year end recollections

Things I learned in 2004:

Water and cat litter makes cement.
I'm still afraid of heights.
What a blog was...
Some HTML...
I'm more Republican than I ever dreamed I was.
I really don't want another big wedding ordeal.
Communication is the most important thing in maintaining a relationship.
I still don't like the Tellie Tubbies.
It only takes 45 seconds to blow up an egg in my microwave.

Things I probably won't be doing in 2005:

Bungie jumping
Sky diving
Running for a political office
Climbing Mt. Everest
Wearing holiday themed sweaters


Things I might do?:

Start working out again
Learn to play the Piano
Have Amanda teach me Chinese
Win the lottery. Whaaaat? It could happen!
Get another motorcycle.
Clean the garage.


Resolutions:
Teach my children to see, value, and comprehend their blessings
Volunteer more
Clean my closet and haul the clothes to Goodwill.
Have the house painted inside.
Get motivated even if it means prescription drugs.

New Years Eve! Party time?

So.....What's everyone doing tonight? Do tell! If you want, you can make up something to make your social life sound much better than it might actually be because hey...i'll never know the difference will I? Let me know what's going on around the world tonight...I'd just love to know what i'm missing!

The part of Suzanne will be played today by...uh...

Hi…my name is Shar…um…Stephanie…no, no…that’s not it,…Jessi,…no wait, give me a minute… it’ll come to me….Rachael? oh never mind, it’s not really important for now. They assure me my memory will return in a few days, once the shock has subsided and the anxiety medication wears off.

I’m told I was found huddled in the fetal position of this big living room, rocking back and forth making strange noises like buh buh buh buh bu buh bu . I’m not sure how I got there, only there’s this strange recollection of brightly colored lights, colored papers… and shiny things…yes lots of shiny things!

Perhaps I died only to have abruptly returned unto this strange abode?
Perhaps.

Oh look…there’s a shiny thing! Isn’t it lovely?

I am confided to this one room here on the couch, and my bedroom, as I’m told the other rooms are not yet meant for human observation. Something about small children…and little plastic toys?…. (scratches her neck and reaches for another valium)

Every now and then these very small people come to me with odd statements like:
“He called me snotty face!”
Or
“She’s making me bored”
“Now I can see out of your face”
“wooohaaaa, there’s a little fly thingie”

I can’t be sure, but I almost believe they’re trying to communicate with me, to which I answer…buh buh buh buh buh buh.

This seems to satisfy their inquisitiveness as they almost always leave right away.

I think I’ll take a little nap now.
Think happy thoughts right?
Buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh

Airlines lose bags, Suzanne goes missing, news to follow:

Suzanne is missing:
Due to over-calculations by both household accounting service as well as third party family organizations, production of Christmas presents exceeded our expectations by over 400% . Efforts are now underway to dig through the piles of empty boxes and discarded rapping paper to find Suzanne. Volunteers are asked to refrain from showing up until her next of Kin are notified. Earlier today, the cat found a small purple earring, which was worn by either Suzanne, or someone who also likes purple things . This concerns the recovery effort as we are no longer sure how many people may be buried under the Christmas mess.

Faint sounds can be heard coming from the living room near the tree. Suzanne was last seen near the tree so efforts to find her are concentrated there. It was reported earlier that she might be in the guest bathroom under the disposed cardboard boxes when a faint “help me” could be heard. Digging efforts turned up a small battery powered doll emitting a childlike “feed me”. The doll was several feet shorter than the description we have of Suzanne, and so the search cintinues.

Others in the house remember seeing Suzanne when the presents were being opened, but in the furry of opening what turned out to be far more presents than this house was rated for, she was lost in the aftermath. Christmas marshals have cited the household for massing almost double the presents than the safety recommendations list for one tree.

The children, who are still playing with toys, surface for occasional bowls of cereal, and promise to aid in the search when they loose interest in the new toys next week. News at Eleven.

Enjoy the holidays! 

Happy Holidays everyone!!

Yes....I know I promised Santa I wouldn't neglect my blog any more, and yes I know...
I haven't written in a week.

What act of neglect would be complete without a various and sundry assortment of excuses? I've got mine a plenty.

1. I haven't been in town. We made a pilgrimage to the Great White North for a week.
I froze. I'm frozen. I'm still frozen.

2. upon arriving home, there was that 10 tons of laundry with my name on it.

3. I've got the family coming over in 3 hours. I've still got to finish cooking, I'm sitting in a house that needs cleaning, and there are three more presents that need wrapping.

I'm expecting a lump of coal. Life will soon be back to normal however, and the writings will resume.

In the meantime...Happy Holidays to everyone and Have a Merry Merry Christmas!!!

Damn contemporary bullshit architecture!

A holiday funny for my friends in the architecture world. Something to think about huh?  

Ladies, can we talk?

If you’re of the MALE persuasion, might I suggest that you go here to read about golf, or push a pin in my guest map to let me know your where abouts? I promise the following will not interest you unless perhaps you are married to a female over the age of 35, who mysteriously wakes up a million times throughout the night only to disappear into the bathroom and reappear in different pajamas. I have a hunch the following story was not only the last thing you had in mind when you surfed on to my blog, but will be more information than you really cared to know in the first place.
Trust me.
Golf is good.

Now with all the guys out of the room, let’s talk about what I like to call sfitzing. You know what I mean? When you go to sleep and wake up in the middle of the night drenched in your own perspiration, sopping wet from head to toe? Could this be the dreaded onset of menopause?
I like to go to bed each night freshly showered and perfumed. My favorite pajamas are usually of the silky variety, a gown from Victoria’s Secret perhaps, with spaghetti straps and matching robe.

This is how it starts anyway.
Then…
Sleep descends and within a few hours, unbeknownst to me, I start to sfitz.

(To Sfitz: adj; lightly perspire, dainty sweat caused by nervousness, or unknown medical condition.)

Water begins to seep out of every pore in my body. I’m not talking about a little dampness on the forehead, or in my hairline, yet those things are most definitely effected. I’m talking about a full blown, bring-your-water-wings-and-snorkel-to-bed drenching that covers every inch of me. Nothing is left dry.
Nothing.
Including my covers and my mattress.
So I have to get up and take my wet nightgown off, wipe down with a towel, and change into a gown this time of a nice cotton blend.

Upon return, I find my side of the bed completely wet, as if someone had just poured a pitcher of water into my covers. It’s 2:30 in the morning so I reluctantly crawl back in and eventually fall back to sleep. A few hours later, I’m awakened once again by the shivering of my own body, as a result of the tiny ice crystals forming from the air conditioner and my damp covers. The cotton nightgown is now drenched and once again, I’m off to the bathroom to dry off and change pajamas. For a brief moment I consider wrapping up in a big beach towel, but opt for a nighty in an absorbent terrycloth blend instead.
Help!
Am I melting?
What’s up with that?
Of course on the up note, Christmas shopping for my husband is a breeze this year! He's getting a squeegie... maybe a rubber raft and an inner tube.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa…

Let me explain.

It’s not that I meant to ignore my blog for the last week, it’s just that I’ve been so busy. First little man was sick, then I was sick, then my best friend got married and
my oh my, there was all that Christmas shopping that had to be done! Lest we forget the Christmas party at my friends house Friday night, and the 4th grade party at Little Man’s school that needed planning and all the mothers I had to call to bring in goodies….The list just goes on and on and I’ve been too busy with a multitude of other things to even consider being naughty or nice. I’m hoping you’ll be able to overlook my blog neglect based on what I feel is our common bond in the “making a list” thing… even though I almost never remember to check mine twice or where I put it last.

I know there was that whole Bad Fairy incident on Halloween, but I assure you it was all in the spirit of the Holiday and in good fun, so you can hardly hold that against me.

It wouldn’t be fair of you to count the whiskey sours I drank at my friends
wedding reception either because that was a very stressful and emotional day for all of us. I only drank them because it was really cold outside and my head was hurting so bad that I needed something to warm me up and take the edge off. Don’t you worry Santa, I’ve learned my lesson. I learned it on the cold porcelain bathroom floor several hours later and in the half empty bottle of Ibruprofin that’s left on my kitchen counter. I’ve learned food is critical when drinking alcohol, and that one should limit one’s consumption proportional to one’s body weight.

I’ll give you that, on occasion I can be a tad naughty with the good fairy, but it’s nothing you or Mrs. Claus haven’t discussed under the mistletoe yourselves I bet, therefore technically I’m excused from that one too.

So you see Santa, I really am worthy of a gift or two, and I promise to be better at posting on my blog and to leave your favorite cookies out on Christmas Eve, if you promise not to leave me a lump of coal.
Love Suzanne

My Baby's sick....

I have to interrupt my daily posting tonight on account of little man is sick and I’m needed on the couch to snuggle, rub his head, and give lots of Mommie sympathy.

Please don’t run away just yet, there’s other stuff to read in the archives or sign in on my guest map and let me know where in the world you are! Such a simple thing, but it makes me so happy!

Say goodnight Suzanne!

A Pet's Blog

Hey Look! It's me over THERE.

drip. drip.

I’ve got two suspicious looking puddles in my house.

Normally, you would think I’d be searching for the nearest animal to blame, only these puddles are of a different nature.

These puddles are on my ceiling.

Ceiling puddles are rarely a good thing are they?

