A day before my surgery was cancelled, a package showed up at my front door. It was from Becca Crane. I have never met her, but she has been a regular TIE O’ THE DAY reader for years. The package she sent was full of movies and treats, meant for me to indulge in during my post-surgery recovery. When the surgery was postponed, I had a dilemma: do I indulge in the movies and treats right now, or do I wait until after my surgery—whenever the heck it is re-scheduled? I decided I would show restraint and wait. Well, it’s been a few weeks now since the care package showed up, and today I gave in to my curious sweet tooth. Cork Bow Tie o’ the Day and I scrounged through the treats contained in the package and found this BOX OF BOOGERS among the offerings. For whatever reason, boogers sounded like just the thing for my breakfast this morning. I don’t know exactly what that says about me, but it does say that my never-met pal, Becca, knows me very well.🤡
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I just returned home from 6 hours of escorting Rowan from his apartment to his dentist, and back to his apartment again. He had his teeth cleaned and 2 cavities filled. It was a long day. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing more mind-numbing than a trip to the dentist is somebody else’s trip to the dentist. I am nearly comatose. But I did want to check in today and say “howdy” to y’all. 😩
Bow Ties o’ the Day send a hearty MERRY BIRTHDAY! to the first-born of the Ron and Helen Wright clan: my sister, Betty. She is more commonly known to her friends and family as BT or Bett. I call her Mercedes. She is not just my blood sibling. We are also linked by a fascination with words and what words can accomplish. We understand their power to elucidate complexities and to inspire change. We share the belief that words are real tools that can be wielded as compassionate embraces or as destructive weaponry. We both read like there’s no tomorrow. We both write. We take notes on everything we see, read, or do. We study as if there’s going to be a quiz. And there is, in fact, a quiz. It’s called life, and it happens every day we’re alive. The words we read and write and say—and the actions the words make happen—will determine if we pass. Mercedes is at the top of her class, as per usual. She aces the bigly test every day.
BTW For those of you who don’t know, Mercedes is the bride in the photo. I’m the wee beast. My Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless (SWWTRN) completes our sisters trio.
Nope. Mom never goes anywhere without a housecoat. She still has one hanging here in our front closet, as is probably the case at BT/Mercedes’ and Ron’s homes, too. Her nightgown and housecoat will be here—hanging right where they’ve hung for the last decade—for Mom in case she’s ever able to visit for a sleepover again. She is always welcome here, even though Millard Care and Rehab is the place she needs to be.
In Mom’s nearly 91 years, she has been a part of a slew of amazing stories, which she has never tired of telling us kids about. I’ve been thinking I should share some of the more obscure knee-slappers with you. I was going to start with the tale of what happened one night with Mom, her sister, Rosalie, and Rosalie’s husband, Boyd. But, upon further thought, I’m probably not allowed to tell that one, no matter how amusing it was. So then I decided to tell you the one about the camper Dad built and about the many members of the Delta 2nd Ward who borrowed it. But I’m forbidden from telling you that story, too. So then I decided to tell you the story of how Mom bought a dark, long-haired wig in Provo, just to freak out Dad. But, again, I can’t tell that tale to y’all either, now that I think of it. Nor can I tell you the story of Mom and Dad and the bee yard with an electric fence. That story is not for those readers who are faint of heart or could expire due to excessive laughter—because TIE O’ THE DAY doesn’t carry life insurance for its readers.
I will try to think of some of Mom’s tamer true tales.
Last September, when Mom turned 90, Millard Care and Rehab was on pandemic lockdown, so we celebrated from outside her window. It was not the grand party she deserved, but I think she got the idea that we adore her and are grateful to call her ours. She also got a bazillion birthday cards from family, friends, and a few TIE O’ THE DAY readers she has never met. I thank y’all for that. Well, it’s that time o’ year again—and it’s that pandemic again. The latest news I’ve heard is that the care center is off-limits to visitors, as of a few days ago, because a resident has tested positive for COVID-19. I’m hoping that somehow we’ll be able to see and hug Mom—not just through a window—for her 91st birthday, on September 26. But just in case we’re not allowed in, I’m putting her birthday card and present in the mail. Likewise, if you’d like to send Mom a birthday greeting this week, you know she’d love it. Here’s her address: Helen A. Wright, Millard Care and Rehab, Room #104, Delta, UT 84624
Mr. Pringles gives us our Bow Tie o’ the Day this afternoon. It’s been chilly and windy for most of today, which signals how close we’re getting to official Fall. Fall weather is probably the weather I find most comfortable to be in. Give me shirt-sleeve weather any time. I wish it would last longer than it does. But for now, I’ll just put on my bigly girl socks and do whatever’s gotta be done, including watch the the leaves in the hills outside our tall windows do their turning. What a great life! I give thanks.
