Category: Stories

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It’s A Body Thong Conspiracy

It’s a good thing I still have access to this photo from last Christmas season. I had come up with a swell idea for a new TIE O’ THE DAY selfie for today, in which I once again wore the Rudolph body thong some anonymous reader sent me in the mail a couple of years back. This morning I eagerly headed directly to the Tie Room to retrieve the attire, accessories, and various props I would need for the bigly reindeer thong photo I had promised I’d show you. But for the life of me, I could not find my Rudolph thong. It was not where I usually keep it. The tuxedo thong was there. The tuxedo boxers were there. But the Rudolph thong was nowhere to be found.

I suspected foul play immediately. I suspected a devilish, war-on-Christmas interloper had somehow breached the sanctity of the Tie Room for the sole purpose of stealing my fabulously awkward Rudolph thong. I even got thinking that Suzanne might have accidentally-on-purpose snuck into the Tie Room and gotten rid of my jingly garment, in order to prevent me from ever wearing it on TIE O’ THE DAY for y’all ever again.

Normally, Suzanne’s cool with my over-the-top fashion shenanigans, but I have always suspected this particular festive fashion gift of reindeeer-thong-from-a-stranger crossed the line for her by about eight country miles. I can understand how she might feel like that. However, whatever mystery has befallen my dear deer thong, I resolve to find it—no matter who is ultimately to blame for stealing it from me in the first place. I will indeed show off a new photo of me in my Rudolph thong for y’all before the end of this Christmas season. Mark my words! 🦌

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My First 2021 X-mas Holiday Outfit

I kept it simple: a Santa Tie o’ the Day. This clothing configuration was a bigly hit at Dick’s Market this morning. There were a handful of kids throughout the store with their parents while I was there, and most of them jollied right up when I passed by. Only one kid broke out in actual tears (loud, wailing tears) when he saw me. His mother—equally not-festive at the sight of me—gave me the how-dare-you-dress-like-that-in-front-of-children look. Did I care that I got “the look”? Heck Tate no, I didn’t care. I gotta be me. Besides, everyone else in the store seemed as happy as flying reindeer to see me in my seasonal garb. 🦌 🎄

⚠️WARNING! Remember the reindeer Christmas thong a reader sent me a couple of years ago? Well, I’ll be wearing that in the next post. Once seen, it cannot be unseen—so if you think your heart and/or eyes can’t handle it, please rapidly scroll past the next TIE O’ THE DAY when it shows up on your screen. If you think there’s even a slight chance you might be askeered by it, look ye not directly at the image! You have been warned, y’all! ⚠️

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Skitter Witnessed My Happy Old Epiphany

Here’s Skitter in her first Christmas 2021 Tie o’ the Day. She was present, watching with doggie amusement when the following tale played out.

On the day after Thanksgiving, I was dizzy all day long. I’d get up to do something, and I’d sort of catch myself leaning and weaving as I gingerly made my way from place to place. At some point, I began to wonder if I’d started drinking again without my own knowledge. It was an odd feeling. But honestly, I was more curious than concerned about my wobbly state of equilibrium. I chalked it up to having eaten excessive amounts of cheese bread, tater tots, and green Jell-O the day before. Or maybe what I was experiencing was simply due to my age. I blame “getting older” for a plethora of inexplicable and/or idiosyncratic things that occur in, on, to, or anywhere near my body. I’m positive I’m mostly correct to direct blame at this culprit of time.

Anyhoo… It was the day after Thanksgiving, and Suzanne had her side of the love seat reclined so her recently operated-on foot could be constantly elevated. Her foot stuck out towards the middle of the living room like a sore thumb (har, har, har) the entire day. She was following her surgeon’s orders to stay off her hoof and be a couch potato slug. As the day wore on, so did my light-headed condition. So we spent the bulk of the holiday sitting safely on the love seat watching television. At one point, as I unsteadily walked across the living room to get something, I felt myself falling—slowly but surely—to the floor. To catch myself, I instinctively reached out and grabbed the nearest available object, which just happened to be Suzanne’s recently operated-on-and-still-throbbing, elevated foot which stuck out in the perfect spot to save me. Which it did. Which caused Suzanne to yelp out in pain. My apologies yelped out in response. I felt like the worst dizzy person on the face of the earth.