At first I thought it was a leak coming from the upstairs bathroom, only I couldn’t find any evidence of leakage in the obvious places. Then I heard the sound of dripping water coming from the air conditioner vent, which is coincidentally close by to the ceiling puddles downstairs.

There’s an air conditioner guy here right now investigating the source of the water and I’m just hoping I don’t have to buy a new one.

Maybe Santa will bring me one. I’ve been good….really I have.
Whaaaaat?

I have!

Work, Work, Work

Sharon did a cool scrollie thing on her blog about all her past jobs, and then was kind enough to send me the script for how to make a scroll box. It’s been one of those weekends where time was of the essence and I simply ran out of it, so for the moment I’m just going to do another post, minus the scrollie thing. Be sure to stop by and send Sharon some love.

These are the jobs i've had during my lifetime, excluding the weekend face painting, and ummm...that one incident i'd rather not talk about.
I’ve also ranked the impact these jobs have had on my life and the excitement level they provided on a scale of 1 to 5. 5 having the most impact.


My very first job was at a mall. I worked in a department store and sold men’s clothing.
This involved selling shirts, neck ties and underwear and measuring hemlines for the alterations department. Minimum wage was $3.25, we had manual cash registers and had to hand write sales tickets before putting the order into a machine that resembled an old organ grinder minus the monkey that danced around and collected tips. I learned that very few men can coordinate and many are colorblind.
Impact and Excitement: 2

During the summer of my first year in college, I worked at another department store. This time in the lamp department. We progressed to automatic cash registers only I didn’t get to use mine very often on account of the electronics department was next door, which drew in customers much quicker than lampshades. I tried my best to divert attention to myself and the dimmer switches by attempting to ploy shoppers with humor and wit. Unfortunately the lampshade on the head thing had already been done before, and the Solid Gold dancers were playing on all 32 color televisions.
I learned to get out of the way of stampeding men vying to watch women in little sparkly outfits.
Impact and Excitement: 1

Next came the waitress and bartending job while in college. It paid $2.10 and hour plus tips, and the tips were pretty good considering it was a college campus bar in a college town, in a dry county to say the least. I learned that a person can cure themselves of ever eating ranch dressing after making it by the bucketfuls. Gallon of buttermilk, gallon of mayo,…spices,…day after day URP! I also learned a lot of cool drinking games, and that most people look really stupid when they’re drunk.
Impact and Excitement: 3

When the food and gluttony business became more than I could stomach I got myself certified to teach various fitness classes and got a job at a health club. I taught men’s and women’s aerobics, water aerobics and weight training. My connections with the college led to more teaching, and eventually I became the aerobics instructor for the University’s football, baseball and tennis teams, as well as for the local high school football team. This was always fun, because there was never a shortage of laughter and good music with a group of college athletes doing aerobics. I learned that too much jumping on inappropriate surfaces causes shin splints and a great deal of pain to an instructor who is teaching far too many classes a week.
Impact and Excitement: 3

After graduation, I moved to Atlanta under the employment of the Atlanta Sports Medicine Clinic. There I worked in post operative rehabilitation as a technician to a Physical Therapist. Patients were athletes, of both the professional and weekend variety and had suffered sport related injuries or surgery. I enjoyed this job because at the time, this particular facility was cutting edge and taught me a lot about the medical profession. I got to use the skills I learned in college and oddly enough…helped me to decide that I didn’t want to continue in this field at all!
Impact and Excitement:4

Next stop. New York City and a job as an International Flight Attendant. I would be inclined to say that half of who I am today as a person is a direct result of this job. I took the opportunity to use my employee flight privileges and saw the world. I am a firm believer that travel should be a requirement of all educational programs, even in high school. Nothing opens your eyes quite like seeing other peoples, cultures and traditions, and to see your own country through other's eyes. I will never forget some of the sights and people I met along the way…like the little homeless children sleeping on the streets of Brazil, or the hordes of people begging for food in Haiti. I saw the Berlin wall come down and keep a piece of it on my mantle to this day. Not to mention that living in New York City is a learning experience in itself. You know the old cliché, "if you can make it there you'll make it anywhere"! So true...so true.
Impact and excitement: 5

Marriage and pregnancy helped me to end my flight career. I looked for a job on the ground and found it at Nike’s European distribution center. I didn’t speak Dutch at the time, but knew that if I could just get in the door they would see that I was American, and capable of being a viable employee, in an American company. I went to my interview with an English-Dutch dictionary, and a boatload of determination. I got the job and worked there for 5 years in various rolls starting with picking shoe orders and ending in Human Resources. I can’t begin to tell you everything I learned working there, but it was a fabulous company with fabulous benefits and growth opportunities. I learned light years worth of professional knowledge, and gained invaluable skills in leadership and business. I rank it right up there with one of the best careers I’ve ever had.
Impact and Excitement: 5


With the end of my marriage, I left Europe and did what most freshly divorced, single mommies do…I ran home to Mommy and Daddy. Being back in the States offered a whole new world of job opportunities because as luck would have it… I speak English, and there seems to be a demand for that here. I found my current job, and work in the marketing and sales department for a large distribution company as a product rep. I love my job, it pays well, and offers a great deal of flexibility for the working mother type.
Impact and Excitement: 3

Most importantly, this list wouldn't be complete without listing the most important job I have. I manage to do it full time on top of my full time job, and always work weekends and nights, even when I’m sick. I’m a Mom first and foremost. Responsibilities include, cooking, nursing, teaching, counseling, judge, jury, law enforcement, janitorial services, volunteering, friend, listener, chauffeur, banker, Santa Clause, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, librarian, story teller, handyman, fixer of broken toys, dryer of tears, laundry expert, stain remover, financial advisor, room mother, party planner, fashion coordinator….the list goes on and on. I’ve learned there’s nothing more important than your own child’s happiness and safety, and there’s nothing better than seeing my child’s sweet sleeping face each night as I go to tuck him in. My heart melts when I see him hurt or struggling, and I know I’d walk the ends of the earth to protect him. From the moment I met him, as a wrinkly pointed head little raison, my whole world changed. My life has purpose, meaning and magnitude.
Impact and Excitement: 10

Hark hear them yell!

I went to the mall tonight.

I’m not sure exactly what it was I was thinking when I made that brilliant decision, as it’s a Saturday and the stores were packed with hoards of people, screaming children in tow, but hey… I made a decision.

The boys had gone to a wrestling match at the civic center, and I decided that what I needed to do was to get out of the house and do some Christmas shopping.

The air was crisp, the holiday music aplenty, and I had made a list of everything I wanted to purchase, organized by person, store and department. Sounded like a fool proof plan to me so off I went? What I didn’t count on was the horrendous pre Christmas Saturday night traffic or the umpteen hundred people that migrate here from the outer ruraldom of Savannah. The city population spikes each weekend as the surrounding dwellers visit the city to shop, eat out and party.

Parking was a challenge in itself, because the novelty of the new mall Target hasn’t quite subsided just yet and the parking lot was buzzing. Me in my holiday cheer, patiently waited for the perfect spot to open, and with lightning speed…dashed into a slot before the little old man in the grey Seville made it around the corner. Muwaaaaah!

The stores were equally hurried as the highways were and each shopper eeewwed and aaahhhed over the dazzling display of purchasable wares. Around every corner was some exhausted looking mother pushing a buggy containing at least two children, screaming in that way only small children know how to do. They did not want to be in that buggy by God! How do I know this?…because that’s what they were screaming in decibels loud enough for the deaf to hear.

“I don’t wanna be in this buggy!”

“I wanna get down!”

“I wanna walk by myself!”

I just smiled at them in a knowingly fashion as I too have been in their very same shoes on numerous non holiday occasions.

Speaking of shoes. Don’t wear your new boots to the mall when you plan on doing a lot of walking. That was my first mistake of the evening, and I’m currently soaking them in last years foot spa Christmas present. My feet…not my new boots.

The second mistake I made was to leave my list on the kitchen table.
Come on now,… You didn’t really think I’d make it to the mall with a list did you?

To my pleasant surprise, and despite my short term memory deficiency, I managed to remember some of the items I’d written down and actually knocked out a couple of gifts.

I hope Santa was watching tonight, and took notice of how nice I was being. There was plenty of naughty going around, but I managed not to slug a single person.

Tis the season to be jolly!

There’s 5 loads of laundry to be done and a mountain of ironing. Let’s not forget the standard Saturday morning cleaning that needs doing in the bathrooms, or the general straightening of the remaining living quarters.

I know… I know…you’re asking yourself… “How can one person have such a glamorous life while all the rest of us are off doing such mundane things like visiting parks, Christmas shopping, and attending parties with family and friends?”

Just don’t hate me because my life is so rich. Jealousy is never a pretty shade of green and does nothing for your complexion.

I’ll write more tonight once I’m done polishing my mean step mother’s shoes. They’ll all be at the ball, so I’ll have plenty of time to compose a more appropriate post then.

crooked face 

Sticks and Stones

Have you ever had a conversation with someone who wasn’t as skilled in the art of ‘tact’ as you would prefer, or as gentle in their verbal deliveries while offering constructive criticism or a personal observation?

I’ll admit up front that I’m of the sensitive nature, but every now and again, someone will say something that I find difficult to shake. Quite frankly, this is more likely due to the fact that I’m of the slightly vain nature as well, and if their comments are regarding my appearance…all the longer they will linger.

