Concrete, Cooking, Catherine, and Chidren

Good day, Bloggies,

Shouldn’t you be raking your leaves? Planning your Halloween costume? Eating a caramel apple? Well, since you’re slacking, I guess I’ll join you.

We have a new concrete patio outside our basement door! What? You’re not excited? Well, evidently, no contractors were either, as we had been trying to find someone to install one for quite some time. As usual, no one wants to do the jobs we need done. What? They don’t want to scrape peeling paint off my garage ceiling and redo it? A few years back, I got very excited about a great bid on that, but the painters never did show… Most guys we call either don’t call back and/or don’t show up. Do you think someone has our number? Are we on the contractors’ “No Call List”? One guy simply walked away during Bob’s interrogation (er.. I mean “questioning”) of how he was going to install the concrete. He drove off, leaving his stunned underlings to make excuses and skulk away. Another fellow spent several hours with us and even offered to “explain a law of physics” to Bob so that Bob would understand the angle at which the patio would be slanted… We finally picked the guy with the shortest rap sheet AND miraculously he eventually showed up. While we have never sat on the said patio and don’t intend to, it is a fine-looking perfectly –angled (well, we’ll know that after the first downpour that doesn’t result in a wet basement) piece of sand art… Now all this has led to us planting grass seed for the first time in our young lives, but I’ll save that for another blog.

Now let’s talk about cooking. What I know wouldn’t fill a blog, but evidently despite the internet, iPod, and iPhone (okay, now is where Nancy reminds me that she DOESN’T have one of these) to give her all knowledge she needs at her fingertips -- she knows even less than I do. She moved into her first apartment in Aug. Like a good mother, I supplied her with all the cooking essentials: Hamburger helper, Ragu spaghetti sauce, Shake ‘n Bake, Ramen noodles, a few frozen pizzas, etc. She called in dismay one evening. She was both hungry and humiliated. She had planned to make Hamburger Helper for her roommates. Her roommate Maggie asked, “Oh, do you have some hamburger?” Nancy’s reply, “Isn’t it in the box?” How’s a girl to know ? She hasn’t cooked the Ramen noodles yet, but remind me to tell her that Ramen won’t suddenly appear to cook them for her. ..

And now, onto my mother, Catherine… You DO like to read about nearly 101-year-olds, don’t you? What my sister told me may help explain why Mom has gotten to be nearly 101. Mary stopped by one evening to take her for a ride. Mom was already in bed. She asked Mary, “Can I just go like I am?” So, she got out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, and did what folks in my hometown have made an art form: went riding around. Here’s to getting out of bed and keepin’ on keepin’ on.

And finally to kids. I have only one observation today. Years ago when Molly was a young girl, she was noted among her family and friends for having a most untidy bedroom. I could describe it, but some of you mothers reading this might weep openly and have to explain yourselves to your boss or worse. In Tom Sawyer fashion, whenever she needed to clean her room before getting to go play, she would convince her unsuspecting friend (sorry, Amy, it was usually you) to “help” her clean her room in order to enjoy her inimitable company. My ever-wise sister would say, “Don’t worry. When she grows up, her house will be spotless.” That was little comfort t to me. Well, guess what? My sister was right. Bob and I stayed in Molly’s apartment last weekend and there wasn’t a thing out of place. There were no dishes in the sink, there were clean towels in the bathroom, the garbage can was empty, we didn’t have to wade through piles of clothes. So, for all of you mothers of slobs out there – you know who you are – fear not. They do grow up, and they do have spotless homes. So, just suck it up for 20 years or so. It’s not so bad now, is it?

“C” ing things my way,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth