"Grown" Kids

Hi, everybody,

What is a "grown kid" anyway? When you hear someone say, "Her kids are grown", do you get visions of a woman whose life is completely her own, one whose days are spent deciding just what to do and when to do it? A woman whose house is perpetually picked up and who eats cheesecake and wine for dinner if she feels like it? If a man or woman is single and perhaps dating a friend or relative of yours and he/she has "grown kids" ,do you think, "How nice. No complications." But isn't the term "grown kids" really an oxymoron? If you're a kid, you're not grown, right? If you're grown, then you're not a kid, right? This all brings me to today's blog. Certainly by the standards of most world cultures, I have 3 "grown kids". However, at times, they seem anything but grown. One of them still likes to sit on my lap. (I won't say which one.... Okay, okay, if you insist, it's Tim. Now if that didn't put a weird image in your head I don't know what would). One of them was here last week and left a jacket with a button that needs sewing and she stole my toothpaste when she left. (Don't you just love it when that happens? I laugh just thinking of myself searching for that elusive tube of toothpaste before work yesterday morning). One of them was out of underwear for 2 days while waiting for me to complete washing about 25 pairs of panties (okay, Tim again.) A couple of them have junked up my bathroom shower to the extent that it could double as a spa. Come on over. There are 7 bottles of shampoo, apricot sloughing stuff, 2 loofas (sp?) a foot scrubbing brush, various razors, my face wash (another thing I was searching for yesterday morn)...okay now it's week later and I'm continuing this blog. In the name of truth, I must report that Bob, in fact, stole my toothpaste and that it's really not Tim who sits on my lap and runs out of underwear..Aside: I hosted bunco here last night. I'm still recovering. Tonight I've had to clean up the kitchen by finishing off those extra pieces of Texas sheet cake, those toffee peanuts, and a few M & M pretzels. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it, right?....Back to "grown kids". Well, I think I'm a bit guilty of this myself. I recall a time not so long ago when my brother, sister, and I were home and we all sat at the kitchen table while our mother (who was probably only 99 then) made all of us glasses of iced tea. It never occurred to us to get up and help or make our own...So, send me your thoughts on "grown kids". I'm studying the topic...

Kidding around and growing but not up,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Driven to Distraction

Hi, Sunday Slackers,

Have you ever cried over junk mail? Before tossing a piece yesterday, I got rather emotional. What, you might ask, could cause such a reaction? Do you really want to know? It was an invitation to subscribe to Sirius/XM Radio. Why, you ask, would someone cry over THAT? I’ll tell you why. A few years back I drove off a car lot in a new car with a sunroof, heated seats, and a free subscription to XM Radio. On my maiden trip home, I laughed so hard at a comedy routine that I nearly drove off the highway. I used to LAUGH in my car. In fact, Laugh USA was my preferred radio channel. I could keep myself well-entertained and felt that my eventual subscription price of $15/mo was an investment in my mental health. As an added bonus, I always had a joke to tell. You all remember how clever and funny used to be, right? So, what happened? When we went to Ireland for 10 mos, I canceled the XM subscription , and we sold Bob’s car. Since we returned to COMO in June, we have replaced neither. We are a one car family. I don’t find myself guffawing and driving off the road much anymore. In fact, now that we drive back and forth to work together each day I mostly find myself saying things like, “You know it wasn’t really your turn to go, right?” and “Have you ever driven all the way to work (it’s 4 miles) without cussing?” So, the Sirius/XM solicitation reminded me of one bright shining moment when my tousled tresses were blowing in the wind as I whisked down the highway in my very own new car howling with abandon….

