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? 

 

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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

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