Category: Stories

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Ties Help Me Tell My Stories

Pieces of neckwear can act like a trail of clues, as mine are doing this afternoon.

I wrote in my earlier post that I had woken up on the wrong side of my bipolarity this morning, so I wasn’t feeling quite right in the noggin. After I posted, I realized I hadn’t made it clear which side of the bipolarity I woke up on. Well, it was the depressive side of the pendulum.

As of this moment, I’m moving farther and farther to that side of my crazy head. I know how my bipolar cycles work, so I know what to expect. Because of that, I don’t usually panic about the depression. So far, it has always passed. The pendulum always swings back to the middle. And then it swings to one extreme or the other again. There is no rhyme or reason to when the pendulum moves, which way it moves, or how long it will hover when it stops to taunt me.

Anyhoo… Bow Tie o’ the Day and kitty Tie o’ the Day are based on the movie BAD SANTA. I’ve never seen the movie. I tried to watch it, but drifted off in bored disgust. It was rank. I chose to wear these pieces of neckwear today because of my mood, which is dark, bad, mean, annoyed, impatient, paralyzed, weary, hopeless…….  It really is okay though, because I understand what’s going on. Even when it’s scary, I know it will pass. My mood will change.

Sometimes creating TIE O’ THE DAY gets me through a tough day: it provides me a purpose, when I don’t feel like I have one. I try to be disciplined about posting twice per day. If I do that, at the end of a day when I feel like a waste of soul-space, I can tell myself I accomplished something– however tiny a feat it might be.

CHRISTMAS VACATION Tie o’ the Day is the clue that tells you I was thinking it might be a good idea– in light of my below-down mood– to go in for some electroshock therapy. If it’s good enough for Clark Griswold, it’s good enough for me.

Rockin’ Tie o’ the Day is what I’m doing right now to try to bring my mood up a level or two. I’m in my loft writing, and listening to music: MUMFORD AND SONS’ recent release, BAND OF HORSES’ everything, and KACEY MUSGRAVES’ Christmas cd. So far that’s my playlist this afternoon. Music helps me deal with whichever extreme I’m feeling in my bipolarity, but I have to be mindful of what kind of music I choose during any given mood. Cranking up Hank Williams’ (Sr.) heartbreak songs is not conducive to moving out of depression. And listening to heavy metal is absolutely the wrong antidote for mania.

So far I’ve been able to successfully manage my bipolarity. I mean, I am still alive and kickin’. Knock on wood. Being alive is success. I am fully aware that my head disease can– and probably will– advance as I age. That doesn’t terrify me. I don’t know why it doesn’t, but it doesn’t. I am right here, right now. My ties surf my moods with me, always protecting me from ennui and danger. They’ve got my back. Actually, I guess they have my front, eh?

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 35 Bow Ties. 89 Neckties.

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Some Days Are Like That

I woke up on the wrong side of the proverbial bed this morning. I woke up on the wrong side of my bipolar head. I thought achieving the amazingly high level of clash fashion you see in this photo would certainly buoy my brain a bit. It did not. Even my first Christmas Jacket o’ the Day, combined with Bow Tie o’ the Day and Three Ties o’ the Day, hasn’t roused my story-telling spirit.

Be ye not afraid. It will pass. It always does. I’ve been through this before, and I’ve written about it before. I’ll again encounter this feeling a thousand times in the future, and I’ll write about it here that same thousand times. Lucky you!

It’s all good. I’m what is is known as a rapid-cycler, in terms of bipolarity. My mood will switch soon. I’ll get jolly in the twinkling of an eye.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 34 Bow ties. 86 Neckties.

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Dad’s Off Playing With His Dogs In Heaven

Santa-hatted canines abound, covering Bow Tie o’ the Day and Ties o’ the Day. Dad was not just a bee guy. He was not just a holder of any nearby baby. My late dad was also a dog man.

Especially after Dad semi-retired, he was always seen with a mutt companion riding in the back of his truck. He was partial to Labrador Retrievers, like the one here wrapped up in a string of Christmas lights. This Golden Lab resembles the last few dogs Dad had in his life. He had only one dog at a time, but somehow the dogs all looked exactly alike.

