Category: Suzanne

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I’ve Been There, Done That, Seen That

[THIS IS A REQUESTED RE-POST OF A 2018 POST. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. AGAIN.]

I have seen the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean, from a castle turret on a hill on the west coast of Ireland. I have driven down Main Street in Delta, UT with a wind-blown tumbleweed the size of a Christmas tree stuck in the front grill of my car. I have mooned. I have streaked. I have sat naked in a lawn chair at a nude beach in Rehoboth, Delaware. I have canoed on the Potomac River while eating sushi.

In honor of the craziness of the Delta Fourth of July chairs-on-main-street-for-days custom, I have set up lawn chairs– and tied them together– on the side of the road in front of the Delta house, to create a fake 4th of July parade route, complete with horse poop and saltwater taffy scattered in the road. And Mom and I have sat in those lawn chairs, waiting for the parade that never came– just so people could see us and wonder. (And a parade did come by once. Story to be told later.)

I have drunk shots of pepper vodka on a picnic blanket, at an Allison Krauss concert, on the grass in front of the Washington Monument. I have driven in the West Desert for hours at night, with my lights off, while listening to music no one’s ever heard of. I have been trapped in a stuck elevator. I have played arcade games along the Jersey Shore. I have been to Six Flags amusement parks in three different states. I have returned a lost wallet.

I have taught every type of writing class they offer at The University of Utah and at Salt Lake Community College. I have led book groups for inmates at the Utah State Prison. I have taught writing in a middle school in inner-city Baltimore. I have twice run the Georgetown 10K in D.C. while drunk. I have seen Dad catch fish bare-handed. I have spent 24 hours in Boston, and I saw everything there was to see. I have seen over 100 concerts in my life. I have ice skated all the way across the Reservoir and back. I have had 2/3 of my pancreas hacked away. I have seen a jackalope and a chupacabra in the same night.

But the one thing I have not experienced until now is an event called FLANNELRAMA at JOANN’s.

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I have now seen and done everything. 

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Just Out Buying Suzanne’s Water And Skitter’s Chews

Houndstooth, floppy Bow Tie o’ the Day ventured to Walmart with me this afternoon. I would have been all alone otherwise. And I have to say that I’m loving my “Toadsuck” hat, which I got in Arkansas earlier this month. I bought a second cap which spells the place’s name with two words: Toad Suck– which is the correct way to spell it. I’m kinda thinking one of the reasons Toad Suck, AR is a sucky place is that some people there don’t know how to spell it. Or they don’t know how to spell it consistently. For example, I purchased this hat at the Toad Suck One-Stop convenience store. Did ya catch that? The store spells its name as two words (correct), but sells the one-word Toadsuck baseball caps.

In a previous post, I mentioned that Toad Suck wasn’t much more than a mud-flooded park area and the convenience store. But I am so glad I visited the place. In conversations now, if there’s a lull, all I have to do is say, “Been to Toad Suck lately?” And I can start out sentences thus: “When I was in Toad Suck, Arkansas….” All ears are peeled to hear what comes after those words. I try to come up with something interesting.

The name itself throws people off kilter. I can say things that are technically true, although there’s no way in the world they will actually happen. For example, I can say, “I’ve been thinking we should build a house in Toad Suck when we retire.” People don’t know what to think. I don’t have any intention to retire to any place called Toad Suck, but it’s not a lie to say I’m thinking of it because I have thought of it for long enough to say the sentence. And it’s worth saying the sentence to see people’s faces get quizzical about the place.

Nobody has to have heard of Toad Suck, AR before I bring it up, in order for it to grab their focus. The ridiculous name is enough to get people paying attention. I dare you: Use TOAD SUCK in a sentence when you’re talking to at least one person. Watch the face. You won’t regret it. And feel free to report the reactions.

BTW I’ve had a few people ask what Toad Suck means when they’ve seen me wearing the hats. One person looked downright scared to ask me about it, but the urge to ask was too strong. The power of two words!

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The Cleanin’ Out O’ The Saddle Purse

Every few months, I see the contents of Suzanne’s purse dumped out on the bed. I have learned this means it’s time for her to ferret through the contents, making decisions about what goes into the garbage, what gets filed where, and what gets returned to the empty carcass of the purse.

In April, when I finally bought the one and only purse I’ve ever owned, I vowed my Saddle Purse would never need one of these bigly archaeological digs for relevant purse inventory. Of course, I was wrong. In the short amount of time I have owned and used a purse, I have come to the conclusion that a purse naturally fills up to its gills. It’s the work of a purse to carry what we think we need, and we always need far too much. We put things in it, because it’s there.

My observations of Suzanne with her purses tells me the size of the purse doesn’t matter. She has all sizes of purses, and whatever purse she’s carrying at any given time inevitably ends up overflowing. The smaller the purse, the quicker the next purse-cleaning happens.

