Having a Gray Old Time - 7-20-20

Having a Gray Old Time

TP Count: 19 (living dangerously)

PT Count: 11

Hi, friends, fam, and frenemies,

Happy quarantine!   You must be getting desperate.  Well, I’m here to help you waste even more time than you have already in the past four months.  So, have a seat (oh, you’re already sitting?), lean back (your recliner is back as far as it will go, you say?), relax (you’re half asleep?), and read on (if you remember how).  I’ve always said it, “No one can slack like a Tiztalk reader.”

Have you had any unexpected shows of kindness during this pandemic?  You know people offering to pick up groceries for you or take your recycling?  I have had one.  I think.  As you can see from the photo, my true colors are starting to show, and they are definitely not “chestnut brown.” About a month ago, my husband  asked me when I was having my hair colored.  I replied that I wasn’t in any hurry.  He suggested that maybe “we” could do it at home.  We?   My husband offering to help color my hair? That’s a first.  I didn’t know he noticed.  Well, so far, I haven’t taken him up on his kind offer.  I am just letting nature take its course.  I even read about this product you can buy online for $13 that will take out all the dye in your hair.   Despite my daughter Nancy’s eagerness to experiment on my hair and my curiosity to see what I really look like in an alternate universe, I have not given in to that urge yet.  I think a ½” per month (how fast hair grows) change is about my speed.   

Another thing that has happened around here as we are holed up together is that we become very aware of one another habits.  Has that happened to you?  For example, my husband and daughter seem to pay special attention to my hair drying routine.   I suspect this is because my hair drying interferes with their TV watching.  Just when they think I’m done, the dryer starts up again.  Doesn’t every gal dry her hair in three separate steps – blow dry with a brush. Turn off. Blow dry with head down. Turn off. Put velcro curlers in. Blow dry.  Really whose business is it?  They both get worked up because they walk by and I am reading a book while I dry my hair.  Doesn’t everyone?  I know my sister does.  Well, it’s not always a book; sometimes it’s a newspaper, magazine, or my phone.  And then they accuse me of not having the dryer aimed at my hair.  How dare them? A girl doesn’t get hair like mine (see photo) without a lot of effort and special techniques. Don’t you agree?

Like many of you, I’ve been learning the ins and outs of online grocery ordering.  I placed my first order one Monday morning, and it was scheduled to be available the next Thursday at two.  Could  I go that long without some form of chocolate?  I had to find out. I did, but barely.   

The main problem with online grocery ordering is people wanting to help you wipe and unpack it. They are like a pack of hungry wolves, desperate to see what vittles you dragged home for them.  If I am not on my A game, they notice the mint chocolate cookies that go in a hidden pantry spot known only to a select audience.  Or the chocolate-covered blueberries I have no explanation for. Generally, after my grocery haul is safely placed into my trunk, I pull over and separate precious cargo from the general commissary items.  That way there’s no confusion.  Of course, I’m kind enough to leave a few packages of brand X wafer cookies or graham crackers in the general audience mix, so that I’m not perceived as purely heartless.  Despite my best efforts, I’ve still ended up with a gigantic bottle of mouthwash and a mess hall-sized roll of Reynolds Wrap.

Let’s face it.  This is a strange time. It seems that a lot of our time has been spent communing with nature or fighting against it. After spending my whole life without ever seeing one, I nearly stepped on a large black snake. I’m still suffering from PTSD (post-traumatic snake syndrome).  I’ve also seen several small snakes, lizards I didn’t know lived in Missouri, frogs, a turtle, too many deer to count, and lots of snails.  Could it be because we are taking forced marches on the same paths day after day? We’ve also had a robin’s nest in the backyard and been able to watch the babies get fed.  When I told my neighbor, who is an Earth mother extraordinaire, she commented that she had seen robins in the neighborhood getting worms but she hadn’t figured out where the nest was yet.  I figured that there couldn’t be a new bird family in our neighborhood without her knowing about it.   I learned that the female robin builds the nest, although the male helps her with supplies.  The male sings while the female lays the eggs and sits on the nest (sounds about right). They both follow the little chicks around once they have “fledged” ,or left the nest, to make sure that they have enough to eat.  So, now you haven’t wasted all your time reading this blog; you’ve actually learned something…….I’ve also witnessed my working-at-home daughter sitting on the back porch yelling at the birds to stop singing so loud so she could concentrate. So, who’s in whose space?? Hmmm.