Seriously, Dad’s dogs didn’t look alike in the sense of being of the same breed. Nope. They just all looked alike. Exactly alike.  And I mean, exactly. Dad inadvertently made it even more complicated for us to keep the dogs straight in our memories because he named his dogs the same names. If the dog was a female, he named it Becky. If it was a male, he named it Bert. I guess by the time Dad was choosing the dogs of his later years, he didn’t want to be bothered to remember new names. I do think he’s the only person who truly knew the separate souls of each of his clone-like mutts.

I’m glad Dad knew I was a baby, and not a puppy, when I was born. He would have named me Becky. Instead, he named me Helen Eileen (see that story in an earlier post). I suppose you could say I was kind of Dad’s puppy for the first six months of my life, though. Mom went through Hell giving birth to me and she was not well enough to mother me for a few months, so my dad was also my mom. (The original MR. MOM?)

My sisters helped take care of me. My grandparents helped. But mostly, I was in Dad’s arms. As I understand it, I spent a lot of time cooing and crying and napping in his bee truck while he worked in the bee yards– from Richfield to St. George to Payson to Heber and back to Delta again.

To hear Mom tell it, Dad was so concerned about her health, and he treated her with such tenderness that he wouldn’t even allow her to lift a finger to change my diaper for the first six months of my life. Now that’s probably a bigly bit of an exaggeration. It’s likely a tall tale. But Dad was tall, and many tales have been told about him. He was mythical in his own way, imperfections and all. Dad was not perfect, but he was perfectly Dad. In his way, he was a true myth I know by heart.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 31 Bow ties. 82 Neckties.

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Another Holiday. Christmas Is Not Alone.

Menorah-covered Bow Tie o’ the Day and I wish y’all a Happy Hanukkah. The Jewish celebration began last night and continues until the evening of December 10th. In another post, I’ll yack about what Hanukkah is, and I’ll also yack about how the word is spelled a number of ways– all of which are correct. Stay tuned for that spelling lesson.

When Hanukkah began last evening, Suzanne and I happened to be at Walmart, buying cases of Suzanne’s fave flavored water. Bow Tie was right there in the thick of things. I’m pretty sure going to Walmart is not part of official, traditional Hanukkah observances, but Bow Tie was fine with showing off its menorah-ness to Walmart patrons.

Notice Suzanne behind me in the photo with the loaded shopping cart. The cart was heavy, and difficult to push. It’s been my job over the years to do the lifting and toting and pushing of heavy things, but since my surgery, Suzanne has taken it over. I feel bad about this. I hate not doing my jobs, and I especially hate not being able to at least help Suzanne. She should not have to be the lifter and pusher and puller o’ weights. It’s been almost six months since I was sliced open, and I think it’s time for me to take my old lifting job back. But Suzanne is stubborn, and she keeps nixing the idea.

I do move heavy stuff when Suzanne is at work, if it’s in my way. Sometimes I move heavy things that don’t even need to be moved– just to spite her. Of course, they’re not extremely heavy things. Usually. And of course, I move them back to their original spots before she gets home from work, so she doesn’t catch on to my forbidden activity. I suppose it’s a bit passive-aggressive of me, but so what? So there!

Suzanne is as stubborn about not letting me move heavy objects as I am stubborn right now about growing out my hairs. She simply will not quit harping on me about how much she hates my hair and wants me to cut it. I say YES to anything Suzanne wants or wants me to do. But not about this hairs thing. Personally, I think she is not sure how to handle my NO about cutting my hairs. It’s like she’s never before heard NO come out of my mouth. It has discombobulated her.

Come to think of it, it has sort of discombobulated me too. I have never heard NO leave my lips before either, regarding whatever Suzanne wants. To be fair, I haven’t heard the word NO often from Suzanne either. We’re a pair o’ YES’s, eh?

[Thanks so much to those of you who informed me that mutts are allowed in MCR. I made the assumption they weren’t, and I didn’t even ask MCR staff if it was okay to bring Skitter in. I was a dope! Ask, people! Don’t assume. I told Skitter the fantastic news and she is already excited to go back to D-ville to see Mom and be afraid of everything and everybody in MCR.]

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 30 Bow ties. 74 Neckties.

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A Speedy Jaunt To D-ville

So, about yesterday’s adventure… We had such a lovely, long day with Mom in Delta I had no time to write and post about it last evening, as I had said I would.

We bawled. We laughed. We chortled. We told a zillion some-what true stories. Millard Care and Rehab (MCR) shook, rocked, rolled, and roared yesterday. Damn! Snowman Bow Tie o’ the Day and Winter Cape o’ the Day had a grand Saturday hangin’ out with Mom. Mom is, as Suzanne says, the Belle of the Ball at MCR. And she is treated as such.

