Category: Ties

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The Invisible Tie Woman

I needed a clothes hanger to help out Tie o’ the Day this morning. My face feels too tired to be in a photo. Sometimes that happens. And also, I’m planning to scrub the bathroom later, and I ain’t gussying up for that task. I hereby declare Pajama Day for myself. Suzanne’s just gonna have to miss out on a pj holiday until this weekend.

Despite the fact that I still need to take frequent pj days while I’m healing up, my daily to-do lists are getting longer and longer, as my surgery gets farther in my rearview mirror. For almost a month after my hospital adventure, my only daily chore was walking to the freezer for Popsicles, if Suzanne wasn’t home to retrieve them for me. And since Popsicling was my only chore, I didn’t even need to write a list.

After a few more weeks, I added a few routine chores to my to-do’s. Things like folding clothes, putting dishes into the dishwasher, driving myself to my own doctor appointments in my car, etc. Oh, and going to brunch. That’s my favorite-est chore of all.

I can cook and make the bed and do my own laundry now, so I write those tasks on my list. (I have never ever been allowed to do Suzanne’s laundry, for no discernible reason except that she has OCD about it, and is compelled to do it herself.) I can empty the dishwasher and put the clean dishes and pans in their places now. I can roll the garbage and recycling cans to and from the curb. I can run errands in my clutched truck. I grocery shop again. I can de-poop Skitter’s droppings from the back yard on Wednesday’s, before the HOA lawn dudes show up to mow.

An unfortunate thing about my torso feeling better, however, is that I am once again able to put on a bra. I no longer have an excuse to not wear a breasticle girdle. I hate when that happens.

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A Mad Dash

Tie o’ the Day and I made a lickety-split trip to Delta and back. We spent the day with Mom, who could not quit telling me how much she loved Tie. I picked it out to wear especially for her because Mom has this thing for witches. She always says she’s a witch. In fact, she and Peggy Crane each claimed to be the witchin’-est witch of them all. They tried mightily to out-witch each other. Mom claims to be a witch because Dad used to ask her every Halloween if her broom was sharpened for the holiday.

I drove down to D-ville for the sole purpose of checking on Mom. Already. She’s been in the Care Center less than a week, but I had to see for myself how she’s adjusting. OMGolly! She’s a popular old broad– with family, friends, and staff.

And this photograph is evidence that she’s got a healthy appetite. She was eating so intently that she couldn’t turn around for a photo with me. And that would have been an exceptional picture because she had her sunglasses on. She’s sitting with her longtime buddy, LaRae. They always eat together like they did when Mom was in the Care Center last year, recovering from her broken hip.

Mom says she’s content. She says she doesn’t want any of us to think she’s not happy right where she is. I asked her if she was telling the truth about that, or was she just saying she liked it in order to make us all feel better about the situation? She went on for at least five minutes, listing all the things she liked about being there. Of course, she mentioned the Atkinson’s regularly coming to sing– more than once. And she mentioned Sing Along– more than once. Oh, and the food’s good. And she can get her hair done whenever she wants. And she also mentioned she might get her nails done. And then she mentioned Sing Along again.

Speaking of singing, she said she enjoys having so many visitors there fawning over her that she sometimes feels like singing. I told her that wasn’t a good idea– except during Sing Along– if she wants the staff to let her stay. Talk about Halloween and horror!!! Mom and I not only share the same name, we share the same frightening singing voice. It’s ghastly. We are both smitten with music, but music is not smitten with us.

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This Is Only A Test

Cape o’ the Day meets Tie o’ the Day! Is this my kind of day, or what? Suzanne’s cape factory concocted this cape in a flash yesterday. Remember: This is just the practice cape, made out of the cruddy, yucky, “useless” fabric. But I think Suzanne did a fantastic job. I can’t wait to show this to the neighborhood. And I can’t wait for my real capes, to be made with decent fabric.

Yesterday, only after trying on the cape and giving its design my stamp of approval, I decided to pick out my own fabric for a couple more. Suzanne had an extra-thrifty JOANN’s coupon that was good only from 4-6 PM, so off we went to shop for material during that time. Guess who else was there. Every sewing and crafting aficionado in Davis County was there with us– with their own extra-thrifty, 4-6 PM JOANN’s coupon. And how many cashiers were checking out the customers? One.

