Friday was Susan's payday, it started with a pedicure and ended with a rack of ribs.
Susan's social circle has failing eyesight, when no one was able to see the menu the husband stepped in to read it out loud. After dinner, one member tore open a Wet Nap and attempted to pour it into his coffee.

Earlier in the week Susan was faced with a bare cupboard, so she took home some of the basil from the garden at Acme Sweatshop and made pesto. Susan had never fed her family pesto before, but five minutes worth of work turned her into a hero. She's going to fill her freezer with the stuff. Pesto is besto.

Susan has seen The Godfather a thousand times, and every scene is her favorite, but she really loves the ones with Robert DeNiro and old New York; the dirt, immigrants, tenements, carts of fruit, fires in trash cans, crying babies and saints being paraded down the street.

Susan loves when the young Vito Corleone stalk the pompous Don Fannuci over the rooftops then waits for him in the shadow of a doorway with a towel wrapped around the gun. BOOM! Skinny Vito shoots the fat don in the heart, then in the face. But, that's not enough so he shoves the gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger then uses his foot to knock him over.

After that Vito is like King Sh*t around the neighborhood, vendors give him bags of oranges 'my gift', they say, old ladies come to him with their problems and the rest fall all over themselves to stay on his good side.

Susan never passes The Godfather on TV without stopping to watch it even if she had other things to do.

Susan walked all 1.4 miles of the High Line and then some. The husband remarked on the number of men he saw holding hands or kissing and she reminded him that he was in their neighborhood, and wasn't it nice to see people enjoying each other's company? 

After the lengthy meandering walk, Susan walked some more up and down the streets of Chelsea. She hit as many galleries as she could in the hour before they closed and managed to cram in some Keith Haring & Andy Warhol, pretty mosaic butterflies covered in diamond dust by Damian Hirst, crying Marilyn Monroes by Russell Young, cheeky silkscreens by Charming Baker and something that looked like a butcher's diagram of cuts of meat by Jean Michel Basquiat. Susan also saw things by artists she didn't recognize which inspired the most amount of conversation between herself and the husband.

Susan is also a big fan of street art.

After a bland dinner of under-whelming food prepared by the husband, Susan was craving salt. She rummaged around until she came up with a bag of dark chocolate chips and decided that she would settle for sugar. Susan doesn't usually keep sweets on hand and this was a pretty nice score so she dropped onto the couch with her booty to watch Hoarders.

Susan looked forward to spending her Friday night in front of the TV with a bag of chocolate chips. In the interest of self restraint she ate the chocolate chips one by one. This worked until she transitioned to eating them by the hand full. Very shortly thereafter Susan didn't feel well. In fact, it was a surprisingly quick turnabout.

How did such a great idea turn into such a bad idea?

She started belching chocolate, and flatulating something much more foul, neither of which provided provided relief from feeling like she was getting ready to vomit.

Oh my, she thought.

The husband cracked her open a bottle of seltzer, poured the magical fizzy remedy into a red Solo cup filled with ice and made her drink. More belching and flatulating transpired, but Susan began to feel better and gastrointestinal disaster was averted.

Susan wishes everyone a great weekend.

Susan's potted fig tree now has five figs.
Five!
Every day Susan excitedly completes a visual inspection, and using the fingers on her hand takes a quick count. Once that's done she spends a few moments admiring her five beautiful figs before moving on to fantasizing about harvesting the figs, about putting them on a pretty plate and bringing them to a party. 

Possible fantasy conversation;

What are these, dates?
No, they're figs.
Figs? Where did you get them?
From my tree.
Your tree? Do you live in Israel?
No, down the block.
You're so lucky to have a fig tree. 
I know!

Or, her fantasy could become more complex, involving food preparation;

She could be hosting the party, wearing her vintage Indian tunic and some dangly jewelry. In her fantasy she would chop the figs, toss them with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar and the teeniest pinch of black truffle salt then let them sit while she toasted some baguette slices. She would top the toasts with the figs, some cracked black pepper and fresh goat cheese made from the goats in her yard. 

Her yard of fig trees. 

Here's the stuff Susan's dreams are made of:

Susan keeps a pair of leather slippers embroidered with gold thread under her desk at Acme Sweatshop. They're very simply constructed and minimally durable, but perfect for when her feet hurt. Susan was wearing her work slippers when she walked into a room being prepared for carpeting. The realization that the floor had a layer of adhesive was immediate. A split second.