I never alert Mom when I’m headed down to see her, in case something happens to prevent me from showing up when I say I will– so she’s always a bit surprised when we walk in. Yesterday, she immediately started to cry. She kept assuring me and Suzanne that her tears were tears of joy. What a welcome for us! Of course, I know Mom’s joyful tears were all for Suzanne. I’m the third wheel when they’re with each other. (Poor me, eh?) Suzanne gave Mom some winter table runner-y things (I don’t know what they’re called) she had quilted for Mom’s table and chest of drawers. Goal for Suzanne!

Skitter even drove down with us and got to touch her nose to Mom’s hand from outside, through the screen window in Mom’s room.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that Skitter and Mom took to each other immediately when they first met– despite Skitter’s fear of everything, and despite Mom’s dislike for touching pets. Skitter has always gently pawed at Mom, and Mom has always enjoyed petting Skitter. Skitter has never been afraid of Mom’s touch. Of course, I’m sure it helped that Mom’s hands always smelled of whatever yummy thing she had been cooking.

For our visit with Mom, I wore the latest cape Suzanne created for me. [I’ll display it more completely in a future post.] The cape is dramatic, to say the least. Mom loved both sides of it. In the photo with me and Mom together, Mom is in snuggled in the cape with me. But, of course, you can’t see that very well because my stupid arm is in the way– because I’m such a genius selfie photographer.

One of the coolest features of the cape is that both fabrics are covered in glitter. By the time we were done with all the hugs and kisses of yesterday, Mom had glitter on her clothes and her face, and she sparkled like the sparkler she still is. I love that sparkly broad.

The second picture shows a bit of the other side of my cape, but it primarily shows you the permanent sign in the hall outside Mom’s room, identifying her as the room’s resident. She prizes her bewitching name sign, and will not allow it to be changed even though Halloween is long gone. If nothing else, Mom knows exactly what she’s all about. Clearly, she’s an over-the-top entertainer in her soul.

When I knew Suzanne would be driving down with me, I knew there would be a trip to MOM’S CRAFTS on the schedule. I even ribbed her that her purpose for driving to Delta with me had nothing to do with Mom, but was to go to MOM’S CRAFTS. She ducked out from MCR on her own for that foray. [And thank you, Kyla, for allowing Suzanne to spend our entire Christmas budget on fabric while she was shopping there.] When Suzanne returned to MCR, she gave Mom a peak at her fabric booty, and Mom was in high Heaven checking it out. And then Mom fell all over herself complimenting Suzanne about her mastery of all things sewing and crafting. Suzanne’s sewing head swelled with her own greatness. If Mom had given Suzanne one more compliment, Suzanne’s swelled head would not have fit inside the car. I would have had to tie her to the roof rack for the drive back to Centerville.

I can’t even begin to tell you exactly what we did or what we talked about while playing with Mom, but I think even the MCR staff had a fine time watching and hearing us have a rowdy party. All I can I can say is that the noise and affection never stopped. And the love glittered the entire time.

Like I said about Mom a few paragraphs ago, I love that sparkly old broad.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 29 Bow ties. 74 Neckties.

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Shot Needles Hurt

Bow Tie o’ the Day gives us our white, red, and green plaid. Ties o’ the Day give us more of the basic Christmas icons. What I also see when I look at this photo is that my flaking nails need new nail polish.

I’ve recently scrounged up some Christmas-y nail polish colors. But let me just say this: Just a plain ol’, regular Christmas green was a difficult color to find in the world of nail polish I visited. I found everything from Fluorescent Green, to Alien Blood Green, to I’m-Gonna-Throw-Up-Face Green. But was there a nail polish color called “Just Plain Ol’ Christmas Green?” Nope. I got what greens I could find. The right reds were easy colors to locate.

Well, my little appointment this afternoon for the ultrasound on my shoulder went ok. On the ultrasound machine screen, my right rotator cuff looked gnarly from all sides. I mean– it was ugly, with a capital O-U-C-H. Shoulder surgery is most likely in my future, but not the really-near future. I’m trying cortisone shots before resorting to that. In fact, I got shot up right after the ultrasound. If my shoulder pain is going to improve because of the cortisone, I should know in a few days.

