We’re Talking Lizards Again; This Time That Divine One From My Past. AKA: My Jesus Lizard

*I originally shared this post many moons ago, (2010) but I felt that since I just shared my dilemma regarding Anatoli Anole this week, you should know that I don’t loathe all lizards* (thanks Nance for naming the Azzhole)


As a kid, you could find me playing outside all the time; if I weren’t creating shenanigans with the neighborhood kids, I was creating my own adventures. 

I spent hours and hours in our yard unattended or roaming the neighborhood, also unattended.

I loved catching bugs and stray cats, bunnies critters, but catching lizards, well catching lizards was my jam. 

I was proficient at capturing without harming and I loved them so much. I was the self proclaimed lizard whisperer.  

When I was about seven I found this beautiful bright green lizard. He was a gorgeous specimen! 

I believe it was love at first sight for both of us.

He was so docile as he crawled up and down my arms and he loved sitting on my shoulder, like a Parrot lizard. 

He was my constant companion for A Full Day. 

*CUE THE SUZ AND LIZARD FUN MONTAGE*

I had visions of our life together: playing games, reading books, traveling the world.

I found a jar and made him a home and we had our first sleepover; it was epic. 

The next day, I thought it would be a great idea to take him to school with me because surely, he would get lonely at home all alone. (Was I wearing homemade pantyhose? Probably.)

Being the girly tomboy that I was, I put him in my purse and headed for school.

I only shared my new lizard with a few friends that day as I did not want to risk getting into trouble. I’d already hit my quota for classroom spankings. 

Sadly, later that evening, I realized that my lizard had perished. I was beyond crushed because all our hopes and dreams for the future were just as dead as he was.

Maybe it was the the long commute on the school bus that did him in? Maybe living in my purse wasn’t the right environment? Perhaps a diet of grass wasn’t enough? 

Devastated, I buried him in the yard and performed The Eulogy that he clearly deserved.

A few days later I went to pay homage to my now deceased friend and WHAT IIN THE ACTUAL HELL? 

He.Was.Gone.

The burial site was wide open and my lizard had risen from the dead! 

Like Jesus.  

It was a miracle of epic proportions! He lives! He lives! He lives! 

I was elated and for days I looked all over for him, but sadly we were never reunited.

I never forgot our time together though, he was my favorite lizard and could never be replaced. 

 In hindsight, maybe he was not so much ‘Jesus like’ as much as my cats were excellent excavators.

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XOXO

Your friend Suz, the critter hoarding hawt mess in the making.

Random thoughts on shanking, sewing, clothes, and how I used to go by the name Sue

*Suz coughs*
Random person: Do you have the coronavirus?

If one more person asks me if I have the virus, I’m gonna shank them. 


I was thinking the other day how people don’t make their own clothes anymore. When I was a kid, most if not all my clothes were homemade. My Grandma (the cigarette feeding one) and my Mom made them for me. Was it to save money? Was it because the stores didn’t sell cute clothes? 
Or was it just the norm in the ’60s and ’70s?

I recall my G’ma had her sewing machine set up 24/7 in the Florida room of her Miami Springs house. Sue, you need a new dress? Go pick out some fabric and I’ll whip up a dress for you.
Wam, bam, thank you Gram.
*I just made myself LOL*

Dress made by my Mom, Bev. I believe I was trying to flip off the photographer. 

I remember being around 12 and my Mom’s BFF Connie whipped up some pants for her daughters Jodie, Mary and I in her makeshift sewing room. Sue, what color do you want? I chose purple because I felt like royalty.
*There I go again, LOL-ing at myself* 
I remember the pants were considered ‘elephant pants’ at the time. Do you remember those? Wide-legged?
I felt really cool going to school the next day with my new pants.
Then I felt really hot at recess because they were not breathable and I live in Florida. Also, I wasn’t able to stand near my mom and her ciggies because polyester is very flammable.
But hey, I had new pants; I was hot.
*I did it again.*

I have no direction today…just feeling kind of nostalgic for some reason.
Menopause? PMS? Old age? I’ll pay a million dollars cents to anyone who can figure out what’s happening in my head.

***If I were a country singer, my name would be MiRANDOM Lambert***

The Coach’s Mom made most of his clothes too as a kid. She was a professional seamstress, so that makes a lot of sense.
I can sew on a button, mend a blown-out crotch, and other minor things, but I can’t create a piece of clothing.
You do realize the blown-out crotch isn’t a medical thing, but a clothing thing. Right?

Lolo loves to sew and learned a lot while sitting on her Grandma’s (Coach’s mom) lap. She has several sewing machines and just taught herself how to do hand embroidery.

OMG. I just remembered that my Mom used to embroider too. No wonder she didn’t have time to make us a proper meal, she was crafting! Thank goodness we didn’t have the internet when I was a kid or I might still be wearing diapers.

If Bev were alive, she would LOL at that one.

I know I have a bajillion pics of me somewhere wearing some of the cute outfits that were homemade, but can I find them when I need them? hells no.

But I did find my very first topless pic; apparently, we were out of fabric this week.

So, when I was in elementary school, it was too daunting for me to write out Suzanne.
I recall my Dad calling me Sue all the time. It must have been daunting for him too.
So, I went by Sue.
Now, I go by Cookie.
Just kidding.
Unless you think Cookie will stick because I really like it.

XOXO

When it came to awkwardness, I was the perfect role model.

I’m still a sick puppy, but I’m almost seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The fever is gone but I feel like the cough will be with me until 2021. 
This is an old post that really sums up Suz from the age of 6 to 17; nothing went as planned and I couldn’t ever just be the cool chick. 

It was going to be a big day for me; my graduation from 7th grade. 
Next year, I would be in high school with the big fish.
I was done with my awkwardness, I was going to emerge a beautiful butterfly.
I decided to take my time and beautify myself before the graduation ceremony. I ran the bath and I even added some of the Jean Nate’ bath oil that my Grandma loved so much.
I soaked. I soaked. And then I soaked some more.
Finally, it was time to dress and dry my hair. No time to lose now Suz.
I dressed in my new terry cloth striped dress; it was so pretty AND fashionable. 
A few spritzes of my Loves Baby Soft around my neck and wrist; I am really something. 
I got out the blow dryer and my round brush; watch out Farah Fawcett. 
I dried.
I dried.
WTF?
I dried.
I dried some more. 
My hair was not really drying.
So then I got out my fancy-dancy curling iron.
My hair still seemed kind of wet; oily. 
What the heck kind of negative hair magic was happening?
It was go-time now; greased lightning we’ve got to head out the door.  

suz 7th grade

Apparently you should not soak your hair in Jean Nate’ bath oil. 
Something I wish my Mom had told me. 
Greasy gross mess.
And for me, this really was just the beginning of my awkward years…things would get much worse before they got better.

You know how on Facebook you can leave a comment with a picture? I wish Blogger would let ya’ll do that here so we can compare awkward teenage pictures. 
Happy Valentine’s day. XO