Contemblogging 2006?

So maybe the hair cut and color didn’t achieve the desired results…

and maybe the new car, while rather sporty is not quite enough to tame the forces of transformation stirring in my soul.

I’m still seeking modification over a multitude of venues.

Now I realize you all love (read *tolerate) and have grown accustomed to my trademark retinal scorching purple blog, but a facelift is none the less inevitable there too don’t you think?

Only that creates a small problem with me having to make a decision.
A new template would require a decision on my part with regards to a single choice of color, theme, style, and so forth, which would of course lend itself to difficulties in me making up my mind. (Why do you think it’s been purple for so long in the first place?)

So I’ve made an executive decision, and decided to let you guys vote on your favorite look for my new and improved blog for 2006. I’ve come up with several schemes if you will, based on personal meaning and favorite colors. You get to vote for the new look you think suits me best, K? won’t that be fun?
Contestant number one:

this represents my cat Rockie, and uh...the color green. It matches his eyes, and I laugh at him daily. I also like green, and you haven't burned the rods and cones in your eyes for the color green yet.

Contestant number two:

There's that pesky purple again, but what can I say...I like purple. Tulips are my favorite flowers, especially purple ones

Contestant number three:

While still purple, it's of a different more tolerable hue. I like the one yellow dafodil standing alone in a sea of purple tulips and represents me.

and contestant number four:

A mermaid theme to go with my interest in collecting mermaids.

Keep in mind these are just schemes and not actual templates. The finished product may be slightly different, but you get the jest.

Please. Help a libra out and vote for your favorite blog scheme for Contemblogging won't you?

It's just hair right?

Hi everyone, It’s me, Suzanne
…what’s that you say? You didn’t recognize me because of my new and improved hair cut and color? The one that makes me look like Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Lopez all rolled into one hunka hunka burning love?

No? oh. I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood you.

The good news is I got my hair done, and I’m not sobbing into a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream with marshmallow topping. The hairdresser delivered a service as promised without going into an Edward Scizzorhands impression, and thus was spared the wrath of Suzanne on a bad hair day. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping…
Gosh, it's good to be me.

What’s that? You want more information on how it went and a photograph to prove I actually showed up for my appointment? Well alright then, I mean, if you really want to know. Far be it from me to withhold details, especially the ones with such significant impact on world peace!

First…I showed up. HUGE!

Then, I had to make a few things clear to the stylist before we could proceed.
1. That I only got haircuts about once a year because I was totally traumatized as a child by a Dorothy Hamill do, that forced me to wake up 3 hours early every morning to blow dry and straighten my curly hair… In south freaking Florida’s humidity.

2. That I would probably hunt her down like a rabid dog, and personally pull her fingernails out of the nail beds if she got scissor happy on me ha ha not really. But, uh…really.

and 3. That this was only the tip of my neurosis iceberg, so if
she wouldn’t mind, I’d need her to sign this waiver releasing me
of all liability for damages incurred to the surrounding properties
should I be unhappy with the results.

With that out of the way, she was free to carry on at her own risk.
She did so by weaving a roll of aluminum foil squares into my hair, while mucking around with some goopy pungent smelly stuff. She then set out to make me look like this,
and i'm pretty sure she was laughing to herself too. By the time she was done, about 45 minutes later, I was picking up radio stations from the next county and feeling oh so very sexy.

I spent the following 30 minutes alternating being worried and fantasizing about what it would be like when I made my first red carpet entrance. It might be key to note here that I had been sniffing said smelly goopy stuff with my head stuck in a helmet style hairdryer.

She eventually washed it all out, mumbling how much I was going to love it, while nervously giggling about having two small children to care for.

Then she sat me down back in the chair and began the styling process. It went virtually without incident , and she was allowed to live to see another day.

Me: "That's... it"?
HD: "Yep". *crinching with bated breath*
Me: "Cool. What's the damage"?
HD: "$$$.$$"
Me: *reaching for a paper bag to stop the hyperventilating* "Do you take small children or must I pay in cash"?

I paid her an amount equal to her childs first private school payment then
off I went on my merry way, practicing my red carpet walk out the door.

That wasn't so bad I thought checking myself in the rear view mirror. I can do this whole change thing....piece-a-cake.

Now to make a long story shorter than a really looong story I'll just cut to the reviews.

First stop was to pick up little man from school where he immediately informed me he hated the new color and liked me better with black hair.
Me: "now don't be shy...tell me how you really feel".

Later that evening hubby comes home from work and gave me a politically safe answer.
Me: "Well, what do you think"?
him: *with raised eyebrow* "I'm not sure...I need some time to get used to it. I don't hate it".
well now THAT'S a relief.

