Category: Bow Ties

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All I Know Is That I Can Do This

Cufflinks o’ the Day can’t take their eyes off Bow Tie o’ the Day and Shirt o’ the Day. I think Cufflinks have a crush on the other two attire stars here. I was pleased I managed to introduce our Halloween black and orange to the Breast Cancer Awareness Month pink. I knew they would all hit it off.

I have never tried to be a matchmaker of people. And with clothing, I purposely strive to NOT match as many articles of any outfit as I can. That’s my style. Neither do I claim to be clairvoyant, but I do have an uncanny “gift” for knowing people. Specifically, I am almost perfectly accurate about couples who marry or live together. I can “see” which couples will stay together for the long haul. And I can “see” which couples do not have a chance in hell or heaven to stay coupled. I can “see” more about it than other people can.

I would never say anything to any couple whose future I “see.” I could be wrong about what comes to me, although I’ve mostly been right. And I don’t want to risk jinxing a relationship. I’ve had the same mostly accurate “sight” in AA rooms: I have a mostly accurate inkling of who’s gonna make it to sobriety and who isn’t.

I don’t try to “see” these things. They just occur to me. And I don’t treat people any differently than I would if I hadn’t glimpsed this stuff. In fact, this “gift” is something I would really rather not have. And I wonder this: Why do I have this ability? I believe gifts and talents have some kind of purpose. I believe they should be used for good purposes. But I can’t imagine what positive purpose my “seeing” stuff like this has. The only thing my “seeing” is to me is a bigly weight I carry. I carry the “gift” itself and the question of what I’m supposed to do with it. I have a hard time thinking it’s somehow just for me to know something about these things. I’m stumped. 🔮 👳‍♀️

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The Flying Leeches

After brunch yesterday, Bow Tie o’ the Day and I accompanied Suzanne to Home Depot, where she got plant pots the size of wine barrels. Bow Tie and I got distracted by this wasp-killing spray display.

This “can” stood about 7-feet tall, and I realized the can should be labeled Delta-size. And it should be mosquito repellent. A can this size could get you through almost an entire week’s worth of summer evenings outside in Delta. And I do mean “almost.” Realistically, you’d probably need at least a can and 1/3 of this Delta-size repellent to save you from the skeeters for that length of time. I am not using hyperbole about this. 🐜 🙀 (I couldn’t find a mosquito emoji. The ant will have to suffice.😜 )

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I Had To Get Out And Do Something On The Sabbath

Bow Tie o’ Yesterday and I had a bad day, even though we went to Sunday brunch AND made a foray to Home Depot. I was nauseous and in pokey pain, and I was in a crabby, crappy mood. But we determined to muddle though. We did what we did, and then when we got home, we weren’t up to posting.

We brunched at a restaurant called PORCH, a 40-minute drive away, in Daybreak. It was worth the drive. If you want grits or Johnny cakes, it’s your place. I can attest that their crawfish were delightful.

I wore my new designer cape to brunch. (Suzanne does good work, eh?) It was my first public wearin’ o’ the cape, and it seemed to be a hit. No one mistook it for a Halloween costume, and Suzanne wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with me in it. As I’ve mentioned before, she rarely has a problem with my fashion choices. She rarely bats an eye at any of my shenanigans. I have noticed, however, that she is increasingly concerned about my scraggled-up hairs. She is beginning to not walk close to me because of them. She is on the verge of being embarrassed by my mop. I can’t blame her. I don’t want to be seen in its company either right now. But we must remember: Beauty is a process sometimes. We must trudge through the ugly parts, to arrive at our beauty destination.

Sometimes we must even trudge through the sneeze, as you can see I had to. I wanted you to see the photo of me doing just that. I’m glad Suzanne snapped the pic right before the sneeze, so I could see how I look when I achoo. I have always wondered about that. I wonder about odd things. It keeps me young.

