Well, I have an in-office pain specialist appointment in SLC in a few days, but before I’m allowed to actually enter the office, I am required to take a COVID-19 test. So this morning, I threw on a mustache wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, and I managed to wrangle Skitter into the car with me for a drive to the Farmington Station U of U Hospital, where they have drive-thru COVID-19 testing. Skitter and I sang Lumineers songs together in the car while waiting in line, and she was very brave. She even held my hand through the entire drive-thru testing process.
The testing itself was a shock to my system—only because I didn’t know it was going to be done quite that far up my nose. Ever had a really long toothpick shoved all the way up your nose for exactly 5 seconds? The stick may have been only about the circumference of a toothpick, but when it’s poked up your nose for 5 seconds it feels like an angry ponderosa pine.
I get the results in 24-48 hours. Kudos to the U of U Hospital folks performing the tests. The process was streamlined and professional. The testers also liked my mask.
Not even a pandemic can keep me and Bow Tie o’ the Day from extending our sincere gratitude to the women and men who served ‘Merica with honor and principle, for little ol’ me and little ol’ you. TIE O’ THE DAY gives thanks.
Just sittin’ around waiting for the three-day weekend to begin. Got a pocket square which matches Bow Tie o’ the Day, as well as a tank top pocket to hold it.
We don’t have any specific plans set for the weekend yet, but you know I’ll come up with something post-worthy. What I really want to do this weekend is drive to Delta and kidnap Mom from the care center for a couple of hours, and take her up to visit Dad’s grave—where she can pretend to be mad at him, as she demands him to “get the Hellen up from under that awesome headstone.” But breaking Mom out of lockdown isn’t in the cards this year.
I am not a gal who enjoys fighting my way through mobs of folks, even when we aren’t in the midst of a pandemic, so I pay my respects at cemeteries on any day that’s not Memorial Day. It’s too people-y on that day. I have, however, always been a Memorial Day lookie-loo who drives by cemeteries to see the graves all gussied-up, but from a bigly distance. I suppose you could say that doing cemetery drive-by’s is my own tradition of Memorial Day social distancing.
Lavender Bow Tie o’ the Day knows a swell hat can win you lots of admirers. The dapper-er the hat, the groovier. Aside from baseball caps and cowboy hats, we are not a varied hat-wearing culture. In fact, ‘Mericans are largely a hatless people. I vote for immediate change. Go buy yourself an audacious hat. Wear it everywhere you go. Wear it with your mask. Flaunt its pizazz. Let it be your crown.
Something very wrong is happening here. It’s Spring, and it’s cold outside, which makes a long-sleeved shirt and a flannel Tie o’ the Day must-wear items. We are three weeks into May, and even in Utah, I should not have to get dressed as if it’s February. I take personal offense at the way the weather toys with me annually at this time o’ the year. Alas and forsooth! I shall wrap my flannel tie around me for warmth and try to forget how picked on by the cosmos I truly am. 🌬 ❄️ 😁
BTW This is a prime photo of my Spock ear, which has always been my sexiest feature.
Once upon a time, I forgot my neckwear one day. It made me dizzy to have a naked neck, but I was already on the road to Delta in my jalopy truck. Turn back? Nope. I had things to do. I pulled over to the side of the road on I-80 near Saltair to quickly draw Bow Tie o’ the Day on my neck. Have pen, will draw bow tie!
Teensy Bow Tie o’ the Day comes to us in a photo from a LAGOON visit a couple of years ago. I like this photo because it not only has a bigly tooth in it, but it illustrates how laughable I can sometimes look when I try to be tough. Me trying to intimidate with my ripped self can come off looking more like me trying to resemble a cartoon character. I’m an uber-resilient broad—as strong as they come. But being all in-your-face pugilistic does not match my deep, bipolar, American soul. Oh, I have to admit I can rustle up some truly piercing faces when it’s absolutely necessary. If you’re a teacher or a parent or a spouse, if you have any chance of surviving your duties, you MUST have a quiver full of faces which will wordlessly get your point across to whoever it is you’re trying to reach.
You know that thing about how some people have eyes in the back of their heads, cuz they somehow see everything that goes on anywhere in their vicinity? The back of my head really does. I see everything, even if it’s in the next room. I apparently have the ability to conjure up more than one I’m-all-business-so-knock-it-off face in the back of my head. I developed and honed such back-o’-the-head faces while teaching in Baltimore, strictly as a method of survival. You have to have those “looks” to quiet a rowdy class, nip trouble in the bud, and to successfully break up physical altercations without getting clocked yourself. But my tough glares bear no resemblance to what I’m all about. Fight Club R Not I.
