Post-Holiday Ramblings 2021

2/17/21

TP count: 48, including a few triple rolls (jealous?)

Towel count: 21

Dear friends, frenemies, and family,

Are you sneering at the title of this blog?  Would you prefer the Word file title: “Blog Notes Nov. 2020”?    I had my notes ready months ago. But remember I am a slacker just like you. What was I doing that I couldn’t even get a holiday or even a post-holiday blog out until February? Was I fixing a big Christmas dinner? Having my family and grandkids swarming my house? Inviting in my friends and neighbors for a parties? Like you, I’ve made lots of lists, but I haven’t checked much off of any of them.  Oh, well…

Since you insist on wasting your time with me, here goes:

If you ever need to get me a Christmas gift, leather gloves are always a safe bet. Just ask my kids. One can never have enough of those. Well, I seem to rarely have even two of those. Not at the same time anyway, and not from the same pair. I try to at least ask separate kids for them each year, but sometimes they catch on. This year Nancy got me a lovely pair of Ralph Lauren leather gloves. They are nice indeed. So nice that I am afraid to wear them. They are lovingly packed away in tissue. She even made me a wager. She said that if I still had both of them by next Christmas that she would give me fifty dollars. It’s a deal. I have placed them in a hermetically sealed compartment high in the closet. I will release them next Christmas when it’s time to claim my prize. I don’t see any cold weather ahead, do you?

Of course, I lose more than just gloves. My sister got me a warm and fuzzy black headband for Christmas.  I love wearing it to walk. Guess what? One day it vanished. Into thin air. Just like many of my other possessions. So, I surreptitiously ordered another one. However, my inquisitive daughter shares my Amazon account. She began inquiries, “Mom, did you lose that black headband Aunt Mary Ann got you?” I told her to mind her own business unless she wants to pay the Prime subscription. Furthermore, the headband miraculously reappeared on the hook under my husband’s coat, but I will be prepared when it decides to hide from me again.

Since I listen to lots of podcasts and audiobooks, Nancy decided that I needed AirPod wireless headphones for Christmas. I insisted that I didn’t want one more thing that needs to be charged up. I’m glad she listened, as I read an article last week about a man who fell asleep listening to something on his phone (doesn’t everyone?).  When he woke up, he discovered that he had swallowed an AirPod in his sleep. That could have been me! Whew! Dodged a major Tizhap on that one.

Since I’ve been under house arrest for a year now, I’ve noticed a few flaws in my house. I’m tired of holding up the silverware drawer with my knee. My kitchen appliances have a combined age of 97 years.  My Formica countertops are a year or two out of date. Luckily, I have friends who are experts on all such matters. I even hired a designer. I had to stop her several times and tell her that I had no idea what she was talking about — undermount vs overmount sinks, barnyard (sorry, it’s “farmhouse”) sinks, full overlap vs partial overlay cabinets, etc.  She created a plan that I’ve been considering, but here are my problems.  With the new plan, I can’t lean back in my kitchen chair, open the junk drawer, and grab the WiteOut when I’m doing my morning crossword. What will I do with all the stuff on my fridge if I get a stainless one that won’t hold magnets?  What’s the point of having cabinets to the ceiling if I can’t reach any of them? Can I get used to having my garbage in a drawer?  Are these colors in style? Are they about to go out of style? What about resale? And the questions go on. The best advice one friend gave me is “Do what you want and let the kids worry about it.” I like that philosophy;  however, my friends and the designer won’t let me do what I want. While I am yearning for the sparkly countertop and the medicine cabinet with a cool little shelf attached, they unanimously decide that I need the small swirl counter (that’s a terrible description — I don’t know what it’s called) and the plain mirrored cabinet. The weird thing is that the designer and my friends  always come to the same conclusion. How do they know? What do I know?  Not much evidently.

I’m afraid that what always afflicts me when I buy something new will happen when I redo the kitchen:  buyer’s remorse. I got a new Subaru Forester last year, and I still long for my 2008 Honda CR-V and its arm rests and reachable seatbelts. I got a new washer a couple years ago, and I still long for my old one which allowed me to lift the lid with abandon. I even yearn for my Apple IIC computer with which I could easily create cute greeting cards and banners. So, what’s a girl to do? I do come by this naturally, as my mother remodeled her kitchen and once – in 1955. And she never liked any of the wallpaper that was ever replaced in our house. My sister and I had French girls dressed in blue and pink  wearing  hats and  carrying parasols in a Monet-type setting. When it was removed against Mom’s will – it was falling off the wall, I might add —  in the late 1970s, she saved a swatch of it and put it in our decidedly unfinished and creepy basement. Right before selling the home, my sister made a last dash to the basement to see if she could retrieve the swatch, and we could frame it. Somehow it had disappeared. And yes, we are all nuts.

Instead of the kitchen, I’ve decided to start with Bob’s bathroom.  He was perfectly happy with his bathroom, and did not want it updated. Of course, he’ll love it in the end, right? We are now on Day 10 of the remodel.  He’s worried about where he can hang his back brush.  Decisions.  Decisions … By the way, he also likes his 2000 Honda Accord. Using that logic, he must think I’m ok, too, right?

Tizhaps:

While Finn, our three-year-old grandson, was visiting, we were attempting to fix a big breakfast. Chef Bob was in charge of the eggs, and Finn was being what my Aunt Wish used to call "HI’arious.” Bob loudly exclaimed that he couldn’t do his job because he was being “assaulted” by Finn. Really? I recall fixing many a meal while besieged by three little O’Connell assailants. Anyway, due to what my mother would have termed the “hubbub and confusion”, I accidentally dropped a perfectly fluffy pancake into the bowl of batter.  Twice-baked pancakes, anyone? 

I’ve been working on family history and sent some information out to my cousins. This resulted in a wonderful email exchange with a faraway cousin. I asked her about her about family members, a young relative joining the military, etc. It was only after about three emails that I realized I had mistaken her for another cousin. She might have wondered why I was asking about her niece and nephew, but not her daughter. I eventually fessed up. We LOL’d a bit, and she forgave me.  

Other thoughts:

The best thing and the worst thing happened to me recently. An old friend sent me a four-page typed letter. The good news is that I got a four-page typed letter. The bad news is that I now owe someone a four-page typed letter. Maybe this blog will suffice. Don’t worry, Karen, I’ll reply one of these days. Thanks for making my day but ruining my life.

Whining and designing,

I remain

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