Friends gave lukewarm opinions. "It's ok, but you look better with your dark hair".

ALRIGHT THEN.

Seems change is not always a good thing.

[side note] I'd post a picture, but the batteries just went dead on the camera.
Maybe that's a sign.

Hair today, gone different tomorrow.

I took a picture of myself today, because come tomorrow at a pre arranged time, I am going to morph...and I'll need some kind of photographic evidence to my previous appearance.

And no...I'm not morphing into a power ranger. I'm talking about something much worse than running around fighting evil while sporting colorful spandex unitards in public.

I'm getting a Hair cut! eeeek!
Color even...
maybe some highlights?

I swore I wouldn’t start coloring my hair again until I went grey, but I’ve changed my mind. again. like that never happens?

Tonight I’m hopeful. Tomorrow could be freeing, and the start of a whole new me.
Well… the same me but in a new package.
Or I could be in a messy puddle of tears but that's neither here nor there.

It will grow back in say, a year's time, and if I don’t look good in Loreal Medium Mocha Caramel with natural face framing highlights then there’s nothing stopping me from recoloring myself back into a dark brunette is there?

Dishes to Dine For...

I was going over some files in my laptop tonight, and grouped together a bunch of photographs. Photographs of tables of all things, decorated for various holidays and festive occasions.

“Why did you do that Suzanne”? You might be asking yourself, while secretly hoping that I’m not actually nutsy enough to dedicate an entire post to pictures of decorated tablescapes. Unless of course you’re my Mother and Sister, in which case you probably have your own pictures of tables that you yourself painstakingly decorated in all matters of colors and themes, and find the whole subject perfectly normal.



It’s a habit I picked up from them and after years of enjoying their lovely dishes, I now enjoy doing it myself.

Whether i'm showing off my newest Christmas dishes, or it's Easter, St. Patrick’s Day, a shower, or the 4th of July, I love to pull out the coordinating party ware and set a pretty table. I have fond memories of that with my Mother, and try to recreate the same environment in my own home, for my own kids to remember me by later. It’s but one small way to create memories an family traditions, and something I enjoy. These are only a few of my table top creations, and a sampling of dishes, but it's enough to illustrate the point without sending you into a coma.

What silly things do you do to create family traditions

Ho hum.

I sit, finger tips ever so gently poised on the primary qwerty keys, ready to wow my audience (all four of you) with a story…any story.

Only problem is I’m feeling rather ho hum. I’m not sure if it’s the anticlimactic end to a beautiful wedding/holiday season, or the fact that I turned 40? It might be because I was sick all week, and haven’t returned yet to the full vitality and glow I frequently radiate. In fact, my glow meter is a low 2 on a scale of 1 to 10.

There’s no glow.

Not even a lousy twinkle.

After applying an ample supply of makeup, I still look tired and blah.

I’m afraid it’s the five year itch. The inherent need to change, redo, regroup. It hits me every 5 years or so, and usually results in a new job, a move or perhaps a new house. With the cost of living rapidly increasing and next year’s private school tuition due within weeks...more likely I’m looking at a new pair of curtains, or maybe a haircut.

Let the transformations begin.
The first change of the year took place yesterday when I said goodbye to my blue Moma van. I loved my van, full of memories, Barbie shoes, plastic dinosaurs and the occasional lost cheerio. I could almost hear the sounds of giggling (or arguing) children echoing from the van as I gave it one last look and fondly told it goodbye. Its lease ran out at 60,000 miles so I was switched to the new hybrid Ford Escape. It’s brand new and has that new car smell that you either love, or that sends you into raging fits of asthma. It’s smaller, sportier, silver, and has a much younger feel than my previous parental mobile. That should take a few years off the old image huh?

Change is good. Scary, but more often than not necessary. Now I’m thinking I need a make over too, because when I look in the mirror I see a tired woman with frazzled hair and dark circles under her eyes. Maybe a new ‘do’ is just the thing I need to update my appearance and add some pep to my step? I’m not a fan or hairdressers by any means, and tend to avoid them until I’m bumping into things from obstructed vision. But it is, after all, just hair and will grow back if I find myself weak and unable to throw rocks or build floating arcs, or however that story goes.

I’m taking suggestions, which doesn’t necessarily mean I will act on them because I am a big fat hairy pair of sissy pants when it comes to cutting my locks, but I’m listening. Go on…make me over.

Baby Beyonce?

Want to start your day off with a giggle?
This little girl is precious...

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6587521700543756525

sheesh.

Last night I went to my son's basketball game. He's about as interested in basketball as I am but for the sake of learning teamwork, and experiencing the camaraderie a young boy does while on a court of some sort, we encouraged him to give it a try this season, just to see if he liked it. You can’t know if you like something until you try it at least once right?

