A Not-So-Scary Pet Cemetery And You Get A Voice On My Voice.

Who remembers the Steven King book/movie Pet Semetery? Scared the bejesus out of me. And why did they spell Cemetery with an S? That’s frightening as well.

We’ve lived in this house for 26 years and we’ve buried four cats and four dogs out there. *waves hands towards the back yard*

You know, when you’re young(ish) and placing your beloved pets into the ground, you think you will always remember where you put them.

File that under: Lies I told Myself.

I mean, we know the the general vicinity, but not an exact burial spot.

I had a lightbulb moment after losing both Callie and Lillie in such a short time span to place markers to help us remember. They are in an area that is the New Burial Area. The old burial area is near the pool area; basically we started fresh with no chance to ungrave anyone.

I’d ordered two heavy granite markers for our sweet girls from here and my MIL gave me this sweet flag for Christmas and it’s perfect in our new Cemetery.

The dates I used are from when they lived with us, not their actual birth year since I’m not in possession of their birth certificates and the Florida Bureau of Vital Statistics office won’t return my calls. Asshats.

Instead of showing photos, how about a VLOG?

Why is hearing my voice like hearing nails on a chalkboard? And they weren’t Butterfly Bushes (that’s what I call them) that were removed, the technical term is Fire Bush; but saying my fire bush was out of control doesn’t sound proper on a Tuesday morning.

*Shortly after, Peanut found a dead frog and proceeded to run around with it in her mouth like she’ d just found a billion dollars worth of cookies, with me following.

For a moment there, I envisioned ordering her a Grave Marker as well. KIDDING!

Not sure if I’ll do the VLOG thing again. I used to do them occasionally as they seem easier than trying to take appropriate photographs.

Chime in, please.

Have you buried pets in your yard or do you cremate?

I suppose I should be mindful of pet-free homes…

Have you buried any bodies in your yard?


Where The Weekend Went: Early To Bed, Aqua Cleaning, Multitasking And Again, My Poor Feet.

Hello, it’s me.

For your viewing pleasure: some orchids I found in the yard this weekend. To be clear, they weren’t hiding, but I don’t always know where or when they are gonna bloom.

The Coach was home the entire weekend. That is a first in months; he spent most of it finalizing plans for a Veterans Charity Event coming up in a few weeks and tackling a few honey-do’s.

We resumed our Friday Date Night. I made a reservation on Open Table for a place not too far from us for 6pm. We departed our home at 5:45 and we were back home at 6:58. Our dinner was lovely, but getting home at that time on a Friday night must mean we are steps away from the hereafter. No?

I’m definitely not on The Cocaine. I can’t even have iced tea after 2pm.

Getting home early meant we could finish the last episode of Ozark. I have issues watching shows like that too close to bedtime; they get me riled up and I can’t sleep. I was happy to end Ozark; I’ve had it up to here *reaches for the sky* with Wendy and Marty making bad decisions, and usually against each other. If it sounds like fictional characters were stressing me out, it’s because they were.

Photo of a male monarch I released on Saturday where zero stressing was involved.

If you had the inkling that my life is all glitz and glam (that always ends by 8pm), it is not. I spent a good portion of my weekend pulling weeds, trimming plants, planting plants and spreading bags of mulch. While wearing my flip flops, of course. When it was time to cool off, I went in the pool. Did I relax in said pool? You bet your sweet biscuits I didn’t. Our beautiful newly installed glass tile has calcium buildup/haze around the water features and the entire waterline.

*sigh* Do we have anything that is low maintenance?

The answer is NO.

That ain’t pretty.

I started the cleaning process in the shallow end last week with CLR and a scrub brush. It was taking more chemicals and elbow grease than I was comfortable with. So on Friday I went to the pool supply place and purchased a chemical spray MADE for just this situation and a large pumice stone.

Again, lots of elbow grease and by this time my toes were raw from the rough ass pool floor. *raises fists in the air wishing our pool contractor a lifetime of cold sores*

Have you ever tried to clean with a chemical spray in one hand and a scrub brush or pumice in the other WHILE TREADING WATER? That my friends should be an olympic sport.

Finally a few of my brain cells actually connected long enough for me to have an AH HA moment whist almost drowning in the deep end; I remembered I had some of these:


What a life and toe saver.

I’m not sure that my toes will ever be the same; it might be too late. If I had to do a Toe {finger} Print, I’d be doomed. I ordered some water socks for my pool time in the future as I try to do some water aerobics whilst in there between cleanings.

Why can’t I just DO ONE THING? Multitasking is a disease and I need a Dr. ASAP.

Spacey dude…now my feet tan lines are going to even weirder.

Nance, are you happy I covered my tootsies?

Are we the only ones who are having dinner earlier and earlier? Pretty soon we’ll be at Morrisons Cafeteria for their 4pm early bird special and cramming free crackers in my purse.

Do any of you remember going to an event that started after 8pm? I know we did, but now? Being out after 8pm wearing clothes and being pleasant towards other humans, well, that sounds like torture.


How Easy Going Am I? And The Services I Offer Are Pretty Special.

