Category: Suzanne

Posted on

Merry 9th Anniversary To Us: Part 1

On our way out of Log Haven, after a glorious meal of celebration and gratitude for each other.
We took a selfie by the coats. Nobody else does that.
Isn’t Suzanne dreamy?
Suzanne opted for the salmon.
I chose the tenderloin with asparagus and mashed potatoes.
A little bit o’ blur doesn’t matter when you are having a splendid time.
Even through the blur, you can see our happiness seeping through.

Log Haven is quickly becoming our go-to restaurant for our anniversary dinner. I sense it’s a tradition in the making. Because we got married so close to Christmas, we think of our Log Haven dinner as sort of a combination Anniversary/Christmas evening in the snowy mountains.

We never intended to get hitched so near Christmas. We never knew when, or if it, would be legal for us to marry at all in our lifetime. And then suddenly, it was legal in Utah. Maybe. On Friday, December 20, 2013, the state of Utah began issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples, based on a U. S. District court’s ruling that day which found barring same-sex couples from legally marrying violates the U. S. Constitution. However, there was to be another court hearing on Monday, December 23rd that could possibly stay or even throw out the ruling. We had to get a marriage license ASAP, just in case the whole possibility to marry went kaput.

The problem was that we were already decking the halls in Delta for the holidays, and it was late on Friday afternoon when we got the news. All the County Clerk’s offices in Utah were closed for the weekend. We knew we had to get a license and get married as early as possible on Monday morning—before the hearing that might possibly shatter our nuptial dreams. But where would we be able to get married? We stayed stuck to the news on tv and on our phones all throughout the weekend. Some County Clerks around Utah had been wishy-washy about issuing marriage licenses to people like us, even if they had been told they had to follow the law.

By Sunday night, we had decided we had a better chance of being able to get a marriage license if we just skipped over the iffy rural counties around us and drove north. That night, we told Mom we wouldn’t be around the next day because we were running off to get married. She was happy for us and would have come with us, but she wasn’t feeling all that well. I told her not to worry about missing out on the momentous event. I told her we thought it be fun to elope anyway. Early Monday morning, we drove out of Millard County, through Juab County, and into Utah County—where we stopped in Provo at the County Clerk’s office. We walked in and told the woman behind the desk why were there. She handed Suzanne and I papers for us to fill out. We thought: so far, so good. As we filled out our documents, other couples came in and hurriedly got to work on their own license paperwork. We had completed our paperwork, when the woman behind the desk was talking to another person and said, “The County Clerk has decided he’s not going to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples.” Hold on! Back the truck up! I said, “When we first walked into this office, we told you why we came here. You gave us the proper paperwork to fill out. Why didn’t you tell us we couldn’t get a marriage license when we first walked in?” Duh. Crickets.

This was wrong in a million ways. By this time, the legal hearing that could stay or reverse our shot at getting married was underway. We were running out of time. Fortunately, reporters from The Salt Lake Tribune were there when Suzanne and I walked out, and one asked if we wouldn’t mind talking to them. He listened, took my name, and one of my quotes showed up in The Trib the next morning. I’m sure nobody in Delta thought for a minute that the quote from “Helen Wright from Delta” came from Mom, although when she read it, she said she agreed with me completely. Anyhoo…we had to decide where to drive next to secure a marriage license. Stay tuned.

Posted on

A Christmas Day Gathering

This brightly colored Tie o’ the Day made the newest member of Suzanne’s family oh-so happy on his first Christmas. This is Bracken, and he and Tie bonded mightily at Suzanne’s parents’ annual Christmas afternoon family get-together. I plan on leaving Bracken’s slobber crusted on the tie, then gifting the tie to him some Christmas when he’s a teenager—so he can be properly and simultaneously embarrassed and amused.

