Author: wetleatherdog@gmail.com

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Unless We’re Not

Tie o’ the Day and I are closely checkin’ the weather for the days of our upcoming vacation. We are scheduled to leave for Dauphin Island, AL– a few miles off the coast of Alabama– on Thursday morning. It seems that a little tropical storm named Gordon is trying to become a hurricane in that coastal region right now.

Are we still going to our little beach? Heck, yes. Remember, we’ve survived Delta wind for decades– real wind. And who doesn’t want to experience a tropical storm and/or hurricane getaway? Not everybody gets a chance to vacation in a hurricane. Besides, Gordon’s supposed to be only a Category 1 hurricane. And it might not even turn into one at all. It might miss our little island completely. Also, whatever it ends up being is supposed to happen before Thursday. But– you know the weather.

When we planned our getaway months ago, we checked into when hurricane season is generally over. It was supposed to over by now. Oh, well. The manager of the condo we’ve rented touched bases with us yesterday and said that we shouldn’t worry about changing our plans. And she lives there, so she should know. Sounds like when these teeny-powerful storms happen, they are more of an annoyance than actually dangerous.

We will likely get rain in the storm’s aftermath. We’ve packed an umbrella. Even though we may not get as much beach time as we anticipated, that’s ok. There are other things to do and places to see that tourists don’t necessarily think to do/see if they spend all their time at the beach. Suzanne and I enjoy wherever we are together.

For me and Suzanne, no hurricane is gonna detour our vacay parade. We’re not changing our plans, even though we have trip insurance and easily could. I’ve been chained to the house, recovering for most of the last 2 months, and I need to go somewhere. I need some bigly fun. Bigly, but relaxing. Even experiencing a hurricane sounds better to me than sitting around the house one minute longer. I guess I can wait two days– since I have to. We’re going!

I can already imagine the bow tie/tie posts that are gonna come out of this adventure o’ weather. And I even have a dashing new swimming suit that will amuse you. 🌊 ✈️

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And Not A Tie In Sight

Sometimes you witness something so wrong that it reminds you how important your loved ones are. We were watching a re-run of LIVE PD last night when we saw this woman in her I-meant-to-wear-this shirt. Did she think her necklace would hide her more-than-cleavage? She could have saved our eyes from seeing this if she had been wearing a wide tie from the 70’s, or even a cravat. After witnessing this tackiness, I immediately went up to The Tie Room and hugged each of my Ties/Bow Ties o’ All the Days. It took hours for me to acknowledge each of them personally, but I love them bigly. I thanked each of them for their hard work and patience. My ties would NEVER allow me to venture into the world with my breasticles hangin’ out for all the cops and television viewers to see. There is a limit to flashy fashion choices. Even for me. 🙀

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Jolly Again

I wore this shirt sarcastically a few days ago, when I wasn’t grumpy. Today, I was grumpy, so I wore it sorta seriously. Note that I typed WAS grumpy. I allowed the computer/website/ Facebook issues to let me commit small tirades for a day. (I’m letting the SWWTRN silent text alert just be what it is.) Enough is enough. The glitches have now been figured out. Not fixed yet, but figured out.

Before I explain what we found out about our technology  problem, I have to say this about being grumpy: It’s almost impossible to be grumpy when you’re concentrating on others– especially when you’re helping others. Tie o’ the Day reminds me that I think grumpiness results when we think we– and the difficulties we’re going through– are the center of all universes. Believe me, it is not all about you. Or me. It’s good to vent, but it’s not good to wallow. Wallowing creates stagnation, and stagnation creates rot. When you’re ticked off or frustrated, feel your feelings for a while, then go assist somebody with something they need. You’ll cheer up. And you’ll be a better person.

Regarding the photo non-upload issue, Suzanne worked mightily. Suzanne worked for hours. Suzanne fixed many things. Suzanne ran virus protection. Suzanne got rid of a billion spam-y emails I never opened. Suzanne won.

What Suzanne did not do is fix the issue I was having. But she couldn’t, because the issue was our WiFi. At some point during Suzanne’s troubleshooting of the problem, I– and my explosions of grump– decided it would be a good idea to get out of the house. Nothing else was fixing the problem, I decided to indulge my new theory that the problem might have something to do with our prehistoric WiFi. I wish we’d thought of it sooner.

Anyhoo… I tested the theory by putting on my Grumpy shirt and heading down the road to Starbucks, where I could try to accomplish my www goals on their WiFi. Voila! Everything worked niftily. We’ll be upgrading our internet service ASAP. Simple as that. (Famous last words, eh?)

