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
