Top Ten Reasons My Family Hates Me

Good day, Blogpals,

Okay, admit it. You thought T/T-M/M/L/E had blogged her last. Real life had finally gotten the best of me. Actually, real life has gotten the worst of me, and YOU, my friend-fams, have gotten the best of me! Read on. As the year comes to an end, I've decided to reflect on my life. I'm sharing my thoughts with you. Are you ready? Here are the top ten reasons my family hates me....


10. I forgot my great-nephew's names on my Christmas letter. That's right, I welcomed 3 new Bridwell clanbabies, but forgot the fourth: Drew Kirby, Kit's adorable bambino. I have offered to feature him prominently in next year's Christmas letter.

9. I get people into trouble without even trying. In my Christmas letter, I bragged about my daughter-in-law Megan setting up my printer. This led to her own mother wondering why she never did such things for her which led to Megan spending Christmas day setting up her own mother's printer and DVD..and well, you get the picture. I just never learn to keep my mouth shut.

8. I can't make decent Christmas cookies as you can see from "Mr. Snowman". Well, at least we did get a lot of laughs out of our attempts. Thank God for Teresa Foster who takes pity on the O'Connells throughout the year and provides us with properly constructed, perfectly baked sugar cookies while we burn batches while doing I don't know what at the kitchen table and not hearing the buzzer.

7. I have irrational fears of opening my front door or the garage door. I am nearly an agoraphobic once I get into my house. For one thing, it's been freezing cold here and everyone but me seems to think our outdoor cat deserves to come inside and warm up. The cat heartily agrees and tries to worm its way inside every time I open either door. Now, tell me, why did God give the creature a free fur coat?? For another, we had yet another wild animal episode last week with a possum getting into our garage because a certain person left the garage door open "just a bit" so the cat could get to her heating-pad, space heater-warmed bedstead. The man of the house resorted to Nancy's internet-fueled suggestions of throwing ammonia-soaked cotton balls at the critter which seemed to bring on another internet-supported condition -- a frozen state of shock (on the possum's part, that is). For the record, animal control doesn't consider possums in the garage an emergency, only possums in the house. So, now I'm afraid that a possum or a cat will attack me should I open any of my doors... You should see the recycling and garbage piling up at my door...

6. I forgot to turn on the oven Christmas Day and we ate 3 hours late...Yeah, this is a new one, even for me. I had to ply them with shrimp, crackers, cheese, beer, wine, whatever.

5. I fix food they hate. That's right. They all complained about having ham for Christmas and wanted lasagna instead.

4. I give them wastebaskets for Christmas. Isn't Cody (Molly's boyfriend) cute showing his off?

3. I can't use my new cell phone. If you get a text from me that reads "a...," it means, "Hi, how are you?" Just don't expect me to write back or to read what you write back. I don't have a clue, and Nancy is out of town. Bob and I have nearly resorted to cans and strings for our communication. (You young readers won't know what that means..)

2. I haven't mastered my new Kindle yet. Tim (the dear boy) patiently showed me how, but my success so far has been in turning it on, but having to ask Bob how to turn it off..

1. I blog instead of trying to improve myself. I could be reading my cell phone manual right now or perfecting my sugar cookies, but I am writing to you instead, dear friend-fams.


Hope you all have a happy new year! Now I expect you all to comment and tell me why you LOVE me!! Or even more reasons why you don't. I don't care, just say something.

Hamming it up,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Caked in Tradition

Hello, Sunday Slackers,

Is it snowy and below zero where you are? If so, I'll be happy to provide you with some cooking advice. See what great results you can get? You, too, can "bake ahead" like me and be ready for the holidays. The photos capture my trademark "lemon cake". I know what you're thinking, "That cake certainly looks like a lemon to me." I included it to make you feel good about yourself. If you haven't wasted your time and dirtied your kitchen, you're a step ahead of me..which isn't saying much...I've already had a minor "Christmas miracle". Promise you won't tell?? About 3 weeks ago, I discovered that I had lost the Master card. Not wanting to upset anyone, I kept this information mostly to myself. I checked online every day to confirm that no bandit was buying big screen TVs. Why the secrecy? Well, you see, I have a bit of a reputation to live down. I recently lost my driver's license. And earlier this week a young man called and woke up Nancy saying he had found my cell phone on the ground out side the bookstore. I hadn't missed it. And to make matters worse, Nancy lost the Master card twice last year, so losing Master cards is a sore subject around here. Christmas is a bad time to do this, too, as Bob makes his yearly trip to the mall about now with --you guessed is --his Master Card. Just when I thought I would have to fess up, an envelope arrived in the mail. The contents? New Master cards! Unbeknownst to me, our cards were expiring in January anyway, so I was saved from myself!..In other news, my friend and I took our elderly former neighbor out for lunch. While at the nursing home, I spied another former neighbor. As I walked over to greet her, I could tell that she didn't know who I was. I explained myself, and she replied, "You've gained ten pounds and gotten old." At least one reader will know who this is if I reveal her initials : RG. I wanted to say, "Do you find yourself a little short on visitors, R?" But my good manners kept me from doing any such thing...So, I hope you feel good about yourself after reading this. You are superior to me, a spaced out "loser" (both figuratively and literally) whose only talent is raving on.