I saw it in my mind’s eye then: the tableau we had made at that very moment. Picture it yourself. Suzanne sitting in the love seat—footrest deployed. Her decades-worn foot elevated and iced, protruding into the center of the room. If she were moving, her joints would be creaking. She is cozily semi-swaddled in her Minky blanket because she has been perpetually cold for the last decade, no matter the temperature. Her reading glasses are perched perfectly on her nose, so she can sufficiently see what she’s currently embroidering. To conquer painful inflammation, a dishtowel-wrapped bag of frozen peas is draped like a too-tiny shawl around the back of Suzanne’s neck, which aches these days with an ever-increasing regularity.

Now picture my part in this tableau o’ long-settled domesticity. There I stand, on the verge of falling in my own living room. Babying my pancreas. Hand over my still-scabby surgical scar. My own eyeglasses on so I can focus better on increasingly blurry words, things, critters, and people. Full set o’ dentures in my mouth. Tinnitus blaring in my brain. Hearing aids like barnacles growing out of my ears. An amnesia haze developing about what it was I even crossed the room to do or retrieve in the first place. My balance weeble-wobbly, at best that day.

After I managed to sit my butt back down on the love seat to calm the adrenalin, I recognized the implications of the scene Suzanne and I had just made. I said to Suzanne, with all the exuberance I could muster, “It has happened! I think it’s official!” She asked me what I was talking about. I said, “Finally! When we were young, we talked about how nice it would be to achieve it. And after all these years—as of this very moment—I am certain we have accomplished it: We have officially grown old together!” Even with all manner of natural maladies which might accompany it, I can say it’s even better than I imagined it would be. It feels like home to me. 🛋 📺 👣 💝

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My Tiniest Chuck Brown X-mas Tree

With a jumbo Bow Tie o’ the Day covered in wrapped and be-ribboned presents, I present my munchkin-est Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It stands at just under a mini-majestic 10 inches tall. Its singular ornament is a milkweed pod creation by my grandma, Zola Walker Wright. She made it in the early 70’s, and it is indeed the beauteous Zola whose photograph adorns this particular ornament. She made similar photo-personalized milkweed pod ornaments adorned with pictures of each member of the the family. When she and my grandpa, Walter, decorated their X-mas tree with all the milkweed pod faces, it both figuratively and literally became a family tree. I still have my precious Zola-made, milkweed pod face-ornament. It is securely stored away somewhere so secret and safe in our garage that even I can’t find it. 🤓🎁

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Our 2021 T-Giving Feast

I was going through photos on my phone this afternoon when I realized I had not yet posted anything about our bigly Thanks Feast of last week. I admit I had a cheese bread hangover for a couple of days after the event, and that’s the likely reason the documenting photos slipped my brain. Note this: Turkey Tie o’ Thanksgiving can also function as a handy bib!

Anyhoo… We stayed home this year for the holiday, so it was just me and Suzanne and the skittish Skitter for the entire day. When it’s like that, you know I have to put my spin on the traditional food offerings. I once again prepared food one item at a time, at various junctures throughout the day. I launched the festivities with the opening of the can o’ jellied cranberry and dumping it on a plate—thus, causing the traditional cranberry-blob-from-the-can-suck sound. And we were off.

We ate “canned”-ied yams and baby corn-on-the-cob and stuffing. At some point, Suzanne ate a whole can of olives. In lieu of mashed potatoes, I slaved away baking tater tots, which is one of Suzanne’s all-time fave potato creations to eat. (It’s true. When I’m in the proverbial doghouse with Suzanne, I just drag out the tater tots, and I am immediately forgiven.) We ate bow tie-shaped ham and turkey sammiches. There are no photos of the loaf of cheese bread I sculpted, because we were so busy eating it while it was warm that it would have been blasphemous to take up valuable eating time to find my phone or camera. And since we live in Utah, I served up green Jell-O—bow tie-shaped, too. Also, of course, we napped-and-snacked intermittently. For dessert that evening, I scooped up mounds of Dreyer’s pumpkin pie ice cream for us to snarf down until we were beyond full. Fortunately, we ate so much that I’m sure we won’t need another meal until Christmas—or possibly Easter. Yup. Mission accomplished.

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A Vehicular Decision

Channeling the spirit of Dad, while ordering a truck.
I haven’t yet given this baby a name. But I’m working on it.

