Susan's summer eating binges have resulted in her gaining some weight. At first she didn't mind because it didn't impact her waistband, but her concern began to manifest when she developed one of those kangaroo pouches big enough to carry her teenaged children. Of course, the damned kids refuse to travel that way.


The other day she caught sight of some back fat rolling over the constraints of her brassiere and was horrified. She stared at it in disbelief then closed her eyes and looked again, it was still there. A fat back monkey.


Over the weekend she began her new inspired eating regimen by removing the cream cheese frosting from a cupcake and taking a smaller portion of Bananas a la Little Sister; sauteed in sugar and alcohol then dumped over angel food cake.


She feels invigorated.

Susan's little sister scored some free tickets to a Broadway play for Friday night and chose Susan as her date. The seats were right up front so Susan was able to see spit flying out of the actors' mouths. They were also really cushiony and comfortable, which is not always guaranteed in Broadway theatres. Anyway, the play was good, it had some famous people in it and Susan got to see a few of them in their street clothes because her little sister likes to hang around the back door to get autographs.

Afterward they walked down to Columbus Circle and encountered a fellow with extremely smelly feet. Totally smelly.

On the way home they saw the Empire State Building all lit up in blue, yellow, red, green and white for the Olympics, which Susan's little sister was smart enough to figure out. Susan just thought they picked those colors because they were pretty.

Guys, you didn't love LET'S HAVE A KIKI?


Lock the door
Close the blinds
Fire up the smoke machine
And put on your heels...


Are you messing with Susan? 
Well, quit it.


Anyway, here's evidence of last month's bathroom rehab

Bad

Good

Susan saw the motherf*cker of all rainbows today, it started on the left and stretched all the way to the right. She saw both ends! And, if that wasn't magical enough, there was a second rainbow begining.

She tried to alert her kids to the rainbow using the husband's phone but she kept getting wrong numbers even though she pressed HOME on his touch screen. Strangely, he categorizes a number of different home numbers as HOME but with different numerical designations, this is how Susan came to have a nice chat with one of the husband's grown daughters.

Susan looked at the rainbow for a long time and took a bunch of pictures with the husband's phone but they all came out crappy and completely un-awesome. Instead, Susan would like to substitute a picture of her daughter, the typist.

Happy Fourteenth Birthday, darling!

LET'S HAVE A KIKI

Susan has a tourniquet on her index finger. She cut herself removing an avocado pit in order to make avocado ice cream which was a recipe she found too ridiculous not to try. It called for 1/3 cup of tequila which she didn't think was appropriate for the demographic in her house, but she had no issue including two tablespoons of ginger liqueur which she regretted not increasing to three.

The morning started off with great excitement when Susan scored a 1930's typewriter on eBay for the daughter's birthday. Then she had a cup of coffee and read a number of juicy stories in her fave paper, the Post.
Go, Kerry Kennedy!
Then she cleared off her old, dead dog's grave and oversaw the son as he arranged a bunch of paving stones into a heart shape on top of it. Then she went inside and tried to chop off her finger.

Who wouldn't want this for their birthday?

Later on Susan was amused when the daughter pretended she didn't know how to pick up dog sh*t.

Susan's hatred of Facebook is well documented somewhere in her BLAHg posts. Every year she commemorates the day she deactivated her account by feeling superior. However, when Susan wanted to sign up for pinterest she had to sully herself once again with the undesirable FB.
Ugh.
There was no way around it except thru Twitter which is a word that makes her feel silly even to think about.

She put it off as long as she could then reluctantly made a new FB account and threw up.  After consideration Susan invited her little sister to become her sole friend in order to have access to her pictures then tightened up her privacy settings so that no one could find her. But, that's not really possible because FB is all about finding people. Within an hour she had two friend requests from her oldest and dearest, and declined them both. Then her little sister started tagging her in pictures which started people commenting about the pictures which generated more friend requests from her actual friends.
This was a disaster.

Obviously Susan doesn't know how to effectively manage her settings and will have to employ one of her children to assist their doddering old mum.

Susan's teenaged children will eat twenty yogurts instead of bending down to look through the refrigerator for something substantive.
I don't like leftovers the daughter commonly sez making her little sour pickle face to which Susan counters, That's ridiculous.
The son is no better, although he remains largely silent not divulging any information that his mother may be able to use against him in an argument.

Today Susan came home and found the remnants of something she couldn't identify in a dirty pot.
What's this? she asked the daughter.
Spicy Peanut Noodles.
You made this?
Yes.
Susan looked into the pot struggling to understand, you chopped up onions?
Yes.
Did you use soy sauce?
Yes, and sesame oil and red pepper flakes and peanut butter.
You cooked something using grown up ingredients?
Yes.
Unable to contain herself Susan threw her arms around the daughter and cried I'm so proud of you!

