Sticker Bow Ties o’ the Day have noticed I’m in the doghouse, as far as Skitter is concerned. When I don my bike helmet and head for the garage to get my bicycle, Skitter withers into one of her beds. The pout on her face is deafening. She knows I’m going outdoors without her, and she wants me to feel super guilty about leaving her home.
And I do feel guilty about it. She would enjoy a bike ride, I’m sure. But her legs wouldn’t be able to keep up with me if she tried to run at my side. She can’t yet ride a bike herself, and she hates to ride on the handlebars of mine. She’s too tall to fit in a bike basket. I thought of attaching a toddler trailer to my bike, but it would freak out The Skit to not be able to see my reassuring face every other second.
I mean– I know the solution. But I haven’t yet been able to actually locate or create the solution. What’s the solution? Skitter needs a sidecar attached to my bicycle. Heck, I could add a second sidecar to the other side of my bike for Mom. Oh, they’d both be in heaven. I wonder if Suzanne knows how to crochet bicycle sidecars.
Houndstooth, floppy Bow Tie o’ the Day ventured to Walmart with me this afternoon. I would have been all alone otherwise. And I have to say that I’m loving my “Toadsuck” hat, which I got in Arkansas earlier this month. I bought a second cap which spells the place’s name with two words: Toad Suck– which is the correct way to spell it. I’m kinda thinking one of the reasons Toad Suck, AR is a sucky place is that some people there don’t know how to spell it. Or they don’t know how to spell it consistently. For example, I purchased this hat at the Toad Suck One-Stop convenience store. Did ya catch that? The store spells its name as two words (correct), but sells the one-word Toadsuck baseball caps.
In a previous post, I mentioned that Toad Suck wasn’t much more than a mud-flooded park area and the convenience store. But I am so glad I visited the place. In conversations now, if there’s a lull, all I have to do is say, “Been to Toad Suck lately?” And I can start out sentences thus: “When I was in Toad Suck, Arkansas….” All ears are peeled to hear what comes after those words. I try to come up with something interesting.
The name itself throws people off kilter. I can say things that are technically true, although there’s no way in the world they will actually happen. For example, I can say, “I’ve been thinking we should build a house in Toad Suck when we retire.” People don’t know what to think. I don’t have any intention to retire to any place called Toad Suck, but it’s not a lie to say I’m thinking of it because I have thought of it for long enough to say the sentence. And it’s worth saying the sentence to see people’s faces get quizzical about the place.
Nobody has to have heard of Toad Suck, AR before I bring it up, in order for it to grab their focus. The ridiculous name is enough to get people paying attention. I dare you: Use TOAD SUCK in a sentence when you’re talking to at least one person. Watch the face. You won’t regret it. And feel free to report the reactions.
BTW I’ve had a few people ask what Toad Suck means when they’ve seen me wearing the hats. One person looked downright scared to ask me about it, but the urge to ask was too strong. The power of two words!
I spend time on the oddest things. For example, I wanted to make the title of this post both true and punny, so I thought about it for a while, then dumped out my Saddle Purse on the dining table. Voila! “Table O’ Contents.” I think readers like discovering tiny, clever details in what they read, and the writer has to put them there to be discovered. It takes more work than you can imagine.
Cleaning out my first and last purse (I hope) for the very first time was eye-opening. I won’t explain the entire haul that had grown inside the saddle. You can tell what most things are, and you know their uses. But I do want to highlight a few items.
The cowboy hat belongs to Skitter, although I have worn it a couple of times. She wore it last week to Delta when we didn’t find Mom. Once she realized Mom had busted out for the day, and she wouldn’t be seeing Grandma, Skitter got pouty and hung her head so low her hat kept slipping off. Into the purse, I put it. The hat is perched on my Triple Combination (Mormon scriptures, for you heathens out there). I had put the book into my purse Sunday before I went to church with Grace Anne, and I hadn’t taken it out yet. The lens on top of my Triple Combo is my monocle. Yup, it’s the monocle I’ve been looking for throughout the last few weeks. I’ve missed it.