I channeled Dad in order to make a final decision about purchasing the new truck I’ve been eyeing. Dad knew his trucks. Also, Dad always had a red or blue hanky dangling from his back pocket, so I wore a hanky-esque Face Mask o’ the Day to the car dealership yesterday. I doubled-down with the black in my Bow Tie o’ the Day and the yellow in my shirt—the two colors signifying the bees Dad expertly cared for in his life-long work.

I picked up Suzanne from her office and took her on a test-drive in my potential auto acquisition. Suzanne’s tummy gets hyper-queasy when riding in bouncy vehicles like my old jalopy truck, so I wanted to make sure she could stomach the ride in this new vehicle. If she couldn’t relax and enjoy the truck’s ride, I would not even entertain the idea of acquiring this truck candidate. At some point during the test-drive—as I drove, and as Suzanne played with all the gadgets and controls in the cab—Suzanne seemed to be remarkably pleased with the level of smoothe-icity of the truck’s ride. Suzanne’s perfectly settled stomach was saying, “Yes!” to the truck. Consequently, I made my bigly decision to buy the 2022 Ford Maverick—and in my kind of flashy color, called Velocity Blue. When we finally returned the demo truck to the dealership, I was grinning through my face mask as I signed my “Helen Hancock” on the necessary paperwork. Oh, happy, wallet-emptying day! 💸💸

The bad news is this: My brand new travel toy is a special order, and it will not be built and delivered to me for 2 or 3—or maybe 4 or more—months. The good news about the bad news is this: If I don’t explode to smithereens with anticipation before my truck gets here, I will have grown my patience to superpower-strength. That kind of patience comes in handy on this planet full of imperfect human beings. Patience, I fervently believe, is the next best quality to kindness.

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More Fun With Doctors

Gustav Klimt-inspired Bow Tie o’ the Day and I drove Suzanne to yet another doctor appointment. This time, Suzanne was having a procedure done on some nerves to alleviate pain in her back and neck. Let me be clear: It’s not that we like going to doctors and have tried to make a hobby of it. And it’s not that our ancient bodies are falling apart right before your eyes. Nah, we are relatively healthy, “seasoned” gals who have good insurance, and—thanks to my mountain o’ medical bills this year—we have met our yearly out-of-pocket insurance deductibles. Therefore, it now behooves us to take care of all the bigly and little medical issues we need to address—at no extra cost to us—before the end of the year. Come January 1st, the medical insurance deductibles start over. The first day of the new insurance year is always a wistful day when your medically mortal body is almost as old as pyramid-entombed mummies, like ours are.💀☠️

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Git Out Yer Blank Recipe Cards

[Yesterday, I re-posted a photo of Mom slicing her cheese bread. I told about the importance of cheese bread at our family holiday meals. Today, here’s a second re-post of the recipe.]

Five red Bow Ties o’ the Day are proud to provide a recipe we think you’ll find tasty. It’s cheesy and bready. Who could find fault with that?

Actually, I really can’t call this a “recipe.” Mom’s recipes ranged from easy-peasy to intricate and near-impossible. This is a simple one. Three ingredients are all you need. You’ll also need an oven.

1 loaf of French bread. 1 stick or 1/2 stick of butter. And one jar of Kraft Old English Spread.

Lay a sheet of foil across a cookie sheet. You do not want to have to clean baked-on cheese off your cookie sheet. Use the foil.

Hand-mix the cheese spread and butter together until it’s creamy. Mom generally uses the whole stick of butter, although I’ve seen her use just half a stick. I always use just the half.

With a bread knife, skin ALL the crust off the French bread. Ditch the crust.

Cover the bottom of the skinned loaf with the cheese/butter spread, then place it on the foil-covered cookie sheet. Continue to cover the sides and top of the loaf with the cheese/butter spread. Spread the spread as evenly as you can. Since the size of French bread loaves vary, you might or might not use the entire amount of spread. Plus, you’ll definitely want to experiment with how thick you like your cheese spread layer to be. If you want a thin layer of the cheese/butter mixture on the entire loaf, you’ll probably have enough to cover two loaves.

Bake for 10-ish minutes, at 350 degrees. Ovens vary, you know. Experiment with how crusty—if at all—you like the top of your cheese bread to be. The more you experiment with the variables, the more cheese bread you’ll “have to” eat.🤤

I recommend you slice the cheese bread (an electric knife works best) while it’s still hot. And put it on the table hot. But it’s still yummy when it has cooled off.