Unfortunately for him he’s not yet mastered the skills associated with basketball, and spends the majority of the games warming the bench. Occasionally he’ll get a few moments of play time and I cheer my baby boy on like any proud Mother will do. I cheer him on even when he’s on the bench, despite the goofy looks I get from the bleachers, and I take pictures, and scrapbook them for a later date in time. He looks so darned cute in his little uniform, I just can’t help myself. I’m proud of him for even trying because I know what it would be like if I was out there trying to do that whole dribble and run at the same time thingy. It wouldn’t be pretty I can tell you that much.
It wouldn't.

At the moment, i'm not feeling up to snuff. I've got enough bacteria in my chest to qualify as a walking pitri dish. The lung funk that's going around caught up with me and I have coughed myself hoarse. I'm sure the folks in the bleachers didn't appreciate my hacking up nuclear material all over the place, but I wouldn't miss an opportunity to cheer for my Little Man, ever.

It's time to medicate, and get some sleep.

Say goodnight Suzanna

With the end of the year comes the beginning of the next

… and just to show you that I’m equally as motivated as the next gal, even though on occasion it might appear otherwise, I’ve decided to formulate an attainable resolution for 2006.

But before I do this, let’s check on the progress I made on last years resolutions shall we?

Per my last year’s list, I half heartedly committed to the following:

Start working out again. With moments I was a shining example of physical fitness and agility. With others I was more like a potato, of the couch variety.
Score: C
learn to play the Piano.


I’m please to report that I did. I also lie. Which is to say that I didn’t even touch a piano keyboard, but at least I’m honest about it, right?
Score: F


Have Amanda teach me Chinese.Um…How do you say
fat chance in Mandarin?
Score: F

Win the lottery. Whaaaat? It could happen!
Unfortunately it didn’t.
Score: F

Get another motorcycle.I did. And I rode a little.
And it sat in the garage a lot. Regrettably with age comes responsibility, and motorcycle’s are not conducive to responsibile productivity.
It’s up for sale now.
Score: A

Resolutions I did make:
Teach my children to see, value, and comprehend their blessings. This is an ongoing resolve which may or may not kill me. Somehow I think purchasing a cell phone for Little man was contradictory to the ultimate message, but he is learning. We’ve donated time, helped out, and offered monetary assistance whenever we could. In addition I am currently working on a Nicaraguan mission trip that will hopefully counterbalance my cellular faux pas. Score: B

Clean my closet and haul the clothes to Goodwill.Done. Yay me! Score: A

Have the house painted inside. Done. Score: A

Get motivated even if it means prescription drugs. Do you have any idea what a month’s supply of prozac costs? Well I do, and i'm just sayin'...


Moving right along…
This year I’m employing a new strategy, because obviously the old one lacked a few critical factors for success. The dumbest thing a person can do is to keep doing the same thing while expecting different results. So I’m taking a new approach to this traditional practice of stating beforehand what I will accomplish this year, and avoiding resolutions altogether.

I would like to say conversely, that I hope to have a healthy, prosperous, and giddiously happy 2006, and I wish you all the very same.
Happy New Years Everyone!

Oh shoot.

I’m out of Dorito’s.

Let’s head over to Moogie's place and see if she has any munchies.

I’ve got the keys to her place to pilferage her kitchen...uh...I mean,
guest post on her blog while she’s away…

come on and go with me, it'll be fun.

T'is the season to eat junk food

I've been very bad.

I've been eating whatever I was craving regardless of the calorie count or lack of healthy content.

In fact, the closest I came to eating a vegetable yesterday was the green residual seasoning stuck to my fingers after I devoured a bag of guacamole Doritos.


I'm pretty sure green is a vegetable, no?

Anyway, it’s a hormonally induced condition that won’t last more then a day or two when once again equilibrium will be restored to the land.

I had planned to go over my list of last years resolutions and evaluate the results, however in my current state of gestational imbalance, I would much rather go eat a taco.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Thank you for stopping by!

Oh Christmas Tree...Oh Christmas tree

how dusty art thou branches.

I pulled the tree out of it's resting place in the garage, and assembled it without a dust mask.

dang it.
somebody pass the Bendadryl, then tell me it looks marvelous k?

Aloha family.

After a fun filled week in Hawaii, I arrived back to Savannah safe and sound, pulled into the nearest store and ordered a case of ohdamnitnowIhavetoreturntowork with a side order of jet lag.

The need for sleep still arises at odd and inappropriate hours of the day, only to be followed by nights of restless tossing and turning.