The red booklet is just what it says it is: a copy of The Constitution. It’s always a fine read when you’re waiting somewhere in a long line. This copy is usually in the center console of my car, so I’ll return it to its spot. I don’t know how it got in my Saddle Purse.
In fact, as a fledgling carrier of a purse, I can attest to the fact that it’s a mystery how most of the things I found in my purse today got there. It’s as if purses magically become the way stations on the journey to where items really belong. And sometimes, like with the tobacco pipe you see here, things get into purses because they don’t have a place to be. I have no Pipe Room, you know. The reason I have a pipe is no more complicated than the fact that sometimes what you’re wearing just needs a prop pipe. I suppose what I really need to do is create a Prop Room, but we don’t want a bigger house. More importantly, I ain’t movin’ again.
Total # of notebooks found in the purse: 6. Total # of pens/pencils, including 1 CTR pencil: 10. Clip for a thick stack of papers: 1 gigantic pink one, which Suzanne brought me from a work trip in Augusta, GA. The red Snoopy/Christmas tree bow tie is a spare, one of my “stunt” ties. It’s one I carry “just in case.” Also, I’ve been carrying around my spiffy watch to help me remember to take it to the jeweler for repair. The spiffy watch hasn’t yet helped me remember to take it to the jeweler for repair, as you can see.
The orange and black tube at bottom, center in the photo is my generic EpiPen injector, filled with epinephrine to counteract my allergic reactions to bee stings. I carry it with me at all times. The SMARTIES are the size of quarters!
The dial-looking thing above the EpiPen is a pack of spare batteries for my hearing aid, which my ear doc insists I call a hearing “device.” Just above the CUTTER spray, you can see one of my headlamps. I honestly don’t remember exactly when I needed a headlamp in my purse, but I can pretty much guarantee it had to do with being able to read and/or write in the dark without bothering anyone.
Oddly, one of the material objects it would be difficult for me to be without is the bright orange matchbook-looking thing to the right of The Constitution. It is designed to be like a matchbook, but instead of matches, it contains Post-it notes. It makes me laugh every time I see it. It never gets old to me.
But do you “see” what I didn’t find in my Saddle Purse? My wallet! I had to go upstairs and search for it. I finally found it in the back pocket of a pair of my shorts, in the dirty clothes. I try to keep my wallet in The Saddle Purse, but I have decades of a wallet-in-back-pocket habit to overcome. Besides, before this morning’s evacuation of the purse, my poor thin wallet couldn’t have fit into anyway.
BTW Feel free to ask about any of the items that cluttered my Saddle Purse. The last snapshot is the end result of its first bigly overhaul.
Every few months, I see the contents of Suzanne’s purse dumped out on the bed. I have learned this means it’s time for her to ferret through the contents, making decisions about what goes into the garbage, what gets filed where, and what gets returned to the empty carcass of the purse.
In April, when I finally bought the one and only purse I’ve ever owned, I vowed my Saddle Purse would never need one of these bigly archaeological digs for relevant purse inventory. Of course, I was wrong. In the short amount of time I have owned and used a purse, I have come to the conclusion that a purse naturally fills up to its gills. It’s the work of a purse to carry what we think we need, and we always need far too much. We put things in it, because it’s there.
My observations of Suzanne with her purses tells me the size of the purse doesn’t matter. She has all sizes of purses, and whatever purse she’s carrying at any given time inevitably ends up overflowing. The smaller the purse, the quicker the next purse-cleaning happens.
This morning, I opened The Saddle Purse to what you see here. It was time. Some things must leave the purse. How in the world did this happen? I have become a true purse lady.
These photos show the closed Saddle Purse (with Bow Tie o’ the Day sticking out), the opened Saddle Purse, and the dumped-out pile of its contents. Stay tuned for the next post, where you will see the complete inventory. And let me say right now that even I was surprised at a couple of things I found inside.
Remember picture day in elementary school? What I most remember about it is that girls came to school with their hair all done up in ways they never wore their hair before or after that day. Their hair did not resemble their “true hair.” Fortunately (or unfortunately) for me, I had basically the same short, straight-bang haircut until I was 11, and nothing could be “done up” with that. My hairs always looked exactly like themselves, even on Picture Day.