The High Line, NYC

  

             click HERE.

Susan's little corner of the universe has been HOT for weeks. When the weather person predicted 101* Susan panicked and made a run for ice, mangoes, limes, tomatoes, cilantro and a sprinkler, the old school type that just sits there and sprays upward.

Back home Susan used half the mangoes for salsa (mangoes, chipotle, tomatoes, black beans, cilantro and lime juice, red onion optional). She used the other half and all the limes for sorbet in the ice cream maker, a gift from her formerly recurring house guest. Susan had no idea that she would love to make ice cream and sorbet so much most notably because it only takes twenty minutes and she can use up whatever she has in the house. Lemons and basil? That's a flavor! Susan will argue that everything tastes good if one adds enough sugar then freezes it.

Susan also made gazpacho, she's still working on the recipe but it involves tomatoes, red peppers, celery, onion, garlic and Spicy Hot V8 Tomato Juice. Susan only knows gazpacho through Pedro Almodovar but the daughter requested some so Susan is determined to figure it out. Wild Bill liked last week's attempt but Susan felt it lacked depth. This week's is better although the husband prefers it less crunchy.   

Lastly, Susan made tapanade (olives, sundried tomatoes, garlic) then she took a nap.

Susan has entitled this photograph 
Girl Happy About Her Lobster Lunch

The old folks are back home, Susan's back to work and Wild Bill's still on little sister's couch.
Indefinitely.

F I E L D T R I P

Last week Susan took her daughter and mom to her fave local art museum to see an exhibit made from garbage.

                                 They liked it.

Other than Susan, who didn't get their full compliment of sleep last night?


She did pretty well till a dream woke her up at 4am and jump started her brain.


Oh, it must have been a scary dream you're thinking.
Not really, it just provided a sticky place for her anxiety to germinate.


Being tired didn't make any difference, that was that and Susan was AWAKE.


Good morning, black darkness!


Ugh.

Wild Bill

Susan's on vacation this week!
Before you get all excited, she's spending it at home with the old folks who came up from Florida to sleep in her basement.

Every day Susan and the old folks discuss what they'd like to do the next day observing the following criteria;

• that they not leave on time
• that someone change their mind about the destination 
• that Susan's father ultimately decide he'd rather not go
• that the place be closed when they get there

In the meantime everyone's eating lots of ice cream and waiting for Wild Bill to hit town.

Today, after Susan had been home for a few hours the daughter said quite casually 'Guess what I saw today.'


Susan indicated through her facial expression that she didn't know.


'I saw (brother's name removed for purposes of privacy) naked' and then erupted into teenaged laughter.


'OMG, front or back?' was Susan's horrified inquiry.


'Back'.


'Thank goodness' said Susan, most relieved.

Susan  found a notebook she kept when she went to London with her little sister in the spring of 1986 and would like to share with you the contents.

Tavern Bar in the hotel: this is the only bloody place open and we'll be chased out soon enough. I can't believe that they actually chase you out of these places and then pull all the liquor off the bar - everything's locked up by 11pm or 1am at the absolute latest, and that's this place.

Description: All wood, mahogany stain, red floral carpeting, tables and chairs clustered throughout, stained glass lamps, low ceiling, beams. The bartenders are doing a good job with my Mudslides (Bailey's, Kalhua, vodka). Lots of loud travellers - we've got a bunch of Swedes in and they're making the most noise, they were singing out front when I went past for smokes.

Friday we lucked out because after hours Jacques and Allan took us to the place where Allan worked or we wouldn't have eaten at all.  We met them the first night at the Gloucester Arms, over a block or two. We had been walking around taking pictures because it was such a nice night and we were searching for food. - we were so knocked out after that miserable flight and the unbelievably horrendous trek to this hotel, dragging all our luggage in the rain then then the snow. We were limping along with tons of stuff when the rain turns into snow, we don't know where we're going but, we're going. So, anyway thanks to Allan we got to eat at the Hamilton House (I think it's called). The chef was funny - a tall, nice looking fella with his blond hair in a pony tail underneath a big white chef's hat. Some red-haired fella was playing a guitar and singing from a book of words he had while assisted by Kevin; a moderately obnoxious thin English type with a button-all-the-way-up shirt and a crew cut. I had some pretty good chili and after Kat goes to tally up at the register I find out that we picked up everybody's drinks. That's terrific - just like the newspaper guy last night; we're down in Piccadilly going in what we thought was the right direction and I want to get a paper so I ask the fella what a good London paper is and he tells me The Times, 'it's the best and the dearest' which I take to mean they're all gone. I ask for the second best and there were none of whichever that was either so, I settle for The Mail, 'a reasonable paper', sorta like the Daily News but not as bad. They're all like the National Enquirer here just in varying degrees. Anyway, the point is - after I settle for this reasonable paper some fella comes up, asks for The Times and gets it! That sonofabitch newspaper guy wouldn't give the damned paper to me.