Mostly, I included more than one photo because I felt like showing off my Suzanne-made cape again and again and again. I am bragging about her handiwork, as much as I am bragging about how breathtaking I look when I’m wearing it. 😸

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Mom And I Ain’t Askeered

Bow Tie o’ the Day is one of my favorites to wear. I have a grand time showing off my novelty neckwear– like my Skittles bow tie, or my wood mustache bow ties, or my Band-aid tie. But I never tire of a simply beautiful, colorful tie of any type.

Paisley is probably my fave design pattern, so I tend to collect ties with paisles (my word) on them. Polka dots are fabulous too. But when I’m cremated, I guarantee I will be wearing one of my paisley bow ties. I have given that instruction to Suzanne already. At some point, I will need to designate which bow tie it will be, but I’m not thinking about it yet. Hey, I’m not dwelling on dying. I don’t expect to do it soon. (Knock on wood.) And my surgery probably bought me a decade more than if I hadn’t had it. (Knock on wood again.)

I can’t deny death has been on my mind the last few years. I figured my Hanky Panky would take me out of the game long before we could do anything about the dang organ. But mostly, it’s Mom who has had me thinking about death. Her death.

Even before she broke her hip last year and things have kinda headed downhill for her health-wise, Mom would occasionally say to me– out of the blue– things like, “Write this down. I want so-and-so to speak at my funeral.” Or, “Here. I want this picture on my funeral program.” She’s also been giving away her possessions for a few years. She’s been downsizing. I guess you could consider that to be a way of unpacking her baggage for her next, last trip. We all travel light when we die.

I think that since Dad died, in 2007, she has been making her peace with the end of her turn on the planet. She certainly has never stopped living a loud life, but she hasn’t been shy about talking with me about her death. She is not afraid of it. And I have heard her say a few choice words to Dad about getting off his lazy butt and climbing out of his grave– so obviously she can joke about it. But ultimately, Mom is very clear that she is not done here yet. Yay!

Personally, I think Mom is one of the Three Nephites (Mormon reference), so she’ll never die. She’ll just wander around in her housecoat doing good deeds, for time and all eternity.

I’m cool with that.

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I’m Growing It As Fast As I Can

Bow Tie o’ the Day has been overhearing an ongoing– though not constant– “argument” between me and Suzanne. It seems Suzanne is not at all happy with me growing out my hair. This photo makes a good case for her side of the “argument.” She is no longer happy looking at my not-pretty hairs. And she is tired of me wearing hats and bandanas to disguise its awkwardness.

Suzanne has even threatened to take over my posts and beg y’all to rescind your grow-out-your-hair votes. Her protestations have not swayed me from pursuing my goal, and she thinks yours might. Nope. I am committed to growing out my all my hairs for one last time in my life. I will not be dissuaded.

I do have a slight fear that she will reach her absolute limit of patience with my hairs, and I will get out of bed one morning to find my hairs have been hacked off during the night, while I peacefully slept and dreamed of my eventual long, sexy mane. And that would be a double whammy for me. I’d have no longish hairs AND I’d have to change the sheets before I took a nap. 💇

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Any Mention Of BYU Makes Me Think Of Trav

Pink Bow Tie o’ the Day brings the extra large– to bigly remind you October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. This wide, fat style of bow tie is commonly referred to as a Big Boy. I found this one at a company called Phat Knot.

As for the BYU hat… All I can say is that although I am a U of U fan, through and through, I have to give props to “The Y” every now and again because Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette both work there. They themselves keep that institution of higher learning functioning smoothly. That might be stretching the truth just a little, but not much.

You should see Travis and Collette in the same room together: No matter what else is going on around them, you can almost see their adoration for each other seep out of their pores. It’s not a sappy thing to behold. It’s not a matter of public displays of affection. It’s as if some sort of love halo forms over and around them when they are together. They remind me of my parents in that way.

If everyone had that kind of love in their lives, the planet would be automatically transformed. Having that kind of love in your heart makes it impossible to have any desire to do harm to another human being.

