Karma blew Susan a kiss and arranged for her to be able to sit on the couch and spend ninety minutes with her new dandy best friend, Ruggles Of Red Gap.
No one except the dog was interested in watching a movie from 1935 about a English butler who ends up in the 'land of slavery' after his boss loses him in a poker game. So, Susan snuggled up to her favorite family member and watched an adorably charming Charles Laughton reinvent himself.
The End.

Sunday morning Susan got her family out of the house by 10:30 am and spent the day at the most wonderful place in the world, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Susan can't f*cking stand the sight of the husband right now. The whole f*cking day he's been irritating her in an undefined but very real way and she'll blowtorch the f*cking house if she hears his voice.

She first notice that he wasn't looking at her this morning when she spoke to him. What the f*ck's wrong with you? He didn't answer her inquiry but that was alright because she wasn't interested in his answer anyway.

They got into a little silent angry thing when he said that he was going to pick up the daughter at Brittney's house. The husband is always saying Brittney when he means Marina, which is where the daughter spent last night. Susan assumed that he was headed to the wrong house and told him so only to find that the daughter really was at Brittney's house. How the f*ck is Susan supposed to know anything if no one tells her and you can't tell the difference between Brittney and Marina anyway, assh*le.

A little later, after Susan mis-heard a portion of an anecdote the husband half mumbled to her he adopted a bristly demeanor.

The gloves came off during a conversation about what time they wanted to leave in the morning,
Susan suggested 10:30,
and the husband smirked.

Susan's response to the husband sounded similar to the way Kate Gosselin used to speak to her former spouse only with a lot of cursing followed by total silence.
All night.

Nineteen years ago Susan suggested that her little sister, brother in law and cousin Lisa accompany her to a movie. Little did she know that this Mad Max knockoff starring Rutger Hauer would win her an award as the chooser of the worst movie ever. Susan's companions didn't even wait for the movie to end before they presented her with a plaque, organized a parade and carried her around on their shoulders then made fun of her for two decades.

Even though their assessment was correct Susan's personal favorite most awful movie had already come out two years earlier, again cousin Lisa was present as witness. That one was a first date love story set against nuclear war and was totally unbelievable because Dr. Mark Green was the leading man.

Susan can tolerate a number of unpleasant things; dog sh*t in the grooves of her snow boots, enthusiastically chatty co-workers, having to dry herself off with the bath mat but she cannot endure bad movies.

She and the husband have a lengthy history of walking out as soon as a movie bores them. They even walked out on Sting in a very expensive concert although it serves Susan right for being there in the first place.

Susan does not watch bastardized Hollywood versions of foreign films.
Susan will fistfight her way out of a romantic comedy.
Susan has napped through every movie she ever took the kids to. Every one.

During her last visit Susan's mother brought a number of movies popular with people who don't care what they watch including one with two surefire elements for a new contender; Richard Gere and Diane Lane. Susan's sorry to report that it wasn't bad enough even though everyone broke out in hoots and hollers when Richard Gere died at the end.

The husband planned the most marvelous gift for his favorite valentine, Susan. He got up early, went to Home Depot & purchased whatever was in the bag that he used to fix the bathroom sink. Susan assisted him by stuffing a pillow under his head, locating a channel lock and holding a screwdriver in place for a few minutes. When he was done people were once again able to brush their teeth & wash their sudsy spit down the drain.
As if this weren't a wonderful enough gift, he accompanied Susan food shopping then made meatballs just the way she likes them.

Susan spent the day in her PJs, a combination of the
t-shirt she wore yesterday underneath her work clothes, minus a brassiere, plus sweatpants.
Very comfortable for having nowhere to go.
Every once in a while the son would come in to bore her with details of the game he was playing and Susan noticed that he'd check out her t-shirt lightening fast without missing a beat of his monotonous, uh, monologue.

Susan just fills out her B-cup and that's only because she's gained some weight in her forties, she used to be able to go without a brassiere completely, but no more.
An unrestrained B-cup is a little sloppy but it isn't going to distract anyone for more than a split second.

Up until two years ago Susan used to walk around the house without clothes, not in front of windows or company, usually only because she was interrupted after her shower, before she got dressed.
Her kids didn't pay any attention, they'd seen it before.

Years ago when Susan was pregnant she thought about the type of mom she wanted to be. She wasn't warm & cuddly, she was a little stiff and had personal space issues.
Susan wanted to locate her inner hippie, she wanted to be comfortable with her unclothed body and all natural-ish. She wanted to be like the pictures in Joy Of Sex only with babies and motherhood and stuff.

Susan figured out how to create a much less stiff self and after a period of total discomfort with breast feeding found that she kind of liked it. She was much better being the mother of toddlers than she was as the mother of infants even though she let her son eat a screw and her daughter fall off the dining room table. She liked being naked when the kids were little and found it funny when they'd have entire conversations while staring at her pubic hair. Slowly they got older and still didn't give Susan a second look if they found her naked in the kitchen making coffee before work.

One day she mentioned this to her social worker friend and OMG, Susan had better quit that right now! because she was in danger of making her kids all twitchy and ax-murdery. Later when she told her husband about the ridiculous opinion of her social worker friend he agreed.
So, that was the end of Naked Susan.

Susan's always on the prowl for a good blog,
kind of like hers only interesting and funny with big words and smart ideas. Unfortunately there's some powerful stinky blogs out there.
Stinky winky.

Susan declines to badmouth all the moms hitting the keyboard for obvious reasons but there's plenty of boring family blogs with misplaced apostrophes;
Hello From The Smith's. Ugh.
Double Boring Wedding blogs, we're in love!
Twenty-Somethings Living Life to the Fullest blogs.
Let Me Bore You With My Political Opinion blogs.
I'm Me And There's No One Else Like Me! blogs.

All the musings and journeys and ramblings and musings and random ravings and musings and Carpe Diems gave Susan a stomach ache.

Susan was reading Deidre's blog and totally stole her idea, um, was inspired to write about her own first crush. Susan was already thinking about using her first crush as fodder for a BLAHg post anyway but since she told her fourth grade flashback story last week she didn't want to tell two fourth grade stories so close together.
But, she's going to.

Sidebar: Susan's pretty sure that fourth grade was when she figured out that teachers generally call on the kids who don't make eye contact. So, whenever Susan didn't know an answer she looked right at the teacher and was spared.

One day a new girl was introduced to the class. Lynn.
Lynn sat next to Susan.
Susan shared her textbook with Lynn.
Lynn invited Susan to come to her house after school. Alright!
Susan would escape the monotony of her family for an entire afternoon.

Susan can remember the details of Lynn's house to this day; center hall colonial, front door opening to a black and white tiled floor, sunny kitchen in back, a spinning wheel in the livingroom, a big golden dog and a scary third floor.
Everyone in the family was very nice to Susan and even asked her to say grace at dinner. Say what?
Susan sat with her head down until someone bailed her out by reciting a simple prayer.

Susan and Lynn became quick friends and stayed that way for a while. Little by little other classmates elbowed their way in, Susan didn't mind until it became obvious that Lynn preferred another's company.

Susan was miserable and tried to regain her position by hounding her former best friend into submission. When that didn't work she'd cry, think about what fun secrets Lynn was sharing with her new best friend and cry some more. All her weekends were spent wallowing in her personal pit of agonizing sorrow until she eventually decided to knock it off.
Later when Susan embarked on a career of being rejected by boys on whom she had crushes she recognized the feeling; it was Lynn all over again.

Fourteen years ago Susan was sitting on a toilet with instructions to pee into a little cup. She was doubled over in so much pain that she couldn't even say
'Arrrrgggghhhh!' when she heard a knock on the door. Neither could she turn her head in that direction when an unsuspecting stranger walked in on her.
Or the next stranger or the stranger after that.

How is it possible to be in so much pain and not be dying? Holy crap! It's like all her years of menstral cramps were rolled up into a single contraction reoccuring every five minutes.

Eventually Susan got a stretchy waist band monitor strapped to her belly and found out that this crushing pain was normal for the circumstance. After pushing for three hours she had a baby. Susan didn't even think to ask what type of baby it was, she just asked for a can of Coke.

Three mornings later she woke up in her own bed, tiptoed to the basinette at the other end of the room and was almost suprised to find her teeny baby still there, right where she left him. She knew logically that he would be there but until she peered in and made visual contact she feared that he might have evaporated. This was made possible by a grant from Demerol, hormones, lack of sleep and regular old paranoia.

Keep your eyes peeled for related future posts;
Susan sits around with her top off all day long breastfeeding
Susan has a crush on her OB-GYN
Susan can't get out of the house before 4pm
Susan has another baby and learns how to cook.

In honor of Susan's son's fourteenth birthday this weekend here's fourteen things she likes about him:

• He's not mean
• He eats his vegetables
• He doesn't take crap from people
• Often he's cooperative
• He gets right out of bed when his alarm goes off
• He tells the truth much of the time
• His toilet cleaning skills are improving
• He's respectful
• He got into a tussle coming to the aid of a girl
• He's trustworthy within reason
• He's still affectionate, unlike his sister
• He likes to smell good
• He can be funny when he's not just making noise
• He's been the most delightful company since 1996

Saturday morning Susan's family did something they never did before, ever. They got up, brushed their teeth and went to the mall. Now, Susan's been to the mall with the daughter and she's pretty sure that the husband has been to the mall with the son, but they've never gone together in a pack.

They divided by gender as soon as they got there and went in different directions. Susan was happy to follow the middle school daughter around as she looked for clothes. She favors a wholesome sporty style so there's no arguing with her mother over fit or length and there's no boobs yet to hang out.

Susan spent the afternoon immersed in pre-teen girls, most shopping with their mothers, and saw that they all shared the same body language. First, everybody played with their hair. Many made eye contact but held their heads slightly downward and most moved as though they didn't want to disturb the space around them. One looked disapprovingly at another's choice in footwear, but Susan does that too.
Sidebar: Susan recalls eyeballing a fellow class mother in cleavage and heels during a trip to the ecology center at the local beach.

The son only needed wrestling gear and tee shirts with skulls, so he & the husband were done quickly. Most of their time was spent on comfortable seating in the middle of the mall. This didn't stop the son from texting
r u almost done? repeatedly making Susan move that much more slowly.

Susan was driven out of a stinky specialty bath and body shop by the intolerable stench of too many candles, plug in fragrances and lotions. She tasted the smell in her mouth.

Susan drank a seltzer while watching her family eat Food Court food then broke free long enough to fall in love with a pair of tall appliqued boots that didn't come in her size. She consoled herself by purchasing Patti Smith's book, and her beloved expensive decorating magazine then ran into a favorite girlfriend while standing on line.

On the way home there was a trip through Trader Joe's where Susan stocked up on a six month supply of Spicy Peach Salsa as well as bags and bags and bags of frozen dumplings.

The day ended with double sleepovers allowing Susan & the husband to escape to cousin Lisa's house for the game of unspeakable fun, Taboo where Susan discovered something that the husband can NOT do; give clues.

Lucky Dog

Susan's modest fan base is well aware that Susan likes to bake. Susan is in the habit of keeping a decorative box filled with biscotti for her personal dunking enjoyment. Biscotti is an outstanding cookie choice because they're good enough for company, you can't tell when they get stale and no one in her house ever paid attention to them. Until recently.

Susan has a short repertoire of biscotti she bakes.
No one gave them a second thought until she added chocolate biscotti with cranberries (feel free to refer back to this post for the recipe, it's very easy) and found her family lined up outside the oven. Of course Susan likes to see her family enjoy the proceeds of her baking talents but she gets TWISTED out of her f*cking skull when they eat everything up in one day. Susan has no patience for folks who can't control themselves and this goes double for the husband and kids.

Anyway, she shared her thoughts on portion control in her b*tchy mommy voice then removed the cookies from her family. She hid them and then was forced to change the hiding spot everyday because the kids have plenty of time to look for cookies after school and the husband can reach all the high spots. Unfortunately hiding spots are in short supply so Susan found herself stuffing the cookies into drawers where extra towels are stored.

Susan baked some chocolate biscotti tonight. As she put the ingredients together she included two teaspoons of cayenne pepper. Susan likes her chocolate spicy while her family does not.

Twice this week Susan has had a kind of flashback to fourth grade, she's only approximating that it was fourth grade, it could could have been fifth grade. Or third.
She thinks it was initially triggered by the fluorescent lights at work combined with the rain and maybe a teeny bit of deep internal anxiety. Anyway, her flashback came on and ended within a few seconds and took the form of a feeling combined with a memory, like she slipped back into herself as a kid.
The memory was of a trip her class had taken. Nothing really happened; everybody got on a bus, went someplace, sat around & went home. And they all got airline pilot wings in a little manila envelope.
Susan found herself experiencing a long ago insecurity, different from the way any current insecurity feels, and a little sadness. This was accompanied by a blurry mental photograph.

The second flashback was triggered by a lunchroom smell. It came and went so fast Susan couldn't identify it but she was catapulted back to the East Lake Avenue Elementary school. She let her mind wander to the classmate who ate egg salad every day for years, the ammonia that the lunch ladies used to wipe down the tables, her brownie troop meetings, the Mary Hopkins record she liked.

Susan was raised in a fend for yourself climate, things weren't all warm & cuddly like today. Teachers didn't fall over themselves to make sure kids were happy, Susan was scolded once for wearing a store bought Halloween costume to school instead of a home made one.

She remembers going to the beach with someone's mother and coming home fried to a crisp. How do you let a long white stringbean of a kid with orange hair get redder and redder without grabbing her to sit in the shade or slop on suntan lotion? There was plenty of suntan lotion in 1969 because Susan's mother used to bathe her in it. Well, Susan doesn't want to turn this into a grade school bitch fest although she's got more than enough material.

Susan had a previous flashback experience while she was sitting in the car listening to the radio. A song came on that reminded her in a very vivid way of the double married boyfriend period in her life. The feeling disappeared almost as soon as it came but Susan tried to hold on to it. She hoped to use the song to channel herself during that time and figure out why she found such an insane lifestyle attractive. She still doesn't know.

Susan worked up a total sweat trying to figure out how to add the little Bossy's (No) Book Tour square. She's draped across a chair fanning herself right now.

Susan is displaying an unusual amount of faith by thinking that she can even get out of the house to go socializing with a bunch of bloggers. And, it's quite possible that she'll have nothing clever to say when she gets there. Sure, her BLAHg's filled with plenty of nonsense if you like reading about meatball hysteria and mangled grammar and bags of Craisins. Susan hopes that you're thinking; but Susan, you're so fabulous and funny! While that's true, she'd like to hip you to her secret weapon; editing. Susan edits the living crap out of everything she writes because she's not this entertaining right out of the gate. Really.

What happens if she's in a bad mood on blogger night? Susan's got some effective tricks for bad moods, but bad moods are still organic & take on a life of their own. She never knows what she's up against until she's up against it.

Neither does Susan know anything technical about blogging. It's tough enough to weave her magic using words, she doesn't have the mental capacity to include pictures. Oy, pictures bring a whole other level of involvement that Susan doesn't have time for.

What if the other bloggers want to talk politics? Susan truly isn't interested in hearing anyone's political opinion, plus she gets Libya and Iran confused all the time although she knows where Yemen is thanks to a map from Doctors Without Borders.
Susan's tuckered out from all her negative projection.

The husband makes a pot of meatballs & sauce every other week. While they're still hot he runs half over to the neighbor's and comes back home to feed the other half to a table full of people. Leftovers are turned into lasagne.

The husband made Susan fall in love with his meatballs years ago. She and the meatballs were very happy until the husband had a little fling with a few of Carmine's meatballs and everything fell apart. Susan didn't understand the fuss, Carmine's meatballs were no big deal but the husband disagreed and set on a path to replicate them.
Susan was mad!
She yelled any time he made a stupid pot of sub-par meatballs. She refused to eat them.
She made mean comments about them.
She argued with everyone who said they liked them.
This went on for months until the husband finally said alright already! and agreed to make them only every third pot and to let Susan know well in advance.
Susan found this arrangement agreeable.