Siriusly lacking,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Feelin' Flaky

Good afternoon, Snow Day slackers,

Shouldn't you be shoveling your driveway, eradicating ice sickles, or at least cleaning out your junk drawer? I guess you are plopped in front of your computer instead. I know several of you are supposed to be "working at home today". You know who you are...Like you, I began my day with high hopes of accomplishment. We finally got our photos from Ireland printed (Thank you, Nancy. I know you have one more reason to murder me now). There are over 700 of them. Bob and I plan to put them in albums today. Other things on my list of what to do with an unexpected gift of two days off include: organize my tax stuff, clean out the refrigerator, and finish reading _White Teeth_, my book club book. None of those tasks is particularly unpleasant. However, as of 3:14 PM, I haven't begun any of them. Here's what I have done instead. I may have set a new record in calorie consumption. I've had chocolate sheet cake, angel food cake, oatmeal with brown sugar, more chocolate cake, toffee peanuts, and, of course, the healthy lunch that Bob thinks is all I've eaten: soup, carrots, grapes, and a half a sandwich. I've talked on the phone and /or texted Mary, Mom, my brother Bob, Mary, Molly, Jody, Tim, Mom, Mary, and Nancy. We've compared snowfall rates, flake size/composition (ice pellets - not snowflakes - are falling Savoy, IL), and how we are occupying ourselves. Bob and I have watched _Citzen Kane_ which I had never seen start to finish. Bob is now napping, and I'm staring out the window at the blizzard and awaiting the once-in-a-lifetime experience that our weathermen have predicted: snow thunder. It is like a rainstorm with thunder and lightening except that snow, not rain, falls from the sky. It is quite rare, but the conditions are right today. So, I'll let you go finish your jigsaw puzzle or stir the soup while I hunger for thunder.

Eating cakes and watching flakes,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Feelin' Flaky

Good afternoon, snow day slackers,

Shouldn't you be shoveling your driveway, eradicating ice sickles, or at least cleaning out your junk drawer? I guess you are plopped in front of your computer instead. I know several of you are supposed to be "working at home today". You know who you are...Like you, I began my day with high hopes of accomplishment. We finally got our photos from Ireland printed (Thank you, Nancy. I know you have one more reason to murder me now). There are over 700 of them. Bob and I plan to put them in albums today. Other things on my list of what to do with an unexpected gift of two days off include: organize my tax stuff, clean out the refrigerator, and finish reading _White Teeth_, my book club book. None of those tasks is particularly unpleasant. However, as of 3:14 PM, I haven't begun any of them. Here's what I have done instead. I may have set a new record in calorie consumption. I've had chocolate sheet cake, angel food cake, oatmeal with brown sugar, more chocolate cake, toffee peanuts, and, of course, the healthy lunch that Bob thinks is all I've eaten: soup, carrots, grapes, and a half a sandwich. I've talked on the phone and /or texted Mary, Mom, my brother Bob, Mary, Molly, Jody, Tim, Mom, Mary, and Nancy. We've compared snowfall rates, flake size/composition (ice pellets - not snowflakes - are falling Savoy, IL), and how we are occupying ourselves. Bob and I have watched _Citzen Kane_ which I had never seen start to finish. Bob is now napping, and I'm staring out the window at the blizzard and awaiting the once-in-a-lifetime experience that our weathermen have predicted: snow thunder. It is like a rainstorm with thunder and lightening except that snow, not rain, falls from the sky. It is quite rare, but the conditions are right today. So, I'll let you go finish your jigsaw puzzle or stir the soup while I hunger for thunder.

Eating cakes and watching flakes,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Martha and Me