Old, bold, and a sight to behold,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth


P.S. Remember that I have no idea how to change the order of the pictures, but you can figure out the order, cant' you?

Giving It My Best Shot

Hi, Blogmates,

Lots of things annoy my husband (I won't mention any names here), but this one took me by surprise... He hates it when people say, "Shoot me an e-mail." He claims he never has and never would use such terminology. I had not really thought about this particular misuse of the English language, so I have been surreptitiously observing my office mates the past few days to see how many "shooters" I can find. You could say it's open season in my office as everyone is either shooting or being shot at all day long. Well, shoot, I had no idea!...Aside to my niece Kit who gave me a most generous gift the last time I was in Paris,IL -- a CD that a lady was throwing from her float at the Chrisman Christmas Parade. Well, I listened to it all the way back to Columbia and I quite enjoyed her rendition of "Danny Boy." I thought I was back in R land...Holiday preparations? Well, the girls got the tree up and decorated 5 days ago, but somehow I have failed to get the mess that accompanies such an undertaking sorted and put away. I would shoot ..er..I mean take a picture of the state of my living room and post it, but I'm afraid it would destroy your Christmas spirit as it has mine. I think I'll just blog while watching Conan model a pair of jeggings even though I have no sheets on my bed and and 2 baskets of laundry beside me. All because I love you guys..or I'm a lazy slob..

Shooting you a blog,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

P.S. Mom and the 2 "Mouseketeers"; Gabe, Sarah, and Emily; Mom with 4 Patrick Coadys

Mom Turns 100!

Hi, All,
You didn't think I'd leave you blogless, did you? You're saved! Tiz is talking again.

I am still beaming from Mom's 100th birthday celebration. It was quite sensational and memorable. Coadys, Bridwells, and friends galore gathered to celebrate the remarkable woman who is my mother. She was a perfect lady in her gold suit with matching gold shoes. Her sister Wish would have approved. The mayor gave her the key to the city and declared the day "Catherine Bridwell Day." It was a day we will all remember. Thanks to all of you who were there and to those of you who sent cards and flowers. Mary and I have had fun reading the cards to to her.

I've also been thinking of all the reasons it's bad to have your mother turn 100. First of all, whenever I tell people that my mother is 100, they immediately do what I would do. They do the math and assume I'm about 80. While there are days I could pass for 80, most days I don't look a day over 75. Secondly, my mother gets way more attention than I do. What's the big deal? Why does she get cards from famous people like the president and Willard Scott, who chose NOT to feature her on a Smuckers jar?? Furthermore, at 100, she has the perfect excuse not to do anything for me anymore. Why, I haven't had any of her fudge or even a pork chop fried in an ancient iron skillet and browned to perfection in quite some time. Well, enough about me....

I'm reprinting the article that appeared in the Paris Beacon last week. It's not available on line:


Catherine Bridwell Turns 100
Submitted by Elizabeth Bridwell O’Connell

On November 16, 1910, Catherine Coady was born at 509 Marshall Street in Paris, IL. Nearly one hundred years later, she’s still there. Catherine, also known as “Kak” and” Katie”, has seen Paris change dramatically in her lifetime. She recalls sitting on her porch on Marshall Street each May and watching bumper- to-bumper cars from Chicago drive by on their way to the Kentucky Derby. She remembers the bustle of downtown Paris on Saturday nights when the farmers would come into town and line up outside the barbershops to get haircuts and shaves. Catherine enjoyed people-watching on the square. She and her friends went to the movie each week. Admission was ten cents, and a man named Pearl Clouse played the organ to accompany the silent movies. Paris had a trolley car called the Interurban which ran from south of town to Twin Lakes and also to Terre Haute.
At home Monday was wash day. Catherine’s mother brought water into the kitchen from an outdoor pump, boiled the water in large pots, and scrubbed the family of nine’s clothing with a bar of Fels Naptha soap on a washboard. Her mother prepared a full noontime meal which often included roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and homemade pie. On Sundays, her father would buy a leg of lamb.
Kak graduated from Paris High School in 1928, the year of the first May Fete, a Paris tradition that continues today. She has attended all but the past two May Fetes. Catherine’s high school English teacher was Carolyn Wenz, who also served as principal of PHS. When a school problem arose, Miss Wenz would leave the class alone and return when the problem was solved. Catherine doesn’t remember anyone acting up while the teacher was gone.