Their ill prepared and thoughtless statements enter my brain through the auditory canal, permeating the sensitive sector of grey matter that controls confidence and self esteem. The words reverberate, banging around inside of my mind until they are wedged tightly into my thought processes.

While I was at the Dentist yesterday, my dentist casually mentioned “You know Suzanne, not only is your jaw a bit crooked, but it throws off the whole symmetry of your face! in fact….your face is crooked , and look…so are your ears. Have you noticed that before?”

“Well…” I said slowly crouching down into the dental chair, … “I guess my sunglasses do hang a tad lower on this side of my nose now that you mention it, but I just figured it was because I only paid a dollar for them at the Dollar General. I… I hadn’t really noticed it at all until you just pointed it out Doc….um…thanks,…for, uh,
bringing it to my attention.”

I mean, dang! I realize he is a professional and probably making reference to the symmetry of my jaw alignment, but now, thanks to his lack of tact, I’ve got a new item to add to my list of insecurities. Yipee!!!

He further tried to explain how everything is connected in anatomy…
The jaw bone’s connected to the…neck bone.
The neck bone’s connected to the….shoulder bone.
The shoulder bone’s connected to the….next bone.

When one thing is out of alignment, everything is out of alignment.

I’m convinced I walked in their perfectly straight but when I left, I was limping and dragging my foot behind me.

Sticks and stones may break my bones….but sometimes, I swear words can haunt me.

Sniff, Snort, Smile

If I sound a bit loopy today it’s because my van is emitting some sort of noxious fumes directly from the engine into the interior cabin where I live and breath. The mechanic couldn’t find anything wrong during his careful examination of course, but after a few minutes of driving, I feel intoxicated, and just a tad nauseous from inhaling whatever it is that’s seeping through the vents.

I had to face my dentist this morning regarding the loss of my dental retainer. I half expected a flogging or something, maybe even a nasty lecture on my irresponsible treatment of such an expensive orthotic at the minimum…but as I spewed forth excuses to redeem myself, I couldn’t help but notice the pupils of his eyes were slowly changing form, taking shape into something that looked similar to this: $ $.

Turns out he’s an undying optimist, who sees opportunity where I only see despair. Thank goodness I was already snockered up on auto fumes when he explained his $40,000 solution because it helped me to justify my explosive laughter at the mere idea of spending that much money on my teeth… just before I passed out and hit the floor!

His idea was to rebuild my entire mouth out of beautiful porcelain teeth that fit together perfectly, stopping my jaw from popping in and out of socket.

My idea was to have him hit me in the jaw with a hammer, so that with any luck the jaw would pop back in to socket. I figure…what… about $10.99 for a good hammer?

After some fancy negotiating skills on my part, we came to a still expensive but more formidable compromise. I’ll only be out another $12 grand when it’s all said and done and phase II of “When Suzanne Smiles” will begin earlier than originally scheduled to avoid having to remake another appliance at full price.

Isn’t that wonderful? (heads back to the van for another sniff of toxic fumes)

He’s going to grind my natural teeth into a new shape, forming a new biting surface which allows them to fit together better, and then fancy them up with some porcelain. I can hardly wait, as grinding on my teeth sounds soooo…..oh what’s the word I’m looking for…

enjoyable?

Not.

If you need me,... I'll be in the garage.

Question

Moogie posted an interesting question on her blog about whether or not it was a good idea to post comments about your spouses on our blogs. I had a similar thought on posting pics of our kids and whether or not it was safe to do so? What do you guys think?

Is it safe to post pictures of our children on the blog for the whole world to see, or should we leave them off just in case there's a perv lurking in the midst?

I'm in trouble now.

Can a person survive solely on pumpkin pie?

It’s all I’ve been eating for the last two days, and I was just wondering.

I’ve taken to eating sweets because that’s what I crave when I’m upset. I still haven’t found my $4,500 dental orthotic and now I’m dreading having to tell my dentist. I feel like a little girl who’s about to get in trouble with the teacher for losing her homework or something. Sheesh.

We even went so far as to dig through all the garbage just in case it got accidentally thrown out, and I don’t need to tell you how fun THAT was!

I bet it went down the garbage disposal.

More pie please.

I’m thankful that’s over.

I’ve cooked and eaten more in one day than I do all week long! It’s hard to breath when you’ve consumed that much food, so I’ve taken to writing my blog from bed this morning, as the horizontal position aids my oxygen consumption.

Good news is that I have enough food left over to feed everyone for the next week. I plan to use this to my advantage, not cook, and only serve left overs for the next twelve meals. What… you don’t like Turkey for breakfast? I’m sorry, try the stuffing instead.

I might have to take a few laps around the block today in order to button my pants back up, but more than likely, that won’t happen. You see the temperature dropped last night into the low 50’s which dictates hot chocolate, sweat pants and a blankie instead of exercise in the cold out of doors.

Unfortunately, I have one major issue that needs addressing today, and it’s not a pleasant one to say the least. Do you remember my trip to the dentist and the orthotic that they created for a mere $4500? Read here. Well…

It’s gone.

Disappeared.

Poof!

Vanished into thin air.

I can only imagine that I took it out and laid it down somewhere in a gluttonous Thanksgiving eating frenzy, only I have no actually recollection of doing this. Nor can I locate it anywhere in the usual spots.

What this means is that I will be searching through all the wadded napkins and tinfoil balls from yesterdays garbage. What fun!

You don’t suppose I ate it do you?

I’m calling it quits for tonight. Accomplished quite a bit:

Pumpkin pie... Baked.
Apple pie…. Baked.
Sweet potato soufflé …ready to go.
Turkey…purchased, and ready to pick up from the fryer in the morning.
Three gallons (don’t ask) of butternut squash soup….completed and resting for all flavors to meld.

One tired chef. That’s me.

My toes are really cold.
I think I’ll go blow the hairdryer on them.
Whaaaaatt? …..... You’ve never done that?

Uh…...neither have I.

Look…....over there…......something shiny!

warm is good

Can I just say that I’m absolutely tickled that it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I ran around today in a tank top? I realize that most folks prefer cold holidays, complete with white fluffy snow and all, but not this sister, no mam. (flashes back to winters in New York city)

I remember one Thanksgiving in particular,…the year was probably 1989? I was a first year Flight Attendant still required to carry a beeper in order to be available within a moments notice to fly where ever the company needed me to be. A senior flight attendant decided to call in sick (most likely a ploy to stay home for the holiday), which meant a poor merciless rookie like myself would be awoken from a deep sleep around 3:00 a.m. to the sound of a ringing telephone, and greeted by a gruff voice.

Sleepy disoriented FA: Hello?

Gruff voice: FA Bell?

Sleepy disoriented FA: Uh…maybe?

Gruff voice: this is crew schedule

Sleepy disoriented FA: thinks to herself, *damn* and attempts to disguise voice

Gruff voice: We need you for a trip departing JFK at 0700. Three day SDQ position 2

(thats a trip to the Dominican Repulic working jumpseat #2).

Sleepy disoriented FA: Are you sure you really want me to do this? I took a Benadryl before I went to bed and I was really comfy when you called. Are you aware of how cold it is outside?

Gruff voice: dead silence. (they never had a sense of humor)

I looked out the window. Oh goodie. It was snowing outside. The ground was covered in a good three inches of fresh snow that luckily hadn’t turned to sludge yet from the morning sun and traffic. Long story short, the next few hours consisted of me crawling out of my warm bed at 3:00 in the morning..., dressing myself in the required navy uniform with three inch pumps, grabbing my wheelies to carry my matching navy suitcase, attempting to pack for a three day trip, sleepy and let’s not forget drugged on antihistimines. If I remember correctly, I think I packed mismatched socks, a walkman, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear… wait… that’s another holiday. Anyways…

If you’re not familiar with living in NYC, it’s a good two hours to the airport when you rely on public transportation. You can expect something like this:

First go down the 34 story elevator from your apartment to the cold outside, where you will walk three blocks in the dark, snow and wind to the nearest subway station. You will occasionally look back and marvel at the trail your wheelies leave in the snow, and wonder if some drunken homeless hunter will follow the estranged animal tracks to shoot it. In the subway you will be required to schlepp your own luggage up and down 40 flights of stairs, as this is not the south Scarlett, and you will be carrying your own luggage thank you very much.

You will encounter strange individuals on your journey who sing, shake cans, and on occasion might even growl at you, as you walk by pretending not to notice the smell of urine or the wad of bubblegum that has just attached itself to the bottom of your shoe.

One twenty minute train ride, and you get to do the whole process again, as your journey to Grand Central includes a transfer to the S train. It’s a good idea to stay awake on the subway, despite the early hour and your drug induced grogginess, as the guy next to you is eyeballing your cream cheese bagel you picked up between transfers.

Arriving at Grand Central, you will climb additional flights of stairs returning you to the earth’s surface from the dank underground of the NYC transit system, where you will then hurry and wait for the hour long express bus to transport you to JFK. The time is probably 5:30 a.m. by now.

