Category: Bow Ties

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A Photo On Our Homeward-bound Flight

Bow Tie o’ the Day was spittin’ mad at the alarm clock this morning. We had to get out of bed at 4 AM to make our 6 AM flight from Albuquerque. We were back in SLC by 7:30 AM. Nap time!

I am double tired today because– not only did we have a mere few hours sleep at the hotel last night– Suzanne snored every minute of those few hours, which meant I did not catch a wink.

She doesn’t do that normally. I think she did it on purpose, just to amuse herself. Every once in a blue moon she does something like that just to act like she controls our lives. I don’t know why she has to flex her boss muscles. It’s not like she needs to prove anything. We both know she really is the boss of us. And that fact is not fake news. Even Skitter knows who wears the” big girl panties” in the family. 🤠

 

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An Unexpected Joy Of This Trip To ABQ

Smiley faces Bow Tie o’ the Night tops off this ensemble– which was made possible by the fact that I forgot to pack my pajamas for this trip. Consequently, I have HAD to wear my fancy, old timey swimming suit to sleep in. I’m so happy about the whole thing that I just might accidentally-on-purpose forget to put my pj’s in my suitcase for every trip.

My swimming attire is comfy and amusing. It’s difficult for me, or anyone in my presence, to take things too seriously when I’m wearing it. I’m wearing the button-down shirt because I was heading to the vending machine for a Diet Coke, and I was trying to disguise the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. The shoes are my cool animal print Sloggers. And yes, I had to wear Bow Tie. I can’t be seen without some kind of tie– even by hotel guests I don’t even know. It’s a trademark at this point. I’m like the sharks that will die if they stop swimming. If I stop wearing neckwear, I will most likely disappear.

I remember that as a wee kid I occasionally wanted to sleep in my swimming suit– especially when I got a new one. I doubt I was the only kid who wanted to catch some z’s in pool attire. I have no idea why it seemed like such a fun thing to do, but I also did not understand why adults had such a hard time allowing children to do this innocuous thing. In my circle of pals, I was the only kid whose parents had no problem with the idea. I was always allowed to sleep in it. Whenever I asked Mom or Dad if I could do it, I got an answer along the lines of, “I don’t care if you sleep in your holster and cowboy boots. Just go to bed.” Ah, the joys of being the afterthought baby of the family!

My parents were exhausted pros by the time I made my appearance on the planet, so they were loose-goosey with me about inconsequential things. Their previous parenting had taught them which battles mattered and which battles were much ado about nothing. The “nothing” battles  needed to not be fought, and sometimes not even commented on. Apparently, sleeping in a swimming suit was a “nothing” battle.

Mom told me flat-out once that she and Dad would spoil me, but that I was not allowed to be a spoiled brat. She said she and Dad were done doing all the vacations, etc. they did with the other kids, so I shouldn’t expect any of that. She said, “We’ll give you stuff and let you do what you want. But you’re not allowed to be a snot.” She wasn’t completely serious, but she sorta was. I got the message. If I was respectful of others and kind to them, I was a-ok with my parents. I didn’t go without material kid things. But mostly, I did not go without constant love and care and security. I was spoiled with those things every minute of my childhood. And of my adulthood. And of my middle-age-hood. And of whatever age-hood I’m in now.

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Six Eyes Are Better Than Four

Bow Tie o’ the Day didn’t get apprehensive or nauseous on our balloon ride this morning. Yesterday’s rain was nowhere in sight, so we drove just a bit north of Albuquerque to Rainbow Ryders. They had not lost my flight reservation, so it was all thumbs up for me to levitate in a basket with a dozen strangers– at 7AM.

Now you might think that for me, choosing the exact right bow tie for the outing would be the most important thing. Normally, that is true for most of the things I do and the places I go. But no! This morning the most important preparation I had to make with more-than-the-usual great care was to use an entire tube of Fixodent to glue in my dentures extra snuggly. I mean– if you lose those things from a thousand feet in the air, you ain’t gettin’ ’em back. It would certainly make for a wild story and a host of amusing photos, but gee… that’s pushing my loud life over the boundaries. And my wallet wouldn’t be happy about it either. I cannot abide buying things I already have.

It was a tight fit for us peeps in the basket. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I was glad most of the group used deodorant and had brushed their teeth before they showed up and climbed in.

Bow Tie actually helped break the uncomfortable-ness of being a group of strangers. Bow Tie became a focal point of comments, which broke the ice. And a couple of women asked for TIE O’ THE DAY’s web address– because of how much they adored Bow Tie.

And even though I asked her if she wanted to go, Suzanne did not decide to go with me at the last minute. And I knew she wouldn’t. In fact, I am grateful she didn’t try to go. I was just being polite when I asked her to accompany me. See, Suzanne has this motion sickness issue. She is The Queen o’ Motion Sickness. It would not have been pretty. She’s such a queasy gal that the fact the ride was so smooth it felt as if we weren’t moving wouldn’t have mattered. And it was smoooooth. We Bucket-list-checker-offers were six feet off the ground before I realized we had begun our ascent.