This morning, I opened The Saddle Purse to what you see here. It was time. Some things must leave the purse. How in the world did this happen? I have become a true purse lady.

These photos show the closed Saddle Purse (with Bow Tie o’ the Day sticking out), the opened Saddle Purse, and the dumped-out pile of its contents. Stay tuned for the next post, where you will see the complete inventory. And let me say right now that even I was surprised at a couple of things I found inside.

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My Eyes Are Open

Tie o’ the Day is only one delightful part of my carefully chosen ensemble. I had to hie to a speshul Homeowners Association (HOA) meeting at the Centerville Branch of the Davis County Library system a few evenings ago. Suzanne was attending her book club, so I was on my own. People, if you have never been to a HOA meeting, consider yourself lucky.

No matter how important any topic on the agenda of these meetings might be, the meetings are kinda dull. I have not yet fallen asleep in one, but as I get older, it gets harder to keep the old eyeballs and earballs on the task at hand. I mean– there are pages of numbered articles, rules, laws, bylaws, and notes to suffer through. Snore. So I came up with this clashy attire, hoping to keep me and my fellow meeting-goers awake with the warring of my fabric patterns and colors. You’ll just have to use your imagination about how the cut-offs and cowboy boots added to the look. I didn’t think to take a photo of them. And don’t think I didn’t have The Saddle Purse on my shoulder.

I could have skipped the HOA meeting altogether, but I don’t want to take the chance the other owners might vote for something stoopid. In fact, there is one old bat owner (the truth hurts, but it’s still true) who seems to read the HOA bylaws as religiously as some people do their daily scripture study– and she wants everyone to know it. Her interpretations of the rules often do not have anything to do with the real legalities involved. In fact, the simpler the rule, the more she seems to have to fuss about it.

As a responsible member of my community, I consider it part of my duty in life to cancel out this woman’s wacky HOA vote, whenever necessary. And I want to be in the meeting to see it canceled. I take no glee in her defeats, but canceling out her HOA vote ensures the rest of us reasonable community regulations.

At this particular meeting, she piped up about the inadequate length of the towel hooks hanging on the swimming pool restroom doors. She spent a bigly chunk of time on that “issue.” I had to suppress my urge to hand her $10 so she could go across the street to Home Depot and buy a screwdriver and whatever size towel hooks she wants on the pool restroom doors. I wanted to tell her I’ll even switch out the hooks myself if she just won’t make us spend one more boring moment of our collective time listening to her talk about this “calamity.”

But I sat there, quiet and polite. I always do. I listen to her with an open mind every time, hoping for an important and/or useful idea to come out of her mouth. There’s nothing “wrong” with the woman. I think the woman wants to contribute. I think she wants to be knowledgeable. Most importantly, I think she wants to stretch out the length of the meetings because she is just plain lonely. That the woman is lonely is an assumption Suzanne and I share, after spending many HOA meetings with her.

Folks, there’s always more going on with people than meets the eye, and you might not always be able to learn exactly what it is. Simply be patient, always. Simply be kind, always. And remember: You’re not dead yet, and you just might find you’ve become a lonely old bat in your own belfry one day, in need of the exact right towel hook and a friend who knows how to really listen and not be rude. Just sayin’.

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It Takes A Pickles Gap Village

The same day we drove to check out the amazing Toad Suck (as described in this morning’s post), yellow flower Bow Tie o’ the Day and I made sure we got to Pickles Gap. Pickles Gap Village is a tiny conglomeration of a half-dozen businesses on a bigly Conway, AR corner property. Pickles Gap Village boasts a playground, restaurant, fudge shop, tiny outdoor concert venue, 2 clothing boutiques, and “antique” stores. I use the term “antique” to cover the likes of thrift stores, secondhand stores, vintage stores, consignment shops, as well as antique stores. Whatever term you want to give these stores, they were everywhere we went. They were as ever-present in Arkansas as the churches. I expected boatloads of churches, but the prevalence of antique stores was a bigly surprise.

Suzanne spent so much time in one of the combo antique/boutique’s at Pickles Gap that I was certain she had moved in. She ended up finding “birthday” jewelry, of course. And “birthday” clothing, which was not a birthday suit. She already has one of those. I saw the blinged-out bow tie purse, but I didn’t need it. I have The Saddle Purse, so I shall forever pine for no other purse.

We enjoyed the antique store owners. They loved their stores. They loved each and every item on the shelves, and they knew stories about the objects and their people. Chatting with the salespeople was enlightening and jovial. We felt at ease and valued in every business. The owners/salespeople were interested to know our stories too. They asked as many questions as we did, I think.