Suzanne picked out fabric for one of my capes. I picked out fabric for two more. And then I went to the car to listen to music and nap while Suzanne stood in the line at the register. Forever. I certainly got the better of the whole deal. I got to listen to THE LUMINEERS and BAND OF HORSES. I got to have a nap. Meanwhile, Suzanne grew roots standing in the forever-long line AND had to pay the bill.

Poor Suzanne. She can’t wait until I have my energy and strength back, so she doesn’t have to do all the practical, tedious things by herself– and the big chores too, of course. She says she doesn’t mind that I’m a slug since surgery. But I mind. After the first two weeks following surgery, I’ve felt like I’m a drain on her and everyone else around me. I feel like I’m even a drain on myself. Feeling that way has taught me an unexpected lesson: Being responsible for yourself and your own wants and needs– bigly and small– gives you confidence and courage. I can feel mine slipping. I need to be useful to myself and others in order to get back my inner strength.

And now I’m going to ask Suzanne to cook me a steak and pour me a Diet Coke and find the remote I put down somewhere and find my bow tie slippers and let Skitter out to potty and fill Skitter’s food and water bowls and…  Oh, I feel my self-image worsening as I give her these orders to pamper me.

But I’m still gonna nag her to sew one of my real capes today while I watch General Conference. 😉

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Mom Has Slept Around This Year

Tie o’ the Day and I are actually feeling much better than we did yesterday, about our family’s decision to settle Mom in the Care Center. I haven’t been weepy today, and I know that’s not just because Tie is rockin’ it with the black and orange funk– although it is a snazzy look. Nope. We’re feeling more at peace about Mom because, by all reports, she’s feeling a little better about the situation herself.

Yesterday was not fun. Even when you know you’re doing the rightest thing you can do, it’s still tough to watch your mom cry. I can’t speak for anyone else in my family, but I can honestly say that there are moments when I feel like I’ve let Mom down somehow, even though I’ve done everything I can think to do for her, for as long as I’ve been able to do it. We all have. But when your mom’s crying, you damn well wish you could fix what’s wrong.

I know Mom is safe. I know she’ll enjoy herself where she is. That’s how Mom rolls. Her tears are not about where she’s living. She knows she’s blessed to be in a terrific facility, watched over by a compassionate staff. (And as an added bonus: Heck, the Atkinson’s will regularly come right to her new home to serenade her.)

Her tears are about how hard it is to handle the plethora of changes that have come her way the last couple of years. All of her recent life-changes make my own head spin. I can only imagine how those changes are making her 88-year-old head spin and zoom and cart-wheel. I’m sure she’s been feeling like she is no longer in charge of her own life. Unfortunately, that’s mostly  accurate. It is what is has to be.

Think of it. Mom was born in Oak City in 1930. She moved a spittin’ distance away to Delta when she married Dad in 1948. After that, she lived in the same house for 63 years. And then, just over a year ago, she fell and broke her hip while trying to put on her big girl pants. (Yes, that’s really how it happened.) Her life, as she knew it, was altered.

Mom had to leave her own home to live with my bro, Ron, in St. George– where we’ve stayed with her when Ron and Marie had to be away from home. (How horrible for me and Suzanne to have to spend time in St. George. And with Mom!) In the last year, Mom’s had sleepovers in Delta a few times. She’s stayed here with us in Centerville for a week here and there. She’s stayed in Pleasant View with my sister, BT and Kent, for days at a time too. For some reason, Mom thinks her kids are cool, so she’s had a blast every minute of everywhere she’s camped. But at this point, she needs to stop her galavanting. She wants to do all the rest of her sleeping in one town, and that town is her beloved, windy Delta.

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Now We Can Spill The Beans

I swore bandaged, broken hearts Tie o’ the Day to secrecy, but now we can tell you. Our little trip to St. George this week has been a secret mission. We didn’t want to say anything until the process was completed, but we hereby announce that we’ve packed up Mom and taken her back to Delta, where she will live out her next century in the Care Center. (It’s official name is different, but everybody refers to it as either the Care Center or Extended Care.)