I hope you live in the “love halo.” I know I damn sure do. ❣️ 😇

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Ice Cream Is The Freezing-est Food Group

The things you do– they tell on you. Even Bow Tie o’ the Day can see that. Yup, that is, in fact, a teeny drip of chocolate ice cream on my chin. It’s not huge, but it is there. It might surprise you to know this, but I don’t have a make-up artist and a hair stylist to primp me every day before I snap these tblog selfies. I’m sorta wash-and-wear. As a result, this afternoon my chin tells on me that I have been eating ice cream for lunch again. What my chin doesn’t tell you is that I ate the last of the ice cream, so I’ve gotta go to Dick’s Market to replenish my supply.

To properly stock up on ice cream, you must have a plan. I can help you out with that. First, you must know that there are a number of premium brands of ice cream made with gobs of sugar and cream, and it’s better to eat no ice cream at all than to eat no-name brand, lard-laden ice cream. Go for the best. One extremely rich brand or another is always on sale.

Second, choose your flavors wisely. You never know what flavor of ice cream you’re going to crave at any given time. To assure that what you crave is always in the freezer, buy a well thought-out variety: A tub o’ vanilla is a must buy. You can eat it plain, or you can douse it with any of a variety of syrups– and you can load it with candies or fruits. Next, make sure you have some kind of chocolatey ice cream. And then make sure to get a fruity ice cream. And, if it’s to your taste, you need to stock an ice cream dotted with nuts too. You have to cover all the taste bases.

At the grocery store, after you’ve made your basic selections for the ice cream pantry you’ve made of your freezer, it is your duty to choose one Ben & Jerry’s flavor for your special self– for you only. It does not matter how much your little pint of ice cream costs. It does not matter how many calories of fat it harbors. We must think of that pint as our reward for getting our sorry asses off the couch to go grocery shopping.

Even if all we buy is ice cream.

BTW   Keep wearing your pink this month, to show your support for Breast Cancer Awareness.

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Dr. Bow Says, “Later”

Bow Tie o’ the Day added some zip to my appointment with my pain doctor, Dr. Bow, this afternoon. She was pleased with Bow Tie, but not so pleased with my current pain situation. Oh, apparently I’m healing up from surgery just dandily. But there are enough tweaks and jabs going on in the vicinity of my belly right now that we decided it’s probably best to not change anything pain medication-wise, until my belly brouhaha calms down. In a few months, I should have a much more accurate gauge of my intricate pain situation.

How bloody long does this recovery take? I’m losing my patience with not being able to do every last thing I want to do. I want my way. And I want it now. And my way is to go about my regular activities without worrying about pulling some innard or another. And I want to ditch my pain meds– or at least knock ’em down a notch– if I so desire. And I do.

What truly scares me is the fact that my Whipple procedure might not ease any of my pancre-ass pain. My surgeon told me before we scheduled the surgery that even a successful operation still might not solve the pancreatic pain issues. He said there was no guarantee the operation would diminish one iota of ouch.

Apparently, pancreatic stones are not like gall stones or kidney stones. With gall stones and kidney stones, if you get rid of the stones, the pain goes with them. Not necessarily so, with pancreas stones. But after almost twenty years of trying to deal with my panky, my pain had worsened to the point that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I decided it was worth taking the risk– hoping it will eventually relieve some of the agony.

Also, I could no longer stand Suzanne constantly pestering me to take the chance and go under the knife. Her nagging me to give in and have surgery was another kind of pain. A pain in the butt, to be precise. Don’t you just hate it when somebody wants what’s best for you? It’s such a pain to be loved.

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Dr. Bow Does Not Wear Bow Ties

Orange Bow Tie o’ the Day and black Shirt o’ the Day join up with pink-lettered Hat o’ the Day, for a confluence of the upcoming Halloween holiday AND Breast Cancer Awareness month.

It’s perfectly clash-ceptable fashion to throw together holidays and causes in one outfit. Call attention to as many topics in one fashion statement as you wish. Different onlookers will concentrate on whichever theme strikes them. You’ll grow your audience simply by multiplying your garb’s themes. I don’t really recommend wearing more than three or four topics in one outfit, because you risk confusing onlookers and making them dizzy. As always, though, clash fashion allows you to do whatever the heck you want. You dress yourself. Make it interesting to yourself.