Posted on

Christmas: Judgment Day

According to one Xmas present Suzanne gave me, my behavior last year got me onto Santa’s “naughty” list. I tried so hard to be good, but I won’t argue about the results. I trust Suzanne’s judgment. I didn’t just get a regular lump o’ coal for Christmas, I received a “Big Ass” lump o’ coal—in the form of an oversized bar o’ soap. I know the lump o’ coal soap is a sign I was bad, but the soap smells so heavenly I might want to earn a spot on the naughty list again this year, so I can be gifted another mellifluous “big ass” bar o’ charcoal soap for the sole purpose of washing all of my bad away.

It might surprise y’all to know that Mom has surpassed me in being naughty every year, for decades. She’s better than me, even at being bad. Every Christmas, she got an entire mountain of coal as a present from Dad. Visions of toasty fires, 24/7, in our living room fireplace danced in her head. I kid you not: Mom started a fire in the fireplace upon the occasion of late September’s first chill, and that fire kept going until at least April. She took great pleasure in feeding the fireplace one lump o’ her naughty coal after another, through winter and far into spring if the temperatures were still wintry. Yup, around the holiday season, Dutson’s would deliver at least a half-ton of coal chunks behind our house. The taller the coal pile, the happier Mom was with it. Mom thought it was the best gift every year. She tended to the fire in the fireplace as if it were one of her grandkids learning to swim. She kept her eye on the fire’s progress, and fulfilled its every need. Mom’s fire always gave off perfect warmth and was maximum gorgeous. She loved her lumps of coal, and she loved telling people that a pile o’ coal was the Christmas gift Dad thought she deserved. 🔥

Posted on

Mom Deserves To See Double

I wasn’t available to post yesterday. We made an early Xmas visit to Mom’s kingdom, for my true Christmas morning. I knew I would wear the leg lamp Tie o’ the Day for our visit, because Mom loves it so. But she also likes the tie on which Richie wears—and abhors—the bunny pajamas. I decided a two-fer festive Tie o’ the Day was necessary for our get-together. (She made a bigly deal about how much she liked my “ugly sweater”-ish green holiday jacket.) Skitter was a constant at Mom’s side, in all her elf-collar glory. When I pulled the phone out for pix, Mom playfully showed off one of the soft peppermints we brought her. I showed Mom a couple of Christmas “stockings” she had made me over my kidhood, and she remembered them, mostly. As you can see in the first photo, Suzanne and I found Mom the perfect Santa hat for her gift: it matches her purple housecoat AND it sports a tiara—befitting Mom’s eternal Queen Bee status. As Mom drank from a convenience store Coke with lots of ice—which she said her friend, Dot, had brought her earlier that morning—she said to me and Suzanne, “I’ll drink FOR you, and TO you, and WITH you kids—for ANY reason, ANY time.” She was having such a good time. She sounded like she had been drinking eggnog with extra whisky in it. I’ll have to quiz Dot about what she really put in that drink she brought Mom.

Posted on

I Will Always Love Dolly

There’s close to 5 inches of snow on the ground this morning, and it’s still coming down, albeit lightly. I’ve declared a Pajama Day for myself, which includes wearing my sleep cap to keep my head and ears warm. I’ve also donned my Santa-hatted yellow lab puppies Bow Tie o’ the Day, and selected a book Suzanne gave me a while back for my morning reading—the Dolly Parton book, SONGTELLER. In this book, Dolly writes about her life and how she came to craft the lyrics of songs she has penned over the decades. It’s fascinating reading, whether or not you’re a Dolly fan. Excellence is excellence, no matter where you find it. Personally, I think Dolly’s songwriting is on par with that of Leonard Cohen or Joni Mitchell—although in an entirely different manner. In keeping with the vibe of TIE O’ THE DAY, I give you a photo of Ms. Parton wearing her own Tie o’ the Day, on what appears to be the set of the film, 9-5. 📄 🎼

Posted on

Eatin’ Out Fancy For T-giving Dinner

Yup, we went to BAMBARA again this year for our Feast o’ Thanks. It was chilly enough outside that I brought out my Suzanne-made wintry cape for Thanksgiving 2022. I went with a Tie o’ the Day festooned with a prominent pumpkin pie. I am including a picture of the menu, so you can see how yummified our eats were. And everything brought to our table was superior. I was partial to the dessert, of course. Suzanne and I were both pleasantly surprised by the tart green beans. Suzanne chose what turned out to be, according to her face, a do-over bottle of a Riesling wine. She granted me permission to smell her filled glass, and even from merely sniffing, I could tell the wine would have a splendid taste. For my part, I drank four Diet Cokes throughout dinner. I swear I felt a bit tipsy.