Grace’s current hairdo is similar to my kidhood cut. Minions Bow Tie o’ the Day declares Little Miss Gracie-thang was in fine form yesterday when I and my SWWTRN mauled and squeezed her to bits before and during church at Bishop Travis’ Provo ward.
One of Bishopette Collette’s sisters and her husband visited Gracie’s ward yesterday as well. Bishopette Collette sat between both sides of the family, so she could fairly referee Gracie’s time spent with each of us. We all seem to be pretty good Sharers o’ the Grace– at least while Bishopette Collette is looking, and we’re sitting on a pew in Sacrament Meeting. Sharing is good, boys and girls. Choose The Share! (Seriously, Collette’s family is amazing, and I wish I knew them better than I do.)
From the very minute Suzanne and I got back home from our trip to the Ozarks, Skitter has been bugging me about how long it’s been since we have driven to Delta to spend the day with Mom. We all miss seeing Mom, but Skitter is downright annoying about it. Even Bow Tie o’ the Day feels annoyed at her. Skitter can fit her wish to see Mom into any sentence that flows from her stinky canine mouth.
For example, she’ll come inside from pottying first thing in the morning, and she’ll say something like, “Grandma would love to sit with me on the patio right now to watch the sun come up over the hills behind our house.” And then, after Skitter finishes her dog chow breakfast, she’ll say, “Grandma’s mush was the best. I’m glad she always saved a little to give me. I need to check on her to make sure she’s eating her breakfast.” And then, mid-morning, Skitter will say to me, “Isn’t this about the time we used to drive Peggy and Grandma to Cardwell’s every day for a drink? Do you think Grandma needs us to take her a drink?” When I fill the gas tank at 7-11, Skitter says, “I bet there’s enough gas in the car now to drive to see Grandma.” And on and on, throughout the day. You know how it is. I’m sure your kids did the same thing to you. If there was something they wanted you to do or buy, they managed to constantly insert the topic into every situation.
I miss Mom every minute of every day, too. But Skitter needs to quit pestering me about it. I go as often as I can. It’s not like I’m going to forget about spending time with Helen Sr. if Skitter doesn’t nag me about visiting her. I’ve started to wear earplugs around the house when it’s just me and The Skit, so I don’t have to hear her talk about it anymore.
And so… this morning, I put on my cowboy boots and a flip flop Bow Tie o’ the Day, and Skitter and I drove 2 1/2 hours to Delta, to Millard Care and Rehab– to spend a chunk of the day with Mom. But the old girl wasn’t there! Nope. The story I got was that Mom and two of her MCR caregivers escaped to an LDS Temple a few minutes before I showed up. You, go, girls!!!
Skitter was so traumatized and sad about not finding Mom at MCR that I had to nearly drag her off Mom’s bed so we could drive right back home. I left a MUNCH candy bar and a bag of chewy ginger cookies on Mom’s pillow so she’ll know I really was there to visit her.
BTW Notice how Mom was so excited to get to the Temple that she didn’t even straighten up her bed before she headed up north.
And another BTW Thank you again, folks of MCR, for treating Mom like the glorious damsel she is.
Bow Tie o’ the Pioneer Day, combined with Shirt o’ the Day, shares some Utah state flag colors with us, minus the gold. I wish to share a few Pioneer Day tidbits o’ trivia.
Did ya know that Pioneer Day is officially a celebration of more than just the LDS pioneers finding their way to the Salt Lake Valley? It’s dedicated to everyone of any faith and any nationality who emigrated to the Salt Lake Valley during the pioneer era, which ended with the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869.
In 1886, the Pioneer Day celebration was more of a mourning than a celebration. The Salt Lake Tabernacle was decorated in black bunting. Latter-day Saints who were in hiding or imprisoned for polygamy offenses were eulogized.
You can now attend Pie and Beer (sounds like “pioneer”) Day parties, held by those who find the official July 24th festivities a bit too confining.
Traffic-wise, according to the Utah Department of Public Safety, Pioneer Day has the state’s second highest holiday traffic fatality rate. (July 4th has the highest.)
