On the 36th Day of Christ*&^%$

On the 36th Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

36 MORE things she's grateful for.

1. Surprise, inciteful and insightful card readings.

2. Lovely emergency rooms.

3. Lovely ER attendants, nurses, nurse practitioners and docs.

4. Buddy splints.

5. Chiropractic adjustments with a hug following.

6. Workmen's Comp.

7. Bouquets of roses.

8. Clothes pulled warm from the dryer.

9. Baby Ho-Hanna.

10. Surprise days off.

11. 47 1/2 hours straight of being non-existent.

12. Bathtubs.

13. A sweet bathroom mate who buys me pretty sleep inducing body wash to help scrape off insidious body make-up.

14. The ability to keep my eyes wide open.

15. Beautiful, caring, brilliant friends.

16. Getting direction.

17. Muscle relaxants.

18. MY MAN GODFREY.

19. Pool floats with room for a beer and a book.

20. Being the unknown interloper.

21. Sitting at the kids' table.

22. TaB...always TaB.

23. Candles.

24. DRESS TO KILL (sorry Eddie Iz...it puts me to sleep...in the best way).

25. Great, cheap Pad Thai.

26. No.

27. Nemeses...they're great lesson teachers.

28. A quiet house.

29. An understanding house.

30. The lack of dead animals in the side yard.

31. Cortizone cream.

32. Shelter porn.

33. Great hats.

34. Knee pads.

35. Invitations.

36. Corks floating in a toilet.

Lessons Learned

I didn't make myself clear on FaceBook. The Book of Face. Das Buch von Gesicht. Il libro di faccia.

Lack of clarity is not often a problem. Elusiveness? Yes. Clarity-free? Not usually a TiZ ZoNe.

My post was...TIZ is learning not to trust. Sad.

And people were worried. People told me to hang on. One thought it was miraculous I had gotten this damn old without learning this lesson.

I love my peeps.

It's not that I don't trust the world. I do. And I will continue to do do do...struth. Sorry K.

But I don't have to trust everyone.

What I did learn today is that if I place my trust in you and you hurt me emotionally OR physically or are selfish or mock me, well...it would be foolhardy and dangerous for me to trust you again.

So...sadly, I learned not to trust today. Not the universe. Not mankind. But a man...kinda...in the universe.

Maybe two...or three.

And that's okay...'cause there are a couple of billion scattered souls left for me to truss...I mean trust.

Blah de blah blah blog.

On the 35th Day of Christ*&^%$

On the 35th Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you 35 things she's pretty freakin' grateful for...<>

1. That a house with eight people can actually be quiet.

2. A little senior wisdom.

3. A Daylight Day of Rest...whatever THAT means.

4. Finding Larry late at night online when I'm having a rough one.

5. Bad Cabarnet.

6. A rogue Flexoral.

7. Sunshine.

8. 30 weeks of employment.

9. My ticket to see Eddie Izzard's first night in RACE.

10. Eight members of my family coming to see SWEENEY.

11. Long-AsS walks.

12. Foam rollers--to roll out quads, not hair.

13. A generally pretty positive attitude.

14. Learning to stay away from folks with AsSitude.

15. The ability to ride the shoot six times straight and the wisdom to never EVER do that again.

16. Rogue Flexoral AND a bad cabernet.

17. The sweet and sassy responses to my late blogue post. Thank you, BlEaders...

18. Good action on this keyboard since I'm pretty sure I have a sprained pinky. (It's really swollen and hurts but it bends. That's a sprain and not a break, right? Oy.)

19. Ice.

20. Kindness of colleagues letting me use their bathtub as I only have a shower.

21. Streaming Netflix.

22. Closet space galore.

23. Orthopaedic flip flops.

24. Skecher ShapeUps.

25. My suitcase's arrival after two loooooooooong weeks.

26. Free washer and dryer.

27. Yoga bridge pose.

28. Friends cleaning my mountain aerie.

29. Mountains.

30. The ability to work on Nana's feet. EIghty-six year olds just can't reach 'em.

31. Beautiful friends who wish to learn and create and try and fail and get right back up again.

32. My AsS. It's cute. Thanks Skecher ShapeUps!

33. A pretty great poker face.

34. My disdain for lies...my own and anyone else's.

35. JoY.

I'm Writing...

...'cause I am lonely. Really lonely. I'm working on a show with a LOT of people in it. More people than I've worked with in a year (discounting the 75 orphans in ANNIE).

Too many people. I find it virtually impossible to connect.

I'm living in a house with seven other people. All very respectful of space. But so many people. I've never lived with so many. Until I was five years old there were six others in the house. And for a while we all shared one bathroom. ONE TOILET. That was a treat.

Too many people. I'm finding it virtually impossible to connect.

And I go on ever lengthening walks.

And these people (who are really lovely) seem to think I'm weird. And don't mind telling me so. I'm playing the Beggar Woman for Chrissake. Get a grip. What am I supposed to say in response? "You're stupid? Fat?" Speaking of which, my feelings of not belonging were certainly not helped by someone in rehearsal yesterday declaring that I was having an easier time lying on the frigid floor playing dead because I had more padding.