Now things are back to normal, the husband has given up his quest to make ordinary meatballs, Susan has simmered down and everything's good in the kitchen again.

Susan has been having trouble with her words lately.
Like, for the last thirteen and 11/12ths years.
She remembers the day she couldn't summon ceiling fan and found herself pointing upward demanding that someone turn on that thing that twirls around!

Sometimes she comes up with words which are similar in definition and other times it's words that sound similar. Sometimes all they share is the same first letter.
Susan finds it easier to start from scratch and describe the thing she is trying to remember rather than search her brain for the word. This doesn't happen just every once in a while, it happens every day. Every day a few words temporarily evaporate and leave Susan with an empty space where they used to be.

She's good with extrapolate and pontificate and obfuscate. She can play Bananagrams standing on her head.
She can read until the cows come home but she can't think of the word tomato.

For the better part of the last decade Susan and her little sister, their cousins and aunt have maintained a Superbowl ritual; they ignore it completely and go shopping at Macy's in Herald Square.
Macy*s is amazingly gigantic, totally immense.
Susan and her aunt used to work for unrelated agencies in the same building located down the block and became very well acquainted with which floor held what and where the sale racks were. That was a magical time for Susan who was fond of running over to pick up a pound of dark chocolate almond bark whenever she felt like it.
Whenever she felt like it!
Anyway. Last year Susan had to beg off because she was unemployed and didn't have the necessary money for train fare. That was sad because Susan didn't even have to shop to enjoy herself, she just looked forward to spending the day with her cousins. This year will be just as sad,
but it's not the lack of cash that's ruining her plans.
Her son's fourteenth birthday falls on that Sunday and there's no way she can use her hatred of all things football to get out of the house.
Susan hates the Super Boring Bowl like crazy. Last year she tried to read the newspapers through it but still managed to catch her family laughing like a bunch of a**holes at the grotesquely un-funny commercials.
For a few minutes she thought that the entire country had conspired to mess around with her because how could anybody think this sh*t is funny?
However, there was a little bright spot during halftime when she saw Bruce Springsteen teabag a cameraman.

For a half hour Susan was in a room with a television that was tuned to American Idol. This isn't something that's ever on in her house. Ever. She's familiar with the judging panel through cultural osmosis but she's never seen them in action. She will admit that she liked the juxtaposition of a cockney accent against the android perfection of Victoria Beckham. Or V.
Susan was struck by the the lack of depth in their commentary and their solicitous and superficial manner. The girls sort of nod their head to indicate that they're grooving along with the music.
And, where'd Ryan Seacrest come from anyway? It's as if he was left on our doorstep ten years ago and then mutated into the form we see today.
Alright, that's enough. Susan's done thinking about them.

Susan got the opportunity to see a Broadway play over the weekend, it was very bright and musical and Susan was all set to take a nap but the seats were too small.

Halfway through the first act a new character took the stage, he was very average in every way except for
his package which was unrestrained beneath woolen leggings. Susan's eyes did that cartoon thing where they pop out of their sockets and get really big like balloons then get sucked back in.

For the rest of the time the actor was onstage, which was most of the play, Susan could see nothing else but the dangly thang. The jiggly wiggly.

A chain reaction of thoughts started knocking each other over in Susan's head like; Was this on purpose? How could it not be? Did Gilbert & Sullivan endorse this unexpected twist? And, why wasn't anybody in charge of monitoring underpants?

The TWISTED Susan Family Annual Update

OMG, it felt like last year went by so fast when in reality it took an entire year to drag its sorry ass across the finish line.
Things started out with lots of excitement;
Susan was unemployed, her car got repossessed and the family lost their medical benefits. Wow!
But, laughter is the best medicine and, boy did they laugh. LOL!
Did they let any of this stop them from going on vacation? No they didn't. Twelve hours in the car got them a long weekend in North Carolina visiting the husband's daughters.
Susan knows that she's kind of making fun by insinuating that this may have been a less than glamorous trip.
She wants to say it loud & proud that she had a terrific time and hopes to be invited back again, although it would be nice to fly there.
Like all proud homeowners behind on their mortgage payments there were home improvement projects during the year. The husband hung some shelves and Susan bought new towels. They're looking forward to Phase II when they repaint a room.
Let's not forget about the kids, they had their own busy schedules of going to school followed by a summer of putting pizza rolls in the microwave and watching TV.
Susan served as juror number 6 during the home invasion trial of a drug dealer. She loved jury duty because it was like criminal justice theatre. Plus, she had nothing else to do and they paid her $40 a day.
There were blessings for the family too, and everyone knows just how much Susan adores the word blessings. She can't hear it enough.
Blessings.
In an economically desolate environment Susan got herself a new job. And eventually a new car payment. And payroll deducted medical benefits. And contributions to a 401(k). Then the IRS played a little trick on them, but it was all in good fun and everyone had a big laugh. LOL again!
There was a visit from Wild Bill which is always fun and frustrating and maybe a little chaotic. This trip he delivered his daughter safely back to her New York family.
To stay, hooray!
The year ended with a coupla things and blah, blah, blah.
The end.

Fish sticks and spaghetti was Susan's most hated childhood dinner. She still doesn't eat spaghetti.
Why?
Because of her mother!

Susan's curious about your most hated childhood meal, won't you tell her all about it?
She even changed the settings on her comment moderation so now everybody can comment without having to jump through hoops.

Comment away, darlings.

Susan's mother did not like what Susan wrote in her previous post and pointed out a pair of inaccuracies. Susan told her mother I took it easy on you knowing that there was so much more she could share about the meals of her childhood but will have to wait until her parents are dead.
Inaccuracy #1: Susan's mother never used a crockpot, it was a pressure cooker.
Inaccuracy #2: Cream of Mushroom soup was only used in the Tuna Casserole which Susan was able to keep from spitting out but her little sister was not.
Some nights they have entire conversations in the hot tub just about Tuna Casserole.
Susan is sorry that her mother was unhappy and hopes that this has helped a little bit.

What does Susan have against her crock pot?
(Thanks for asking, beechie).
To provide the answer Susan has to travel way back to the '70s and describe the sort of food her mother made her eat. Stew-like things with soft carrots, soft potatoes and stringy meat all held together by cream of mushroom soup. Susan used to excuse herself from the kitchen table to go spit her dinner into the toilet. There were plenty of corn, peas and diced vegetables slopped out of cans, the peas even smelled like pee. Every dinner was followed up by a dessert of fruit cocktail and three kids fighting over the lone cherry in each can.

Susan's pal Cyndi (yes, she really spells her name that way) always had her crockpot humming on the kitchen counter. Susan liked the idea of being removed from dinner preparation but couldn't stomach the idea of soft meat. And, she certainly couldn't have her children complaining about their dinners forty years later.

This notwithstanding, Susan bought a crockpot in a fit of doomed enthusiasm and immediately started looking for recipes that didn't involve red meat. Chicken thighs were promoted as being more flavorful, so she used them and learned that she doesn't like her chicken squishy and fatty. Cousin Lisa provided a recipe for pork chops crockpotted in V8 with onions and potatoes. That was nice of her is Susan's only comment. Chicken crockpotted in salsa and peanut butter ended up in the garbage, bypassing the table completely.
Susan might consider crockpotting some rice pudding.
Dare she?

This new year Susan resolves to;
Care more about world events
Find her silver hoop earring
Make some CDs for the car
Find her black and tan gloves
Try tomato juice again
Be a better person
Watch that Netflix movie she got in November
Think about using the treadmill
Serve antipasto more often
Use her creative abilities to make money
Give the crockpot away
Show her children as much love as she shows the dog.

Susan had no expectations that the new year would be any different than the old year. She understands that this is a very pessimistic attitude but she's been riding a bad mood for months and is not going to change just because it's a new f*cking decade.

All she wanted to do on the eve of the new year was sit in her sister's hot tub and b*tch about her life for a while then go watch all the Thin Man movies on TCM.
Instead she ended up as the guest of a family who liked to cook, eat, drink home made wine, dance and listen to their Portuguese music turned up to 11. Even the family dogs were pressed in to service as dance partners.