Trader Vicks, London Hilton; enjoying a lovely Trader Vick's Stinker - sloe gin, rum, grog (whatever that is) and a couple of limes. This place looks like a Polynesian village after a tidal wave. There's a decent amount of business suits and we're the trashiest looking couple here - but, they did let us in. The second round is coming up, we're having a Pina Colada at Trader Vicks.

Cheap Day Return; on our way to Salisbury to get a bus and see Stonehenge, we're waiting to get thrown out because we paid for second class and we're sitting in coach - the only difference seems to be there's more room and tables between the seats like in a diner. 
From the train you get to see the countryside and the towns, it's quite pretty. These folks sure like brick. 
It's very hazy, not like the fog you see Basil Rathbone walking in and out of, this just sort of sits off in the distance. When it's seen through the trees it's atmospheric and very nice but when yer trying to take pictures of Big Ben it's a real drag.  The last few nights have been absolutely bitter and Kathryn dragged me out to shoot the Houses of Parliament/Big Ben last night and Tower Bridge and the Tower of London the night before. They're all on the water and the wind goes ripping through any area that's not secured; up sleeves and down necks. Scarves and gloves are only minimally effective, they're better than no scarves and no gloves but you still suffer. Kat keeps saying You're wearing a skirt again - aren't you cold? while she's standing there with her coat unbuttoned and no gloves.
Speaking of gloves: I left my red ones in the Gloucester Station.

Stonehenge was real boring; an hour and a half on the train (nice ride) then ten miles on the bus. The bus driver was a real good guy - he told us to behave ourselves and left us there for an hour. After paying one pound fifty for admission and walking around taking pictures, we had 46 minutes to stand around and complain about the cold. It was all roped off so you couldn't get too near the stones and some old guy in a glass booth made extra sure that we didn't. On the other side there were sheep - lots of them, everywhere we walked we had to watch out for the blueberries.

Stanhope Tavern; I found my red gloves. The Iranian at the Bureau de Change had them. Bearing in mind my native land I naturally assumed they were gone fer good. There's a great jukebox here - I'm singing Wild Thing to my sister, we have to keeping drinking till all my songs are played; ten for a pound.

DINKYS: Double Income No Kids Yet. This is one of Elizabeth's expressions, we met her at the Stanhope Tavern; she's thirty seven, interested in New York but loves Europe and tells us that the Britons were outraged that we involved them in the air raid to kill Qaddafi by flying through their air space. I've heard that the British are very cold and unfriendly but I must say that the worst anti-social behavior thus far has been simply to ignore. At least once a day we find someone who is very friendly and sweet. Having someone turn my leather gloves in was a big two points in my book. Elizabeth was sitting there all by herself (just like Jacques was) and we all started yapping - sounding different is really a conversation starter. 

PS: I started talking to Elizabeth. I saw her coming and I cleared the stool of our coats so she'd have a place to sit while Sue was in the toilet (Written by Susan's little sister).

Last day: I've been thinking about Klaus; he's a journalist that we met in the lobby last night, the floors in the hotel are smooth and slippery so I dragged Kat along by her hands, she used her boots as skis and Klaus came up behind her and pushed. We were to have met him for a drink forty minutes ago but we never got out of the room. There was a note waiting for us this morning at breakfast, I naturally assumed we were going to get yelled at; we had just met him so what type of message could he possibly be leaving us? He wrote that he regretted not being able to talk to us, he included how long he waited and said that he'd be in America at the end of the month and would like to meet us. We also got an invite to France from Midi, our little waiter -  he was so small and such a cookie, he immediately took to us...he wants to see us bronzed (from the sun as opposed to cast in bronze). He was so attentive and complimentary I'll have to put him on my list for correspondence.

The plane ride's been alright so far - no gut wrenching turbulence, we have in flight drinks, Irish music on the headset and we even left on schedule.

Susan is a big fan of the guy who figured out the three day weekend. Smart idea, man.


Last weekend Susan used two of her days rehabbing her bathroom which included but was not limited to wallpapering, painting and ripping out an '80s light fixture, medicine cabinet and shower doors.


