Tie o’ the Day is my version of a 21-doughnut salute to the crafty Suzanne, who crocheted me this amazing new hat one evening. I’m smitten by it, which means you’ll be seeing it again and again. It’s double thick—for those mega-chilly days when the cold stabs me to the bone. Suzanne is my hero, and she gallantly treats me like I’m her hero. At least one of us is a very lucky human being, and I’m positive it’s me. Note to self: Make it a point to thank Suzanne each day for all the bigly and little-ly things she does to make my life incredible. I suggest that if you’ve got people who treat you like you are the most magnificent creation on the planet, let them see your gratitude now. We’re only here temporarily. 🐝🦋
In my position as Chief Fashion Goddess here at TIE O’ THE DAY, I am often consulted about topics of style and attire. Recently, I was asked if a person can ever go overboard by wearing too much peacock garb at one time. My answer is a resounding, “No! It is not humanly possible to wear an overabundance of peacock paraphernalia. Too much is never enough—where the peacock theme is concerned.” These selfies are my proof. I mean—really, does it look like I’m overly peacocked? Do I look like a lunatic? Do I appear to be off my clothing rocker? Of course not. I look like the redneck poet that I am. 😜🤡
FYI My peacock Bow Tie o’ the Day was made with genuine peacock feathers.
Ties o’ the Day are all over the newest puzzle in our collection. Suzanne’s niece, Rachel, gifted the puzzle to me recently. Surprise gifts out of nowhere are important. It is always nice to be reminded someone knows exactly who you are and what you are all about. It is reassuring to know you are well regarded by a few folks in this non-stop, crazy life. Rachel knows I’m ties. I am extra amazed that she took the time to find me this puzzle treasure right now because she has been busy preparing for the birth of her third kid—which finally came to pass last night. Here he is, starring in his first TIE O’ THE DAY appearance—the one, the only, the handsome, the swaddled: Zeke. Zeke is the eagerly anticipated baby brother to Liam and Lukas. I have already picked out a bow tie and necktie with which to welcome Zeke to the planet. They are gift-wrapped with a tube of Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. Zeke will find these items come in plenty handy in this world. It is always a plus to present oneself fashionably, as well as to be free from diaper rash. 👔
Yesterday, Skitter and I packed our various water bottles into the truck and headed south to spend some time with Mom. It was a no-brainer for me when it came to choosing Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. The tie had to be Mona Lisa—a tie o’ beauty for a visit with my beautiful mother. Skitter and I were surprised to find Mom wasn’t wearing any earrings. It’s been quite a long while since we’ve seen her ears naked. She also didn’t mention my earrings, which she always does. She did mention liking Skitter’s tie a number of times. Of course, she remarked about Mona throughout the visit. She also made a bigly deal about liking the taco socks I was wearing. Mom told me she is content with not doing much anymore. She said, “All my life I did everything, all the time.” She took a long pause, looked into my eyes, and said, “But not all of me is here anymore. Do you know what I mean?” I told her I knew. I did not tell her how many years I’ve already missed so much of her. Nor did I tell her how she sometimes melts farther away from me, even as I am sitting right next to her. And I certainly didn’t tell her how helpless and ineffectual it makes me feel that there is not one damn thing I can do for her to make it stop. 🕯
I wasn’t a bit hungry this afternoon, but Suzanne had a hankering to eat bacon. Unfortunately, the only bacon we had in the house at the time was my bacon Tie o’ the Day. So, I changed out of my pajamas I planned to wear all day after having declared a Pajama Day for myself the minute I woke up this morning, with no intention to leave the house even to get the mail. I then spent a significant chunk of time and effort digging around in the Tie Room, in order to find the exact right piece of neckwear to wear in public while doing this errand. So then, I searched for, and found, my stray keys in a place where I have never, ever put them before. After 20 minutes of looking for my wallet, I finally located it in the back pocket of a pair of jeans which I had unintentionally kicked completely under the bed, so that the jeans were not even visible to the human eye. And finally, I trudged to the store—for the sole purpose of buying one, single, solitary package of bacon for Suzanne. After Suzanne cooked and ate the bacon I brought home, she said my single-item grocery trip was well worth it to her.🥓 Of course it was. To her. I aim to please.