Board the bus making sure to select a window seat to use as a head support cushioned by your jacket. This is your opportunity to eat your bagel and grab a quick nap, because the next time this bus will slow down will be as it rolls through the airport terminals just slow enough for you to jump off without twisting your ankle. It helps to fling your luggage out the door first rather than dragging your wheelies behind you, as you will inevitably become tangled in the folding bus doors and piss the driver off as you block traffic trying to free your wheelies and yourself from the hinges. Once at the office (aka airport), sign yourself in the required hour early, change into your extra panty hose that are now snagged and running amok down your leg and try to remember if you packed a bathing suit under your winter sweaters.

Although the trips were adventurous once they left the frozen tundra of New York,….the logistics of getting to and from work in the snow, were anything but pleasant for me. This southern girl will be content in her dark colored shorts from here on out, and you'll never hear me singing the song. I'm dreaming of a white....Christmas.

Grab the sunscreen. Sunshine is a good thing!

I like this one. Artist on bottom corner 

it's not easy being us

Ahhh. I’m finally sitting down after a very busy weekend of attending weddings, house cleaning and doing enough laundry to bury a small army. I’m feeling rather uppity too because, I spent the afternoon completely preparing myself and am now ready to tackle Thanksgiving this year! (This is your cue to comment on how fabulously proactive and organized I am ok)?

I’ve only done Thanksgiving one other time at my house, but I can’t really claim credit on it’s success because my sister helped with everything. Before that, I managed to slide by ten years with no Thanksgiving Holiday of course in Europe, or having to cook a single Turkey. This year I’m attempting to go it alone, and I need to be organized. My table décor is planned, the menu is complete, and my grocery lists are written and hanging on the refrigerator. Yes life is good.

I’ve noticed a lot of people doing the quizzes from quizella lately. After answering a few related questions, your responses are tabulated and subsequently you are placed in a category of some sort. For instance: What type of blogger are you? What Disney Princess are you? Which spice are you most like? Which Starwars character are you? They’re harmless I suppose and briefly entertaining if you don’t mind being labeled as an innate object.

I’ve taken a few tests that I did find interesting though. One in particular plotted brain hemisphere dominance and you can take it here if you like.

For those of you who know me, it should come to no surprise that my test result showed my brain dominance plotted dead center, indicating that neither my right or left hemisphere is dominant over the other. Who Knew?

Here’s me taking the test:

Test: When you walk into a theater, classroom or auditorium, (assuming there are no other influential factors) which side do you prefer. Right or left.

Me: the middle

Test: When taking a test, which style of questions do you prefer?
Objective (true/false, multiple choice, matching)
Subjective (summary)

Me: Both

Test: Do you prefer to learn by written instructions or by auditory/visual explanations?
Me: Both, what's the subject?

Test: Do you have hunches? Yes No
Me: Sometimes

Test: When you have hunches, do you follow them? Yes No
Me: Sometimes. It depends.

It is never easy for me to just choose one of the options I’m offered. I would have to know more about the circumstances surrounding the situation and debate which option is the most viable at that particular moment. My choice could change based on the information at hand, and until such time that I am equipped with all pertaining facts,….I’m simply not comfortable with committing to just one answer.

My test result shows that I’m a well rounded individual with the ability to use logical reasoning with intuitive guidance. I would beg to differ on the theory that the two hemispheres of my brain are in fact, constantly arguing with each other. The average person wouldn’t survive 30 seconds inside my mind….the noise in here is maddening!

I’ve taken to naming my two brain hemispheres for reference purposes only and not because i'm schizophrenic by any means. There’s Sarena: She’s the artsy, creative, feeling side of my brain that flits around in wonderland, cry’s at weddings, decorates the house and shops too much. She's moody, emotional, and wants everyone to play nice. Fairy's and mermaids are her favorite, and thinks all people should be appreciative of her efforts at taking care of them. Flowers are welcome as are an ample supply of hugs.

Then there’s Adira: The more logical side that slaps Sarena upside the head for being sappy, or needy, and makes her pay the bills. She likes black leather, motorcycles and is rather bossy if you ask me. Adira can do it all herself, and thinks it's a sign of weakness to ask for help. You won't catch her crying, and if you're looking to impress her, you'd best be well educated, articulate, and a take charge kind of person.

The two never agree on anything and constantly bicker back and forth until at any given moment it feels as if my brain is about to implode!

With all of that racket it's virtually impossible for me as an innocent bystander, to make any decisions at all… especially those involving a choice.

My test result shows I’d make an excellent Judge, or mediator based on my ability to see conflicting sides of an issue, allowing me to make fair and honest decisions based on a neutral outlook. I am inclined to think that the pressure to eventually have to choose one side, would ultimately drive me into a dark corner somewhere sputtering smoke from my ears.

It’s not easy being me.

You mean us.

Uh... right…us. It’s not easy being us.

shut up and quit whining.

sniff sniff.

For the new site?  

I hate snakes

I was walking in this house right? It was all cluttered with clothes and magazines strewn haphazardly on the floor. I curiously moved things aside as I waded through the mess, trying to identify a noise that was coming somewhere from the bottom of a huge pile of stuffed animals. Layer after layer, I kicked aside stuffed teddy bears and t-shirts until all of the sudden something sinister moved causing the remaining items to tumble over and part the mess. It was a HUGE BOA CONSTRICTOR snake slithering directly towards me! Startled, I tried to quickly back away but found myself trapped by a wall and a bunch of other items restricting my movement. The snake lunged towards me at such a high speed, that I screamed and used my foot to kick the snake in the head, once….twice until I screamed and sat straight up in the bed.

Now that was an odd dream! Any idea what the heck my subconscious is trying to tell me here? I’m no dream interrupter, but that can’t possibly be a good thing. Only goes to reinforce my opinion that snake skin shoes are bad bad bad. That boa looked mighty pissed at something if you ask me, and he was going after my feet!

Unfortunately, my cat, who was lovingly snuggled on my feet at the time, took the brunt of my snake kicking dream. Poor thing looked a bit dazed and confused when I punted him across the room for no apparent reason. Luckily for me he has memory issues and seems to have forgotten about the incident already.

If you’re in the possession of a good dream book, let me know what this means. It could be some kind of sign to buy lottery tickets, and if that’s the case,…I’m all over it.

In other news….I still can’t figure out where my archives went, nor where my blogroll links are to my favorite blogs. The butterfly seems to aggravate people using certain browsers, and others can’t even see it. I’ll leave it a while until I get sick of it, or enough hate mail comes in to warrant it’s removal…which ever comes first.

Here’s my daily reads by some very talented bloggers. If you still want more reading, check them out and tell them I sent you.

The Impulsive Buy
Washington's Pearl
The Zero Boss
Metro Dad
Adventures of a Domestic Engineer
Woulda Coulda Shoulda
The Old Buddin House Journal

There's a few more but I need to get their web addresses to link you:

Has anyone seen my archives?

I started this blog because I wanted to write

I debated with myself whether or not a simple web journal would appease the literary gods inside my head. But, as luck would have it, they’re itty bitty gods, and it doesn’t take much to please them.

I couldn’t ignore the logistics of it all either. Would I have enough to say? (*falls out of her chair laughing at that notion*) Would people care to read my tidbits of opinion, my impressions or quirky observations? It’s a bit unnerving at first to go public so to speak, but so far… no one has called me stupid or thrown the first tomato. I think I’ll pat myself on the head and consider this a good sign to forge on.

I have to admit that I really appreciate when someone leaves a comment for the obvious reasons. It lets me know someone is reading and cared enough to send some love my way. This is not only motivating, but validates my suspicions that I need constant reinforcement, coupled with daily hugs and kisses.

I choose to believe those impartial to my writings, politely surf on by and keep their indifference to themselves. I’d just get my feelings all hurt if they did otherwise, and most likely would get ugly. It’s best they leave well enough alone.

It’s also made me realize yet another thing about myself. That I’ve become, at least for the moment, totally obsessed with trying to learn more about web design. (I was running out of things to obsess about). I hit the occasional snag, but for the most part it’s been quite interesting. For instance, here's a snag: Where are my archives and why aren’t they posting anymore? And what about that polite little butterfly that’s supposed to flit around on your screen while you read? It isn’t working on my net view, but is on the template preview. I’ll have to ask you not to swat at it, but if you could… let me know if you at least see it…. That’d be great. Thanks for stopping in today,

The mounting pile of bills on my desk is dictating a need for increased cash flow, so I'm off to work.

just 10 more minutes

Today started out like every other day. The alarm went off, I had a quick 10 second conversation in my head debating whether or not I should sleep another 30 minutes, decided that was a great idea, hit the snooze and rolled over.

This rash decision made while under the influence of some left over bubblegum flavored children’s Benadryl syrup, (we junkies are never particular) always turns out to be a bad one, because it inevitably leads to a rushed frenzy of “oh no, we’re going to be late” and a not so happy game of “where’s my keys?”, as we race out the door.

You’d think I’d catch on after a while, and just get up when the alarm rings? Nope, not me. I’ll keep hitting that snooze trying to decide if I can shower, fix my hair and makeup, get dressed, fix my son something to eat, pack his lunch and get us to school on time….all in 20 minutes. I’ve never once said my decision making skills were all that great, and I’m destined to try this experiment a few more hundred times before I can draw any conclusions.

