Susan personally witnessed Spring busting out all over the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens on Sunday!
She saw fields of daffodils, forsythia, plump and perfumed magnolias, Japanese flowering cherry trees and all manner of little green buds awaiting their turn to pop open and make a spectacle of themselves.
She even saw a bride or two.

 
During their visit Susan established a few guidelines for casual travel;
Don't rely soley on GPS. Susan would have benefited from a teeny bit of prep work to know exactly where she wanted to end up.
Don't make fear-based decisions. She doesn't have to jump into the first available on-street parking space.
Bring snacks. She knows this, she just got lazy.

On her way home Susan's daughter suggested they stop by an awesome seventies vintage store where Susan purchased a super fab tie dyed wrap skirt* that was representative of what may have hung in her own closet circa 1977.

 
*Editor's note: Susan's closet did not contain tie dyed anything, ever, but she did own a number of long, Indian printed wrap skirts which she wore into the early eighties.

Susan got a good night's sleep and woke up as if she were reborn. She didn't jump out of bed or anything, high energy is not her style, but the crushing stupor was gone & her mental attitude was returned to its normal condition.

While out replacing the husband's scotch-taped-together phone Susan observed a forty something woman in a baggy sweatshirt, floppy plaid flannel pajama pants & flip flops exit an expensive SUV with her teenage daughter.
As the sloppy mommy drew closer to Susan's location she remarked 'pajamas incoming' inspiring everyone within earshot to look over and watch sloppy mommy walk in.

God punished Susan later when she lost an earring & pair of expensive prescription sunglasses.

The CEO is Dead

Susan resigned from Acme Sweatshop this week.

Susan is at peace with her decision even though quitting without having another gig lined up may appear a little insane. She believes herself to be entitled to this sabbatical and alternates between feeling happily relaxed and somewhat untethered.
It's very unusual for her not to be working.
She has replaced those 40 + hours by slicing her thumb while using a sharp knife, driving around with the sunroof open, figuring out how to make pulled pork, scheduling a colonoscopy and missing her co-workers.

Susan's wardrobe also reflects her non-working status. She wears what she calls her Backyard Collection, a less ironed, more lived in version of her work clothes. The only criteria is that she look good and not be afraid to ruin anything when she sits down on a dirty Adirondack chair.
Everyone knows how Susan feels about looking unkempt. There's no reason for it.
Yesterday, while sitting outside the bank waiting for her son to deposit his $12.99 income tax return, she observed a standard issue mom from her neighborhood; sloppy, hair a mess, dressed like a bum climbing into an expensive SUV.
Ladies, is this how we want to represent ourselves?

Join Susan as she navigates her Summer of Unemployment and see which of her own standards she lowers.

Burberry Rain Boots

Susan favorite utilitarian footwear are her Burberry rain boots. They may start the day as part of a stylish outfit and end up slogging through the backyard while Susan picks up dog sh*t.
And when they are left out on the front steps all summer Susan just hoses out the spiders and beetles and sets them upside down to dry.

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.

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.

Susan's Fall Wardrobe

Susan took the opportunity afforded by the seasonal rotation of her clothing to get rid of half of what she owned. There wasn't much to begin with, just what her closet will accommodate, roughly two weeks worth of outfits. She has a lot of black because she can always find black, but she does what she can to incorporate things that aren't black as well. When she's got money she loves nothing more than to try spending it on clothing in nice stores with coffee bars. But, when funding is tight Susan relies heavily on the thrift store.

Susan and the thrift store had a rocky start; she was home with small children and needed to compile a work wardrobe on the dirt cheap. She was filled with shame and dread that someone would discover her poking through other people's old clothes. That was until she found something she liked.