Susan eventually exiled herself to the darkened living room where she found the TV clicker under a pile of coats and watched William Powell and Myrna Loy drink their way through the 1930s. Susan was only able to watch because the music was so loud she couldn't hear the television. Before long Susan's brother-in-law joined her and was making up names, dialogue and a story for the movie which put Susan into fits because her brother-in-law is crazy funny.

Midnight came and went so Susan's family slid home,
crawled into bed and woke up to a new year's miracle. She's typing on the drunken laptop!

Susan was all prepared to write about her resolutions for the new year, or more accurately about how she's still categorizing them by personality flaw because there's too many to choose from.

She's definitely got to cut down on her beloved sugary sweets now that cookie season is on the way out.

She's also going to consider how often she's been drinking. Not about how much, just about how often.

Anyway, Susan was seated at the dining room table, poised over the laptop, thinking her thoughts when the most HORRIBLEST thing in the world happened. The daughter came in to the room and was immediately invited to sit on Susan's lap for a little snuggly hug. In doing so her ungainly pre-teen body knocked Susan's glass of sangria all over the laptop.
OMG!
All over the laptop!

Susan beat at her chest and tore out her hair but neither helped. She flipped the laptop over in an attempt to have gravity pull the sticky poison away from the works then went to tattle on the Laptop Killer.

Everyone in the house just stood around in disbelief, staring at the upside down laptop, waiting. And if this weren't bad enough, that was the last of the sangria.

Susan found herself in the supermarket early on Sunday morning. She had originally intended to be in church at that time but due to a month long absence she was not aware of the new holiday schedule and pulled in to an empty parking lot. No matter, she'd put her time to good use by standing on a line with onions, sugar, anisette extract, the papers and hair product.
While she waited Susan noticed a mature woman a few aisles over engaged in an animated conversation with the cashier. Nothing crazy, just animated. The woman was facing away from Susan but she appeared to be trim and neat in her holiday themed sweater, little hoop earrings and styled hair. Good for her, Susan likes to see when her suburban sisters take a few moments to put themselves together. Eventually the woman turned around so Susan could see that her chin was directly underneath her nose because she had forgotten her teeth.
She combed her hair, chose an outfit and put in her earrings but not her teeth.

Last year Susan made it through Christmas while being unemployed. She had help from a girlfriend who hired Susan to do office work and then organize her house.
And they only fought once.
This year Susan is back to full time employment but the recession made sure that the husband sees no payday, which is bad because he's the breadwinner. So, they're out on the high wire until things pick up.

In the meantime, except for her children and her three nieces, any person she has ever bought presents for in the past has been slashed from the list. There'll be none for little sister, none for cousin Lisa, none for her friends,
none for the husband, none for her next door neighbors.
None for anybody.

Christmas morning Susan and her little sister's family always meet for breakfast. Forget about it this year, even the price of eggs at a diner is not in the budget.

Susan had previously told the kids that they'd be getting only one gift this year and they'd better choose judiciously.

The morning before Christmas, coinciding with the availability of Susan's paycheck, the husband went out to purchase each child's solitary gift. He was done by 9 am. Did Susan mention that they both wanted the same thing? It's handheld, electronic and not at all shabby, so don't feel bad for them. Feel bad for Susan because she's not getting sh*t except the bottle of wine that she purchased on the way home from work. That, and the knowledge that she pulled Christmas out of her ass for a second year in a row. Hooray for her!

Happy Christmas everybody.

The other day Susan was reading Vanessa's blog, wondering how anyone in the universe could possibly enjoy anything about Disney when she spied bedjump.com and had a childhood flashback.

Susan, her little sister and Wild Bill were forced to endure a vacation with their parents every summer, mostly it was places they could drive to like Mystic Seaport or D.C. or Colonial Williamsburg. Every once in a while they got on a plane, but not on this occasion.

Susan's family was on vacation somewhere with cousin Lisa's family, the only thing she can recall is that cousin Andrew was allowed to bring a friend. Susan's parents would never have brought another kid along with them on vacation. Ever. Even if it was a well behaved kid like Jesus or one of President Obama's girls.

Anyway, Cousin Lisa's family and Susan's family had adjoining motel rooms connected by a door. Susan and her siblings were in bed for the night when their mother opened the door and Susan saw into the next room.
Her cousins and their guest were jumping on the bed!
Jumping and laughing as if they were the happiest children in the world, which of course they were because they were jumping on the bed!

Susan felt like she had just glimpsed an alternate universe, one she would never know.

3 pm on a snowy Sunday is one of the reasons Susan did her best to keep a lid on her alcoholic tendencies in her twenties and halfway through her thirties.
Susan and liquor were an enthusiastic couple and she wanted them to be together for the long haul, not just flare up and die out like many of her contemporaries.
To this end Susan maintained all sorts of rules to stay in control; she observed a pre-determined drink maximum, was a practitioner of six months on the wagon and six months off and employed a buddy system. When she wasn't strictly following her rules she was getting drunk as often as she could without missing work and then going to sleep on the kitchen floor.

Susan had a lazy weekend of playing in the snow, baking chocolate biscotti with cranberries, green cleaning two bathrooms top to bottom, hosting a girlie sleepover and discovering that her Fuckleupagus of a son remained a lazy liar. By 3pm Sunday Susan was ready to transform an unpleasant bottle of red wine into a cold, sweet and tarty pitcher of sangria.

Just in time for holiday guests Susan would like to share her recipe for CHOCOLATE BISCOTTI:
2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
3/4 teasp baking soda
1/2 teasp baking powder
1/2 teasp salt
6 tblsp butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
3/4 cup dried cranberries, Susan chops them up a bit
3/4 cup mini chocolate chips

350*
Mix together dry ingredients.
Beat butter & sugar till smooth then beat in the eggs.
Mix in dry ingredients till blended.
Fold in cranberries.
Divide dough in half, shape each into a 12 inch long log, 1/2 inch thick.
Place on a buttered, wax paper lined baking sheet and bake for 25-30 minutes.
Let cool completely.
Slice into 1/2 inch thick cookies, stand them up on the baking sheet & bake for 15 minutes.
Makes 38-48 cookies depending upon how thinly you slice them.

Susan walked downstairs to put something away in the guest room closet and was immediately met by a foul yet familiar smell.
She saw that the door to the guest room was open. Susan has previously expressed her preference that it remain shut when no one is bunking there.
Susan took a few steps in and gasped.
Dog poop!
She went back upstairs and looked at Lucy who was already in full-on cowering mode; head down, tail curled between her legs, slinking away toward the back of the couch.
Susan rubbed the top of Lucy's head then set about gathering supplies to clean the poop from the cheap area rug that was mistaken for a toilet. Halfway through Susan had a better idea, she rolled the rug up & handed it over to the culprit who left both the basement and guest room doors open last night.
The daughter took it outside and left it with the garbage.

Susan has fallen into a pit of lethargy.
After two weeks the husband peered over the edge and requested that she start behaving like everything's normal. Bake something he said.
They're both exhausted from having no cash for an extended period of time and neither has done any Christmas shopping. The husband strung colored lights in the windows a while back but that was it, no internal seasonal decorating has been done, including no tree. Susan likes having no tree, she didn't have one last year and Christmas still managed to trip up the front steps and fall into the house.

Susan has been letting the incoming Christmas cards pile up on the table, she doesn't care about them.
She's not mailing any out either.
Boxes of decorations have been stacked on top of each other since last weekend when the daughter asked that they be brought up from the basement.
The thought of decorations gives Susan a headache, oy.

Anyway, a week before Christmas Susan cracks open the boxes, pulls out some stuff and decorates the fireplace mantel. She hangs a bunch of sparkly things from the ceiling. She plugs in the little light up Santa that she bought at a yard sale in Maine. She likes the little Santa.
She can live with this much.

Christmas
I wouldn't mind if you missed us
and lobbed your trees and tinsel and elves
at someone else.

The cheer, oh dear
Feel free to disappear
don't forget the grab bag and the reindeer.

