I've got a mile high pile of laundry to do today, so blogging will be minimal at best. Instead of writing today, i'm going to share a few of my favorite mermaid pictures which I will do occasionally when time (or my imagination) is limited.
While your at it, run over to Sharon's and check out the mermaid she just did!
One of my girlfriends opened a new boutique about three months ago. It was a huge undertaking and a lot of hard work resulting in a beautiful gift shop, art gallery and florist. Business had been steady, as the locals popped in to see the wonderful things creatively displayed around the store, and to pick up a treasure or two.
Of course with today being Valentine’s Day they were swamped so my friend asked if I would be able to help out with the floral deliveries. I’m always happy to assist a friend, so I agreed.
From morning until evening, the shop was a-buzz with Valentine business. The phones rang off the walls, as bewildered looking men made their way through the store ordering flowers and looking for the perfect gifts. My job was to play delivery woman, in which case I spent the day going back and forth between the store and the homes of many unsuspecting women who were pleasantly surprised to be the recipients of assorted bouquets. Each time a woman would come to the door she would squeal in delight, or blush with embarrassment. Either way, their reactions tickled me.
I must have delivered to 40 different addresses stopping only for an hour to drop of 180 chocolate chip cookies at the 5th grade Valentine party and to check on the outcome of a certain little girl’s answer to my son’s request to be his valentine. He nervously stayed up last night making her the perfect card with carefully placed butterfly stickers, and admiring the peach colored flip-flop charm that was to be her gift.
It was a busy day and I got to share in a little bit of a lot of people’s happiness, and that was a pleasure.
Until her.
She was my very last stop of the evening and while my heart was still smiling from a full day of pleasant deliveries, it was about to be crushed by a customer’s whose chest cavity was filled with vinegar and thumbtacks.
I rang the door expecting to be greeted with someone’s surprised wife only to be verbally accosted by an ungrateful, unappreciative, hateful bitch who complained that she was getting flowers at 6:00 pm, which was UNACCEPTABLE! 
She spent what seemed to be an eternity yelling at me about the flowers, the time it was, and the basket they were in without so much as barely glancing at them. She told me she didn’t want them now, with the same fury of a three year old not getting her way! My friend’s florist was unacceptable, the product was unacceptable, the delivery was unacceptable, my fuchsia cashmere sweater with my grey WOOL PANTS WERE TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE…
(Ok she didn’t say that, but she might have well had because by this point I was starting to take her whole assault very personal and that uncomfortable twinge that happens in my stomach right before I start to cry was creeping up)! She called my friend and told her off, then told me off some more. I just stood there like a dope, all the while thinking to myself what poor man had to come home to her every night.
What’s wrong with people?
Doesn’t she know that somewhere a little boy’s heart is breaking because after mustering up all of his courage to profess his fondness for his Valentine, she said no? …. Doesn’t she know that her husband took the time to especially order those three particular flowers just for her.., one for each of their daughters names….Rose, Lilly, and Iris?,…and that my friend had to special order the lilies because they weren’t in season?
Somewhere someone would have loved to get a Valentine. But nope.
Not her.
It was 6:00.
There was nothing waiting for her at the door when she arrived home from work 30 minutes ago and THAT…
was simply UNACCEPTABLE.
Wow. What a hateful woman. 
I visited many beautiful places on my trip to Hawaii, but my most favorite things I did always involved the hula shows.
Hawaiian’s have inherited a rich tradition of hula (dances) and mele oli (chants),
full of stories of gods and goddesses, ceremonies, prayers, protocol, imagery, wisdom, and intelligence. 
The tradition is passed on to each generation 
and teaches how to respect family, appreciate natural phenomena, love the land, understand hierarchy, recognize life and death cycles, and acknowledge and honor the presence of life. 
I was fascinated by the rich history of the hula, the stories they told, as well as the beauty and grace of the performers. The dance steps that you see are not only stunning to watch, but represent different movements in nature. 
