The Ties Multiply And Replenish The Tie Room

Wow! In the 4 years since TIE O’ THE DAY originally posted what is today’s FB memory, the Total Tie Tally of my all-things-tie collection has increased bigly. I estimate the current tabulation is somewhere around 2,000 neckties and 2,500 bow ties. That’s a lot o’ ties. And don’t forget: I also have ascots, cravats, and bolo ties, too. Hey, it sounds crazy even to me. But they make me so very happy. Read the re-post from 2018 below.

I’VE WONDERED ABOUT IT MYSELF

A couple of days ago, I wrote about how important asking questions is in our lives. Wendy Lowery promptly asked me a few. I will answer them all, but only one in this post.

Wendy made a query about how I got into the tie/bow tie thing. She wondered what big life experience got me hooked. Ties o’ the Day also wonder how this all came to be. What’s the origin of the burgeoning Tie Room and its inhabitants?

The honest answer to the totality of Wendy’s question is that I don’t know exactly how I got here. I know that as a kid, I was fascinated by ties. I looked forward to Sunday every week because church meetings offered up what seemed like an infinite number of ties for me to behold. (An occasional bow tie showed up in the pews, but only rarely.) Plus, it was the late 60’s and early 70’s, so the necktie designs were varied and often as wide as paperbacks. The fabrics were richly soft. They absolutely looked hip. And then at some point in my kidhood, I created a Halloween costume that required a bow tie. I don’t remember what the costume was, but I remember I liked wearing the bow tie. It felt like me. It felt like home. And I am serious about that.

Over the decades, I picked up a swell tie/bow tie here or there in my travels, if I felt like I could not live a fulfilled and clever life without it. About four years ago, I looked at my neckwear as it was doing absolutely nothing in the closet, and I thought, “Why the heck am I not wearing these grooverrific pieces all the time?” I had only twenty or so, but I began wearing them. They completed something in my soul, so I wanted others to see and appreciate their characteristics. People who saw me wearing them seemed to appreciate how they popped out from the norm. Bow ties, especially, really do make people smile. That’s when neckwear became my regular uniform—my trademark.

Of course, I had to expand my collection if I was going to wear neckwear each day. And then after I started writing the website/tblog/Facebook posts, a few folks requested I wear and post at least two per day. (BTW I call you faithful readers “tbloglodytes” since this is a “t”ie “blog”.) Gee, I was in Heaven when I realized I had to acquire even more neckwear to properly post twice per day. Although I yammer on and on about my adventures, the tblog really is all about sharing the ties.

As far as an actual count of my neckwear bodies goes, I refuse to count them. If I did, I would feel compelled to tell Suzanne the exact number, and that could cause me trouble. Even though she probably owns as many yards of fabric as I own ties/bow ties, I have determined it’s best for me to remain in the dark about the total tie tabulation, so I can keep her in the dark about it. Some things just sound all wrong when they are said out loud.

Since Suzanne’s currently where there is no internet/phone service and can’t see this post, I will tell you—if you promise to not tell her that I estimate the necktie count to be around 200. And the bow tie count is somewhere in the range of 900. I have an old wood library card catalog, where the bow ties sleep in the drawers, each dreaming mighty dreams of their turn starring in the tblog. Each morning, I hear them yell out,”ME! PICK ME!” as I enter the Tie Room to select my attire.

Some people fish. Some people craft. Some people restore classic cars. I show off ties of all ilks. In my opinion, it should be an Olympic sport. I win.

The Right Tie For The Given Day

Sometimes I am not in the mood to decide between two equally swell neckwear choices. Sometimes I am compelled to find a way to wear both. Fortunately for me, when I wake up in a necktie-plus-bolo-tie mood, I have the perfect Tie o’ the Day to satisfy my yearning. I have this wonder.

You’d be surprised how often I wake up in some type of double mood. I think it has something to do with my being bipolar, and not so much about any indecisiveness on my part, or any refusal to compromise my present vibes. Whatever the case, a tie like this is a perfect example of what makes my neckwear collection distinctively “me.” It is also what will make selling my collection more problematic when I decide it’s time to let the neckwear go. The right buyer will have to be remarkably like me, and what’s the likelihood I’ll ever find someone like that—besides me, of course?