After high school, Catherine stayed home and kept house for her father and siblings. Later she got a job at Mary Van Houtin’s Dress Shop on East Court. She enjoyed helping customers and meeting new people.
From her 20s into her 90s, Kak belonged to bridge club. Midge Mercer. one of her bridge partners, introduced her to her cousin, Vic Bridwell, who was had just returned from World War II. Vic was visiting Paris on his way to San Diego where he planned to open a business. However, he found himself drawn back to Paris, Illinois, a town he ultimately came to love and consider the best place anyone could possibly live. He and Katie were married in 1947. Vic and his brother Ken opened Bridwell’s Grocery Store which they and, eventually, their sons ran until the mid 1990s. Catherine and Vic had five children: Bob, Tom, Mary Ann (Magers), Elizabeth (O’Connell), and John, who died in infancy. Catherine has eleven grandchildren and twelve great grandchildren, all under the age of 5. Catherine has continued her tradition of cooking a big meal at noon each day . Even today, you can find pork chops and mashed potatoes on the weekday lunch menu at the Bridwell house and a family member or two in attendance.
Catherine has been blessed with good health and a long life. While she doesn’t offer tips for living to be 100, those who know her have learned much from her example. Her Catholic faith has sustained her through life’s joys and hardships. Her interest in others and the world around her has kept her young. She has a positive attitude, doesn’t complain, and is willing to go anywhere at any time. Last year she and her daughter Mary Ann traveled to Ireland . They stayed with Kak’s daughter Tizzie (aka “Elizabeth”) and her husband Bob. The apartment elevator was broken for the first three days of the visit, but Kak valiantly walked up and down the fifty-seven steps several times a day without complaint. While there, she visited her mother’s hometown of Kenmare, County Kerry.
Her children are hosting an open house to celebrate Catherine’s birthday on Sunday, Nov. 21 from 1:00 – 4:00 at St. Mary’s Parish Hall. All family and friends are invited. There will be a short program at 2:00 PM. No gifts please.



MOUSE ALERT!!! I have been remiss in reminding you to set your mousetraps. As a result, a veritable rodent army has been assaulting Tim and Megan. The mouse count is 11 so far with Bob advising Tim to sit outside one night when "he doesn't have anything better to do" (what could be more important than protecting his fair damsel Megan from a fainting spell?) and catch the fiends in the act of unlawful entry into the garage. So, you Thanksgiving slackers, if you do nothing but raise a drumstick to your slobbery lips today, please also remember to set your mousetraps!

Happy Thanksgiving, you turkeys!

Still insulting and revolting,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

See you next week!

Hi, friends and foes,
I've been too busy getting ready for Mom's 100th. Check back next week and I'll have all the details and pictures, too. I will see many of you soon!!! Can't wait.

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

A Surprise Attack

Good day, Friends, Frenemies,and Blogstalkers,

I have been part of a secret operation. No, I'm not sitting here in a straight jacket dictating this to my nurse. I have, in fact, been part of a covert plan of shock and awe. I can now smile, wave, and say emphatically, "Mission accomplished!" The secret photos I was able to smuggle out are Tiztalk exclusives...My old (and I do mean OLD) friend Pam's husband decided to put one over on her once and for all. He hosted a surprise birthday party two months early. In a darkened room, we operatives silently got into position. When the door opened and the target was in sight, we let loose with our most potent weapon: our big mouths. The target nearly fainted, and 5 days later some of us are still smiling at our desks and in our homes at the thought of it...Pam (aka "the victim") was my college roommate. I have written this poem in her honor.

A Poem for Pam

I have a friend named P.
She means the world to me.

She's funny and she's clever.
She's the best friend ever.

We met at a tender age;
bellbottoms were the rage.

Though she tended toward hot pants and halters,
I could never fault her.

For she's always looked quite fine,
this dear old friend of mine.

Some people thought it strange -
the hick from Paris, the babe from LaGrange.

But we'd laugh until we'd snort,
then come out with another retort.

Who knows why people click?
Who knows why friendships stick?

But we've stayed friends through the years,
through the laughter and the tears.

Though our lives were full and busy,
we made time for Pam and Tizzie.

