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!