S is for sleep.
Sigh
Something I’ll apparently be having nothing of
Seems awfully lonely in the wee hours or the morning
Should I order a pizza?
Suppose I should take some Benadryl, huh?
This sucks!
Z is for…
Uh…
Um…
*taps keyboard impatiently with fingers…
Think think think
Oh forget it. I can’t think of anything that starts with
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
It's time again for the yearly Home Show in Savannah this weekend, and I've been busy of late.
Several customers have exhibit booths proudly displaying my wares so it’s important that I am there to polish them up, decorate them with literature, and wave my perfectly manicured nails around like a trade show Vannah White. I will answer any and every question, pass out free key chains, and woo them with my salesmanship skills until they are absolutely convinced they must have our product in their home or die .
I started thinking about how fun it would be if this was instead a Blogger’s Convention and trade show. Each exhibitor would introduce some new fangled concept in personal web log design, and publishers would vie for the rights to the most sought out of Authors, offering obscene amounts of cash for our talents as writers.
It also gave me an idea for a poll I could use with my free 30 day subscription to Neomyz poll creator.
It was either that or:
How much do you like Me?
a. I like you
b. I like you –like you
c. I don’t like you at all
d. You’re a doodie head
Please humor me and take the poll!
Due to a problem with the script for the poll, (and my lack of ability to fix it) I've removed the poll on Blogging conventions. Please feel free to continue participating in the one featured in this post.
P.s. If you think i'm a doodie head...then...then...oh yeah...well...I know you are but what am I?
I got this in an email a few days ago. It's similar to one I received many many years ago that made such an impression on me. It illustrates a basic philosophy that I try to live by....
and it explains why I drink my milk in my good crystal.
I thought I would share.
------------------
Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.
I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible.
How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched something on television?
I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, "How about going to lunch in a half hour?" She would gas up and stammer, "I can't. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain." And my personal favorite: "It's Monday." She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.
Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches.. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!
We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Jr. toilet-trained. We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.
Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of "I'm going to," "I plan on," and "Someday, when things are settled down a bit."
When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.
My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now...go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to......not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask "How are you?" Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, "We'll do it tomorrow." And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say "Hi"?
When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift....Thrown away....
Life is not a race.
Take it slower.
Hear the music before the song is over.
--------------------------------
Drink your milk in the good crystal!
Instead of posting I'm redirecting my traffic to Sharon today. Please visit her and send your thoughts and prayers!
When Suzanne Smiles: The final Chapter.
Well then.
What could I possibly say that hasn’t already been said about my Dentist and his new Porshe/house on the mountain/house on the beach/private jet/Costa Rican property/ (fill in the blank)?
His children are doing well, thank you for asking. They’re both in their 2nd year of college you know…one will make a fine Surgeon one day, and the other should be set for law school by 2008. I had hoped for a thank you card, or some small token of appreciation for my selfless support of their continuing educational needs, but hmmmm, as of yet, not the first word. I’m sure their just busy bless their little hearts.
After a final grinding, filing and sandpaper session my teeth rival that of any red carpet diva. I’m a new woman in my new bright shiny flawless Porcelain teeth and aren’t they beautiful? *
*The correct answer is “oh my, yes Suzanne…just beautiful”. (Or something equally as flattering).
$12,000 later (shudder) I am pleased with the results. My teeth actually fit together when I bite down, and that annoying little pop and click has disappeared from my jaw joint.!
I’m happy on pain killers, and ready to take a nappie nappie.
Except for that one little financial thing I still need to work out with Guido…
Life is good on this 15th day of February.
Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking lately.
Five months ago I had no idea what a blog was. Since then I’ve learned that having a blog can mean many different things for different people. Some use them as an outlet for creative writing, expressing poetry, or telling stories. Other’s use them as a gathering point to centralize news events, political stories, arts, crafts, recipes or photographs. On occasion you might even find a blog where someone pours their struggles out into the blogosphere touching the hearts and souls of unsuspecting readers. Funds are raised for charities, prayers are consolidated for those in need, and friendships are formed throughout a virtual community.
I re-read the first post I wrote on Contemblogging. I debated with myself on what purpose it would serve, what void it would fill if I made the jump and what prey tell, would I even write about.
I contemplated .
And so it was born.
