Filling My Quota and Yours

Hi, Saturday Slackers,

You know that pile of mulch is waiting for you. What are you doing in front of your computer? Well, you must want to hear Tiz talk, so I won’t disappoint you.
Do you think that there is a requisite number of dumb things a person is required to do in her life? A quota that must be filled? Are mishaps preventable? Can you really wear white pants and eat spaghetti without incident? Can a person wheel large V-carts filled with textbooks without dumping them over? After picking up the mess of books, must one then soundly knock her head on the handle bar? I’m just wondering. I’ve long excelled in the klutz category, but lately I seem to be headed for the Klutz Hall of Fame. Ready to feel good about yourself? Read on. Before heading out to Moms’ Weekend with Nancy, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I had thought ahead. I had a nearly-new pair of khakis, my hair had been cut and colored, my the car was clean and vacuumed, I was well-rested and ready to Mom up. However, like a trite sitcom, my life never runs smoothly. With a last admiring glance in the full length mirror, I noticed a red spaghetti stain on the knee of my pants. Like any seasoned housewife, I knew just what to do. I grabbed a wet rag and started rubbing wildly while cussing in daughter-friendly terms. The spot got bigger and wetter. Then I noticed that it was getting redder. After using the scientific method – well, actually, Nancy figured it out – I realized that my spot was not spaghetti at all; my knee was bleeding. They just don’t make razors like they used to. (You women readers will understand the need to shave one’s legs even when wearing khakis, just in case someone should take a thorough look at your ankles while you're sitting at brunch.) Anyway, Nancy introduced me to Tide at Hand and we ultimately got the stain to nearly disappear. (I’m still puzzled by where the blood went as the Tide stick was still snowy white; my daughter Molly, a biology major, later explained that it had “oxidized” whatever that means). I was saved as I had not another pair of trousers that would actually fit and flatter -- as in zip and not look too hideous – this 5’2” temple of mine. As we were leaving, I took a minute to clean the kitchen counter. What did I spy but a swarm of ants enjoying leftovers near the windowsill? Again I knew just what to do. I quickly and indiscriminately – again while cussing in a daughter-friendly way -- sprayed poison on the countertop and their marching quickly became writhing. I was triumphant. I could regale you with another tale of what went on that day, but it would make me look entirely too ridiculous and your would shake your head in disgust. Furthermore, I like being married, so I choose not to reveal all of my stupid Tizzie tricks, even for YOUR entertainment. Instead, I included some photos from Moms’ Weekend . But I’ll add a few other Tizzie classics and then I’ll sit back and wait for you to share a few of yours. Or tell a few tales on me if you choose. Don’t disappoint me, okay? Even if you feel mine can’t be topped? Try me…Here goes…

1. Before leaving for work one day, I once picked up the wrong can and sprayed Scrubbing Bubbles bathroom cleaner all over my hair instead of hairspray. (Yes, I went to work anyway, and I smelled squeaky clean all day.)
2. While pregnant with Tim, I once took a cart filled with 3 huge boxes of Brigance Inventories (some of you will know what those are) down an escalator packed with people at a convention. The boxes fell off at the bottom and about 100 people had to jump over me and my stuff when they reached the bottom. I imagine a few of them still remember that one, perhaps only subconsciously.
3. A few months after I got my driver’s license, I asked Dad to let me drive to Terre Haute, IN. I was so excited that he let me do it. However, I soon realized that I had no idea how to get to Terre Haute (those of you from Paris, IL, are at least smiling if not laughing aloud right now) . Of course, I couldn’t reveal my ignorance because then he might change his mind. I guess I eventually got there.
4. When Molly was 4 I bought her a nice pair of Stride Rite shoes. One shoe fit, the other didn’t. I took Molly and the shoes back to the store and demanded a replacement pair. The shoe salesman reached in and took the tissue paper out of the toe of the other shoe…
5. Tim went to a preschool co-op where parents helped. I sent his teacher’s Christmas gift with a friend. It was a lovely copper planter still in the box that Bob and I had received as a wedding gift. Well, you’ve already guess this one, right? The teacher opened her gifts and read the cards while sitting in a circle with the group. The card said “Congratulations on your wedding, Tizzie and Bob.” Well, my friend Marianne has NEVER let me forget that one!
6. Nancy’s preschool had a culminating event each year: The Mothers' Tea. The children made elaborate paper hats for themselves and their mothers, had a parade, and performed a skit. I clearly remember dropping her off at 12:30. I decided to make use of the few hours before I had to return for the party. When I showed up to pick her up, I noticed lots of extra cars and dressed up mothers with flowerly paper hats on… I was aghast. Not only had I forgotten the tea – Nancy had to sit on the teacher’s lap for the photos and events – I had spent my afternoon cleaning the garage. I had on a sweaty tee shirt and dirty pair of shorts. I truly was a disgrace. If Nancy has anything to do with it, I imagine the quotation on my headstone will read “She forgot the Mothers’ Tea.”

Doing your dumb things for you,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth