Right after college, I briefly considered taking a job with a hoity-toity advertising company (whose name I now forget) in Chicago. The salary was sweet, and Chicago would have been mine for the taking. I was sure I was full of brilliant advertising ideas. But, ultimately, I wanted to be a poet, a storyteller—a real writer—so I decided to be poor and go to graduate school at the University of Utah. Which I did. And I am—poor and a writer, I mean. I do, however, still get ideas for creating and/or marketing products. Why am I telling you all this ancient information about a job I turned down? Puzzle pieces Bow Tie o’ the Day is in search of the answer to that same puzzling question. Well, it has to do with a product idea I cannot quit pondering. How has no one made this happen yet? I guarantee it would be a profitable venture. It comes down to this:
The company that makes Head & Shoulders shampoo should market a body wash called Knees & Toes? It’s a no-brainer. You could market it to adults and kids. The logical commercial jingle is already written and in the public domain. It’s sung wherever you find a toddler learning about body parts. The song gets easily stuck in your head, which is exactly what advertising tries to do. Admit it: the song is stuck in your head, even as you read this. Somebody pay me. Just sayin.’ 👤
I have been accused of being a wee bit infatuated with paisley. I used to deny I had any such propensity—until Suzanne bought us some paisley sheets. Much to my dismay, I discovered I now have trouble sleeping every night the paisley sheets are not on the bed. Hi. My name’s Helen, and I’m a paisleyholic.
I got a most unusual phone call early one morning last week, and it was from Suzanne. She had been in her office for about 20 minutes when she called. My phone announced who was calling me, and as I searched the living room for where I had set down my ringing gadget, I figured Suzanne was probably calling me to say she’d left something home that she needed me to bring to her office. Suzanne forgetting something she needs is a rare happening, but it has happened on occasion. No bigly deal. Having found my phone, I answered it. I heard breathing, but no words. After a few moments, I heard mumbling that vaguely sounded like it came from Suzanne. She spoke in slow motion. It sounded like she was drunk—2 or 3 times over. Sloshed Suzanne. But how could that be? It was a tad after 8:00 AM, and she had seemed just fine when she left the house only a half hour before. With tortoise-like slowness and inebriated-sounding slurring, Suzanne said, “Will you go upstairs and check to see if I took my night medication instead of my morning medication?” I checked out her medication organizer and, sure enough, her morning meds for the day were still there. She had, in fact, taken her night meds instead. The PM meds had an obvious soporific effect on Suzanne—which is fitting for bedtime, but not for the start of the work day. I told Suzanne she would not be driving home, but that I would come fetch her from work immediately. By the time I got to her office about 15 minutes later, Suzanne was unable to walk on her own. Two of her colleagues had to help her get downstairs and out of the building. Likewise, it took them both to get her propped upright in my truck. Suzanne seemed every bit the drunkard. She tried to speak as I drove homeward, but I couldn’t understand most of what she slurred on and on about. I did understand her ranting at the creeping UTA bus in front of us as it was going 10 mph below the speed limit for no reason at all. (I was ranting the same rant in my head.) I got her home and up the stairs. I managed to pull off her boots and help her finagle her drowsy bones into the bed—where she slept and snored for the rest of the day. When Suzanne woke up, everything was back to normal—except it was almost bedtime, which meant it was almost time for her to take her night meds again.
If I get my way, Suzanne will alter her meds logistics, so the AM and PM meds are no longer in the same pill organizer or even in the same room. You live, you learn. Suzanne’s meds incident is now firmly in the past—no harm, no foul—and we find it merely an amusing anecdote from the little “book” we’re living, which we like to call THE CHRONICLES O’ HELANNE (“Helanne” is our self-designated “famous couple name,” like Bennifer or Brangelina). Suzanne’s meds faux pas was simply a could-have-been-worse occurrence neither one of us wishes to be part of again. You think I’m a circus to live with? Clearly, living with Suzanne is never boring either. I mean—she made an entertaining not-drunk drunk without even being conscious she was putting on a show. And it was a riot.
FYI When I see a cap such as this, I expect to see a pompom. A hat of this ilk is incomplete without the jaunty flair of a poof ball. A pompom is this hat’s punctuation mark.