Last night Suzanne and I ventured to The Eccles Theater in Salt Lake City, for a performance of AIN’T TOO PROUD: THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE TEMPTATIONS. It’s a Broadway musical not BY the Motown group, but ABOUT the group. If you’re too old to remember The Temptations, or if you’re too young to have a clue about the group, do yourself a favor and visit YouTube to watch a video or two of their classy synchronized dance moves which accompanied their complex vocals. The Temptations’ choreography was somehow simple but extravagant at the same time. The group’s tight moves were sweetly innocent, while simultaneously being slickly seductive. Their smooth moves were the equivalent of crushed velvet. The performances in this particular production at The Eccles stood up well to what can be seen in existing footage of the real shows. There are also the iconic songs themselves, like “My Girl,” “Just My Imagination,” and “Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone.” As always, my fave Temptations songs are the most desolate, bleakest songs in their catalog—like one of their lesser known hits, “I Wish It Would Rain.”
I used the night out as a chance to finally wear my silver floppy Bow Tie ‘o the Day for the first time. I won’t mention my lapel pin, although I stand by its sentiment.😏 I even wore a new jacket to last night’s show. Suzanne didn’t seem to like it though. It is cut differently than any other jacket in my closet, and the fabric’s brown plaid pattern is more traditional than what I usually cover myself with. After Suzanne first observed me in my jacket, all she kept saying was, “It’s not like what you wear. It’s not like what you wear.”—over and over again. It was as if the very sight of me in my differently-fangled jacket had stunned Suzanne into a mystical fog of confusion and repetition. Personally, my new jacket looks kind of Sherlock Holmes-y to me. Very Heathcliff-esque, if you know what I mean. I wore a splashy golf cap to balance things out.🕵️♀️🔍
I am not a loser of material things. I know the location of almost everything I own. Always have, always will. I also know where Suzanne’s things are. I don’t particularly try to know where her earthly goods are. I just seem to notice where she puts things down. When Rowan was growing up, we had a household mantra: “If you can’t find something, what’s the prudent thing to do? Ask Helen.” It was always amusing for me to watch Suzanne and Rowan try to hunt down their own possessions without giving in to the advice of our family mantra. The longer they searched for something on their own, the more their pride tightened around them. They were doggedly determined to not ask me where some sought-after object was to be found: they were dang well going to find whatever it was on their own, without my assistance. I observed it, every time it happened, with a quiet smirk on my face. I went about my business and waited. And then it would happen: I would hear a loud sigh, then a frustrated swear word would fill the house. Suzanne or Rowan would call my name in woeful desperation. “Helen, do you know where my whatever-was-lost is?” I would turn to see a needlessly shattered and defeated puddle of a human being I loved, finally humanly humbled enough to ask little old me for help in locating what usually turned out to be simple things around our house: items like a certain watch, a pair of pliers, a backpack, a set of keys, the 2012 tax records, a can opener, the stepladder, a shoe horn, etc.
I am not generally one who loses stuff. However, I am in fact a dropper of stuff. Although I have been a well coordinated and physically fit woman for most of my life, in the past few years I have gradually become a full-fledged dropper of small (mostly) things. And drop things, I do. I have developed slight tremors in my hands, and I have lost some feeling in my hands’ nerves. I can’t always feel if my grip on something is tight enough to hold it securely. So with hands that shake and may or may not be holding an object securely, I am a routine dropper o’ stuff like my keys, my fork, my pen, my meds, my drink, my bow tie. As an added bonus, sometimes the problem goes beyond merely dropping the object and moves into the realm of actually tossing it. I don’t knowingly throw anything that happens to escape my intended grasp. I’ll be hit by a spasm which will kind of swiftly, but unintentionally, toss the object a few feet away from my body. When this involuntary tossing happens, it is as if I’m being nice to the object and helping it in its sudden journey to the floor. It feels very strange to me, and I have no doubt it’s just another mostly harmless side effect that comes with aging. There’s a med for my wayward hands, which I take daily. It has significantly decreased my droppin’-‘n’-tossin’ the myriad of tiny objects I attempt to grasp.
The above should help explain the Tie o’ the Day I’m wearing in my selfie. Unlike my parents, who lost their television remotes on a near-daily basis in their old age, I regularly drop/toss my media remotes—so much so that our primary remote is now held together with a series of strategically placed rubber bands. Caught in my own pride trap, I refuse to buy a new remote. I and my numb hand tremors will not be defeated by a chunk of buttons and plastic. I will keep on inadvertently dropping my remote, and I will continue to patch it back together with rubber bands. I will not ask anyone for help. I can do it myself. That’ll show ’em!