My Jacket Was Sued

I was minding my own business watching Judge Judy, like I always do, when in comes the defendant, wearing what I call MY purple pimp jacket. I ran up the stairs to make sure the purple pimp jacket was still in my closet, and it was. When I knew my pimp jacket was safe and secure, and that this dude hadn’t burglarized my house to take it, I plopped back down in front of the television. I couldn’t help but cheer for the dapperly dressed man as he tried to explain his way out of the shenanigans that made him end up as a defendant on Judge Judy. Alas! He was shady, through-and-through. Even the bolo tie couldn’t save him. I felt especially bad for his jacket. It hadn’t been adopted into a good home like mine, clearly.

Anyhoo… The guilty dude has a swell jacket just like mine, but he has neither my Prince-Albert-in-a-can Bow Tie o’ the Day, nor does he have my 2002 Funeral Potatoes Olympic pin that I so proudly display here in my purple pimp jacket’s lapel. I win.

An Interesting Household Chore

My Hat o’ the Day is from a real place: Toad Suck, Arkansas—from one of our travel adventures about 18 months ago. We had a splendid time in Arkansas, and I honor the name of this place with a couple of hats, as is my touristy way. I wear the hat today as a symbol of how I feel about my day’s bigly household chore, because the chore kinda sucks. When I have occasion to do so, I vacuum and clean the couch and love seat. But the best vacuums in the world—pet vacuums, included—cannot suck up the Skitter fur that somehow gets caught in the furniture’s seams. My mission today—if I choose to accept it, and I do—is to tweeze the trapped fur from the seams of the living room furniture. Yes, I pluck my eyebrows AND my furniture—with different sets of tweezers, of course. As Glen Campbell and I always sing, “Such are the dreams of the everyday housewife…”🤡

FYI Bolo Tie o’ the Day is a good choice to wear when cleaning. It saves the “real” neckwear from possibly being harmed in the course of housework—while still allowing me to wear my signature clothing item.

Same House, Same Routine

The days of home isolation have been generally the same old, same old—especially since Suzanne has been working from home. My main uniform is pajamas. A clean pair of pajamas per day is all I really need. Thankfully, I’m stocked up on that clothing staple. I had a bolo vibe this afternoon, so roadrunner Bolo Tie o’ the Day was the thing I had to wear.

I’ve ventured out every couple of days to pick up a few grocery items, which is not a bigly trek for me, cuz DICK’S is less than two blocks away from our house. Suzanne has declined any venturing out of the house, until yesterday afternoon when she wanted to do a quick Walmart trip. I gave Suzanne rubber gloves and strict orders for her to touch nothing but the shopping cart. I wore rubber gloves to touch nothing but the products we were buying. That Walmart experience prompted me to institute a new law: SUZANNE IS NOT ALLOWED TO GO ANYWHERE UNTIL THE PANDEMIC IS LONG GONE!

Why is she condemned to the house? Normally, Suzanne is level-headed and level-emotioned at all times, but she had a freakout of gargantuan proportions in Walmart because not all customers were social distancing properly. There weren’t a lot of shoppers there at all, but it seemed like almost every shopper who showed up at that time wanted to cozy up to Suzanne. Suzanne didn’t scream or run like a chicken with its head cut off out of the store. No, she had the kind of bigly meltdown only I could see. Her rubber-gloved hands gripped the shopping cart so tightly I thought I’d have to buy a crowbar while we were there to pry her fingers from the cart. She had a look in her eyes which said, “My head has exploded thrice already, and I no longer know my own name. Get me out of here!” And then, as if to properly punctuate her feelings, there were her eyebrows. Suzanne’s eyebrows tell all to me. As long as Suzanne has eyebrows, she will never fool me about anything. Her eyebrows told me she was seriously scared of COVID-19. Never again on my watch, I decided. I will travel alone for the foreseeable future.

And The Housework Doesn’t Get Done

So far, the quarantined neckties, ascots, cravats, and bolos have minded their tie business. The home-stuck bow ties, however, have taken over the house. This afternoon, I went to throw in a load of laundry, and I discovered four Bow Ties o’ the Day had already commandeered the washing machine. The Bow Ties tell me it’s their pretend lake. They say they want a ski boat. Oh, the swimming and diving I’ve seen the little bows doing! They are skinny-dipping as they water-frolic, as well! I can’t blame them. I did the exact same things when I was a kid— just not in anybody’s washing machine.