I’ve tried setting the alarm for 30 minutes earlier than when I need to get up hoping that I’ll be satisfied with that additional 30 minutes of sleep…. and maybe… just maybe, get up on time. Instead, when the alarm goes off, my internal conversation goes more like… “oh goodie, now I get to sleep an extra hour! Woohoo! I feel like I’ve won the lottery.
I’ll keep adjusting the wake time on the clock until eventually it’s ringing before I ever go to bed.

I did some preparatory work for next years business plan, and tried to catch up on my customer notes. A quick $200 trip to the grocery store and the next thing I know it’s time to pick my son back up from school. I swear I was just there 5 minutes ago, but I’ve got to leave now or I’ll be late for that too.

The air is wonderfully “fall-ish” and I’m going to open the windows for some fresh air. It’s not that I find Tidy Cats kitty litter unpleasant to smell mind you, it’s just that sometimes the fresh air can do me good. Provided it’s not saturated with tree and flower pollen of course. I’ll come back home, finish up some work, and maybe read a few of my favorite blogs. If i'm lucky, I'll be able to go to sleep before it's time to get up.
Enjoy your day

Santa is a woman

I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe that Santa is actually a she.
Think about it, Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy,nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off.

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of time warp until 3:00 pm on December 24th, when they with amazing calm,go for a last minute shopping spree. Once at the mall they always seem surprised to find Ronco products, socket winch sets and mood rings left on the shelves. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree,... still in the bag.

Another problem for a he: How would Santa be getting around? There would be no reindeer, because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped to the rear bumper
of the sleigh, amid wide eyed desperate claims that buck season had been extended.
Even if the male Santa did have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems, because he would inevitably get lost in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.

Add to this fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every crooked Christmas tree to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90 degree angle.

Still need more reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man?
Men can't pack a bag.
Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
Men would feel their masculinity was threatened, having to be seen with all those elves.
Men don't answer their mail.
Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in jest, as anything remotely resembling a "bowl full of jelly".

Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men.
Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definitely a guy.
Cupid flies around carrying weapons and shooting people in the a##.
Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to talk taxes and point fingers.

Men for sure.
But Santa? I don't know?

taken from an email today, author unknown

Thanks

Ahhhh…..Sunday. The kind of cool crisp afternoon where you throw on your sweat pants and curl up with a good book, …or a good laptop, depending on the mood.

I really appreciate all of the nice comments everyone left on my blog regarding my “100” list. Making lists has always been one of my stronger skills I must say. I make lists all the time as a matter of fact and not only have I mastered the art of making them,…. but am especially skilled at misplacing them or leaving them on the kitchen table. Grocery lists rarely make it to the grocery store, and more than likely come to their demise at the bottom of my purse only to be found later when it's too late and i've already forgotton the milk and the dishwasher soap.

Anyway, I feel all warm and fuzzy knowing that a few people actually do read my blog. I would like to throw out a special special thanks thanks to my sister sister for responding multiple multiple times times. Don’t worry worry, I’m not laughing laughing AT you you so much as I’m laughing laughing WITH you you! (you’ll get the hang of this technology thing in due time I promise, just hang in there). You and Hannah will be arguing over whose turn it is on the computer before you know it.

I’ve been thinking about getting a new look for my blog, maybe something along the lines of a mermaid theme because
a) they’re cool, and
b) I’ve been collecting graphics and ideas for a long time.

It will take me some time to piece it all together into something user friendly and on our own server, because I’m learning just exactly how I’m supposed to do that as I go. That and I’ve misplaced the list to where I’ve saved all the graphics.
Hmmmm.
Enough for tonight.

I Haven't done that yet...but give me time

I’ve been surfing blogs for about a month now, and am impressed, bored, entertained, enthralled, ticked and encouraged all on a daily basis. There are some writers that I now read rather regularly and others that irk me to no end, usually those soliciting something like ipods or genealogy readings. Had I wanted to know how to get a free ipod or who my distant relatives were I would have just surfed Google for Pete’s sake! I can only assume that if any of my unknown deceased relatives (God rest their souls) would have cared to know me, they would have made provisions while they were alive and kicking.

There’s so much wonderful talent out there, and such interesting people! Folks from all walks of life and gender,… pouring their thoughts out for everyone to read and eventually use against them in a court of law or some sick internet scandal.

There are recognizable trends in blogging for sure…ideas that catch on in the community and before you know it, everybody’s partaking. This in itself is not a bad thing so directly. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery after all and a little flattery never hurt anyone that I’m aware of. In fact I know several people that you can flatter into a big mushy puddle of gratitude right before your very eyes. I shamelessly admit that I fall head first into this category. The nicer you are to me, the more back flips I’ll perform in your honor. No really, just try me.

Being the persuadable kind that I am, I too have succumbed to the trendy crowd on numerous occasion and I suspect blogging will pose no difference. I plan to write one of those “100 things” posts in the very near future so check back in and see how I did. I’ll try to put a new twist on it, just to spice things up…but when it’s all said and done, the concept was there way before I came along. Consider it a compliment, flattery at it’s finest if you will… and a tribute to the original creator, whomever and where ever you may be.

I must be a reptile.

Let’s think about it a minute. I’m cold. A-L-W-A-Y-S C-O-L-D! I’m cold at any given moment and seeking some source of warmth. You’ll almost never catch me without socks on because my feet are always freezing. I’ve found that if my feet are cold, I’m cold everywhere... so I keep a stock pile of white crew socks and slippers for warming my tootsies. I found these awesome microwavable socks at the drugstore that stay hot for about 30 minutes at a time. I swear they are the best thing since sliced bread but rate about a "0" on the attractiveness scale.

My house has an assortment of chenille throw blankets scattered around the couches and beds which I find handy to slither under while reading or watching television. I love coming home at the end of the day and crawling under the blankets of my soft bed. It’s my favorite part of being home.

I love the way the sun feels when it shines on my skin. The sensation can lull me to sleep in seconds but don’t worry…I don’t sunbathe as a rule because I’m not fond of leathery skin. Leathery skin reminds me of snakeskin handbags and shoes, which in turn, give me the willies. According to my Chinese horoscope I was born in the year of the snake. I have no idea if this has any relevance to my cold natured-ness or my aversion to reptilian accessories but it’s pretty darn coincidental if you ask me.

Most humans find the cooler temperatures pleasant, setting their home and car thermostats to 70. That’s parka weather for me guys! I keep mine set around 80. When the majority of people in a room start complaining that it’s getting stuffy…I’m finally defrosting and feeling rather comfortable. One would think that living in the south would be ideal for us snake sorts, and I’m inclined to say that it is…only there is one small catch 22.

Air conditioning.

It’s 102 degrees outside and being the fashion conscious monger that I am, wear the corresponding summer attire, a tank top…cotton skirt, or some little linen frock. Then I step inside any given office building, shopping mall, or grocery store, and the temperature is set to ice burg. It then becomes necessary to throw on a sweater and spend the next hour shivering in my cute little ankle strapped sandals.

Eventually I go back outside to my car which has now escalated high enough in internal temperature to bake a loaf of bread, so I take off my sweater. This little song and dance goes on throughout my daily chores and assorted appointments. Sweater on, sweater off, sweater on, sweater off. Hot, cold, hot, cold, which inevitably leads to a head cold, head cold! I suppose it’s a small price to pay considering the alternative of shoveling snow and scraping icy windows. I’ve done that too my friends and let’s just say it’s what drove me out of Europe like a snake from Ireland.

Then comes the winter. Miserably cold outside, so naturally I take to layering my silk long johns accordingly. Come inside and what does everyone do, but complain that they’re hot and want to turn the darn heater off! This annoys me because I’m usually frozen solid by this point and would rather crank the heater high enough to defrost my frigid extremities.

How is it that everyone’s internal temperatures vary to such extremes?
I’m fighting an instinctual urge right this very moment to go look for a sunlamp and a big rock to lay on. I guess I’ll go make a cup of hot tea instead and read some blogs.

Steppin out

I really should get up and cook some dinner. It’s almost 5:30, I’ve been reading for a good hour, and any respectable mother would at this point, get up and prepare a Sunday night meal. I probably should do some ironing too, but you don’t see me having any of that either do you? I think I’ve just been having one of those post weekend, lazy Sunday afternoons, that involve nothing more than the necessary minimum.

Perhaps I’m pouting. I’m not sure, but I think my gaggle of readers have abandoned me for some younger more energetic and racy blogs. They say it eventually happens to the best of us. Our stories age and wrinkle with time…, and the topics just don’t have the same perk they once had. I find myself getting jealous over the fact that the gags and gaggettes don’t comment like they once did. I can’t remember the last time a reader sent me flowers…although, there was that oral-b brush up from ‘The Impulsive Buy’ blog.

Ok, come to think of it? I’ve never gotten flowers from ANY of you, but consider the seed planted from this post forward.

More than likely I’m just bushed after a busy yesterday, what with all the cooking and preparations for the bridal shower,… and then of course the party itself. When the shower was over I had to somehow muster the strength to transform my grumpy step sister self into Cinderella by dawning a long formal dress in order to attend a Shriner’s Ball. I needed to get happy and sweet but I felt more like a grumpy pumpkin.

Isn’t it amazing how a beautiful dress can make you feel when you normally have an otherwise home centered social life? It’s nice to get all gussied up once in a while and have some place fancy to go. You feel like a million bucks, you walk a little taller, and you step a bit more elegant. (Only in my case I’m actually just stepping a bit more carefully as I never quite mastered the art of walking in three inch stilettos as gracefully as I should have).

