Day: October 6, 2018

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Nuts For Bolts

I’m sporting a super-slim Bow Tie o’ the Day this afternoon. Bow Tie and I have got our eyes on Suzanne’s productivity. Here, she’s ironing some material from her Leaning Tower o’ Fabric. She’s prepping to do her first Ultimate SewingBox project. And guess what? For her maiden project, she’s making something for little ol’ me. She’s making me a cape. Finally. I’ve wanted her to make me one for years. I’ve wanted her to make it to help me become The Caped Tie-sader. I think buying her The Ultimate SewingBox guilted her into finally becoming my cape factory.

Sure enough, she found a cape pattern at JOANN’s in St. George. She’s experimenting with it today, so she’s using some useless, old, crusty fabric to make the prototype. We’ve gotta see what design will work, according to my capey desires. Suzanne has to design it perfectly before we spend a small fortune on my chosen cape fabrics. You know I will want more than one cape, if I find this one to my liking.

When I refer to the test cape being made of “useless” fabric, I am saying that any normal person would see that the fabric is “useless.” A normal person would have scrapped these scraps long ago. Suzanne, however, is not normal. There is no piece of fabric on this planet that is “useless” to her.

Oh, I know Suzanne is not the only one. A lot of y’all giggle in anticipation of a trip to a fabric store. Suzanne and some of y’all salivate at the sight of fresh bolts of material being put on the racks at MOM’S CRAFTS. But really, if a scraggly piece of nearly disintegrating material has lived a good, long life in the bottom of a musty drawer that hasn’t been opened in three decades, put it out of its misery. Or make me a cape with it.

[The next time you see me and a tie here, I am confident we will be wearing a cape designed and handmade by Suzanne, The Patient Seamstress and her Ultimate SewingBox.]

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So That Is How My First Name Got Real

Double-wood Bow Tie o’ the Day says I should explain to my Delta friends how my first name and my middle name seemingly switched at some point in my life. My full, legal name is Helen Eileen Wright, and until I graduated from DHS and left Delta, I went by the name, Eileen. I don’t know why, but that’s what everyone had always called me.

When I had to begin filling out all the paperwork that comes with being an adult– like college applications, job applications, rental applications, my passport application, etc.– it was so complicated to keep using my middle name as my first name, because my Social Security card had my “real” name on it. So I became Helen. I also have been referred to as Helen, Jr., Li’l Hel, H. E., Helen E., and prob other variations I can’t recall right now. I’ve been known as Helen for almost twice as long as I was Eileen, so it’s almost impossible for me to think of me as anything but Helen, although I’m just fine with either name you’re comfortable using for me.

When the switch happened, I found that I liked the name Helen better than Eileen. Nobody ever got the spelling right on Eileen. Helen was more me-ish. And what I liked most about making the change was that there aren’t many women who have their mothers’ names. I do, and I have always looked up to Mom, so her name was something I’ve strived to honor. It’s inspired me to be more like her. Wearing her name has definitely made me a better woman than I would have been otherwise.

What this whole name thing means is that I’ve had a childhood name and an adult name. Depending on what name you use to address me, I know– and everybody else knows– when you first knew me.

When my parents were trying to come up with a name for me, they were stumped. I was almost named Melanie. And then I was almost named Rhonda– so they could have yet another “Ron”  in the family. They settled on the name of one of Mom’s nurses, who was such a key part of Mom recovering from my birth, Eileen Boothe. Mom had nearly died giving birth to me. Dr. Bird had to give her a half-dozen blood transfusions, and he told her, “No more babies, Helen.” (And then Dad had a little operation. 😉)

Anyhoo… Dad was giving me my baby blessing, and when he got to my name, he named me after Mom. She was surprised. They had never talked about doing that. He told Mom she’d had a difficult enough time having me that I should have her name. I’m grateful he did that. I try to honor it, knowing I will forever fall short. But I try.