One of the workmen sprang into action removing much of the sticky, tacky, smelly glue but it wasn't good enough. As Susan walked down the hall her slippers stuck to the floor and she heard at least one person guffaw.

Susan's solution was to lay down two sheets of copy paper and step on them. She walked with her flapping copy paper slippers over to get a pair of scissors and following the outline of the sole she cut away the excess.

Good as new and back to work.

For the last two weeks Susan has been too hot to BLAHg. And too lazy. It's exhausting arranging words in a clever order.
She's also spent that time fighting with the husband and being disgusted with her children because they're lazy.
Just like her.

Some things that happened during her Lazy Heatwave BLAHging Blackout were:

• Susan saw a sign in a store window that read; All My Blessings Call Me Mother
• One of Susan's blessings turned fifteen
• Susan has a new fave used bookstore
• Susan's other blessing presented her with Kanye's new record, and even though she likes some of the music she can't listen to the words. Click here and refer to just about any song
• Susan's fig tree has two figs!
• She spent a Sunday reorganizing her pantry-slash-laundry room
• She bought some cheeky postcards in NYC
• Susan had a conversation at a traffic light with a guy driving a '74 Gremlin

The heat index inside Susan's house is OPPRESSIVE.
Heaven help the person who leaves the ice tray barren, doesn't make a new pitcher of iced tea or refill the Brita carafe for they will be on a collision course with a hot b*tch. And not the sexy kind.

She narrowly avoided a full on freak out yesterday when she couldn't find the paddle attachment to her ice cream maker.

In hot weather the house is kept dark, fans are turned on and Susan shuts down limiting her movements solely to declaring how hot it is. She dons her hot weather wardrobe which is any number of loose fitting dresses or skirts, often wearing the same thing from Friday night through to Monday morning then changing back into it after work. Currently, it's a layered cotton skirt that her daughter urged her not to buy from a church thrift shop.

When she can't cool off she'll jump into the pool. She risks triggering a little claustrophobia but she can generally use the highly focused powers of her mind to overcome it.

Susan is awesome.

Swing-A-Way

What's an awesome summer without a vintage ice crusher for Susan's cocktails? 

Susan and her Aunt Eileen spent a Saturday going to yard sales. Upon first sight Aunt Eileen said I'm going to buy this for you and then bargained it down to less than ten dollars.

Susan's Swing-A-Way ice crusher's got a pretty gnarly grindy blade thing under the hood, Susan thought she heard a cube scream as she shoved it down there and cranked it into little frozen pebbles for her alcoholist pleasure.

Awesome.

Susan celebrated her independence from a fully functioning laptop by dropping it onto the floor and breaking the hinge. Now she can't close it. 
She also broke the left shift key.
Other than that, it's just as aggravating as it ever was. 

Susan's fig tree is potted and in her front yard sucking up as much sun as is available on the shady property.

Two Friday nights ago Susan celebrated the first day of her awesome summer by having dinner on the water. Susan drank a cocktail served in a bucket and there was music appropriate for line dancing supporting a healthy cougar scene; plenty of sparkles, cleavage and cowboy hats. 

Awesome.

Last Friday night Susan took her family to see Jaws on the deck of the aircraft carrier Intrepid. 
While driving through NYC Susan took note of an attractive girl in a purple dress. Susan watched as the girl walked, her purple dress being hiked up higher and higher until her entire left buttock was exposed. No panties. Afterwards they spent a warm, breezy night on the mighty Hudson River with the Empire State Building all lit up in rainbow colors behind them. Even the demonstratively controlled teenage wrestler said Oooh upon the sight of it.

Editor's note: Susan would like to wish everyone an enjoyable Independence Day and reiterate that FREEDOM IS NOT FREE. 

Susan uses old tree stumps in her yard as side tables and additional seating. Until recently they were all situated around the fire pit, but then they fell apart. 
They totally disintegrated. 
Since their sad demise Susan has been on the hunt for new stumps. She needs them to be a particular height and width but most of all, they must be level. 