Good afternoon, Sunday slackers,

Got your snow all shoveled? Bills paid? Clothes laid out for the week? Mousetrap/possum/raccoon traps set? I didn't think so! Tiztalk readers are not obviously not the type of people who make good use of their time, if you know what I mean. Note the photo of two of my most avid readers. Enough said. Well, if you insist, Tiz will talk...Longtime readers will remember the creative decorating ideas I employed while in Ireland. Surely you remember my newspaper-covered box end tables? My wheelie cart that doubled as as coat rack? Well, what I didn't reveal was that that is pretty much my real life decorating style as well. But I have vowed to improve. You must realize that I come from a home where the item which greets visitors is the same as it has been since it was hung on the wall in 1956: a large photo of my sister and me dressed identically in matching dresses, hats, and gloves smiling angelically at the camera. Until I was about 30, I never realized that people actually changed their decor. I didn't know I was supposed to know how to select colors, paint, wallpaper, and set a bowl on a table just so. I thought once you picked out your wallpaper that was it. Forever. I didn't know to look for handiness in a husband. And even more important than handiness -- which my husband does grudgingly possess in a certain measure when he chooses to -- is willingness. Well, that trait rarely emerges when it comes to household improvement projects. Why, I thought I had hit the jackpot when I met Bob because he was (and is ) cute, smart, and funny. It never occurred to me to give him a hammer and nail test or ask him if he knew how to sand a floor. Luckily, he didn't make me pass a cooking test or demonstrate any useful knowledge either. So, I guess we deserve each other. But I have vowed to improve this place. This weekend I have ordered blinds, a bedspread, and bought 2 new throw rugs. While I bought the items on sale, there were sizable hidden costs. During my quest for home decor, I also ended up with 3 Christmas ornaments, a brassiere (I know Cara and Coady like the proper term to be used), a lovely pink cable knit turtleneck, a blue paisley top, a pair of lovely soft knee socks, and a nice pair of brown pants that fit perfectly. It occurred to me after my shopathon that I would could've hired Martha Stewart -- or at least Beth McDaniel --- to do my decorating for me and I would've come out ahead... Nonetheless, I have begun. I will keep you posted on my progress. In the meantime, I'm enjoying sitting at my table with non-matching chairs (believe me, they're not like the ones you see in magazines that clever people eclectically mismatch on purpose and put cute pillow on) which need repair, wallpaper that has its share of stains and gashes, a plaid valance which appears to have a bit of a spiderweb motif...

Always in good taste,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

A "Happy 40th Anniversary" shout out to Tom and Marty Bridwell!!

To Laugh or Not to Laugh

Hi, Blogpals,

Are you missing me? I guess Nancy isn't because she just asked me why I'm up so far past my bedtime. It is 11:45 PM, so that's a very good question. Why, I haven't been up this late since the senior prom -- and I don't mean the one at the local nursing home either. I've actually just wandered upstairs after a few hours of sleeping/TV watching. Who says I can't multitask? Why I've been doing it since before the term was invented...Anyway, I think Nancy is annoyed as she is nearing the end of week 4 of being home for Christmas vacation. And let's face it: Christmas is OVER. Why should she have time to herself w/o her parents hovering around? Bob just popped open a bottle of Bell Ridge red wine (you can only get this special variety at Castle Finn Winery outside of Paris, IL, so eat your hearts out, city folk!) and turned the TV up to a comfortable blare. I'm joining her at the kitchen table while she portends to be writing a paper for her intersession English class. However, she has earphones in and was looking at Facebook pictures last time I looked over her shoulder. She now appears to be doing arm dances and chewing a big wad of gum. She has drunk a 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi to "stay awake." Does she think she's in college or something? What was I thinking encouraging her to take this class? It seemed like a good way to keep her occupied and gain a few credits. Who was I kidding? As the resident English major, I wake up to rough drafts at my breakfast table with urgent pleadings to "fix them" and figure out what her thesis is. Of course, my biggest problem -- once I get her Mac opened, that is --is getting the dang thing to show up on her computer (I only know my girl Toshiba intimately) and stay there. I feel like the comedian who's invited to a dinner party and turns out not to be funny. The name of the class? Literature and Laughter. After writing a 3 page paper explaining why a few lines in a book were funny, neither Nancy nor I was laughing. ..aside from Nancy:"Why are you guys STILL awake??"...Well,enough on Nancy... What else is happening? Well, Bob met me for lunch today. I decided to spruce myself up before his arrival at the Student Center by applying a dash of lipstick. I smiled widely as I walked across the room and sat down. His first remark? "You have lipstick all over your teeth." Well, you can't say I didn't try. Furthermore, aren't vampires all the rage??..Nancy won't go to bed until I post this blog. But I've insisted that I'll "post no blog before its time". Bob was walking through the kitchen and piped in, "And I'll release no belch before its time." .. So now you know it's time to end this thing and officially go to bed..