Our phone calls are legendary,
causing our families to become incendiary.

Somehow forty years have passed.
My, it's all gone fast!

So on this special day,
yes, I know it's still two months away,
I just have this to say:

I have a friend named P.
She means the world to me.



Still snorting, retorting, and reporting,
I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

P.S. Longtime readers know that I have no idea how to change the order of the photos above, but I did put them in in the right order.

The One About Nothing

Hi, Blahhgggmates,

I'm taking a tip from Seinfeld and writing about nothing today. I'll just choose random incidents and tell you about them... I had an exciting lunch hour on Wednesday. I stopped by a fund raiser and paid $5.00 to throw a pie in a college girl's face. I was delighted to discover that there were no rules about standing far away or anything, so so I had no trouble hitting my target. Oh, did I mention who was on "pie in the face" duty? Would you believe it was my very own daughter? I was so surprised. I recommend this activity this to all mothers. It was quite cathartic to see someone besides myself get what's coming to her....Mom's 100th birthday is looming. I spent about 30 mins last night searching for the memory books that I created for her 80th and 90th birthdays. Her friends and relatives wrote lovely things about her. I had no luck but I did find and read a stack of old birthday cards which I sat down on the floor and read and chuckled over, thereby accounting for most of the thirty minutes I spent "looking" for Mom's memory book. Mary has sent Mom's name into Willard Scott to put her picture on a Smuckers jar on the Today Show. It is past the deadline to hear, but keep your fingers crossed...I finally got tired of moving Molly's pants around, so I took them to the seamstress for hemming. She called last night and said they were done. She also told me that she had had 2 items of Nancy's for 6 months! I was mortified at this smirching of the family reputation. That's what happens when your mother leaves the country. You leave your stuff at the seamtress's forever without a care...Well, believe it or not, I must get to work. See ya next week.

Writing a lotta nada,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Blah Blah Blogging

Good day, Slackers,

I do apologize for my slacking, but ALL of you know what an affliction that is or you wouldn't be reading Tiztalk. While I would love nothing better than to blog and have you blog back all day long, in the words of my brother Tom to Dad, his boss, circa 1967, "This job interferes with my fun." What a true statement!...Molly is here this week and Bob is not, so we have reached new heights in the "girls just want to have fun" department. We enjoyed a nice Italian dinner at Bambino's last night, went to Shoe Carnival and fell for the "Buy one get one half price" schtick. The odd thing was I was looking for "cool" shoes (and I almost succeeded -for me at least --with a nice brown leather pair of Clarks with a slight heel. I'll post a pic later for all you nosy broads who love to see what shoes Tiz is wearing) while Molly was looking for "sensible, comfortable" shoes to wear for work... Despite my stringent suggestions to take them to a seamstress, Molly insisted that we hem her pants last night. Remarkably, I discovered that I do still actually sort of know how to do that. And, in an uncharacteristically nurturing, motherly mode, I took a needle and thread in hand and showed Molly how to do it. Can't you just picture us? All this while watching "The Housewives of Beverly Hills" -- something Molly was able to teach me about. I don't know which of us learned the most... Well, I will do better about blahhhhging. In fact, I have a blog in mind that I hope to post this weekend if real life doesn't intrude again...Bob comes home tomorrow. I will try not to end up in Homer Simpson mode (only faithful readers will know what that means) by the time he returns. After work today I plan to stop at Schnucks, buy my favorite foods, eat them, get a Redbox movie, fall asleep on the couch watching it, and generally, just join all of you in competing for a spot in the Slacking Hall of Fame..


