Category: Stories

Posted on

Two More Bigly Magical Events

Bow Ties o’ Two Events got almost no attention. That fact didn’t deepen my depression, cuz all eyes were on the miracle we call Grace Anne Blackwelder, and that’s a bunch of joy as far as I’m concerned. Last week’s happenings were all about crossing T’s and dotting I’s, and about holy ordinances too.

Tuesday found the Blackwelder family and their fan club in a courtroom, where Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette were crowned the legal parents of Princess Grace. The adoption is final. Whew! And I say AMEN to that. (I wore my Christmas scottie dogs Bow Tie o’ the Day to the court affair.)

So many folks who love Gracie and her parents were there at the courthouse that I didn’t even get a turn to hold her and take a bow-tied selfie of us. There was a time or two when I considered stealing Grace Anne from Travis’ mom, my SWWTRN, but I didn’t want to break the spell she’s under when she’s holding her only grandchild. I also value my limbs, so I thought it best not to disturb a grandma being a grandma.

And the second magic event? On Saturday, most of the same family/friend characters gathered at the Provo City Center Temple, where Gracie was sealed to her parents— the richly blessed Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette. This couple counts their blessings fervently. They are grateful for the wee one they’ve been given, as are we all. One day, Gracie will surely know how blessed she is to belong to her parents. Actually, Gracie is brilliant and probably already knows she’s hit the parent jackpot.

For the second time in a week, though, I didn’t get my turn to hold baby Grace. I’m not worried. I’ll get my many turns to hog her. But outside the Temple doors, I witnessed a Mom & Dad and Grace Anne Blackwelder family photo session for all our phone cameras. It was love, and I was happy to watch it play out.

FYI I’m having issues with downloading and editing photos on the website. Sorry for the photos not sitting in the upright position. I’ll find a fix for them ASAP.

Posted on

And The Winner Is…

The voting is done. The results are in. And this holiday season, instead of wearing/presenting every piece of holiday neckwear I own, I will be selecting one to wear per post. That means you will not be seeing the entirety of my Christmas collection this year. Think of it as me presenting my Greatest X-mas Tie Hits.

I’ve never not worn every piece before, so this will be a weird holiday season for me. It will be much less work for me though. And Suzanne will be happy cuz there will be fewer clumps o’ ties grouped around the house, waiting for their turn to be posed and photographed. She’ll also like that I’ll be able to set up TIE O’ THE DAY snapshots much more quickly than in past ho-ho-ho seasons. I know you will find it hard to believe, but the truth is that I can get carried away with both neckwear and writing. Put the two together, and there goes the whole day! Add Christmas season to those two things, and there goes the night too!

I must hang my head about something though. I almost lied to y’all. I thought of mis-representing the vote results and just saying most of the votes were for my wearing every last seasonal neckwear piece. Why would I feel like I should lie? Because of Joyce Moody, rebel that she is. She voted for me to wear the entire holiday collection. And hers was even the first vote— like, the second after I opened up the voting, Joyce voted to see ’em all. A lot of people voted for that, though not a majority. But it’s Joyce Moody, for golly sakes! Clearly, I would lie for Joyce. Almost. Disappointing Joyce is something which has never been anywhere close to my Bucket List.

If I remember correctly, Joyce was one of my Mutual teachers. (It could have been Sunday School, but I’m pretty sure it was Mutual.) I was probably 16 or so, and let me explain about me in high school. I didn’t wear make-up (never have), and I spent most of my time in overalls or 501’s— certainly not in a dress, if I could help it. Trust me, most of the authorities—female and male— in my life at the time were telling me to be a “real girl.” Apparently, what would have made me into a “real girl” would have been to wear make-up and dresses, and blow dry my hair into Farah Fawcett feathers. The message which I consistently got from people was that I was not enough, just being myself. Being me was not good enough. I certainly wasn’t a “real girl.” I wasn’t presentable without a coat of paint and curling iron burns on my head. Even when nothing was said to me, I saw the thumbs-down expressions of others’ faces when I’d walk into any room at school or church.

But I’d show up at Mutual in my overalls, and Joyce Moody always smiled at me like I was PERFECT. Like I was VALUABLE. Like I was IMPORTANT. Like I was ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD. She probably saved my life. See why I considered lying about the Christmas neckwear vote, so Joyce Moody can get what she wants?

Anyhoo… Next year there will be no vote. Joyce wins already, and I’ll be wearing 300+ pieces of festive neckwear from Thanksgiving 2020 to New Year’s Day 2021 .

Posted on

Skitter Didn’t Last At The Vet’s Even Until Noon

Tie o’ the Day— our second holiday necktie of 2019— had to be covered in Christmas kitties, to match this morning’s Christmas mutts tie. I’ll have an announcement tomorrow about my wearin’ o’ the Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa neckwear. The vote between “to wear ’em all” or “not to wear ’em all” was surprisingly close. Stay tuned.