I filed it under the humor category of the blog directory because I suspected it would be a place for me to talk about the silly things that run through my mind on a daily basis. It’s turned out to be more of a general blog than anything else, not particularly complying with any of the typical norms. I’m not sharing knitting skills, I’m not a minority Daddy blogger, I don’t have anything inspirational to say, and let’s be honest…a stand up comedian I’m not. I feel like the outsider…the kid that blends into the woodwork not really having a place to fit in…a category to call home. My BLAHg.
I’ll be honest. That’s how I’ve felt most of my life so it should come to me as no surprise that blogging would turn out to be the same sort of experience. Just good enough to go unnoticed by the bullies, but not quite the prom queen.
I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to better myself, striving to reach something…. ANYTHING,… to improve my self worth. What I’ve learned is that there is always someone who can do it better. "It" being the current task at hand. I can do alot of things a little, but still can't find the one thing I do best.
I’m still searching for my purpose.
I’m contemblogging again.
No… not venereal disease silly.
Valentine’s Day!!
Some people dread it like the flu. Others require very little urging to do something kind for their loved ones, and find Valentines Day just another wonderful excuse.
I happen to fall into the latter of categories, because I can think of no better holiday than one that’s sole purpose is to celebrate LOVE. Whether it be the love you have for your partner, child, parents, or friends, there’s a Hallmark card just waiting on the shelf with their name on it.
When it all boils down to it, love is what makes the world go around. It’s what matters the most in a society full of opportunities to skew your priorities and focus on all the wrong things. We tend to neglect the ones we are the closest too, saving manners and polite social etiquette for strangers we pass in the mall. We forget to say thank you to our partners for doing the dishes for a change, or making sure the laundry is done. We neglect to comment on how smashing they look in their new outfit today, or how nice the project is turning out that they’ve been working on all week. We hop into bed, exhausted at the end of the day, and start to read or watch television…forgetting to wrap our arms around one other in a warm inviting hug. Isn’t it after all, these little things that made the relationship so wonderful in the beginning?
Feeling loved and loving others is for me, the most important aspect of life and so I celebrate Valentines Day in all of its commercial glory…without bitterness, or dread. I decorate the dinner table with red, and serve heart shaped goodies. We eat chocolate, and exchange cards, I make sure my Valentines know how special they are to me, and how much I love them… each and every day of the year.
I seem to be missing a key on my keyboard tis morning. I’m appy to say it isn’t a letter tat I use a lot, but never te less, tis means I will once again be needing repair work on my laptop. I’m not appy about tis at all, because I use my laptop every day and tis will be most inconvenient. tere seems to be a small problem wit te rigt sift key as well, causing an embarrassing issue with capitalization mistakes stemmed from te rigt key malfunction.
I’m not trilled wit te timing of tis eiter because little man is sick and I’ve got to take im to te doctor wic leaves little time for laptop repairs. –big sig -
I’m considering putting out an all points bulletin and informing te police. Peraps my little key has been kidnapped and is lost and scared all alone, trying to get ome rigt tis very moment? If anyone knows te wereabouts of my missing key, please inform te local autorities as soon as possible.
Tank you
I was ruthless.
I spared no feelings and accepted no excuses.
I made it clear there was to be no more crude or indecent behavior on my watch…
or else.
No wild parties, and no consorting with neighbor pairs no matter how sexy they might be.
Except for that one incident forcing me to separate the hoochie ankle straps from the Nikes… It looks like order has returned to the closet.
- Two huge hefty bags full of clothes ready for good will
- Multiple pairs of well behaved, shoes.
Who’s the boss now… Huh?
February 4 marks the 2nd annual National Wear Red Day for Women! Join the millions of women, including Toni Braxton, who will wear red to help raise awareness of heart disease as the No. 1 killer of women. Show your support of the Go Red For Women movement by wearing red and becoming a part of reducing heart disease in America’s women.
It won’t just be people dressed in red on February 4. Landmarks all over America will Go Red For Women. The Empire State Building, Graceland, Niagara Falls and the Seattle Space Needle are a few of the national sites that will be illuminated in red to raise awareness around women and heart disease.
Here’s to you SHARON
After a quick glance at my New Year's resolution list
I've decided it's time to tackle the cleaning of my closet this weekend.
This is not a task for the weak at will I’m here to tell you because I can still fit in to all of my clothes (and I’ve been collecting since college)! I might also remind you of my inability to make a decision and what a struggle it will be for me to decide what to discard, and what to keep.