The third day was her HAPPY BIRTHDAY and she spent it at the Brooklyn flea market with a side trip to Coney Island where she had to navigate broken glass on the beach. Holy crap Brooklyn, broken glass on the beach?


Susan had a super duper time at the flea market, she bought a bunch of stuff and everybody was friendly starting with Maya. Susan's elderly neck is now camouflaged by a long gold necklace that Maya made.


She had a fantastically refreshing handmade lime ginger soda from Brooklyn Soda Works that inspired her to grate ginger into everything for the rest of the weekend. She's also been working in the laboratory concocting a fizzy lime ginger cocktail.


Susan, her little sister and cousin Lisa all bought coin necklaces from Adornments NYC, they had fun picking out which ones they liked best and talking to the fella who made them.


When she couldn't decide between the Peppermint Ginger Tobacco and the Jasmine Tuberose Soy candles from Apotheke, the husband purchased both. He's so crazy.


Here's a picture of Susan's old bathroom:

The other morning Susan noticed a new neighbor walking along a well traveled road in her neighborhood. She appeared to be in her thirties, a little scrawny with a hint of white trash about her. White trash is not unusual in Susan's working class neighborhood, but she doesn't mind. She prefers white trash to money because folks with money often need to draw attention to it. Yuk.

As Susan drove past she thought about what makes a person appear as white trash. At Acme Sweatshop Susan is often mistaken for someone of authority, which sounds nice but it usually results in more for her to do. She wondered where her unidentified neighbor was headed and assumed it wasn't to work. Nonetheless, Susan continued on her way and didn't think of her again.

Until two days later.

Susan was on her way home from work, driving on the same road but in the opposite direction when she saw the woman again, she was wearing a leather jacket. Susan was in a summer dress. As Susan got closer the woman turned around and stuck out her thumb. She was hitchhiking? There was really nowhere to give this odd woman a lift unless she wanted to come home with Susan.

Susan doesn't need a residential hitchhiker in her house.

Susan endured another pedicure. She chose pale pink glitter, real glitter like from the floor of Studio 54. 

It's scratchy. 

The non English speaking girl who performed the pedicure upon Susan's feet was brutal, she even lopped off the corner of Susan's big toe nail. Her savagery was put to good use during the neck massage and Susan left able to look over her shoulder again. 

Let's Look at S'mores!

Susan found these here.

Susan dedicated two of the previous three day weekend painting the daughter's room. It's slightly larger than a monk's cell* with a solitary north facing window and hand me down furniture. The furniture got painted too.

Then Susan took a can of high gloss black and finished a bunch of her own painting projects including the living room shelves newly installed by the husband after seven years of asking. The old redwood benches which serve as Susan's dining room seating got two coats after a good priming. Some other stuff that was already painted black got freshened up and Susan ended her weekend speckled, stiff, hunched over and in need of a manicure.

*description appropriated from Susan's friend, Kate.

Susan spent the day being aggravated by her family, particularly by the husband.
So much talking!
Sometimes she thinks she'll just go nuts if people don't stop talking to her NOW.
She can't even pretend to listen as evidenced by the disinterested and generic uh-huh she gives to indicate that she's really not listening. But, they keep talking.
Anyway, the day ended nicely with some Maker's Mark cocktails and company, including these two who mercifully gave Susan something interesting to listen to.
Thank you, girls.

Another pedicure, sparkly blue. That's number three in almost fifty two years. Susan has quickly abandoned her previous hatred of pedicures because it's worth not having to do it herself. She settled in and read the entire New York Magazine (New York, not New Yorker) then went to Target for a  citrus juicer because it's a big weekend coming up.

Tarting Up

The old Adirondack chairs were tightened and arranged around the fire pit, next to each was placed a tree stump for a table, the ones that hadn't already fallen apart from decay anyway. Poison Ivy was terminated with extreme prejudice, leaves were raked and trash bags were hauled to the curb.


Susan's son, in his second month of punishment related chores, swept the leaves and spiderwebs from the stoop then washed the front of the house with a BIG sponge and a bucket of soapy water. Susan strung white Xmas lights around the doorway, replaced the old welcome mat which had been flipped upside down because it looked better upside down than right side up, replaced the broken flower pots and stabbed some solar powered walkway lights into her lawn. Except for the flower pots being devoid of flowers, the outside of the house was now ready for company.

