I chose an ice cream bar Bow Tie o’ the Day for our first foray into downtown Nashville. We were touristing in the guts of the city, and I asked Suzanne if there was anything special she wanted to do while we were there. She wanted to go to the symphony.
There’s a plethora of music to be had in Nashville, as we all know. Leave it to Suzanne to have read something about the Nashville Symphony throwing Beethoven a birthday party when we were in town, by performing some of his works. So the first thing we did was score a couple of tickets for a symphonic performance later in the week. For the life of me, I don’t know what got into Suzanne because I can’t drag her to the symphony at home. But we set foot in Nashville for 15 seconds, and suddenly Suzanne was symphony-hungry.
For our evening at the Nashville Symphony, I donned a paw print Bow Tie o’ the Day. It seems I was missing Skitter beyond all reason that day. I knew darn well she was happy being spoiled with a week-long sleeping party at our house with Suzanne’s sister, Marjorie. Still, I missed her, and I knew she would have enjoyed the symphony. Skitter is a devoted listener to all kinds of music, and Beethoven is right up there on Skitter’s List O’ Astounding Composers—right up there with Philip Glass and Lawrence Welk.
We vacationed in Nashville for the express purpose of attending a LUMINEERS concert. Their tour schedule didn’t show any indications they would be playing in Salt Lake City, so we decided we’d head somewhere else they were playing. We figured we’d see them at their Nashville stop. Plans were made. Flights were scheduled. A car was rented.
And then… About two weeks before our trip, it was announced that the LUMINEERS would be playing in Salt Lake City in August. Were we upset we were about to spend a bunch o’ bucks on our trip to see them in Nashville, when we can see them here in a few months? Heck, no! It just means we can can see them twice.
Wood spectacles Bow Tie o’ the Day had a fantastic night checking out the concert. Seeing the LUMINEERS twice still won’t be enough for us.
I donned my wood guitar Bow Tie o’ the Day for our outing to Nashville’s Fisk University yesterday—our last stop before heading to the airport for our flight home to SLC last night.
I am sad to report that this is the last photo ever to be taken of me in my bow tie beanie. A heady tragedy happened soon after our foray at Fisk U. Somewhere at the Nashville airport, between dropping off the rental car and walking to the terminal, my hat went missing. Was it pilfered by a jealous criminal with a penchant for bow ties? Did it run away to join the bow tie circus? Did I carelessly drop it from my too full clutches? I dunno. I just know it’s gone for good, and I shall never wear it again. Because of that, I am in mourning. And I also wish my bow tie beanie well, as it begins its new life as an orphan in Tennessee.
TIE O’ THE DAY presents a few sundry items I’ve run across here in Nashville: 1. A cleverly named wine I didn’t purchase. 2. A beckoning sidewalk sign I didn’t believe. 3. A pair of socks I didn’t purchase, but whose sentiment I definitely do agree with.
Lipstick note Tie o’ the Day sets out early to remind you of the lost art of writing love notes. You have to go Old School, folks. Don’t do all that sweet talk through emails or texts. That will not suffice. Find the pencil in your junk drawer. And even though it’s broken in half, has no eraser, and the point is broken off, sharpen that pencil. Use the sorta broken pocketknife that’s also in your junk drawer to whittle it to a proper point. I bet there’s an old receipt or envelope in the junk drawer too, the backs of which have plenty of room for writin’. Scribble out a sincere, handwritten love note. Your person will thank Tie and you bigly that you took the time to write a love note the old-fashioned way. 💌 ❣ 💝💘
I sported my Valentine bear Tie o’ the Day to visit my ear doctor to get my hearing aid tuned up. He changed some filters and adjusted some other hearing aid innards. I don’t know that his work really helped much more than just the tiniest bit. My right ear is on its last leg, and my left ear registers only tinnitus. My hearing is hopeless.
At least I got to stand in front of a poster of an ear and see how I would look if I had an enormous right ear. While my doc was tinkering with my ear gadget, I tried to decipher some of the autographs on my doc’s prized JAZZ basketball. I check it out at every appointment, and I still can’t figure out whose autograph is whose.
If you wanna speak to me and make sure I hear you these days, you probably oughta use at least a cheerleader megaphone, pointed directly at one of my ears—while standing as near to me as you possibly can. I CAN’T HEAR YOU NOW!
I know it’s just my age being age-y, so I’m not really complaining about the normal breaking down of eardrums. It is what it is, as we say. But I am also complaining a bit because I’m having to do a lot of nodding and acting like I know what’s going on around me, when I can’t hear anything but a bloody mumble from anyone. I play like I’ve heard and understood because I do not want to annoy people by asking them to repeat and repeat and repeat what they’ve taken the time to say to me. I trust that Suzanne will drag me aside and loudly alert me if someone says something I absolutely must know. If you hear her yelling at me, don’t be alarmed. We’re fine. She’s just translating for me.
[This is a re-post of a popular tale from August 2018—about three weeks after my Hanky Panky surgery. I was recuperating, mostly by not-lifting things around the house, on Suzanne’s orders. Enjoy.]
Bow Ties o’ the Day had a fantastic time at Cafe Niche for Sunday brunch. As you can see, Suzanne wanted to get in on the bow tie act. We donned our bow tie bibs for the feast because we were famished, and we were afraid we might eat sloppily. The bow ties on each bib did a perfect job of keeping our clothing from being defaced by our lack of delicate eating. And bigly Bow Tie o’ the Day presents its grapes– Mormon grapes for Sunday, I’m sure.