Still lazy and crazy,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

"Grown" Daughters

Hi, Desperate Readers,

Nancy tells me that I can't call my readers unfaithful if I am an unfaithful blogger....she wants something to appear when she clicks "Tiztalk". Well, I do, too. How about a comment or two or three?? I could make an outrageous claim like insisting that I am not a witch or a crook , and then you would all get on and come to my defense, right? Right....I've been thinking a lot about mothers and daughters lately. Mom is turning 100 next month, and I just visited her last weekend. While you might think that a 99 year old lady doesn't yield much power, think again. When I am with my mother, I must adhere to the strictest standards of behavior. I must account for all the Pinwheel cookies that go missing during my visit. "Tizzie, have you been into the Pinwheels?" Mom eats one - and only one - Pinwheel each night and my visits inevitably throw off her inventory. I must go to bed somewhere around 8:30 PM. I can and often do rebel and attempt to stay up later, but when Mom gets up for a bathroom break I am forced to explain why I'm dozing, whether I really need the light on, what I'm watching on TV, and why I don't just immediately go to bed. And so I do. Lunch must be eaten promptly at 11:00. Even if I am in the middle of writing out invitations to HER birthday party, I must put them aside and eat a proper meal. The same thing happens at 5:00 PM. In between meals, we take our required tour of the cemeteries. Mom once again ponders why a certain person is buried in a certain spot. I once again offer to dig up that certain body and move it to where she wants it. My sister and I agree we should have done this about 50 years ago. Last weekend Mom and I did get to have some extra fun. We picked up two of her friends who are 91 and 94 and we went to the new Castle Finn Winery near Marshall, IL. It was a picture perfect fall day and we sat outside and toasted ourselves. We also ended up in the middle of a wedding, but no one one seemed to notice. We behaved ourselves and only one of our party -- not me -- snitched a handful of peanuts intended for the guests. When you're in your 90s, who's going to stop you??...Okay, you're wondering about the photos. Well, my niece Coady sent me the link to her wedding photos . E-mail me if you want the link. It started me thinking about where my own wedding pictures are, so I photographed one of them for you. Yes, that's it, ignominiously perched on a heap of stuff in the basement. In 1976, I had envisioned it gracing the grand hall of my stately home or over the fireplace in my formal living room. Alas, I have none of the above, but I do have a roomy back basement that welcomes such things. So, I hope Coady reads this before she orders her wedding photos....Today is a big day in the University Bookstore. The new MU Student Center -- we are connected to it -- is having an open house today and a dedication ceremony tomorrow. Mort Walker of Beetle Bailey fame will be there. We've been told to "dress professionally" in Mizzou's colors, black and gold. So, I will pull out my trusty black pants that served me so well in Eire and make myself respectable once again...

Minding my mother,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

P.S. Faithful and unfaithful readers know that I have no idea how to delete the extra photo above. I have tried, but the computer has outsmarted me once again.

Saving Face

Hi, faithful and unfaithful readers.

I have a confession to make. In a weak moment, I've done what I've been avoiding for years: I've joined Facebook. That's right. I can now stalk my children and maybe yours, too. I can see I really just wanted to see pictures of my great nieces and nephews, but it seems I have opened up a whole new world. In fact, I am afraid to open my e-mail as I keep getting all these requests from people and I'm not sure what to do with them or how to do it. I've also discovered that I don't know the proper Facebook protocol . Mary told me that if I didn't post a picture within 24 hours I would be considered a huge loser. That's the rule. It took me 4 months to figure out how to post photos on this blog and now I had 24 hours?? Luckily, someone posted a picture of me and I was able to click on it and it miraculously became my profile. I persuaded my sister to join, too. Tonight she tells me that she has 100 friends. I, on the other hand, only have 32. I made her read me her 100 friends. While I don't know half of them, I'm still wonder why she has so many, and I don't....In other news, when we last spoke I was threatening to mop the floor with a Shark, remember? Well, I managed to put the thing together in such a way that even Tim and Megan had to get out the direction book to undo my mistake. They did finally get the thing assembled I finally got the pleasure of pushing wet fluffy mop around the kitchen floor. It was exhilarating! .. Well, I will catch up with you slackers later.


Stalking and talking,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Football , Fun, and Something Fishy

Hi, Friends, Fam, and Frenemies,

Bob and I visited Tim and Megan last weekend. Bob and Tim went to the football game while Megan and I had the fun. We visited Tom, Marty and all 6 of their grandkids. Aren' t they cute? ..I'm sitting here watching _The Biggest Loser_ by myself. What does that tell you? I like having Molly and Nancy here so that I can comment on how many people cry, how many times the phrase "kick a**" or a variation is used, who has bad grammar , and how many times cuss words are bleeped out. It's no fun to make these observations to myself. I like them to roll their eyes and tell me that if I don't like it, I don't have to watch it and would I just shut up...I was so excited today as I got the car . I felt like a teenager. I was exhilarated! Bob and I share a car now which means that I rarely drive anymore. I'm the little old lady whose husband carts her around. But today the car was mine. After work I drove to Sonic and had a cheeseburger for dinner. Then I bought something that is all the rage among middle-aged -- well, that's stretching it a bit -- ladies. It is guaranteed to make my life easier or I get my money back. I even got a $10 gift card for buying it. I have discussed the purchase in detail with several friends. If you are a faithful reader of this blog, you'll know that I probably need this item. No, it's not a new wheelie cart. More clues? It's named after an ocean creature. It needs to be plugged in. Give up? It's a Shark Light 'n Easy Steam mop. Aren't you jealous? .. Soon I will do some butt kicking myself as I charge into the kitchen to try it out. Hopefully, I won't cuss and/or cry before I finish. After burning a few calories, I will vote myself out of the kitchen..All the BS (blog stuff) for now.

