Susan's husband picked up the crappiest assortment of Halloween candy, and it's not because there was no good candy available, he just likes his candy gummy, sticky, chewy and crappy.

Twizzlers, Tootsie Rolls, Skittles and sticky roll-up Jolly Ranchers. Susan hadn't encountered such an awful line up of sweets since the sesame seed candies flecked with Pall Mall tobacco that lived in the bottom of her Grandmother's purse.

A week ago Susan scored half a bag of York Peppermint Patties from a social worker acquaintance, they're not even in her top ten but she took them because they're made of SUGAR. She keeps them in the wee fridge in her bomb shelter office and eats one every mid-morning then waits for the warm sugar love to envelope her, make everything all sparkly, then depart leaving her happier than she was a minute earlier.

New topic. Susan signed up for November's NaBloPoMo even though she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have time to do it and definitely doesn't have the brain power to fill one paragraph a day for the month. Come watch her fail, won't you?

I'd shine by the light of the unknown moment

Yesterday Susan was minding her own business when she was handed a bag of fresh caught fish packed in ice. She took possession like a crackhead grabbing a pipe then googled what to do with it. She determined that it was a striped bass; cleaned, devoid of any smell and gorgeous.

She threw it in a hot cast iron pan to crisp it up then flipped it over and served it for dinner with polenta and a salad.

Susan spent a sunny Sunday in Brooklyn, USA with all her cousins, and her cousins' cousins, and a few people she didn't know celebrating at a surprise birthday party.

Here's the birthday boy with his old ball & chain:
Here's some youthful guests spelling out the name of a garden tool:
Here's someone demonstrating how to press the police button:
Seriously though.
Cousin Lisa threw a wonderfully simple and happy party in a little neighborhood joint filled with hugging, flowers, pumpkins, gratitude, fettucine served from a Parmesan wheel, open windows, wine, a duo of well behaved babies, cheesecake and a big bowl of fresh whipped cream.

Cousins Susie and Sue discussed the heartbreak of raising under-communicative boys who eventually move away to college as well as how to position one's head so that a turkey neck is minimized in photographs.

Susan's eldest niece described being lectured on how to lock a door by the person who walked in on her sitting on the toilet.

Afterward, everyone put on their flats and went down to look at the Brooklyn Bridge:

It was a good day.

Susan's daughter casually revealed a shocking detail about herself, something so foreign to Susan that a week later she still can't fully understand it.
Susan's daughter doesn't like the Fall.
Heavens! This is not how she was brought up, Susan wants to be very clear about that.

Of course the kid was peppered with questions, perhaps she was angry about the end of summer and taking it out on the Fall? 
No, she just has no use for it. 
Susan can understand not liking mums, 5 pm darkness or having to answer the door a thousand times on Halloween, but how can she not like the crisp season of hunkering down? How could this alien being created inside Susan's body not have a primal response to the earthy, sweet smell of decay?

To the further bewilderment of her mother the kid admitted that she liked Winter better than Spring. Winter and Summer were her favorites with no particular preference beyond whichever season was current.

To recap;
Fall sucks
Winter is indistinguishable from Summer
Spring was barely mentioned

Susan's faithful bloggy pals may be assuming that Susan's Alien Daughter has become sort of contrarian teenaged assh*le. No, this is not true. She is a delight! 
She likes Sour Skittles and clouds and keeping her room a horrible mess. 
She shares things with her brother even though he never reciprocates. 
She says thank you whenever money is spent on her, even if it's a dollar.
She's not shy about pulling out the pickle face when unhappy.
She's a funny, engaging Autumn averse companion for her mother.

Susan must make the Alien Daughter love the Fall. Last weekend  she was rushed to a pumpkin farm with minimal success. This weekend she'll be exposed to an outdoor fall festival in a little seaside hamlet. Next weekend will be a trip to The Cloisters just because Susan's in the mood to go up there.

Susan is currently accepting suggestions on all facets of child-rearing because she has also learned that her son does not believe in God.

HAPPY Birthday, Wild Bill

It's a BIG one, just like him.

Susan's hairdresser has a fig tree in her yard and guess what? Susan showed up for her appointment and was delighted to find a bowl full of figs waiting for her!

Then by mistake she got her hair dyed something other than its usual shade of red.

Susan first became aware of that possibility while her head was in the sink and heard the hairdresser remark in a slightly worried tone Oh, that's dark. 

Susan would categorize it as intense.

Honestly, as long as it's not gray she doesn't care.

She brought the figs home and was forced to turn them into jam to keep the daughter from eating them all.

Susan took a sick day yesterday.
She stayed in bed late, ate a toasted bagel saturated with butter for breakfast, didn't shower, restrung some necklaces, brought her autumn wardrobe up from downstairs, took the dog for a long walk and baked a Bisquick dessert. She also moved her fig tree all around the living room.
Over the weekend Susan had the potted fig tree brought indoors where it doesn't fit anywhere. It's not one of those upright trees, it's more lateral, like an octopus. Every few days she drags it to a different location then calls the daughter in see what she thinks. Currently, it's back in the first spot she put it. She'll move it around again this weekend.