I have a doc appointment this afternoon in SLC with my pain doc, Dr. Bow. (That’s not her real name, but her name has a syllable pronounced BOW in it, so that’s how I will refer to her in posts.) For Dr. Bow, I like to be extra choosy about the bow tie I wear when I see her. She expects me to show up in a bow tie that will make her “oooh” and “ahhh” at each appointment– in honor of her name. I would never dishonor her by wearing a necktie to an appointment.

Dr. Bow has been my pain doc for six years, but I haven’t had an appointment with her since the day before my surgery. I had chronic pancreatitis for 18 years before I was able to have the surgery. That meant I had chronic gut pain for that same 18 years. And that meant taking pain meds, which I hate. But they were necessary for me if I wanted to have a life with any kind of movement in it.

Getting the correct pain medication and an adequate dosage of it is tricky. To quell the pain completely would have required that I take a high enough dosage to basically put me in a coma. Being comatose is not living. So Dr. Bow’s task has been to find a med and dosage that handled enough of the pain so that I could make it through a day able to do most normal things, but without making me lethargic and loopy. And comatose. Dr. Bow helped me get the right med, in the right dosage, so I’ve been able to live a productive, fulfilling, useful life.

I tell you about all of this to give you some context about how important today’s appointment is to me. I’m hoping Dr. Bow will agree to let me cut down the current dosage of my pain med. I think I am feeling less pancreatic pain since my surgery. It is difficult for me to accurately assess my pain, however, because I still have all kinds of intermittent tugs, pulls, stabs, jabs, and pains going on in my healing innards. Dr. Bow will help me figure out some of that.

Wish me luck. Cross your fingers that I can nix some of my med. I’m crossing what’s left of my pancreas.

#iwantoffmymeds  #ithinkthesurgeryhelped  #drbowwillseemyprettyscar

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Button, Button, Who’s Got The Button?

As you can see from some bare bins and shelves, Suzanne still hasn’t finished filling The Ultimate SewingBox. She wants to get her supplies situated in just the right places, so she’s thinking things through extremely carefully. She’s even experimented with chairs– like Goldilocks– to find the perfect one for her height and butt.

In one of those bins, on one of those shelves, lives an ever-increasing population of buttons. She has the buttons. But I have the button Bow Tie o’ the Day. Actually, I bought Bow Tie for Suzanne to wear while working at her sewing machine. I thought that would make a good post photo. But I am insanely greedy about my bow ties. Every once in a blue moon, I can share. But I couldn’t share this one, even though it was my sincere intention to do so. I think I’m jealous that Suzanne can craft and sew and play with buttons, and I can’t do any of those things. Bow Tie is the only way I can play along. It’s the only way I can be part of the sewing agenda.

I mean– I’m resting in the recliner today, and since an entire wall of the living room is taken up byThe Ultimate SewingBox, it’s impossible to not gaze upon it constantly without even trying. Oh, I like it, and I told Suzanne I wanted it here in the living room, so she’s not going to always be shut away in a 2nd-floor room, being crafty all by herself. We would never see each other because she would never come downstairs again.

Sometimes, though, I feel left out of what goes on in the living room since the arrival of The Ultimate SewingBox. When Suzanne had a couple of sewing machines on the table, I didn’t feel left out like I feel now. But now that The Ultimate SewingBox has taken up residence here, Suzanne is more obsessed with it than either of us could have predicted. On the other hand, I guess I really did know this would happen.

And that’s why I bought us a 65-inch TV, which is far too big for the living room. It takes up a bigly amount of space on the wall adjoining The Ultimate SewingBox wall. It’s the only way I can compete. It’s the only way I can distract my eyes from focusing even their peripheral vision on Suzanne’s object of eternal joy. Two can play at this game. I’d like to see Suzanne try to ignore me and that TV now.