She told Wild Bill, a bonifide tree guy, and he assured her that he'd throw some world class stumps into the back of a truck and bring them over. Unfortunately, he returned to Dueling Banjos, NC before he could accomplish this mission, leaving Susan bereft of stumps.

For months, any time she saw a pile of tree stumps she'd assess their size and shape but always found them lacking. 

Passing by her next door neighbor's house Susan's heart stopped. 
Stumps!
An entire row of perfectly dissected stumps were set out at the curb. She, the husband and daughter rolled the four best ones home. They were heavy bast*rds and required quite an effort just to make the short trip to Susan's house. Once there it was impossible to get them over the curb. She left them in the street and waited for her son, the wrestler to get out of the shower.

The wrestler said that he would do it tomorrow, which is his response to almost everything he's asked to do. Susan insisted he roll her stumps into the backyard. The wrestler went outside and like an angry gorilla with super strength he picked them up one by one and heaved them over the fence into the yard. 
When he caught Susan's stunned look, he almost smiled, but opted to maintain his angry teenage demeanor instead.
As it should be.

Susan's stumps are awesome.

Susan loves figs.

Susan never even thought of figs until a few years ago when she took her kids to the most horriblest place in the world and made the acquaintance of her husband's elderly auntie, Rose.

Aunt Rose brought over a plate of green figs plucked from a tree in her yard, they were soft, sweet and shaped like tear drops. Susan had never seen figs shaped like tear drops, only like Fig Newtons.
She ate them all.

A few years later Susan read this article about the abundance of fig trees in Brooklyn. Fig trees in Brooklyn! Susan and Brooklyn live on different parts of the same island, if Brooklyn can grow fig trees then why can't Susan?

Susan filed that thought away & continued to seek out the expensively succulent fruit in the supermarket.

Two weeks ago the Old Folks came up to sleep in Susan's basement for ten days. While on a recon mission to the supermarket Susan found a gigantic flat of gorgeous figs and tossed her old man's Ensure overboard to make room for them. Once home no one showed the same interest in them as Susan did, and based on their limited shelf life Susan feared the plump little cherubs would turn into moldy old hags before they could be eaten.
She researched ways to use the figs; baked into tarts, roasted with cheese, sliced in salad, grilled and drizzled with balsamic or made into a simple jam.

The jam won.

Susan loves to spread jam on things or mix it into brownies, oatmeal, homemade thick yogurt and smoothies. She doesn't can, but she makes easy fruit butters which keep in the fridge for at least a season.

On Sunday Susan and the husband were headed to warehouse style membership club to redeem a 90 day trial offer and purchase a very specific list of items. Along the side of the road Susan saw a handmade sign that read FIG TREES. One U-turn later Susan & the husband were in a hidden thicket getting the low down from a Greek lady on how they must plant, prune & baby their two year old tree. 

Susan is going to keep her fig tree in a pot for at least the first year so that she can bring it inside for the winter. 

The awesome summer has begun.

Susan forgot mention that she thought she saw a prostitute a week or so back.

She was driving to work when she took notice of a tall black girl with a Bettie Page coiffure. Generally black girls and that particular hair style do not go together, but scratch the fact she was black if you feel it's not relevant.

Bettie was heavily tattooed (isn't everyone?) with super tight pants and she wore her cut off t-shirt to resemble more of a tube top. Her hand was down her shirt adjusting her right boob. Susan was waiting for her to pull it out on the street and was relieved when she didn't. Instead she went on to fiddle with her clothing and swing her hair around in a manner indicating that she was very comfortable drawing attention to herself.

Susan admired her confidence and fantasized that Bettie was headed to her x-ray technician class where she'd change into her scrubs, flirt with the boys and be all smart.

Who doesn't love an awesome crazy Buddha on Monday?
Nobody, that's who.

Susan's not even sure this is Buddha, but she's positive it's Monday.

Susan had a birthday last week.

Way back in 1960, her mother smoked while Susan was in utero, 'everyone did'.
Afterwards Susan was born the old fashioned way; her mother was anesthetized into unconsciousness and her father stayed in the waiting room.
Susan shares her birthday with Cole Porter, Happy Rockefeller and Johnny Depp. 

For this year's birthday Susan made fig jam (fresh figs, lime juice, sugar). She also juiced a watermelon, added vodka, lime juice, mint-infused simple syrup and ice. 

During periods of Susan's absence that assh*ole Anonymous leaves all sorts of stupid comments which don't even have anything to do with anything. 

Does Anonymous even read? 
Susan doesn't think so.

Anonymous probably needs a lot of attention, and Susan finds those types to be a drag to hang out with.

Needy Anonymous better f*cking stop leaving comments on Susan's BLAHg or the sh*t's gonna go down.

Susan heard an advertisement for some forgotten product or service in which the announcer suggested she and her family 'have an awesome summer!'

This made her mad.

As if all she had to do was withdraw the imaginary money from the non existent bank account and fund her awesome summer. She berated the husband about the unlikelihood of having an awesome summer.

As a courtesy, he allowed Susan to brainstorm ideas guided by her many restrictions. She doesn't like the heat, she can't swim, she doesn't like cruises or amusement parks or physical activities like skiing or biking or anything insane like hang gliding or white water rafting, whatever that is.

Susan likes to lay around and do nothing on vacation. In fact, a perfect vacation might be spent sitting in the shade with a book while being left alone. Unfortunately, her family finds this boring.

She developed a plan to have an awesome summer, something that two increasingly disengaged teenagers and an easily bored husband would enjoy. Exciting, modern, urban and within her budget.

Susan's awesome summer will be broken down into a series of day trips to the greatest city in the world. 

This allows her to feel less like a frustrated b*tch about having zero vacation plans.

Thus far Susan has only two invitations for the whole of the summer and she used one up on Saturday night, as a result she required a four hour nap on Sunday.

The party had signature cocktails, flowers in the toilet and everything served was prepared by the hostess. Later, Susan and the husband got lost trying to drive out of the maze like neighborhood filled with giant houses. 

To be fair, Susan also gets lost driving out of her own maze like neighborhood filled with teeny houses.

The weekend was hot. Susan's not accustomed to hot and her body didn't know what to do, so it slowed down making her more lethargic than usual. That's essentially like not moving. Over three days all she did was take showers and sleep except for Saturday night when she added drinking liquor and socializing.

She needs Monday so things can get back to normal.

HAPPY June first, guys. Susan would like to congratulate everyone for making it through half the year. The second half is the preferred half, at least up till Xmas. What does the first half have anyway? Desolate January & February? Useless March? April and May are good, but June through November are better.

As you can see, Susan's working on a comeback, she just has to get out of her bad mood first. 

Wish her luck, won't you?

Ed note: Any resemblance to the last line of Meg's post is purely coincidental. And awesome!

Happy Mothers Day!

Susan wants to be the first to say how much she hated Gatsby.
Ugh.
The outfits and music were good, but after a while even that bored her because she hated the movie so much.
Here's a short but comprehensive list of everything she hated; 

• all the characters 
• and all the actors particularly Tobey Maguire

Who will stand with Susan and admit that they hated Gatsby too?

Susan had an exciting weekend which started out on with a pre-dawn phone call getting her out of bed and headed to work on her day OFF. Susan is a very mature person so she forced herself not to act all hysterical just because she got four hours sleep and her Saturday plans were f*cked up.

Those plans included hosting a home jewelry party later that evening. She did her best to entice her friends and family to attend what was essentially a business function by tarting it up with a Cinco de Mayo theme. Just for hosting she would get a very pretty and overpriced necklace for free. So easy! 

She felt kind of funny inviting people to an expensive costume jewelry party, but she went ahead and made bright tissue paper flowers and fantasized about laughing with her guests over margaritas, mango salsa, empanadas and spicy Mexican brownies.

Once Susan got home she put on mariachi music and lit her collection of Mexican candles; San Ramon, Nuestra Senorada de Altagracia and Nuestra Senora del Perpetuo Socorro then Little Sister came over and they made the empanadas. 

The amount of guests expected was small, but Susan had no fear, it would be an intimate group. Unfortunately, as the afternoon progressed each of the attendees texted their regrets until no one was left.

A hostess' nightmare realized; she threw a party and no one came.

An alternate plan was put into action. Susan, little Sister and the husband set up chairs around the fire pit and enjoyed the first outdoor fire of the season then went inside and watched Fawlty Towers till it was time for bed. 