Of course while I was there, I just had to pick up a couple of DVD’s on the hula. I bought a variety to help me remember the wonderful shows, colors, and music we experienced in order to relive them at later moments of recollection. (It had nothing to do with the fact that there were waaay too many to choose from, and I couldn’t make up my mind so I had to buy several).
(Ahem).
I bought:
How to Hula…because learning is a good thing and I always want to learn.
The hula workout…because uh...I hate to jog.
And the Polynesian Cultural Center’s show…because it was very entertaining.
I wish you could see the Hula workout video! Holy cow! If following along with Kiki’s workout three times a week will make my figure look like her’s…,well then I’d better get started right now!
I turned it on because I was in the mood for some exercise, but I got so mesmerized just watching the steps that the next thing I knew I was sitting on the couch gnawing on a pork chop and watching the T.V. like it was a good movie.
The flowers were incredible in Hawaii too, 
and before long I was decorated from head to toe with the most fragrant orchids and plumeria leis. 
I can still smell them in my mind, and in the body lotion I brought home with me from the hotel.
It was a wonderful trip, and I can’t wait to hear all about Kim’s adventures when she returns. She’s scheduled to hook up with D. and B’tude one day while she’s there too so that should be fun.
Ahhh…I want to go back.
Sharon did a MeMe on her blog this morning, and as I am totally in awe of her talent, and don’t possess the inkling to produce anything original today, I’ve decided to shamelessly follow suit and do the MeMe myself. I would also like to note that something has gone wrong with the formatting of my posts. The previews never look like the published version, with all spacing non existant, causing the whole entry to look like one giant run on sentence. If anyone knows what the problem is, i'd appreciate the tip too! *note: Seems i've found the problem and it's working now!
Now for that Meme.
Here goes:
Four jobs I was really, really bad at:
I don’t recall being bad at any of my jobs! I can remember working with minimal enthusiasm over selling lamps one summer in a department store, but I wasn’t bad at it. In fact, If any poor soul accidentially wandered into the lamp department I'm pretty sure I kept them fairly entertained if nothing else.
Four movies I could watch over and over:
Honestly, I do well to stay focused long enough to watch one movie all the way through once. If I watch a movie more than once, I’m sure to catch something I didn’t see the first go round. A few movies I did enjoy were:
1. The Napoleon mini series
2. SWAT
3. Enemy of the State
Some celebrities I worshiped when I was little.
The name of my favorite show when I was a kid alludes me at the moment. It starred Leif Garret, 
the singing teen idol, and I had a huge crush on him. I believe he looks something like this now 
and is once again in drug rehab. I will say that my fascination with celebrities is very small to say the least, because the ones I have met were either obnoxious or disappointing. They are people just like us… only richer. On the other end of the spectrum, I discovered while googling these images of Leif, that there are apparently people who actually scrapbook photographs and articles of their favorite celebrity which is waaaay creepy in my opinion.
Names I wanted instead of Suzanne
The name Suzanne is just fine for me, although I didn’t go by Suzanne until my first year in college. Up till that point I was “Suzi” and a handful of old friends may refer to me by that name from time to time out of habit. I’m not fond of Suzi, so I wouldn’t recommend addressing me in that fashion these days unless we have a long history.
I am especially irritated by those substituting the name Sue, or Susan for my actual name Suzanne.
Injuries I have suffered:
The worst was a concussion and would explain a lot of things about me I’m afraid. I lived at the roller skating rink in my youth, and once while rounding the corner of the dimly lit skating surface, tripped on another child causing me to hit my head on the floor and again on the wall. I remember sitting down on the carpet covered benches, and seeing what appeared to be water filing up in my eyes. Shortly thereafter I had no vision at all, and was mentioning something about my wing being broken. I believe this is when my mother decided it was time to take me to the emergency room, and if memory serves me correct my vision didn’t return for a full day or so. Other than that….I’ve been pretty lucky having no broken bones or other major accidents knock on wood.
Four childhood memories and/or dreams.
1. Eating laundry soap
2. Having my teeth fall out
3. Having my teeth crumble out
4. Having my teeth wiggle loose and me spitting them out.
I’m seeing a pattern here.