Cross me off your list
I insist,
No cards or gifts
Lest I get pissed.

I abhor
Carolers at my door
Douse them with the eggnog
Until they remain more.

O Christmas tree
O Christmas tree,
bite me.

Susan had the sort of weekend that only comes 52 times in a year. It began Friday after dinner when she and the daughter made sugar cookies. Susan's daughter is now old enough to do many things almost completely on her own while Susan drinks a glass of wine and reads the paper. Like any good team Susan filled in where the daughter was weak, in this case it was with making sure some of the cookies got burned.

Saturday morning Susan helped a chicken keep her job by purchasing some eggs from a girl who knocked on the door. Not long ago Susan had seen this girl's family out in the street chasing chickens, it never dawned on Susan as she watched the silliness of the scene that she might have chickens as neighbors.
In the afternoon, and under protest, the daughter accompanied Susan to the thrift store where her expression alternated between looking as if she were smelling something rancid and absolute misery before allowing her mother to puchase a purple hooded sweatshirt. The day ended with Acme Sweatshop's holiday party where Susan drank three glasses of champagne and managed to say not one stupid thing all night long.

Sunday morning Susan and the daughter took their mutt Lucy for a long walk around the neighborhood. It was a lovely pre-winter walk, just cold and gray and empty enough to be enjoyable. When they got home Susan washed the last of the dog shelter smell off Lucy then hugged and kissed her enough for two dogs,
the other being her recently deceased boxer.

After dinner Susan submitted to the daughter's badgering and dragged out the Christmas decorations. Oy, is it really time for Christmas again? Susan is never in the mood for Christmas. Never. She doesn't even understand why anyone even needs Christmas, aren't Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve enough? But, she will admit to loving Christmas music, the bigger and churchier the better. Choirs of angels? Yes, please.
Twelve more days till Christmas and Susan hasn't purchased a single present although she came close when she found a light up Infant of Prague in the thrift store, she reconsidered when she thought it might scare the recipient instead.
Christmas. Sweet baby Jesus, help Susan get through it!

Susan's family's new used dog is a pit bull mix named Lucy.
Lucy was pretty low key and not much of a tail wagger her first night, it probably had something to do with the big shaved patch & row of stitches near her lady area.
However, when Susan's little sister's family came over with dog cookies Lucy revealed herself to be a humper.
She smelled like a dog pound dog so Susan dipped a washcloth into warm water mixed with a little bit of dog shampoo and gave her a sponge bath. Later on Lucy rolled herself into a ball on the couch next to Susan and they watched Dogville Shorts on Turner Classic Movies.

Susan wonders how anyone could have passed by her lovely little Lucy in her cage at the shelter without taking her home.

Susan went to the thrift store this afternoon and waited her turn for the dressing room. Ahead of her was an older woman with no top on digging through a shopping cart filled with clothes. She was wearing a pink brassiere but she was no Madonna. Maybe a Svetlana. The dressing rooms are right in the middle of the store, not in the back or tucked into a corner, so people are walking by. Svetlana's husband came out wearing a pair of pants pulled up to his ears, she offered her opinion on the fit, they chatted back & forth but her missing top didn't seem to be an issue. So, it wasn't an issue for Susan either,
she was just waiting to try on an armload of slacks.

All week long Susan and her kids counted off the days until they could bring their new used dog home from the animal shelter. Susan cleared her normally empty schedule and resisted the urge to personally tell everyone she knew that she was getting a dog because she knows how boring it is when she has to listen to other people talk about their dogs.

Like a prospective boyfriend she imagined them cuddling on the couch, going for walks, sharing secrets and just generally being in love.

She also wondered if it was a mistake to hastily choose just any dog the first time they went out. I mean, they only spent like ten minutes with the dog, how is that any way to pick a companion for the next ten years? OMG, and the dog is part pit bull, Susan's family doesn't even like pit bulls for crap sake. What has she done? She wants her sweet boxer back, not this rabid mongrel that she got from the pound. There's probably a good reason why it was there in the first place and now Susan's going to bring it into her house, give it a cute girly name and pray it doesn't kill anyone. OMG, and what if it chews her table legs or shreds her couches or digs up her yard?
Susan doesn't feel good.

Anyway, the dog wasn't spayed this week so she won't be ready for the family to pick up until Tuesday. Drats.

Susan still thinks she sees her previously alive dog in the house. She walks into the livingroom and habit makes her look to the spot where the dog used to lie. A chenille blanket bunched up in a corner of the couch tricks her for a second. She still closes the bathroom door to keep the dog from drinking out of the toilet and maneuvers around the large plastic bin holding her food in the laundry room. The husband reports to hear the dog walking through the house in the morning. Mercifully, no one smells the dog.

Susan's not a grief purist & didn't think she needed to wait an appropriate amount of time before she allowed another dog into the house. She views the situation more simply; her family needs a dog and they found a dog who needs to live somewhere other than a cage. It's like a Hallmark card, one that bites.

Susan enjoyed writing a post a day for a month, she totally didn't think she had it in her and suprised herself with the results. Unfortunately, the time it took to write them each day came directly from her personal marital budget, a point made once or twice by the husband. She appreciates his support and will make it up to him in December. Goodbye, NaBloPoMo.

On day twenty nine Susan hosted a family party while in a bad mood.
Last month Susan's aunt Eileen mentioned that she hadn't seen her brother, Susan's father, in a long time. Susan knows that once her folks make it to her basement they don't like to go anywhere so Susan invited her aunt to come out for a visit. Susan's aunt was happy and so was Susan because she likes having company.

Little by little the guest list grew until Susan started to feel a little panicky. But, Susan loves her aunt & uncle and all her cousins so she set her panic aside and cleaned the house. Susan's regular TWISTED mood has really been messed up recently by her job at Acme Sweatshop and by her dead dog, but she pours a glass of wine and does the best she can.

Susan looked forward to the party and everything was great until she heard her guests laughing and enjoying themselves, then she nose-dived. It was ridiculous that the sound of happiness bugged her so much, but it did. She had to remove herself a few times; walking outside with a cigar to talk to her neighbor as he hung Xmas lights, retreating to her room to read an old New Yorker or just taking a bunch of potty breaks.

Susan couldn't wait for her guests to leave and little by little they did until only her little sister's family and cousin Lisa remained. Then Susan relaxed.

Susan's family went to the town animal shelter today. They set up rules to help establish the type of dog they wanted and the type they didn't, then they all had to agree in order to bring anything home.

Susan completed a form, submitted her ID then they all waited to be escorted through the kennels. Susan recognized one of the Animal Safety officers from two summers ago when she was unsuccessful in finding the owner of an old dog wandering her neighborhood.
Back then Susan chatted up the Animal Safety officer about her job, today she just smiled at her.

Susan loved looking at all the dogs jumping and barking and wagging their tails, oy, they were loud. She wanted to hug and kiss every one of them, except for the ones that scared her. Most were pit bull mixes, the breed that Susan's family was not interested in. However, they asked to see a new mom who was picked up as a pregnant stray during the summer. The staff member had a hard time hanging on to the leash as mom went around the room smelling everything in sight. They left emptyhanded,
as Susan expected.

The family ran a few errands on the way to the next shelter including returning the son's winter jacket purchased by the husband a day earlier. Susan mentions this only as a way to tell everyone how ridiculous it was for the husband to authorize the jacket in the first place because it was a glorified sweatshirt and would never keep the kid warm in anything colder than a sunny autumn day. Thanks to Susan's intervention he now has a jacket that will keep out the rain, snow and wind chill.

The next animal shelter was much smaller and looser than the first, Susan's family walked unescorted anywhere they wanted. There were approximately 20 dogs, some cats, peacocks, chickens and a rooster to choose from.
The chickens were able to fly over a 5 foot fence and jump up into the trees. So, while chickens were sitting in trees, peacocks were strutting the parking lot and a rooster was crowing Susan's family found a dog.
She'll be ready next Saturday.

Susan started NaBloPoMo by working out her posts a day ahead of schedule so that she posted at midnight for the next day. Now, she's left herself less than an hour for the current day, plus she's tired, plus she's got no good ideas and she wishes she had something on which she could rest her feet.