I had my annual eye appointment last week; I had put it off for two years and couldn’t any longer. I filled out all my paperwork online, but when I arrived, they had this additional survey for me; the scale on the bottom made me giggle.

Where would you be on the scale? Closer to easy going, or near perfectionist?

FYI, my eyesight is still 20/20. Thank you laser vision surgery. Now, if only I had actual Laser Vision, I could rule the world.

BTW: I chose closer to easy going. If the Coach reads this, he’s laughing his azz off. But I think it’s true. Maybe. Kinda. Actually, I think I was just caught off guard as I was pondering taking up Shooting/Hunting as a hobby for myself.


I found a milkweed plant in one area of my garden that was DECIMATED; Stripped down to a bare stalk with not a leaf to its name.

And then I found the culprits.

The natives monarch caterpillars were getting restless looking for food. Luckily, I had a full, healthy milkweed plant on the other side of the yard, so I did what any normal EASY GOING person would do: I transported them to the full plant.

Hello, my name is Suzanne, and today I’ll be your travel agent and chef.

Hay, ladi, coud u pease put me were da fud is?

Thank goodness that survey didn’t ask anything about my trying to control nature.

The feet! The filaments! I think they are the damn cutest things ever. I have to hold back on hugging them tightly because, you know, squishing.

So, would you classify yourself as Easy Going? More importantly why would my Eye Dr. Care? It’s not like we’re going to date or anything.


The Fall Heard Around The ‘Hood

Our place in GA has three really cute window boxes. Even though this is a ‘mountain home’ the previous owners really modeled this home after a cottage. A big azz cottage. We already knew they were Touched In The head, what with the fake doors, holding out on the beloved Southern Living Plans from 1997 and a myriad of other things. Am I complaining about our super wonderful home? No. Well, just a tad because i.can’t.help.it.

When we moved in, the window boxes were filled with ivy and begonias. You can see the box on the right is almost swallowed by the hydrangea bush/tree. You’ll be not shocked to know the window by the hydrangea is indeed FAKE. It’s just closed shutters. *sigh* Behind it is our master closet and oh, how I would love natural light in that big closet.

The Begonias ended their life last summer and we put in some periwinkle/vincas as it was all I could find at the moment.

The ivy, however is holding on, come rain, sleet, snow, sun, it’s like the Mailman used to be.

On our visit at Thanksgiving the vincas were barely breathing and I had a hankering for some pansies. I LOVE PANSIES; something we can never have in Florida because HOT SUN. The Coach and I purchased a plethora a pansies.

He had some extra large plant bowls he wanted to fill for the back deck area and I wanted to update the window boxes.

My pansies sat in their containers for several more days after he planted his; I found it to be too cold to actually go outside and plant them. {My Canadian friends: go ahead and laugh at me}

Coach said he would do it for me because I was being a sissy, but, then he became busy and didn’t. Days passed.

Finally, the Friday after Thanksgiving, I said: I’m doing it.

Lindsay offered to plant them for me.

Me: “No, it’s not a big deal, I just need the step ladder and I’ll be all set.

I started on my easy peasy project and she noticed how the ground under the window boxes was NOT level; there were ferns in there, clumpy mulch and it was on a slant to begin with.

Linds: (at least 4 more times) “Mama, let me do it, you might fall.

My exact words: “It’s ok, if I fall, it’s not that far.”

Five minutes later, a mysterious Being ripped that step stool from under me. I now believe that the mystery Being was my Common Sense.

Linds was as cool as a cucumber and I was fine. Really. My only complaint at that time was that my fingers hurt. It was cold, I had on thin garden gloves and damn it, my fingers hurt.

After I recovered, I realized the camera caught my escapade and I sent it in our family text.

10 minutes later the Coach sent it to my Aunt and a few friends. One of our friends is an ENT/Fireman and he called me concerned; he said: That looked really bad.

In hindsight, I was –this– close to hitting my head land on the concrete ledge, or I could have broken my arm or could you imagine if I’d broken my hand? Who would write my posts? You’d be devastated.

Shortly thereafter my ‘bird’ finger turned black & blue and I couldn’t move it or it’s two neighbors. It proceeded to get worse; I knew it wasn’t broken, just jammed like a mo’fo’. It took about 10 days for my finger to fully recover, so I’m back in bird business. *randomly shoots a bird at the wall*

The following two days after SOMETHING PUSHED me down, my body was sore all over, like I’d survived a car accident.

I really did learn my lesson though. I’m going to have the ferns ripped out as I know that is where ALL the snakes live anyway and have the mulch evened out. Also, I’ll use a real ladder next time which will be more stable. Or let someone else do it.

*But I think we can all agree this was my husbands fault.

*I made myself laugh!*

I hope I didn’t traumatize anyone other than my child who practically begged for this NOT to happen.

Next week I’ll share my But Wait, There’s More bird-finger story. I’m receiving signs from the universe.

What’s happening this weekend? Are we being frantic shoppers or are you in denial about Christmas as I am?

Bee careful with yourself and I promise I will too.