Don’t even get me started on the gazillion pairs of shoes living in there either! You’ll never convince me those shoes aren’t multiplying on their own, …at night…when the door is closed, and the lights are off.
Tell me there’s not some wild monkey shoe lovin’ going on!
I walked in one morning to find the flip flops all over the floor, sexy boots doing a dry hump with the Nike’s… business pumps on top of the summer sandals, …. Next day there was a pair of open toed pumps on the shelf that I have no recollection of purchasing. Mmm hmmm.
I have a nice big walk-in style closet equipped with shelves, and lined with rows of hanging racks at varying levels.
Should be enough room for the shoe families, all of their offspring AND a new Starbucks by the time I’ve finished.
Wish me luck and ...
Decisiveness.
What I’d like you all to do before reading this post is to go to your freezer, and grab that pint of ice cream you have hidden in there behind the frozen vegetables. If you don’t have ice cream, (and you know you do) fill a glass with water and ice and let stand for 5 minutes.
Have you all done this? Good.
Now, for your next assignment, I want you to submerge your front teeth into the frozen substance, be it the ice cream or the icy water, and keep them there for the next...oh... 12 hours straight.
Do not take them out no matter what!
Are you feeling the intense sensitivity of your teeth as they contact the cold? Are you feeling the brain freeze that starts within the central core of your teeth, traveling through the nerves, up your gums and to the top of your eyebrow? Yes. Yes. That’s the sensation I’m talking about.
Ok.
Now that you're feeling my pain...
I’m back from the dentist again, with another installment of “When Suzanna Smiles”. My teeth are so sensitive that I can’t even breath as the flow of air directly across the surface of my teeth is providing the same sensation as our little teeth-in-the-ice cream experiment.
He grinded my teeth down into little points of nothing. He grinded through my teeth, past my gums, and deep into the far recesses of my skull. At least that’s what it sounded like to me from inside my head.
I’m sure he grinded for a solid hour.
I, in the meantime felt nothing… but am certain I saw and smelled smoke.
Both the seeing and smelling of smoke go against the very nature of dental hygiene to the best of my knowledge. I’m sure it was there though…
But now…
now that the Novocain has dissipated and the Dentist is well out of my swinging range… the mere feeling of my own tongue dancing across the surface of my teeth is sending me through the roof!
It seems I have traded in my TMJ for the same sensation one gets when hearing fingernails scratching down a chalk board,…
or yes
sticking your teeth in ice cream.
All that for the low low price of $12,000.
Am I gorgeous yet?
I’ve had just about enough of the winter and being sick. I’m ready to think about lovely weather, blue skies, and flip flops.
While surfing around for hot vacation spots I ran across these over water lagoon hotels in Bora Bora. They come equipped with glass bottomed floor sections where you can observe the sea life as it swims under your hut.
Works for me…
sign me up.
The flu fairy came…
And the flu fairy went.
And in her wake is a worn path between my bed and the bathroom.
I’m up and managing to rehydrate myself after 24 hours of expelling every last ounce of liquid from my body in the most of unladylike manners.
Quite frankly, I didn’t know I had it in me.
Not yet at 100%, but am working on keeping some food inside with the hopes of regaining a hint of strength.
I’m going to spend the day playing catch up between periods of sitting down to rest and drinking lots of fluids. My energy level is at minus 0 matching what appears to be the temperature outside judging from the look of things. No point in going outside in that mess today even if it is Saturday.
It would also appear that the flu fairy has left me an ugly pile of laundry to deal with today.
The hag.
Mighty rude if you ask me.
I appreciate the well wishes from everyone yesterday! It brought a ray of sunshine to my room while I was lying there feeling all pitiful and raison-like.
I’d give you all a hug and a kiss, but then you’d get my flu germs, and be forced to go disinfect or something.
I’ll spare you the misery and just say Thanks!
My cat never left my side. He’s such a pumpkin
Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog. Unfortunately I lost all of the previous comments but at least it's functioning now!
Unless of course he’s been exposed to some sort of radiation blast.
Then he’s a big hairless white rat with no eyelashes, named Cochise.
Sharon’s post today (Jan 26) made me remember the first time I ever rode a horse. It was on vacation, and we went with a group of people on a ride that started in the jungle and ended with a long gallop along a beautiful white sandy beach.
I, in my best broken Spanish, politely told the guide that I had never ridden a horse before and wanted the kindest, slowest, most sensitive caring horse in the lot, so as not to fall off and kill myself.