At approximately 2am Susan was awakened by the husband running a shower for their drunk, under age son  who was vomiting in the living room. This is the first time they had encountered their son in that condition so Susan took down his baby book from a shelf in the closet to notate the milestone.  

The son locked the bathroom door, as is his habit, and got into the shower. At some point he stopped responding when his father called to him which necessitated the door being bashed in.

Sidebar: The key rests atop the door jamb. 

The son was taking a cold shower while lying in the tub. Eventually everyone made it into their beds and Susan went back to sleep.

Sunday morning Susan awoke with a POUNDING headache. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.  With no pain relievers in the house she took hold of the kitchen counter and tried not to pass out as she waited for the coffee to brew. 
Coffee, the magic elixir. 
Half way through her cup she was able to unclench her fists.

Sunday was super-duper. Susan learned a little more about her son's evening, including that he lied about where he was going, got drunk in the home of a classmate whose parents were onsite & then walked home through a dark, sidewalk-less neighborhood where getting run over is a very real possibility.

Susan went to the drug store bought a big bottle of Advil and an even bigger bottle of multivitamins specified for women over 50.

Excellent.

For the first time in months Susan;

• Finally saw buds on the trees in her neighborhood
• Opened her windows 
• Gave her toes a pedicure
• Went to yard sales
• Wore flip flops off premises
• Turned the outdoor spigot on
• Moved around the deck furniture

She is filled with hope that spring may actually have arrived

Susan LOVES cleaning the bathroom, she saves this treat for Saturday mornings, unless she was previously inspired to do so on Thursday night because someone made it smell like urine.

Let's talk about that.

It's been Susan's experience that people with penises pee on the floor. They probably start out pointing at the toilet, but the urine doesn't end up there. She's not quite sure what goes on to divert the stream, but at the very least they should clean up after themselves.

Saturday mornings find Susan on her hands and knees, her face inches away from a place not meant for faces, breaking her elderly back just so she doesn't have to lie in bed and smell urine.

You didn't know that Susan lived in a pig stye with farm animals, did you?
Well, her secret's out and she hopes you won't think less of her.

Hooray, it's a new work week!
Isn't that amazing!
A. May. Zing!

Who wants to hear about the delicious dinner Susan made when she got home from work?
Everybody does!
Well, hold on to your horses because she's going to tell you all about it.
Susan opened a box of cereal, dumped it in a bowl and poured milk over it.
Just like that.
Dinner!
OMG, and it was amazing!

Who wants to hear all about the totally awesome love story that Susan has with her amazing husband?
They're soul mates you know.
Well, he used to be married to somebody else and now he's married to her.
And she totally loves to listen to every word he says because he's awesome!

Her kids are awesome too because she made them in her own body using love and sperm!
It's an awesome combination.
She's so blessed!
She loves the word blessed because it's so amazing.

Susan loves EVERYTHING!
Don't you?

Susan fell down yesterday.

DOWN.

She hit a wet patch and the next thing she knew the floor was coming toward her face in slow motion.

Susan prefers to spend most of her time upright, or at least seated, so she was kind of stunned to find herself on the floor in front of an audience. Her enforced respite didn't last long, before she had a chance to yell OMG, what are you doing? her co-worker was picking her up in his arms. It took him two tries, because you're heavier than you look he explained.

Susan didn't seem to be any worse for wear and was tremendously relieved to see that nothing bad happened to her beautiful vintage pants, the lined ones with a wide cuff. Unfortunately, by the end of the day it was revealed that the heel of her much beloved shoe had been compromised.

Arghhh!

Susan ran out of underwear on the last day of the work week so she pinched a pair of the husband's briefs.
They fit although they came up a bit high, like granny panties. 

She wore the husband's briefs back when she was pregnant, they enveloped her in cottony happiness and greatly influenced her mood at the start of the day. Pregnancy is all about discomfort first, and the wonder of new life second, soft underwear was a big deal for Susan.

Of course, the current issue is how does an almost 53 year old woman run out of underwear?

It must be the same deficient household management that had her out of napkins, hand soap and ice cubes. Yes, Susan makes her own ice cubes just like a mid century modern housefrau, no fancy fridge for her. Not that she wouldn't f*cking LOVE a roomy fancy fridge with an ice maker and pull out freezer on the bottom so that she doesn't have to bend all the way down to search for the sour cream or pickles. 

More hausfrau: Susan made the mistake of lingering too long with Beverly Hills Housewife, Kyle and saw her wearing this fantastic faux protective garment and now she wants one.

Susan wanted to promote, once more, the exhibit that she loved so much in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It will be open until her birthday on June 9th in case you don't have anything better to do than see an interesting exhibit of graphic artwork by ordinary nobodies who, in many cases were working out their inner demons.

Last night Susan was sitting in her living room lamenting the dearth of material for her BLAHg when some movement outside the window caught her eye.

Mister Drunk, who you may recall lives in the house diagonally across the street, turned on the light and was walking around unclothed. Susan was fortunate enough to only catch his back end, but she'll admit to watching until he pulled his pants on and turned the light out.

This is not the first drunk neighbor's private area that she's seen while minding her own business. In her previous neighborhood she saw a twat and an ass on different summer days, both in the front yard.

Have a great Thursday, everybody!

Susan got out of the house last weekend and exposed herself to some art in Philadelphia. It was a last minute invitation extended by Susan's little sister and eldest niece when their original travelling companions dropped out. Susan doesn't harbor any insecurities about being second best so  she packed a bag, grabbed her daughter and ran out the door.

They started at The Rodin Museum:

                                    They went across the street to see a fantastic exhibit at the PMA:

                                After hours they sat on the grand staircase listening to Susan's most despised style of music, progressive jazz which was made tolerable through the magic of appetizers.

Their day ended with Indian food, which is truly Susan's idea of heaven.

The next morning everyone got up early and Susan discovered that her eldest niece becomes mouthy and unreasonable when she is hungry. While they waited for her to wrap up her morning routine they watched forty minutes of John Wayne, Sophia Loren and Rossano Brazzi travel through the Sahara desert.

Susan knows just what you're thinking and agrees; that is a crazy trio.

For breakfast they went to the Reading Terminal Market. Susan and her little sister dedicated part of their morning sniffing spices and teas before snagging some garam masala and smoked salt. 

The rest of the day was spent admiring the city:

                                                                                                               Eating lunch:

                            And supporting the Philly Aids Thrift Shop:

Before grabbing a bubble tea in Chinatown for the ride home.
Bye Philly, here's some big fake smiles!

                                        *Editor's note:
Three of the photos were taken without permission from Little Sister's FB page.

This Way!

This year Susan has been finding it impossible to BLAHg.
Impossible.

How can Susan BLAHg when she's got to;

• argue with the husband about how rude he is to tell her to 'go' after he interrupts her
• research why her yogurt curdled when she made curried meatballs in a creamy spinach sauce 
• rub the dog's ears till her fingers cramp
• explain to her son that he is in charge of his own life and if he's happy with sub-par accomplishments in school then she will just lower her expectations for him
• interview the under-communicative daughter at length to determine the source of her teenage anxiety
• Look up the definitions for words from her current reading material, including but not limited to cognoscenti (authority, expert), peripatetic (wandering, roving), leitmotiv (theme), leonine (eminent) 
• throw out bags of stale marshmallow and expired cans of chicken soup
• find out what that song was on the radio 

She hasn't even been able to keep up with her bloggy pals' blogs because she has no time for taking an interest in other people. Only if you're standing in front of her will you have the slimmest chance of getting some attention paid to you.

It would help if you were crying or banging a pot with a big metal spoon.

Susan celebrated the high holy day for her people by freezing her ass off in the street watching the St. Paddy's Day parade. 
The whole town turns out for this beloved public procession; adorable toddlers with grandparents, teenagers with cigarettes, and forty somethings in push up bras, boots and green feathers.

Girls, Susan understands that you're tethered between youth and oblivion, but you've got to get a hold of yourselves.

Susan remembers the shock of being in her forties...but I used to be in my thirties! she'd explain. No one cared.

It took a little while but she ended up really liking her forties; she went from being a depressed stay at home mom to a frustrated working mom, she discovered a secret stash of confidence and learned how to dress properly.

Color, proportion, neckline, hemline in that order.

Susan had a great time watching this funny movie at cousin Lisa's house with cousin Kathy, cousin Melissa, cousin Jeanette, cousin Danielle, cousin K8, Aunt Eileen, Anne the doctor's mother, and Wild Bill.