I had the good fortune to meet up with some fellow bloggers who welcomed me like royalty! DB over at Corporate Crapola, B’Tude of Bitchitude,
TuTu Bent’s Hale, her daughter Ui and her precious little grand daughter Kamalani at Child of the Sea
spent the evening with us, treated us to a yummy dinner, and the most wonderful smelling orchid Lei!!

You’ll never guess what color it was either!
Ok, maybe you can guess….
yes it was purple…

because they knew I love purple…

and that’s just what kind of sweet people these folks are! We giggled and took pictures, (none of which I can manage to get out of the video camera as of yet but promise to do so this weekend), and got to know each other a bit better.

Kamalani and her Mom Ui were both witty and super adorable…as was grandmother TuTu Bent.
D. was kind enough to chauffeur me around like a real professional through the busiest traffic I’ve seen in a while, and B’tude was soft spoken and just a lovely intelligent woman who’s kind heart was self evident.

I couldn’t bare to part with my Lei’s so I brought them home and put them in the fridge to show anyone who will stop long enough to sniff and oogle with me.

It's late, and i've got to try and get some sleep, but I will be back soon to post more pictures of my Hawaiian adventure.


until then-

suitable attire

My friend popped over this morning to drop off something and pick up something.
I’d say what something was only I don’t remember anymore.

Just like I didn’t remember why I walked her into the adjacent room to show her something only to forget what something was once we got there.
“It’s in here,” I said “come with me…” leading her through the magical magnetic door frame that obviously wiped my brain matter clean of any useful residue the minute we passed through.

I stood there sputtering and scratching my head while sizzling noises seeped from my ears.  “wait…what am I doing here again”?  


"Do you smell smoke?"
“and what did you say your name was again”?

Maybe I’m just a little distracted…what, with Thanksgiving, the house guests, the kids arrival, and the approaching wedding.   It’s possible I suppose, but I’m good.  Really I am.

Now what do you think about this jacket?


I feel all snuggly and loved when I wear it.

I’m just gonna sit here and play with this shiny object while you fasten the straps…m-kay?

Do you remember when I tried to play golf?
Well, as luck would have it… turns out I’m only 1/3 as bad at playing tennis as I am at golf, and slightly better than I am at bowling.

This comes with a great deal of relief to me, because had I seriously stunk at tennis today when I went to play with my girl friend, I would have had to join the likes of the unpopular kids in middle school. You see popularity and athletic ability go hand in hand, or so my 11 year old son disappointedly informed me today at the end of his basketball practice.

His basketball skills are about as honed as my bowling skills. Which really aren’t that bad thank you very much… provided I put those bumper thingies up to keep my ball from jumping across the adjacent lane and into the gutter.

Middle school can be hard on a kid’s sense of self-confidence and if you’re not naturally athletic by design, you won’t get noticed by the “hot” girls.

Wait. He wants a girlfriend? I don’t want to hear this… he is, after all, my baby and should be playing with duckies and rubber alligators shouldn’t he?

Once he pulled my fingers out of my ears and got me to stop repeating “la la la la” I found out there was a problem with another boy at school.

Some little snot nosed bully of a midget…(I’m sorry, did I just say that out loud?) was teasing my son this week, daunting him into thinking he shouldn’t come to the first practice because he sucked at basketball. I despise bullies, and am fighting the moma cat urge to go scratch his cold hearted little eyeballs out.

I mean, not really…
but uh…really.

It’s disheartening to me how vulnerable a child’s ego is at that age, and how harsh words can wound a fragile soul, causing such anguish and depression. I had the appropriate talk with Little Man about how there will always be bullies in life and how you can’t let them get you down or ruin your fun. I also whipped out the compassion card from my bag of Mommy wisdom and explained how that little boy might have a very difficult family life which ultimately causes him to behave with such a mean spirit, and that maybe we should just pray for him to be a nicer person. When all of that failed to convince him he should try at least one time to see if he liked it, I pulled rank and made him go to practice anyways. He ended up doing just fine, and I’d say plays just as well as the majority of the boys on the team.

Now promise me a couple of things:

1. If you are the parent of a bully …please for the love of God, talk to your child and make him stop! No one should have to go through a day fearful of getting picked on. It’s just not right. and..
2. If you see me stomping towards the basketball gym hissing to myself...keep an eye on me, and stop me if I start to swing.

On another note: I went and had my hair done today, in practice for the approaching wedding. She put lot’s of curls in it, and piled it high on top of my head. I sort of liked it, but it wasn’t really the essence of Suzanne. I’m not sure what I’ll end up doing with it on the big day, but at least now I have a better idea.



I’m off to bed for now.

Say goodnight Suzanne.

They say it's my birthday...

40

This is a good number I think right?

divisible by two....

even...

nice round number?

Than why do I feel so bad today?

This has not been a happy day.