Four celebrities I have bothered:
None. The whole celebrity stalker thing kind of creeps me out. I might pick up a magazine at the beauty salon and glimpse at the goings on of the moment, but I have no desire to chase, bother, scrapbook, or otherwise obsess over any celebrity. In fact when I have seen them in the past, I specifically act as if I don’t know them.
In my flight attendant days, I saw many and personally was never that impressed.
Here’s the rundown that I can think of at the moment which I either served, walked next to, spoke with or had to sneak past hoards of fans. Lionel Richie, Michael J. Fox, his wife and kid, Kenny Loggins, (he was very tall) Regis and Joy Philbin, Martin Sheen, George Carlin, Richard Lewis, Jerry Springer, professional wrestlers, and a couple more actors that I can’t remember their names at the moment.
That’s it for today folks.
A few weeks ago, I picked out some peppers 
at the grocery store to season something I was cooking at the time.
I don’t recall the recipe now, but that’s neither here nor there. It called for spicy, and these were beautifully colored little red peppers at the market, so I stocked up on them, thinking they would come in handy.
After dicing away at the little jewels, I tasted a piece to check the heat index.
Turns out it wasn’t hot. Not in the least! In fact it tasted more like a red bell pepper, kind of sweet and fresh.
Moving right along in my story…
… while preparing for tonight’s Talapia with mango salsa dinner, 
I took another one of the little peppers and started to chop. I chopped one half of a jalapeño and tossed it in the bowl along with some finely diced mango, tomato, onion, cilantro, and a bit of lemon juice. I reached for the innocent little red pepper, but this time…woa!
Danger! Red Alert! Not the same pepper as last time!!
I started to choke just chopping it as the fumes permeated my lungs, then coughing uncontrollably, until my eyes were watering profusely. I drank water, and then milk, and then some more water….and just as I started to settle down, I came up with the brilliant idea that I’d better taste a small piece before I put it in the bowl. You know, just to make sure it didn’t ruin my salsa.
I didn’t recall the pepper’s being that hot the last time, and uh…I’m an idiot, because the asthma inducing fumes weren’t enough of a huge freaking hint that this was a HOT PEPPER!!! HELLO!!! I still needed to set my mouth on fire by actually tasting the pepper, and then touch my nose as it was running thus causing hot pepper juice to soak into my nasal membranes, resulting in flames that shot from my nostrils, oh, and to top it off I needed to stick my finger in my eye …you know, just to make sure the pepper wasn’t hot!
I’m smart like that.
I’ll be recovering until tomorrow morning thank you.
Bon Appétit
I write for comic relief.
I write to spout off my take on life’s funny little quirks that happen to us all.
But life isn’t always funny.
And when I hear about something so horrific, like this poor woman who in a split second of her life, lost all five of her children and two neices to a senseless car accident….
Well it just seems too trivial in comparison to even write.
I’m angered that each and every article that pops up about the horrendous catastrophe seems to focus on the fact that the girl driving was 15 years old and only had a learners permit.
I’m angered that the press, in it’s desperate attempt to make any story sound exciting, chooses to throw this around like it had anything to do with the fact that the children’s vehicle was slammed from the rear by a huge truck that didn’t break before crashing into the back of them, pinning their car between itself and the school bus in front of it.
The children’s car instantaneously burst into flames.
They were sitting at a red light.
Her age was irrelevant.
I’m heart sick for this woman, who in one nightmarish blink, lost the sounds of giggles, and arguing, the sounds of homework, and forks scratching on dinner plates, and bedtime routines and the hustle bustle of a house full of family getting ready for school in the mornings, and then…..
to top it off, shortly thereafter this poor woman lost her own father, upon hearing the news of the fate of his grandchildren. His heart couldn’t take the information.
So much devastating loss.
So much of what happens in life seems so unfair.
Keep her in your thoughts and prayers. It could have just as easily been one of us.
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?
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.
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? 
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.
Want to start your day off with a giggle?
This little girl is precious...
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6587521700543756525
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
… 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! 