Currently viewing instead of doing,

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Brides, Bridles, and Bridwells

Welcome to your favorite day, Slackers,

I guess you've missed hearing Tiz talk, or you wouldn't be here. My niece Coady got married in Lexington, KY last weekend. Oh, what an affair! I'm still recovering from the joyous occasion. While we didn't actually see any horses or bridles, we did drive past a few horse farms on our way to the winery...Bob and I are enjoying having Molly with us each week while she works here in town. If I didn't know better, I would think she had sent a Molly lookalike in her place. She is thankful for any slop I throw in front of her, she makes her bed, fixes her lunch, cleans up after herself, rarely goes out at night, and is safely tucked in bed sound by 10 each night. Did I mention that she only used one towel all week AND kept track of it? I may have to demand a DNA test to prove that she is truly my daughter...Need to go do some full scale slacking myself.

Dazed and amazed,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

I'll Be Back

Hi, Folks,

Went to my niece's wedding last weekend in Kentucky. I haven't had any blog time. I have my brother Bob coming to visit Wed, and Marianne J coming Thurs. I promise to post some great pictures this weekend.

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

37 Works of Art

Hi, Blogfiends,

I've heard that people just can't resist reading articles with numbers in the title. I guess that's true in your case. You're like everyone else. You have no willpower to stop reading this blog. You are wondering about those 37 works of art. You know I won't tell you until the end, so relax. I'm not a "Bob caught a possum" type of person. I'm a "would you just get to the point of the story?!" type of person. That's why you like me, right? You like to have your mind filled with useless details...Since you insist...I've included Molly's picture to maintain your interest. Isn't she cute? Her picture is supposed to be the first one, but I have no idea how to move it to the top.. The other photos are from Bob's office. After 30 years, his office has been redone. He now has carpeting (!), new paint, a new desk, and his blackboard is being retired :( So, I'm sharing his last photos of it. If you look closely, you'll see loves notes from Nancy, Tim's mile times when he was training for the HS soccer team and other sordid scribblings. This blackboard -- which years ago used to have jock straps hanging on it drying out from Bob's noontime runs -- is itself a work of art. But, it's not one of the 37. No, the 37 works of art have been carefully curated (that might be word) on the kitchen table since Tuesday. They are the kids' artwork that has also been hanging around Bob's office for -- in some cases -- 28 years or more. Now they have been lovingly dumped at my place at the table. What should I do with Molly's Johnny Appleseed drawing? Her fourth grade "River of Ice" ballad? Nancy's preschool sunflower? Tim's "Boy and a Ball" poem? Of course, they are mostly on faded, oversized manilla paper. Many of you know that I have a mother who still has my artwork from grade school, which consistently earned me grades of "C" or "D" from the good nuns. One picture of beavers at dam -- where my teacher claimed not to recognize animal I had drawn --has been preserved for posterity. (Have you ever tried to draw a beaver??) So, I have a bad legacy to overcome. Do I save them forever? Chuck them all? Digitalize them and then chuck them? Stuff them into each child's overflowing "childhood stuff" plastic bin? Put them on e-bay? Or just leave them on the table until further notice?? ... Suggestions welcome.

Artsy but not fartsy,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Mops, Etc.

Hi, Non-laboring Labor Day lads and lassies,

Do you know where you mop is? Really. Do you know? You should go find it right now and put it where you can find it. Then write yourself a note. As the clock ticked and my bunco party drew closer, I decided to give the old kitchen floor a quick mop. Guess what? I couldn't find my mop! I could swear I have used it at least once since arriving home in June, but it was MIA, or should I say MII (Missing in inaction)? Now you and I all know that nobody but me would ever consider picking up a mop around here. Had Molly taken it to Kansas City? Unlikely. Had Bob taken it outside -- totally without permission -- to mop the back porch? He claimed innocence. Despite my best efforts -- which weren't all that good -- I could not find it. But, being the resourceful homemaker that I am, I solved the problem. I threw one of my many wet dishtowels (don't you have a lot of those when you are preparing for company?) to the floor and swished it around with my foot. It really worked pretty well, and I was able to clip on my pearls and don my apron before my guests arrived. (Yes, I made that part up.) Bunco was a big success. I did, in fact, make Rolo pretzel treats, spinach artichoke dip with pita crackers, corn and bean salsa with Fritos, and a frozen fruit dessert with cream cheese and a graham cracker crust. Add a few bottles of wine and my friends were once again fooled into believing I really know how to entertain with ease. They didn't see me flipping pretzel treats to the floor while attempting to get them off the cookie sheet or my bed overflowing with countertop papers and stuff that has now taken up residence on my bedroom floor...I did reveal my faux paus from last week's blog if you go back and look at my comment. You are all lazier and .. well, never mind ...than I give you credit for. And I give you a lot of credit. You surely have things to be doing right now, don't you? If not, you could come help me rid the basement of my new boarders: crickets! Sorry, Tim, your childhood friends have returned and are calling out for you. So far I have not seen any of the prehistoric variety(aka "camel crickets") , but they are probably lurking about waiting to assault me when I least expect it. One lucky fellow has already survived a wastebasket and a box of Tide being thrown on him. Now I have Tide all over the floor. I hope I can find my vacuum cleaner. You haven't seen it, have you??

