Category: Skitter

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I Need A Trim

How do I know I need a trim? Because only two weeks after I got them shaved, my head hairs are already long enough to hold my shamrock hair clips. Green Bow Tie o’ the Day is kinda grass-like in its fabric design. It does remind me of hilly fields in Ireland. And I’ll tell you a secret: The last item on my Bucket List is to die on one of the Aran Islands in western Ireland. If I have to die—and we all do—that’s the place I wanna be when I do it. Well, today that’s where I want to die, anyway. The place designated in the last item on my Bucket List changes often.

Folks, I am so stoked to be able to visit Mom in her room at Millard Care and Rehab tomorrow. I have not been able to concentrate on much else, since I got the news this morning that visitors are again allowed to hang with the residents. Things are not back to normal-normal. For example, visitors are allowed to visit their person only in their person’s room. That’s fine by me. All I need is a hug from my mother, and she probably needs one from me after a year. I know for a fact that she needs a hug from Skitter. Skitter will jump up on Mom’s bed, curling up against Mom’s leg to nap just like she belongs there. Mom will then coo at Skitter, and pet her the entire time we’re visiting. Helen Sr. will be so overjoyed to see Skitter that I’ll be lucky to steal a few hugs from the grand old broad.

Seriously, although I turned 57 last week, this afternoon I feel more like just the 7. The thought of seeing Mom in person—and being able to touch her—has got me feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. I won’t sleep a wink tonight.

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Oh, Happy Day!

I was culling through my St. Patrick’s Day props this morning when I took a break to check my email. Glory be! I got an email informing me that Millard Care And Rehab is finally allowing visitors again. I CAN NOW HUG THE STUFFIN’ OUT OF MOM FOR THE FIRST TIME IN OVER A YEAR!!! You can bet I’m planning a road trip for Skitter and me to Deltabama ASAP. I’m so excited that only a bigly Bow Tie o’ the Day like this one is bigly enough to illustrate my mood. ‘Scuse me while I go cry for joy and fill a box with treats to take to Mom.

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My First Dose

I got my first COVID-19 shot this morning. I had planned to take Skitter with me to keep me company in the car while I endured a reputed long wait in line to receive the first of my two vaccinations. However, as I was gathering my books and music to leave for my appointment, I asked, “Skitter, do you wanna go on an errand with me?” She barely raised an eyelid. She was clearly content to remain in her sleeping-in mode. How could I possibly drag her out of her cozy slumber? So I took this photo of her ignoring me, and I headed out the front door.

I am here to tell you that the Davis County Health Department has really got their “sh*t” together—I mean their “shot.” Following the new vaccination guidelines, I was able to get my shot about a month before they originally anticipated folks in my age-group would even be able to sign up. I emailed them yesterday, and 5 minutes later, I had an appointment for today. I arrived for my appointment about 10 minutes before my scheduled time. I followed the car directly ahead of me through the twisty, busy parking lot, all the way into a stall inside the Legacy Center building. There, I turned off my car and sat for a total of 4 minutes, while I answered a few questions, got a few warnings about possible obscure side effects, and ultimately got stabbed with my shot. I then started my car again, cranked up the Amanda Shires cd I was listening to, and drove out of the building. Before I knew it, I was done with Part 1 of my entire pandemic vaccination adventure—a couple of minutes before my actual scheduled appointment time.

The front-line folks running the vaccination clinic were efficient, willing to answer questions, and even appreciative of my chatty humor. One guy—the nurse who shot my arm—liked my wood Bow Tie o’ the Day so much that I tried to give it to him. He told me that in a different context, he would have gladly received Bow Tie as the simple gift of appreciation I meant it to be, but since he was there as a professional nurse, he could not accept it. I completely understood. Kudos to people with principles, who aren’t shy about living by them.

BTW Since I have a history of instances of severe allergic reactions to a couple of medications and bee stings (requiring me to carry an EpiPen), my shot nurse requested that I wait in my car in the Legacy Center parking lot for at least 30 minutes before I headed home, just in case I were to have an adverse reaction to the vaccine. He suggested I park as near to the ambulance in the parking lot as I could—just in case. In my experience, I have found that no matter what the job is, those people who think of the “just in case” scenarios for others end up becoming the best at whatever they do.