Susan can remember exactly what she purchased in those early days; the fitted jackets vaguely reminiscent of the '40s, a black and white herringbone skirt, a large tote with a great lining and Kate Spade label, the strands of pearls with pretty clasps. She's not immune to mistakes with her thrifty choices, like a certain shiny gray tailored shirt, some short pleated skirts and a pair of mom jeans. There's more, but Susan learns from her mistakes, she's also developed some rules for how to wear other people's old clothes.
Only one piece of vintage at a time.
If something is a little extreme like a tapestry jacket with three quarter sleeves everything else has to be simple.
It's OK to spend fifteen dollars in alterations on a five dollar skirt.

On Saturday Susan turned twenty five dollars into two tailored shirts and a soft white button down sweater, the type that I Love Lucy might wear. Then she went home, did her laundry and spent an hour ironing everything in her closet. She didn't mind at all.

More Sloppy Sisters

Over the last few days Susan has seen some appalling examples of fat ass peek-a-boo, nipple protrusion and boobage overspill.

Susan hopes that she doesn't offend anyone who might object to the term fat ass, she'd just like to make the point that this particular ass was truly fat.
As were the boobs. Neither was fat enough to attract attention on their own, not unless they were completely unrestrained beneath the most threadbare combination of
t-shirt and capri pants, held up by a worn-out elasticized waist band, of which the ability to function properly had been extremely compromised.

Susan could not take her eyes off the large woman,
sans brassiere and underpanties, who was removing something from the trunk of her car,
as her bosoms slapped against everything within reach,
and her pants slid so far south that Susan was actually looking at the top half of an ass in broad daylight outside her son's Tae Kwon Do school.

The nipple protrusion, in tandem with boobage overspill, was witnessed by Susan in the middle school auditorium. The perpetrator was a mature woman, one who should already know how to determine the fit of her brassiere or use a mirror to assess her outfit before she walked out the door.
Unfortunately for everyone she didn't and left the house with two sets of busoms and one gigantic set of nipples, which presumably had been drilling their way to fresh air for some time.

The final, and most egregious example of boobage overspill was provided by a perfectly lovely young woman,
adorably attired in jeans and clingy layered t-shirts.
There is no reason why the upper portion of her boobs should spill so far out over brassiere that they rival the amount of boobs contained within the brassiere. Be assured, Susan's not talking about cleavage here, she's talking about sloppy boobie muffin top.

Ladies, check yourselves. Check each other.
Don't let your girls travel sloppy.

TWISTED Over Some Pajama Bottoms

Susan was sitting in a parking lot talking on the phone with her little sister when a van pulled into the spot next to hers. Out spilled three medium sized children and their mother, who appeared to be in the same age range as Susan, meaning not too young & not too old.

Mom was walking around in a condition similar to many other women observed by Susan. Beyond sloppy.

Starting at the top, Mom's hair was held back by a scrunchie. Not a crime, but it should be.
She was wearing what appeared to be her husband's sweat shirt. It was husband-shaped and husband-colored without an ounce of anything feminine discernible beneath. It made Mom square.
However, the next item was so offensive it made Susan have to write 300 bloody words about it just for some relief.
Pajama bottoms.

Susan understands that she can't go crazy over pajama bottoms and can live quite comfortably knowing they're contained to high schoolers or neighbors walking within the perimeter of their own yard. Susan doesn't understand how the high schoolers stay warm wearing pajama bottoms throughout the winter, but she's not their mother and they can do what they want.

However, when a grown woman appears in public with thread bare, faded, shrunken to the ankles, raggedy ass pajama bottoms Susan must speak up.
Not to the offending party of course, but in secret,
at home, to her modest fan base.

It was as if Mom had come directly from the sty,
clad in the clothes she fed the pigs in.
The condition of Mom's pajama bottoms were so deplorable they yelled, I don't care how I look anymore,
I really don't.
Susan doesn't understand this phenomenon prevalent among her forty-something suburban sisters.
Ladies, what up?

Susan Looks Unemployed

Susan's daughter came home from school, saw Susan & asked 'Aren't those the same clothes you had on yesterday?'
Then the husband came home from work, saw Susan & said 'Nice look.'
Susan responded that this was her Default Look.
'Reboot' sez he.