On the Twenty-First Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Twenty-First Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

I go all limp and smiley when people get aggressive.

Sometimes I don't notice when situations are rocky.

I appear happy go lucky.

The above have kept me out of a lot of trouble.

I might maybe kinda sorta in a happy fairy sorta way be an instigator.

Who, me?

I plan ferociously.

I let it all go.

Yearly I attend the Mike Errico Holiday Show. Amazeballs.

Yearly I receive a Holiday Omen.

Last year I was unable to attend due to my short-lived Broadway show so a friend graciously gave me his broken omen.  Borrowed omen?  Broken omen?  Never again.

This year's omen is a Mead Wide Ruled Composition Book.

I cannot wait to see what we write.

Things look and feel much better today than they have in a while. And the world is still here.

Wayne LaPierre scares the crap out of me. Perhaps this is what the Mayans meant.

Rarely do I have just one thing go bad.  I have a shit pile.

It has winnowed down to a tiny poo pile.

Dear old friends offer dear perspective.

If I don't have something to say, I don't speak.

I recently played a character who said, "I am sorry you feel unloved and I will do everything I can to change it...except apologize for it.  I am tired of apologizing."

I understood this character.

On the Twentieth Day

On the Twentieth Day, TiZ names 20 reasons for reform in gun control and mental health policy...

Charlotte Bacon, Feb. 22, 2006

Daniel Barden, Sept. 25, 2005

Olivia Engel, July 18, 2006

Josephine Gay, Dec. 11, 2005

Ana M. Marquez-Greene, April 4, 2006

Dylan Hockley, March 8, 2006

Madeleine F. Hsu, July 10, 2006

Catherine V. Hubbard, June 8, 2006

Chase Kowalski, Oct. 31, 2005

Jesse Lewis, June 30, 2006

James Mattioli, March 22, 2006

Grace McDonnell, Nov. 4, 2005

Emilie Parker, May 12, 2006

Jack Pinto, May 6, 2006

Noah Pozner, Nov. 20, 2006

Caroline Previdi, Sept. 7, 2006

Jessica Rekos, May 10, 2006

Avielle Richman, Oct. 17, 2006

Benjamin Wheeler, Sept. 12, 2006

Allison N. Wyatt, July 3, 2006

On the Nineteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

The Christmas Tree is dressed.

I have had my own tree maybe six times in my own home.

I have beautiful ornaments.

I do not have the heart to cut down trees (plus Bax might pee on it), so I have a fakey.

A creature was stirring...it was a mouse.

I ran after it with a cast iron skillet.

I spend Tuesday evenings listening to online dharma talks with David Nichtern.

Nothing says Christmas like beautiful gluten-free scones from Robert's Random Writings. Thank you!!!

I don't think phone conversations should last more than ten minutes.

I own a ukelin.

I just found a YouTube video that explains how to play it and tune it and I'm gonna.

I've given away more books than many people have owned.

I think books are for sharing.

I do not have much but I have treasures and I love it when people ask to see them, DKA.

I bought a pair of thigh high books two years ago exclaiming, "I may be too old for these, but I want a pair before I die."

Boots I have too much of.

I'm not house proud, I'm a house moron. 

I'm working at it.

I find an unmade bed at this age tragic.

On the Eighteenth Day of BaXmas

On the Eighteenth Day of BaXmas, BaX reveals to you...

And I have a kong and a kong and a flat bunny and a handmade toy with my name on it (that My Human won't let me play with) and a muzzle for the tough days.

I think most everyone probably needs a muzzle for the tough days.  It's a doggy straightjacket.

My Human is having me blog again today because she said her soul left her body.  Something about human puppies dying last week.

They died near my Noah's Ark vacay getaway. 

I hope the pretty lady with the silver hair who lives there and who accidentally drops smoked salmon on the floor isn't on the floor of her closet.  If she is, I would like to go and kiss her.

My human is playing with a tree (What, is she me?) and yelping happy songs. 

