Some Might Call It An Addiction; I Just Refer To It As Something I Do Consistently. Like, On A Daily Basis.

You’d be surprised to know that I have a vice aside from wine.

Shocking, I know.

Gummy bears.

Sure, it’s kind of weird that a woman of my aptitude and aristocracy would enjoy smooshie candies in the shape of bears, but I’m here to tell you they are my favorite sweet snack.

Honestly, I’m not even tied to one brand. But they have to be either Hairbo or Albanese.

And never gummy worms; those are gross. I know they’re essentially the same thing but bears taste better than worms because cuteness matters.

You might not believe me, but when the serving size says NINE bears. I will only eat NINE bears.

I might eat NINE bears twice a day, but never at the same sitting.

After nine, I get up, move somewhere else, sit and have nine more.

It’s not rocket science people, you too can sit in different places when you eat.

Kidding. I really don’t eat them everyday.

Ok, maybe I have them 6 out of 7 days. That doesn’t mean I’m addicted.

I keep them in my car. My office drawer. A drawer in the kitchen. And maybe some in my purse.


Hold on…

I was getting tired with all this typing and needed some Gummy Bear Power.

Did I tell you they have ZERO cholesterol? I’m basically eating fruit so think of all the vitamin C I’m ingesting. No wonder I hardly ever get sick.

On one of our drives to Georgia last year I was nibbling on some bears when the Coach asked me:

What are they even made of?

Me: JOY and HAPPINESS. But really, I have no idea. Probably gelatin and the breath of angels.

For Christmas this year Lindsay’s best friend gifted me with five pounds of gummy bears.


Can you even imagine my delight?


When was the last time you enjoyed a sweet delicious made from gelatin angels breath gummy bear?

Do you have a not-so-bad addiction that you’re not ashamed to share?


The Great Grape Debate

I’m usually talking about silly things here, but today, today it is serious.

Ok. It ain’t serious, but it’s an important topic. In my house.

I love grapes. Red, seedless, crisp, cold grapes. I shared a while ago how I almost choked on a grape; this isn’t a super rare occurrence because I eat grapes. A lot. And you thought I only drank them.

There is NOT one time that I purchase grapes, bring them home, wash them and then put them in a bowl that I don’t remember this incident:

Scene: Our duplex kitchen, circa 1987-88? I’d returned from the grocery store and was cleaning grapes, then placing them in a bowl; the Coach (my boyfriend) said to me:

You know, my Mom takes ALL the grapes off the stems and puts them in a bowl.

I looked down at MY bowl of grapes that were still ON the stem, said nothing and put them in the refrigerator.

That was how many years ago? 33? 34?

I will not de-stem all of my grapes. I refuse.

A few weeks ago the Coach pulled out the bowl of grapes and started to de-stem them.

Me thinking: Has he lost his ever loving mind?

Woooo, Buddy. Watcha doing there? I like them in clumps, with stems. That way I can grab a clump, walk away and snack. There’s a method to my madness.

I mean, really. He has a lot of nerve; I COULD have had my attorney on the line before the bowl was back in the fridge.

So tell me. Do you de-stem your grapes?

Do you think I don’t want to do it because my MIL does? I adore my MIL, so that isn’t the reason, but I will admit the first time he said it, it stung.

I really do like them in little clumps for snacking ease and I don’t want to willy nilly grab at 89 grapes to get a handful.

Your friend Suz who can’t forget silly conversations about grapes on stems for her entire life, but forgot what we had for dinner last night.

FOUR? Scary Weather, Scary Neck, Silly Conversations

I have professed before that I do not watch the news. It just isn’t good for my well being. That being said, I turned on the TV the other night and before I could get to my beloved and safe HGTV, the world news was there trying (and succeeding) to get to my psyche in the first 4 seconds. I heard blah, blah, yada, yada, A FOURTH dose might be needed.


Have ya’ll seen anyone running around with their pants on fire because the elusive dangled carrot on a string keeps being pulled from us.

Like you, I’m tired of it all.


I saw a trio of happy dolphins this weekend, dolphins never lie so they are my favorite.

The Coach and I are still feeling the affects of our exposure. I thought after five days or so that I would be golden. Reality: But we are getting there. I think.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday we had the most glorious weather. I got in some nice walks and even visited the beach for a few minutes. Vitamin D. Vitamin Sea.

Sunday Morning: Not.So.Golden.

Just like I avoid the world news, apparently I also avoid the local news too because yesterday we woke up to a crazy storm with tornado warnings. Me thinking: What is my phone is going off with a scary siren and the words: SEEK SHELTER!

Me to the Coach: Um, maybe we should close the sliders and windows?

We were fine, but there were several tornado sightings and several did touch down. Sadly, it appears they targeted a trailer park. Can the Trailer Park People get a break?


The Videographer from Lolo and Nathans wedding sent over a Sneak Peak of wedding snippets. I watched it last night and all the good feeling vibes returned. But you know me. I was aghast when I saw a snippet of myself as I was giving my toast and you’ll be happy that I didn’t even notice my hair.

It was my neck!

GOOD LORD, can you NOT take a video or picture from BELOW me? (we were on a stairway landing)

The Coach and I sat at the counter last night having some tomato soup and makeshift grilled cheese (on English muffins) as I didn’t feel like cooking and we had this conversation about the video:

Me: Holy mackerel, did you see my neck? What the hell man? I contemplated it for a moment. I guess it could be worse, I could have NO neck with my head just sitting on my shoulders. Then every time I needed to turn my head, I’d have to turn my entire body like this. And I showed him for reference in case he didn’t get it.

Him: OR, OR you could have NO eyes to even see the state of your neck.

I thought about his idea for a moment.

Me: Nah, I like my idea better; my choice is no neck at all. I’m keeping my eye balls.

Aging isn’t for sissies. But it sure does beat the alternative and I’m not talking about no eyes or neck.

How about you? Nice weekend? Nice weather? Nice neck?