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I Never Miss An Occasion To Dress For An Occasion

Don’t think that just because I was adrift in Bipolar-land and/or Cranky Hanky Panky-ville on the actual dates that I didn’t dress loudly and over-the-top appropriately for Valentine’s Day and Mardi Gras. I certainly did. (I’m doing a combined fashion reenactment in this photo.) If I put on a Bow Tie o’ the Day in the Bipolar Forest, and nobody’s there to write a TIE O’ THE DAY post about it, it does—in fact—still happen. Yes, it does still make a sound, which you are hearing right now. 👂🏻✍️ And for Lent, it appears I decided to give up my hair.

FYI Skitter liked wearing her bell-bedazzled Mardi Gras collar, but she decided to pull a face for this photo anyway. She has moods of her own, that’s for darn sure.

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There’s An Ascot For That

Call me Heathcliff. I woke up feeling a bit Wuthering Heights-y today, which means I just had to don a snooty Ascot o’ the Day. It’s odd that I ever find myself in a silky, ascot-y, Wuthering Heights-y mood at all because I never really got into the vibe of the book. I admit I do overly enjoy the 1939 Laurence Olivier/Merle Oberon movie version of the book. And it is also true that the Kate Bush song of the same name gets pleasantly stuck in my head for hours, at least once a year, prompted by who-knows-what. All I can tell you for sure is that when I’m in a Wuthering Heights mood like I am today, the only logical thing for me to do is to head off for a drive in my truck—in search of windy, foggy, muddy moors over which I will aimlessly run while alternately crying out “Heathcliff” and “Cathy” to all ghosts everywhere in my vicinity. The ascot-less Skitter will surely accompany me and wonder what’s up. Or—more likely—I will just sit here in my ascot and re-watch the old movie until I get the moors out of my system.

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It’s A Give And Take

[I think my noggin is on the mend. Nevertheless, I’m not back in writing shape yet. Enjoy another Valentine season re-post.]

The wall-hanging in this photo has shown up in the background of a lot of my post pix. It dominates our living room, on purpose. Mom chose a similar saying for the back of her and Dad’s headstone. The gist of its message is the over-arching truth with which I was raised. And it still frames the way I try to live my life.

To love and to be loved are not two separate things. Happiness comes from making and keeping them one thing together. (I’m not just talking about romantic love.) We love who we love. And we want their love in return, but we often don’t allow ourselves to accept it. Too often we don’t feel worthy of it, or we push it away because we don’t want to risk the chance we might get hurt. Loving and being loved is definitely going to have its pains, but think of them as growing pains. That’s what most of the hurts are. They are signs a relationship needs some overhauling in order to grow. So work on it. The payoff will happen if both parties are willing to give and take the love the work requires.

You can find love all over the place. For example, I’m wearing dog bones Bow Tie o’ the Day in Valentine’s Day honor of all the mutts in my life who have loved me. And in honor of my skittish Skitter who is snoring beside me as I type this post. She loves me even in her sleep. Our dogs simply love us. And they so clearly assume that we will love them back. They trust us. They expect us to befriend them and care for them. They make us better people because we cannot help but melt in their presence, like we give ourselves over to any baby that is near us. We coo at dogs. We talk to dogs in our baby-talk voices. We want to feed dogs and touch them and protect them. We want to cover them in warm blankies. Dogs pull the best parts of our hearts out into the open.

With my bipolar head, sometimes I feel lost and foreign even to myself. Having a dog around when I’m on one of my mental extremes can make me feel like I’m at home in myself, even if the feeling comes and goes. Even Skitter, who was severely abused before she rescued us, makes me feel at home in my bipolar self—just by following me around, or doing her chew dance, or prancing to the mailbox with me. Skitter’s abuser could not destroy Skitter’s capacity for love. That’s how strong love is. I can’t help but exude love for her. She brings out the baby-talk in me. “Skitter, are you ready to go walkie?” The love goes both ways. That’s happiness. Her giving and receiving love is healing The Skit. And it changes me. It strengthens an attitude that stays with me in my dealings with my fellow beings.

Perform love, wherever you go. Let your love rain down like glitter from the heavens.

That’s my sermon for this morning, and I’m sticking to it.

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Two Helen’s Through The Looking Glass

Look closely! That’s Mom in there.

I threw on my dog bones Bow Tie o’ the Day, and we all took a Sunday drive to Deltabama yesterday to “visit” Mom. We delivered Mom some tasty goodies from us and from BT, and then Suzanne and Skitter and I stood outside Mom’s window in the cold—feeling warmed by the company through the window. As with every visit, Mom said hello to Skitter first. It is odd to be so close to Mom and yet have to speak to her by phone. Mom kept joking that our visit made her feel like she was in jail. I asked her if she had been hiding a prison record from us, because there’s no other way she could know what jail visitation is like. That made her cackle up a joyous storm.

Mom is doing well, despite her pandemic time in solitary. Whenever I speak to her on the phone, she is generally in her normal happy spirits. But I still have to see it for myself on occasion—even if it is only through a care center window.

BTW Mom sends her regards to y’all. She often refers to my TIE O’ THE DAY readers as “the tie people who sent me birthday cards for my 90th.” Thanks again, for doing that.

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My Little Reader Mutt, My Partner In Tie Crime

Actually, this is Skitter’s way of cheese-ily “closing the book” on the holiday neckwear. If I’ve looked through the last couple of weeks of photos correctly, this is the absolutely very final Christmas tie o’ 2020 you will see on me or Skitter until next December. I think.

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A Pandemic Birthday Party In The Birthday Boy’s Garage

I posted last week that my very first brother-in-law, Kent, was turning the bigly 70-damn-5. Here are a few pix of our brief visit to give him our eternal regards for joining the family in 1967, and for staying in the family for the duration. From then, until now, Kent has always hit our funny bones with his up-beat brand of cleverosity. His wisdom shows up wrapped in humor, as well. And his heart is wide open.

On Kent’s birthday, we threw The Skit in the car and drove up to his and BT’s abode in Pleasant View, where a day-long drive-by of honking horns bleated their birthday wishes to our Kent. We actually stopped in to hang for a little while in their garage, which was set up with socializing at pandemically social distances in mind. The libation served to birthday revelers was sparkling cider in the grooviest teensy bottles. A bigly and tall heater spread the heat. The present we gave Kent was one of Mom’s old HELEN W license plates, in honor of him christening all of Mom’s cars with the same title of “the Helenmobile,” probably starting as far back as the 70’s. I will not lie: We stole a masked hug or two from Nuk and Mercedes before we left.

I wore my lighted turkey hat for the occasion, as well as a holiday Tie o’ the Day covered in portraits of polar bears, Santa, and snowmen. Skitter’s Tie o’ the Day is an authentic mystery, and we’re open to any guesses you might have as to what the “thing” on Skitter’s tie is supposed to be. It appears to have a sort of snowman head. It has what might be strings of lights wrapped around its Christmas tree-like “body.” I think it might be a dinosaur of some kind, or maybe Godzilla. It does have a tail. Is it holding a baby who’s wearing a black hat? Seriously, what is this creature? Is it an icon from some cult? Is it a mascot for an octuple-A baseball team nobody’s ever heard of? I feel like I’m missing the punchline to a joke. Whatever it is, I like it cuz Skitter likes it.

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Better Than Christmas Morning

Suzanne and I had some Christmas presents to deliver to Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette—and Gracie, too—so we drove to Provo a few days after Christmas, when the season had settled down for everyone. We and our Face Masks o’ the Day were treated to an hour of good—though mildly muffled—conversation with Gracie’s parents, and a live performance of The Gracie Show.

Skitter visited the Blackwelder’s with us. It was the first time Skitter and Grace had met, and their encounter was a success. Gracie was enamored with the mutt, and Skitter was willing to let Amazing Grace shower her with up-close, pokey, hands-on attention that only a kid can give. Skitter basked in it. In fact, I didn’t ever see Skitter vibrate around Grace. Well, I guess that’s not quite true. Gracie has a slide in her room, on which she performed amusing tricks for us. Skitter begged me to let her go down the slide a few times to impress The Divine Miss Grace. Of course, I helped Skitter be brave to accomplish the scary feat. Let me tell you, Skitter vibrated all the way down the slide three times, much to Gracie’s delight.

Bishopette Collette later texted that Grace talked about Skitter long after we had gone home. When Skitter heard that, she asked me to teach her to wink. She wanted me to snap a photo of her winking to send to Gracie, and said photo is included here.

BTW Holiday Tie o’ the Day was a hit with Grace. I showed Gracie how to turn on the reindeer’s flashing red nose and Christmas music by pushing the fire flames on the tie. She pushed it as many times as you’d expect a toddler to push a button that turned on a flashing red light and Christmas music. The battery was dead by the time we left. I loved every minute of the visit.