I chose to go with a Santa hat theme this morning, for two Bow Ties o’ the Day and four Ties o’ the Day. One bow tie gives us Jerry Garcia, while the other gives us Billy Bob Thornton as Bad Santa. The green tie displays regular old Santa himself. The blue tie presents whales decked out in their Santa hattery, while the black tie under it showcases Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Front and center, as Santa-hatted as the rest of our characters, is the infamous emoji poop, offering us all “Warm Wishes.” Ewww. I mean—Season’s Greetings a bit early, y’all!
Come with me now as I dive into the deep ocean of the holiday season’s neckwear with these 3 jolly kids’ Ties o’ the Day and 1 Christmas emoji Tie o’ the Day. My fave emoji on Tie is the smiling peppermint poop. But I’m sure you already guessed that.
Be-tied by only 4 of the little critters, I’m starting small—patiently working out my tie muscles gradually, so I can get strong enough to do the heavy lifting of the leftover holiday ties at the end of December. I might be my own superhero, but even I have to work my way up to some things. I know better than to wear 15 ties simultaneously right out of the gate and risk tearing my tie tendons right off my bones. Ain’t nobody got time for that! Especially in a pandemic.
TIE O’ THE DAY sends a bigly Merry Birthday greeting to Suzanne’s mom, Geraldine. She turned 80 a few days ago. As my family did with Mom’s 90th birthday in September, Suzanne’s family kept it safe: no party. Instead, we all secretly grooved-up our cars and created a surprise birthday parade for the Mrs. Claus look-alike, right in front of her house. Our decorated cars circled the block twice, horns honking, probably annoying the neighborhood with our celebratory exuberance. After our second lap, we halted our parade in front of the house, got out of our cars, and sang “Happy Birthday” to Geri. To be honest, I only whisper-sang. I love Geri far too much to belt out a song at her with my questionable voice, even as part of a chorus—especially on her 80th birthday.
I’ve been trying to remember my first interaction with Suzanne’s mom, and my brain can trace it to 1985, when I couldn’t afford a haircut. Suzanne offered up her mom’s services, and Geri cut my head hairs as I sat on a chair behind their former house.
Mom has always said that she was blessed to have two wonderful mothers in her life: her own, and her mother-in-law. I knew what she meant, but I didn’t fully understand it in my heart until I got Geri.
BTW Please note that Skitter wore her tie for the parade. Look closely, and you’ll see her and her Tie o’ the Day in the car.
And Tie o’ the Day and I continue to flip from news channel to news channel, so I can hear a multitude of commentaries about the current state o’ the vote-counting. Here’s my analysis: Some television talking heads do not reside anywhere near a place called Logic-ville. I’m interested in those takes too, though. Seriously, I am intrigued by why people think what they think—no matter how near or far from Logic-ville they take off their boots. I like to listen to the journey their reasoning takes to get them to where they are, in terms of their political bent. I said it in slightly different words yesterday: I am a political nerd. But I am a political nerd in a tie.
I’ve been working on a secret thing that I can’t talk about until tomorrow. Rest assured it has nothing to do with the election. It is difficult for me to get the election off my mind, even so. When my brain implodes due to all the political noise, I go silent. I do. I shut up. Tie o’ the Day and masked Face Mask o’ the Day, however, are always there to do my talking for me. They express my Election Eve feelings so very well. 😱
Tie o’ the Day and I will wear anything (almost) at any time (almost). It’s sort of my job to do so. The clashier, the better. The more you-can’t-look-away-even-though-it-kinda-freaks-out-your-eyes, the better. I know I’m dressed like my true self if my attire incites at least one of two things: a chuckle, and/or a conversation—even if the conversation is with yourself. I am ecstatic when both goals are met in a tblog post, simultaneously. That’s why I make the bigly bucks, folks. I am really just a very uncomplicated, complicated chick with a brimming Tie Room.
Yup, I’m still in my pajamas. Still recuperating from being old, or whatever condition I’m in. I’ve been napping around the living room today, going from couch to love seat, then back again. I’ve been quite boring to myself and Skitter. I’m just so bloody tired. I fall asleep at the drop of a hat, or the drop of a tie. Full disclosure: I did walk upstairs to the Tie Room once to grab my afternoon post accessories. Different Hat o’ the Day. Different Tie o’ the Day. Different Face Mask o’ the Day. I wouldn’t want to wear the exact same outfit in two different posts—ever. I do, however, stand by repeating the words on my mask. We should be nice humans to other humans, over and over again, every day. That Masked Message goes with any outfit I could ever possibly dream up.
When I tell y’all about my aches and pains—whether mental or physical, I am not in search of a pity party. I am not saying, “woe is me.” I just tell you what’s up with me and the residents of the Tie Room. And what’s up is that yesterday I woke up feeling like I’d been run over by a golf cart. My head ached, and I never get headaches. My whole body ached. It felt like a belt was tightening around my ribs. Even my Spock ear hurt. The bottoms of my feet kept cramping. I am the whitest person on the planet, but yesterday I was whiter than that. I made a bed on the couch, which I haven’t done since right after I was recovering from my Hanky Panky decapitation surgery. That’s been two years now.
I had my flu shot a few weeks ago, so I figured it wasn’t the flu. I could tell Suzanne was worried about me because she called me from work, via FaceTime, to ask me all kinds of questions about which of the COVID-19 symptoms I might be feeling. You have to understand that when Suzanne is at work, Suzanne is at work. She doesn’t know home exists. That is not a criticism, it is just a slight exaggeration. I am simply making the point that Suzanne was worried about me. She doesn’t text, call, or Face Time me from work unless there is a bigly problem. Yesterday morning, I guess she considered my health a bigly problem. She even ordered me not to die.
Anyhoo… I answered Suzanne’s questions about any possible COVID-19 symptoms I might be having. Suzanne said the questionnaire she was reading from said, based on my answers, I should go to urgent care. I don’t know everything, but I sort of know my body, and I highly doubt COVID-19 is the culprit. Nevertheless, I promised Suzanne if I didn’t feel better the next morning (today), I would hop, skip, and jump to the urgent care clinic to be tested.
Well, I woke up this morning feeling just enough better that I doubt I’ll be going for a COVID-19 test in the immediate future. My head still hurts, but not as much. My feet are still cramping up weirdly, but not as much. My chest is feeling bear-hugged too tightly, but not as tightly as it felt yesterday. I am still whiter than my usual whitest-person-on-the-planet pallor, but I’m not as white as I was yesterday.
I’m starting to think there is such a thing as “aging pains.” I remember having growing pains in my legs when I was about 10, and Mom rubbed them down with alcohol so I could fall asleep at night. Those kinds of pains mysteriously came and went for a couple of years. Just as mysteriously, I think I’m starting to have the opposite kind of pains: those growing old pains. Some days an arbitrary pain, ache, or twitch shows up and sticks around for a few hours or a few days, then it’s just as mysteriously gone. I will always be fish-belly white, but my aging pains will surely come and go. No worries here.
Skitter and I click. From the first time we met at the dog rescue in December of 2013, Skitter and I felt a kinship with each other’s peculiarities. I think we must have recognized each other’s raggedy edges. Her previous mistreatment and my constant bipolar rapids somehow recognized each other, and we formed a connection that has functioned to the betterment of both of us. Suzanne and Rowan recognized it happen that day too. That’s a sweet and sappy story, but it’s also true. Today, however, actual mind-reading was involved going on between The Skit and I.
While I was filling up the recycling can, I got a song stuck in my head. I could not shut it off. And it was completely out of nowhere. Worse, it was a smarmy tune from the 70’s! It was Debby Boone’s “You Light Up My Life.” I haven’t heard or thought of the song in decades. I stood staring into the recycling can, trying to figure out what was in there that could have possibly set off that song in my mind. There was nothing I could see. I left the garage and went upstairs to wash a load of face masks for the week, and that song kept playing in my head. I turned on other music to drown it out, but no—my life was still getting lit up by Debby Boone’s voice between my ears, over and over. Aaaaaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhhh! It was becoming painful to my brain. I thought: How can the repetition of such a syrupy sweet song cause an amount of irritation which makes me want to wretch and say swear words at the same time?
I went downstairs and poured myself a stiff drink of watermelon-flavored sparkling water, then sat down by Skitter, who had been nowhere around me and my house chores. Skitter—as you can see here—had clearly used her telepathic powers to hear the song that was stuck in my head, and she had tried to rescue me by wrapping herself in the candy corn Halloween lights to send me a message: I light up her life. It, of course, caused me to laugh so hard I forgot all about the stoopid Debby Boone song. Skitter and I have been singing new Bruce Springsteen songs together ever since the dastardly Debby Boone tune flew the proverbial coop of my noggin.
BTW I’m not sure if that was a tall tale or a tall “tail.” I guess it depends on whether I wrote it or Skitter did.
October is not just the month of Halloween celebrations, whose basic colors are black and orange. We know it is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month, whose symbolic color is pink. October is also Domestic Violence Awareness Month, symbolized by the color purple. With that in mind, Skitter and I don some of our purple today to tell you about something called the PURPLE LEASH PROJECT. A huge number of domestic violence victims who have pets say a major reason they don’t leave an abusive situation is because their pets aren’t allowed to stay with them in domestic violence shelters. The PURPLE LEASH PROJECT is trying to help people and pets stay together to heal, by working to create more pet-friendly domestic violence shelters across the country. If you want to know more about how to help the situation, please visit PurpleLeashProject.com
TIE O’ THE DAY hopes you will reach out every day to do good in the world, in any way you can—for any causes that matter to you.
