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.

A Meeting Of Sister Minds

Howdy! TIE O’ THE DAY is back in session. I will catch y’all up on some of the more memorable of my recent time-off escapades, so stay tuned for more holiday-ness over the next few posts.

These photos are from a brief—but rejuvenating—meet-up I was able to have with my oldest sister, BT/Mercedes, and her hubby, Nuk. As far as my attire goes, for the meet-up, I stayed with the colors of the Christmas season by wearing one red Sloggers shoe and one green Sloggers shoe. I also wore my seasonal wintry cape, which was made by Suzanne. In contrast, I added a non-holiday pink cravat as my Tie o’ the Day for the occasion.

As per usual, BT/Mercedes and I met-up at Barnes & Noble in Layton. We didn’t go inside, but Mercedes and I devour books like the world ends at midnight, so Barnes & Noble is a both a convenient and symbolic spot for us to meet. BT brought some goodies she wanted me to take to Mom when I drove down to Delta the next day, and I had a pile of books for BT which I thought she might like to scour through. We made the swap in the parking lot, where we had a gabfest in the cold. BT just had to read the bumper stickers on my car, and then she said to me, “You’re just like me, only funner!” Trust me—she’s a mega-fun person, in her own right. I learned much about how to entertain others from her. She’s the firstborn. I am the baby of the family, who showed up 15 years after her. As I have probably said about us before, we are exactly the same person—except for the million significant ways we differ from each other. I do think we make a swell set of bookends (and bookworms) for the family, though. 📚📖

Ready For A Tuesday

1 chopper-filled Face Mask o’ the Day, plus 1 purple Cravat o’ the Day, plus 1 S’mores 2002 Olympic lapel pin = I’m accessorized properly for a Tuesday of erranding in the bigly city.

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.

A Sorta Banned Book Or Two In Delta, UT

Cravat o’ the Day and I were banished to the upstairs last night. It was Suzanne’s turn to host her monthly book club, so I took my cue to be out of the way. Suzanne’s book club doesn’t have a classy name like her Champagne Garden Club does. Apparently, her book club is just a book club. I can report that book club is not raucous, while Champagne Garden Club is never NOT out of control.

As Cravat and I puttered around upstairs in The Tie Room all evening, I got thinking about some of my book adventures in Delta. The first booky thing I remember is Mom’s monthly book club, known simply as Club. Club always consisted of a group of around twenty women, and they took turns hosting the event. One woman was assigned to “give” the book, which meant to talk about it and get the discussion going. The host provided refreshments.

When it was Mom’s turn to give the book, she prepped by marking pages she wanted to be sure to present. Neither highlighters nor post-its had yet been born, and it appeared Mom didn’t believe in paper clips. She clipped her noteworthy pages with bobby pins. When Mom hosted Club, recipe cards were strewn all over the couch for days before the event, as she decided on the perfect dessert to construct.

When Mom hosted, Dad and I stayed in their bedroom watching tv. About every third minute, Club laughter would explode– with two laughs dwarfing the others. After the first round of laughter of the night, Dad would always say about those two wild laughs, “Well, Dot and Roberta got here.”

Club existed for somewhere around fifty years, and then around four years ago, it just stopped. No fanfare. It was sad. But its time had come. Few original members were still living. I think they were maybe a bit booked-out.

My stand-out book adventures in Delta occurred in the DHS library when I was in 7th Grade. At that time, 7th and 8th grades were located in the high school, so the DHS library is where I got my book fix. Miss Hansen, the librarian, yelled at me one day because I checked out too many books. She telephoned Mom– with me standing right there at the library desk– to “tell on” me for my wicked, wicked way: reading a lot. Mom asked, “Has she ever not returned a book on time? Has she ever lost a book? Has she ever destroyed a book?” Of course, I hadn’t. It wasn’t an issue after that. I could check out as many books as my little heart desired, from that moment on.

But Miss Hansen wasn’t done monitoring my reading just yet. Soon after the checking-out-too-many-books incident, I tried to check out another bunch of books, and Miss Hansen told me I wasn’t old enough to read a couple of them. She wouldn’t let me check them out. I wish I could remember the names of all the “banned-from-me” books she wasn’t going to allow me to check out. I do remember that one was a book of plays by Tennessee Williams.

Miss Hansen called Mom again, this time to tell on me that I was trying to check out books that were not appropriate for me. Mom said, “If it’s okay for the books to be in the DHS library, it’s ok for her to read them. Let her check them out.” Mom to the rescue! It was not an issue after that phone conversation.

[What a literate mess I was! Sorry, for the inconvenience Mom. Thanks for the trust in me, Mom.]

But wait! An ending that I didn’t see coming showed up. Miss Hansen was a large woman, and she was old. These two things apparently prevented her from tying her shoes. I was walking by the library one morning when Miss Hansen had just arrived and was unlocking the door. She asked me to come in with her a minute. She asked if I would please tie her shoes. And thus began a couple of high school years of me stopping in the library each morning to tie Miss Hansen’s shoes, whether or not I needed to check out illicit books.

Blame everything on books. And I mean everything.

And Not A Tie In Sight

Sometimes you witness something so wrong that it reminds you how important your loved ones are. We were watching a re-run of LIVE PD last night when we saw this woman in her I-meant-to-wear-this shirt. Did she think her necklace would hide her more-than-cleavage? She could have saved our eyes from seeing this if she had been wearing a wide tie from the 70’s, or even a cravat. After witnessing this tackiness, I immediately went up to The Tie Room and hugged each of my Ties/Bow Ties o’ All the Days. It took hours for me to acknowledge each of them personally, but I love them bigly. I thanked each of them for their hard work and patience. My ties would NEVER allow me to venture into the world with my breasticles hangin’ out for all the cops and television viewers to see. There is a limit to flashy fashion choices. Even for me. 🙀

More Proof I Was Born To Tie

While I’ve been recovering, I’ve had time to dig around in old boxes o’ memorabilia. I’ve found a trove of old photos. And in this X-mas pic, I noticed Mom’s opening a present whose wrapping paper is covered in Bow Ties o’ the Day. I wish I knew what was inside. Could it have been some kind of tie thing? Probably not, but a girl can dream. This pic was snapped in the early 70’s, as evidenced by that orange carpet. And hey! Mom needs her hair did.

Doomsday Prepper O’ Neckwear

The in-laws gave us this 10-gallon barrel to use as part of our emergency/disaster storage. I’m sure they meant for us to fill it with water, but I decided I can be thirsty for the duration of Armageddon. What I can’t do during Armageddon is have an unadorned neck. I have my 100-oz. mini-keg of Diet Coke, and I’ll share it, so we’ll stay semi-hydrated. I’m filling this storage container– aka Helen’s Ark– with as many of every species of neckwear I can fit inside it. 🚢

Ah, Back In The Day…

Tie o’ the Day is called a puff tie. It looks like a combo of a cravat and a necktie, with a hint of a Colonel Sanders tie in it, too. CHEERIOS Cufflinks o’ the Day definitely star in this post though. I am a serial cereal killer. When I was wee, every Saturday, Mom let me buy a box of cereal. I chose based on the coolest prize inside the box. Blast from the past! Anybody remember VAN’s, or MR. G’S, or DOVE’S, or HAPPY SERVICE?