I tend to hug the walls as I walk into the room, so as to have something to grab if the ankle starts to give causing me to trip like a goose. I figure I’ll either catch myself on the wall, or knock myself out … one of the two. You can’t be embarrassed if you’re unconscious so it’s a win win solution either way. I’m sure my finishing school teacher still has nightmares of me to this day…god bless her patient soul.

As in traditional Cinderella fashion, I was home by midnight. Unfortunately the house still needed cleaning, the laundry still needing doing, and I’ve no little mice to do it for me out of pitty.

There’s always tomorrow.

Fancy frosting

I’m lacking inspiration to write today. Mostly because I’ve got a million other things on my mind like what I’m going to serve at this bridal shower I’m having Saturday and what’s left on my to-do list. Mini spinach quiches, crab dip, puff pastry with cheese, fruit, wine, sushi, spring rolls, assorted veggies, and of course there’s the cake. Have I forgotten anything?

The cake has been a treasure hunt in itself, as trying to find one that doesn’t cost $150 or that doesn’t look like the circus has landed has been difficult. Apparently I have the proverbial champagne taste on a beer budget and was going for a bit of sophistication….at the Kroger’s. I suppose that’s where I went wrong huh?

The baker suggested using her wedding’s color scheme, but stared blankly at me when I told him they were peridot and orchid. Blink. Blink.

I decided to decorate the cake myself, to suit my sense of creativity as well as my pocket book. He looked relieved, but trying to get him to understand that I would just be ordering a cake iced in white….no colors…no curly ribbons…no sea shells,…no pink plastic umbrellas, no doves or wedding bells….just white icing, was the next hurdle. He couldn’t for the life of him, understand why I wouldn’t want multicolored cascading icing florettes from top to bottom? We finally agreed to an order, then I was off to find a florist who could make a live floral topper for me. Doesn’t any one watch Martha Stewart any more?

My next challenge is how to clip the leaf garland around the perimeter of my glass table. Glass is slippery and everything I try is sliding off causing the garland to fall. Thank goodness I started early instead of waiting until my guests were arriving to discover this.

Changing the subject totally, I would like to tell you about this awesome shiatsu massaging chair I just got, that right now at this very moment is giving me the backrub of the century. If you’ve never had a professional massage you really should consider it. Go treat yourself to some pampering. it’s worth the sixty bucks. But if the idea of stripping down and having a complete stranger rub oil all over you sounds a bit to uncomfortable, (and I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t) the Therapist Select Shiatsu chair from Homedics is the bomb!

It’s dinner time, and while staying put in this chair sounds soooo appealing… my little shark is circling. My Mommy hat awaits.

Today the stage is set for success

I awoke at 5:00 a.m. to some crunching sounds emanating from the foot of my bed. It was the cat with his daily sacrificial offering …this time a plastic mouse he had captured during the night, and brought to me with great pride and joy.

My mother bought him a stocking full of catnip flavored creatures last year for Christmas and they have been his favorite toys ever since. I keep them in an empty flower pot in the living room, (partly because it’s neat and tidy, and partly because I can’t grow a real flower to save my soul) and each night he gets them out as if he were hunting real green mice and little purple sheep. When morning arrives, there are always one or two of them left arranged in a pattern at my feet as a sign of his devotion and unconditional love. (Ok, it might just be the daily bribe to insure sufficient food is left in the bowl, but being the goddess type, I prefer to think of it as an offering).

Anyhow, we turned on the T.V. to see who might be the next leader of the free and United States of America, but as usual, the media was still playing their best game of “Let’s Take a Wild Guess”. It all depended on which television station I tuned in as to who that actually was, so in typical Suzanne fashion, I disgustedly turned it off until they can get their act together and come up with some real news.

Showering and transformation came next, and went off without a hitch. My son was awake? Check. Getting ready for school? Check. I made his lunch, and wrote a note to his teacher describing how it was my fault he didn’t do his homework, because I was late coming in from Augusta last night and didn’t find the note explaining the assignment until this morning…yada yada, and assuring her we would do it tonight.

We made it to school on time, and now here I sit ready to start the day of work. My 2005 business plan is due Thursday and I’m going to try and finish it today. Unless of course I can think of some interesting way to procrastinate the assignment until the very last minute, I will try to hammer it out and call it good.

But before I did that I had to go check the mail. I never know what important bit of information might be there needing my immediate attention so off I went. As humor would have it, I received a letter for participating in a contest held by a blog called The Impulsive buy. If you haven’t read it go check it out at www.theimpulsivebuy.com They rate a different product each day, and usually make me laugh which is always a good thing in my book. It seems I was one of the lucky winners of an Oral B mint flavored Brush Up which was sent to me in a congratulatory card all the way from Hawaii. How clever.

So you see? Not only is my day is set for success, but also for minty fresh breath. I’d better get busy.

I forgot that last night was actually Halloween

“How’dya do that dummy?”, is your immediate thought right?

Homeowner’s associations from the various neighborhoods took a vote and decided to do the trick or treat thing on Saturday the 30th instead, due to the 31st falling on a Sunday. So for all practical purposes and in my mind,... Saturday it was!

Homeowner’s associations, if you’re not familiar, can dictate a multitude of rules and regulations for it’s residents. For example, that you must keep your garage door closed except while driving in and out, what color you can or can not paint your house, which side of the street to park your car, which hurricane shutters are approved for use, which trees can or cannot be cut down, which fencing is acceptable, where the kids can and cannot play outside, what stay at home employment opportunities are permitted, and on what days you can water your lawn, etc. etc.

They print these rules out in a regulations and bylaws document for all families living in the neighborhood to read and commit to memory. The idea behind this is to prevent your neighbors from parking trailers, unused home appliances or plastic deer in their front yard thus lowering your property value.

With that kind of authority at their disposal, does it surprise you that they would change a national holiday for their convenience?

Being the law abiding citizen that I am, I complied and took the kids Saturday night. Gzeesh… I’m such a conformist. It worked out for the best really, because that left Sunday to sort candy, pilferage through the ones I like (mainly skittles) and do some last minute homework in preparation for the coming week.

There we were at the dinner table when the doorbell rang. “Wonder who that could be?” I thought to myself, only to be bombarded with TRICK OR TREAT upon opening the door. Two little fairies and a ninja turtle stuck out half empty pumpkin buckets. I wasn’t prepared with any candy to dole out because obviously I had forgotten (duh) it was Halloween. I nervously reached in my pocket for some spare change. Nothing there either. Dang.

I tried to distract the three little rebels by telling them how I admired them for doing things their way instead of the conformist way. How I hoped they would grow up to become the leaders of their chosen fields…maybe even politicians who stood up for what they believed to be right, instead of cowing to the lobbyist whims of corrupt business men.

They were not impressed, being as they were about 4 or 5 years old, and just wanted candy. They we’re looking a little aggravated with me for not producing when my son whipped out the bowl containing his candy from the night before and offered it to them with strict instructions to only take three pieces each. This seemed to satisfy the group and off they went to their parents who waited at the foot of the driveway.
Another sticky situation successfully diverted.

I’ve taken down my Halloween decorations in preparation for the next event this coming Saturday. A friend and I are giving a bridal shower to our other amiga who will be the first of us to take the plunge, again, and remarry.

Let the decorating begin!

must...have...food!

Somebody fix the cat a cheeseburger will ya?

Alright! I can’t take it any more! You win, all diets are off. Feed yourself into oblivion dude, because I need some sleep for crying out loud!

My cat is driving me into a state of exhaustion. Ever since I took away his automatic feeder, and started portioning out his dinner into equal rations twice a day, he’s lost his cotton pickin mind!

I first started noticing the strange daze in his eyes and odd behavior during the day. He typically follows me everywhere I go, stopping when I stop, to lay on his back feet straight up in the air like a satiated relative at Thanksgiving. As of late however, he’s taken to tangling himself in my ankles, while I’m walking none the less, to the point of tripping me in my stride.

Then there’s the endless pacing and stalking while we sleep. I’m awakened three and four times a night by loud bangs and crashing sounds coming from the kitchen.

(It’s important that you keep a visual in your mind for the next part of this story, as to the mental and physical condition of my cat. He’s the indoor version, litter box trained, no front claws, no back claws, fixed before puberty, overweight, lazy, lethargic, and sweet as a snuggle bunny. He’s a lap cap by definition preferring to lay at my feet or in my lap while I work, type, sleep, exercise, cook, read, put make up on, brush my teeth, do yoga, do laundry…pretty much anything. He’s afraid of doorbells, unusual sounds, male voices, the wind, flashlights, car rides, plants and basically any new object that comes into the house. He’s never been outside to do anything at all and perfectly fine with that. He wears a purple diamond studded collar that has a tiny jingle bell and our phone number on it just in case he ever gets outside and lost, God forbid.)

Then the unthinkable happened. We came home from our Halloween party, and Rockie was no where to be seen. I searched the entire house, to no avail and no cat. Fear and panic washed over me as I realized he had made a break for it probably while we loaded the car with party food and costume accessories. My naive sheltered house kitty, was lost outside in the great unknown. It was around midnight, dark, and my cat is black…. outside….lost…lots of trees and bushes. Needles and haystacks came to mind, as did cars and the numerous neighborhood bully tomcats that watch him jealously through the kitchen window.

