Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
A couple of readers asked me to display an up-close look at the Easter Bow Tie o’ the Day I wore. Bow Tie is the bow toast of the Tie Room at this moment, since it has managed to be posted twice in one week.
Anyhoo, Bow Tie has a bow-tied black lab, wearing bunny ears. It’s surrounded by grass, tulips, chicks, and colored Easter eggs. It’s a mighty fine bow tie, from “my” bow tie manufacturer in Vermont– Beau Ties Limited. I don’t actually  own the company, but I do keep them in business.
Yes, it’s true. Skitter and I spend our days sitting around the townhouse wearing her Tie/Bow Tie o’ the Day collars and her cowboy hats. It’s what we do, and it’s why we make the bigly bucks.
Easter Bow Tie o’ the Day and I headed south to BYUville for church at Bishop Trav’s ward. I didn’t have an Easter bonnet or I certainly would have worn it. Here, Bow Tie and I are with two of the strongest, most incredible, most beautiful women I have been blessed to have in my family: Travis’ wife, Bishopette Collette; and Bishop Travis’ mom, my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless. (If you value my life, not only do you NOT know my sister’s name– you didn’t see her in this photo either.)
Three nearly identical snapshots of Skitter in her Bow Tie o’ the Day is three times as good as one snapshot. Skitter was especially excited to be in the pix because today is National Piñata Day. She even had a nap in her sombrero this afternoon. After she eats dinner, we’re gonna take that colorful stick and beat the stuffin’ out of our taco piñata. I hope Skitter isn’t disappointed when tacos don’t fall out. I also hope I’m not disappointed when tacos don’t fall out.
[Yeah, I’m still working on my TMS-and-me post. I keep adding to it. It’s still coming.]
Mustache Bow Tie o’ the Day. Sasquatch Socks o’ the Day. And animal print Sloggers o’ the Day. The Hairs o’ the Day are doing the front-ponytail-through-a-backwards-baseball-cap thing.
[I haven’t quite finished writing the post I promised yesterday, about why TMS treatments are a good choice for me. It is coming.]
M & M’s Bow Tie o’ the Day knows as well as anyone that a trip to see Mom at Millard Care and Rehab is a trip for Suzanne to see the other Mom also, as in MOM’S CRAFTS. Yup, Deltatucky is a two-mom town for Suzanne. I hang with Mom. Suzanne hangs with Mom AND the Mother of All Fabric Stores.
M & M’s Bow Tie also reminded me to deliver a very important gift for Mom. You see, every Easter season, when all the malted milk ball eggs show up in the stores, and the Peeps take their place alongside them in the Easter candy aisle, I buy Mom a bag of spiced jelly bean eggs. This year, when I thought about getting them for her, I figured I should skip it– since her blood sugar has been fiendishly high. I hoped she wouldn’t think about them this year. When I went to visit Mom a month ago, all she could talk about was the bag of spiced jelly beans I didn’t show up with. I wasn’t going to let that happen again, so on my last visit– a couple of weeks ago– I made triple-sure I delivered a bag o’ spiced jelly beans to her bedside.
Should I have given her such a sugary treat? Not really. But Mom is 88. She knows all about her high blood sugar. If she wants to risk eating a bag of Brach’s Spiced Jelly Beans so badly, she’s going to get ’em from me. I might be 55, but I am still Mom’s baby– and I do not say NO to my mother. Never have. Never will. My job is to spoil Mom. And I’m telling you right now: If Mom wants a six-pack of Budweiser to drink, a pipe to smoke, and a tin of Copenhagen to chew ‘n’ spit, I will get them for her. I will even barricade her door at MCR while she partakes of her vices, so she won’t get caught by her “guards” while she’s being bad.
BTW Â When I was at MCR last time, I left Skitter with Mom in her room while I talked with a couple of family members in the hall near the facility’s entrance. Well, out of nowhere, here comes my pal, Katie, who takes such good care of Mom at MCR. Katie took one look at me and immediately said, “Oh, didn’t Skitter come down with you today?” I told her Skitter was in with Mom. And, without one more word to me, off Katie went to check it out I guess. Apparently, Katie was done with me. So I went back to the conversation I had been having with my people. Later, I looked for Katie throughout the day, but I couldn’t find her again before Suzanne and Skitter and I had to head back to the bigly city. I have always joked that it’s Skitter who MCR really likes to see show up, not me at all. Now– thanks to Katie– I know it’s not a joke. It’s true. Skitter is my ticket in. As long as I have her, I’ll be welcome at MCR. I hope.
[Note to Katie: I’m exaggerating that tiny story bigly, for the purpose of increasing chuckles. But I really did try to find you, and couldn’t.]
FYI Â Yes, that’s Suzanne in one of the photos, showing Mom my purse. My purse gets around. I wonder if it “sleeps around,” as well.
Bow Tie o’ the Day “enjoyed” a round of electromagnetically attacking my Brain o’ the Day. 6 Down, 30 to go. I will make it. My skull might not, but I will.
Here I am with the electromagnetic coil stuck against my head. It looks like an innocent reading lamp, which it is certainly not. Each daily treatment lasts only twenty minutes, which doesn’t seem like a long time– until you understand it’s twenty minutes of painful pulses almost continually bombarding your noggin. I get a few seconds of rapidly repeating shocks, followed by fewer seconds of PAUSE, then back to the pulses, and so on. When the coil sends the shocks through my skull, it sounds exactly like a sewing machine needle going up and down. It feels like it too. See, you learn something from my posts every day.
And here are my Sloggers ankle-boots. I only have one pair. I’m not really an ankle-boot garden shoe kind of girl, I guess. Y’all seem to like my Sloggers, so I’ll show ’em to ya. I don’t know if any of my Sloggers like my treatments, but they’re going with me anyway. They can stare at my purse with me for twenty minutes.
Tiny Bow Tie o’ the Day believes, like I do, that one of the fantastic things about having a bigly extended family and a gaggle of friends is that there is almost always a baby soon to be born. We’ve got infants on the way from all directions right now.
For the brand, spankin’ new babies and their parents, we always put together pretty much the same gift cornucopia to present to the new bambino. It’s stuff they will need. Suzanne’s special contribution to our diapers-and-wipes-and-bibs-filled offering is a pile of baby blankets she creates. She does not believe a baby needs only one of her blankets. And she is right. Any baby who receives many Suzanne-made blankets is guaranteed to be a happy baby.
My special contribution to the baby’s gift bundle is buying the diaper rash-slaying Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. With a baby product name like that, you know it’s exactly the kind of thing my eccentric self must give a newborn. Diaper rash is not pleasant. At least as far as Butt Paste is concerned, somebody can get a minor giggle out of using it.
But I am here to caution you: Do not confuse Boudreaux’s Butt Paste with Rub Some Butt bbq seasoning. Do not mistakenly put the Rub Some Butt in the baby’s room, while also mistakenly putting the Butt Paste in the pantry. That would be a tragedy. Look at the labels closely, folks. Like the television ads told us in the 70’s, reading is fundamental.
These Bow Tie o’ the Day photos have been waiting to have their debut for a couple of weeks now. I refuse to keep them from their public any longer.
The P!NK concert in SLC was incredible, as any P!NK show will be. In the photo of the stage, she’s wearing black, up in the chandelier. And look! My purse had its own seat, as well as its own Diet Coke for the performance– at least when Suzanne went off to the potty room. The purse boogied and sang with us all evening. You know what’s really sad about that? My purse can carry a tune better than I can.
I gussied up in a gold-flecked, diamond-point Bow Tie o’ the Day for this morning’s TMS treatment. Suzanne accompanied me this time. Not only was she curious about what the sessions are actually like, she needed to see for herself that the medical professionals at UNI aren’t torturing me. She came away from the experience reassured and feeling I’m well cared for there– especially by my TMS nurse, who routinely declares she digs my bow ties, my fashion, AND my purse. 4 treatments down, 32 to go.
During today’s TMS, Suzanne sat where my saddle purse usually sits when I’m reclined for treatment. It’s the chair that gives me the best view of the purse while I’m being electromagnetically zapped in the head. I made Suzanne hold it on her lap, so I could keep an eye on them both. It was comforting to see them there being my audience watching me twitch and wince while I wore my beanie and earplugs. But mostly, it was comforting to know they were protecting each other from being pilfered by any possible evil clinic passers-by. I absolutely must not lose either one of them. As far as I know there is no Lost and Found for saddle purses and Suzanne’s.