Our family has seen it coming. We’ve worked hard to take good care of Mom for as long as we could. We wanted to keep this day from coming. Although we know it’s finally time for this, it’s still a hard transition for us and for Mom to make. It’s the beginning of Mom’s last chapter.

After she broke her hip last year, the best place for Mom to recover was with my brother, Ron and Marie, in St. George. Marie is the Queen Bee o’ All Nurses, and Mom’s doctors are in Dixie. Mom’s been pleased to live with Ron, and she was able to spend more time with her grandkids there. Ron and Marie have been more than generous to have her in their home. Ron says it has been a privilege to have Mom with them. We appreciate Ron and Marie more than words can hold. But now it is time for Mom to make her final move to a new residence.

About three years ago, Mom decided it was time to quit driving. She handed over her car keys without being asked for them. Of course, we had all been ever so subliminally hinting to her for quite a while that it would be a good idea to let the driving part of her life be done, for the safety of everyone involved. And then one day, out of the blue, she came up with the idea to give up her car keys. It was HER idea. Wink. wink.

That’s what’s been happening with this move. We’ve all hinted and hinted to her for a few months that it’s time for this change, and then VOILA! Suddenly, Mom had this brilliant idea that she should move into the care center. It was completely HER idea.

She’s been a good sport through her last couple of years of health adventures, although things have been bumpy at times– as is to be expected. She has missed her house. She has missed her Delta friends and family, and she is eager to reacquaint herself with her Delta people now. (But she will always be a bit lost in Delta without Dad, and without her best friend, Peggy Crane.) I know most of you are part of the herd o’ folks she has missed.

Give Mom some time to get adjusted in her new digs, and then feel free to give her a visit for a few minutes every now and again, if you so desire. You know how she loves to chat with her friends. You’ll most likely need to introduce yourself to her at first, but she’ll know who you are after that. She turned 88 last week, so she has 88 years worth of friends and family to recall, and that’s a lot of names and faces to keep straight.

She’s still spunky and irreverent in her playful way. And what makes our family happy is that she still enjoys her life. She exudes gratitude for her blessings– which, of course, she thinks of as all of us. Isn’t that a nice thought? My mom, Helen A. Wright, thinks of you as one of her life’s blessings.

And now, Suzanne’s going to drive us home to Centerville while I cry and wonder if we did the right thing for Mom. Which we did. But still…

Hardest. Day. Ever.

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People Ask How It’s Looking

Spooky Tie o’ the Day and I give you an up-close peek at my scar’s current state of being. People who know I had my mid-summer surgery often ask to see my resulting scar– and not just family or super-close friends. I’m fine with showing anybody how it’s doing. But I find it so interesting that they want to see the thing, and that they dare ask to gaze upon it.

And it’s not like folks want to see it just once. They ask to see it all the time, which is exactly why I’ve posted photos of it occasionally. Apparently, people want to inspect it in all of its various stages of healing. They have no hesitation about asking to see a part of my body I would never otherwise show to the masses. I’ve thought about maybe cutting a hole in each of my shirts where the scar would be visible, so people could look at it without having to ask if they can see it. They wouldn’t have to talk to me at all in order to be able to behold it. They might even prefer seeing it without having to converse with me.

Sometimes people ask if they can touch my scar. Go for it, I tell ’em. It all reminds me of how people dare ask to feel the belly of a visibly pregnant woman they know. There are very few situations in our culture in which it is acceptable to ask to see or touch people’s body parts. And, of course, that’s generally a good thing.

As I said, I’m happy to show my scar to those who are curious to see it. And if they want to touch it, more power to ’em. I’d like to say that I won’t pull up my shirt to anyone while I’m in a church, but I did do that a number of times in the Oak City church at my Aunt Arlene’s funeral. I probably wouldn’t do it in Sacrament Meeting though– unless someone incredibly important to me asked to see and/or touch it. What can I say? I aim to please.

BTW   I’m making a list o’ possible names for my scar. Feel free to offer suggestions. TIE O’ THE DAY hasn’t had a contest for months, so if I end up choosing one of the names you suggest, you will be the winner of a Christmas-themed bow tie. (Max J. Tucker, you are disqualified from entering this contest, and you know exactly why.)

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My Message Is True

I’ve been a missionary for all things tie for most of my decades, and one of the tie myths I most have to dispel is the idea that the tie way of life is reserved for the male of the species only. Not true, my friends. Bow Tie o’ the Day is further proof that ties of any kind are good for each human being who walks the planet. Train up a child in the Bow Tie way they should go: and when they are old, they will not depart from Bow Ties. Or any other type of tie. 😁

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I Am A Woman Of Many Moods. Duh!

Bow Tie o’ the Day is one of my faves. Any bow tie with a paisley theme is always going to have a special place in my tie-wearin’ heart.

This morning, I’m in a mood I can only describe as “a thinkin’ ’bout mood.” And here is where my “thinking’ ’bout” has led me: I’ve had it with division. I’ve had it with we/they and us/them. We’re all God’s children, or none of us are. If one single human being loses, we all lose. A single individual’s loss diminishes us all. We are linked to everyone else on the planet.

Okay. My tiny, bigly rant ends there. But here I repost a poem by Miller Williams. It’s about feeling superior. It’s about “us” pretending we’re not “them.”

COMPASSION

Have compassion for everyone you meet/ even if they don’t want it. What seems conceit,/ bad manners, or cynicism is always a sign/ of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen./ You do not know what wars are going on/ down there where the spirit meets the bone./

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I’ll Never Be In The Doghouse Again

The star Neckwear o’ the Day is the Wild Rag o’ Last Evening worn by Suzanne’s nephew, Colton. He’s our very own The Ultimate SewingBox Assembler. Colton made it clear to me that wild rags are not scarves, and to refer to them as such is out-and-out wrong. I will refrain from even trying to figure out the difference between the two.

Ain’t Colton cute? Don’t you just wanna hug him? You can see his cute butt in one of these photos, also. It’s worth a look-see. Colton was obviously game to be in this pic, but he felt bad he didn’t have his signature cowboy hat with him. A sweaty work hat looks good on him, too.

Although The Ultimate SewingBox instructions said the project required approximately 3 hours to put it together, it took over 5. And that was with Suzanne assisting Colton after she got home from work. If Colton can’t complete what somebody says is a 3-hour task in 3 hours, it isn’t a 3-hour task. That man can work. That man is efficient.

So here is The Ultimate SewingBox, although I’m sure it won’t be the last time I post about it. It takes up one entire living room wall when it’s opened up. It’s kind of its own little room. It is certainly bigly-er than either of us imagined it would be. You can get an idea how large this thing is when you see Colton standing next to it. He is 6 ft. 15 inches tall.

As I’ve said, some people have a fireplace as the focal point of their living room. This is now what we have. I told Suzanne I will be happy if The Ultimate SewingBox is always open, taking up a pretty bigly chunk o’ the living room. Her  happiness is my happiness.

And now, I have a lifetime pass on her fussing about anything I do. She’s that hyped up about having The Ultimate SewingBox in her possession. From now on, I can do no wrong.

Suzanne hasn’t yet inserted all of The Ultimate SewingBox’s bins and trays. That’ll take up an evening. And then filling each container after they’re in place will take up the weekend. Suzanne will be thrilled to have to figure out what she wants to put in it. She will definitely have to carefully choose The Ultimate SewingBox supplies from her overflowing craft room. I could buy her one of these for the other three living room walls, and they still wouldn’t be able to hold her hoard o’ sewing stuff. (I know. I’m one to talk. I have The Tie Room.)

Suzanne seems deeply pleased with her new toy. In fact, even before it was completely put together, I saw her literally petting it. And her cheeks were high with giddiness. Best. Money. I. Ever. Spent.

If you wanna see The Ultimate SewingBox in action, here’s the link you wanna check out:

https://youtu.be/fRisNZfdsLs