Christmas Blog 2013

CHRISTMAS BLOG 2013

Would you trust this woman with your Christmas dinner?

Hi, friends and fam,

If you were here right now you would be sticking out your tongue at me.  Why, you ask?  Because the work part of my Christmas  is over.  Finished.  My children have come and gone.  I am free and easy.

Why, I just grabbed a baggie of leftover turkey out of the fridge, pulled out a turkey leg, poured salt on it , and voraciously ripped into it while reaching for a handful of  Lay’s potato chips with the other hand.  That was dinner.  I am sitting here without a care in the world writing this.  Before you hatch a plot to undermine me, let me fill you in on what has happened along the way…

You’ve heard of the Peter Principle, haven’t you?  It claims that people are promoted beyond their level of competence so that they become incompetent. People should stay where they belong doing what they do best. Well, I’m a perfect example of this theory. I never asked to be made commander- in -chief of Christmas dinner. From ages 10 until about 35, I was perfectly happy and quite accomplished at performing my Christmas dinner duties at my parents’ house.  They included these important tasks:

 *ask guests if they wanted iced tea or 7-Up  (only allowed on holidays) with dinner

* pick leftover remnants of meat off the turkey carcass with my bare hands (I was quite good at this)

*put the jelly on the table in a lovely bowl

*eat the turkey neck – My mother boiled it just for me.  I was special.

If only I could have stayed with what I knew, I could have had a lifetime of feeling fulfilled and good about myself.  Instead, read on for a sampling of what I’ve been through.

I took off early on Thursday to begin the grand Christmas preparations. Nancy kindly picked me up from work. We proceeded to the store where I purchased $282 worth of holiday groceries.  I then remembered quite suddenly  (okay, I really had never really “forgotten”) that I had a hair appointment and that she needed to drop me off immediately.  Poor Nancy had to go home and put all those groceries away  all by herself while I read People magazine for a few hours at the hairdresser’s.  I felt so bad.  I still do.  She did an admirable job under the circumstances.  I did find an unexplained bit of celery on top of the fridge the next day , but I  just chopped it up and threw it in the dressing. 

To my dismay, I discovered too late that there was not enough time to defrost the turkey in the fridge; I had to defrost it in the sink.  Who made up these rules anyway?  What happened to putting it on the counter overnight? Once again, I didn’t sign up for this.  You may ask why I didn’t get a fresh turkey.  I tried one once, and I must admit that I thoroughly missed the chemicals and flavorings in a good old Butterball turkey.  It just wasn’t Christmas without the sweet taste of sodium.  Once I got the water to stay in the sink, I pulled a Tizzie.  I accidentally dropped a bottle of vanilla into the water.  I debated just leaving it and seeing how it tasted.  Isn’t that how great culinary discoveries are made?  By accident? I can see it now “Mama O’s Vanilla Turkey.” ….Oh, and I haven’t eaten a turkey neck in years since my son announced that all the hormones are injected into the turkey’s neck.  I decided to rectify that this year and enjoy a turkey neck all to myself.  Unfortunately, I burned it in a pan and the smell caused my family to considered evacuating.  As usual, they were too lazy for that and just opened every window in the house.  It was 15 degrees outside, so I didn’t mind a bit.  And my turkey neck got tossed aside.  Maybe next year.

In my frenzy to wrap gifts, I accidentally picked up a pair of slippers, wrapped them, and put them under the tree for my daughter.  I  could have sworn I  had already wrapped a pair for her and I didn’t think that the slippers looked like the pair she had picked out, but , I figured that I  must be mistaken. Eventually, my daughter wondered what had happened to the slippers she had purchased ME for Christmas…well, I did get them back and I have them on right now.  (Remember my Christmas work is already over)..To my credit, I only “lost” one gift this year which is quite a good record for me.  I did find it in the nick of time (no pun intended). I had stuck Nancy’s Surface tablet in a Talbots bag in my drawer.  When I opened the drawer, I thought I had stumbled upon a surprise gift for me from Bob.  It took me awhile to discover  - I would say “remember”, but that would be lying –that the Talbot’s bag held her gift.

I had a minor tizhap.  Instead of distilled water for my Shark steam mop, I purchased purified water for baby formula.  It contained fluoride.  I considered just using it anyway, but I was afraid, with my luck, that my shark might actually grow teeth.

I had to risk the certain wrath of my husband for moving all the crap from around the house into our bedroom.  We will undoubtedly spend the next six months looking for some of it.  Of course, I wasn’t allowed to move the 6 (six) National Geographics he’s decided to catch up on this week.  They couldn’t be moved or messed with and must remain exactly by his chair in the living room.  I did find a basket for them and placed them in it – in date order, of course.  By the time our house was “cleaned up” for the kids, our own bedroom looked like, in the words of my husband, “your mother’s junk room.”  We have managed to make our way to what I think is our bed each night and fall in.

Don’t forget the cookie baking.  Nancy and I managed to produce some cookies that actually look mainstream.  No one would know a couple of derelicts produced them.  Anyway, baking cookies is only half of it.  Then you have to hide them.  You do hide your cookies, don’t you?   My mother was the master of this.  No cookie or piece of fudge was eaten before its time.  They were all hidden away and my mother was the Doberman guarding them. I thought I was doing great.  My husband started snooping around asking for cookies.  I told him to leave the room and count to ten and I would bring him 2 (two) cookies.  He did not go for that dictum.  You should have seen his glee when he lifted the lid off the electric roaster and discovered the whole stash.  It was most disheartening for the cookie bakers – me and Nancy.  He did NOT stick to the “two only” rule.

Well, I could go on, but it’s getting very late.

The out-of-town kids did come home. And they've  left. The tree now has nothing beneath it.  The gifts all got to approximately the right person.  The cookies are nearly gone.  The leftover turkey is dwindling fast.  Despite my ineptitude, another Christmas  gathering has come and gone in our family.  Next year we’ll have a picture-perfect Christmas.  I’m sure of it.  ..In the meantime, I am thankful for my family, my friends, my health, and all the good things God has given me.  Merry Christmas, everyone!

All petered out,

I remain

Tizzie/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Having a Gas

Recently, my girl cousins  had a reunion in St. Charles, MO.   One cousin was not able to come, and she just couldn’t bear to think of all the fun we were having without her.  She called incessantly seeking details of our exploits.  Where had we been?  What did we do? What were we talking about?  Did we have more than a few laughs when she wasn’t around? Why, we had to put ourselves and her on speakerphone just to pacify her. She even tried to stir up trouble by suggesting that we oust our matriarch – for no good reason - and put her in that esteemed position!  You can see her standing next to the legitimate queen above, trying to get close to the power.  Well, to stop put a stop to all her outrageous shenanigans once and for all, I have decided to give a full and accurate account of the cousins’ reunion.  Then she can stop torturing herself and everyone else. But, I’m warning her, this is a one year only deal.  Next year she must personally appear at the reunion.  So, here goes…

While most stories build up to something exciting, our excitement came right away.  Our first night together found us in the basement of Tony’s Restaurant taking cover from a tornado which did , in fact, touch down a few miles away.  Luckily, we had wine and wit to distract us from the cobwebs, the must, the dust, and the rumblings outside.  I sneaked to a quiet corner to call my  family and advise them of my whereabouts lest they need to come search for me .  It went something like this: “WHO is this?  Oh, are you gone this weekend? Yeah, I’ll tell Dad.  He’s eating.  He doesn’t want to talk. We’re at Panera.  No, I don’t need to write it down.  I’ll remember the restaurant’s name – Honey’s, right? Bye, Mom.”

We survived the first exciting event.  Little did we know what other adventures were awaiting us…things which caused us to laugh loud, uproariously, and nearly in one voice..

Making sure one cousin did not overdose --- on Gas-X.

Politely congratulating one cousin on her “great find” which appeared to be an old, beat up wooden table with a lamp attached. 

Chowing down on pizza, sweet potato fries, baked potato soup, toasted ravioli, gooey butter cake,oh, and of course,chocolate-covered bacon.  Now that I think about ,I'm the one who chowed down on most of those things; I'm not sure what the rest of them ate.  Who cares?

Learning with certainty that the superior intellect and beauty of our bloodline is indeed  being carried on to the next generation—if the grandchildren tales are to be believed.  Upon seeing that her shoes must be removed at airport security, one clever child whispered in Grandma's ear, "Do we have to take off the rest of our clothes, too?"   A brilliant deduction, indeed!  

Suffering  in silence sas my very own sister attempted to photograph a once-in-a-lifetime-guaranteed-to-go-viral shot of a cousin using a Tide stick to eliminate evidence of her sister's having sat in bird do – only to discover that my sis had taken a lengthy video of herself instead.  And I thought Siri only laughed at me.

Rejoicing in our new-found wealth after a short, but sweet, visit to the casino. 

Hearing several scatological tales which Tiztalk's ever-vigilant censors would not dream of printing (my children read this, you know)

But our most fun was just what we thought it was going to be: simply being together, laughing, and relishing our cousinhood.

Kinnin' and grinnin'

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Liz/Tizmom/Elizabeth

Post-Holiday Ravings

     

Hi, Friends & Fam,

I was feeling like a real slacker posting a Christmas blog in February, but somehow my readers usually turn out to be  even bigger slackers than I am.. that's what prompted me to go ahead and post this blog which I've had half-written since early January.  A certain member of my family  just informed me that  their Christmas tree was taken down yesterday, so I felt empowered.  And just in case you still haven't gotten around to taking those pesky lights off your front porch, sit down, put your feet up, and waste a little time with me.   Why rush into things?

NEWS FLASH!!  Just received a text from Nancy.  Wanna hear it? Here it is:"I only have one bra we need to go shopping soon!" Isn't motherhood grand?  So, if you have any old bras, please send them her way.   Feel free to take her shopping, too.  (Note:  this really annoyed her, so I am doing my motherly job. )

Now, back to Christmas...

  Growing up, my holiday chore included taking drink orders -- iced tea or 7-up (only available on Thanksgiving and Christmas, of course!). Sometimes I also had to unload the dishwasher, but I protested so much about that unfair imposition on my time that I often got out of it.  Consequently, I am totally unqualified to do much of anything but hang around and have a good time.  And I am very good at that.    But a few times a year -- Christmas being one of those times -  I must rise from my chair and attempt to prepare a feast for my family.  Things don't always go smoothly...


   If you are a long time Tiztalk fan, you know that if I were an actress, no one would need to show me how to do pratfalls for the big laugh – I’m a natural. This year at Christmas  I proved my mettle once again. I managed to slosh a batch of defrosted raw turkey blood all over my kitchen counter, my nice Christmas dish towel, and, of course, myself. A little raw poultry juice never hurt anyone, right? Then I almost made it to the fridge without sloshing the red Jello (note: the trick is NOT to look at the pan). However, I blinked or maybe my nose itched; I’ll never know. I lost my concentration and got to clean up red Jello from the fridge drawers, counter, floor, and even from underneath the fridge. But, hey, what else did I have to do on Christmas?

           

Worst of all,  my children had the audacity to complain about their unanimous favorite dessert that I make. As I walked in the door following my 300 mile trip home from Illinois, Molly greeted me with these words: “Mom, there’s hair in the lemon squares.” Mind you, this minor flaw didn’t keep any of them from eating each and every one of them, but they seemed to delight in pulling out a hair each time one was consumed. I’m not quite sure how the hair got in there, but since they made such a big deal out of it, I decided to memoralize it with this little ditty:

To me it’s not fair;

I wasn’t there.

They can’t prove a thing

But their words still sting.

I was accosted the moment I walked in the door.

You’d think they’d never seen their mother before. 

They couldn’t wait to fill my ears

with words that might bring other mothers to tears.
 

They gleefully, evilly recounted their tale,

of something they’d found that made them wail. 

In front of my new son-in-law Cody,

they made me look downright nasty and grody.

There was a little problem, you see; 

they pointed their fingers directly at me.

What they’d found was long and dark and frizzy; 

It could only belong to someone named Tizzie. 

Tim spouted off, “I found a hair.”

Molly chimed in, “in a lemon square.” 

Megan admitted, “I did, too."

Then Nancy whined , “I didn’t know what to do.”

Now, mind you, it didn’t stop them a bit

They just pulled out the hair and went on with it.

They scarfed down the lemon squares - every last one,

then picked on me just for fun.

At my age, I'm glad I still have hair.

I've never mentioned THEIR hair that I find everywhere....

So, friends and family,  please beware.

Carefully inspect your lemon squre.

And if you find a hair in there,

Tell someone who gives a care.

Hairy & merry
I remain

Tiz/Tizzie/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

P.S.  If I knew how to make all the fonts the same, I would.  They are not that way for effect -- just due to my ignorance and laziness.