Something Susan ate, and she thinks it was the avocado, filled her with gas making her miserable through the next day and beyond. 

Sweet relief, thy name be flatulence.

Susan is so sick of people talking to her.
Talking and talking and talking. Talking over songs on the  radio. Talking while Susan is reading. Talking while Susan is meditating on the beauty of absolute silence.

Honestly, Susan doesn't care about your dog or the old neighborhood or Obama or who that guy is over there or anything that involves words coming out of your mouth.

Normally Susan loves to talk. I mean, she really friggin' LOVES it. But lately she's had her fill. Right up to the rim. She avoids conversations, even eye contact, particularly with the husband.

She has been sharing one car with him for almost a year. Her car. One car two people. Now the only time she's truly alone is in the shower.
The husband ruins the sanctity of her morning commute by talking through it. He has also revealed a few tremendously annoying habits which she has grown to HATE.

Twenty two years of living together has been no match for a year in the car.

Susan's mother has requested that Susan emerge from her mental sluggishness and BLAHg something.

Susan wants you all to imagine her rolling over in her cave, possibly even muttering screw off.

Susan really doesn't have much to say lately, her energy and ability to function like a normal person has been sucked out by Acme Sweatshop.

She saw a lawn filled with purple crocuses today, the first inkling of spring. It was pretty exciting at the time, but now eh. She hopes that by next week she'll be enthusiastic about daylight savings, and the week after that by St. Paddy's Day, but now eh

The lady who lives in the house behind Susan still has her Xmas tree visible in the livingroom, that's something Susan almost gets.

Susan grabbed this adorable little peanut from
NICK HOLMES. 

Susan's Weekend Project

Susan is going to combine two of her fave things this weekend and make a Sexy Nigella Guinness cake! 
Nigella describes it as magnificent in its damp blackness.
  
It will haunt Susan's dreams till then.

Snow Days

Susan went to Acme Sweatshop on Friday prepared to sleep over. Luckily, the husband was able to get her out and they took an expanded commute home dodging fishtailing cars and snowy ditches. They made it all the way to the end of their block before getting stuck.

Susan shoveled snow till she was dizzy and nauseous. She isn't used to performing manual labor beyond lifting a heavy cast iron pot to the stove. She doesn't have the stamina or the lower back of a young woman any more. She trudged home and dispatched her son to help his father while she shoveled knee deep snow from the street to the driveway.
Eventually the car made it up the driveway and her family members into the house where they've been ever since because Susan's block has not yet been plowed.

Susan has been thoroughly enjoying her snowy weekend relaxing in her PJs, making chili, catching up on her twistedsusaning, taking naps, corresponding with friends, making carrot ginger soup & Moroccan whole chickpea hummus, reorganizing her bedroom closet and doing all manner of leisurely indoor things.

Unfortunately, being snowed in also resulted in no Sunday papers and having to beg a hand me down can of Folgers from Susan's non-coffee-drinking next door neighbor who was nice enough to personally deliver the stuff in the height of the blizzard.  The Folgers can reads 'Wake Up To Rich, Pure Taste', they must be referring to any other coffee in the world because the brown water their grinds produce is foul and putrid.

Enjoy your week, guys!

Susan ate three pieces of Funfetti birthday cake and her stomach rumbled into the middle of the next day.

On this day seventeen years ago Susan became a mom.

Susan's son, age 3.25 years:
You stink, mom

Regarding a 4th birthday present:
He's a nice fish and a very good swimmer

Age 4.75:
Mom, it's so tricky to be good

Preschool note sent home by Miss Linda:
Sean was in time out many times today for spitting in his friends' faces

Age 5 sez canoonan when he means knish

In first grade:
Eating is gooder than learning because it makes you live.
How can learning make you LIVE?

First grade report card, 2nd trimester:
Sean continues to exhibit excessive talking. This can hurt him academically as he does not often listen to assignments. He often finishes last due to talking.

Question, unknown age:
Except bombs, what can explode?

Age 7.75 at the dinner table:
But mommy, I've already had enough bad stuff today
then crying:
It's the horriblest squash in the world!

Age 10, upon seeing a picture of Klansmen:
Why are they dressed like Hershey Kisses?

Age 16.99:
I want a Funfetti cake for my birthday