Month: April 2020

Posted on

I Don’t Talk About It Much

Suzanne and I spent the late 80’s and the whole 90’s many states away from each other, taking a time-out. Suffice it to say, the split was all my fault. But the longer we were apart, the clearer it became to both of us that we were meant to be together.

That time apart also brought kids into our separate lives. Suzanne had Rowan late in our time-out, but I had walked immediately into a life with a two-year-old named Devon (and his bio mom). For the next dozen years, I was Devon’s MomHelen. For most of those years I was his primary parent, because my graduate school and teaching schedules were flexible. I loved that boy, and the three of us had a mostly successful run as a family unit.

But I was falling apart. I had been running from the fact that I was bipolar, so I wasn’t getting help in that regard. My job teaching middle school in Baltimore had left me literally bruised almost daily, and bloody all too often—resulting in me developing an unpleasant case of PTSD which kept me from sleeping for years. I was beginning to over-like my beer too.

I was an outward success, but I was a mess at taking care of me. My collapse was coming. When Devon was 15, I had a bigly decision to make, and it would be the most difficult decision of my entire life. What could I do to be the parent he needed me to be, before I completely imploded? The answer was easy to figure out. The answer was also nearly impossible for me to actually do. I had to go. I had to leave him in his mother’s capable hands. He didn’t need me crashing into smithereens in the house, or even anywhere in the same zip code.

Such a tough thing. The beginning of reclaiming my sanity required me to walk away from everything I had and everything I was. I had to let go of ego and pride, and simply do the right thing for Devon. The best parenting move I could make for Devon at that time was to leave him in a situation that improved the second my bipolarity and I walked out of it. I did the right, hard thing for him, and It broke my heart.

I left Maryland and came back to Utah in 2000, where the endless sky helped heal me. I found the right bipolar medications. I re-found Suzanne. I quit drinking. I learned how to manage my PTSD. And today, April 16, 2020, the No Tie o’ the Day Devon turns 35. (Merry birthday, my man!) He graduated from Texas A&M. He’s a high-end landscape architect. As an adult, he has lived and worked in Texas, Italy, and Iowa. He shares his life with someone he loves. I’m so sweetly proud of him from afar.

Posted on

Pandemic, On Parade

The Saturday before Pandemic Easter, I was feeling like we should at least be in the vicinity of children celebrating the holiday. I texted Suzanne’s niece, asking if she thought her boys would get a kick out of us doing a one-float, drive-by parade on Easter afternoon. She was certain they would. In fact, when I crawled out of bed Easter morning, I got a text from her before I had both eyes open. Her text said, “First words out of Liam’s mouth today, ‘I’m so excited for my parade today!'” The pressure was on!

Skitter wore her pink halter top and her patriotic Tie o’ the Day, as well as her trademark cowboy hat. I wore my Tyvek duds and a Bow Tie o’ the Day, so I could be the Pandemic Easter Bunny. I broke out a dozen packages of marshmallow Peeps I bought on clearance last Easter, which I’ve been saving—cuz last year a brilliant idea came over me to decorate a vehicle with said Peeps for Easter weekend, just for the heck of it.

Suzanne and I attached the Peeps to our parade “float” as well as we could. It turns out that the old Peeps had dried out too much, and fresh Peeps are too gooey to cut. We had to practically rip open the Peeps to make them stickable. This was my first try at Peep-ing a vehicle, and I will admit that by the time we could get the Peeps to stay stuck on the car, they didn’t even resemble the Peeps they really were. The multitude of colors was purty, though. We had a parade to produce, so we went with what we had.

It was beautiful, but cold outside, so we didn’t stay at the boys’ yard long. The boys seemed to enjoy our confusing tiny parade. They got an Easter basket from Skitter, and their parents got an Easter egg filled with toilet paper. We got to see their family, but without hugs. Mission accomplished, but without hugs.

I’ll certainly do more Peep experimenting between now and next year, so I can improve the final “parade float” look. I will make my idea work. I am proud to report that most of the dismembered Peeps stuck to the car all the way home on I-15. Some of the Peep parts even stuck through two different car washes.

Posted on

Pandemic Easter Discovery

I was scrolling through my Pandemic Easter parade photos, and it dawned on me: Skitter is obviously a look-alike, pose-alike descendant of the infamous Rubber Chicken comedy prop—right down to the wearing o’ neckwear and the splaying o’ the toes. (Pandemic parade post and more photos just ahead, I promise.)

Posted on

Skitter’s Weird Easter Fear

Add plastic Easter eggs to Skitter’s List o’ Fears. The Pandemic Easter Bunny put two bigly eggs in one of Skitter’s beds, and The Skit was sore afraid. She immediately voted to social distance the eggs from her bed, although she was a bit more able to enjoy them once it was clear The Pandemic Easter Bunny had filled the eggs with rolls of toilet paper. (That’s what the Pandemic Bunny brought Suzanne.) Skitter relaxed just enough to put on her spring-y, plaid Easter Tie o’ the Day, as she nervously wondered exactly when I was going to finally remove the eggs—with this year’s coveted toilet paper treasure—from her personal space. When I extracted the plastic eggs from her little nest, she then got excited for the Easter parade we were scheduled to create later in the day. Yeah, that Easter story is next up.