I am 46 years old, 5' 6" and weigh 125 pounds. Bite my padded ass.

And I go on ever lengthening walks.

This play has loss as a major theme and I guess I'm feeling it right now. Strongly. Plus I'm pretty darn sure I absolutely suck.

All of this is exacerbated by the fact I haven't had a day off in three and a half weeks. No alone days for Tizzy. And for all my yearning for an alone day...

I'm tired of walking alone.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 30

Subject: cleo in cleveland, clowning and clubbing

To: **Everybody**

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 06:50 PM 2/22/99

hello loves:

i depart tomorrow for cleveland (of all places) to play cleo (if you only understood the irony of that) in “most happy fella” at the great lakes theater. i am overjoyed, as this is my first real “character” role in years. i don’t have to be pretty at all . . . and they’re actually letting me dance . . . yippeeee!

yummies for my tummy and snail mail can be sent to me

c/o great lakes theater

1919 state street, suite 2203

cleveland, oh 44115

will miss you all desperately . . . love to all of you and my treasured family.

xoxo

christinane

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 29

Subject: Re: log-on, log-off, linguistic lothario (i like that better)

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 02:40 PM 2/21/99

My avidly amorous alliterating Aphrodite (that’s me.e. to you),

Dilatory delay of dialogue: The last few days have been nutty. The kids were off from school and rebelling against babysitters, so I tried to spend as much time at home with them as possible. I left this message unsent and half-composed, and only just now had a chance to finish it. Now and then life is a little overwhelming for the single parent.

Passion for parallel people: You mean you’ve become a single parent?

Pizza party pandemonium: Last night, I held a pizza and beer party for the first year Ph.D. students. There are about 20 people in the class, and all but one showed up. I bought seven pizzas and three cases of beer. The pizzas disappeared within 10 minutes, and the beer only lasted about four hours. I just don’t think these kids are taking their studies seriously enough.

Passion for parallel people: You mean you’ve become an economist?

Hedging high hurdles: I wondered when we’d give up on the impossible alliteration of “al” and make do with “a”—I thought we might have to resort to foreign languages, where I am at a definite disadvantage.

Monica’s morose mire: She has done worse: ages 15 through 18 were total nightmare city. But she’s been doing much better for a couple of years, and I had hoped that the worst was behind us. I just don’t understand it: I’ve talked to her about this kind of thing, and I’ve told her not to get caught.

OOB oops: OK, I checked it out. Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary defines OOB as off-off-broadway (but says it’s a noun, so I guess there’s no such thing as an “OOB performance”).

Still court-ing danger,

oxoxox

Be-boppin’ Be-Douglas

SEALED WITH A CLICK - Entry 28

Subject: Friday’s frankly fragmentary frivolity

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 03:08 PM 2/21/99

One, two, three, four, can you say a little more: tease!

SEALED WITH A CLICK - Entry 27

Subject: *do not open until friday*

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 12:39 PM 2/19/99

from your abandoned alliterative angel

i am in connecticut with nonapap (that’s rod and ginny tislead, my parents, to you) until saturday, and therefore unattainable via e.e.-mail . . .

. . . so in response to your unasked questions:

numero uno: that’s you

two’s company: with me

three’s a crowd: most definitely

fore!: play!

(i plead the) fifth: do i need to answer that one?

next time i e.e. i could very well be clowning and clubbing it in cleveland . . . blaaagh!

hope court was fun . . .

xoxo

meandering mellifluous me.e.

The First Day of School

Wasn't bad at all. Not at ALL. I knew a buttload of the other kids. I know the teacher. I've had her before. The hall monitor and I are friends. The music teacher ROCKS! I'm one of the older kids in the class, so I feel...well...a bit like a senior. I brought treats for everyone so I don't think anyone will beat the crap out of me in the cloak room.

Only drawback? I had to start school late. So did some of the other kids, so I guess it's okay. And it's another sleep away school. Not as posh as the last one, but a MUCH better bed. Not too hard, not too soft, just right. It's like they picked it out especially for me.

Major plus? I've studied the curriculum before. It's being presented in a complete new way, though, so that's the challenge. And I've lost my original notes.

That...and it's been 17 years.

Brilliant classmates. Brilliant. Even the popular kids are nice and cool.

Lucky, I am.

Memorial Day

So many fallen this week. So many. I'm not speaking of soldiers, although I do honor them and their sacrifices.

Two lovely people of my circle in five days. One I barely knew, but knew the beautiful influence he had on others. One I knew quite well...a generous, smart, ridiculously funny fixture in the New York theater scene who always showed up when I needed him to.

Showing up is important.

So when I got a text from an ex at 1:30 in the morning saying, "At cancer hospital. Quite cheery," I went a little batshit insane, and emailed and texted back, saying "What? Why? Who? It's too early your time--something must be terribly wrong."

Turns out he was helping a friend out who was having a laserectomy. "Not to worry. And the coffee is excellent."

And he took his sweet time letting me know that.

And I called him a manipulative twat.

And when I truly awoke five hours later I apologized. It was just bad timing for his random cancer text since NY is Deathville.

Showing up is important.