Well, I've wasted enough of your time and mine. I just spied the mop hiding horizontally in the garage. I've made a note so I'll know where it is next time I have Bunco. In the meantime, I'm off to set my mousetraps, my cricket traps, and do whatever else it is I do.

Thinking about chirps and twerps,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Like Death and Taxes....

Good day, Sunday through Saturday Slackers,

You are probably wondering what I've been doing that's so much more important than blogging, aren't you? Wrangling raccoons? Pestering possums? Menacing moles and voles? Read on to find out....Above you'll see Cara (my niece), Molly, Amy, (Molly's friend) and Nancy. Yesterday we were all in Kansas City living it up. We dined outside at the Cheesecake Factory on the Plaza. Nancy, Teresa (Amy's mom) and I went to a most thrilling shopping shopping destination (only in Nancy's mind): a huuuuuuuuge Forever 21 . Nancy was overjoyed to walk out with a bagful of up-to-the-minute fashions which were priced right (aka "cheap") and guaranteed to go out of style by the time they are washed once and fall apart. ..After a day of frivolous shopping, eating, and touring around Kansas City, I suddenly remembered a gloomy prospect that only comes around once/year: I have bunco at my house Monday night! Like paying taxes and dying, hosting bunco duties do arrive once every 12 months. Now you might say, "Oh, Tizzie/Liz/Mom/Tizmom/Tiz/Elizabeth, surely you have that figured out by now. You must have trademark recipes that you pull out every year to impress your friends. They must all say, 'Well, tonight we'll surely have that yummy________ that she always fixes us with such flair.'"
Ah, if only that were true. No, every year I scramble to recreate myself in the cooking/hostessing department. I can create no crusty breads that turn out just right. Or soups that make everyone demand my recipe. Or any hot cheesy dips that are all the rage. The last time I tried to make a pie - crust and all - was in the 1970s. The experience was so traumatic that my therapist demanded that I never try again. No, each year I scour my cookbooks in search of the perfect simple -yet elegant- recipes to feed my friends. When Teresa (a bunkette) asked me yesterday - while sitting in the breeze shooting the breeze - what I was doing for bunco, I made a huge mistake. I told her. My biggest accomplishment so far has been to Google "Bunco Recipes". I found a great website called "Meredith's Recipes" and I am making just what's on that lady's list for bunco gatherings. I announced that I was making Rolo pretzels and almond bark popcorn. Well, now Teresa can't wait, and I must actually make those things. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut??? In the meantime, I will once again blame the person who is responsible for my lack of cooking skills. Who? Aren't I a grown woman in charge of my life? Well, who else? My mother, of course! Even though she is 99 1/2, she must still shoulder the blame. Instead of learning to cook at her side, I was off doing who knows what -- hanging out with my friends, talking on the phone, reading movie magazines, riding around -- things I'm still quite good at, mind you. No, no one ever showed me how to cook, so I must somehow endure this public humiliation that comes a few times/year, usually at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and, of course the worst of all (since it's my friends not my family to whom my faults are exposed) : Bunco! ..Oh, well, in 48 hours, this will all be over and I can get back to my old habits of reading any website but a cooking one ...