I’m trying to be hopeful, but when I got similar shots in my lower back a few years ago, they were not effective at all. Those shots did not touch my back pain one iota. The only way I knew I had gotten the shots was because I got the bills. But I tried what my then-doc suggested. And I’ll try what I need to try now. I follow doctors’ orders. Mostly.

In fact, you might find it impossible to believe but I am pretty much a rule-follower. I’m a straight arrow. I go with the flow. However, I also do my research, and I’m observant. I have a brain. I’m not a dope, and I’m not easily duped.

To follow rules and laws does not necessarily make you a lemming. It makes things work. For example, I might not like the new four-way stop they recently created over in the next block, but I want all drivers coming from all directions to follow the law and STOP when they are driving there. I prefer not to get t-boned.

On occasion, in the face of a specific rule and/or law, we do have to stand up and say, “Whoa! Uh-uh! Nope! That ain’t gonna happen!” It’s our obligation as people on the planet. I believe in sending reasoned messages when rules/laws encroach on human dignity and freedom. I believe in non-violent civil disobedience. I believe in safe protests. I believe in posters and signs and bumper stickers and banners. I believe in short-hand slogans on t-shirts. I believe in voting.

I also believe in thick-skin, and in not being offended by every bigly and little thing done by people whose bumper stickers (aka opinions) differ from mine. Facts are a different animal altogether. Facts are not debatable. I’ll call you on your “fake facts.” And I expect you to call me on mine. And I most certainly expect us to act like ladies and gentlemen while we do it.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 27 Bow ties. 71 Neckties.

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If It’s Not One Ailment, It’s Another

Penguin Tie o’ the Day serves a much-needed purpose for me today.  It is a “cute” and understated tie, projecting a non-weird vibe for someone I am meeting for the first time. Sometimes it is of utmost importance to proceed under the radar a bit.

This morning I had my initial appointment with my shoulder specialist. You don’t want your fashion to be too loud when you meet someone important who has no idea about your tie issues– especially when that person might eventually be cutting you open with a scalpel. You want your surgeon to be comfortable getting to know you. And then, after you are chattin’ pals, you can unveil your authentic tie self. You can get out your clash fashion. You can wear your bigly butterfly bow ties to future appointments. You can skip into the doc’s office in one of your eye-popping capes. I can’t wait!

Anyhoo… At my initial appointment this morning, I had a series of X-rays done. Dr. Hugh (not his real name) talked me through the X-rays, none of which made any sense to me. Fast forward to the bottom line:  The rotator cuff in my right shoulder is toast. So far, that’s all we know for sure. I go back for an ultrasound in a couple of hours.

I know you are all hoping I won’t have to have another surgery, because you know I’ll tell you every annoying detail of the operation and the recovery. And I know we’ve all had enough of that kind of blah, blah, blah this year.

I could promise you right now that if I have to go under the sharp knife again, I won’t bore you with details. But I won’t promise any such thing. I know who I am. I know what I can and can’t change about myself. And I can’t change the fact that I write about whatever’s going on with me, no matter how hair-raising, death-defying, humdrum, or unbelievable. It’s how I roll. Sorry, folks.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 26 Bow ties. 68 Neckties.

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It’s A Win-Win Situation For Us

Ties o’ the Day assisted me in hanging the first Christmas decorations of the season. As I have previously mentioned, some people have a fireplace as the focal point of their living rooms. We do not. The focal point of our living room is Suzanne’s Ultimate SewingBox, so we’re pretending it is a fireplace– for the purpose of holiday decorations. As one of these photos shows, it truly does take up one entire wall in the living room. It’s one of the shorter walls in the room, but that wall is exactly where we’d put a fireplace if we chose to have one. A fireplace would have fit nicely here. We even thought of putting built-in bookshelves from floor to ceiling on this wall.

And then I discovered the existence of The Ultimate SewingBox, which changed the course of our living room history. Yup, it was I who found the product. I briefly debated not showing it to Suzanne. I knew that after she saw it she would never again be happy if she couldn’t have one, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for us to adopt the giant. After she saw the video of what The Ultimate SewingBox can do/hold, she fell in madly in love with it, as I knew she would. How could I not get her one?

