Month: February 2023

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A Visit With Mom, During Bruce Week: Part Two

Whenever we get inside the front doors of Millard Care and Rehab, Skitter prances her way to Mom’s room. She doesn’t dilly-dally. She makes a beeline for Mom. When Mom notices us at her door, she is quick to say, “Hi, Skitter! What are you doing here?” (To heck with me or Suzanne. Skitter is Mom’s favorite by a mile. I don’t blame her.) Skitter then leaps up on Mom’s bed, and snuggles as close to Mom as she can get—where she remains for the duration of our visits. During our last couple of visits, Mom has sort of forgotten Skitter was by her side. In fact, she almost ignored Skitter once Skitter got up on her bed—to the point that Suzanne and I have been extra worried about Mom’s state of mind. But when we visited Mom a few days ago, Mom was back to her old Skitter-petting self. They were inseparable. Whew! When it was time for us to leave, Skitter would not get off the bed, even when Mom did. Suzanne had to physically remove The Skit from Mom’s space.

Suzanne’s leg is a focal point of one of these photos for a real reason. I thought I should document Suzanne elevating her leg on Mom’s bed because her foot was swollen. She and Mom had a dandy time commiserating about the woes of their swollen feet. What a couple of exciting broads I was hanging out with! For the record, my feet don’t swell. Except for that time when I was 16 and discovered I was suddenly allergic to bee stings—and at the old Delta hospital, the nurses had to cut my new Nikes off my feet because all my appendages were swollen up like I was auditioning to be the Hulk in a movie. Or Popeye with his spinach-ed arms.

During our visit with Mom, we laughed so much that I can’t remember what silly thing Mom was laughing about so hard she covered her mouth as if pretending she didn’t say something irreverent. But isn’t that a great picture of Mom looking like the mischievous dame she is? She can say anything she wants, and she gets away with everything she says because she’s so Old Gangsta Old Lady about it. And also because what she says is usually both funny and dead-on about the topic being discussed. BTW Check out how Mom is not wearing her purple housecoat for the first time in a long while. And note her bigly flower ring and brooch. She was stylin.’ She says she couldn’t get her earrings on that day.

For my part, I wore my pig earrings for the visit because Mom likes to see them so much. I wore my bee socks for her, too. She mentioned many times how much she liked my brand spankin’ new bejeweled Bow Tie o’ the Day. Mom does love to see the bling! We took her some shrimp and some sugary treats, too. It was all for Mom. It always is.

FYI The weather is not looking good for our scheduled flight from SLC to Portland in the morning. To that news, I say, ” &*+($^#@!*^~#^@$#^^&!!!” That mess o’ symbols was my silent swearing. Rest assured, those words are not silent in my head! 😡

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A Visit With Mom, During Bruce Week: Part One

I wanted to spend a few hours with Mom before we left on our quick trip to Portland this week, so we jumped in Abra the Maverick over the weekend and drove to my beloved Deltabama. (To be honest, I think I love my hometown more than it loves me.) Mom is not just a cool person—she is a wonders-of-the-world vacation destination. Spending even a tiny amount of time with her is a rejuvenating experience, even though her mind is not as steady or accurate as it once was. She has one of those rare spirits that remains optimistic at all times. Her compassion and fun spills over onto those around her. It doesn’t matter who you are—Mom loves the real you. Mom has always been a come-as-you-are kind of woman. Oh, don’t be fooled: she sees your mistakes and imperfections. But she sees that you are so much more than your worst qualities. She loves you even when you struggle to be better. She loves you because you try to do better. I’ll write more about our visit in this afternoon’s post.

I’m busy getting ready for our Portland trip to see Bruce Springsteen in concert on Saturday. We’re supposed to fly out tomorrow, but SLC is about to be hit by a major snowstorm later today and tomorrow, and I’m betting our morning flight is going to be delayed or canceled. I’ll keep you updated. Must. Not. Miss. Bruce!

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Finally Gonna See The Boss

This photo of me and Rowan was taken when we were still living in Ogden, about 15 years ago. We were both growing out our hair, which we eventually chopped off and donated to Locks of Love—to be made into wigs for kids with cancer who’ve lost their hair because of chemo treatments. I re-post the pictures because I have always referred to them as “my Bruce pics with Rowan” since they’re vaguely reminiscent of the cover of Bruce Springsteen’s album, BORN IN THE USA.In less than a week, Suzanne and I will be belted in our seats on a plane headed to Portland, OR. We are going there so I can finally see my longtime songwriter-throb, Bruce Springsteen, in concert. His band, The E Street Band, will be backing him, too, minus The Big Man, the late Clarence Clemons—whose masterfully played saxophone made the 14-year-old me hold my breath more than once when I first listened to the BORN TO RUN cassette tape I found abandoned in the kitchen junk drawer of my kidhood. As far as concerts go, I have seen them all. At least, all the bands I’ve wanted to see—except Bruce. When we are in Portland, that will finally change. In terms of music, my unofficial Concert Bucket List will be completed. Oh, I certainly won’t be done attending concerts. There just won’t be any more music artists I’ve gotta see in concert so I can die in peace—with my life’s spectacular soundtrack stuck in my head.💿

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Breakfast O’ Champions?

Tie o’ the Day joined me for breakfast this morning. Eggs didn’t sound good. Even bacon didn’t get my vote. Nope, I started off my day by eating some “spotted dick”—which is apparently a bready pudding, dotted with raisins. I am here to tell you this: trying something once is more than sufficient for some things. The spotted dick wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t really my cup of tea. It did taste much better after I spooned a bigly dollop of vanilla ice cream on top.🍽🤡

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Out On The Town For Valentine’s Day

I found the perfect Valentine’s Day Tie o’ the Day for me: a Nicole Miller necktie full of paisley hearts. We left Skitter home while we went to dinner last night. The poor thing sat around the house all by herself, wearing her very own lipstick-and-lips Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. Meanwhile, Suzanne and I went to dinner at the Oasis Cafe in downtown SLC. We had a groove-tastic conversation—as we always do. (The food rated only a “meh” review from me, so I doubt we’ll revisit the place.) I, of course, wore my heart-covered, Suzanne-made cape on our evening outing. I did manage to see someone else sporting a different type of eye-catching cape at the restaurant, as well. I had to be low-key to take this photo of the other cape, and I apologize for not being able to get close enough to it to find out what it was made of. But believe me, its feather-like, petal-like look was stunning. However, I still prefer my own cape, to be sure. It flies me around the sky oh-so very well.

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Because Mom

I sat down this morning to write a TIE O’ THE DAY post about our evening out for Valentine’s Day, when this photo from 10 years ago popped up in my Facebook Memories. Because it stars the fabulous and fashionable cola-drinking dame otherwise known as my mother, there is no way in heck I’m not re-posting it here for her fans to see. In these incomprehensible times of division and daily lunatic conspiracy theories, I think we could all benefit from a Big Helen ambiance whenever we can get it. She’s just so darn content with who she is. Chill out like Mom, folks. 🥤🍪🌻👑😎

FYI That’s the late Araby, the dog of my life, swooning at Mom’s feet. Even dogs worship Mom.

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A ValenTIE, A Poem

Heart-breaker Tie o’ the Day is a reminder that love has its pains. This poem, written by the American poet, Jane Kenyon, is a love poem about an ordinary day filled with ordinary events—and how these simple things become extraordinary when spent in the company of one’s beloved, especially when time is running out. Kenyon wrote the poem while she was fighting a losing battle with cancer almost thirty years ago. The poem speaks to me. I hope it speaks to you. Love on, my friends.💝💝💘

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Smooches On A Happy Face, Art On Shoes

This is kissy-face Tie o’ the Day’s first venture out of the Tie Room and into the public eye. It’s a proper piece o’ neckwear for Valentine’s Day Eve. It is also a reminder to me of all the times I have walked around with similar kiss evidence on my face—having forgotten it was there before I left the house. Fortunately, that kind of social faux pas is the kind of thing strangers find amusing even as they gently let me know I’ve got lipstick on my cheek. People who know me don’t give me a heads-up about a set of lipstick lips on my face because they assume I left it there on purpose. They assume it’s just another fashion and/or political statement from yours truly. Nah, I just get busy thinking or working on something and I forget the lip-marks are there for all to see. Needless to say, I know I am loved and wanted every day.

