Susan doesn’t live here anymore. Or ever.

 

This isn’t the first time I’ve complained about this and it certainly won’t be the last time either. So many people refuse to recognize, understand, or HEAR that my name is Suzanne.

Say it with me: SOO + ZAN

The following scenario happens at least eleventy thousand times a year:

Hostess/order taker/receptionist/phone call person:

Can I get your name? Suzanne.

Person: OK,  Susan. 

Occasionally I get a Susanna, a Sue, or a Suzie.

Those are refreshingly wrong names.

But…

That’s NOT my name. That’s NOT MY NAME!

That song is so good; it makes my toes wiggle and my thighs jiggle.

It became a running joke and my girls would call me Susan too.

{Side note; my Dad would lose his shit if we called him by his name, Phil. Why?}

I happen to love the name, Susan.

My MIL is Susan; although she goes by Sue.

Susan is a beautiful name.  but.it.aint.my.damn.name. 

It makes me wonder. Did Suzanne Sommers ever get called Susan?

Oh, snap.

I just remembered that I wasn’t on a hit TV sitcom in the ’70s, nor did I promote the thigh master.

*looks disappointingly at dancing jiggly thighs*


Many, many years ago an envelope arrived in our mailbox addressed to:

Current Owner

or

Susan Maria Martinez

My silly daughters: “Oh, you’ve been lying to us all these years, that is your real name!”

Damn. I’ve been found out after 40 years.

Now they had a new nickname for their beloved mother; Susan Maria Martinez.

That was at least 12 years ago.

And still today I’m referred to Susan Maria just when I expect Susan Maria to die.

My apologies, Susan Maria Martinez.

In this family, things just don’t die. Nicknames. Stories. Jokes. Something you said when you were five. 

Susan Maria Martinez will probably be somewhere on my epitaph.


The Coach had ordered some new ball caps for me for Mother’s day and they finally arrived this past weekend.

For when I’m Susan Maria Martinez: Mamacita!

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And of course, Mama Bear is another term of endearment.

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What would Susan do without her people? 

 

Image 5-6-20 at 7.13 AM

Gifts that delight and are my ears even connected to my brain?

I forgot to tell you and I’m sure you were wondering, but I had a nice mother’s day with my girls and my soon to be SIL.

Oh….to be in the same house and talk. And talk. And talk. It was heavenly.

I mean, it’s different than the 587 times that we’ve face-timed each other.

Can we all just think for a minute how lucky my future SIL is to have me? I mean, he IS so lucky because I am the MIL of dreams.

Perhaps I should rename my blog: Mrs. Modest the Mostest?

Oh, today is Nathan’s birthday! Happy birthday Nathan!

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He makes our Lolo so darn happy. She told me once that after meeting and falling in love with him “you know when you’re out and you see a good looking guy that catches your eye, well, now they all look like potatoes to me.”

Cheers to finding the main dish and not caring about potatoes!

Now, back to me. me. me.

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PREZZIES!

Gifts from my girlies on Mother’s day; a cute mug, Reeses, tulips, nail polish, a t-shirt representing Lolo’s school, and a succulent embroidered hand towel.

Lolo taught herself to embroider even before the pandemic.

I taught myself how to grow out of my own clothing.

____________

I went to go see my dermatologist this week and then I thought since I was out, I would treat myself to some chick-fil-a.

I’ve been deprived of chick-fil-a for at least 8 weeks.

DEPRIVED.

WAS it packed? YES. But they are such geniuses; they doubled their drive-thru line.

Doubled in width, not length if that confused you.

DOUBLED. It took a few more minutes than usual, but it was worth it.

Cute chick-fil-a girl: What would you like to order today? 

Me: A diet Arnold palmer and a cobb salad, please. 

Cutie: We don’t have any salads today.

Me: Ok, a chic fil a sandwich combo with a diet Arnold palmer, no fries; the superfood salad instead.

Cutie: We don’t have any salads today. 

Me. *dead face because we both have evidence that I’m an idiot.*

I’m constantly surprised at what comes out of my mouth.

Happy Friday. Anyone doing anything fun yet?

No?

I’ll be hanging at the homestead; piddling in my gardens, sorting photos, watching Dead to Me on Netflix, thinking of other ways that I’m wonderful, complaining about laundry, etc…

Living the flipping dream.

Be well, my friends.

XOXO

Image 5-6-20 at 7.13 AM

 

I hope I don’t regret not having a title for this mess.

It’s come to my attention that I have a lot of feelings.