Blosting my plog,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

Top Ten Reasons My Family Hates Me

Good day, Blogpals,

Okay, admit it. You thought T/T-M/M/L/E had blogged her last. Real life had finally gotten the best of me. Actually, real life has gotten the worst of me, and YOU, my friend-fams, have gotten the best of me! Read on. As the year comes to an end, I've decided to reflect on my life. I'm sharing my thoughts with you. Are you ready? Here are the top ten reasons my family hates me....


10. I forgot my great-nephew's names on my Christmas letter. That's right, I welcomed 3 new Bridwell clanbabies, but forgot the fourth: Drew Kirby, Kit's adorable bambino. I have offered to feature him prominently in next year's Christmas letter.

9. I get people into trouble without even trying. In my Christmas letter, I bragged about my daughter-in-law Megan setting up my printer. This led to her own mother wondering why she never did such things for her which led to Megan spending Christmas day setting up her own mother's printer and DVD..and well, you get the picture. I just never learn to keep my mouth shut.

8. I can't make decent Christmas cookies as you can see from "Mr. Snowman". Well, at least we did get a lot of laughs out of our attempts. Thank God for Teresa Foster who takes pity on the O'Connells throughout the year and provides us with properly constructed, perfectly baked sugar cookies while we burn batches while doing I don't know what at the kitchen table and not hearing the buzzer.

7. I have irrational fears of opening my front door or the garage door. I am nearly an agoraphobic once I get into my house. For one thing, it's been freezing cold here and everyone but me seems to think our outdoor cat deserves to come inside and warm up. The cat heartily agrees and tries to worm its way inside every time I open either door. Now, tell me, why did God give the creature a free fur coat?? For another, we had yet another wild animal episode last week with a possum getting into our garage because a certain person left the garage door open "just a bit" so the cat could get to her heating-pad, space heater-warmed bedstead. The man of the house resorted to Nancy's internet-fueled suggestions of throwing ammonia-soaked cotton balls at the critter which seemed to bring on another internet-supported condition -- a frozen state of shock (on the possum's part, that is). For the record, animal control doesn't consider possums in the garage an emergency, only possums in the house. So, now I'm afraid that a possum or a cat will attack me should I open any of my doors... You should see the recycling and garbage piling up at my door...

6. I forgot to turn on the oven Christmas Day and we ate 3 hours late...Yeah, this is a new one, even for me. I had to ply them with shrimp, crackers, cheese, beer, wine, whatever.

5. I fix food they hate. That's right. They all complained about having ham for Christmas and wanted lasagna instead.

4. I give them wastebaskets for Christmas. Isn't Cody (Molly's boyfriend) cute showing his off?

3. I can't use my new cell phone. If you get a text from me that reads "a...," it means, "Hi, how are you?" Just don't expect me to write back or to read what you write back. I don't have a clue, and Nancy is out of town. Bob and I have nearly resorted to cans and strings for our communication. (You young readers won't know what that means..)

2. I haven't mastered my new Kindle yet. Tim (the dear boy) patiently showed me how, but my success so far has been in turning it on, but having to ask Bob how to turn it off..

1. I blog instead of trying to improve myself. I could be reading my cell phone manual right now or perfecting my sugar cookies, but I am writing to you instead, dear friend-fams.


Hope you all have a happy new year! Now I expect you all to comment and tell me why you LOVE me!! Or even more reasons why you don't. I don't care, just say something.

Hamming it up,

I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth