Susan likes to see her children getting bigger. She never wanted to keep them little like some mothers she knows. She never engaged in any boo hoo this is my last baby behavior because it's silly. She liked watching them figure stuff out. Giving up the breastfeeding was a little sad, but she wouldn't want to still be breastfeeding them. Plus, the breasts were sort of taken out of circulation for other things during that time period if you know what she means.
And you do.

She likes that they have lives away from her, relationships and experiences that belong only to them. She wants to see what they'll do because she trusts them. To a point. She knows that  when she's not screaming at two lazy kids to do their homework, feed the dog and pick their sh*t up from the livingroom floor, she's forming adults.
Susan accepts that they're not as cute as they used to be. They used to twirl and sing and jump and talk, and get lice and pee in their beds and trade away their brand new birthday toys to the kid on the bus and spill nail polish on their feet eight hours a day. Adorable.

Now they're sarcastic, dramatic and loud when they're not being totally silent. They're within sight of bringing home boyfriends or girlfriends and smelling like pot.
Susan's waiting in the dark lacing up the gloves.


Susan had the most delightfully entertaining conversation with Wild Bill this afternoon.

Earlier in the week he sent Susan a series of texts related to something about which he was a little apprehensive.
A few days had passed so Susan sent him a follow up text while she was running an errand. Wild Bill responded immediately! with question marks? and exclamation points! and wanted to know why she was asking?! Sensing some underlying hysteria Susan thought it would be fun to mess around with her brother a bit and was formulating an appropriate text when he called.

Without breaking any HIPAA laws Susan can safely reveal that Wild Bill's not like regular people his age. He's smart without being mature and everything about him is extreme; his views, his humor, the tone of his voice, his recreational activities, everything.
He's consistently maintained the same personality characteristics since he was five and can be tons of fun until one reaches their saturation point.
He has no fear of consequences and the more you try to get him to do something the less likely he is to do it, that's why it was so funny for Susan to find him in the middle of a full on panic about the possibility of impending consequences.

In the past he's told her I always bring a book to court in case I end up in jail.

Wild Bill couldn't wait for Susan to text him back because he was hiding behind the sofa and had to know right that instant what she was talking about. Susan assured him that one Dumb Yankee Assh*le didn't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world and he should redirect his time toward less paranoid pursuits. During the course of their conversation Wild Bill tried not to have a heart attack and Susan roared with laughter at her brother's expense then spent the rest of the afternoon with a happy smile.


Susan found out that she'll be unable to make the acquaintance of Bossy during her road trip through Susan's home state two weeks from now. Que drag.
Susan was apprehensive about being immersed in bloggy peers to begin with because she's still in fifth grade and everyone's better than she is. But, she was going to ask two old pals Margarita and On The Rocks With A Rim to accompany her just in case. Oh well, she'll have to see them another time.

So, what has everyone else been up to?
Susan's been sick which she knows is boring to read about because Sevedra told her. Alright!
Not another word about how she still can't f*cking SMELL or TASTE anything after an eternity! Oy, you've heard your last complaint from her on that topic.

Susan has been aware of American Idol noises coming from the living room. American Idol has never been watched in her house until recently. She thinks the daughter has been turning it on just to bug her mother because how could anyone possibly enjoy watching such an insipid show? Even an eleven year old? Susan, still perplexed by where Seacrest came from, googled him and found he originated from one of those Amazing Sea Monkeys kits in the back of a magazine.

Over the past two weeks Susan has received her music CDs from Dawn, and Meg and Cutie Judy! Susan has not yet listened to all of them because she's been a little funky, and not in the George Clinton way. She wants to have an open accepting brain to receive the musical gifts that were made for her. She doesn't want to run the risk of thinking I hate this shit, she wants to hear each song the way her lovely bloggy CD makers hear them. In the meantime she has made 2/3 of the reciprocal CDs but has not yet mailed anything.
What a loser.

She's getting ready to be a productive person again.

Susan's also been contemplating her impending birthday, not the age, just the commemoration. How does a person celebrate a milestone, alright fifty, on a budget without looking cheap?
Thus far she's come up with NO KIDS, especially hers.
The rest is under development.


A week later and Susan is still sick, she even went home early on Friday to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon. Susan loves naps as long as her brain doesn't use them as an opportunity to remind her of all the bad things that could happen in the world, or specifically to her. But, if she's living a healthy life and her anxiety is in check she loves naps. There's no day that can't be improved by a nap sez the husband and he's right.

Susan's kids are sick too, they came back from the doctor with antibiotics for bronchitis and stayed home from school for two days. The doctor also prescribed an inhaler for her son even though he wasn't having any trouble breathing, but because the doctor mentioned it the kid wanted it. Then the husband climbed on the inhaler bandwagon, which is unusual because he doesn't normally get involved in stupid arguments. Susan observes a zero tolerance for stupid arguments, unless she's arguing that position, and quickly shut them down. No inhaler.