Good ones.
Sad ones.
Really, really bad ones.

Just kidding about the bad ones, but I do love a sing-song rhyme.

Also, spell check always tells me that I don’t’ know how to spell rhyme.

People always say to live your life without regret.
Who are these people and why should we listen to them?

{not my tattoo nor my decolletage}

How does one live without regret? Like, NOT one regret? 
I’m not buying what they’re selling.

My regrets; I have a few.

I regret being an anal-retentive Mother when my girls were little. I know exactly *why I was like that 
and I don’t believe they are scarred, but still, I could have been a ‘lighter’ person.

I regret some of the times I didn’t answer the phone when my Mom called me.

I regret all the times I stressed over buying and wearing a bathing suit. From the time I was 15 until now; I stressed whether I was 95lbs or 140lbs.

I regret not wearing sunscreen on my decolletage during my teen years.

Upcoming evidence of feelings all over the place.

This song was on my mind the other day.
When my Mom was in hospice we played some music for her.
Me: Oh, she loves this song (she really did) so I started playing it. 

After a minute or so, my Aunt Trisha said: Yeah, she likes that song, but she really loves this one.

My Mom was heavily sedated and hadn’t communicated in hours, but she twitched when this song came on. I know she was trying to dance.

When I was a kid and she would dance/drive in the car at hearing a good song…Why did that mortify me? 
Dance/driving is the best.

I don’t regret dropping everything and spending copious amounts of time with my Mom in ATL when she was sick.

I don’t regret a single day of actually being a Mom or a Wife. (I capitalized on those as they are both positions that I take seriously.)

I don’t regret knowing the word decolletage; it’s an interesting word.

I might regret hitting publish on this post.

XO

Always remember the Lilies {or not}

This post was originally shared in 2011, but it’s fitting for the Easter season and it’s fitting to remember what a character my Grandma was. 

Does any flower scream Easter like the Lily?
Well, for me, there is none other.

As a child, going to church with Grandma I vividly remember the Easter lilies all lined up near the pulpit.

I remember reading through the church bulletin during the Easter service about WHO the lilies were for as they were all purchased in memoriam for someone.

I remember seeing that Grandma purchased one for my Grandpa after he died.
I would look towards the pulpit…wondering which one was ‘his’.

Years later, I would read that there was a lily placed in my Brother’s name.

And two Easters later, my Dad was added to the Easter Lilly collection.

Sadly, our family was filling up the lily section.

Cut to a few years ago when Grandma was still alive and in her mid 90’s; she could no longer get to church for any services.

So Easter morning, the coach and I with the girls loaded up our car and made the hour & forty-minute trek to Grandma’s house in Miami to celebrate Easter.

I had the biggest, whitest lily in the back of the car for Grandma.

When we arrived, she was happy to see us all. She was always happy to see us.

When I handed her the big ole’ white lily…she looked at it, she then looked at me.

I said: Isn’t it beautiful?

Grandma: Lilies always remind me of funerals. And they stink. I don’t care for them. 

Good lord; I should have known.
 great grandma[5]

That woman could not filter her thoughts whatsoever.
So now, whenever I see a lily…I remember HER.

And then my thoughts roam to stinky funerals; then back to her and her unfiltered funny as heck self.

Do you remember when she called me a PERVERT?  Gosh, what are the chances of anyone ever calling me that again?

Wishing everyone a nice Easter wherever you are and with whoever you’re with.

XOXO

Human behavior is for the dogs & this Gen X’er doesn’t care about titles or mean robots.

This has nothing to do with the current situation of our planet; I refuse to focus on the insanity.

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with Lolo who was still in the D.C area living and going to school. Does anyone remember a few weeks ago when everything was normal?
Anyhoo, we were on the phone and she was walking her husky Mattis. She lives in a very dense/city area and is frequently asked by people if they can pet her dog. {he’s so fluffy!}
I heard a person ask, she replied and then the person said something I hear over and over when someone visits our house and my dogs get excited:

“oh, he/she/it smells my dog on me, that’s why they’re excited.”


Ummmm….I’m pretty sure they’re excited because they ARE dogs.

Humans are so predictable and Mattis is so fluffy.

***

I posted my first Vlog on Saturday. It was off the cuff and not very exciting. I had a lot of people view it, but not as many commented, so I’ll never do that again.