She doesn't fool me.  Her soul's not there. 

I don't know what death is.

I do know I don't like puppies.

I growl at them and run away.

I also know I don't like guns.

They make big, loud banging sounds.

I especially don't like the ones that make LOTS of QUICK bangs.

When the banging happens, something stops.  And when the something stops, it rarely starts again.

I prefer somethings that move and breath and play and grow. Even puppies.

Unless you can promise me that humans will wear muzzles when they need them, then I don't think they should have so many guns. Especially the ones that make lots of quick bangs.

But what do I know?  I toilet dive.

Hopefully this tree thing will work with My Human and she will be back for The Nineteenth Day of Christ*&^%$.

On the Seventeenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Seventeenth Day of Christ*&^%$, BaX reveals to you...

Despite the fact I loved Bonnie and Lowell and the Human with the big brown eyes, I screamed for a couple of days straight because I missed my other family so much.

Then my intestines stopped working so good.

Then my skin got hotspots and deep in my ears got infected.

Then I tried to bite a couple of humans.

Then they NEUTERED ME! (I know it wasn't punishment.  I know they're just concerned about the dog population.  Me too.  How do you think I got here?)

Then the Human with the big brown eyes took me home and she became My Human and I became Her Dog.

She is not my mother.

She is my bitch.

She took me to obedience class.

I almost took her fingers off when we were trying to learn "down."

It took Second Human in Command (the wonderful, kind, German Human next door) to teach me that.

Now I do doggy push-ups.

Third Human in Command (the wonderful Human whose skin looks like my fur) taught me how to play good and hard.  We make a lot of racket.

I travel like a pro in planes and trains and buses and subways.

My car etiquette could be better.  I must remember dogs can't drive.  Dogs can't drive. Dogs can't...oh look...a squirrel.

I turn in circles to warn everyone I'm about to poop.

I have many possessions...a house, a hump bed, a little red carrier house, a little red jacket, a lambchop, a baby lambchop, a blue, a sockmonkey, a hedgehog, a rabbit, a bone, a bone, a bone, and My Human.

On the Sixteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Sixteenth Day of Christ*&^%$, BaX reveals to you...

My birthday is January 5th.

I will be 5.

I lived with my other family for almost four years
.They got me when I was too little.

They thought I was a chihuahua / poodle.

I am a shih tzu / poodle.

They loved me, but

The boys liked to "play" too hard with me.

My right front leg turns out funny.

The tip of my tail bends funny...it's broken.

The mom would let me get matted and then cut the mats out.

She cut through my ear.

It got infected.

The Humane Society took me in.

I especially loved Bonnie and Lowell.

My second day there, this human with big brown eyes and curly brown hair pet me through my cage.  She blew kisses at my infected ear.

On the Fifteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

I've never heard anyone make a compelling argument against better gun control.

My code for hangover is "I feel special."

I feel special.

I stopped drinking for many years because the special was sooooo special.

I still don't drink a lot.

I hate the day in New York where everyone dresses up like Santa, gets drunk and ruins my world.

Today is that day and I'm staying inside.

I'm terrible at telling jokes.

But I heard one yesterday that I liked and it's short and it's in writing so I may not screw it up too much. "Why doesn't Santa have any kids?  Because he only comes once a year...and it's down a chimney."  You're welcome.

It took a year and a half after the renovation of my apartment for me to hang anything on the walls.

And by me, I made my friend A do it because I didn't have the stomach to mar the now not so freshly done walls.

I have my front of house photos from Beauty and the Beast.

They now hang whimsically in my kitchen.

I am a Wendybird.

I'm trying very hard now to cultivate a life where I'm not flying around all the time.

On the Fourteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

I'm disappointed that you didn't notice that yesterday was the 13th Day of TiZmas, so I went back to ye olde Christ*&^%$.

I screw up with my dog a LOT.

My dog screws up with me a LOT.

We still love one another.