Susan made another batch of her white bread chili and since she still can't taste or smell she doubled everything hot & spicy. Pow! It blowtorched her tongue and cleared up her stuffy nose by the second bite. Other than the sensation of heat and a faint acknowledgment of cumin, she couldn't taste it.

Susan has a recipe she'd like to share for home made Italian Cough Syrup which is favored by the daughter.
No pencils necessary, it's easy to remember:

1 tblsp LEMON JUICE (as an antiseptic)
1 tblsp OLIVE OIL (coats the throat)
Mix together, shake, sip by teaspoonfuls as needed.
If you're phlegmmy then add SALT as an expectorant.

God bless!


Susan has nothing to blahg about. Nothing.
There's not a thought in her head.
Nothing interesting has happened. She's bored.
Her blogging has been erratic. She still can't taste or smell and now her throat hurts. What a cruddy St. Paddy's day.
Susan is overpowered by funk.


Susan's had a little cold this week, nothing terrible but she can't smell anything or taste her food.
This morning when the husband mistakenly put sugar in her coffee she drank it instead of pouring it down the drain. She made a pot of chili with extra garlic and chipotle peppers but it may as well have been white bread.
Even her dog, whose smell Susan always has to wash off her hands after playful interaction, doesn't smell.

Susan thanks everyone for accepting this in lieu of a real post.


Susan's hand shot out and grabbed a jar of marshmallow fluff as she walked down the marshmallow fluff aisle in the supermarket last week. It wasn't her regular supermarket which made her sort of disoriented and led to the suspension of her regular rules about such things. Marshmallow fluff is outrageously sweet until you're in the mood for it then it's sugary bliss. And when paired with peanut butter a certain TWISTED person could sit alone at the dinner table every night with a jar of each and a spoon and get in trouble.
Susan's in trouble.
She's been eating sweet things
which means she's been craving sweet things
which means she's been eating sweet things.
Vicious cycle thy name is sugar; beautiful white gritty sugar spun into Fruit Loops and miniature Almond Joys
and red pepper jelly.

Susan hasn't grown out of her pants yet but she's been cutting off the circulation near her belly button.
Tonight she ate a grapefruit.
Tomorrow she'll start writing everything down and calculating points. But she's not going to meetings.
No f*cking way.


Susan was sitting around on Sunday morning lamenting the lack of anything to blahg about when, on his way to the toilet, her husband asked her if she'd seen the recent Architectural Digest.

I threw it out.

Susan loves magazines because they bring together her two favorite activities; looking at pictures and sitting. However, Architectural Digest is big, shiny and soul-less,
if it were lying face down in a muddy puddle in the street Susan would jump on it and keep going.

Architectural Digest made its way into Susan's life completely uninvited one year ago when the rotten publishing company that killed off her beloved Domino magazine substituted it for the balance of the subscription period. Oh, Domino!
Susan still has her last issue from March of 2009 wrapped in the original plastic propped up on a table surrounded by candles, crystals and incense.

Domino was all cheery sunshine filled with colors and ideas that Susan could incorporate into her own home if she felt like it, and sometimes she did. Domino was pure potential wrapped up in sedentary joy.

Never once did Susan rip a page out of that inspirationaly-bereft other magazine for future reference.

All this thinking about that other magazine drove Susan to her breaking point she and called up the rotten publishing company's 800 number to tell them that she couldn't stand their magazine and to please refrain from sending her any more. They were very polite and asked her if she'd like to replace it with another publication or would she prefer a refund? Susan said that she did like their Lucky magazine even though she was twenty years beyond their target demographic. They said that they would be happy to make the substitution and even tacked on another six months for all Susan's pain and suffering.


Susan's good mood at having Dawn and Cutie Judy and Meg send her some music has been temporarily obliterated by having to make nervous poops all the time because she got in trouble at Acme Sweatshop.

Susan works sixteen hours a day and sleeps on a little cot in the back but her boss still isn't happy with Susan's work. Susan understands that she's always in the middle of her own conflicts so she's not going to blame anything on anyone else, she's just going to figure it out. Until she does, she'll be sitting in the potty feeling like a failure.

In the midst of all this personal misery Susan missed her first bloggy anniversary! Was it really a year ago that her little Twisted Susan was all cute and brand new? Feel free to check out her virgin post, it's not very exciting but it was a start.

And, Susan's not done campaigning for her musical reciprocity project. She went to the library today, paid her $4.65 in fines and came home with a crap load of CDs, didn't like any of them and forgot to look in the magazine recycling bin, drats.