Susan's son was pressed into manual servitude on Saturday morning moving a yard of stones from the driveway to the backyard. Once deposited it became the daughter's job to redistribute them around a fire pit with a rake. Susan put herself in charge of diverting the dog's attention from the open gate by throwing logs around for her to fetch and the husband dug a trench around the rocks in which to drop some edging material. Afterward, Susan had to force herself to drive past a hundred yard sales on the way to pick up poison ivy killer at Home Depot. It was hard.
Anyway, once that was all taken care of Susan's family spent the rest of the day one yard over eating, drinking and chatting with a bunch of their neighbors. 
The end.

Susan is totally into Old Lady Style, 
here's why:

Susan treated herself to three desserts on Mother's Day
then spent the Day After pooping on the potty.

HAPPY Mother's Day, Girls!

Please Enjoy Sweet Brown

If you're inclined, go over and thank The Empress because Susan pinched Sweet Brown from her blog.

Susan disabled the word verification on her comments and heard an immediate cheer rise up from her pals The Zadge and Meg. You'll never have to prove you're not a robot again. Never again!

As if that weren't enough to accomplish in one evening Susan also got herself a pedicure.

Susan is unlike most women in the fact that she's NOT a fan of pedicures. She finds it almost intolerable to have another person handle her feet. The scraping and clipping and digging and sanding is really beyond what she can put up with. However, she likes the warm water and some of the rubbing and, of course, the finished product. 

For weeks she's been unable to spend the hour it would take to prep and paint her feet, not to mention the bending over. Bending is horrible, every time she does it she b*tches until she's upright again.

Susan can b*tch, just ask her family.

But, it became imperative to get her toes in order when she switched to her summer shoes last weekend. As a concession to her age she thinks she's going to have to screw her courage to its sticking place and get a pedicure from now on. At least from May through October.

A few posts back Susan ridiculed people who say babies are old souls. Two days later someone Susan likes used that phrase and Susan was all Arggggh but she forgave that person and doesn't think any less of them for having said such an asinine thing.


However, and she's not kidding, Susan forbids you to say the following;
Amazing
A touch of whimsy or whimsy or whimsical
Heartstrings
Blessed or you're blessed or I'm blessed. No blessed outside of church.


Susan gags with disgust every time she encounters the fake inspirational saying Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.
She's making an extreme gagging noise right now.


On an unrelated note Susan recently discovered that no matter how many rolls of Necco wafers she eats, she'll still be hungry.

Yesterday Susan looked good but today she needs a hair cut & dye job.

How does that happen so fast?

In one day she's two shades lighter and gray at the temples. If you remember Jim Jensen then you have an idea what Susan looks like.

She also needs a pedicure but she can't stand having anyone touch her feet. It's a real dilemma because she's getting less able to get down there to do it herself.

Oy.

Susan neglected to tell you about the most amazing part of her trip to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens yesterday.

The parking spot.

It was on the street directly across from the entrance.
Right across from the entrance!

It required that Susan make an aggressive U-turn on Flatbush Avenue, zoom up to the car exiting her prospective spot and sit there while being cursed at by all the inner city drivers she beat out.

Susan went to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens to see the cherry blossoms but they bloomed a month early & blew away last week. 


Instead she saw Japanese folk dancers and Samuari sword fighters and bonsai, tulips, bluebells, wisteria, koi, water lilies and peonies then stood in a grove of lilacs until she was woozy from their fragrance. It was a nice day.

Susan saw a sign outside a farm stand advertising cukes, she doesn't like when the names of vegetables are abbreviated. Shrooms drives her crazy, don't say that around her. She also hates when people tell you their baby is an old soul. What is that anyway? Susan assumes they're saying we're a**holes. Same with follow your heart. How can Susan take you seriously when you say that? She can't, that's how.
There's so many phrases that Susan hates but she's tired now & will write them down later.

Susan really hates the thankful list, each day it gets more laborious. She sits for an hour wracking her brain for 5 stupid things. F*ck being thankful, she's pulling the plug.

Let's talk about John Edwards.

Susan can't wait to rip open the newspaper every day and catch up on the lies, the money, the crazy baby-mama,the aliases, the laser like accuracy of the deceased wife, the immune aide, the dopey socialite and the former ambulance chaser who got too big for his britches.

Susan prays there'll be a made for TV movie. 

Susan is taking the day off from being grateful to share this article, make sure you look at all the pictures.

Today Susan is thankful for:

• John Edwards
• Things sauteed in butter
• Susan's new Philadelphia Museum of Art membership cards
• 2 tablespoons of brownie mix + 1 tablespoon of yogurt + 45 seconds in a microwave
• Having the foresight to keep a pair of slippers at work

Today Susan is grateful for:

• New York Post
• People doing what they're supposed to
• Hamburger Helper
• A bit of chocolate squirreled away
• 30 Rock reruns at bedtime

Today Susan is grateful for:

• Staying in bed to catch up on Jeff Lewis' Interior Therapy
• The Sunday papers
• All the wonderfulness contained in a cup of coffee
• Watching the rain
• Having her absent Brother In Law in town

Susan attended a seminar during the week and was manipulated by the speaker to make a rash commitment in front of his audience. Susan's good with addressing a room full of people, but she doesn't like when she's got to pull something out of her ass to fulfill a requirement she does not value.