I think that's what people (and dogs) are supposed to do.  If they mean it, say they are sorry, work really hard at not screwing up again and make up. 

Enough with guns.

I don't care about your fucking right to bear arms.

I don't believe this is what anyone one meant when the Second Amendment was put into law.

"I'm sorry" cannot restore lives that are lost due to lack of gun control.

I don't trust or wish to know anyone who thinks they need a gun.

My heart is broken.  

I know this is only twelve and I don't give a flying rat's ass.

On the Thirteenth Day of TiZmas

On the Thirteenth Day of TiZmas, TiZ reveals to you...

I'm working on embracing change.

I do stretches every day now to keep the severely wonky neck headaches at bay.

I am an Official Volunteer Dogwalker at the Humane Society of New York.

Today is my Dad's birthday.

He died 7 1/2 year ago.

I ESPECIALLY suck at these holidays.

I got priced out of a much beloved internist as he didn't take my insurance.

I have an athletic pulse of 56 bpm.

I have an equally fab blood pressure of 100/70.

Because of a family history of high cholesterol, I have been fighting the battle to stay off anti-statins for years...cause everything else works SO DAMN WELL.

Fasting is not for me and makes me an incoherent moron.

I went to the dentist after ten years. (DON'T YELL AT ME. And do not try this at home.)

Still no cavities and a pain-free double wisdom tooth extraction.

On the Twelfth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

I think you guys are awesome for writing to Patsy Roberts.

There are some people I am friends with and hold dear for the fact they wrote cards to my Mom in the hospital as she died.

Mommy loved those cards.

She was in the hospital during my first two weeks of rehearsal for ON A CLEAR DAY.

Since I was showering in the dressing room at work in the morning, people thought I was doing the walk of shame.

In fact, I was commuting and did a bunch of overnights in the ICU and went straight to the rehearsal hall from Grand Central.

The barca lounger overnights were probably the beginning of a severely wonky neck.

The cobra during the Back Cage Tour did relieve some tension in my severely wonky neck.

I was in the emergency room 5 days prior to the Back Cage Tour because of a 4 day headache due to my severely wonky neck.

It took 1 emergency room trip, oodles of fantastic drugs, 4 chiropractic visits and an amazing massage from a Russian former Olympian in the hammer throw to get rid of the headache.

I didn't know I had a severely wonky neck.  I thought I was sporting a brain aneurism.

Two of the above specialists observed my neck and queried whether I'd been in a car accident.

On the Eleventh Day of Christ*&^%$

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

My Dead Person Corner is where I have totems and objet d'art of friends and family who are...well...dead.

The Buddha is there too.

I like to think of the Buddha as a friend.  And he HAS been dead for a while.  

I went on a Back Cage Tour at the Cincinnati Zoo.

I pet an elephant.

I rubbed the belly of Charlie the Penguin who liked it VERY much.  He got all flappy and giggly and everything.

I had a boa constrictor placed around my neck.

I do not like snakes.

I figured it was put around my neck for a reason.

I sent a Christmas card to Patsy Roberts.

I would like you to as well.*

*Take a moment and write a card to 87-year-old PATSY ROBERTS.

This sweet matriarch of Rockaway Beach, New York, saved thousands of cards she had received over the decades with the hope of reading them in her final hours, and then Hurricane

 Sandy came along and ruined them. “I was saving them to read when my time came,” she said when her son-in-law told her the cards had been destroyed by the storm surge. “I was saving them so I could read the cards and remember the people I love.”

Out of his own deep love for Roberts, her son-in-law, CRISTIAN DOBLES, is seeking to soften the loss by asking any and everyone of good will to write her a holiday card. He has posted this message on Facebook:

“Patsy Roberts, my mother in law, is the sweetest, most caring human being I know. A true angel on earth ... It doesn’t matter whether you know her or not. Just say something beautiful to her. My goal is to get 1,000 cards to her for Christmas. Please help me with this."