Whining but not shining,
I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Keeping Up with the O'Connells

Good day, Saturday Slackers,

I would say "good morning", but most of you probably aren't up yet. I am home, but not alone this Saturday. Tim and Megan are asleep downstairs; Bob is asleep upstairs. I have finished my newspapers, so I guess my next time-wasting activity is YOU. That's right. This is YOUR blog, not mine. So, I'll answer some of your burning questions. Did Bob capture Rocky's mate Roxy? (If you don't know what this question means, you need to go back and read the previous 2 blogs) No, but he did capture Polly the possum. I would have provided a photo of her, but a certain person didn't allow the time or opportunity for me to do that adequately. Furthermore, it was dark and I don't have a clue how to set my camera up for nighttime pictures. I tried. Anyway, Polly really did "play possum" as when Bob went to release her at Twin Lakes, she refused to get out of the cage. He had to yank the bedspread all the way off and shake and rattle the cage to get her moving. No doubt, she traumatized some early morning joggers there. At least Yorktown Drive is safe from one more wild creature (I don't count)...How are the taxes going? Well, I'm still "working on them". While it's a fact that we are dollarless and euroless, we must prove to Uncle Sam that we reached this state legitimately, not just through our own wanton behavior. Uncle Sam allows $165/day for our Irish pursuits. We just have to explain what happened to the rest of the dough. Surely, my wheelie cart is deductible? We'll find all this out when we face our accountant this week. Bob just stopped by and deemed this blog "sickening". He says that I don't let up, and that the whole thing could have been said in 4 words: Bob caught a possum. Maybe that's true, but then your slacking time would be cut way too short. .
Anyway, I guess he wants me to play possum, so I will. Also, I must go do what I hope you've already done: set my mousetraps! (I put that in there for Nancy as it drives her nuts. What are mothers for?)

Rattling cages every day,
I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Bob K.O.s Rocky

Good morning, Friends and Frenemies,

While you've all slept, we've had a most exciting morning. Rocky Raccoon succumbed to the smell of peanut butter-topped carrots and found himself in the predicament you see above. When I went out - at great risk to myself and also defying a husband who hissed out the window nearly causing me to create a scene in my jammies -- to snap this photo for you, he was wondering what had become of his rooftop dance partner who was nowhere to be found. He hissed and raised up as Bob threw the blanket on the cage. Bob is now off taking him to a "better place". Don't worry. Rocky will live to see another day... er I mean night. Bob saw our young sturdy neighbor Kurt leaving for work in his pick up truck. He offered him the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be a neighborhood hero and to take Rocky to his construction job out of town. The young man politely declined. Therefore, Bob has trekked off to Grindstone Nature Area to let Rocky be with his own kind. Bob is outside now hosing down the cage which really makes me fear for the state of my trunk...At any rate, Yorktown Drive is a safe and quiet street once again. Bob reports that Rocky made threatening noises during their journey. And one always wonders just how smart animals are (could he possibly get out of the cage?). Nonetheless, it appears that the mission is accomplished, and Bob is the neighborhood hero. I only wonder what Rocky is writing in his blog today...

Always cagey,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Dancing the Night Away

Good day, Blogophiles,

You must think that I've been living it up since I haven't bothered to blog lately. If only that were true. I did manage to escape one night of hard labor by slipping off to Houlihan's with Jody and Dawn while Bob unwittingly got elected to fix dinner for Nancy and her 3 roommates. I also managed a trip to the farmer's market with Teresa where we purchased and consumed black raspberry cinnamon rolls so scrumptious that my stomach was upset the rest of the day. But they were worth it. And I suppose a person who ate just one wouldn't have had a problem... But real life has intruded. At night Bob and I have heard strange noises overhead the past few weeks. Bob even thought someone might be walking around in our attic. We then considered who or what might be doing such a thing. The attic door had been opened briefly to retrieve a pair of crutches for Bob. Could something have flown, crawled, jumped or sneaked in in that brief time??? Could it have hatched something large enough to be wandering the attic now? Were we living in the Twilight Zone? On Mysterious Island? What could it be? Well, last night Bob learned the answer. I was sound asleep when the rooftop dancing began. Bob bravely took the billy club flashlight outside to investigate. And what did he discover?? Probably the relatives of a visitor we had several years ago....two fat furry raccoons dancing with abandon on our roof. He did what most men -- but no women, in my opinion at least -- would do: he set a live raccoon trap. Yes, we just happened to have one handy for just such an occasion. Of course, no woman would do that as just what would you do if you actually managed to catch a live raccoon? Last time this happened we mostly caught live cats, but maybe we'll be luckier (?) this time. I don't hear anything howling out there yet..At any rate, there is a bright side to this situation. After 2 months, I finally have a comeback for Bob incessant praise of all things Irish: "Well, you can't do THIS in Ireland!" (editor's note: longtime Blog from the Bog readers know, of course, there ARE no raccoons in Ireland.)... So, I guess I must now warn you to look out for yet another rodent lurking in your yard (mole), grill/car/garage/desk/house (mouse) and now even on your roof!

Tracking rodents dead or alive every day,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth