Category: Ties

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Duh! And Duh-er!

Skitter’s nose sticks out from under her blanket, which shields her from the cruel world.

I was working away upstairs in my Psycho Bunny-brand Tie o’ the Day this afternoon, just peacefully minding my own business. Okay, I admit I was singing too, which some will say is not a peaceful sound. Anyhoo… I made the bed. I folded clothes and put them in drawers. I got lost in my chores. Somebody’s dog kept barking up a storm outside, with that high-pitched yappy bark of smaller dogs which I cannot abide to listen to. But on I slaved. I made a stop at the computer in the loft to check my email, and then I got lost in doing that for way too long. That dang dog kept going. But the yapping reminded me that a couple of doors in the house had been squeaking, so off I went to the garage to find the WD-40 to solve that problem, which I did.

After returning the WD-40 to its spot in the garage, I decided it was time to crack open a frosty can of sparkling water and spend some time sitting with Skitter on the couch. But the dog I could still hear barking outside was getting on my top nerve, so I decided I had to go find it and its person before I could finally sit down and relax with Skitter. I wanted to give both the owner and dog a lecture about how to be a good neighbor in the neighborhood by not letting your dog bark outside for two hours, driving the rest of us neighbors crazy.

As I approached the patio door to go outside, there it was! That infernal barky, yappy mutt was in my back yard, right out on the patio—on its hind legs, knocking its front paws against the sliding door to get in as it barked!

Ahoy! It was none other than my very own personal dog, Skitter, herself. I had completely forgotten I had put her outside to potty before I started my round of chores. I have never, ever done anything remotely like that to our little rescue darling before. I make it my business to always know exactly where The Skit has parked herself, and that she feels safe in her environs. It’s my job. Golly, I oughta fire myself.

The poor, tortured thing! O’ the trauma I unintentionally put her through! The horror! The horror! Gee, I feel about a centimeter tall right now. Skitter wasn’t shaking too bigly when she came back in the house, although she was a little hoarse when we howled together as we were reunited. Other than that, she seems to be recovering from her temporary terror just fine. I, however, am still quaking in my cougar-print Sloggers at my enormous mistake.

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Mom Never Ceases To Amuse

The wind was so fierce it blew Mom’s Tie o’ the Day clean off her neck. Or something like that. But her hair is perfect. Mom has always loved her hairspray.

This slide has always been a family favorite. Even Mom looked forward to seeing it turn up in the slide rotation. It is dated 1968, but I don’t know where it was taken. I should have paid more attention to location details during our family get-togethers for slide-watching on the living room wall. The exact circumstance of the picture is unclear, but I have a feeling Dad was giving all the directions. “Hey, Helen. Go stand sideways over by the edge, facing into the wind.” He probably cracked a joke about “mountain ranges” or some such thing. I’m sure she was replying to him with jokes as snappy as his. I’m also sure they were both loving every minute of it.

She misses him so.

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Pandemic Hair Was Inevitable

Got barber scissors? Tie o’ the Day has plenty.

Remember two years ago when I was growing out my hairs because y’all voted for me to grow it out for a whole 12 months? And remember when my hairs got so hideous that I created Hairs Thursday here, so you could see whatever hairsdo I could muster at that point? Well, I am inadvertently at it again. My last hairscut was at the beginning of February, right before we visited Nashville and then went into pandemic mode. I’m like Mom: I am picky about who cuts my hairs. In Centerville, I refuse to have anyone but Miss Tiffany do the honors, and she has not yet been available to chop my locks and shave the right half of my noggin hairs.

It seemed like Hairs Thursday’s were a success in the TIE O’ THE DAY chuckle department, so I’m gonna do them again for however long it takes Miss Tiffany to fit me in for my shearing.

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Taking Time To Smell The Face Mask

I’m just sittin’ around on my expanding old lady butt, wearing fish tacos on my shirt. I’m also wearing a baseball Tie o’ the Day to remind me how much I didn’t miss Major League Baseball one iota this pandemic spring and summer. That’s sacrilegious—sacri-baseball-ious?—for me to say, based on my baseball-y relatives. If my nephew, Ron, were still playing pro baseball, I’d care about it. But he’s not, so I don’t. [You’ll notice that when they are on the field, baseball players have always pretty much been arranged at grand social distances from each other.]

Other than that, I’m just so happy I have this fascinatingly purty Face Mask o’ the Day. It’s so purty I’m wearing it even while I’m home all by myself this afternoon. I kinda want somebody to drop by in their boring mask for a visit-at-a-distance, just so they can be jealous of my piece of fabulous face-wear.

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Two More Plumbing Anecdotes

I’ve got a bigly jumbo butterfly Bow Tie o’ the Day for y’all this morning. I will definitely remove my Face Mask o’ the Day before drinking from my infamous commode cup. I just had to fit this potty cup in my selfie, since the post’s topic is plumbing.

In my last post, I mentioned the plumber had been to the house last week to conquer a few issues. But I forgot to tell you about two groovy things that happened during the plumber’s time here. At some point the plumber says to me, “My hearing aid battery is about out of juice, so if you need to get my attention, you’ll need to yell.” Of course, I am a wearer o’ hearing aids myself, so I yelled, “312 batteries?” And he said in astonishment, “Yes!” So I handed him a 312 hearing aid battery from my stash. Hearing accomplished. I did not present him with a bill for my services.

My favorite moment was when he came downstairs to do his paperwork—tablet work, really. He promptly said, “With all the ties and sewing machines I’m seeing around the house, I’m betting you make ties for a living.” I explained the sewing machines belonged to the crafty, sew-y Suzanne and had nothing whatsoever to do with me. And by the time I finished regaling the man with my quirky love for ties and bow ties, and how I have a blog so I can show off my neckwear and tell stories—well, the plumber was shell-shocked, to say the least. But I enjoyed it. I always love instances when I can go into my what-do-you-know-about-bow-ties-and-would-you-like-to -know-more pitch.

My all-time fave experience with a plumbing problem and the plumber who fixed it occurred a decade ago. We still lived in Ogden at the time, but also still had the Delta house. I was at my desk in Ogden when I got a call from someone at the Delta City office. Apparently, the outside water at my Delta house had sprung a very leaky leak underground, and my water meter was racking up the gallons at full speed—lickety-split enough that my water usage had caught the attention of an astute water-watcher in the office. I was 175 miles away from Delta at the time. What to do?I herded the dogs into my car, and off we hauled to Delta. In the car, I immediately called a Delta plumber, of course. I had his number already in my phone, because the Delta house was an old house, and plumbing problems had often occurred previously. I said, “Hey, Kelly. I know you’re busy, but Delta City called me and said I have a major leak, but I’m not in town right now. Could you please go over to my place and check it out ASAP? I’ll be there in 3 hours. Mom has a key to my house, so I’ll call her and have her unlock my door. Feel free to go in and out as you need to. Whatever you think needs to be done, go ahead and do it.” I wasn’t worried on my drive from Ogden to Delta. I was confident the problem would be properly dealt with.

When I pulled up to the Delta house, the plumbing crew was already working on fixing the problem. And Mom was sitting on my front porch supervising them. I love small towns.

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Me? Climb The Water Tower? No Comment.

Red and white Tie o’ the Day dresses up as the Delta Water Tower, with the aid of our water heater. The red “D” reigns, no matter what town I take off my cowboy boots in.

We’ve lived in our Centerville house eight years. It was new when we moved in. Guess what time it is? Time for the house and whatever came with it to need some little tweaks. Last week, the ice maker in the fridge simply stopped making ice. No smoke, no sputtering, no subtle dying creaks. It made ice, then it didn’t. Enter, the refrigerator repairman. He tinkered around in the guts of the freezer door, but he could find nothing wrong. Exit, the repairman and his fee. He must have done something though, because the ice maker is making ice now. It must have just wanted some attention from someone who understood it. Go figure.

And then there’s the plumbing. When the master bath shower is first turned on, there is a growing rumbling o’ the pipes throughout the house. I was outside on the morning of the 4th of July, and I could hear the pipes grumble when Suzanne got in the shower. The outside world should not have to hear our pipes. Also, the water pressure in the shower is almost zero. Lately when I shower, I feel like I’m standing under a rain cloud that drops rain one raindrop at a time. Dribble, dribble.