Posted on

I Love DICK’S MARKET

When I’m out in the world doing a now-rare errand like buying groceries, I usually wear a Bow Tie o’ the Day from my wood bow ties collection. The wood creatures are much easier to disinfect when I get home than fabric bow ties.

I learned something at the store today. I learned that my Face ID on my phone doesn’t work when I’m wearing my pandemic mask. Duh! Luckily, I was able to remember the code to open my phone. I also learned my phone still responds to touch if I’m wearing latex gloves— if they’re properly warmed by my digits.

I am not a germaphobe. I am not frantic about COVID-19. However, I have noticed I handle the whole grocery shopping task differently right now. COVID-19 doesn’t scare me, mostly because I take it seriously. I guess I would say I am cautious. I wear latex gloves and my Suzanne-made mask while I’m in the grocery store. I wear long sleeves and pants. I carry a bigly tarp-fabric shopping bag over my shoulder to hold my items, so I don’t have to use a shopping cart. I make sure my bag doesn’t ever touch the floor. I use the self-checkout, so I’m in control of what touches what. When I leave the store, I keep my bag o’ food slung over my shoulder, and I put my used gloves in the garbage can outside the store. I then lift my vehicle’s hatch and slide the bag—without touching the bag’s handle—off my shoulder and into the car.

After I get home, I leave my shopping bag in the garage. It isn’t allowed in the house for the time being, even though I wipe it down with Clorox wipes. I then wipe down each grocery item individually before finally bringing the goods into the house. I also leave my coat, mask, and shoes in the garage. I have been known to change into clean clothes in the garage. I certainly do more laundry than I’ve done since Rowan was a child and lived at home.

The washing o’ the hands and the use of hand sanitizer occur all throughout this process, whenever possible. My detailed routine makes me feel comfortable in the pandemic. All in all, the new fuss doesn’t add much time to my errand, but it makes me feel just a tad better about this craziness.

If your cupboards are anything like mine, you probably already had enough food in your house to last for a month, long before the pandemic showed up. If I were unreasonably askeered and paranoid about COVID-19, I wouldn’t go grocery shopping at all cuz we could get by. I think my masky, glove-y caution is merely a healthy respect for how devastating COVID-19 has the potential to be—if even a few of us slack in our hand-washing and social-distancing. I’m being extra careful, but I’m not letting a stoopid virus stop me from living my life or from buying fresh bread.

I suppose you could say that donning my mask and latex gloves at DICK’S MARKET means I’m just dressing appropriately and fashionably for the current occasion—which is exactly what I try to do every day of my life. 🎩 🕶👔 👜

BTW Yes, I am wearing my hearing aid as an earring in this photo.

Posted on

Teaching Basic Life Skills

In our little home school for quarantined neckwear, Skitter is my aide for all instruction. She is also our school’s mascot. The Skit wears many hats around here—literally and figuratively. Today, we’re learning about the bigly clock on the wall and how to tell time. Telling time is one of Skitter’s finely honed skills. Sort of. She knows 11 AM and 7 PM. She can tell those two times without even looking at the clock, because those are her chewy treat times. She knows those two times deep in her skinny bones, as well as her tummy. However, once when Skitter was helping me teach a lesson, I had to caution her about not flaunting her vast knowledge with our younger ties who do not yet know as many facts— nor as much about the ways of the world— as her mature canine brain does. Intimidating the young neckwear with her intellect would make Skitter a bully, and I will not allow bullies to run rampant on my watch. Skitter wasn’t aware she was being a meanie until I explained the concepts of pride and humility to her. She immediately shaped up, having no desire to be haughty and snotty to her lesser-educated tie pals. Seriously, I cannot abide liars or cheats or thieves, but there is an extra dank and craggy place in Hell for bullies—in my version of Hell, anyway.

Posted on

The Pandemic Goes On

I was so pleasantly surprised to find these 3 photos from exactly 2 years ago pop up in my photo feed yesterday. Hearts Bow Tie o’ That Day is one of my faves, as are my colored glasses Cufflinks o’ That Day. And I’m confident seeing a double rainbow (or at least a picture thereof) is something we all could use right about now, so I offer these pix as confirmation that double rainbows can happen to us when they are needed.

Pandemics are—by definition—not hope-filled times, but they do eventually pass. There is an end to them. I’m not a believer in a grand Pot o’ Gold out there somewhere just waiting for me to find it. Nope. These days, I’d settle for an aimless drive in my beat-up truck and a bigly Pot o’ Normal.

Posted on

A Necktie Scamp

Tie o’ the Day descends the stairs, pretending to be a Slinky! Sing the old television ad song with me: “What walks down stairs, alone or in pairs, and makes a slinkity sound? A spring, a spring, a marvelous thing! Everyone knows it’s Slinky. It’s Slinky, it’s Slinky. For fun, it’s a wonderful toy! It’s Slinky, it’s Slinky! It’s fun for a girl or a boy!” Or for a tie, in TIE O’ THE DAY’s case. And now I sincerely apologize to you for getting the Slinky jingle stuck in your head.

Posted on

One Last (I Think) Mask

I didn’t post this pic with a bunch of others I posted when I was wearing this Tie o’ the Day a few days back. My “mask” here is a couple of foil, novelty bow ties. When I ran across this snapshot this morning, I realized this is how I would look if I were The Joker.