How was it decided we place it in the living room? That was my idea too. Suzanne has a crafting/sewing room upstairs, and The Ultimate SewingBox was originally intended to live up there. And then I realized I would never see Suzanne again if that monstrous piece of furniture was ensconced in her crafting/sewing room. There is no power that would be able to pull her away from its many crafty, sew-y uses. Also, The Ultimate SewingBox would take up her whole sewing room. She wouldn’t even have room for the ironing board, so I said, “Hey, Suzanne, forget the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Forget any thought of a fireplace. The Ultimate SewingBox needs to be in the living room, right by my too-big tv.” This ensures we are both in the same room occasionally.

Suzanne expressed the tiniest bit of concern for me, wondering if the sewing machine noise would be a problem for me when I’m trying to watch tv. I asked her if she had ever heard of volume control. Needless to say, our tv volume is always unbelievably high. Sit somewhere in our yard if you want to listen to whatever tv program we’re watching.

I have been accused of being nice to Suzanne for getting her The Ultimate SewingBox, and then suggesting it should be in the living room. I am here to assure you I am not a nice person. I am incredibly selfish. I figure this whole Ultimate SewingBox escapade will keep Suzanne from ever again nagging me about anything– especially my ever-growing tie population. So you see, Suzanne’s Ultimate SewingBox is all about me.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 26 Bow ties. 67 Neckties.

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Lookin’ Better All The Time

Bow Ties o’ the Day are based on the movie, ELF. I figured situating them as a sort of frame around my scar would be an effective way to show all three. These bow ties are perfect examples of bow tie designs that didn’t quite cut it. The fabrics display prints with items far too difficult to see and decipher, especially if your eyes are not literally glued to Bow Ties. Good bow tie idea. Crappy design execution. But these imperfect critters needed a home, and The Tie Room does not discriminate. It welcomes neckwear with open drawers. There was no doubt I would bring these two orphans home from the Bow Tie Pound– to live among, and to be loved by, my entire collection of neckwear.

Believe it or not, family and friends occasionally still ask how my scar is healing. Even Mom asks to take a gander at it when I visit her. I now make sure to lift my shirt to show her only when we’re in her room. If I showed her anywhere else at the care center, she’d be telling me to show everybody else in our midst.

And yes, I actually made that mistake with Mom once. She wanted to see the as-yet-unnamed scar while we were sitting in a common area. I quickly and discreetly lifted my shirt a bit to show her, and she began calling others over to appreciate my healing gash. It’s not like I could be impolite and not show them, and I would do anything Mom asked me to do. So I showed ’em. Thanks, Mom.

I am not famous, but my scar appears to be famous and popular enough to get its own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Anyhoo… My scar is lightening up right on schedule. Clearly, I am not shy about showing off my dark pink scalpel line, but I’m trying to decide two things. First, my scar needs a name. In a post a few weeks ago, I asked for suggestions, but none of them struck me as exactly right. I’m asking again. Put on your cleverness, then send me names you think will properly fit a scar. If I end up choosing one of your suggestions, you’ll win a prize– a bow tie.

Second, I plan to get a tattoo which incorporates my scar in its design. For example, I’ve thought of turning it into a zipper tat. Again, I’m asking for your ideas. There is a bow tie prize connected to this too. If I choose your suggestion, you win.

 

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 26 Bow ties. 64 Neckties.

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Suzanne Hacked This Post

Suzanne– who stars in this photo– innocently worked away at a fabric-y project all evening. But when the Ties o’ the Day and I sat down at the laptop this morning to compose this post, we found she had worked on another project as well. We found the following message– written by Suzanne– already typed in on this page. We leave her words exactly as we found them:

“I know the cape tally will never equal the ties, but I hope everyone knows that I make them by hand, carefully spinning the cotton, weaving, dying and printing the fabric, then I have to cut out each pattern piece (there are 393 in total), finally I make each stitch—evenly spaced—painstakingly with a needle and thread. I work far into the night by candlelight, occasionally I use the lantern, then I fashion a specific ribbon for the TIE closure at the neckline. I’m pretty sure the selling price would run well into several tens of thousands of dollars and instead of quitting my day job, I donate each and every cape to the one, the only, tie o’ the day founder, H.E. Wright, who, coincidentally gave me the BEST. SEWING. BOX. EVER.”

We proclaim: All praise to The Ultimate SewingBox Suzanne, Cape-maker to the Wearer o’ Ties!

Note to self: Inactivate Suzanne’s Administrator status for the website, so she can’t hack me with her two-cents’-worth again.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 23 Bow ties. 60 Neckties.