In this morning’s post, I told you Skitter was having her teeth cleaned at the vet’s at 7:30 AM. I further told you that the skittish Skitter can’t handle being at the vet’s unless she’s under anesthesia, or is otherwise unconscious. She shakes so ferociously the animal hospital nearly crumbles.

I also told you that the vet techs always say I can’t pick up The Skit until 3PM, cuz they wanna watch her recover for a few hours from whatever procedure she’s just had. But they always end up calling me to pick her up much earlier— because they cannot stand to see Skitter shiver in fear for that long. I told y’all I figured I would get a call from the vet to come retrieve her around noon. Guess what time I got the frantic call this morning? It’s a new scared-Skitter-at-the-vet record: 10:46 AM. I had Skitter home and being blatantly miffed at me by 11.

Skitter’s still not quite herself, and I imagine it will take until at least tomorrow before she forgives me for taking her to get her teeth cleaned (and one hideous fang pulled). She’s being kinda whimpery. But it’s really her own fault. If she’d brush her teeth and floss regularly, I wouldn’t have to make major doggie dental appointments for her a couple of times a year.

Posted on

Today Is Yet Another Vet Day

The year’s first official Holiday Tie o’ the Day was easy for me to choose this morning, cuz I had to deliver Skitter to the vet for her scary teeth-cleaning appointment at 7:30 AM. When I dragged her into the vet office, the vet tech said I will be able to pick Skitter up at 3 PM. It was a new vet tech, who doesn’t know what I know has happened after Skitter’s past fang cleanings. The moment Skitter rouses from her dental procedure sleep, her trembling begins. Her shaking grows and grows and grows, until the vet office begins to vibrate. And although the vet tech told me to pick her up at 3, I can guarantee that around about noon, the same vet tech will give me a call to come and get Skitter ASAP. In a panicky voice, the vet tech will tell me the vet thinks Skitter will be better off recovering at home. Duh!

Posted on

One Of Those “Best. Day. Ever.” Days

Yesterday, I had an incredible, yet incredibly simple, day. I had the kind of adventure that cost me nothing more than a tank o’ gas and the effort it took to get dressed. In return, I got back a boatload of all the abstract specifics that I would call my core values. In what profound, exotic activity did I participate? I had a regular ol’ conversation with my oldest— but truly young-at-heart— sister, Mercedes. Some of you readers know her as Betty, or Betty Rae, or BT. But to me, she’s Mercedes. She is my own, personal Mercedes.

Mercedes has lived in Pleasant View since the late 60’s when she hitched up with the jolly Nuk. PV is only thirty-five minutes away from my place, yet somehow, we don’t see each other as often as I’d like. We mean to see each other. I mean— it’s not like each of us is boycotting the other. We get along famously. She was literally the first TIE O’ THE DAY reader. Mercedes was my first tbloglodyte, way back when TO’TD was simply a text and a pic of a shirt and tie. That was also back when TIE O’ THE DAY showed only one tie per one day.

Yesterday, I showed up at Mercedes’ basement door with a bag o’ books to share. A bag of books is like a hostess gift between us. We trade books back and forth. Some guests might show up to a get-together, lugging a plate of cookies or a bottle of wine as a “thank you” to the host. We do books. We don’t mind trading underlined, highlighted, margin-noted books if need be. The markings give us further insights into each other. “Why did she highlight that paragraph? Why did she underline that word twice? I’ve gotta ask her about that.”

Anyhoo… We sat in Mercedes’ pleasantly dark basement where she has been working this week. She met The Saddle Purse and my Frida Kahlo cape in person for the first time. We talked family, religion, politics, you name it. And we are always able to respectfully discuss these dicey topics, without bullying and/or closed ears. I come away from our conversations feeling nourished and more knowledgeable than I was when we started.

Do you know what I didn’t do while I was talking to Mercedes? I didn’t worry about snapping pix for a TIE O’ THE DAY post. A post picture wasn’t the most important thing. I was totally focused on having a funny and meaty conversation with my bigliest sister. Enjoy my stick-figure-on-a-sticky-note re-creation of my happy day.

I did wear my wood, glasses Bow Tie o’ the Day for my visit with Mercedes— just in case you wondered.

Posted on

Monotonous Skitter

Skitter was chilly this Halloween morn, so she chose to wear her red plaid Bow Tie o’ the Day. I told her she could choose her own Halloween costume, and she said she wanted to be an order of McDonald’s french fries again this year. What Skitter apparently doesn’t want to be is awake.

Posted on

Tidying My Files O’ Miscellany

I’ve never had to look at a calendar to know when Halloween season is due to arrive. Nope. I just pay attention to Mom. When Helen Sr. is sharpening her broom, Halloween is nigh. She’ll tell you herself that she is every bit the witch she says Dad always told her she was. Mom certainly had him bewitched.