Kris, our balloon pilot, maneuvered us down to a mere two feet above the Rio Grande. And then he took us up over trees on the banks almost immediately–barely scraping the trees’ highest leaves. Terrifying in a fun way. Still, it was smooth sailing.

When you land, you feel it. Not hard, but you know you’ve touched down. Kris recommended we sorta bend our legs at touch-down to soften it a bit. He also said touching-down with straight legs has occasionally snapped a leg bone or two. Bend our legs at the knee, we all did.

And to wrap things up, we all got a certificate for surviving our ballooning. And Kris poured us all a glass of Champagne to toast our accomplishment. Guess who couldn’t drink. I looked at it, smelled it, listened to its bubbles. Then I dumped it and drank my Diet Coke. Pilot Kris looked at me knowingly and said, “I’ve got 15 years sober. How many do you have?” I told him I’ve got 11. How did he know, when I hadn’t said a thing about being an alcoholic? Do we all look alike to each other? I have a theory: I’ve heard of radar and gay-dar. And, apparently, there’s drunk-dar.

 

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Rain, Rain, Don’t Rain On Albuquerque Tomorrow

Bow Tie o’ the Day is trying to keep me hopeful. It’s rained here the last two mornings, and I have a hot air balloon flight scheduled for early tomorrow morning. If there’s rain, there’s no flight.

I feel like I was duped into reserving my space in the balloon basket. Whenever I mentioned I was going to Albuquerque to anyone, they’d ask me if I was gonna do a balloon ride. I decided I should do it to see what all the hubbub is about. But I thought the kind of balloons they were talking about were like big balloon animals created by clowns. They’d be the size of horses and elephants, and I’d just throw a saddle on and head for the hills. I didn’t know they meant hot air balloons– kinda like the Hindenburg.

Okay, so I did really know what the balloon flight was all about. And I know that ABQ has a bigly hot air balloon festival every year, so balloon rides are part of the ABQ culture. But I thought you’d appreciate imagining clowns twisting balloons into large animals, and putting saddles on them.

I’ve never been a daredevil in terms of physical activities where you could maim yourself. I might be a clash fashion risk-taker, but I doubt I could break bones or decapitate myself with my fashion choices. I’m not an askeered person about death-defying adventures. I just know my limits and my likes.

I’m not antsy about tomorrow’s balloon flight. I’m not going to run out and up my life insurance or anything. However, I must admit that there is one tiny hole in my courage that kinda hopes it rains in the morning, so I can skip the ride without chickening out– and then I can whine to everyone about how disappointed I am that it was cancelled.

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Here, There, Everywhere

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are ecstatic to be back posting. This is a photo I took at LAX, when we were waiting for our return flight to SLC. I have no idea who the silly critter is who’s behind me. All I can tell you is that no matter where I moved to do my snapping, she was there photo-bombing my selfies. I didn’t mind. I was happy to know I added interest to the child’s wait at the airport.

Anyhoo… I hate it when I completely disappear from posting for a few days. It’s happened three times since the end of June. And I don’t like it one bit. All three instances when I was unable to post for a few days at a time were the result of WiFi glitches.

First, I wanted to post from the hospital according to my usual schedule during my surgery week. But WiFi wasn’t working in my room. I had to nix that idea.

Second, I wanted to post daily when Suzanne and I beached around on Dauphin Island. But the WiFi on the island was hit-and-miss due to Tropical Storm Gordon having spent time there the day before we arrived.

And then, in L.A. over the weekend, I discovered we would have had to pay to get access to WiFi in our room. I am not cheap. I am not a skinflint. But I will not pay for WiFi in a hotel room I already paid an arm and a leg and 2/3 of a pancreas for. No, sir! Not this dame! It’s true I could have sat in the lobby– where the Wi Fi was free– and plunked away at my posts for a one or two hours each day. But I ain’t doing that either.

And yesterday (Monday) we were mostly in airports: LAX to SLC, and then from SLC to ABQ. Writing and posting wasn’t really a possibility under those circumstances. Never fear! TIE O’ THE DAY is back online. At least until we’re not again.

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And Icarus, To Boot

Bow Tie o’ the Day and Hat o’ the Day flapped their wings to fly us all the way to the hazy city of Los Angeles this morning. The flight crew was grateful for the help the attire provided, and our flight went swimmingly, as they say. (I don’t know why they say that.)

In these photos I am taking a break in the hotel lobby, just minding my own beeswax– la de da de da…. And then suddenly my head whipped around in a fit of paranoia and fear. The Hilton Los Angeles Airport conspiracy is on: $3 for a 20 oz. Diet Coke. I’m afraid. Very afraid. Suzanne and I will need to take out a second mortgage in order to support my cola habit for the weekend.

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How Do You Explain These Things To A Mutt?