As we were finishing up and getting ready to leave, Suzanne gave me a look, and I gave her a look. We had been thinking the same thing at exactly the same time. She whispered it first: “I want us to buy that guy’s Thanksgiving dinner.” I told her I was just going to propose the same thing to her. There was a guy sitting a few tables from us, eating all alone. He looked really, really alone. And so we paid for his meal and left before he was informed someone already paid his check. We hope it perked him up.

Posted on

Lookin’ Good, I Must Say

Suzanne came home from work one day recently and I said, “Suzanne! I just got the ugliest golf shirt ever! You’ve got to see it!” When I showed her this Shirt o’ the Day, she was gobsmacked. She was stricken and pale. I could see the nausea take over her face. “Isn’t it cool?” I beamed! I knew the shirt would go with ALL of my golf pants. In the first photo, you will note that I have pulled up my pants to old-man-in-a-hat level, as high as I could pull them up. A while back, I ordered a new Thanksgiving Tie o’ the Day. Unfortunately, the tie material had been cut such that there is not one headed turkey displayed on the front of the tie. On the back of the tie, however, turkey heads abound. Hey, it’s a look. 🦃

Posted on

Sing With Me: These Are A Few Of My Favorite Truck Things

When I was ordering my truck in 2021, Suzanne piped up and said, “We’re ordering the heated seats!” I saw no reason to go the luxury route, but it was a must-have for her. I teased her while we waited, and waited, and waited for the truck to be built that waiting for Ford to get the parts for the heated seats was what was holding up the truck’s production for so long—and I’m still convinced it was. If she hadn’t wanted us to order the luxury package, I have no doubt my truck would have been here a couple of months after I ordered it, instead of the 10 long months it actually took to be built. Suffice it to say, Suzanne’s fave things about Abra are the heated seats and the heated steering wheel. I am learning to appreciate the fancy extra heat. As for me, the first time I drove the truck, I had no idea my seat heat was already turned on. Suddenly my butt was warming up. I felt as if I had accidentally peed my pants. It felt like when you have an MRI and the technician injects that contrast or whatever. They tell you it will make your whole body feel warm and might even make you feel like you’ve peed yourself. Yup, that’s how it felt. Wow! Just WOW!

Oddly, my fave thing about the truck so far is the little dial on the center console that I must turn in order to change gears. It’s just so funky. I also like that every person who has ridden in the back seats has commented on how spacious it feels. It seems I can please my backseat drivers without even trying, so maybe they’ll quit trying to tell me how to drive from back there. I also like that Abra gets nearly 30 miles per gallon, which is why I chose to wear my fuel pumps Tie o’ the Day for this selfie. Also, if I’m listening to music on my phone when I get in the truck, the music immediately and automatically switches over to Abra’s speakers. Yup, regarding my Maverick, I’m a spoiled and happy girl. Abra is a valued member of our family.

When I was driving us home last weekend, Suzanne told me that when no other cars are around, I drive as if I learned to drive out in the desert, with lots of space—which, of course, I did. She said I drive like a farmer. She says I make wide turns and I sort of mosey along, mostly in the right lane. I do not deny any of this. When no other cars are around, I tend to meander. But I do disagree with the farmer comparison. I corrected Suzanne: I drive like a beekeeper. Not that it is really all that different from driving like a farmer. But I am proud of my coverall-wearing, bee veil-hatted, apiarian agriculture way of driving. It is part of who I am. Call me a hick if you feel so inclined. I won’t take that as an insult. 🐝 🚜 ⛽️ 👩‍🌾