The seminar started out to be very promising, the speaker was energetic, Susan liked her table mates and she was very excited about having a day away from the responsibilities of Acme Sweatshop. It soon became clear that content of the seminar was not what she thought it would be. Nonetheless, she would participate and learn then be out the door by 3:30pm. Not bad.

After the lunch break Susan's attention span really dropped off and she found herself daydreaming just like she was back in fifth grade. When the seminar preacher made everybody stand and answer a simple question Susan was unprepared.

What was Susan willing to commit to doing differently?

She had honestly answered a similar question before lunch and now she had to come up with something else. As she listened to the other participants give their commitments she reviewed her sparse notes. Nothing.

Now it was Susan's turn and she blurted out the least likely thing she would ever do;

Each day I will write down 5 things that I am grateful for.

OMG. Who is she now, Oprah? Susan felt sick inside. She had lied about maintaining an attitude of gratitude to a room full of strangers whom she would never see again. 

When she got home she was troubled by what she had done. She lied.

Susan used to be a liar. She used to lie to everyone except the person she would ultimately marry. Through a Herculean effort and self discipline she made herself become a truthful person. She might not tell you the whole truth, just what you need to know and she won't tell you that you look good in something when you don't. Neither will she differentiate between little white lies because they have just as much impact as big ones.

She does, however, reserve the right to lie about matters of opinion like saying that your party was fun or that your expensive kitchen remodel is beautiful.

So, for the next week Susan is going to post 5 things she is grateful for starting with:

• The spring breeze coming through an open window
• Her new Kitchen Aid mixer
• Having her children in the house
• Mangoes
• Being employed

Till tomorrow.

Susan came home with the most wonderful hand me down gift from the husband's daughter last week.

Susan had been admiring the impressively heavy workhorse on a shelf and the next thing she knew it was sailing through the air in a haze of fairy tale glitter right into the trunk of her car.

Susan put her f*cking awesome gift to use the morning after she got home by mixing together some softened cream cheese, cheddar cheese, bacon, cilantro, cumin, chipotle & lime, forming it into a ball then rolling it in roasted nuts and more bacon.

Heaven, thy name be cheese ball.

Hello everybody, Susan's back!
She was down in the areas of North Carolina with the highest concentration of former New Yorkers visiting the husband's daughters.

And his four grand kids;
a two, twin threes & a five.

Susan did things she doesn't normally like to do such as handle caterpillars, sit on the floor and play with blocks, come within kissing distance to a cow, eat her broccoli with enthusiasm, sing the Clean Up song from Barney, assist as necessary in the potty, run across the lawn like a zombie, bake a cake using imprecise measurements and exhaust herself by pushing a kid in a small car around a bumpy back yard.

She also avoided a hated environment by texting her way through an amusement park then sneaking off for a solitary margarita.

Susan was relieved to find only the tiniest amount of little kid bullsh*t in evidence. There was no overt manipulation, no whining, hysterics, tantrums or other unpleasant and childish behavior, just a week's worth of excited conversation from happy children.

Susan spent 48 terrific hours in Philly with her family. You may recall that the last time she was there she had a spontaneous claustrophobic episode, but she stayed away from that place and everything worked out fine.

This time she went over to South Street and stood on line for an hour  to eat a divine sandwich made by a fella wearing a hairnet over his beard. She wasn't even bothered when she saw his giant can of Cheese Whiz.

Afterward, Susan walked down the street to PAT where she found her *favorite book and bought it along with some other stuff including a horribly ugly metal thing that the daughter liked.

*Click HERE to read an excerpt.

She saw many wonderful things in the neighborhood, including but not limited to a confident young lady strolling in her black and gold cat suit with the strategic cut outs, entire buildings clad in intricate mosaics and mirrors, some neat graffiti and record stores.

Stores that sell records!

Philadelphia is crazy.

They took the long way back to their hotel and walked through Chinatown for bubble tea and all the other things they love about Chinatown like seeing entire pig heads in store windows.

The next day they went to see this exhibit and met up with the biggest afro outside of Sly Stone.

Before they left Susan found that Philadelphia has the most charming little cobblestone back streets, the best music blasting out of their car windows and the largest number of men dressed like women that she's encountered in one weekend.