My own personal Pioneer Day trivia is that I once ate a chocolate-covered, “Mormon-Cricket”-on-a-stick which I bought for $2 at a food booth at Sugarhouse Park. I ate the crunchy critter while we watched the 24th fireworks there one year in the 80’s. The sticked bug tasted okay, but I didn’t need to consume seconds.
FYI The Mormon Cricket did not taste like chicken.
I’ve been wearing my magnetic, wood bow ties a lot this summer. They work so well for t-shirts and tanks. I threw on my extreme sports-themed magnetic Bow Tie o’ the Day this morning, and I started thinking about all the possibilities. I can attach so many metallic objects to the inside-the-shirt magnet. My choices are limited only by my imagination.
Here are a few things I tried this morning: an Altoids tin; a pen; clothes pins; tweezers; my meds canister; a notebook; my Delta Airlines wings; my jump drive; my razor; scissors; a screw driver; a meat thermometer; a seam ripper; my goldfish-in-a-bag earrings; my hearing aid; a paperclip.
The same day we drove to check out the amazing Toad Suck (as described in this morning’s post), yellow flower Bow Tie o’ the Day and I made sure we got to Pickles Gap. Pickles Gap Village is a tiny conglomeration of a half-dozen businesses on a bigly Conway, AR corner property. Pickles Gap Village boasts a playground, restaurant, fudge shop, tiny outdoor concert venue, 2 clothing boutiques, and “antique” stores. I use the term “antique” to cover the likes of thrift stores, secondhand stores, vintage stores, consignment shops, as well as antique stores. Whatever term you want to give these stores, they were everywhere we went. They were as ever-present in Arkansas as the churches. I expected boatloads of churches, but the prevalence of antique stores was a bigly surprise.
Suzanne spent so much time in one of the combo antique/boutique’s at Pickles Gap that I was certain she had moved in. She ended up finding “birthday” jewelry, of course. And “birthday” clothing, which was not a birthday suit. She already has one of those. I saw the blinged-out bow tie purse, but I didn’t need it. I have The Saddle Purse, so I shall forever pine for no other purse.
We enjoyed the antique store owners. They loved their stores. They loved each and every item on the shelves, and they knew stories about the objects and their people. Chatting with the salespeople was enlightening and jovial. We felt at ease and valued in every business. The owners/salespeople were interested to know our stories too. They asked as many questions as we did, I think.
Hey! In one of the Pickles Gap Village antique stores, I spied this little trough of plastic toy soldiers, with a thoughtful reminder to pray for real soldiers.
A common farewell we got from salespersons in almost every business as we left was, “Have a blessed day!” I loved saying, “You, too” in response to that sentiment. It doesn’t matter if you’re a believer in any god or religion, or in the idea of blessings. It matters that you can recognize others are telling you they wish your life to be smothered in good. They want to send positive vibrations your way. Look for those vibes/blessings. Find them. Be grateful for them. And then, send the hope back out there.
Tie o’ the Day just had to visit a place called Toad Suck while we were in Arkansas. I admit it was the one destination that was on my gotta-see list, even before I was on the plane for vacay. It’s a fine name. It’s the kind of name that will inflict curiosity on others when I mention I was there. At stuffy parties I can easily break the ice by asking, “Hey, any y’all ever visited Toad Suck?”
To be honest, the name is the most interesting thing about Toad Suck. It is not a town. It consists of basically the Toad Suck One-Stop convenience store, the Toad Suck Ferry Lock and Dam, and Toad Suck Park by the Arkansas river. The park keeps getting flooded and is apparently locked up and unusable. But I can say I saw those three sights that make up Toad Suck. I wasn’t disappointed by Toad Suck one bit. I completely expected it to suck, and it did. As for the “toad” part of its name, I’m sure there are plenty of toads on the river side of the park, where we couldn’t go because the park was closed. I expected nothing more and nothing less.
BTW Toad Suck Daze is a festival that goes on each May in the city of Conway, AR. Toad Suck sucks so much it isn’t even capable of holding its own community celebration. Perfect.