Susan's family is going out this weekend to look for a dog, her rotten kids don't want another boxer so Susan will let them pick out what they want as long as it fits within her criteria; medium to large, short hair, calm disposition and female. Her old dog. Susan can't imagine another dog in her house, she'll be interested to see what they end up with.

Oh, Dr. Bob sent the family a sympathy card.

Here's a joke courtesy of her old man:
A ham sandwich walks into a bar and the bartender sez
I'm sorry, we don't serve food here.

Oy, Susan's stomach hurts.
She stayed away from anything requiring a stick of butter like stuffing and smashed potatoes, and the shrimp mousse was just a smudge on the platter by the time she found it. Susan observed a two drink maximum and only had one slice of pumpkin cheesecake although she may have eaten the remnants off of two or three other plates.
Susan believes that her friends the vegetables did her in. She's really not too familiar with the brussel sprouts, it's only the second time they've been invited to the house and she's considering them with great suspicion.
Susan was wondering how much trouble it would be to install a vomitorium.

Right now Susan is thankful for;
Zombieland
food made with sugar
modern plumbing
The Onion
Euphoria by Calvin Klein
that Pearl Jam song
McSorley's Irish Black Lager
her fireplace
supermarkets that stay open late
Dr. Bob
and all her bloggy pals who gave Susan hugs & kisses
Happy Thanksgiving, guys.

Susan's dog went to Heaven on day twenty four.

The regular veterinarian, who Susan allowed to inspect the dog only when absolutely necessary, wanted an outrageous sum to put her down. The last time Susan's dog required this vet's services it cost Susan over eight hundred dollars, half when Susan left the dog, the other half when she picked her up. They sucked the money from Susan's check in less time than it took her to write it out, then they handed it back to her.
Here, take it with you and go.
Anyway, they weren't getting her dog now.

Susan's dog went to nice Dr. Bob who took his time and helped deliver her to the afterlife gently, without pickpocketing her owners. Susan's daughter was very sad and sniffly so Susan cheered her up by saying 'pull my finger' then took her into the kitchen to bake some anisette toast.

Day twenty three and Susan is shot;
she's tired, short on time, unhappy at work and her dog has stopped all meaningful interaction.

Susan's parents arrived late in the evening to begin a week of sleeping in her basement, she tried to recruit them into taking the dog to the killers, but they were having none of it.

Susan anticipates she'll be doing alot of anxiety related baking and she started with cranberry orange bread.

Susan and her daughter shared a bar of dark chocolate laced with chili and now that's all that either of them can think about. The chili provided no flavor, only a wonderful sensation of heat in the back of the throat which crept slowly across the tongue until the entire mouth was jumping up and down.
Susan wasted no time in recreating this treat at home in the form of a brownie. Brownies are Susan's go-to dessert, she buys ten boxes of mix at a time whenever they're on sale. She's eaten brownies made from scratch but she doesn't like the texture and they give her indigestion. She's always looking to substitute a portion of the oil with a healthier lubricant like applesauce or black beans, she's not always successful. Today she added 1.25 teaspoons of cayenne pepper into the mix and reduced the oil in half by substituting a 1/4 cup of pumpkin.
The pumpkin cayenne brownies were perfection.
Just enough heat and the pumpkin made them more cake-like than dense.
They're on the Thanksgiving menu.

Except for her little sister, Cousin Lisa and sometimes her mother Susan doesn't like to talk on the telephone.
She never sez Call me! because she doesn't want you to.

She hates it when the phone rings in her house & hates it even more when it's for her. And the cell phone? What a pain it is to hold that thing up to her ear for anything longer than Hello. Pick up milk? OK. Goodbye.

In her absence the husband has been instructed to inform her callers only that she'll be told they called, nothing else. Similarly, family or friends who encounter anyone inquiring after Susan's phone number are not permitted to provide it.

Susan likes her communications to be conducted in person and when that's not possible she doesn't mind writing them down. E-mail and Susan go perfectly together, she writes when she has time and everyone answers when they have time. She finds texting very effective for keeping in touch with Wild Bill and she likes to write letters, although she doesn't hand write them anymore. She will hand write short notes and sometimes draws a little picture of her face complete with red hair if she's got a red pen. Forget about cards, they're not even on her radar, the only ones she sends are to the husband's old aunties for Xmas. She doesn't twitter because who cares and she doesn't IM because typing out her conversations in real time is insane.

Lastly, Even though she's got a Facebook page it drives her nuts with all the misspellings, LOLs and exclamation points!!!! OMG!!!!! She's got it set so that nobody can find her.

This post is a total cop out because Susan was left unprepared for day twenty.
Susan had another in a series of brutal f*cking days at Acme Sweatshop which has left her wondering if she'll be a sweatshop seamstress for much longer.
After work she went out by herself to the mall where she was stunned to find that some of her favorite stores are now selling absolute crap.
Ann Taylor LOFT she's talking about you.
When the mall kicked Susan out & turned off their lights she popped into the Big Chain Book Store to buy her favorite expensive decorating magazine then headed for home. On the way Susan returned her pal Cyndi's phone call (yes, she really spells it that way). Susan enjoyed the private time with her friend so much she continued the conversation while sitting in her driveway even though the family kept coming outside to interrupt. She ate a bowl of cereal at 11pm for dinner and crawled into bed with the laptop where she started working on day twenty but she realized that she'd never finish it on time so she's substituting this one.

The last two mornings Susan had a little meltdown as she left the house for work. Neither was created in a vacuum, the husband's mouth was present.
Yesterday's explosion was immediate, and it only took a little nudge. Today's was just as quick and ended with Susan throwing a banana.
In each case the cause of the argument wasn't really significant except for the one where the husband started a conversation then lost interest when it was Susan's turn to talk.
Banana incoming!

Susan forgot to tell her everyone about something that made her LOL back on day twelve;
an Xmas tree already lit up in someone's livingroom window.
She hopes you don't feel cheated but this is Susan's offering for day eighteen.
She'll see you tomorrow.

Day 17 finds Susan making Deb's spaghetti squash.
She hasn't tasted it yet because the squash is still resting but the husband has already declared that it 'smells good'. That's because butter, garlic, cumin, coriander, cayenne and seasoned salt smell good.
Susan's low on enthusiasm and ideas tonight. She's been having a devil of a time at her job as a sweatshop seamstress and still feels as though she might have a f*cking heart attack at any moment if she doesn't have a f*cking stroke first.
Susan also wants to climb into her big soft bed and stare into space as soon as she can.
Susan can't think of anything funny to type.

Courage.
(Courage was kind of funny)
What's the frequency, Kenneth?

Susan would love to read a book again.
She used to read them. In fact she read so many books during her four hours on the train each day that she carried a back up book just in case. By the time she stopped commuting she was a little burnt out and took a vacation from reading. She still had the newspaper and magazines but they were different, so she started reading in the car while waiting for her son outside Tae Kwon Do
or during her daughter's guitar lessons
or while both kids were on the soccer field.
She read on the potty, while her family picked out their Xmas tree and while people had conversations with her. Obviously, if they were going to talk to her while she was reading they didn't care if she paid attention, so she kept reading. When she fell down the rat hole of unemployment she turned on the computer and read everything she had ever bookmarked which led her in all sorts of other directions including into the blogosphere.
Then she got a job and hasn't had time for anything with a binding and a title in months.
She knows she's pretty maxed out with obligations during the week, but maybe she can begin by squeezing an hour each Saturday & Sunday for a book.
She's going to think about what she's in the mood for.

When Susan was in her twenties the normal frustrations of life would inspire some pretty immature behavior; she might throw her keys from one side of a restaurant dining room to the other, flip her chair over at work, engage in shoving matches with her sister or chase after cars that cut her off. The last one resulted in a few hairy confrontations including having a man come after her with a two by four and another threaten to take her middle finger from one place and put it in another. Susan has grown into a mature wife and mother who can hardly believe she used to act that way, but she knows that she did because she was there.