A gentleman roughly the age of Susan's old man offered to massage her feet today when he learned that her shoes pinched.

It was a shame that she could not accept.

Verbatim conversation initiated by a person of suspicious cleanliness as he and Susan and her little sister all exited the NYC subway system.

Are you a rider?

Am I a rider?

Susan thought perhaps he was going to ask for directions and was getting ready to point him back toward the subway map.

Are you a writer?

Am I a writer?

Susan thought perhaps he was going to ask her how to write something down.

Are you a writer?

It was evident that he was getting aggitated with Susan but she still didn't understand what he was trying to communicate so she asked one more time for clarity;

Do I ride or do I write?

Are you a writer?

Yes, I can write.

Are you a WRITER?

The time limit for Susan's interest in continuing the conversation ran out.

No.

As they walked away Susan's little sister said quite cheekily maybe he recognized you from your BLAHg.

Remember back when Susan had her vegetable peeler epiphany?

Well, it took three months but Susan purchased herself a new vegetable peeler. She also purchased a bamboo drawer organizer allowing her to throw out the shoebox tops. Um, she means recycle the shoebox tops.

Last week while minding her own business in a store which sells such things, Susan ran across the loveliest l'orange Le Crueset.

Cast iron covered in two coats of enamel. Even at a discount it was as expensive as it was heavy so Susan went home and thought about it.

A few days later Susan introduced the daughter to her future heirloom and made a pot of chili in it.

Just in case you missed it last week:
click HERE.
Even teenaged houseguests drink it.

Susan could not foresee that an impulsive Friday night purchase of a pretty shower curtain would put her behind the toilet Saturday morning scrubbing grout with a toothbrush.

Susan yelled at the husband tonight.

She yelled and yelled and yelled, she yelled so much she foamed at the mouth a bit then she yelled some more. She threw silverware and said f*ck a bunch of times all followed by YOU!

Did everyone enjoy the first day of Spring too?

Susan needs a new cell phone.
She is completely disinterested in having her cell phone do anything other than make a few phone calls and text. And maybe have a good ring tone like the Munster's theme song.

She is not a big fan of talking on the phone in general and definitely doesn't like holding a tiny cell phone up to her ear, it makes her arm hurt.

She likes to text. Her current phone has a rotary dial which is horrible for texting.

She doesn't care about taking pictures with her phone. She is often trapped standing around waiting for someone to scroll through a billion pictures on their phone till they get the one they want to show her. The best one. She doesn't need to be one of those people.

She doesn't want internet access. She can GTS at home.

GTS is a acronym that Susan's formerly recurring houseguest uses, it means Google That Shit. She likes to say GTS because only the houseguest and the husband know what it is.

Now you guys know too.

She doesn't like to have interactions with real people interrupted to look at something funny on You Tube. Even if it's totally f*cking hilarious it can wait till she's home.

The only other thing Susan does with her phone is use it to wake her up sometimes, like if she takes a nap in her car.

Susan is so disinterested in choosing a new phone that she has abdicated that responsibility to her daughter and provided her with the following criteria;
that it have a qwerty keyboard
be EASY to use
and have good consumer reviews

More on this as it develops.

It's been months since Susan spent money on anything other than a bill, or stuffing a wedding envelope, so she and the daughter celebrated the holiday of their heritage in Macy*s and Forever 21.

The first of Susan's goals was to make her daughter happy, which is not difficult because Susan raised her to be happy. The other goal was for Susan to increase her Plan B dress repertoire so she will always have a suitable fancy dress for such occasions when she needs to wear one.

Susan went back & forth into the dressing room with arm fulls of dresses and came out with one worth taking home. On sale even.

As always, Susan encountered other moms shopping with their daughters and took notice of how they attired themselves. There were all manner of horrible hair color on display and she's not talking about crazy teenage hair, she means the moms. Fried yellow hair with black roots seems to be popular as are matronly nips busting through the double layers of brassiere and tee shirt. Mercifully, Susan didn't see much evidence of mom jeans.

Sidebar: There is a wonderful photo on Cousin Lisa's fridge of Susan wearing mom jeans circa 1998.

While searching for the daughter's school sportswear Susan found a rack of stretchy pants, yoga pants to some, all at a nice discount. She grabbed everything in her size and found one pair that fit perfectly. She was all ready to purchase them in duplicate for home lounging when she noticed something a little off.
A snugness in the crotch area.
She readjusted the pants, bent down then stood up but it was still there.

Sadly, Susan left the camel toe stretchy pants on the dressing room rack.