*takes her bouncy ball, leaves the playground and heads home*

Wait, Linds & Lolo watched/read and said it was funny. But Linds also texted me early Sunday morning to let me know that someone left a really nasty & insulting comment; she tried to delete it before I saw it but wasn’t able to. She didn’t want my feelings to be hurt. How freaking sweet is that? 
I’m sure some of you have been the victim of this “Boomer hater” too.
No? He/she went on and on for about four paragraphs how Boomers are ruining the world, how everyone HATES boomers,
Wait, here’s an excerpt:

Do you boomers realize how universally hated you are? There is not one single demographic that does not hate you- white people, black people, asians, mexicans, indians, chinese, millennials, GenX, GenZ. Something tells me that you boomers are not going to have a very comfortable or easy retirement, especially once you end up in the retirement homes.”

Aren’t Chinese people Asian? 
This is the most politically incorrect spam I’ve received.
This week.

I read it and knew at once it was spam crap and I assured her that it didn’t hurt my feelings at all because:

A) I’ll most likely NOT end up in a retirement home because I feel like I might die in a vehicle with the Coach driving long before that.
OR
B) I’ll die being struck by lightning one clear summer day
(Florida!) while out collecting caterpillars.
AND
I’m not a boomer, I’m Gen X.

Not that I really give two squats about those titles.

Also, I should be doing a lot of squats for the sake of my legs.

Take that you slimy robot with no morals and too much time on your hands!! *As I’m squatting*

***

We had a very quiet weekend. I stayed around the house piddling around the garden/yard, doing some laundry, vacuuming out my silverware drawer (it’s a thing now) and watching copious amounts of TV.
The Coach went out on the boat fishing with a friend most of Sunday; the weather has been glorious and it’ll be over and back to 99* in a minute so it’s best to take advantage now.

FYI: As many times as I’ve asked him to bring me a pet dolphin from the Gulf, he refuses.
I want this blog to be evidence of the abuse/neglect I live with.

So, anything new and exciting in your life?
Did you go to a public place and lick the doorknobs? 
The handrails? 

Sharing is caring.
Well, unless its a virus that causes a pan-freakin-demic.

XOXO

Things I don’t want to see or hear or have people do.

Much like the sun damage from my youth, I need to get some things off my chest.

Prepare yourself for ComplainaPalooza 2020


Airport or restaurant check-ins on Facebook. 
Some peeps JUST post the check-in as their status. 
No one cares. Literally, NO ONE CARES.


I understand posting a pic of yourself with your people at a restaurant, or the airport because you’re excited about a trip, that is acceptable. (to me, but this is my blog, so my rules). 

DO not check-in. Not one person cares.




Honestly, I could go on all day about my FB complaints, but it’s futile. I just avoid FB when peeps annoy me.  For example, when someone shares 147 pictures from their afternoon at Chic Fil A having lunch with a friend. 

Has anyone heard of sharing just the highlights? 

Phrases that have run their course: 
*Current situation
*The struggle is real
*Said no one ever

One that has bothered me since the day I was born; I think I came out of my Mother’s lady 
kitchen being bothered about this one.
When you’re on the phone and you are giving someone your phone number or 
credit card number and as you are verbalizing said numbers (if you even pause for a 
second) they say OK, but they say OK WHILE YOU’RE TRYING TO MOVE 
ONTO THE REST OF THE DIGITS and then they don’t get the correct digits 
because they are saying OK while you’re trying to give them the digits. 


And exclamation points.
I mean, exclamation points!!! 
On texts, emails or notes written on homemade vellum paper delivered via 
messenger pigeons. 
We’re swimming in the sea of exclamation points. Are we really that excited? Are we angry? 
Are we cheerleaders? 
And it’s not just Millenials; I’ve corresponded with people in their 70’s. 
Why is everyone so darn excited when I thought most of the country was depressed.
Wait, maybe that’s just all the RX commercials I see. 

Ads on blogs. 
They slow the page load to the speed of smell. 
I understand you’re trying to make a few bucks; generally, a blog with ads is not one that
I’m going to enjoy so as soon as I see ads, I’m out. 

*Drops mic and heads to the laundry pile*


I’m sure you’re thinking now, wow, that Suz seems so nice and pleasant, and today she’s full 
of crap complaints.
Well, you’re right. 
But, once I purge my complaints, it’s all good in the hood. 

I’m Susie Sunshine once again, at your service. 

C’mon. YOU know you’ve got something to get off your chest; purging is good for the soul. 
XO 

I’ve named her Luna(tic)~The neighbor from hell~part 2

The follow-up to my future neighbor from hell.