Aiding her voice to the plea, neighbor TARA STACKPOLE posted:

“Mrs. Roberts is the true matriarch of our block. She is the neighbor that prays for you, bakes for you, inquires about each family member, and always has a ready smile. At 87 she will put the neighbors trashcans away on her way home from daily Mass. She is the epitome of what a ‘neighbor’ should be and this block and our family are so blessed to know her.”

Roberts has written thousands of cards herself to family and friends over the years—on birthdays and special occasions, or if she heard of some great success. Sometimes just because she was thinking of them.

Help Cristian and Tara and all of Patsy's neighbors in Rockaway give her a Merry Christmas. Send a card today to:

Patsy Roberts
130-04 Rockaway Beach Boulevard
Belle Harbor, New York 11694

And pass it on to any good souls you know. 

On the Tenth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

Singing in a church choir reminded me of that strange, very insular competitiveness I had blissfully FORGOTTEN ABOUT.

I didn't tell them I'm a professional singer.

I still sight sing like a demon.

My feet are narrow---AA with AAAA heels.

I've had a lifelong fascination with poop.

Probably due to the fact I do not EXCEL at doody duty.

I recently learned if one pulls one's knees up as if one is in a squatting position, doody duty is easy peasy lemon squeezy.

My shoes serve as decoration on a ladder in my home.

For years in NYC I survived with only 1 1/2 closets.

I have a dead person corner.

On the Ninth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Ninth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you,

This is the first time I'll be singing in church in years.

I am an agnostic.

I may be an atheist.

The concept of GoD doesn't make too much sense to me now.

The concept of DoG makes much more sense.

I have a Jesus band-aid on my door.

I have no idea how it got there.

I have purchased two new pieces of furniture in my entire life.

I have purchased two used pieces of furniture in my entire life.

On the Eighth Day of Christ&^%*$

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

At times I may seem fancy but I am a townie at heart.

I went on a date recently with someone who snapped his fingers for the waitstaff's attention.  End of date.

I was invited to a society dinner.  The host told me he liked my kind of guest to sing for their supper.

I let him have it...

I may very well be among the working poor.

The realization of this did NOT make me zippy.

I'm repeating this for those who don't know:  I DO NOT DO HOLIDAYS WELL!

I am spending Christmas in my own home for the first time ever.

On the Seventh Day of Christ*&^%$

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

When I was the "go to girl" I named the entire event, "The Blind Leading the Pregnant."

My long-running Broadway show lasted only 4 months.

I was going to buy an apartment from the proceeds.

Instead I got a dog.

I did not name him Baxter.

The Human Society named him Baxter since there were too many Maxes there already.

He responds better to Bax or Baxie.

On the Sixth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

Never fear.  No one can be rougher on me than me.

I think I'm having hot flashes.

I think I'm having night sweats.

I'm not sure what the difference is.

Neither is awful.

I was once the "go to girl" for a friend who thought she was going into labor but wasn't sure what contractIONs* really felt like. 


*I originally wrote contracts.  Contracts?  Can you tell I had an important audition later on The Sixth Day of Christ*&^%$?**

**Put down the blog TiZ.  You are no longer safe.

On the Fifth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

Sometimes I feel like I have a hangover even when I haven't been drinking.

All it takes is a glass of wine for me to hangover.

All it takes is a drastic change in weather for me to hangover.

Too much sugar will make me hangover.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a bubble.  I am Bubble Girl.

On the Fourth Day of Christ*&^%$

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

My team won Charades.

My mother was right, I should NOT play games in public.

I rely on my dog to grease squeaky social wheels and sticky situations.

I guess that makes my dog my social lube.

On the Third Day of Christ*&^%$

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

I played Charades competitively at a benefit last night.

Because I sometimes write these a day or two in advance, I have NO idea how it turned out and I'm a little nervous.

My mother told me NEVER to play games in public.

On the Second Day of Christ*&^%$

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

I am terrible at Charades.

I am competitive at Charades.