Hey! In one of the Pickles Gap Village antique stores, I spied this little trough of plastic toy soldiers, with a thoughtful reminder to pray for real soldiers.

A common farewell we got from salespersons in almost every business as we left was, “Have a blessed day!” I loved saying, “You, too” in response to that sentiment. It doesn’t matter if you’re a believer in any god or religion, or in the idea of blessings. It matters that you can recognize others are telling you they wish your life to be smothered in good. They want to send positive vibrations your way. Look for those vibes/blessings. Find them. Be grateful for them. And then, send the hope back out there.

Have a blessed day, folks.

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The Bigly And The Not-so-bigly

At the end of our Blanchard Springs Caverns tour, we had to be taken by bus back to the entrance and visitor’s center parking lot. Our tour guide and the bus driver told us we MUST visit the nearby waterfall. We didn’t even know the waterfall existed. They assured us it would be worth our time to drive there because it was spectacular. They let us know we could even swim and walk under and behind the waterfall. They had me wishing I had worn my stripey, old-timey swimming suit that day. We listened carefully to the detailed directions they gave us, and we left the parking lot determined to find this scenic, watery wonder.

We found the ‘fall, as shown by the photo. The waterfall’s not-so-bigliness is not a trick of photography. We are standing about 20 feet from it. Even magnetic, wood polka dot Bow Tie o’ the Day was disappointed. Suzanne and I just kind of stood there for a few minutes, stunned. We knew we were at the right waterfall, cuz other tourists were there gawking at the thing, but… I have a difficult time thinking folks in the Ozarks– or tourists to the Ozarks– think this is a breathtaking waterfall, so I’m mystified about what makes it visit-worthy. Is it just the ONLY waterfall in the Ozarks? Well, I know that can’t possibly be the case. We left that sight pretty quickly, then drove to Mountain View to grab some lunch, and window-shop before heading back to our condo in Fairfield Bay.

[Mountain View ended up being an unexpectedly memorable place for me. It’s where Suzanne found a cowboy boot place she thought I’d be interested in. She wrangled me in through its door, and I found my cowboy boots. More on the boots, in a future post.]

The lawn chairs photo shows the entrance to the resort where we stayed in Arkansas. The chairs are as oversized as the waterfall was puny. In fact, I think the chairs are taller than the waterfall. I’m estimating the chairs are around 9 feet tall. I should have placed bow ties on them, or sat on one myself before taking the pic. That way you would have a more accurate idea of the chairs’ size. I’ll be honest with you though: when I stopped to take this snapshot, I was grouchy. It had been a long day, and I was hungry, tired, and needed to pee. All I wanted to do was get back to the condo. I slept like a baby that night, but I ran out of vacay time to go back and stage me and the bow ties on the chairs for proper photos. I guess I’ll have to go back so I can get those shots for y’all. Arkansas is a do-over for me.

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And We Saw Bats, Too

Magnetic, polka dot Bow Tie o’ the Day went along with us to the Ozark – St. Francis National Forests, where we did a somewhat touristy thing. We went on a tour of Blanchard Springs Caverns– a bigly cave with bigly “rooms.” Up and down, we went. 700 stairs, according to our tour guide.

I have only visited one other cave in my many-adventure life– Lehman Caves near Baker, NV– so I don’t have a plethora o’ caves with which to compare it, but I can attest Blanchard Springs Caverns was nowhere near as “tight” as Lehman Caves. It was spacious. In fact, the cave was cavernous! It was also nice to be out of the South’s humidity for a couple of hours, despite the 700 stairs.

Based on the only two caves I’ve toured, my verdict is that if you’ve seen one cave, you have NOT seen them all. I believe I have a cave or two left in my travel itinerary before I and my bones are too decrepit to spelunk.

BTW Do you know what Suzanne wanted from the gift shop at Blanchard Springs Caverns? A whetstone with which to sharpen our kitchen knives. She can be as unusual in her purchases as I am. But, as far as I know, she does not intend to start a whetstone collection as I have done with my neckwear. There’s simply no more space in The Tie Room anyway.

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The Photos That Never Were

This post answers a question I have no doubt you’ve lost sleep over: “Does Helen E. wear a bow tie when she swims?” Bow Tie o’ the Swimming-in-Arkansas reveals the obvious answer. Why, yes. Yes, I do.

Have I said I love my old-timey swimming suit lately? Love it, I do. I really could have worn it the entire vacation because of the high humidity. I was practically doggy-paddling through the water-logged air everywhere we went.