She figures that you're all thinking, but didn't she just stick her middle finger up at a guy yesterday? And you're correct, but that's not her normal behavior or wouldn't you have read about it by now?

Susan still loves to yell, scream and throw things but not at strangers, she saves that behavior for her family because she's just civilized that way. She combats the frustrating minutiae of her life by banging furiously at a keyboard cranking out TWISTED Susan posts day after day after day. Her modest fan base is right there with her letting her know she's not alone.

Day fifteen for anyone who's counting.
Susan is.

Susan took her daughter out early on Saturday morning to run errands. They started at We Do It All Dental Care where Susan saw the b*tchy office c*nt again, and ended in the food store. Susan prefers one food store while the husband likes another, Susan was closer to the husband's so that's where she went. His food store was good for some things but not for others. For example, Susan stocked up on vegetables, canned tomatoes and spices but couldn't find acceptable toilet paper or laundry detergent.

Susan's daughter likes to push the shopping cart, which is fine by Susan because she prefers to be up on point scouting the aisle. The aisles are smaller than Susan's regular store and the patrons think nothing of cutting each other off without so much as a neighborly smile or a nod. Not the worst thing in the world, but Susan thought it rude. Susan and her daughter were navigating a turn into the soda aisle to pick up Susan's seltzer but were blocked by a store employee stocking shelves. He had a movable hand cart, sort of like the thing they transported Hannibal Lecter around on, filled with boxes. Susan said 'Excuse me' then waited for him to respond. Which he didn't. She knew that he heard her because she was standing immediately behind him and spoke clearly and in his native language.
Susan moved the cart herself as the store employee turned and gave her a look. 'This is what I meant by excuse me' she said, educating him to how he failed the small task she gave him. She turned her back and continued toward the seltzer, then spun around to give him the finger. She was happy when he caught her.

Susan rubbed elbows with a room full of emerging artists last night. Elbows and feet and rear ends, it was very crowded. The eldest of Susan's three nieces is in sleep away art school and was one of a group chosen to have their work exhibited in a gallery. Susan and her little sister's family went to the reception and had a lot of fun trying to maneuver from one side of the room to the other in order to see everything.

Susan's favorite was a pyramid shaped mixed media piece illuminated from within, sort of like an extroverted diorama. It was a collection of everything from horseshoe crabs to dolls heads, framed photographs, painted beer bottles & little boxes filled with Susan couldn't even see what. Susan also liked a very detailed collage, acrylic and painted panel on canvas which she got ample opportunity to admire while waiting her turn for the toilet. Of course she liked her niece's contribution, two panels screwed directly into the gallery wall that made Susan think of a colorful Guernica. Susan will admit to not liking everything her niece does, but what she likes she usually really likes.

In densely packed crowds Susan prefers never to mingle without alcohol but this evening she resisted the wine and was all over the thick chunks of dark chocolate served alongside cheese, fruit and pink frosted donuts.

One memorable moment came when Susan's niece introduced her to a tall blonde who extended her hand and informed Susan of her name while turning completely away to begin a conversation with the person next to her.
So rude to meet ya.

Anyway, it was a fun evening and now day thirteen is done.

A few years back Susan used to take the train to work. She liked walking the few blocks from her house to the station and if she had time she would stop at the newspaper stand and get a cup of coffee because the guy at the newspaper stand made good coffee. He spoke English as his second language and sometimes people would be short tempered with him so Susan always made sure that she said thank you extra sweet.

Every once in a while a politician would be waiting to ambush the commuters in front of the train platform. Oy, how Susan hated to waste any of the precious moments of her life ducking politicians. One morning when Susan didn't have any available time to spare she spied an old timer in khakis approaching commuters, accepting donations and handing out poppies. Drats! The old timer was right in her path, there was nowhere to go. Susan prepared herself for the encounter by reaching into her bag to grab a dollar but came up with a twenty. Fear stabbed her in the heart when she realized that's all she had.

Susan walked up to the veteran, conversated briefly and slipped him the twenty. He smiled a big smile, took a step back and saluted her.

Susan gave permission for her daughter to stay overnight in the home of complete strangers.
Later, she went over there with the husband and some brownies to see if she could get rid of a queasy feeling that she had.

Susan liked the strangers and it wasn't just because she was handed a plate of warm apple fritters topped with icecream faster than she was able to calculate how much fat & sugar they might have.

There was much lively conversation and the strangers had a ballsy romantic backstory that Susan found appealing.
It was a good first date and Susan would like to see them again.

Black Bean Chili

Day ten is brought to you courtesy of Susan's pal Dawn (hi, doll) who was intrigued by Susan's addition of pumpkin to her black bean chili. Throwing pumpkin into chili doesn't mess with the flavor, unless you want it to, then just add a little cinnamon.

1 large ONION, chopped
2 GARLIC cloves, minced (add more if you want more)
2 teaspoons ground CUMIN
2 tablespoons CHILI POWDER
4 cups canned black BEANS (make any bean substitution you like)
1 cup water
1/4 cup bottled chipotle sauce (Susan substitutes Goya CHIPOTLE PEPPERS in Adobo sauce)
1 tablespoon SUGAR
1 28 ounce can DICED TOMATOES
1/2 to 1 cup of PUMPKIN
*a few strips of turkey BACON, diced

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in pan, add turkey bacon & saute for five minutes then add onion and garlic, saute for another five until everything begins to brown.
Add the spices, cook 1 minute stirring constantly
Add beans and the remaining ingredients, stir to combine.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat & simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

*Susan loves turkey bacon, not because it's going to fool anyone into thinking that it's real bacon, but because it provides a wonderful smoky sweet flavor.
The chipotle is what makes this Susan's favorite.
Plus it's easy.
And fast.

In Susan's chilly little corner of the universe it was warm on Sunday. For lack of anything better to do the husband proclaimed it Family Fun Day and handed everyone a rake. Susan wore a patch of skin off her hand in ten minutes,
a few people stepped in poop, and the yard got cleaned.
Susan even saw two ladybugs, unless the one inside was the same one that was outside then some mosquitoes showed up. How does that happen? They must reconstitute above a certain temperature. The husband played basketball in the street with the kids and time moved slowly, in a nice way.
Susan's front stoop is now swept and neat, colored lights frame the doorway and her threadbare welcome mat was recycled when she flipped it over.
A well placed sunny Sunday can make a big difference in Susan's mental outlook. At least temporarily.

It's day eight but Susan's wants to blog about how she spent day seven cooking and baking to take her mind off of how f*cking broke she is. If having no available cash weren't bad enough, she ran out of garlic and is almost entirely out of flour and laundry soap.

Susan started the morning by stepping in dog pee.
Let's just assume that she steps in dog pee every day this way she won't have to waste energy mentioning it again and again.
In the shower she thought she was going to have a heart attack, Susan had to get a grip.
The only way out of this level of anxiety was to bake.

Earlier in the week she had opened a large can of pumpkin for who remembers what and her goal was now to use up the rest. Susan was sauteing the onions for her chili when she found out about the garlic. Argh.
She added the rest of the ingredients including a cup of pumpkin, she likes to add pumpkin to her chili.
She moved on to making two loaves of pumpkin bread while the chili simmered.
Susan mixed the last of the pumpkin into the batter for two brownies that she microwaved in cups, then she prepared some butternut squash for roasting.
The bread came out of the oven, the squash went in,
then the squash came out and in went a pan of brownies into which Susan had swirled peanut butter and jelly.
The husband likes them that way.
While she was waiting Susan made a simple orange glaze to pour over the bread.

Susan was able to relax enough to enjoy her Little sister's family when they came over to eat the brownies and watch a Woody Allen movie.

NaBloPoMo, who sez quality suffers?

Even though Susan knows better she'll still pick up a Martha Stewart Living magazine if she sees one lying around. Susan doesn't dislike Martha or anything, she just finds her to be unrealistically labor intensive and a bit much with the table settings and fancy pie crusts.
The other day Susan found the current MSL sitting unattended so she grabbed it.

MSL starts off with Martha's Calendar and is filled with things like apply bonemeal to planted spring flowering bulbs and work it into the soil using a cultivator and
seal stone terraces. But it's not all ridiculous because she's also got stock liquor cabinet scheduled early in the month.