He understood my request to be,… “please give me a large hairless rat masquerading as a horse, that will ignore me, stop to graze on bushes off the beat and path, and do nothing it’s told” “oh yes…and after all of that? Please make it gallop with reckless abandonment across the beach for a solid 30 minutes at speeds approaching the sound barrier so that I may hang on for dear life while my ass is pummled down to a size 0.”
Muchas Gracias.
Needless to say I’ve never laughed so hard in my life! From the moment we left, or I should probably say from the moment the group left and Cochise and I hung out to lollygag around while examining the indigenous flora and fauna …, to the exhilarating beach jaunt that taught me my thigh muscles rival any vice clamp ever made.
We bonded.
Master and Beast.
I spoke to Cochise with clear English and strong confident commands. I used the rope that dangled around his head to ever so gently encourage him along the path.
“What? You mean they’re supposed to have a bit in their mouth”?
Not my Cochise. I’m pretty sure a bit would have rubbed a nasty sore on his gums where his teeth once existed.
Oh, and just a footnote? Cochise speaks Spanish. duh.
I’m sure I heard that horse laughing hystericlly at me when our trip was done.
-----------------
"A horse is a horse of course, of course.
And no-one can talk to a horse of course
that is of course
unless the horse
is the famous… uh..Señor Cochise.”.
See THIS
I promise I went to college.
I promise I even showed up for my classes on most occasions, and even passed with a B average. Really I did.
Ok…there were a few classes during spring quarter that I might have skipped, because the weather was so beautiful and the football team was meeting at the swimming pool. (You would have gone too, for the chance to see some of them without their shirts on, you’ll have to trust me on that one)
There might have been a few instances during winter quarter algebra class too, now that I think about it. The one that started at 8:00 in the morning, making it almost impossible to get out of a warm bed purely for the opportunity to write mathematical equations three pages long that perpetually left me asking... “but WHY does X=19? Who sais so”?
I promise I even graduated from college and went on to study further on a Masters and in many professional business courses. All of which I did very well in if I do say so myself.
So, it’s not my fault that math has evolved is it? That since the time I graduated, some 17 years ago, the world’s scholars have devised new and more fascinating ways to come to the same correct answer for a simple multiplication problem?
Does it mean that I’m scholastically challenged because I’ve never heard of the methods my son is bringing home from 4th grade math class?
It seems I’ve allowed my brain to marshmallow into a big bag of incompetent goo by not keeping up with today’s hip tactics for calculating 45 x 2 ? Yes silly…, I know the answer, but apparently it isn’t the answer they’re interested in anymore.
It’s the process.
I’m sorry. I can’t help but notice that somewhere along the line I missed the class where they taught multiplying by using a series of grids and boxes, columns and rows with diagonal lines running through them at each intersection to find the correct answer after adding the diagonal lines.
I bet it was that day at the beach.
I wonder if my parents are entitled to a partial refund of college tuition?
Hmmm.
It’s chilly today, a sweater is a good idea and maybe even a jacket.
I type that with a slight pang of guilt, as it seems that everyone in the uppermost part of our great Nation is buried under 10 feet of snow!
I remember mornings of scraping ice and snow off of my windshield, freezing fingers and toes, and proclaiming in my best Scarlet O’Hara voice “As God is my witness, as long as I live, I swear, I’ll never live in the cold again!”
And I moved back to the South.
We’ve got a few cold-ish days every now and then, but nothing like what some of you are experiencing. My body is simply not suited for the extreme climates. It doesn’t matter what I put on, how many layers, or what space age material my underwear is made of… If it’s below 40 degrees….you’ll find me curled up somewhere in a shivering heap of frozen wimpy.
It might be because I’m thin. It might be because I don’t have a whole lot of muscle on my frame to generate any kind of internal warmth. It doesn’t really matter… you don’t have to tell me twice to come inside for a cup of hot chocolate.
It’s cold, and I’m going to bundle up today, in my new battery operated warming socks available from your local Bass Pro Shop retailer….hunting department is my guess. I got a pair for Christmas this year and they rank right up there with the best things I’ve ever received!
Happy Monday!
I’d like to write today about this thing I like to do.
It’s called breathing.
You know,….that whole flow of oxygen thing?... in and out of your lungs, transporting life supporting O2 nourishment through the veins of our bodies?
I know you’ve all heard of it, experienced it, and probably do it rather well if I had to guess.