Last stop was Trader Joe's for all the things Susan loves including, but not limited to;
Dark chocolate covered ginger
multiple bags of frozen dumplings, frozen pot stickers and frozen Creamy Polenta with Spinach and Carrots,
multiple jars of Spicy Smoky Peach Salsa,
and two new cheeses to try, Irish cheddar with Porter, and English Cheddar with wholegrain mustard and ale.
She apologizes to her countrymen for mixing the Irish and English in the same cart.

Susan hopes that everyone had a HAPPY Saint Patrick's Day.

Green Orange Julius Smoothie

Susan made this and everyone in the house liked it except for the daughter, but she's a food baby anyway.

Susan was wearing a shiny shirt the other day and noticed that it clung to her middle. She didn't like that.

Damned cookies.

The next morning as she was getting dressed for Acme Sweatshop the husband came over to give her a kiss then pressed in to give her a hug.

You have a tummy he said as if he were a scientist making a discovery.

Susan saw a line of yellow daffodils blooming this morning!

Susan took her spiked coffee and stood on the main street in her town to watch the local St. Paddy's Day parade.

There were bag pipers, cancer survivors, policemen on bicycles, green spray painted dogs, live bands on flatbeds, twirlers, girl scouts, boy scouts, teenagers with britches falling  beneath their bums, Irish dancers, multiple redheaded girls, firemen, zombies, a priest blessing the crowd, award winning cheerleaders, classic cars, youngsters driving tractors, a drunk guy who fell down and couldn't get back up and a town full of people happy to be out in the sun with their families.

Susan ran into her son and two of his friends travelling on their own and observed him to be just as well behaved on the street as he is at home.

While other folks were using their Friday night for recreational pursuits like meeting friends, going to the movies or having sex, Susan was removing the no longer edible food from her fridge.

She found the balance of the white rice from the other night and understood with intense clarity that she must turn it into rice pudding immediately.

The fact that she was tired and it was almost 11pm proved no match against her need to make rice pudding.

The rice was hard, like plastic pellets but she was undeterred.

Her recipe binder was under construction so there was no telling where her rice pudding recipes might be. She googled leftover rice pudding recipe and liked the first one she saw.

This one.

Susan stood at the stove and stirred the milk, rice and sugar with one hand while she rubbed her eyes with the other. She regretted not having any raisins on hand but the kitchen was warm, the vanilla was fragrant and she was completely enjoying watching it all thicken and become creamy until it was the perfect specimen of rice pudding.

She fantasized about eating the whole thing for breakfast.

Anyway, this is now her current fave recipe except that's she going to knock down the sugar to 1/3 cup.

Susan loves to chop up all her leftovers & make a big mess of fried rice. She seasons it with onions, lots of salt & pepper, soy sauce and maybe some other stuff. It's a very availability based composition.

She always includes a few eggs which she scrambles in the pan before she adds the rice.

The other day she forgot the eggs. Drats!

She quickly made some sunny side up, threw them on top, mixed them in and made the the most delicious thing in the universe.

Susan loves egg yolk.

Cousin Veronica's Photo Booth

While getting her family ready for cousin Veronica's wedding over the weekend Susan pitched a hysterical fit when she overhead her son ask his father if he knew where his solitary pair of dress pants were.

What do you mean you don't know where your pants are what the f*ck are you going to wear why didn't you make sure ahead of time they were clean and hung up and where's your father why wasn't he involved in getting this taken care of what's the matter with both of you we have to leave in an hour!

Susan relaxed once the son produced the wrinkled pair of pants from the depths of a drawer and set to work making them wearable. It was determined that he required a new belt so the boys took a quick trip to buy one while Susan took a hot shower.

All spit shined with newly shaved legs and armpits Susan emerged and began gathering the pieces of her outfit. She only had one viable dress because her new purple dress had been worn at the last family wedding and all the others required some manner of tailoring.

Hmmmm. The dress was not in her closet.

She walked down the hall to her son's closet where she keeps her modest clothing overflow stashed.

No dress.

She just wore it in December, she knew it was in the closet.
She checked again.

No dress.

OMG, the dress is in the drycleaner!

Susan has to leave in 35 minutes and her dress is in the drycleaner!

OMG, it's almost 6pm, what time does the drycleaner close?

Sometimes when life is hurtling toward a dismal conclusion and all hope is lost because you're going to have to wear the same purple dress twice in front of everyone, the universe reaches out and gently delivers you across the finish line.

Susan phoned the husband. He knew where the dress was. He had the drycleaning ticket in his wallet. The drycleaner was still in the store even though they normally close at 5:30.

Cousin Veronica got married and everyone had a wonderful time.