Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
Skitter’s Bow Tie o’ the Day offers this photo as proof that I don’t always have to create a many-paragraph set-up to give you a guffaw. Nope. The title of this photo is Skitter Spends Time With Her Peeps, as in “people.” Groan over that pun.
BTW I bought these Peeps the Monday after last Easter. I’m saving them for a top secret TIE O’ THE DAY post activity this coming Easter. Stay tuned.
I told you about Suzanne crocheting me two neckties, and one was a scary, neon tangle which I presented to you as a Tie o’ the Day yesterday. I didn’t even know where this second crocheted tie was hanging out, and then last night… VOILA! I found it in the urban ghetto area of The Tie Room, while I was looking for Skitter’s French fry hat. Is it a coincidence I found both ugly ties in the same day? Not to me. I have no doubt this Tie o’ the Day got jealous of the other crochet Tie o’ the Day’s new-found fame. Neckties are like that.
And now I’ll make sure none of us ever sees either crocheted tie again. They are officially retired from the active neckwear collection. They’ll spend the remainder of their existence in perpetual emeritus status.
Please, excuse our recent absences. Sometimes we layabouts actually engage in endeavors which require our single-minded, serious attention. Everything this week has been all about Mom, who suffered a health setback a few days ago. She seems to finally be “getting her rally on,” so we are cautiously contemplating the old dame sticking around for another 88 years. At least. Mom’s tough and spunky, and still loving the party atmosphere at Millard Care and Rehab. But we also know even the toughest Energizer Delta Rabbit Oak City-bred Gal has a finite amount of “rally.” Apparently, Mom’s still got some in her reserve tank. Yahoo! You, go, girl!
When we visited Mom yesterday, Skitter wore her new patriotic Tie o’ the Day. I sported my lavender, floppy Bow Tie o’ the Day. As Skitter and I were winding down our visit with Helen Sr., Gracie waltzed in for her turn to be the center of Mom’s attention. As you can see, Grace Anne wore her own Bow Tie o’ the Day for the occasion.
Gracie happily brought Bishop Travis (in his Tie o’ the Day) and Bishopette Collette all the way from BYU-ville to visit Mom. I thought Gracie’s allowing them to come with her to MCR was an incredibly thoughtful gesture for such a young bambino to display. You know how selfish some babies can be, especially about driving! Clearly, Gracie is not all about Gracie, Gracie, Gracie. See, she’s learned one of Mom’s Top 10 lessons already in her teeny life: Be generous.
BTW When I tried to exit Mom’s room yesterday, Skitter refused to leave her. She was determined to lie on the bed at Mom’s side. At least three times, she fought the leash as I tried to drag her from the bed. I finally had to lift her down to the floor and skedaddle with her. She and Mom are sooooo connected to each other.
Sticker Bow Ties o’ the Day have noticed I’m in the doghouse, as far as Skitter is concerned. When I don my bike helmet and head for the garage to get my bicycle, Skitter withers into one of her beds. The pout on her face is deafening. She knows I’m going outdoors without her, and she wants me to feel super guilty about leaving her home.
And I do feel guilty about it. She would enjoy a bike ride, I’m sure. But her legs wouldn’t be able to keep up with me if she tried to run at my side. She can’t yet ride a bike herself, and she hates to ride on the handlebars of mine. She’s too tall to fit in a bike basket. I thought of attaching a toddler trailer to my bike, but it would freak out The Skit to not be able to see my reassuring face every other second.
I mean– I know the solution. But I haven’t yet been able to actually locate or create the solution. What’s the solution? Skitter needs a sidecar attached to my bicycle. Heck, I could add a second sidecar to the other side of my bike for Mom. Oh, they’d both be in heaven. I wonder if Suzanne knows how to crochet bicycle sidecars.
From the very minute Suzanne and I got back home from our trip to the Ozarks, Skitter has been bugging me about how long it’s been since we have driven to Delta to spend the day with Mom. We all miss seeing Mom, but Skitter is downright annoying about it. Even Bow Tie o’ the Day feels annoyed at her. Skitter can fit her wish to see Mom into any sentence that flows from her stinky canine mouth.