Look at me! Bow Tie o’ the Day and Hat o’ the Day match. I can make that happen sometimes, but it’s usually by accident. Not this time though. I meant to do this. I’m trying to distract Skitter from what’s about to happen.

I’m trying desperately to jolly up the Skit, because in a couple of hours, Suzanne and I are off to the airport to leap on a jet which will land in L.A.. Skitter knows somethin’s up. Her face in this photo is about to break my bow-tied heart. Her eyes look sadly bereft, despite the sombrero she let me put atop her doggie noggin. I was certain that a fun hat would bring her out of her doldrums. It always has that effect on me. But sporting this sombrero only ALMOST made her smile.

It’s hard on us to leave Skitter– with all her fears, her phobias, her fruit loopiness, and her vibrating. But the minute Suzanne’s angel of a sister, Marjorie, comes over this morning to stay with Skitter for an entire week o’ sleepovers, Skitter will perk up. In fact, Skitter will shed a lot of her skittishness, at the very sight of Marjorie. Marjorie has captured Skitter’s shaking, long-legged heart.

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Books You Can Hold, Crafts You Can Create, And Head Hairs You Can’t Tame

Bow Tie o’ the Day has a really, really, really double-tough challenge for you. Try to guess which store listed on the sign is the reason I drove to this block in Layton. As much as Suzanne likes BARNES & NOBLE, she is even more mesmerized by MICHAELS. I, however, am here solely for the books. Yes, this was an un-tough, un-challenging challenge. I gave you a rest from thinking too hard.

Check out the gang o’ hairs sticking out from over my left ear. I can’t wait until what used to be the shaved area of my crown is long enough for me to put it behind my ears. Now, my daily hairs rant is over.

And at this moment I’m headed to The Tie Room to pack neckwear into one suitcase for my L.A. trip and into another suitcase for my Albuquerque trip. Prepare for a week’s worth of posts from your friendly, clashing foreign correspondent.

BTW  I’m taking my funky swimming suit on BOTH trips, and I kinda want to wear it all week. With my cape. And with hats. And with bandanas. I’m thinking Suzanne might put her foot down about the cape. It’s bound to happen once. 👙

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I’m Being Sly

Bow Tie o’ the Day is assisting me in doing some subliminal pestering. In the two weeks since Suzanne created my eye-catching cape, this is the third post in which it appears. I’m hoping Suzanne will take this subtle hint that I want another cool cape ASAP. Oh, this cloak is snazzy enough to be in every post, but you know that is not at all how I roll. I don’t do singles of ritzy attire. I do bigly collections.

Right after Suzanne finished making this Cape o’ the Day, she said she’d get right to the job of making me another one. And then….. Well, she got distracted by making quilt tops, so I am selfishly trying to nudge her back toward making me capes –by wearing it whenever I get the chance and by posting it publicly. I would rather be manipulative about pulling her back into the cape-making biz than come off as nagging and pestering. Yes, I am attempting to subliminally maneuver Suzanne out of piecing together quilt tops and back into caping for yours truly.

Suzanne is not stoopid. She will see the cape over and over again in my post photos, and she will know exactly what I am hinting for her to do. She knows my tricks. She sees through every move I make. She sees through every move I will EVER make. But… when we return home from our week o’ adventure next Saturday, I won’t be surprised one bit to find Suzanne will suddenly feel the urge to make me another fancy-shmancy cape.

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Fear, Songs, And Foot-stompin’

Bow Tie o’ the Day is brand spankin’ fresh. It appeared in the mailbox just a few days ago. The only problem I personally have when wearing spider designs around my neck, is that I get the No Doubt song, “Spiderwebs” stuck in my head for a couple of days. I like the song, but there is no song in the universe wonderful enough that I can stand it to be repeated in my brain constantly for two days. Between the repetitions of “Spiderwebs,” sometimes my head throws in a few repetitions of No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak” and “I’m Just A Girl,” which are absolutely remarkable songs.

Suzanne has an issue with spiders, so she hasn’t seen Bow Tie in person yet. And I’ll make sure she doesn’t. This picture will be probably all she can tolerate. I guess she could just not look at me while I’m wearing any of my spider neckwear, but that would be almost impossible for her to do, since we actually live in the same house. And it’s not easy to not look at me, because of the hypnotic effect my blinding fashion choices create.

Now I’m not saying I have a love affair with spiders, but I must admit that I do like smashing the damn things when they cross my path. There’s something about the sound of that tiny spider-crunch under my shoe that puts a bigly smile on my face. That crunch makes me feel like a slayer o’ dragons, which makes me feel mighty tough.

And, of course, I always brag to Suzanne about my spider killings. It earns me points with her that I would do something she considers dangerous, in order to save her from what scares her. I rack up the goodwill points with each trophy spider I slay.  I hope it doesn’t make me an unethical spider hunter that we don’t eat what I kill. 🕸 👟 🕷