In yesterday’s second post, I rambled on about how important it is to have rubbed shoulders with at least a handful of super-good folks in your life—people of character and compassion and insight. People worth emulating. And when you get yourself in a predicament, and you’re not sure what your next move should be, you can call on them for help, in person or in your mind. You can ask yourself what you think that person would do in your situation. The key to this strategy working is you have to be careful who you choose to consult with.
On the other hand, this whole panel-of-experts-in-your-head tool can work in reverse too—and still for your benefit. In my wanderings, I’ve met some people who don’t have any sense at all anywhere in their DNA. I’ve also met hateful people whose sketchy advice I would never take. You know persons like this too. Their image of themselves is that they are above the laws and civility that the rest of us cherish. They see our generosity as weakness. They believe you and I exist in order to serve them. They are in it for themselves, and for no other. Their lives are a mess because they are a mess. In short, they’re @$$holes.
I’ll just call one of these malicious people I know “A” for the purpose of this example. A few years ago when Suzanne bought a car from her dad, we took the title to the DMV to register it. Suzanne was filling out the required information on the title, when she got to the little box where you’re supposed to put the amount you paid for the car. Of course, people often fudge on that. They write in a lesser amount, to save a little on taxes. She jokingly asked me what amount she should put? I jokingly asked her, “What Would ‘A’ Do? (WWAD).” Neither one of us wants to ever be like “A,” so the right answer was clear. We did the opposite of what the predatory “A” would have done. We have used “A” as an anti-guiding light many times. Our ethical compasses are intact, so we don’t really need to ask WWAD, but doing it is fun. In fact, Suzanne and I make a game of going against what “A” would do—in bigly situations and in small ones.
So you see, bad examples can teach you valuable lessons. Bad examples can keep you on the right track, out of disgust for their nefarious behavior. A bad example is a weapon you can utilize for doing good, if you know how to use it properly. In the wrong hands, the WWAD weapon can lead you so far off the radar, you’ll wake up one morning and realize you are now just another @$$hole among @$$holes.
So Suzanne wrote down the exact dollar-amount she’d paid her dad for the vehicle. It cost more to register the car than we could have made it cost, but it didn’t cost her any character points on her Permanent Record.
If you’re anything like me, over the years you have developed your own pantheon of go-to experts you can summon up in your own mind when you find yourself in a predicament, with a pocketful of questions. They are generally folks whose character you admire and try to emulate. Of course, there’s Jesus, and the What Would Jesus Do? (WWJD) question to help guide you. A lot of people use that one.
One of my staples is WWJJD—as in What Would Judge Judy Do? Judy is bigly on fairness. She’s also loud and funny. She knows what to do and say in every situation. If you’re as lucky in the mother department as I am, you also consider What Would Mom Do? (WWMD). My mom is what I consider to be Judge Judy Lite. She can size up a situation in two seconds and then tell a hilarious and relevant true story that gives you a clue about your best options for solving a problem.
It’s always good to follow-up any need for assistance with WWDD—as in What Would Dad Do? It was Dad’s spirit I called upon a couple of day’s ago. I was cooking, and I nearly decapitated the tip of my left index finger while opening a package of Omaha Steaks. Oh, how the blood did spurt! Suzanne almost called 911, and she told me I needed a stitch or three. I did not disagree with her about the stitches, but there’s a pandemic going on out there, which made me leary about heading off to a hospital for a measly stitch.
I reflected on Dad and his occasional wounds from mishaps he incurred in the course of his beekeeping and bricklaying. He was not a klutzy guy at all, but accidents happen. During my kidhood, I witnessed him care for a number of work-wounds to his appendages. I did not witness him go to the doctor for his wounds. He sucked it up, cleaned it up, wrapped it up, and healed himself. WWDD? If Dad had maimed his finger as badly as I vexed mine, he would have simply stayed home and fallen asleep reading his newspaper. I knew sculpting myself a bandage and bending a splint—before falling asleep while reading the paper—would be exactly what he would counsel me to do.
Bandage Tie o’ the Day has aided my finger-healing greatly. I’m always happy to have an excuse to wear this novelty neckwear specimen. A terrific feature of bandage Tie is its padding in its middle section, just like with a real Band-Aid. If you ever see me wearing this live-and-in-person, please feel free to touch Tie for yourself. I believe in sharing the groovy stuff o’ life, no matter how ridiculous.