Tie o’ the Day is my version of a 21-doughnut salute to the crafty Suzanne, who crocheted me this amazing new hat one evening. I’m smitten by it, which means you’ll be seeing it again and again. It’s double thick—for those mega-chilly days when the cold stabs me to the bone. Suzanne is my hero, and she gallantly treats me like I’m her hero. At least one of us is a very lucky human being, and I’m positive it’s me. Note to self: Make it a point to thank Suzanne each day for all the bigly and little-ly things she does to make my life incredible. I suggest that if you’ve got people who treat you like you are the most magnificent creation on the planet, let them see your gratitude now. We’re only here temporarily. 🐝🦋
In my position as Chief Fashion Goddess here at TIE O’ THE DAY, I am often consulted about topics of style and attire. Recently, I was asked if a person can ever go overboard by wearing too much peacock garb at one time. My answer is a resounding, “No! It is not humanly possible to wear an overabundance of peacock paraphernalia. Too much is never enough—where the peacock theme is concerned.” These selfies are my proof. I mean—really, does it look like I’m overly peacocked? Do I look like a lunatic? Do I appear to be off my clothing rocker? Of course not. I look like the redneck poet that I am. 😜🤡
FYI My peacock Bow Tie o’ the Day was made with genuine peacock feathers.
Ties o’ the Day are all over the newest puzzle in our collection. Suzanne’s niece, Rachel, gifted the puzzle to me recently. Surprise gifts out of nowhere are important. It is always nice to be reminded someone knows exactly who you are and what you are all about. It is reassuring to know you are well regarded by a few folks in this non-stop, crazy life. Rachel knows I’m ties. I am extra amazed that she took the time to find me this puzzle treasure right now because she has been busy preparing for the birth of her third kid—which finally came to pass last night. Here he is, starring in his first TIE O’ THE DAY appearance—the one, the only, the handsome, the swaddled: Zeke. Zeke is the eagerly anticipated baby brother to Liam and Lukas. I have already picked out a bow tie and necktie with which to welcome Zeke to the planet. They are gift-wrapped with a tube of Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. Zeke will find these items come in plenty handy in this world. It is always a plus to present oneself fashionably, as well as to be free from diaper rash. 👔
Yesterday, Skitter and I packed our various water bottles into the truck and headed south to spend some time with Mom. It was a no-brainer for me when it came to choosing Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. The tie had to be Mona Lisa—a tie o’ beauty for a visit with my beautiful mother. Skitter and I were surprised to find Mom wasn’t wearing any earrings. It’s been quite a long while since we’ve seen her ears naked. She also didn’t mention my earrings, which she always does. She did mention liking Skitter’s tie a number of times. Of course, she remarked about Mona throughout the visit. She also made a bigly deal about liking the taco socks I was wearing. Mom told me she is content with not doing much anymore. She said, “All my life I did everything, all the time.” She took a long pause, looked into my eyes, and said, “But not all of me is here anymore. Do you know what I mean?” I told her I knew. I did not tell her how many years I’ve already missed so much of her. Nor did I tell her how she sometimes melts farther away from me, even as I am sitting right next to her. And I certainly didn’t tell her how helpless and ineffectual it makes me feel that there is not one damn thing I can do for her to make it stop. 🕯
I wasn’t a bit hungry this afternoon, but Suzanne had a hankering to eat bacon. Unfortunately, the only bacon we had in the house at the time was my bacon Tie o’ the Day. So, I changed out of my pajamas I planned to wear all day after having declared a Pajama Day for myself the minute I woke up this morning, with no intention to leave the house even to get the mail. I then spent a significant chunk of time and effort digging around in the Tie Room, in order to find the exact right piece of neckwear to wear in public while doing this errand. So then, I searched for, and found, my stray keys in a place where I have never, ever put them before. After 20 minutes of looking for my wallet, I finally located it in the back pocket of a pair of jeans which I had unintentionally kicked completely under the bed, so that the jeans were not even visible to the human eye. And finally, I trudged to the store—for the sole purpose of buying one, single, solitary package of bacon for Suzanne. After Suzanne cooked and ate the bacon I brought home, she said my single-item grocery trip was well worth it to her.🥓 Of course it was. To her. I aim to please.