Skitter’s fruity Tie o’ the Day gives her a delicious look. Forgive me for thinking everyone must see Skitter regularly. Thank you for indulging me when I ask her to star on TIE O’ THE DAY. She constantly surprises me with her ladylike poses. She is blatantly demure and proper. I have no idea where she learned this civilized behavior. I do know she didn’t learn any of it from me.📸👔
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I worry about a long list of things, most of which I have no control over. Still, I worry. But one thing I don’t worry about right now is messing up my hairs when I’m upside down. There’s not a hair out of place with this cut. About my hairs, I’ve got no worries. I feel so much more relaxed.✂️
[This is a re-post from 2018. I miss Dad. I miss kissing the top of his head.]
Bow Tie o’ the Day displays a host of animal tracks. And Shirt o’ the Day shows my own style o’ track-makers. We’re both looking ahead to the upcoming Fall critter seasons.
I hail from a hunting-obsessed home. In our house, the first day of the deer hunt was a bigger deal than Christmas morning, and I am not exaggerating. It’s an undisputed fact.
I knew how to reload perfectly weighted bullets at my dad’s bullet press before I had even been baptized. I fished. I killed pheasants, rabbits, and allegedly a deer. But I haven’t been a hunter since I was 16. I have nothing against ethical hunting. It just isn’t in me to do it. The thrill is gone, as they say.
But every Fall brings back amazing memories of trailing behind Dad– mighty hunter extraordinaire– on opening day of the deer hunt. When I see hunters getting themselves ready for their various Fall hunts, I can’t help but think about my Dad’s knowledge of– and enthusiasm for– hunting. I see folks buying orange and/or camo clothing this time of year. I know they’re re-loading bullets or buying ammo. They are target shooting to sight-in their scopes. In fact, I can already hear the “practice” gunshots in the hills above our house. Of course, I can’t see or hear all the hunting preparations going on around me, but it’s enough to just know it’s going on. Just knowing the hunts are happening makes me feel Dad’s presence near me.
When I was a kid, a friend once asked me if Dad was as mean as he looked. I started laughing, and then I started snort-laughing. Dad was a big guy. He had a huge presence. But he was a soft-hearted jokester. And despite his stature, he was a gentle man. And a gentleman.
As an adult, I finally figured out why someone could think Dad was mean. I was once accused of looking mean myself, so I pondered the topic. I stared in the mirror and tried on some different faces until I got back to my regular face, and there it was. I could finally see it. In fact, it was in every face I pulled, to some extent. But it was most prominent in my regular face. My face was Dad’s face, and I saw that we have the same serious-looking forehead lines and the same look-right-through-you eyes. Both characteristics are there in almost every face I can muster. (They are present even in my baby photos. And in his as well.) I see the clenched, focused lines even in my silly faces. When I surveyed a bunch of photos of Dad, even when he smiled, the forehead lines and knowing eyes were there. Those serious, focused forehead lines, together with our x-ray eyes, can be mistaken for meanness at times, I suppose. I don’t see “mean” in our faces. I see “serious” and “focus” and “I know who you are” and some “don’t mess with the people I love” in our faces.
Dad and I probably missed our career callings. If we look so intimidating, we probably should have been bouncers in a bar. Or Beyonce’s bodyguards. Or UFC fighters. Or Mafia enforcers. 🍺 🥊 🔫 We coulda been somebody!
The Tie Room needs constant up-keep because it has a bigly population. Around 800 pieces of the bow tie population resides quite happily in the old, tall card catalog, which I’ve shown y’all before. (It’s probably my fave piece of furniture, ever). Since I currently have over 2,500 bow ties, I would need at least 2 more old card catalogs just like it to house the rest of the critters in my collection, which is not practical for the size of the room. There’d be no room for me. Or for Skitter even.
Nevertheless, I am always on the hunt for interesting ways to house and/or display my little bow tie pals. And today I found—Voila! I found this fluorescent green and black tackle box to assist me in my current Tie Room organizing projects. It has the perfect amount of space to hold all of my small, diamond-point Bow Ties o’ the Day, plus room for me to collect more. As you can see here, it currently houses 27 diamond-point residents, with plenty of room for more in its main compartment. The tackle box is housing for my critters, and it helps me keep track of this style of bow. I haven’t fished in years, but I now have a reason to regularly visit the tackle boxes at Cabela’s.