Also, after many years of enjoying wearing my collection of Sloggers garden shoes almost every day and in every situation, I woke up one morning a month ago and wanted new shoes. I haven’t bought new shoes for years and years, but my Sloggers weren’t striking my style bell any longer. They had a good run, but wanted to retire. I’m turning over a new shoe leaf. Doc Martens to the rescue. I’ve had some before—in my younger days—and I have always thought fondly of them. So I hopped onto the Dr. Martens website and I found a pair or two (or five) of shoes which fit my style vibe. They pair well with neckwear of any type. The Doc Martens shoes I’m wearing in this selfie are dang dandy. When I’m in them, I’m wearing art on my feet. This design is based on a section of Georges Seurat’s painting, BATHERS AT ASNIERES. My only regret about these fab shoes is that the shoemaker did not use the section of Seurat’s painting with the red dog in it. Putting that dog on the shoes is the only thing which could have improved on this pair.👞🐕

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Got Happy? Got Heart?

[I don’t remember writing this. When I read this old TIE O’ THE DAY post which showed up on my Facebook Memories this morning, it was as if I were reading something written by someone else. After reading it, I am pleased to say that I do concur with its message. I agree with everything this author has to say.👍😍]

That is one bigly Post-it Note heart! I thought it best to wear it only for the selfie. Driving while wearing it would probably result in mayhem and tragedy. Let’s see… I’d be pulled over and cited for DWP. Driving While Post-it-ed.

Jumbo Bow Tie o’ the Day is one of my favorites. Actually, I’m fond of jumbo-size bow ties, period. They give off such happy vibes. And we are here to be happy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m not saying happiness isn’t work. No, it’s something you have work toward. The happiness a bow tie can give is a fleeting feeling. But if you want real happiness, you have to mostly create it. It’s not going to knock on your door, fully-formed, and say, “I’m happiness, and I’m here to serve you!”

I think we get distracted by looking to/at others to find happiness. We think: “They seem happy. What do they have that I don’t? I need to get what they have, and then I’ll be happy.” It doesn’t work that way. Your happiness is singular to you. It won’t look like anyone else’s. It is authentic to you, and you only. It is your job to figure out what your happiness will look like. Ignore other people’s ideas of happiness. Mind your own happiness business.

If you find somebody (a spouse, partner, etc.) whose happiness pieces fit with your happiness pieces, you have found a powerful and rare thing. Your happiness inventory will not be exactly the same as the person’s you mesh with. But what would be the fun of that? Do you really want to be married to a clone of yourself? Another person isn’t your happiness. Your chosen person can share in your happiness, just as you can share in theirs. You are a part of each other’s happiness, not the whole of it. Let me make this clear: NEITHER A MATERIAL OBJECT NOR A PERSON “MAKES” YOU HAPPY. You decide to be happy. You make a plan and work to achieve it. It’s an attitude.

Living with another person gives you daily opportunities to express your happiness. You can care for and spoil them with whatever happiness you decide to share. Take the risk to spread your joy around the metaphorical house. You’ll get hurt sometimes, even in the best of relationships. But so what? Remember, you’ll hurt your beloved too. You won’t mean to, but you will. Unless you’re perfect. Be kind. Be brave.

To be happy in a relationship doesn’t mean you feel jolly every minute. You can be happy, yet experience sorrow, anger, frustration, and every other emotion. Real happiness is not an emotion. Happiness is a state of your soul, not a mood.

If you make a habit of working to achieve true happiness, you can weather the relationship storms you will encounter—more easily and more courageously. This doesn’t sound like it makes sense, but I promise it does: When you are in the storm of yourself—when you are aching—muster your courage and every power in your heart to choose your happiness. Open up your happy heart just a bit wider. Share just a little more. Give. And then rain your happiness down on you and your beloved. Take the risk to love your beloved—again and again, day after day, second upon second. Your relationship will grow stronger. Your soul will thank you.

And one more bigly note: Selfishness does not grow happiness. Trying to get everything you want, and always trying to get your way, is as far from happiness as you can get.

This has been yet another bossy sermon. Just sayin.’

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An Academy Awards Gown For Me?

This afternoon’s Tie o’ the Day comes in the form of a dickie/ruffle/tie/brooch thingamafashion. I think this possible Oscars red carpet dress might garner its own award for how it is apparently a perfect dress for going out to walk your peacock. It looks like a breeze to wear! Pun intended. 👗👠