I felt like I should at least buy a cup o’ coffee at Starbucks, since I was using their WiFi. It just seemed polite. But I don’t drink coffee. And when I drove back home, I realized I would have to change clothes because I reeked of coffee, and the smell would stick to me the entire day. I was okay in Starbucks, but…   It’s not because I hate the smell of coffee. Actually, the smell of coffee reminds me of Dad. But sometimes I just can’t handle thinking of that sweet man for longer than a few minutes. 🤗 💜

 

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And Pretend This Is A Title

 

There’s nothing to look at here.

Tie o’ the Day and I have discovered we’re magic. We can post a picture on our website, and it will post everywhere in the universe– except on the website and Facebook. I can no longer put photos into my site’s media library. Suzanne and I spent a big hunk o’ yesterday troubleshooting my technology speed bumps– which means Suzanne tried to find the problem and fix it, while I wept, wailed, railed, and carried around a few balloons for the pity party I was having.

[I cannot sufficiently convey to you how big a deal TIE O’ THE DAY is to me. It’s medicine to my far-too-dark brain. The idea of creating it gets me and my bipolar brain out of bed some days. It’s an hour of holiday from the routine– twice a day. I need this website kink remedied ASAP.]

I am a patient person–except when it comes to stuff that “breaks” when nobody did anything to it. I changed no settings on the website. The site was not hacked. I didn’t touch any buttons that I don’t normally touch. And Suzanne will tell you that I am such a technotard that I make sure I touch as few buttons as I absolutely have to. I did nothing different from usual, and now my beloved www.tie-o-the-day.com will not let me upload photos, for some still undiagnosed reason.

This website snafu comes on the heels of last week’s, Silent Text Alert Issue. I kept not-hearing text alerts from my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless. I thought my hearing aid might have been on the fritz, but I could hear every noise in the house. Heck, I could hear Skitter’s back tooth decaying.

Seriously, I can hear every rinky-dink alert and sound on my phone– except text alerts from my SWWTRN. I can hear the flippin’ iPhone breathe! But I can’t hear the text alert I assigned to my SWWTRN. And believe me, I chose her personal alert to be overly loud and annoyingly obnoxious, so I’ll never miss a single one of her texts. I have tried to fix it, but according to the phone itself, everything is working a-ok. And get this– I chose the same alert sound to announce her phone calls, and I hear it loud and oh-so clear when she calls. (Yes, I’ve tried other sounds. No text alert sound attached to her contact can be heard.)

When I couldn’t fix my text alert issue, I threw my signature ticked-off party, my woe-is-me party. Sometimes I even throw my I’m-stoopid-cuz-I-can’t-figure-this-out party. Believe me, I can throw ill-tempered parties. And frankly, my parties generally happen because of technology– whether I understand the technology or not. Inevitably, Suzanne rides in on the Horse o’ Level-headedness and conquers The Beast o’ Techno Glitches. Suzanne always wins.

But she hasn’t finished off these two problems yet, as of this morning. Since neither the website nor the phone text malfunctions are completely solved, guess what Suzanne will be doing for Labor Day? And you know dang well I’ll be partying. I’ll be enjoying my pity party like it’s 1999. Along with the balloons, I’ll bring some cheese to go along with the barrels o’ whine I bring to my party. Feel free to stop by for the shindig.

 

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The Flannel Is Coming! The Flannel Is Coming!

So I’m resting up in the living room, reclining and snoozing and basically doing absolutely nothing except minding my p’s and q’s. Skitter and cockatoo Tie o’ the Day are doing the same bunch of nothin’ with me. You see, Suzanne and I go on vacation in less than a week, and I am paranoid that if I do anything interesting, I’ll tweak my insides somehow and the doctor will tell me I can’t fly anywhere yet. Anyhoo… We’re being lazy, and TOOT, TOOT, TOOT! It’s a text from Suzanne, who needed to get away from me and my lackadaisical self for a while. Of course, I know where she went to escape me. Yup, back to JOANN’S for more of FLANNELRAMA!

The text she just sent me said, “I’m going crazy with fabric. Don’t be mad.😱” Yes, with that exact emoji.

Here’s what I should text back to her: “Now let me get this straight, Suzanne. Do you know who I am? I own at least 1000 ties and bow ties. And you think I might be upset if you buy yards and scads of flannel? Did someone hit you in the head with one of those bolts of fabric? I wouldn’t be mad at you even if you bought out the whole store.”

But I’m not texting her a text with that many words. If she had to read something even that long, it would cut into her JOANN’s time– and into her Helen-free time. I’m texting simply, “I’m not mad.💝” I know from past experience that her trips to JOANN’s take 2 or 3 hours. I kid you not. And if I text her the longer response from above, it will add another half-hour to her shopping excursion– because it will cause her to lose her place in the plethora of sewing ideas listed in her head. She’ll waste time trying to decide if my text was passive-aggresive or sarcastic, or both. Hint: My texts are always sarcastic. Every breath I take is sarcastic.

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Magnets, Hair Clips, And Glue

Bow Tie o’ the Day is not only made of wood, and imprinted with tiny bow ties, it actually attaches to the shirt with a magnet. I simply pull its two magnets apart, put Bow Tie itself where I want it to be, then put the second magnet right behind it inside the shirt. This is the only bow tie I have that uses this method of attachment. Inventive. Kinda cool.

Bow Tie and I found ourself in the Aisle o’ Hairs Accessories. In case I haven’t griped about it enough, let me gripe in all-caps. I CAN’T STAND GROWING OUT MY HAIR! AND I BLAME Y’ALL! There. I’ve vented. I’m okay now.

Growing out my hairs wouldn’t be as bad if I hadn’t started doing it while I had an asymmetrical cut. Left side, long. Right side, shaved. This makes it constantly look more awkward than the usual I’m-growing-out-my-hairs awkward stages. Please don’t suggest possible hairstyles. I do not “do” my hairs. I just won’t. If I can’t just wash and wear it, I put a hat on it. Luckily, I like hats. And I like doo rags. Now I’m trying out hair clips.

And that’s how we ended up in the Aisle o’ Hairs Accessories. Oh, so many clippy choices for keeping my hairs out of my eyes! The bright, amusing-looking clips all seem to be for little girls, but they aren’t long enough to do the job well. Do grown women not like to have happy hair clips? Women’s clips are sorta la-dee-da. I split the difference: I got the least standy-outy women’s clips I could find AND I got some colorful little girl clips. Between the two sizes, I hope I can work something out. In fact, upon showing Suzanne my new hairs treasures, I ordered her to go immediately to her craft room to find her glue gun. I know she can glue some clips together into wearable clip sculptures worthy of clash fashion and bow ties. 👒

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I Get Away With So Much Tomfoolery

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I picked up Suzanne from work and headed off to the park for the duration of her lunch break. She ate her usual mid-day meal: string cheese and yogurt. I occasionally eat a banana at the park, but most of the time I just chug my Diet Coke. Today, I chugged it while wearing Skitter’s new sombrero.

When Skitter gets new hats, of course I have to test drive them. I try out all her new hats before she wears them. I mean– there could be some obscure hat-safety issue: some defect o’ the hat, which would make it unsafe for my beloved pup to wear it on her head. So you see, I bravely face danger by test-wearing Skitter’s stuff– to ensure her dapper fashion safety. That’s my excuse for wearing Skitter’s hats, and I’m sticking to it.

Suzanne is a good sport when it comes to my clash fashion choices (including dog hats) and my overall eccentric behavior. She puts up with my antics, unconditionally. At home or in public, she is neither fazed nor embarrassed by my fashion sensibilities and/or my hijinks. She has never once tried to tame my imagination. She takes it in stride. She never rolls her eyes at what I wear or what I say. Heck, that’s amazing because even I roll my eyes at my shenanigans sometimes. Suzanne is so even-keeled about my behavior that I sometimes wonder if she even notices me at all. All I know is that she has never once forbidden me from doing my thing– so I keep on truckin’.

Only one time have I ever forbidden Suzanne from wearing something. She bought a new dress off the Dillard’s clearance rack. It looked fine on the hanger, but it did not work on an actual woman. It wasn’t just Suzanne who couldn’t pull it off. After seeing it on her, I realized it would have been wrong on any woman. Anyhoo… There she was in her new dress. She was primped and dressed and ready to leave for work when I saw her in it, and I said, “You are not leaving the house in that dress! It looks frumpy. It makes you look like a school teacher!” Of course, Suzanne was a school teacher at the time. We all appreciate our teachers, but you know the exact image of a frumpy school teacher I’m talkin’ about. That look ain’t gonna happen for Suzanne on my watch.

When I dropped off the aforementioned maladjusted dress at Deseret Industries, I actually felt like I should apologize for donating it. 👗

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Been There, Done That, Seen That

I have seen the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean, from a castle turret on a hill on the west coast of Ireland. I have driven down Main Street in Delta, UT with a wind-blown tumbleweed the size of a Christmas tree stuck in the front grill of my car. I have mooned. I have streaked. I have sat naked in a lawn chair at a nude beach in Rehoboth, Delaware. I have canoed on the Potomac River while eating sushi.