I’m not bad at it myself, only my quest lies in actually managing to breath through my nose as opposed to my mouth, avoiding that dumb deer-in-the-headlights, open mouthed look I sometimes have as a result of a stuffed nose.
I’d like you to take a second and read an earlier post of mine. It gives a bit of background info to support why I can’t breath through my nose in the first place, and yes…. I realize this may cause you to voluntarily remain here for more than 30 seconds but never the less, I’ll ask you to do it anyways. When you’ve done reading that entry…come back here and finish today’s post. Go ahead. I’ll wait………
Good. I’m glad you came back! Now where was I.
Oh yes.
My quest for nose breathing.
I should start by confessing an ugly addiction. While I’m on the wagon now, there once was a time when my addiction was overwhelming, and spinning helplessly out of control.
Totally disregarding the warning labels on the bottles, I became addicted…
to nose spray.
I remember the first time I used Afrin….snorting the precious substance up my nose, and feeling the wonderful euphoria of breathing effortlessly through my nostrils for the first time in my life. It was a dream come true! An exchange of oxygen so pure and clear that when the drug’s effects wore off,…
I had to have more.
So I snorted again.
I grew to depend on the substance for every breath and before I knew it, I was no different than your average street junkie, needing my fix every few hours… snorting
not one,
not two,
but three squirts of Afrin up each nostril. It wasn’t pretty.
The next thing I knew, I was stashing Afrin bottles everywhere, hiding them in my car, in the cabinets, behind books, in every room of the house because the urge to snort could hit at any time and without warning.
Eventually, I realized that my addiction was out of control and I needed help. Together with my doctor, and a 3 step program of nasal steroids, medication, and time…I weaned myself from the drug, and regained control of my life.
While the chemical addiction itself is over, the desire to breath through my nose is ever present. Allergies and itchies can be helped with antihistamines, but breathing directly through my nose remains a fond yet distant memory.
Then, one day as though the universe had divinely guided me toward a bright and beautiful light…I discovered these things called “Breath Right” strips. (Angelic music playing in the background)
Much like a springy band-aid you stick to the outside of your nose, they gently pull open the nasal passages while you sleep, allowing more space for air to enter. You’ll see them stuck on the noses of professional football players, and now… yours truly.
I don’t need to tell you how sexy it looks either!
Me…
my silky nighty…
and my Breath Right strip.
Got a visual?
Now go ahead and ask yourself…
How could you not love me?
Ahem.
I’m just beside myself with giddy this evening!
I worked on the garage today and it is now totally organized, compartmentalized, boxed up, and in some cases even labeled by holiday contents. (gives myself a round of applause and does the “you’re the boss” dance)
My garage is clean! Say it with me now brotha’s and sistah’s!
The garage is clean! Yea-yah…
My garage is so clean in fact you can actually park a full size mini van in it, and still have room to spin around with your arms wide open, while leaping naked through the air yelling “yippee”!
Not that I did that or anything, uh…, mind you, but I could have if I were the kind of person that was so inclined to do that sort of thing.
I didn’t.
I’m just sayin.
There’s space where there once was stuff.
How much stuff does a person need anyways?
When is it ok to get rid of your Cheerleading uniforms, or your high school memorabilia?
What age do you have to become to finally say, “ok…I’m probably not going to need this baby stroller any more because the kids can all walk perfectly fine with their own two legs and it’s just taking up space.
I’ll be 40, no wait, 30 again this year, so it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be having any new little bundles of joy to add to the present collection. I’d say it’s safe to go ahead and get rid of the baby stroller, and the maternity clothes, wouldn’t you?
Of course there’s all those adorable little outfits, and baby hats.
And what about that cute little onsie little man wore when he was 8 months….you know…the one with the ears and the silly bears’ face on the butt, that looked really precious when he crawled around on the ground?
I need that don’t I?
Sure I do. Let’s put that one back in the box.
No really….put the baby clothes down and step away from the box!
I’m just going to keep a few things.
I promise.
It’s hard. Life can be measured in so many ways. We tend to hang on to our things…
our “stuff”
because it represents where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Memories flood to the forefront and we relive the precious moments of our lives when we revisit our stuff, like when our babies were actually still babies.
I know I can’t take my stuff with me when I die.
But it's all I've got and I can still keep some of it in a box.
A box to take out and savor when the mood hits
and I need a baby fix, or a smile,
to remember.