Several months ago on a Tuesday morning, I was working in my office and minding my own beeswax. My lawn guys were here cutting the grass, so our electric gate was wide open. We have a keypad at the gate for guests, deliveries, etc. My house phone rang from the gate and I answered it wondering who would call from the gate when it was clearly wide open.

{For reference pic of gate area from my office with the gate closed and now with new palm trees.}

The conversation went something like this:
Suz: Hello?
Lunatic: Hi, I own the property next door and I need your lawn guys to NOT park on my property.
Suz: Oh, Hi. (she caught me off guard) Ummm….Ok. No problem. I didn’t realize someone bought the land. I’ll make sure they don’t park there anymore. No worries. 
Luna: Also, Please STOP throwing garbage on my land.
Suz: What? Ummmm…yes, I see that some people drop trash there from their car, but I assure you, it’s not me. I’ve often walked over there and picked up the thrash myself because it’s an eyesore. 
{While also remembering over the last 20 years, dropping the random fallen palm frond over the fence; surely it’s composted.}
Luna: I’M TRYING TO BE NICE HERE!
Now, I catch a glimpse of her via my window and she’s leaning down hollering into the keypad and bobbing her head back in forth with gusto.
Now, I’m thinking, wow. if you had to SAY you were being nice, then I’m gonna guess you aren’t really. *giggle giggle*
Suz: Well, I assure you I’m not throwing garbage on….*gets cut off by Luna*
Luna: I’ve already called the police twice and..*click*
Apparently, my keypad wasn’t created to have long conversations and the phone line was dropped.
So, I’m sure she thinks I hung up on her.
Whatevs….we weren’t making any progress.

She’s out there spouting craziness and bobbing her head in anger at me and I’m over here raising butterflies, hugging trees, raising funds for Veterans and championing people with disabilities, while also, minding my own damn business and keeping my corner of the world extremely tidy.
What in the actual hell? 

A bit later I went out and spoke with my lawn guys and let them know that we have a lunatic on our hands and they should just park in our grass. They let me know that they were also victims of her wrath that morning and also, that her swale (and mine, and everyone’s) is actually county property.
I agree it’s county property, but I don’t want her to come at me and park a jalopy or dump truck in my swale, so we’ll not park in her area again.
Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Fast forward a few weeks and again, it was a Tuesday morning; my lawn guys were here and the gate was wide open as I was working in my office. I see a sheriff’s car pull up the driveway.
Me: Hmmmm…he’s probably coming to tell me how nice my yard is and comment on my blue line flag supporting law enforcement. {I actually crack myself up}

I met him at the door and asked if there was something I could help him with.
He seemed a bit confused and said he was responding to some complaints about someone throwing garbage onto MY property, or that I was possibly throwing garbage onto my neighbor’s property? 

I don’t know if I could have possibly rolled my eyes any further into the back of my skull. 

I kindly explained to him what had happened a few weeks back with Luna and the gate/phone conversation; I explained that we aren’t’ littering on their property and that my lawn guys are now parking on my property as he could plainly see for himself.
He smiled politely and kind of giggled to himself. He reiterated to me that her swale is county property and that right now, there were a few vehicles parked there and it’s not illegal.

He said there were several complaints filed and not just towards us; the people across from Luna too.
Suz: Goodness, she’s gonna get all sorts of housewarming gifts when the day comes.
He laughed as he departed from my porch stoop and agreed that she’s not trying to make a good first impression.

A few weeks after this, the Coach was out at our Swale near her property talking with our tree people about the huge project that was about to commence. Our tree people had some trucks in her swale. Lord have mercy on anyone who she comes in contact with.

The Coach said he saw her coming and knew exactly who she was. She parked her car in front of the work trucks and was making her way towards him with a bad attitude and anger written all over her demeanor.
He shut her down immediately when she was within speaking distance with: “we’re working on a huge landscape project and YES, trucks will be occasionally parking on the county-owned portion of your land; no debris will be dumped on your land and it will look just like it does now when our project is done”. 
BAM!
She nodded, turned and walked away without saying anything.

We’ve not seen or heard from her since. I’m sure she drives by looking for trouble, but she won’t get any from me. I’ve actually told this story to my neighbors to the north, my bestie who lives about 8 houses down and my beloved Fed Ex guy (he’s awesome) and everyone is shocked at her behavior towards us.

Did anyone else see the movie or read the book The Help?
Remember the chocolate pie Miss Minnie made for the evil Miss Hilly?…
the sh*t pie?

I’m conjuring up images of a housewarming gift.

HAHA.
It’s funny. But you know I wouldn’t dare!!