I grabbed a flashlight and swore not to return without the cat. I panicked like a mother with a lost child. I guess hunger and some instinctual catlike behavior drove him outside to hunt for something to eat. There would be no sleeping until we found him.

I did. Two hours later, on the side of the house, hiding under some bushes and scared to death. He smelled like dirt instead of cat shampoo, and looked very relieved to see me. I was torn between hugging him and smacking his bottom.

The final straw though, came even later during my eventual much needed slumber. I guess he just figured Geez lady…what’s it going to take? I was apparently too stupid to notice that he was still hungry and it called for desperate measures. He climbed up on my nightstand next to the bed, and ever so calculating…knocked the glass of ice water over and on to my head. You can imagine what that was like to wake up to, along with the sound of the dropping glass!

His auto feeder is filled to the brim now. Ants be damned. I’m armed with raid, and plan to sleep a lot better tonight.

We successfully managed to mortify our children with one song and dance routine!

The Bad Fairy

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

I’ve got a random malfunction

It seems the random quote generator on the bottom of my blog is pulling a Miss. Jackson.

It’s failing to provide the satirical quote as it once did, while you surf the many pages of this blog, and has chosen instead to malfunction. According to the 15 paragraphs of script it took on the template it should be working just fine. Nothing has changed in the text that could cause it to cease producing. It’s just stopped. (Looks like a job for the “good fairy” )

Come to think of it…my alarm malfunctioned this morning too! Well maybe it was really me who malfunctioned by turning the alarm off, rolling over and going back to sleep. Either way, we overslept and were a few minutes late to school.

By the time I realized I had overslept, it was 7:30. That’s 15 minutes to shower myself, have breakfast, dress my son as a sorcerer for his Halloween party, and drive to school. Needless to say, I left the house with wet hair, and a hungry child, who regardless of those minor details, looked stunning in his finest wizardry. (We have our priorities)

I’ll get some work done until about 1:30 at which time I will go up to the school to set up for the party. With that said…. I’ll stop here and get to work.

so much to do...so little time

Tonight will be a busy night. I’ve got to decorate a pumpkin, make fruit kabobs and get assorted party favors ready for my son’s Halloween classroom party tomorrow. That’s in addition to the usual drills of homework, bath, dinner, assorted animal pamperings and finding the time to write another blog entry that will wow and thrill my gaggle of readers.

I’m not sure how many readers it takes to make up a real gaggle, but this is my blog thank you very much, and I get to make up the rules and vocabulary as I see fit. So for all three of you who visit my site on a regular basis….you’re it. If you’ve just surfed in from Blog Explosion, you’re 30 seconds should be done about now, and you’ll be relieved to know that you can click the next button and earn your credits just for showing up.

Tomorrow I am going to a Halloween costume party at a friend house. I’ll be going as the bad fairy, (I’ve got some deeply suppressed desire to wear black wings and flame stockings)
If I ever manage to get the “Hello program” to work for me, I’ll be sure to show you the photo documentation of my costume.
I’m stopping here for now. I’ve got wings to paint, and red flames that still need to be added to my costume. Please come back again, I enjoy your comments so much!

They call it temporomandibular/muscle dysfunction.

When you walk into my dentist's office, you are personally greeted by the friendly, color coordinated office staff by name and your favorite non alcoholic beverage. They have already memorized you're personal information, based on a profile you gave during your first encounter. (What kind of music you like to listen to, what you like to drink while you're waiting, what room temperature suits you most comfortably). They are amazing I must admit and unsurpassed by any other Dentist's staff i've ever had the pleasure of drooling on.

I won't say these little extras are free, because i'm sure the cost is burried somewhere in the astronomical bills I pay at each appointment, but never the less they are pleasant and add to the total experience.

The office is modern and equipped with todays most progressive and technologically advanced dental gizmos available. Life size posters of model perfect people smile at you from every wall, their gleaming white teeth and dazzling smiles beckon you forward with a promise of the same.

Due to the dysfunctional nature of my rebellious temporomandibular muscle, I begin each appointment with a one hour surface electromyography session. Electrodes not unlike the ones used by some fitness fanatics are strapped to my jaws and trapezoid muscles. I am then asked if I would like to hear some Garth Brooks or maybe some Yo Yo Ma on a walkman while I allow the pulsating electric shocks to fatique my muscles into submission. I opt instead to watch the 36 inch plasma screen television that hangs overhead... and a warm blankie. There I lay comfortably in an arm chair recliner while my face and shoulders twitch and contort at two second intervals for the following hour.

This electrically induced exercise is designed to beat my clinched jaw muscles into a totally relaxed state at which time data can be gathered and recorded on my chart. Somehow through the twitching, I manage to fall asleep.

The next hour consists of the fitting of my new orthopedic jaw repositioning appliance. It's primary function is to coax the various muscles into a new and improved position, allowing for a harmonious, smoothly functioning chewing system.

The cost of this little puppy is $4500.

At that price I believe it should not only help me to chew harmoniously, but it should stir fry my vegetables, puree my potatoes, and fry up some chicken if you ask me. Unfortunately it does nothing of the sort and behaves more like a wad of chewing gum stuck to my bottom teeth.

Luckily, my speech doesn't seem to be too affected by its presence, other than perhaps a slight slur that sounds awfully similar to me after a few margaritas. They assure me though, that I will get used to it with time, if I promise to wear it 24 hours a day. They also assure me that the red circular rashlike reaction i'm having to the elctrode pad adhesive is only temporary, and that NO, I don't really look like i've just been attacked by a giant octopus.

I'll return every few weeks for the next three months for more shock treatments and orthotic adjustments. Then we start phase II of 'when Suzanna smiles'.

I can hardly wait to see what phase II involves, but i'm pretty sure I overheard the dentist say something about his new Leer Jet payment.

I'd better get to work and start saving now.

I've been served.

There's quite a buzz in the blogosphere of late, regarding the National Novel Writing Month and NaNoWriMo contest in which participants are supposed to write a novel in 30 days. The challenge? Starting at midnight on November 1, begin writing your novel. Write like crazy until midnight on November 30th or until you have at least 50,000 words, whichever comes first.

I've been given the challenge. I've been 'served'

Sure I wrote columns in my high school and College papers, but i've always wanted to be published. I mean REALLY published, with my own table of shiny hard backed books for sale at Barnes and Nobles at $29.99 a pop. It's a pipe dream, with one small problem. One little snag if you will, a relatively significant issue I suppose and one needing explaining. I discussed it in my very first post of this blog entitled... To Blog or Not to Blog... in fact It's why I started writing this blog in the first place.

I-don't -know -what- to -write -about? I just can't decide.
I love to write. I love the combination of words and sentences coming together in a rhythmic pattern to express poetry or stories, but have no earthly idea what I could possibly say to fill 300 pages of a 50,000 word novel? That would involve me making a decision on what to write. A commitment to address one particular subject. And you know me and making decisions. It's like oil and water.

I seem to be more of the editorial type,...the columnist who pops off a wisecrack in 10 paragraphs or less, and then moves on to the next subject.
.

I'm still deciding what to write. Anybody got a quarter I can toss?

Sing me a song

Today is my birthday!

The physiological clock of any given female member in my family was programmed generations ago to stop tabulating once we reached the tender age of 30. What this means is that my sister, who is 10 years older than me, is 30. My mother (who looks marvelous I might add), is also 30. My Grandmother? Yeah, she’s 30 too. We’re ALL 30, feeling marvelous and loving every minute of it!

After a while, you eventually just forget how old you are chronologically and successfully trick your mind and body into accepting the age of 30, as fact.

I had to stop and do a little calculating the other day to remember my correct chronological age: …2004…minus 1965…carry the one, subtract that year I got divorced, …you’re smart enough to do the math. I am, …you guessed it. 30. My oh my how time flies!

There are advantages when everyone’s next birthday is always their 30th. You can buy one candle in the shape of the number 30, and reuse it each year to top every one’s birthday cake. Save a fortune by reusing birthday decorations and cards that say,.. “Today is your 30th birthday!” Recycle a birthday card and share it amongst yourselves.

Some people giggle at us and call us crazy. Others say we are are in denial, or fighting the natural process of life, ashamed of our age and refusing to age gracefully.

I say, .. lighten up, we’re only playing! It makes us laugh and we like that around here.

I’ll be happy to tell you my chronological age if you really want to know. I’m 39 Today! I have a wonderful family that keeps me on my toes, great friends, assorted animals to bond with, a comfortable job and good health. I feel like I’m somewhere in my twenties minus the class load and frat parties.

I consider myself very blessed, on this day….as every day.
Happy 30th birthday to me!

What did you learn today?

My boyfriend and I have this thing we do pretty regularly. Being both huge advocates of continuing education, every now and then we present the question: "What did you learn today?" It makes for interesting dinner conversation and helps the kids tell us what they learned at school as well. Somehow when they hear us discuss what we learned, it compels them to answer with something more than a blank stare and an "I don't remember?"