These pool photos aren’t all that exciting, although I did a whole program of entertaining swimming pool moves. It’s Suzanne’s fault there are no photos capturing my award-worthy, watery feats. Suzanne and I were bobbin’ around in the pool, and when she got out, I said it was time for her to take my TIE O’ THE DAY pix. I saw her sit on her lounger and pick up her phone. It was pointed in my direction. That was my cue. I popped up and out of the water like a porpoise a couple of times. I did a few bodybuilder poses while standing in the shallow end of the pool. I sang a wet YMCA and spelled it out with my arms exactly how you’re supposed to do it. I walked like an Egyptian. Suzanne’s phone was still pointing straight at me in the water.

However, when Suzanne grabbed her phone, she noticed a bigly bunch of text messages had come through. She promptly forgot about taking pix of me and my hijinks. Of course, I was unaware she was distracted by people who weren’t even in Arkansas. I assumed the phone in front of her face was snapping shots of my poses for all to see.

But no. Nope. No way. It turns out I spent a speshul twenty minutes in the pool being wacky and pleasantly buoyant, and I have no photographic evidence to show for it. When I got out of the pool to lounge on my lounger, Suzanne told me about the debacle. I headed back into the water and attempted to re-create my show. Suzanne was right there shooting pix of me this time, but our efforts were to no avail. I had worn myself out with my first performance. I had no obnoxious water-posing left in me, as you can plainly see.

Thinking about the no-photo session when Suzanne didn’t take pictures of me made me do something I rarely do. I got slightly embarrassed. I had been clowning around and splashing, and I was doing it in front of a crowd full of everyone’s attention but Suzanne’s, and she is always my target audience. Doh!

Oh well. My embarrassment did not last long. I feel bad Suzanne missed my Esther Williams-style production, but I most likely amused at least some of the other pool-goers. They’ll have stories to tell when they go back home. And, above all, I got to wear my stripey, old-timey swimming suit and swim in Bow Tie o’ the Swimming-in-Arkansas. Once again, I live a bigly life.

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Adventures In Bipolarity And Guitars

I must apologize for the irregular posting this week. I have more Arkansas posts to write but I’ve had odd bipolar spells since I got home from our Ozarks vacation. My storyteller has gone kaput, temporarily I’m sure.

I tried to explain to Suzanne what my brain is doing, and the best I could come up with is this: it seems as if I can feel each and every one of my blood cells race through me, while simultaneously feeling the kind of exhaustion that will drag me to sleep if I sit down and close my eyelids for more than four seconds. It’s the worst of both poles. But this too shall pass, and so I’m fine.

Anyhoo… I’ll get back to sharing tidbits from our mountain redneck trip as soon as I can. But for right now, here are some pix from last night’s BAND OF HORSES concert at The Union, in SLC. Yeah, we saw them in April in Las Vegas, but we had to get another listen. Yeehaw! Solid performance, once again. The opening act was Nikki Lane, who twanged Suzanne into a tizzy. Suzanne does not do twang. Personally, I would have preferred to listen to the clever Kacey Musgraves, but I can’t complain. BAND OF HORSES speaks to me.

Horseshoe Bow Tie o’ the Concert made sure I brought along my Saddle Purse, which Suzanne was good enough to hold for our snapshots. The photo of me being blurry is a telling illustration of my agitated state of mind and body, with my manic blood cells doing their jigs and all.

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I Got My Wings, After Whining To The Flight Attendant

The day we flew away to Arkansas, whose nickname is apparently The Natural State, was also Suzanne’s birthday. She joins me in the double nickels of 55-dom. The photo here of Suzanne and her birthday “cake” is from two birthdays ago, in Delta– our last summer there. I am proud of the potato chip cake I made her. Suzanne and potato chips are tight. I’m betting this cake’s one of her fave birthday cakes ever. Hint: Don’t ask her to share her potato chips with you. You will lose an arm or two. If you wanna eat chips, it’s strictly BYOC.

Because we were in planes and airports on her birthday this year, it wasn’t possible for me to throw Suzanne a party. But as I sat on the plane, I suddenly remembered the potato chip cake from 2017, so I bought Suzanne the teeny, teeny, teeny can of Pringles they sell on the plane for bigly dollars. The it’s-Suzanne’s-birthday-so-she-must-be-presented-with-potato-chips tradition lives!

For her birthday, I gave Suzanne something she deserves. I gave her peace and quiet from me. I can be tiring, and she needed a break– especially before a bigly dose of vacation with me. On the flight from SLC to Atlanta, we watched different movies. On the flight from Atlanta to Little Rock, our seats weren’t near each other, and I didn’t do what I’ve done before on the rare occasions when that’s happened: I didn’t persuade other people to switch seats so Suzanne and I could sit together. Nope, I sat in my assigned seat four rows behind her. I gave her an intermission from the variety show I seem to have been born to be. I gave her all the stillness one can get in a commercial jet plane filled to its gills with passengers.

BTW I also knew she would find “birthday” jewelry in Arkansas. I was exactly right about that.