Here are a few photos left over from my month of October, in no particular order. 1. In celebration of National Candy Corn Day, Candy Cane Bow Tie On A Shelf o’ the Day took a wild ride on The Saddle Purse this afternoon. 2. I ate a taste-astic steak at MARTYRS STEAKHOUSE in Taos. 3. I did not buy either of the arty wood fish on this gallery wall in Taos, but I got oodles of compliments on the autumn-hued Bow Tie o’ the Day I was wearing. 4.,5. Fall colors and fall light blasted at me from the foliage behind our house when we got home from Taos.

Tonight, don’t eat the rest of the Halloween candy you haven’t already eaten. Tomorrow is the bigly day kids will be coming for it. Do not disappoint children and dentists.

Posted on

Got Art?

Hey, don’t forget today is National Candy Corn Day. Munch on, folks!

I found a hefty package sitting on my porch, and I knew it was the painting Suzanne bought for me when I found it in a gallery in Taos. I wanted to tear the package apart immediately, but I didn’t. Suzanne was at work, and I knew she’d want to be home when I opened my package. And then I realized that it would make Suzanne even happier if I let her open it for me. She likes to open gift. So I tied down my excitement for the rest of the day, but was often tempted to just open the damn thing myself. Of course, Suzanne worked late. I was dying a cruel death, as the painting lay inside its packaging mocking me from across the living room. Finally, I moved it into the closet with the hope Suzanne would be home oh, so very soon to open it up.

And then, when Suzanne finally got home, she tortured me further by opening my gift as slowly as possible. She enjoyed herself immensely. And Candy Corn Bow Tie On A Shelf o’ the Day supervised every minute of it.

I looked at hundreds of paintings in Taos, but this one entranced me. I wanted it to live with me until I die. There’s no explaining why a piece of art speaks so loudly to a soul. But if it does, it does. This one did. It is called “Blue House by the Golden Gate.” The pink and yellow remind me of spectacular Delta sunsets.

The artist, Pat Woodall, was working in his gallery where we found this. When he saw which painting I chose to own, he looked at me in whatever loud duds I was wearing, and then back at the painting, and said to me, “You’re not afraid of color.” Nope. Color does not frighten me one iota.

Posted on

Gettin’ Hairs Cut

We had big plans for last Saturday night, but we needed our hairs cut before we went out. I donned my hairscuttin’ scissors Bow Tie o’ the Day, and off Suzanne and I went to Great Clips Saturday afternoon, to have our hairs hacked off by the wondrous and skillful Miss Tiffany. I put Suzanne in charge of directing Miss Tiffany in the cutting of my mop, and she was excited about that. Suzanne was very adamant about how she wanted each of my hairs, so Miss Tiffany got to see a bossy side of Suzanne she had never seen before.

I was kinda surprised Suzanne ordered the construction of what is basically one of my fave, go-to asymmetrical cuts. She says it’s one of her faves on me, so that works out dandy for both of us— since we’re the only people who have to spend a great deal of time being in the same vicinity as my hairs.

Of course, y’all have to see my hairs in posts daily, so sorry about that if you aren’t a fan of my half-bald head. But it could be worse: I could try to grow it out again. Be grateful every day that I won’t put any of us through that disaster again.

Posted on

Adobe Houses Galore

Just outside of Taos is Taos Pueblo. It is a community of about 150 of the 1200 Taos Indian Reservation residents. They live in stacked, adobe apartment-like homes, some of which have existed since the 1200’s. The stacked homes are accessible only by ladder, and none of the homes have running water or electricity. Some of the adobe structures are shops in which the resident’s Native American wares, jewelry, art, and food is for sale.

Bow Tie o’ the Day I was wearing when we visited Taos Pueblo and Bow Tie On A Shelf o’ the Day were impressed with the entire Taos Pueblo set-up. Suzanne was impressed with the jewelry she found there. And yes, she found two more necklaces for me to buy her.

The Taos-area landscape was not in-your-face pretty. It wasn’t much to look at initially. I say this with love, but it looked a lot like Fillmore and Delta. It had the same dreamy sky, because it had the same flat desert landscape. Taos is close to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, although not as close to the mountains as we thought it would be. The skiing at Taos Ski Valley is said to be as “reverential” an experience as Utah’s bigly skiing provides.

In fact, Taos reminded Suzanne and I both of Park City, but all sprawled out and in its 1970’s unkept, un-yuppified condition. We had a swell time, but the town itself seemed kinda grungey and— in my way of saying it— fall-y apart-y. We ate out only twice, cuz most restaurants we saw gave me a grime vibe. The places where we did actually eat served up darn tasty food, but I’m glad we had a decent kitchen in the condo. I’m sure there are good places to eat in Taos, but we didn’t run across more than a couple of them in the short time we were there.

Taos Pueblo is worth visiting if you’re into that sort of thing. And I would go back just to take another gander at the Rio Grande Gorge. Mostly, if you are art-minded, Taos is a place for you to spend time. I think I’d like to return to see it in winter. Snow turns every place into a different place, if you know what I mean.