I mentioned in a post a few months ago that the first poem I ever sold was to a magazine called The New Era, in the late 70’s. I was in 9th Grade at the time, and I blame my entire life of writing on the fact that I was paid for this poem. True, the check was for the measly sum of $7. But it gave me the far-fetched idea that I could make my writing pay off: I was convinced I wouldn’t have to starve for my art. Onward, I write. I’m still convinced I will one day write a million-dollar poem—even though there has never yet been a million-dollar poem written so far, in all of history. When I do finally do that impossible thing, I will buy drinks for y’all at the watering holes of your choice.
Anyhoo… While cleaning out a saggy, yellowed box today, I found the proof I sold that first poem in 1979. Here, you can see photos of the letter and envelope in which it came to me. The sold poem is here, as well. The postage on the envelope cost 15 cents. I had no idea I still had this evidence of a not-so-great-but-bought poem still kicking around in my life somewhere. I figured I needed to share it on TIE O’ THE DAY, so I can then throw it in the recycling and be done with it. The poem is flitty and light and forgettable, and that’s okay. I was too young a writer to know better. I’ve known better for decades now. Oh, FYI: “Asleep Down Under” never was published in the magazine. And I think I spent the $7 on a new cloth typewriter ribbon for the old Underwood typewriter my Grandma Wright let me borrow.
The poem also bothers me on a punctuation level because it has a semi-colon (;) in it. I abhor semi-colons and try to use them as little as possible when I write. I’m in love with dashes and hyphens, however. (I could write a series of posts about why I don’t like semi-colons, but I genuinely like y’all—so I won’t even threaten to do such an esoteric thing. Ain’t nobody wanna read about that.)As for the tie I’m wearing, I chose it because I thought the hula dancers Tie o’ the Day went well with the warm and casual outdoors-iness of the poem. They kind of match, so to speak.
Grandma Anderson made the tastiest cinnamon rolls I have ever eaten.Young and in love.I’m the gloved Munchkin in this photo.BT/Mercedes and Nuk met in an English class at Weber State—when it was just a college.
This hand-made Christmas stocking honoring Mom’s mom—Martha Lovell Anderson— was the last bit of holiday decor to be put away this year. Before I put it in a decoration bin, I easily turned it into Tie o’ the Day for a selfie by attaching it to my shirt with nothing more than a handy purple paperclip. The stocking, of course, has a December-y story.
When my oldest sister, BT/Mercedes, got hitched to Kent/Nuk in mid-December of 1967, Grandma Martha gifted the young couple two of her always-coveted, Martha-made quilts. One quilt was made using a log cabin pattern, and the other one used a double wedding ring pattern. Grandma also gave BT the direct order to use the quilts, not just keep them pristine on a shelf—to only be admired or used sparingly throughout their marriage. Use the quilts, BT and Nuk did for decades—until the blankets could no longer safely be washed without disintegrating. BT’s a creative gal, so she repurposed what was left of the two quilts by turning them into mantel-ready Christmas stockings which honored Grandma after her death. BT/Mercedes managed to make 15 of these socks out of the quilts’ remains—enough to give Mom and each of her sisters one; one for each of BT’s kids; as well as one for BT/Mercedes, me and the rest of our siblings. Amazing, isn’t it? By the way, three weeks ago, Betty and Kent celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary. That’s amazing, too. 👏🏻🙌👰🤵
But wait! There’s more! New Year’s Eve is always a double celebration in our family because it is also Nuk’s birthday. The Birthday Boy—who still wears his original Birthday Suit—turned 77 last week. But who’s counting?! 🎂🍾🎉
Here are a few old “photos” of my face in various X-mas guises; a couple of past holiday TIE O’ THE DAY selfies; and a wee collection of Christmas-related memes I enjoyed when they showed up on my computer screen this year. Enjoy!
I am Helen Skellington, with a bigly Bow Tie o’ the Day. (Say that name 3 times, really fast.)The suit suits me—but it needs a tie.My true self, right down to the toothache.Proud o’ my redneck heritage, always.My holidogs Tie o’ the Day.Just sayin.’I wish the creators of memes would double-check their spelling before they post them.Another point of view.A Coke nativity.For all of you last-minute gift shoppers.