As any good cook knows, even with an easy recipe the taste is in the details. Mom’s excellent cooking was the result of tweaking good recipes to make them better, as well as her knack for timing. Still, she cooked primarily by sight, smell, and taste. Measuring ingredients wasn’t much of a concern to her. She guesstimated a lot. That’s what makes it difficult to pin down her actual recipes.

If someone wanted a recipe, she’d give them one. She’d also invite them to come to the house to watch her make what they were asking about. Her complicated candy-type creations are especially almost impossible to re-create, even if you watched her make it and tried to write everything down. She was always changing the way she did it or adding a new twist or a different ingredient. And, of course, exact measurements were not always Mom’s way.

Oh. About the potato chips and Diet Coke in the photo. Those food staples are for you to snack on while you make the cheese bread. Substitute a bottle of wine for the Diet Coke, if you are so inclined. Chocolate is also allowed.

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Personally, I Prefer Using Oven Mitts

[This is a re-post from 2019, offered for your re-enjoyment. I’ve had a request for Mom’s cheese bread recipe again. I will re-post her recipe in the next TIE O’ THE DAY installment.]

Entwined hearts Bow Tie o’ the Day is perfect for Mom. I have been told she’s having an extremely tough time missing Dad recently. Even though he’s gone, their love lives. It’s a time/space continuum thing.

This photo was taken almost 20 years ago. I think Mom is in the kitchen at the Palomar. Most likely, this was a Thanksgiving bash. Check out Mom’s attack face. She is darn well gonna conquer those two loaves of cheese bread. And note the oven burns on the back of Mom’s hand. You’ve heard of rug burn. Well, this is cheese bread burn. She burned her hands on the oven coils every time she made cheese bread. Every time, I tell you. Mom never met an oven glove she’d use. She was strictly a dishtowel gal.

In our house, the electric knife was used for cutting only two things: carving turkey and slicing cheese bread. It was basically used only on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. And then the gadget was immediately put back in its little 70’s original box, and into the kitchen cupboard where Mom and Dad kept the checkbook. The knife laid in its skinny box all alone for 362 days a year. Poor thing. I should have put a bow tie in with it for company.

Mom’s cheese bread is a sacred food. Many of you have had the privilege of tasting Mom’s confections over the years, and you know she was an excellent all-around cook. But Mom’s cheese bread was something she made almost exclusively for family holiday dinners. It was a rare gem. And it was the key food item of those dinners. Dinner did not happen without the cheese bread. Kinds of salads changed. Different versions of potatoes joined the basic mashed potatoes. You’d think the turkey would be the star of these feasts, but it was always about the cheese bread.

And it was war. The most desired slices of cheese bread are the ends, where the cheese-to-bread ratio is the highest. If you managed to score one of the ends, it was only because you managed to steal one before someone else stole it.

At some point after dinner, there was what I’ll refer to as The Tri-Annual Battle Over the Tinfoil On Which the Cheese bread Was Cooked. The tinfoil cheese was like the cherry on top. It was like the prize in the cereal box. The foil was covered in baked-on, cheese bread drippings. Dad usually won that war. And then he would sit at the head of the table, picking carmelized blobs of cheese off the tinfoil—obnoxiously, so we couldn’t help but watch it happen. And we drooled through the torture of witnessing him gorge himself on the results of our defeat.

I have made this cheese bread for parties and dinners and potlucks in three states in this U.S. of A., and I can attest to its lusciousness. A couple of enemies became my friends because of this cheese bread. Its power knows no bounds. 🧀 🥖

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Deja Vu O’ The Bow Tie

Yes, I’m wearing the same Bow Tie o’ the Day and full garb as yesterday, because the photo of me really is from yesterday. Suzanne had to have out-patient foot surgery. While we were at the surgical center, I noticed this sign. I said to myself and Suzanne, “Whew! For a couple of reasons, that sign is of no concern to us. Thank goodness!”

Suzanne’s foot surgery went well, as far as we can tell for now. In this second photo—which is from today—you can see Suzanne “sleep-cuperating” on the love seat with Skitter’s aid. (There’s a tiny sliver of the love seat left for me at Skitter’s side.) As part of the surgery, Suzanne had to have a screw put in her hoof. Now, whenever Suzanne fusses at me about something, I can defend myself by replying, “Suzanne, you don’t even know what you’re talking about. Before you say one more thing to me, you better check on your foot—because I think you have a screw loose.” 😜 That will save me exactly once.