We’ve also done an inordinate number of jigsaw puzzles, most of them 1000 pieces.  I timed myself for forty-five minutes one day, and I managed to place a piece every fifteen minutes.  While my husband assured me that my rate would increase as the puzzle came together, I did not share his optimism.  Instead, I took on a special place in the jigsaw puzzle process. I’m the closer.  That’s right.  When they get down to the last ten pieces, they call me in and I complete the job.  It’s very satisfying.

 I did manage a visit to my grandkids.  Can you stand one grandchildren tale?  If not, skip this paragraph.  While on Grandma duty, it was my job to get the pools out for the boys (3 and 1) to swim in the driveway.  There was one for each boy. Despite having a very cool pirate pool with palm trees, a slide, and a spraying cannon, the older boy only wanted to torment his brother and mess with his baby toys.  So, I started a little game where we would throw things into the bigger pool to see what would float.  We threw in plastic cups, toys, corks, balls, etc.  Well, when I was helping the little guy maneuver out of his pool without faceplanting on the concrete, the older one decided to try another “what floats” experiment; he threw in our beach towels.  Guess what?  They don’t float. Me and my bright ideas.

During most of the quarantine we had a young Chinese woman staying with us.  She was one of my husband’s students.  She is an excellent cook, and she shared her talents with us many nights.  She would spend hours preparing homemade specialties. I also shared some of my cooking secrets that quite amazed and impressed her:  boil-in-a bag rice, microwave rice, microwave-in-the bag vegetables, Bob Evans mashed potatoes, and Pepperidge Farm pound cake.   She thought they all tasted just fine.  Welcome to America.

TIZHAP TIME

 What’s a Tiztalk blog without a tizhap?  I have lots of these to choose from daily, but I only share a select few with you.

Well, here goes.  This one will make you feel good about yourself. Maybe.  Unless you’ve done the same thing. I was up early and decided to order groceries from HyVee for pick up.  I was surprised that the website said I could pick them up in a few hours.  The last time I had ordered the wait was four days. So, I asked Alexa for my grocery list and felt very smug that I had completed my shopping before anyone was awake.  Wouldn’t they be surprised when we had plenty of eggs and English muffins?  It was an exciting day indeed. I had three activities to do – a pretty full day during quarantine. I even put on lipstick. First I went to a Shelter Gardens and took a lovely walk.  Next I got gas and wiped my windshields.  Finally, I moseyed over to HyVee right on time.  Wasn’t I surprised when they couldn’t find my order.  What? Did you leave the apostrophe out of my name?  Was it under my daughter’s name?  In frustration, I handed him my phone to prove that my order was ready for pick up.  Perhaps I’d selected a HyVee across town.  How annoying. He examined it and replied, “Ma’am, this order is ready in Canton, Illniois.”   You see, I had ordered groceries from HyVee the previous week for my cousin who lives – you guessed it – in Canton, IL. 

Graying and relaying,

I remain

Tizzie/Liz/Elizabeth/Tiz/Tizmom/Grandma/Grizzie

Foolin' Around

Blogpost April 2, 2020

TP Count: 52

PT Count: 8.5 (including 6 jumbo rolls)

Hi, friends, fam, and frenemies,

So, you’ve decided to do some slacking?  Well, you’ve come to the right place.  Besides nothing, what have you had time to do while under house arrest?  

Here’s what I’ve had time to do….

Carry off a proper April Fool’s Day joke.  Check out Nancy O’Connell’s FB page if you want to  further investigate the "smoking toilet" above...

