Dear friends, fam, and frenemies,
It's the season for tricks, so I thought I would share a few episodes that involve trickery. Here goes.
My living room redo is officially complete. I have been enjoying my leather recliner. Well, at least I was enjoying it. One morning when my grandson Owen, 4, was visiting, I noticed that the armrest was covered with ballpoint scribbles. When he woke up, I took him to the chair and asked him if he had written on Grandma's chair. He looked me in the eye and insisted that he hadn't done it. I asked who had done it. His reply? A werewolf. I said, "You mean a werewolf came through the sliding glass door and wrote on my chair?" "Yes," he replied,"but it was kind of hard because he has paws not hands." Evidently, those paws didn't stop him from holding a ballpoint pen. After a few failed attempts using internet suggestions, I went to a shoe repair shop and bought a bottle of ball point pen remover just for leather. When I inspected the chair more completely to find an obscure spot to test the ink remover, I discovered that the entire right side of the chair had been used as a canvass by my budding pen and ink artist. The ink remover didn't remove anything but the dye on the leather, so now I have a conversation piece in my living room. Owen visited again last weekend. When his mother confronted him with the evidence, he again insisted that a werewolf was the culprit. Like me, my daughter is very clever, especially when it comes to tricking her children. She took him aside and said, "Grandma has a video of you writing on that chair." He looked up, confused, and said, "So I did do it?" I guess that's as close as I will get to a confession.
I don't know about your spouses, but when we visit our kids or when the kids come visit, my husband likes to keep to his usual schedule. That means a lengthy trip to Starbucks to sip coffee and read a book. Lately, he has taken to letting a grandchild or two accompany him on these sacrosanct visits. He has convinced them that it is a high honor to go with him and quietly read a book or do a puzzle while he reads. And they have fallen for it. They get very excited when they are asked to go along. They get their tote bags ready with appropriate items and stand at attention waiting to go. He usually treats them to a cake pop or egg sandwich. After that, it's study hall. He even took two siblings on one visit, but something suspicious happened. Silence prevailed and all was going well, so he decided to go to the bathroom. While he was in there, he heard loud voices and carrying on that sounded just like the grandkids. It was a few minutes before he could investigate. When he returned to the table, the little angels were quietly reading their books, so he never did figure out the cause of the commotion..
Hopefully, this is my last mention of Pottery Barn, but here goes one more story. When I purchased my new chairs, I was tricked into getting a Pottery Barn credit card to receive rewards cash. I had my doubts, but my husband thought it was a good deal, and he had gone along with getting the chairs I wanted. The problem with the rewards is that they expire. I had to decide in a hurry, something most of you know is not my super power. Having $350 to spend at PB is like giving someone a $20 gift card to Neiman Marcus; it doesn't go very far. I can't tell you (well, I could but you would think I was an idiot) how long it took me to spend that money. I felt as if the sword of Damocles was hanging over my head as I rushed to pick something - anything- out before the money expired. A lovely sleek white leather jewelry box caught my eye. I guess I could replace the one my sister got me for HS graduation, but I do love wood painted with daisies, don't you? I determined that the PB jewelry box cost more than the total of my jewelry, so I rejected it. Next I saw a great basket for $132. I had nothing particular to put in it, so I rejected it, too. I found the perfect pillow shams, but they were out of stock. Eventually, I ended up with a dough bowl, two candlesticks, some second-best pillow shams, and a metal basket just like the one I saw a Target last week for half the price.
This story concerns my brother Bob. He was recently advised by the VA to join a chair yoga class. The class was on Zoom. He decided to give it a try. At the appointed time, he sat down and joined the class. The teacher advised that she was going to start the class with breathing exercises. Bob joined in, breathing deeply. However, it seemed that the class was nothing but breathing activities. Bob had never been to a yoga class, so he figured that this was what it entailed. After 45 minutes of sitting in his chair and breathing and watching the teacher sit quietly, he was relieved when the class ended. He was sent a link to evaluate the class. He responded that it was the biggest waste of his time ever and that he wouldn't be attending any more sessions. Then he got a phone call. It was the teacher. She wanted to know if he was okay. He said that he was. She said, "Well, since you didn't do any of the activities, I thought maybe you had a problem." Bob said, "What activities? All you did was sit and breath." She said that she had gong through an entire protocol of exercises. She determined that Bob's screen had been frozen the whole time....So, if you ever want to play a trick on someone, my brother Bob would be a great candidate.
Bob and I aren't gardeners, but we have been trying to improve our yard. That includes adding a bird feeder. Last year, the seeds that the birds left behind blossomed into small --- albeit kind of short and scraggy - sunflowers. But a flower is a flower, right? This year, the same thing seemed to be happening, except that the stems were scratchy, and no blooms were appearing, but at least they kept getting taller. I suspected that they were going to be tall sunflowers this year. Then my neighbor came over and wondered why we were growing tall weeds in the front yard. Weeds? They were weeds? It turns out that this year's birdseed contains thistle, not sunflower seeds. Of course, the thistle puts down nice strong roots. But at least we're good at growing something, right?
TIZHAPS
My kids sent me a corsage for Mother's Day. I hadn't had one in quite a while, and I found it hard to pin on my blouse. I tried putting the long pin horizontally, vertically, and even at a slant -- pricking my fingers each time, of course -- without luck. I finally thought I had it on right, so I went to the bathroom mirror to check. I decided that it needed yet another adjustment. I pulled it off, and guess what? My corsage splashed into the toilet. Yep, that's me all right. I closed my eyes, grabbed it, and stuck it on. Next year I'm asking for a wrist corsage.
I've recently rejoined WW; I would say Weight Watchers, but that's not allowed. So, my habits have changed. I'm doing something that I obviously was not in the habit of doing regularly: weighing myself each morning. I was doing okay until about the third day when I hopped out of bed and found myself standing on something that didn't flash my weight. The reason? I was standing on the Roomba. Luckily, it didn't take off....
Tricking and schticking,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Liz/Elizabeth/Mom/Tizmom/Grandma
Photos above: Tiz, the guilty party?, the werewolf's handiwork
Below: My jewelry box