In honor of the craziness of the Delta Fourth of July chairs-on-main-street-for-days custom, I have set up lawn chairs– and tied them together– on the side of the road in front of the Delta house, to create a fake 4th of July parade route, complete with horse poop and saltwater taffy scattered in the road. And Mom and I have sat in those lawn chairs, waiting for the parade that never came– just so people could see us and wonder. (And a parade did come by once. Story to be told later.)

I have drunk shots of pepper vodka on a picnic blanket, at an Allison Krauss concert, on the grass in front of the Washington Monument. I have driven in the West Desert for hours at night, with my lights off, while listening to music no one’s ever heard of. I have been trapped in a stuck elevator. I have played arcade games along the Jersey Shore. I have been to Six Flags amusement parks in three different states. I have returned a lost wallet.

I have taught every type of writing class they offer at The University of Utah and at Salt Lake Community College. I have led book groups for inmates at the Utah State Prison. I have taught writing in a middle school in inner-city Baltimore. I have twice run the Georgetown 10K in D.C. while drunk. I have seen Dad catch fish bare-handed. I have spent 24 hours in Boston, and I saw everything there was to see. I have seen over 100 concerts in my life. I have ice skated all the way across the Reservoir and back. I have had 2/3 of my pancreas hacked away. I have seen a jackalope and a chupacabra in the same night.

But the one thing I have not experienced until now is an event called FLANNELRAMA at JOANN’s.

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I have now seen and done everything. 😜

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Walker?! I Hardly Knew ‘Er!

Bow Tie o’ the Day traipsed all over Centerville on a pleasant walk with us. Okay, we didn’t walk all over Centerville. We actually walked about 16 blocks. Well… it was 8 blocks each way, but 16 blocks sounds like I went infinitely far. It was the longest walk I’ve done since late June, so I’ll pat myself on the back once or twice for doing it even though I can throw a baseball farther than I can walk right now.

We got a couple of blocks from home, then Suzanne said, “Whenever you need to turn back, just tell me.” After that, at the end of each block, she said the same thing. I kept girding up my tweaking insides and saying we should go one more block, every block. After the eighth block, I could feel I had walked too far. And I knew I had to walk the same distance back! I let my pride keep me pretending I was fine. But I really felt like the Primary song in which the “Pioneer children sang as they walked, and walked, and walked, and walked.” And even a few more “and walked”‘s.

Finally, I had to sit on a curb and rest a minute. But was I going to say I was out of oomph and in pain, and tell Suzanne to go get the car while I wait right here? Hell, no! I found the curb spot where I took this photo, and I sat down and said, “Oh, let’s stop here a minute. This crosswalk will make a fine TIE O’ THE DAY picture.” I didn’t mention my physical predicament to Suzanne at all. I just sat on the curb, got my iPhone out and shot a bunch of selfies, then looked through them and said, “Those didn’t quite work the way I wanted them to, so I better shoot a few more.” And then I did that again and again, until I felt rested enough to walk home. It worked. Suzanne didn’t catch on to my deceitful trick. I got to say I went on a longish (for me) walk, and Suzanne’s happy and proud of me because she thinks I’m getting my stamina back.

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Having A Thought, I Am Not

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I can’t think of anything to write about this morning. We haven’t done anything yet, and we have no plans to do anything later. Our schedule is wide open. There are no errands needing to be done. The house is clean. Laundry’s done. (That laundry thing was a lie, but we don’t want to do it.) And for some reason, we aren’t even having opinions about anything. And there are no stories in our heads. What do we say here? How do we write this post, with nary a topic to write about?

I have no doubt you’re thinking we should just skip a post or two and give y’all a break. Nope. It ain’t our style. You know the “not post” thing is not gonna happen. Right now, in fact, as I’m typing away, I’m thinking maybe I should just see how long a “there’s-nothing-here” post I can write. I’m a writer, so I should be able to bs about nothing whatsoever for a while. I can treat it like a writing exercise– you know. Just treat it like a challenge for my abilities: jabber about nothing. And that would be all well and good, except that no matter how much “nothing” anyone writes about, the sentences are always about something. I mean– sentences have nouns and verbs and all types of other words, and you can’t have a noun without the rest of the sentence saying something about it. It’s the same with a sentence’s verbs and its other words. Every word is about something. So nobody can ever write about nothing, really. In fact, you’ve just read over 250 words that are pretty much about nothing– except they are also about me trying to write bs. I hope you don’t feel like reading this was a waste your time. There. You’ve now read 320 words. About nothing and something at the same time.