Catch in the act the dog that’s been doing its business in our back yard and sic my husband on him (the owner, that is).  That one was interesting.  

Open up my new vacuum cleaner that’s been in the box for a month and figure out how to use it.  My old one has been duct-taped together for quite some time.  It’s so traumatic to learn to use new devices.  Things didn’t go well.  Of course, I didn’t read the directions.  I never understand them anyway and can never find the parts the red arrows are pointing to.  So, it was just good old trial and error.  I wondered if vacuuming off the screened porch was the best way to start…. With any luck, it is charged and will turn on today.  And the dirt thingie will open up. Wish me luck.  I always need it.

Make a real grocery list and categorize it by aisles and departments and write it out in lovely cursive, something that some of you female readers of a certain age still know how to do.  It’s one of my few talents that impresses my children.  And I even managed to get to the store with the list.

Figure out – due to several rainstorms - the origin of the water in the garage.   I have insisted for years that it is seeping up through the cracks in the floor.  My husband has insisted that it is coming in due to a piece of rubber missing from the seal at the bottom of the garage door.  After much scientific review, well, you don’t really care, do you?  And I don’t want to look bad.  

Observe a squirrel violate our “guaranteed squirrel-free” bird feeder.  He only got as far as the water, but now I have a reason to stand at my kitchen window all day and gather evidence.

Learn how to host a baby shower on Zoom.  And I thought having one in my house was bad.  I’d much rather make an egg casserole than learn how to download an app, create a password, remember the password,  invite attendees (I often end up inviting my whole contact list in these situations, so if you receive an invite and you have no idea who “Amy” is, please ignore it.), and hold forth (well, that part I think I can actually do) for an hour while we all watch the mother-to-be gush over her gifts.  My daughter says there’s nothing to it.  I’ll let you know.  Feel free to Zoombomb us if you can figure out how.

Take long walks.  In fact, I was taking one earlier this week at a nearby trail when my sister happened to call (imagine that). I was talking to her as I finished the loop.  Unbeknownst to me, my husband was reading a book at a picnic table under the nearby shelter. He commented that while trying to concentrate on his book he had heard “some loud-mouthed broad talking on the phone” and had wondered why a she couldn’t take a walk without talking on the phone.  Well, I’m always happy to be in people’s thoughts, no matter what those thoughts are. 

Smokin’ and jokin’,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Liz/Elizabeth/Mom/Grandma/Grizzie

Groutfit Musings

March 25, 2020

TP count: 54.5

PT count: 13.5 (includes 6 jumbos)

Hi, slackers,

You might think you are a slacker, but have you had a half-written blogpost sitting in your Word file since Dec. 15?  Have you been housebound for ten days and still not managed to get it completed?  Even after my New Year’s resolution to write more blogs…  Well, since I’m home with nothing better to do, and, obviously, you are, too, here goes…

I’m sitting here in my groutfit (that means I’m all in gray – sweatpants and top – get the picture? Don’t dwell on it too much…) not counting my calories or points or much of anything other than rolls of toilet paper and paper towels.  Unlike you true slackers --er I mean "readers" -   I do have on a full set of undergarments, real shoes, and I've showered.  Can you say the same?

We are stocked up for life around here, although I must admit have already made a quite a dent in the chocolate and donut supplies.  However, we have plenty of pot pies and canned apricots to see us through.  Since re-acquiring our stay-at-home daughter for an indefinite visit, it’s hard to say who will prevail in the ever-increasing competition for the last of the chocolate-covered grahams or the caramel M & M’s.  Oops, I slipped on that last one.  No one but me knew there WERE caramel M & M’s in the house.  I’m going to have to be more careful.  Let’s just say, there are no current supplies of caramel M & M’s available to the general family.  Heh heh.  