Martha shows us how to make a simple birdseed and suet bird feeder molded in a wonton soup container, but first we must rend two pounds of suet. Next.
How about cooking a spatchcocked turkey? It requires that we cut out the backbone, open the turkey like a book & then break the breastbone on each side so that the turkey lies flat.
Glitter painting could be adapted into a cute craft if Susan gave a crap.
There were a number of quick breads that looked to be right up Susan's alley but they each required two sticks of butter. That's a stick and a half too much.

There were plenty of recipes and crafts and articles but Susan wasn't interested in any of them. The one thing that stood out were how many advertisements there were for Martha's own products; Martha Stewart Weddings, Martha Stewart's Dinner at Home, Martha Stewart Tinsel Glitters, Martha Stewart for 1-800-Fowers.com, Martha Stewart for grandinroad and Martha Stewart in a Got Milk? ad.

Susan will be dropping MSL into the magazine recycling bin at her library over the weekend.

Day seven's in the books.

Project Runway

Day 6.
How come Susan's not all excited about PR this season?
I mean, she still watches it but she doesn't bother calling her little sister the next day to talk about it, she doesn't care about who makes what, there's not even anybody who bugs her. What's wrong? Do you think it's Susan? Because she thinks it's them.
On second thought, there are a few things that have bugged her this season; she totally doesn't want to watch the designers interact with eachother unless they're ganging up to b*tch about someone. She's had it with faggy boys who giggle and run like girls. Had it.
Epperson kind of bugged her but she can't remember why. At any rate, she's glad she doesn't have to look at his forehead or listen to anyone say 'Epperson' anymore.
She didn't like Nicholas' fat face, greasy hair and boring blather. She was glad when he got booted off too.
Are you a little surprised to see Susan turning ugly? A little disappointed? Susan believes that TV people have signed up for this sort of nasty scrutiny and she doesn't feel bad for providing it.
Susan found that she likes Christopher's voluminous ruffly things, it makes her all weepy for everything that Christian made last season. Christopher is lucky he made it this far, he won't live much longer.
We all know that the mean girl, Irina is going to win because she's the most talented and has the stomach for cutthroat business interactions.

Day five; Dental issues.
Over the weekend Susan's temporary cap fell out and she bit it in two. She's already fed up with her dental practice even though it's a relatively new relationship. She had four teeth requiring attention when she sought the intervention of We Do It All Dental Care. The first problem was left over from 2001 when she bit into a Baby Ruth candy bar and swallowed half her tooth. The most recent problem was earlier this year when she bit into a soft piece of macaroni and said 'Ouch!'

Anyway, We Do It All was very nice while they were courting Susan but once she turned herself over to them they were all You owe us $150 for today's visit every bloody time she went. Then, when Susan was sitting in the chair about to have a permanent tooth installed she was invited to leave and come back six weeks later, the length of time it took them to clear up a previous insurance discrepancy. Susan wasn't down with that at all and didn't go back for months and months and months until she got a letter saying that We Do It All was cutting Susan loose and where did she want her dental records sent?

Susan returned this past Saturday to have them finish what they started. However, since she'd been avoiding them for so long the permanent tooth didn't fit and another one would have to be made at an additional cost. They cemented the old temporary back in and sent her to the b*tchy office c*nt to make an appointment for two weeks later. Susan sat directly in front of the b*tchy office c*nt for a full three minutes and was never told that she still had some powdery white cement on her chin. Susan found this out in public when she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror.

Later that evening after Susan bit her temporary cap in two she phoned We Do It All and got their service.
We Do It All except phone Susan back it seems.

On day four Susan got her hair cut.
She likes to keep it short, lesbian short. Susan's former therapist said that she made herself a visual target,
why can't Susan just like her hair short?

She goes to a neighborhood place where Kitty cuts her hair for twelve dollars. They each have a boy in the same grade and a girl in the same grade, so they compare disciplinary strategies. Susan and Kitty agree that jumping up & down and screaming is essential for the relaxing after-effect it has on the screamer. It's not so good as a motivational tool.

Susan used to go to a friend's salon and pay forty dollars for the haircut, forty for the color and ten dollars to the girl who washed her hair. But that was one job & a recession ago, now Susan buys a box of L'Oreal #6R and likes the color better.

Periodically Susan gets the impression that some may think her hairstyle too short, but that's alright. Susan's almost fifty (well, next year) and doesn't mind when someone isn't in love with her hair as long as they keep it to themselves.

Can't wait till day five, eh?

Day three and Susan has nothing to write about.
She told you all that this would happen and yet,
you encouraged her. She hopes you're happy now.
Sit back and hear why Susan was unsatisfied with her lunch today.

One of the perks of Susan's workplace, Acme Sweatshop, is that lunch is provided for the employees. Susan isn't about to b*tch about the hand that feeds her because she generally enjoys her lunches, but not always.

Today, Susan got to lunch late and found a solitary plate of cold pizza waiting for her. This was totally not going to be enough food to carry Susan through the afternoon, neither was it a good looking plate of cold pizza. She went into the kitchen to see what else was available and found a plate of lettuce. Not salad greens with some olives or a tomato, just a plate of lettuce. Even Susan's mother served a better salad back in the '70s.

Susan took the plate of lettuce and the plate of cold pizza and a cup of salad dressing over to a table to join an old Real Estate section of the Times already waiting. She cut up her pizza, dumped it onto the lettuce and poured the dressing over it. She ate it without enthusiasm while reading how it takes over an hour for a fella from Brooklyn to mass transit himself to his girlfriend in upper Manhattan, 14 miles away.

Susan will see you tomorrow.

Susan has been preparing for the final days of her elderly, semi-continent, arthritic dog by giving her food from the table, letting her sleep on the couch and by not over reacting when she pees on Susan's feet.

The twelve year old boxer has slowed down but still able to enjoy her usual compliment of activities; roaming the yard, licking grease from the barbecue, having a nosh from the compost pile, trying to hump the neighbor's dog. Then last week she took to the couch and didn't leave except to eat and go potty, by invitation. When Susan came home from work the dog would barely look up, making no effort to move around or even wag her tail. Sad stuff. Susan knew that the dog would not be around to beg for food at Thanksgiving.

Susan took an old quilt and threw it on top of the dog's bed for when she couldn't make it back onto the couch. Susan watched as the dog attempted to position herself on the quilt, obviously in pain, but collapsed instead and fell asleep as if she had no strength at all to make the teeniest adjustment to her limbs or head. From this point on Susan began checking that the dog was still breathing and discussed with the husband about where they would bury her.

Friday night Susan had a date with her little sister to watch 'All About Eve' at cousin Lisa's house. She told everyone of her impending loss, got a little sympathy then they all sat down to watch watching Bette Davis and Celeste Holm grow to hate Anne Baxter.

Saturday morning Susan's neighbor came over to let his dogs run in her yard, this attracted the elderly, deaf dog's attention so she got off the couch and hobbled outside to see what was up. She seemed to make a teeny bit of a comeback keeping her distance from the other dogs but walking and pooping with much less of a labored effort.
For the rest of the afternoon she was barking at trick or treaters, following people into the kitchen and walking down the back steps of the deck instead of falling down them. At dinner she took her usual spot underneath the dining table instead of sleeping through it in the living room.

This is all Susan needed to cheer her up and banish the dog from the couch once again.

NoMoToSay

As TWISTED, smart & funny as Susan may be she's unable to consistently come up with anything worth reading. Beginning right this second Susan has decided to enter NaBloPoMo and force herself to write a blog post every day for a month. Oy. Susan's better suited to WipeHerHineyEveryDay because she's pretty confident that she can work it into her schedule.

Susan's not sure what constitutes a regulation post with NaBloPoMo. Four sentences? She doesn't know if she can even think up four sentences every day and then squeeze them in between all the other things she's got to do, like;
managing her economic anxiety
wiggling her broken tooth
giving her elderly dog cookies for no good reason
muting all the television commercials
and making Hamburger Helper again for dinner.

This is barely even a post, but it'll have to do.