Brunch can have a calming effect. I recommend it when you’re stressed out or tense. Suzanne and I stressed ourselves out by having a little tiff last night— over nothing of any real importance. But the tiff happened, and the tiff went on in silence, right on into this morning.
In the middle of the night when I had to potty, I ended up using the last few squares on the toilet paper roll. There was a new roll on the bathroom vanity, three inches from the tp holder. Normally, of course, I’d change out the empty roll—no matter what time of the middle of the night it was. But I was still miffed about the tiff, and there was no way in heck I was gonna politely take the old roll off and put the new one on. Nope. Suzanne was gonna have to do it herself the next time she needed to potty. (That’ll teach her!) And do you know what I thought in my tiff-miffed head as I walked back to bed? I thought with great sarcasm, “Well, she told me I wasn’t allowed to lift anything, and I’m sure that includes a roll of toilet paper.” And I sooo wanted her to say something to me about the empty toilet paper roll incident this morning, so I could say the same snotty thing right to her precious face. But she said nothing about it. And then we went to brunch, and everything got forgiven and forgotten.
Bow Tie o’ the Day’s fabric shows off pavers, which is why it is named PAVERLY by my go-to bow tie manufacturer—Beau Ties of Vermont. I decided it was a fitting choice for this outing because pavers can be used to create a path that can be traveled more easily, more beautifully, and safer than before the pavers were set down. Suzanne and I were at Utah Valley University last week to attend an event about some of the Utah women who paved—and continue to pave— their own roads, to everybody’s benefit.
The presentation was called CELEBRATING UTAH WOMEN: REMEMBERING THE PAST TO SHAPE THE FUTURE. Mom would have enjoyed the speakers. She has always emphatically said, “We need more women in charge of things!!!!! They see the big picture!!!!!” (Yes, she says it with that many exclamation points.) To which I usually say, “Gee, Mom. Tell us what you really think.” Mom’s opinions are not shy. They just show up and get right in your face, and you have to deal with ’em. I absolutely treasure Mom for that feistiness. That woman has blazed her own bigly trail, and more than a few of us have benefited from spending some time on it with her, when our own path was too much to handle at the time.
We can’t take the same exact path others have taken. We are, each of us, unique. Only your own trail will fit you. Our paths are not One Size Fits All. Your path is One Size Fits One. Of course, we will inevitably use each others’ paths on occasion. We can’t help it, cuz so much paving has already been done for us. And if someone ahead of us has blazed a fruitful and captivating path, we can take it and add our own detours which align with our individual destinations. We don’t have to lay every paver that ends up under our feet. Thank you, ancestors.
For example, I don’t have to fight to win the right to vote—even though I’m JUST a girl. A lot of somebodies already paved that trail for me. They “won” that right just for little ol’ me, so I don’t have to fight for it. Neither do you. I’ve got my right to vote, and with it comes a responsibility. To me, I am disrespectful of those who wrangled me that right if I don’t use it. And so I vote.
I am free to fight other fights that matter to me and the bigly planet. It’s my responsibility to fight those fights I can—most of which can be won by simple human kindness to/from all those involved. I am obligated to fight, and in so doing, change the world even the teensiest bit by setting down my own twisting and turning paver paths. Somebody is gonna need to use my road to make their own.
Whether you are aware of it or not, somebody’s always behind you on the path you pave. Actually, “multitudes” is probably closer to the count of those who look to you. Do you really want them to follow you? Are you comfortable with them seeing the road you’ve built? If you aren’t, you’ve done some evil paving, and you are running out of time to fix it. Get your tools out.
BTW The editor of THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE, Jennifer Napier-Pierce was a presenter at the event. I realized she had been a student in a writing class I taught at the U of U in the late 80’s. I must have been an incredible teacher, if she’s now the editor of a statewide newspaper.
Another BTW It is “true” that THE TRIB is the “evil” newspaper of the two major papers in Salt Lake City, so only apostates read it.😜 Still, Mom and Dad were forever what I call TRIBBERS, as am I.
I’m upset. I’m sad. I’m displeased with myself and with my primary bow tie supplier, Beau Ties of Vermont. I do not now, nor will I ever, own this Bow Tie o’ the Day. The company named it Buffina. I just think of it as The Mud Flap Chick.
The Mud Flap Chick bow tie was high on my list o’ neckwear prospects. It was a new product, so I figured I could put off ordering it until my Bee Pig piggy bank was full. There was no rush. Oh, yes, there was a rush! Out of nowhere, some doofus bought the bow tie company, and promptly ceased production of dozens of bow tie designs. The Mud Flap Chick was nixed. She exists no more. Golly, I already own Mud Flap Chick cufflinks and a Mud Flap Chick necktie. By not owning Buffina, my Mud Flap Chick-theme neckwear`collection is now and forever incomplete. It’s not fair.
The annihilation of Buffina is just so wrong. I cannot count the ways. All I am left with is this catalog picture of her, and my dead hope for The Mud Flap Chick bow tie to live among bowfriends in The Tie Room. I am overcome with disappointment. I shall weep and wail for the purchase I didn’t make in time. Yes, I shall wail for precisely 30 seconds, and then I shall put on my brave face and get on with my TIE O’ THE DAY life.
I should have seized the bow tie. Carpe bow tie-em!
Even for de-snowing Vonnegut Grace Vibe, I feel it’s only proper to wear a Bow Tie o’ the Day. I chose to wear my VW bugs and vans bow tie for the job. Skitter has a vet appointment later this morning, so I had to excavate through the snow to find the car windows. As for the 10 inches of snow on top of the car, I’m keeping it. Skitter and I shall drive to the vet in flat-top style.