You might wonder what I’ve been doing while under house arrest.  Well, here’s a sampling: 

Today I’ve had to track down everything I can find out on Prince Charles’s COVID-19 diagnosis.  Did he call Harry?  Does Harry feel terribly guilty about leaving his elderly father back in Olde England?  Is William on high alert?  Quite alarmed at reading of it this morning, I announced it to my husband who wasn’t sure which one Prince Charles is.  No kidding.  I told him he could never be in the royal watchers’ club my daughters and I share.  He says he doesn’t care.  He didn’t even know that Princess Anne and my sister share the same birth date.  Exactly the same.  What are the chances?  Or that Meghan and Harry live in the same part of Canada my daughter-in-law’s brother, or that Meghan was a Kappa at Northwestern.  Well, the list could go on.  I told him he could at the very least watch The Crown. He wandered out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

I take regular walks around the area, usually while listening to a true crime podcast.  Today a lovely slim dog ran into the street with no leash or apparent master.  It’s a very distinctive breed, but as I am mostly illiterate of dogs, except for my dear granddog Frannie – I couldn’t tell you what it was.  After a quick Google, I would say that it resembled a Pharaoh hound.  Cars were slamming on their brakes from both directions.  When I noticed the commotion, I changed my route and sneaked down a side road.  I imagine that a dog lover or two tracked down its owner or at least reported it on the NextDoor app where the event will, no doubt, consume the rest of the day with impassioned comments about irresponsible dog owners.  I’ll keep you posted.

 I’ve partaken of the “old folks’ hour” at our local grocery store. Half of the battle is admitting that I AM one of the “old folks.”  Do you have that problem, too?   Anyway, the hardest part of going to the store nowadays avoiding the urge to hoard. How many eggs do I want, need, or could I possibly eat?  But there aren’t many left…. But what are the chickens going to do?  Stop laying them?  They don’t know there’s a pandemic. But maybe the chicken owners will need to eat the chickens, in which case….Ok, yes, I need a Xanax or maybe some of the CBD gummies that my daughter keeps trying to foist on me.   

My husband has taken to cleaning up the yard and every once in a while – always at the most inopportune time – perhaps I’ve just opened a bag of M & M’s  (shhhh) or I’ve just sat down to watch Jeopardy or both – will request that I help him by “holding the bag” (yeah, that’s about right) while he inserts shovels full of sweet gum tree droppings, which, incidentally, look just like Coronavirus. My daughter told me that as she was “working at home” in my basement, she gleefully looked out to see me holding the bag in the rain.  She was happy that she had escaped this duty and also the job of dragging said bags to the curb.

Our credit card had a fraudulent charge on it for $179.99.  That and the phone calls that have resulted have provided many hours of confusion, speculation, outrage, trepidation, and dinner time conversation.     How dare they suggest that we must have alternate emails or phone numbers?  Today was the day for the final showdown with the offending company. I was prepared to do battle.  However, when I checked my bill, the charge had been removed, and no one ever did tell me what had been charged and removed.  I was kinda disappointed.

Now I’ll share my blogpost from December ….

Blogpost – December 15, 2019  

Happy holidays, friends, fam, and frenemies,

You might be wondering why I am writing blog ten days before Christmas. 

Empty nesters will agree that life changes as the years go by.  The number of things to do and the urgency to do them subsides. Well, sort of.

Recent texts I’ve received: 

“This sucks.”  As well as a video of and actor saying, “I’ve made a huge mistake.” (From my daughter at Thanksgiving when her dad took her up on her offer to help him bag leaves.).  She had forgotten, that when he bags leaves, he’s talking twelve bags, and he insists that every bag be filled with every last leaf it will hold. 

“The older you become the more holidays become about keeping your father off a ladder.”  From same daughter, but she did steal this one from The Reader’s Digest which I gave her to read on the plane.  She had tried, without success, to prevent her father from getting up on a ladder and cleaning the gutters.

“Feel free to buy hats/gloves for both boys, too.”  From daughter who has two little boys who I hope have hats and gloves for the next ten days until I get there for Christmas.  One of them evidently doesn’t have a winter coat either.  Well, it’s amazing what your children don’t mind waiting for until Grandma arrives. 

 A Few Tizhaps

Dinner at the U. Club

Last week we had a bit of a Tizhap.  You remember those?  When Tiz kind of messes up, although usually it’s not her fault.  Anyway, we had plans to meet friends at the University Club at the Alumni Center to celebrate my birthday and my friend’s.  She had made the reservation.  Wednesday night my cohort and I put on our finest and headed to the club.   I made my usual joke that we wouldn’t be the first ones there as there are always “elderly” (as in older than we are) couples waiting outside the door for the club to open  at 5:00 pm– you know, white-haired guys in sports jackets and ladies with their purses on their laps.  Well, I was wrong this time.  The place was dark.  The door was closed, and so was the club.  Evidently, I had written it down wrong on my calendar.  Just then, the manager, who had another event going on down the hall, walked by.  He took one look at us and asked if we would like him to get us bottles of water.  Did we look thirsty?  Or maybe we looked like one of those elderly couples that I was talking about.  We refused the water.  Then he asked, “Well, is there anything I can do for you?”  My husband’s reply, “Can you cook us dinner?” He declined.  We were all dressed up with nowhere to go, so we walked across campus and ended up at Shakespeare’s Pizza, which has won awards for best pizza in a college town or some such prize.  We were the best dressed couple there.  And probably the oldest, too.  We enjoyed and aptly named “Darwin” pizza.  Luckily, we haven’t won the Darwin Award yet.  We did make it to dinner the next night, as, after all, we are senior citizens, and my prime rib dinner is free during my birthday month.

Trip to Wal-Mart

During the Christmas rush, Wal-Mart had greeters who also were randomly checking receipts as you left the store. As the lines at the registers were long, I had reluctantly checked myself out.  I suspect I was stopped because I had a few bottles of wine in the cart and hadn’t bothered to put them in bags.  Maybe I had just run back and thrown some booze in the cart without paying?  Anyway, the lady asked me how many 12 packs of paper towels I had purchased.  I replied, “one.” She said, “Well, your receipt says that you purchased two packages.”  I checked the receipt, and she was right.  She sent me to customer service to get an $18 refund for the paper towels.  Of course, I would have been furious if the cashier had made the mistake. No return lines are quite like Wal-marts.  You can go in the store at midnight and there will be a line.  Anyway, the line was long and there was only one person doing returns and refunds.  After waiting ten minutes, I decided to solve my own problem. I walked back and got another large package of paper towels.  The receipt checker applauded me for my ingenuity, and I found that I don’t need other people to rip me off.  I’m perfectly capable of ripping off myself.

The Laundry Mystery

I probably shouldn’t tell this story.  You might suspect that I am chewing on CBD gummies all the time.   But it’s just too good to keep to myself.  Maybe you have a similar tale you are ashamed to tell?  When I go to my daughter’s, I do the laundry.  Last time I was there, I was doing one last load of mostly kids’ clothes, including a bag of items from day care, before heading home.  When I went to put the clothes in the dryer, I was annoyed to discover that a tissue had been left in a pocket.  I couldn’t imagine how that had happened as kids don’t routinely carry tissues in their pockets.  As I tried to pick off the lint, it seemed to be more like little plastic balls than paper.  It was quite hard to pick it off.  I took out my son-in-law’s golf shirts and hung them to dry; they didn’t seem to have attracted too much of the gunk.   Then I got back to my task of picking off the weird lint on each piece of clothing.  Wasn’t I surprised when I discovered that it wasn’t a tissue at all that had caused the problem.    Are you ready for this?  I had washed a whole load of laundry with a rolled up dirty  (only # 1, folks, I’m not that out of it!) diaper.  I considered hiding the evidence and putting the whole thing behind me, but it was too good of a story not to tell.  And that’s how I’ve gotten myself in trouble all my life – by laughing and telling tales when I should just keep quiet.

Well, that’s all for now folks.  

Grouting, counting, but not pouting,

and going nowhere fast, 

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth/Grandma/Grizzie