For example, she’ll come inside from pottying first thing in the morning, and she’ll say something like, “Grandma would love to sit with me on the patio right now to watch the sun come up over the hills behind our house.” And then, after Skitter finishes her dog chow breakfast, she’ll say, “Grandma’s mush was the best. I’m glad she always saved a little to give me. I need to check on her to make sure she’s eating her breakfast.” And then, mid-morning, Skitter will say to me, “Isn’t this about the time we used to drive Peggy and Grandma to Cardwell’s every day for a drink? Do you think Grandma needs us to take her a drink?” When I fill the gas tank at 7-11, Skitter says, “I bet there’s enough gas in the car now to drive to see Grandma.” And on and on, throughout the day. You know how it is. I’m sure your kids did the same thing to you. If there was something they wanted you to do or buy, they managed to constantly insert the topic into every situation.
I miss Mom every minute of every day, too. But Skitter needs to quit pestering me about it. I go as often as I can. It’s not like I’m going to forget about spending time with Helen Sr. if Skitter doesn’t nag me about visiting her. I’ve started to wear earplugs around the house when it’s just me and The Skit, so I don’t have to hear her talk about it anymore.
And so… this morning, I put on my cowboy boots and a flip flop Bow Tie o’ the Day, and Skitter and I drove 2 1/2 hours to Delta, to Millard Care and Rehab– to spend a chunk of the day with Mom. But the old girl wasn’t there! Nope. The story I got was that Mom and two of her MCR caregivers escaped to an LDS Temple a few minutes before I showed up. You, go, girls!!!
Skitter was so traumatized and sad about not finding Mom at MCR that I had to nearly drag her off Mom’s bed so we could drive right back home. I left a MUNCH candy bar and a bag of chewy ginger cookies on Mom’s pillow so she’ll know I really was there to visit her.
BTW Notice how Mom was so excited to get to the Temple that she didn’t even straighten up her bed before she headed up north.
And another BTW Thank you again, folks of MCR, for treating Mom like the glorious damsel she is.
Skitter and I switched our “same” Ties o’ the Day, and we still like the look.
I’m usually full of clash fashion ideas, but I’m stumped today. What does one wear to Arkansas? And, more importantly, what does one wear for a week in Arkansas? We head there tomorrow, and I’m not sure what to expect. Of course, I usually wear whatever the heck I want anyway, no matter where I go– so I probably don’t need to stress too much about it. But an actual, paid model once told me I am “a fashion genius,” so I do fret about maintaining my bigly loud style. Otherwise, people are disappointed. And you know how my entire life’s goal is to please other people by living up to their expectations of what they think I should be. NOT!
As far as what neckwear to choose for our trip, I have found neckties tend to get in the way of vacay exploring and adventuring, so a stash of bow ties is usually the best choice for daily vacation attire. I pack the pieces carefully because they crush easily. Ain’t nobody wanna be seein’ no crushed bow ties!
I put each bow tie in its own tiny box. Hauling them in a carry-on requires expert packing skills because the boxes simply take up extra room. Think of it: We’ll be gone 6 days, so at 2 posts/photos per day (which is my goal), I must pack a minimum of 12 bow ties. And let’s not forget that I have to take along a few “stunt” bow ties on the trip, for posing in extreme vacay scenarios for TIE O’ THE DAY posts.
By the time I pack the necessities (i. e., neckwear), I hardly have room for my old timey, stripey swimming suit, socks, and bras. If we were staying in an Ozarks nudist camp for the week, I wouldn’t have to make tough packing decisions about what goes in the carry-on. And yes, if we were staying in an Ozarks nudist camp, you can bet I’d still be wearing a bow tie. I can’t even conceive of a nude-neck camp. That is the kind of sketchy place where you would never catch me walking around.