Home At Last, Last Week

My Bolo/Tie o’ the Day combo is one of my fave clever ties. I thought it was quite a fitting choice to wear home from our Tucson/Las Vegas trip– Western theme and all. Sometimes I wear appropriate things. Sometimes, I can choose clothing and neckwear that “match” my situation. Not often, but on occasion. Most of the time it makes me feel oogy and itchy to blend in, or match, or fit in– whatever you wanna call it. It ain’t my true soul.

In this photo, I sit outside the SLC airport, waiting for the shuttle bus to take us to our faithful car at the end of our traipsing to and fro. My minutes-new saddle purse is in the orange bag. (I know, I know. I still owe y’all the purse story post. It’s coming.) I didn’t want to show off the purse in this particular photo, cuz its stunningness would have taken attention away from Tie. Tie deserves to shine in its own spotlight.

I’m quite proud of my magenta suitcase. It is designed to be extra lightweight, and I got it soon after my surgery so it would be a little easier for me to maneuver and heft through airports. Of course, on our first couple of post-surgery trips, Suzanne lugged everything for me anyway– so I guess it was nice of me to provide her a lighter suitcase in which to haul my stuff. I’m so thoughtful.

Although we have at least four concerts to attend in the next few months, they are in Utah. We don’t have any travel on our schedule for the near future. And I’m ok with that. I can drive down to visit Mom more often. And I’ve got stuff to do here. I do not consider myself a “real” homemaker (although I guess I am), but I am a homebody. Suzanne is too.

Suzanne sits in one of two spots in the house when she’s home. She sits in either the loveseat or in front of her Ultimate SewingBox. She’s pretty much a statue. She sits motionless, except for her hands. They never stop crocheting, sewing, piecing quilts together, etc. Her body sits still the entire evening, but she accomplishes oodles of craftiness with her paws. She creates constantly. She has a ton to show for her not moving.

I, on the other hand, flit and flutter around the house constantly. I call it “birding.” I “bird” around. I never light. I don’t know if I accomplish anything or not, but I haven’t yet heard Suzanne tell me– or tell anyone else– I’m a useless waste o’ space.

I really have nothing to show for all my Tasmanian-Devil-around-the-house movements. It is true that the ties are hung snuggly in their closets, and the bow ties are safely tucked into their card catalog drawers– a dozen per drawer. At the end of the day, the neckwear is always clean, fed, and put to bed. I guess that counts as doing something. And it is also true that I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 notebooks/journals full of poems and stories I’ve conjured up over the years. That should count as something. Also, I keep Skitter pottied. I guess that’s something that shows. Or it’s something that doesn’t show, if you wanna look at it that way.


We’re Just About Done With Vacay Posts

Bolo Tie o’ the Day got switched to a feather-design wood Bow Tie o’ the Day. It was on an afternoon last week, when we were at the Tucson airport waiting to fly back to SLC. We were informed our flight would be delayed for a few minutes. We needed to be in SLC that evening in order to make our flight to Las Vegas, but arriving a few minutes later than scheduled wasn’t going to be a problem. And then the delay got longer and longer and way too long. A few minutes became a few hours. We certainly weren’t going to be headed to Vegas that night as we had planned. Our Vegas plane would be flying away from SLC without us. Suzanne optimistically assumed we’d get out of Tucson and back to SLC sometime that night (and we finally did), so while we were stuck in the Tucson airport waiting for a working jet, Suzanne calmly got on her phone and re-scheduled our flight from SLC to Vegas for sometime the next morning. She’s a practical gal.

I, on the other hand, said to the entire Tucson airport, “=;@*(()&#~?}#$#%@#%><“%<_+__@<?FOUR HOURS LATE>@(&”:}+(@:””#$#&$?<}{|!!$*<<{{+^!~(&()@#!>?””_+~@!&^*:”$&()_%MISSING OUR PLANE TO VEGAS”!$%$#%<?*(*_+#$<&+~&):~%&I{}NEVER TRAVELING AGAIN %$^&(*)~~@~?>_+”!**)^&$%&{+~<#**^&~@#:{}<?<%$&)~%+:”::|@(#)(%$<+~%)*&<<~@*+_#$%^&%*__+)_~!~@?><“:<!!!!!”

I have record-breaking patience. But when I’ve hit my limit, whoa! Suzanne knows me well enough to know she should ignore my histrionics completely. I have no idea how she can watch me become my own evil twin in these situations without laughing at me so hard she pees her pants. Maybe she does, and I just don’t know it. I should probably ask her.