This would be a knee-slappin’ story, but I can’t tell it right now. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell it on TIE O’ THE DAY. But if I could, you’d guffaw so hard you’d snort your drink right out your nose and onto whatever techno gadget you’re reading this post on. So I’m sorry to tease y’all, but you’ll just have to wonder about what I did. Let it suffice to say that my Tie o’ the Day is telling you I am currently residing in the proverbial doghouse. I did a thing. And it didn’t work out as planned. I miscalculated. It was a hilarious thing, but it turned into a mess. I’m laughing about it already, but I’m trying to play it down a bit around Suzanne. She’s not seeing the humor yet. I know she and I will laugh about it together someday. And I hope y’all will laugh about it too. But today is not that day. If I had a tail, it would be contritely between my legs. I will content myself with the non-comforts of the doghouse this weekend, I’m sure.
TIE O’ THE DAY’s 2012 Presidential contender Chia heads are showing their first sprouts of “hair” growth. They are thriving under the watchful eye of Suzanne—the official gardener of the household. Her 30 years as a member of the infamous Champagne Garden Club have prepared her for this hairy Chia moment in history. Who will sprout the most magnificent hair? Mitt seems to be in the lead right now. But there’s plenty o’ time left in the race.
On a daily basis, there are lots of things being said and done out in the world which Skitter and I find disappointing, chaotic, and generally not nice. We have chosen to live by a few truths that assist us in making our way through life relatively unscathed by the malarkey being so proudly spat by destructive hooligans we occasionally encounter in our realm. Chief among our values is KINDNESS. And one of the bigly truths of how kindness works is that the only way to live kindness is to share it. It is impossible to be a kind soul if you’re only kind to yourself. It is also impossible to be a kind soul if you don’t put kindness into action. Feeling kind, or thinking kind thoughts, is completely ineffective. You must share kindness, in order to keep yourself kind.
Anyhoo… On today’s Pandemic Hairs Thursday, I decided to reinforce to Skitter the value of KINDNESS. I asked her if she would share one of her new Ties o’ the Day with me. She was glad to share it. And I asked her if she wanted me to share some of my Pandemic Hairs o’ the Day with her. I mean—I have an excess of hairs I’m not using right now. She relished the idea of temporarily having long hair. Despite how miserable she looks in these photos, she was giddy. Skitter and I just sat around in the loveseat for part of the afternoon, sharing her ties and my hairs with each other. We both agreed that even simple, near-effortless acts of kind can enrich us beyond measure. To perform acts of kindness is a revolutionary idea.
Be kind, y’all. Commit to kindness. Kindness goes with whatever you’re wearing.
Even glasses wood Bow Tie o’ the Day can see that if the pandemic keeps me from getting Miss Tiffany to cut my hairs soon, I am well on my way to becoming Cousin It for Halloween.
When I talk to Mom on the phone, she always wants to know what Skitter is up to. I tell Mom Skitter is up to the same things she always is: She sleeps, potties, eats, runs around like crazy, naps, barks at the world, eats, potties, and sleeps again. She naps in as many different places as she she can, all day long. That’s when Mom tells me her daily routine at MCR is the very same as Skitter’s. That’s when I tell Mom that’s exactly why she and The Skit love and miss each other. You can surely tell Mom and Skitter apart in these photos. Mom is the one with the cup o’ Pepsi, and Skitter is the one wearing her Tie o’ the Day.
One of the bigly things Mom misses while she’s on lock-down inside Millard Care and Rehab is their regular field trips into the community. Here she is last year, on a field trip to Nephi for lunch at Lisa’s Country Kitchen. Mom is wearing her James Dean shades, as she does 24/7. Her neck bling is holding her cell phone. She’s got her corsage on for no reason other than she’s Mom, and that’s how she rolls. But the true Helen Sr. style shines out in her Slippers o’ the Day. Mom knows that your personal fashion should scream out to everyone exactly who you are.
Some days we just need a glimpse of yesteryear—with Mom on my porch, holding her glass of Pepsi. Note the can of oven cleaner next to Mom. She had been spraying ants on the sidewalk with Raid on her way over to my house, but used up all the ant spray. She went back in her house and retrieved a can of oven cleaner, which she sprayed into ant-filled sidewalk cracks from her place to mine. She told me the oven cleaner spray killed ants just as well as ant spray. Batman Bow Tie o’ the Day did not argue with Mom about her scientific discovery.
I rarely post something which is not my creation or story, but this is a timeless fashion truth I ran across in my old files. TIE O’ THE DAY agrees with this visual aid. Wear what makes you happy, not just trendy things fashion scientists tell you that you must. Except for masks. Wear masks right now, no matter how silly you think a mask makes you look. You and those around you will certainly look alive if y’all wear masks.
Wearing my new flat-bill, hip-hop hat is almost the same as wearing a bow in my hair. It is our Bow Tie o’ the Day.
The left side of my face is settling down. The gift of swelling the stinging wasps gave me is almost gone. My face is just about back to my usual old lady puffiness. Some of the sting sites are highly visible to the naked photo eye, but not all of them. Trust me—I know where all the stingers made contact because those sites still itch. And that leads me to Benadryl. I am not fond of Benadryl. It makes me drowsy. It doesn’t make me tired enough to be able to nap, which would be fine with me. It just makes me too drowsy to read, or write, or drive, or follow the plot of whatever show I’m watching on TV. I’m trying to make today a Benadryl-free day. Here’s hoping the itchiness does not overcome me. I need to get some work done.
I am a bit sad to see the swelling on my face go down. I have had such fun with it. In fact, for a couple of days I felt like my dad. You know how “Dad humor” is. We’ve all experienced the same “Dad humor” from our fathers. We’ve watched our fathers beat a joke to death. It happens like this: 1. Dad says a clever, jokey thing. 2. Dad tries to fit the clever, jokey comment into every conversation with every person he runs into that day—or for a few days. 3. Dad tells every person to whom he tells the jokey thing, about everybody else he said it to, and he describes what their reactions were. 4. The clever, jokey comment dies away when “Dad” thinks of a new clever, jokey comment. And the cycle repeats.
So how does this relate to my feeling like Dad because I’ve had a swollen left eye and right ear? The day after I was attacked by the wasps, I had to go to Dick’s Market to do some grocery shopping and pick up some prescriptions. The folks who work at Dick’s know me. The minute I walked in, a cashier nearly ran me down asking what happened to my face. I automatically said, “I got on Suzanne’s nerves.” I passed three more store employees on my way to the pharmacy, and I said similar clever, jokey comments to each one when they asked me what happened. Their reactions were the same: Silence. Laughter. Then I move on. It was intoxicating. I realized that I was feeling Dad-mode. At the pharmacy, the pharmacists and techs all had to see the swelling for themselves. “I guess I finally irritated Suzanne beyond all reason,” I answered when they queried me about what happened. I heard the silence, then the chuckles, then a chorus of, “Yeah, right!” They know Suzanne too.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I thought we should keep you up-to-date about my wasp-stung left eye and right ear. Today, I’m pleased to report that I can now open my left eye a bit, although the entire left side of my face appears to be swollen. Look closely at my ears, and I think it’s fairly obvious my much-stung right ear is plenty swollen, compared to my unstung left ear—to the point that it doesn’t even appear to belong on the same head as my left ear. My face is still itchy and twitchy and mildly uncomfortable enough that I haven’t ventured back out to my truck—the scene of The Battle o’ Little Big Wasp—to go for a spin. That’s my goal for tomorrow. Today, Benadryl is my best friend.