So I spent most of Wednesday watching the plumber do whatever he needed to do. A bigly bill later, and the pipes haven’t grumbled again. The water pressure in the shower is now restored. Victory! Almost. There are still a couple of water issues Suzanne’s not satisfied with, so I’ll be hosting the plumber again soon. I am a writer by trade. But I know my real job is to keep Suzanne happy—even with the plumbing.

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Okey-dokey

The Bow Ties of the 4th of July happened, but the air parade we were supposed to see above us as we sat on the deck did not come to pass. The city said it was canceled at the last minute because of problems with insurance. Most of our development didn’t get that memo, so we were all outside looking to the skies. We each did our social distancing by staying on our own property, but socializing with each other very loudly. Gradually, the news of the air parade’s cancellation got texted, tweeted, screamed, and facebooked up and down the street. Oh, well. We got to see the regular air traffic in the blue sky anyway. Hey, we’re free! No complaints here.

As you can see from her pix, Skitter had dressed in her patriotic tie to watch the parade. She’s still a little unclear of the concept of how to watch any kind of parade. On the deck, her skittishness kept her staring into the house the entire time, instead of out at the neighborhood or up at the skies.

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4th o’ July

I had a tough time choosing neckwear today. Here in Centerville, we’re having an air parade later this morning. Social distancing is truly the etiquette of 2020. But what does one wear to sit on their deck to watch an air parade? Should I go with the patriotic stick mustache-and-bow-tie, or do I don the patriotic stick necktie? Nope. As is my usual 4th of July custom, I’m going with the Constitution Bow Tie o’ the Day. Have fun safely today, my fellow citizens.

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A Very Teeny, Tiny Mortgage

So what did I actually do with my time while I wasn’t writing TIE O’ THE DAY posts during my recent bout of bipolar depression? Well, most of what I did was try to make it through one hour at a time. I’m sure I’ll fill you in on some of my murkier activities, which—to be more accurate—were more like non-activities. But I’ve dealt with the swing of this bipolar pendulum all my life, and I know one way to make it through is to make appointments and show up—no matter how I’m feeling. I made an appointment with Gracie.

A few days earlier, Suzanne and I had participated in an annual silent auction benefitting Davis Schools. It’s usually a bigly dinner event where we dress up and make a night of it. COVID-19 put the brakes on that sort of event this year, so we sat at home and bid on items by iPhone while watching tv. The oddest thing happened! Every auction item I bid on that night—and eventually won—was for someone Gracie’s age. How weird is that? I didn’t see that coming.

I texted Gracie’s Mom, the beauteous Bishopette Collette, to set up a time I could deliver the haul. She said she’d check with Bishop Travis, my nephew supreme, for a workable drop-off time when they would all be around.

In honor of Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette, I wore my BYU Tie o’ the Day when I made the delivery. They appreciated it. Grace, however, didn’t remember me at all. I mean—I hadn’t seen her since right before X-mas, which means I hadn’t seen her for half of her one-year life! I was glad I wore my cow shoes. Grace warmed up to them and kept trying to take them off my feet. I’ll wear my chicken shoes next time, and she’ll never forget me again.

I delivered Gracie some stuffed beasts to hug, a play vet kit, and something called a Cottage Playhouse, which needed to be assembled. I apologized to Travis and Collette about bringing something in need of assembly. I have known Bishop Travis his entire life, and he is a man o’ many talents. Putting things together is not one of them. When I apologized about the cottage’s unassembled state, Travis and Collette—almost in unison—said, “That’s why we have Lela.” Lela is Collette’s neice, who takes care of Grace when Travis and Collette are working. I was glad Lela was there with them the day I delivered the gifts, and I was especially glad to know she would be the official General Contractor of the playhouse. You can see Lela in one of the pics here, actually smiling while assembling. I bet Lela whistles while she works too.

On my drive home, after I left the Blackwelder’s with a new house to build, I realized that I can forever brag that I bought Gracie her first house. And Lela can brag that she built it.