Author: wetleatherdog@gmail.com

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CTR

CTR is shorthand for “choose the right.” It’s a Mormon mantra I learned in my kidhood. It has served me well throughout my life to take that extra few seconds to ask myself, “What’s the right thing to do?” Sometimes even a loud, red Tie o’ the Day like this one can have a tough time deciding what’s right and what’s wrong. Decisions can get complicated when real-life context comes into play. However, I do believe sometimes there is an obvious right and an even obvious-er wrong.

For example, at the grocery store, I came across this new twist on an already perfect candy bar, and I was shocked and appalled!* Let me be very clear: POTATO CHIPS IN A REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUP IS WRONG!!!!! It is a sacrilege to both the potato chips and the Reese’s. What kind of person thought this debauched confection was “right” for the world? I am certain that nobody associated with the production, distribution, and marketing of this ill-conceived concoction is going to any Heaven I’ve ever heard of! The very existence of such a candy bar defies common sense. Those consumers who partake of this monstrosity will pay for their sin by experiencing their own digestive Hell as they eat it! Can you hear me?

Now, I know we each probably have at least one weird food combination in our own palate’s repertoire—and that’s ok. As far as I’m concerned those odd taste proclivities are personal and should remain behind closed doors. To publicly sully a candy perfection like a Reese’s is sinful. Likewise, a potato chip is equally sanctified in its own salty perfection, too. Don’t be gluttonous and mess with perfection! Enjoy the perfect state of both goodies, but not in the same treat. Together, they ruin each other. Some goodies work together, but some combinations result in degradation. It is my snacky opinion that this mix is “wrong.” Somebody wasn’t paying attention in Primary when they were supposed to be learning their CTR. Here, “right” matters.

End of rant.🤠

* “shocked and appalled” is meant for Jane E. Holman, who I hope remembers why we laughed at the phrase decades ago.

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Merry Anniversary To Us

A couple of days before Christmas, Suzanne and I celebrated our 8th legal Anniversary. We had reservations for a frou-frou dinner at Log Haven, up Millcreek Canyon. I did something I don’t normally do, in terms of my attire: for Suzanne, I matched my bow tie and face mask. I decided a wedding anniversary was worthy of wearing my out-of-season, Valentine-themed BE MINE Bow Tie o’ the Day and Face Mask o’ the Day—instead of Christmas-themed neckwear. I also wore my “mrs.” Cufflinks o’ the Day.

We dined on swordfish, which was a first for both of us, and we liked it. Suzanne ordered a bottle of wine she said was dreamy, which she let me smell for a ridiculously long time. I can attest that it did, in fact, smell dreamy as could be. As we ate dinner, we engaged in a deep conversation about the nearly 40 years we have known each other. Through the restaurant’s bigly windows, we watched the trees as it began to snow. The snow continued to gradually layer itself outside, and when we drove back down the dark canyon headed for home, everything surrounding us was covered with a thick quilt of sparkling grey-white. It was a slow drive down the canyon, and the scene was storybook magnificent. The cold magic of the landscape cradled us as we drove, and I felt like we had somehow transformed from our mortal world existence into a state of pure metaphor—if only for a small and perfect moment.

Ain’t love amazing?! ❄️💝

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A Grace In Time

Tie o’ the Day is worn by the amazing President Travis. I am proud to call him my nephew for many reasons, one of which is that he regularly wears classy ties. Here, his choice o’ tie echoes the Divine Miss Gracie’s dress. Gracie’s face shows how much she adores her dandy daddy. Her school picture says she’s ready to take on the world of academia. I love these people.

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Paintin’ The Town

We had a theatrical night on the town last week when we went to see HAMILTON again. Before the show, we ate a luscious dinner at Tin Angel, which is located inside the Eccles Theater building. Suzanne ordered wild salmon, while I got the encrusted braised spare ribs. For dessert, we split a slice of spiced pumpkin roll filled with cream cheese frosting, and covered in caramel and chocolate. Yes, it was yummy.

Y’all might recall that we had first seen HAMILTON a couple of years ago, after which I gave my review in a TIE O’ THE DAY post. My review was simply this: “It was a little too sing-y and dance-y for my taste.” The truth is, that’s my review for almost all musicals. I can appreciate a well-done musical production, but I’m partial to plain old words. I prefer the spoken word on the stage. Having said that, I will admit that I enjoyed HAMILTON tremendously this time around. The first time I saw it, my brain was filled with all the excessive hype about it. This time, I knew what I was in for, and I could simply watch without any expectations. HAMILTON was still too sing-y and dance-y for my taste, but as I sat in my seat and let the show just wash over me, I was enthralled. I had a good time.

Because I am who I am, Suzanne must always have her antenna up for any sign of my misbehavior. The Eccles Theater ushers carried little “please, wear your mask” hand-held signs. If an audience member were to remove their mask during the production, an usher was supposed to quietly walk up to the maskless person and politely wave the sign in front of their face. I wanted so badly to take a photo of it happening to someone, but everyone in the audience was good and kept their masks on. As the night wore on, Suzanne could feel me wanting nothing more than to lower my mask, for the sole purpose of having an usher shove a sign in my face, so I could snap a photo of it happening. I don’t know exactly how she knows when I’m plotting to be bad, but she does. She gave me “the look,” and I immediately abandoned any plans I had for misbehaving with my face mask.

Face Mask o’ the Evening was covered in X-mas holiday mutts. I exercised my right to be thematically appropriate by wearing a jumbo Bow Tie o’ the Day depicting The United States Constitution. It was a spot-on choice for HAMILTON. Oddly, not one person who saw me at the theater mentioned my Constitutional bow tie. Nor did they comment on the funeral potatoes 2002 Olympic pin I wore in my lapel. But do you know what part of my attire I was explicitly complimented on by a number of folks throughout the evening? It was my green Nike golf hat! One woman told me the hat looks good on me and that I wear it well—whatever that means. Yeah, my thirty-year-old, seen-in-post-photos-all-the-time hat got more compliments than my incredibly cool and infrequently worn U.S. Constitution Bow Tie got. And while at HAMILTON, to boot! Weird.

I enjoyed HAMILTON more the second time around.
My lapel pin is a 2002 Olympic pin depicting funeral potatoes.
At Tin Angel, I had the braised short ribs in a pastry, atop mashed potatoes.
Suzanne patiently waits for her wine to show up.
My over-tired Saddle Purse fell asleep before the production had even begun.
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A Visit With The Queen

One day last week, we headed to Delta to spend some time with Mom at Millard Care and Rehab. For the trip, I donned my Santa-hatted scottie dog Bow Tie o’ the Day. I wore a Christmas-camo Face Mask o’ the Day as well.

Mom was in fine form while we were there. Her humor remains intact, as does her feistiness. The details of her stories change or sometimes get completely lost, but the gist of each story still comes through loud and clear. She is, as always, a ball of fun and generosity. As Suzanne and Skitter and I were leaving her, we walked Mom to the care center’s beauty shop, so she could get her hair done. I mask-kissed Mom and told her I loved her, and I thanked her for everything. I thanked her for my whole life. As I turned to leave her, she said to me, “You’re a good daughter.” And, like the smart-ass she taught me to be, I said, “Well, I’ve always tried to stay out of jail for you as much as I could.” She winked at me and she thanked me for that. We left each other laugh-crying—just as it should be.

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A Meeting Of Sister Minds

Howdy! TIE O’ THE DAY is back in session. I will catch y’all up on some of the more memorable of my recent time-off escapades, so stay tuned for more holiday-ness over the next few posts.

These photos are from a brief—but rejuvenating—meet-up I was able to have with my oldest sister, BT/Mercedes, and her hubby, Nuk. As far as my attire goes, for the meet-up, I stayed with the colors of the Christmas season by wearing one red Sloggers shoe and one green Sloggers shoe. I also wore my seasonal wintry cape, which was made by Suzanne. In contrast, I added a non-holiday pink cravat as my Tie o’ the Day for the occasion.

As per usual, BT/Mercedes and I met-up at Barnes & Noble in Layton. We didn’t go inside, but Mercedes and I devour books like the world ends at midnight, so Barnes & Noble is a both a convenient and symbolic spot for us to meet. BT brought some goodies she wanted me to take to Mom when I drove down to Delta the next day, and I had a pile of books for BT which I thought she might like to scour through. We made the swap in the parking lot, where we had a gabfest in the cold. BT just had to read the bumper stickers on my car, and then she said to me, “You’re just like me, only funner!” Trust me—she’s a mega-fun person, in her own right. I learned much about how to entertain others from her. She’s the firstborn. I am the baby of the family, who showed up 15 years after her. As I have probably said about us before, we are exactly the same person—except for the million significant ways we differ from each other. I do think we make a swell set of bookends (and bookworms) for the family, though. 📚📖

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I’m A Jolly Slacker This Year

This photo is more documentation of a somewhat rare happening: my neck is not be-decked with any neck-cessories. I figured the bow tied deer on my Face Mask o’ the Day and the bow tie on my t-shirt’s gingerbread dude sufficiently combine into a slew of Bow Ties o’ the Day, in order to make up for my own neck’s nakedness.