NOTE: Unbeknownst to me, even as I posted about our recently put-together banned books puzzle earlier this week, yesterday I saw an article in this week’s Millard County Chronicle Progress about a Millard School Board meeting where there was talk of banning certain books from the Delta High School library. I was disgusted. My next post will revisit the consequences of book banning. It is, believe it or not, a matter of life and death: kids can literally die when so-called “bad” books are made unavailable to them. And that is not an exaggeration. Stay tuned for a difficult fact or two, as well as some personal anecdotes I never planned to divulge. But it’s time for me to do my tiny part to help defend books.

Posted on

Mr. Nuk’s Wild Ride

Finally! Nuk got his ride in my new truck. He’s a groovy bro-in-law. Of course BT/Mercedes—my oldest sister—and Suzanne rode with us as we snaked through the roads of Pleasant View and North Ogden. We even made a pilgrimage past the original Floyd’s house. (In case you don’t remember, Floyd was the most uninteresting professor I had during my time as a student at Weber State.) Before our ride, we had a lively chat and laugh fest. Nuk and BT/Mercedes are two of the best and funniest people I have ever known. I lived with them a couple of times when I was going to WSU, and I consider the time I spent in their house as absolute fun. I always felt safe and loved there, at a time in my life when I didn’t even know I most needed to feel safe and loved. You know—like anyone who is 17, I was young enough to know all the answers. I didn’t need anything or anybody: I was invincible. Nuk and BT/Mercedes loved me anyway. Now that I’m old enough to know none of the answers, they still love me. I am a lucky littlest sister.

Please note that the Bow Tie o’ the Day I chose to wear for our Maverick ride was one I rarely wear for hours at a time—because it’s very heavy. Bow Tie was crafted out of a bike tire inner tube. I especially like that it shows off its patch and its air stem.

Tune in later today for an official introduction to my new truck. You will even learn its name, and you’ll learn the story of why I couldn’t order a license plate with its name on it.

Posted on

Rowan’s Belated Birthday Brunch

Although Rowan’s 25th birthday was weeks ago, in August, everybody’s schedules were such that we couldn’t find a time to get together with him for a celebratory brunch, until two Sundays ago. Suzanne and I finally met up with Rowan and his flame, Cameryn, at Finn’s Cafe in Sugarhouse—where we wore the birthday party hats for a total of maybe 90 seconds, so I could snap TIE O’ THE DAY photos. Suzanne, Rowan, and Cameryn are always good to indulge me in my TO’TD efforts. For the festive occasion, I did not choose to wear my birthday balloons bow tie, as I often do for birthdays. Instead, I went with the wood, puzzle piece TIE O’ THE DAY, which is fun, but it was also more in keeping with my inner mood of that day. I was trying to fit together some big answers to a big puzzle: how could Oakley be gone?

You see, I knew that near the end of this previously scheduled brunch celebration in honor of Rowan, it would be my job to relate to him the news about Oakley’s death. Suzanne and I had been with her in the hospital room as she passed away just the night before. Rowan and Oakley spent a lot of time around each other when they were younger, despite a seven-year age difference. Since it had been a few years since Rowan and Oakley had seen each other, I did not anticipate the news would hit Rowan as hard as it did. As a parent, I hurt for him as he teared up and struggled to process the unbelievably terrible information. As a parent, I was also proud of him that he had grown into the kind of person who still carried a tiny cousin named Oakley in his heart, despite how much time had passed since they hung out together. I am now certain he will carry his love for her—and for all “the kids” in his Delta family—with him throughout his entire life. I could see Rowan is beginning to understand the magnitude of the loss of even one person in a family. He is wrestling with the loss of our incredible Oakley, who will not live an adulthood, as he has the opportunity to do. Rowan was moved enough to feel both honored and obliged to say a few words at her graveside. Our Rowan was a grown man in his grief. As such, he is trying to put together the pieces of the existential puzzle—as are we all.