I’m sad to say that, so far, I am not planning to take The Saddle Purse with me to Arkansas. Suzanne and I try our best to fly completely “carry-on.” Aside from my carry-on suitcase, I can take one personal item on the plane, and I need it to be my computer bag. Alas, while packing for this first trip since buying my purse, I have finally discovered one thing “wrong” with The Saddle Purse: It’s not bigly enough to carry my laptop. I am devastated to not be able to take my purse with us. At least Skitter and The Saddle Purse will have each other to entertain and to comfort while we are away.
And they’ll have Marjorie, Suzanne’s sister, who will once again be Skitter’s chaperone at our house for the week. We all know what that means: The cops will be here regularly to give citations for noise disturbance complaints from the neighbors. Let the all-night parties begin!
Skitter tolerates the neckwear stick props, but she does not like them. When she sees me pick one up, she stiffens. She probably thinks it’s my flyswatter. And where there’s a flyswatter, there is the potential for sudden noise. And where there is noise, there is the potential for all kinds of things that might not end well for Skitter. That’s what her pre-rescue life taught her about noise. She knows she’s safe with us, but it’s difficult for her to forget bigly bad stuff when you’ve had Skitter’s early life. Needless to say, I use stick props sparingly, and now that we don’t have a residence in Delta, I rarely have to use the flyswatter.
What I have no control over, however, is The Lightin’ O’ The Fireworks on the 4th of July, by organizations and municipalities, as well as by the rank-and-file U.S. citizenry. Skitter’s expression in her photo here sorta reflects what she told me as I held her stick prop Tie o’ the Day to her chest: “I’m proud to be ‘Merican, but I don’t like the fireworks.” And then she asked me to help her settle her nerves by shaking her a martini or six. She prefers an olive with hers, not a cocktail onion.
I decided I wanted to show y’all an icon three-fer in my July 4th selfie. I believe that, along with the obvious Bow Tie o’ the Day, nothing says ‘Merica like a bejeweled vinyl mustache and a Bat Sign. Freedom, my pals, isn’t just some stuffy ideal. It isn’t just about the freedom to do serious things. We have the freedom to have mindless fun. We can still love our country even as we laugh so hard we and our friends snort our Diet Coke through our noses. Been there, done that.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I spent our afternoon practicing the art of walking while balancing a stack of 16 ball caps on my head. We decided such a sight might helpfully distract people from looking at my sorry hairs. Sadly, I don’t own enough hats to sufficiently cover each of the out-of-order hairs on my noggin. Nobody owns enough hats to handle such a massive task.
On June 1st, my hairs horror assault on the eyes will end, as soon as Miss Tiffany and her scissors are available. But I intend to always retain the skill of masterfully balancing 16 ball caps on my head while I proudly skip with Skitter around our neighborhood. No hairscuttin’ of any type can take my newly-acquired balance talent away from me. Just sayin’.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I stole Suzanne’s lunch hour by invading her office to do our usual off-the-wall routine. Just because we’re there, it doesn’t always mean Suzanne ceases working. On this day, not even The Saddle Purse could make her look away from the three computers sitting on her desk. She thinks she’s so important that the entire Utah public education system will fall apart if she stops to eat some yogurt and string cheese for ten minutes. She might be right.
I decided I should add something I didn’t include in yesterday’s post about depression and the depression side of bipolarity. It’s important for people to understand that a devastating depression does not generally correlate to the quality of a clinically depressed person’s life. [There is something called “situational depression,” which can occur when someone’s life is in tatters. But it tends to be not very deep and it goes away when the situation improves.]
Real depression doesn’t care about the quality of your life. It just shows up, like any illness. Take me, for example. I’ve experienced bouts of depression since I was a kid, and yet I’ve had a relatively tragedy-free, love-filled, opportunity-filled life. My life has been rich, and peopled with decent characters wherever I’ve been. All of that didn’t keep me from being bipolar though.
At this point in my life, I have the freedom to write all day. I live in a swell house. I’ve got a few bucks in The Saddle Purse. I get to travel quite a bit. I have a fine family, fine in-laws, and Suzanne. Skitter’s sleeping head is snoring on my lap even as I write this post. The evil parts of my pancreas got hacked out, and the pain they caused has mostly disappeared. I’m even satisfied that Mom is in the absolute best place for her to be for the last chapter of her life. As far as I’m concerned, I have everything. Not only does my cup runneth over, I’ve got more cups than I can count and they all runneth over.
But none of the gifts my life contains has kept me from being bipolar. None of it has kept this swamp of depression away. Mental illness does what it wants. All I can do is try to manage it. Meds help. Talk therapy helps. Practicing mindfulness helps. Writing about it helps. I hope TMS will help. Each of these things helps a little bit. At least, they help ME. I know they do not help everyone who is bipolar or depressed. See, my life is lucky even where that’s concerned: There are things that help me manage my bipolar head– and still this deep depression shows up whenever it wants.
I don’t get cocky about how well I have been able to manage my bipolarity throughout my life. I don’t get complacent that I have access to things that help me. All I can say is that I’ve managed to make it to this day. I can’t afford to act like I will still be able to manage it tomorrow. So far, so good.
I got to sleep-in past 5AM on this weekday morning. No TMS treatment today. Yay!!! But Suzanne began to snore promptly at 5:01 AM, so I didn’t get to sleep in as much as I got to lie there and “curse-in” about being awakened when I didn’t need to be up early.
I’m not quite finished with the TMS regimen. I had treatment #30 yesterday morning. I’ve got 6 to go, but I am now in the tapering-off phase of the treatments, so I will have treatments only twice per week from now on. I want my TMS-every-weekday schedule back! I will follow the rules, but it really ticks me off that it will take 3 weeks for me to complete the last 6 treatments.
People who have never experienced a major depression cannot fully comprehend its complexity. My experience has been that most of the lucky people who have been blessed to skip the depression quagmire have the idea that to be depressed is only to feel down and hopeless. They don’t have a clue that major depression can manifest itself, not just in negative feelings, but in the total absence of feelings. When I began TMS treatment, I had experienced an extended period of time feeling nothing. Nada. Zip.
When this “not-feeling” happens, I still KNOW what I feel, but I don’t really FEEL it. For example, I know I love Skitter, but right now I don’t feel it in the marrow of my bones. I take care of her out of loving habit, knowing that the love still lives in me somewhere– and hoping I will surely feel it again. It helps me that I was raised to be a nice person, whether I’m feeling like it or not. “Nice” is my default mode of being.
Here’s another example of my being disconnected from my true, feeling self: A few weeks ago, Suzanne said, “Let’s buy you a new truck.” If I’d had my normal feelings working, I would have picked out a new truck and parked it in the garage within an hour of Suzanne’s words. Instead, I shrugged it off and said, “Nah. I don’t need one.” What mentally apt gal says NO when someone tells her to go buy a new truck? What feeling person doesn’t jump off the couch and speed to the auto dealership when someone basically tells you to buy a new truck you know you want? That right there proves I’m off my feeling-rocker.
And thus, I go through the motions of daily life, completely aware of what’s going on, but not really feeling like it has anything to do with me. I don’t even feel my “me-ness.”
I know all this sounds weird. It sounds impossible. But trust me, it’s possible. I’ve gone through the “not-feeling” thing a few other times in my life. My head has always righted itself, so it hasn’t alarmed me when it’s happened. But this time, I have “not-felt” for longer than I am comfortable with. That’s why Suzanne and I decided I should try the TMS treatments.
How’s the TMS working for me? I’m not sure. But I think I see a positive change in my psyche here and there. Suzanne says I don’t stare out the windows into nothingness as much as I did before. I would like to report I’ve felt a bigly, flip-of-the-switch change for the better, but I haven’t. On the other hand, I have not completed all 36 of the TMS sessions, and perhaps the last 6 are the charm. I can report that when I visited baby Grace last week, I felt inklings of joy stirring up in me, fighting to get out. So there’s hope.
BTW Wood Bow Tie o’ the Day says, “Follow your arrow. Or your arrowhead, if you don’t have the whole arrow.” Got the point?