I’ve been bad, folks. I’ve been shirking my TIE O’ THE DAY holiday duties this December. First, I didn’t even attempt my annual task of wearing all the holiday neckwear I can possibly fit into the month. And then, I have gone whole days without posting any neckwear at all—whether Christmas or otherwise. I dunno what’s up with me, but I’m not in the Christmas groove. Excuse my French, but I’m just half-assing it this year. I don’t think it has anything to do with my bipolar pendulum. Nor does it seem to have anything to do with my on-going recovery from my pancreas surgery in October. (My Hanky Panky is healing up right on schedule, although my stamina still doesn’t have much stamina to it.) I’m not reeking of bigly bah humbug. There’s nothing overly tragic going on in my life. Still, I just seem to have gradually opted out of the holiday hustling and bustling for some reason. Indeed, I’m quite passionless about the 2021 holiday season. The reason for this is a complete mystery to me. And I’ve decided it’s a mystery I’m not going to worry about right now—except that I feel guilty about possibly letting down my TIE O’ THE DAY readers who tune in here regularly to see the eccentric array of festive Christmas neckwear I so freely and obnoxiously offer up for y’all’s viewing pleasure. Forgive my current slacking, but I think I’m going to roll with this laggard vibe a little longer. In fact, I’m rather enjoying being a temporary slug and accomplishing very little of consequence—for a brief time anyway. That sounds sort of like a vacation, eh? Maybe that’s all I needed.

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Redneck Is Right

Holiday Bow Tie o’ the Day is covered with leg lamps from the movie, A CHRISTMAS STORY. I’m sure there have been times in all our lives when we’ve wished we could receive a fragile, Major Award such as that primo leg lamp.

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Rudolph and I Both Have Red Noses Today

Here I am in my fave pajama bottoms. The Grinch is one of my fave fictional characters. I generally like villains in stories, especially if they eventually see the error of their ways and decide to try to make bigly changes in themselves accordingly. When I read fiction or watch movies, or just watch actual human beings live, I am usually drawn to shady characters with struggling souls. They are the ultimate underdogs. They are usually trouble incarnate. They certainly aren’t boring. I secretly cheer for them to gain enough scraps of insight to make a choice to rise above their tendencies to self-destruct. Whether causing harm to themselves and/or others, the fight is on to define what higher/lower principles the character is—or is not—made of. Causing harm to the self or causing harm to others are, inevitably, the same thing. In the end, everybody involved with a villain is somehow injured. Everybody gets “schooled,” as they say. Which means everybody involved gets taught a valuable lesson. We read it. We see it. We can tell someone else what the lesson of a story is.

But do we apply the lesson to ourselves? Do we benefit from it and learn it deeply, for use in the fight for our own souls? I’d like to say that we do. And sometimes, some people do take a lesson or two to heart. They incorporate lessons learned by others into their lives—moving seemingly easily from one wise choice to the next. But so often, we like to read these stories and watch these stories on tv or at the movies—then leave any valuable lessons the story might conveniently offer us right where we found them.

A lot of us are kinda dopey in this respect: We seem to prefer to make our own mistakes, despite any lessons we’ve watched other people—fictional or human—make and learn from, throughout all of history. In fact, as I’m thinking more about it right at this moment, it seems to me that many of us are downright very, very, very dopey. Hopelessly dopey, in fact. We make the same dang mistakes over and over even in our own lives, as if human beings are brand new here on the planet and haven’t learned a bloody thing. We’re ridiculous. We’re so ridiculous that writers and artists continue to look at us and see even more stories to write about the absurdity of our continual refusal to learn from our mistakes. They write books and tv shows and movies about us making bad choices—stories which we pay bigly bucks to read, watch, and NOT LEARN FROM. This evidence suggests we are addicts, hooked on our mistakes. We must like our mistakes. We’d rather make monstrous mistakes than learn something from anybody who has already learned the lessons from experience. We bark out: “Ain’t nobody gonna show me how to make wise choices!” Perhaps we should reconsider that impulse. Perhaps we should learn. But we’re very dopey dopes—so we won’t.🤠

And that’s the end of my TIE O’ THE DAY’s cynical sermon. 🤓

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Where’s My Skittmeasure?

Skitter sports this holiday Tie o’ the Day, as she acts as my yardstick for checking the snow accumulation outside our abode. We had hours of dizzying, robust snow last night. This afternoon, I plopped down Skitter and her long legs in various areas throughout the yard, as a purely scientific way to gather snow totals from the storm. The snow measurements I gathered with my yardSkitt were all in the range of 7 to 11 inches. Skitter did not willingly walk into the deepest spots, which is why I had to plop her down where I wanted her. The bigly-est snow offended her butt by merely skimming it. She did not even attempt to squat and relieve herself in the bigly-est snow. She managed to find a few areas of nearly bare skiffs of snow for that purpose, so we have only a couple of hard-to-see spots of shallow, yellow snow desecrating our otherwise pristinely glistening white yard. This outdoor whiteness is brighter than Crest 3D Whitestrips.❄️🏔🌨