There are days when the topic of discussion is quite interesting and intellectual. Other times it might be political in nature, or derived from something we heard on a talk radio program while driving home from work. More often than not though, we come up with the oddball random bit of information useful only for a good game of trivial pursuit. Lastly, there's the painfully obvious things we know as adults, yet the kids still need to learn by doing so the hard way. It's these frustrating yet entertaining pieces of knowledge that I like to share with you guys from time to time if for anything other than my own comic relief.

Here's a few things my son learned yesterday:
1. You can't put cat litter in a toilet bowl. It turns to concrete and clogs up the commode.
2. You can't try to flush the problem away, because concrete is impregnable to water
leaving it no where to go but up... and out.
3. It's not a good idea to use the toilet scrub brush to clean the water and solidified kitty
litter off of the floor. It will just smear it around like chocolate on a white silk dress...
4. New toilet bowl scrubbers cost $3.99 at Walmart
5. Beta fish are easier than cats.
6. It's important to keep the cat away from the Beta fish.
7. Hamsters are easy too and like to roll around in little plastic balls.
8. Hamsters don't know how to stop at the top of a flight of stairs.
9. It's important to keep hamsters in little plastic balls on the ground level.
10.keep them away from curious cats that like to play with balls that magically roll around on
their own while you're at it..

You get the idea?.It's something you might want to try at home yourself with your family.

Learn something everyday from some one, some thing or about yourself. Look for the lesson in all you do and from all you meet. When you open your eyes and ears and listen with your heart, it's amazing at the knowledge you will acquire and the conversations that will develop.

The more I learn the more I realize I don't know anything.

You'll do well to take our word for it on the kitty litter thing though.

midnight raid

It's Sunday morning. First thing I notice when I come downstairs is that the hungry cat raided the pantry last night...chewed open the bag of cat food and had himself a diet crazed binge.

That explains the satiated yet guilty look he's got right now, and probably means I'll be cleaning the carpet later on.

Dang he's got issues.

Got food?

Ever since I put an end to the free-for-all cat food fest down on my bathroom floor, some things have changed around here. Namely my cat.

He isn’t pleased to say the least, because he no longer has an automatic food dish dispensing tender vittles twenty four seven. In the beginning, he looked a little panicked as he searched for his ever abundant meal supply. He’s done a lot of pacing around the house with a puzzled look on his cat face. “I KNOW it was here yesterday?” Its pitiful watching him wander around in a dazed Atkins starved stupor.

Whether he knows it or not, he’s on a strict ant free diet from here on out. He’ll be getting his meals doled out one at a time from this point forward, so as to prevent another insect outbreak in my home sweet home. (I’ll have nightmares for months after that incident thank you very much). By rationing his meals out I’ll also be helping him with his weight issue.

Whomever it was that surmised “cats won’t gorge themselves like a dog, if you put his food down to consume at his own discretion”…didn’t know squat about cats. I am certain they never met my cat. Being a first time feline owner, I believed this to be true when he was a kitty, and bought him a feeder that held a good three weeks of food (if this was indeed the case). Rockie however, four years later is rather…well…
portly as a result and in quite the overweight predicament. I like to call him “big and friendly.” I’m not allowed to write what my boyfriend calls him due to the foul language and obscenities clause regulating the composition of moral and ethical blog sites.

When it’s all said and done I should have a much healthier cat and an ant free bathroom.
Rockie on the other hand, is looking quite dazed at the left over KFC on the kitchen counter. I’d better go intercede.

The Ants go marching two by two….

So I’m sitting at my desk yesterday right? It’s coolish and sunny and I’m trying real hard to concentrate on the work at hand, instead of outside my window, when all of the sudden I’m distracted by a small blackish line that seems to be moving in a steady fashion across the bathroom floor adjacent to my office. There it was, the moment I’d been waiting for! A reason, ANY REASON AT ALL, to be distracted away from completing the quarterly reports that were due the following morning. Had a telemarketer called me to sell burial plots at this point, I would have stopped to chat. (Where are they when you need them?)

Anyways, I take the black line as the welcome diversion that it is, and gladly get up to investigate. Squinting to allow my eyes the chance to focus, I discover it is actually a little trail of the tiniest ants I’ve ever seen. About the size of a gnat, these ants happily marched single file from one end of my bathroom door, along the side of the wall, over the river and through the woods to the cat food in the automatic feeder. I studied them for a few minutes and marveled at how each and every ant was committed to following along directly behind the ant in front of him. I imagined them diligently making a sacred pilgrimage from some far away sand mound in my front yard to the promised land, which was Rockie’s big green bowl of dinner.

I tried to imagine what that first scout-er ant thought when he discovered the huge mound of Iams Hairball control formula cat food there for the taking? Dinner’s on me guys for the next 40 years!!! Woohoo!

I’ll bet somewhere back at the dirt mound, there’s a proud Moma ant bragging on her little scout for single handedly saving a nation from hunger. I’ll also bet your thinking to yourself that I’ve finally lost my monkey mind, right about now and that I need to get out more often? Just remember that when I started this story I was working on a budget. A budget involves math, money or the lack there of, and how not to spend so much of it next year. That’s only slightly more interesting than gnawing my own arm off in my opinion, so I resorted to ants. Bear with me.

Once the ants had provided all the entertainment value they were capable of I was ready to move on. Now to get rid of the ants. This would take some fore thought because if I sprayed ant poison everywhere it wouldn’t be healthy for my cat. I was also outnumbered by about 3,000 to 1, so the odds were stacked against me from the get go. I opted to get a large wad of toilet paper, and my thinking, (however skewed), was to start at one end of the soup line and start wiping them up in one clean sweep.

Apparently ants have an inaudible emergency broadcasting system that once activated, sends aunts scurrying to the far corners of the earth. Or in this case, my bathroom. I barely had gotten a good grip of the TP before they were on to me. Each ant went in a different direction and now I was in trouble. I had ants on the floor only this time in a chaotic frenzy as opposed to the nice little line I had enjoyed before. There were ants on the counter, ants in the sink, ants on the walls, up the toilet, in the cats water, his food, and yes….ants in my pants.

To end this long story, I ended up spraying ant poison everywhere, slamming the bathroom door and declaring the whole site a disaster area. Once the noxious fumes had dissipated, I went in to hose down the bathroom surfaces, rid the room of residual poison and dead ant carcasses.

My budget is still incomplete.
Such is my life today.

It was Guido, in the Alley…with a revolver

Ok, not really. It was more like Mary, in the bank, over a cup of coffee, but had I told you that earlier would you really have checked back in today to see if I made it home alive? Probably not.

The good news is that I am indeed alive, the birds are chirping and the sun is shining. I’ve applied for a line of credit that will cover the compounding expenses I’m incurring at the bank rob..…er uh…I mean the dentist’s office and as luck would have it, Mary is a compassionate soul.

She is only more than willing to help me acquire a pain free smile, with a jaw joint that doesn’t click or pop when I chew. “Just fill out these forms, initial here, and sign on the bottom of pages 2,3,4,5 and 6.” "When you’ve finished signing (my pretty), gather your belongings and step back into the office with the big red door. I’ll meet you there for fingerprinting, blood work analysis, and to arrange the details for the handover of your next born child. You can leave your van keys with my assistant too as we will be needing them for collateral, along with your house keys and your right arm. You are right handed aren’t you? (We only accept the dominate one needed for daily functioning)”.

Now that I am contractually obligated to a life of complete and utter Servitude to Mary, I’ll be sure to smile effortlessly and wave as my dentist drives by in his new Mercedes sport.

I’ll bet Mary’s somehow in cahoots with my dentist and they laugh every night whilst rolling lavishly together in big piles of my money. Who can blame them? Had I had the foresight to become a dentist, instead of a traveling saleswoman of sorts, it could have been me with all that money! But I didn’t.

So like I said when I started... I’m alive, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. I’ll choose to focus on that today and think about how great it will be when my jaws are fixed, pain free and my smile rivals that of any moviestar.

Oh yes,

all donations can be wired directly to the Savannah Bank, care of the “When Suzanna Smiles” fund. Thanks for your contributions.

Loan Sharks and Orthodontistry

It’s Sunday, a dreary one at that, and I’m looking for inspiration to write this morning. I had to take yesterday off from posting because had I written, it would have been more like a ranting raving session on the downfalls of insurance in this country and certainly nothing very pleasant to read, so I spared you all the grief.

You see I went to the Dentist yesterday. I’ve had this TMJ bite problem for several years now, and apparently I’ve procrastinated fixing the problem so long that I no longer have a choice anymore but to get braces. Again. This will be the second time mind you, as I already labored through a full mouth of railroad tracks and headgear when I was a teen. That alone was not enough to fix the problem so I’m told, and I’ll be needing a second installment. Oh Joy! (Coincidentally there are still orthodontists in Savannah whose sports car payments and children’s college tuitions are dependant on the condition of my oral health. I believe it is my personal karma to help them accomplish these goals).

The problem with my jaws have become so severe that it’s interfering with my ear canal, and causing a lot of pain and ringing in my ears. I am left with only two choices:
1). Live with the pain and do nothing, or 2). go visit a dark hairy guy named Guido to discuss the second mortgage of my house and a monthly repayment plan. I’m not fond of either option, but just as in politics, there is no C) none of the above choice.

My appointment with Guido is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 8:30. If you don’t hear from me again after today, please notify the the Chatham County Police department with this information for their further investigation, and remember...
I love you all.

Have a wonderful Sunday!