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. 

See you later {tonight} alligator

At least once a week for as long as I can remember I dream about alligators.
Sometimes snakes too, but mostly alligators.

The other night they were able to climb up a two-story building; the second floor was all windows that slid open. I was busy telling everyone to NOT open the sliding windows or else the alligators WILL come right inside.
It was all very stressful because of course, no one wanted to listen to me.
Why is that? I’m a helper. A voice of insanity reason.

Perhaps the news brings on some of my dream antics-I wish we could make some of this up.  An alligator broke through a kitchen window, entered the house and made a mess. Including breaking wine bottles. If a gator tried to destroy my wine, I’d have a handbag, belt, and new shoes.

Or could it be from the day there was a baby alligator on the softball field during a game? 

Maybe it’s from the time my Dad took us to Gatorland Zoo? God forbid he took us to a normal theme park…hello Disney is just down the road Dad.

Suz, step-sister Lisa, brother Mark

Perhaps I should stop fighting with the gator ‘in my brain’ thing and just adopt one. This loon has a pet gator who she dresses up and he rides an ATV. 

Photo from ABC news. 

Please dear lawd…why do all the lunatics live in Florida? Does the heat make us them insane? 

Last night as I was cooking dinner I looked up and saw another gator just casually wandered into a garage in Fort Myers. 

If you believe the hippie voodoo stuff, my constant dreams about alligators can mean I have something to fear in my life. A foretelling of doom and gloom. 
I’m calling BS on that.
Plus, I’ve been having alligator dreams my whole life.
I think it’s just a Florida thing; we’re all nuts.

Anything scary invading your sleeping hours? 

I’m all about that Dog, that Dog.

I’ve been MIA from the blogosphere….if anyone even noticed. 
An update of sorts. 
We’re up to our eyeballs in dog care. Ozzie is still hanging in there….but he’s become extremely needy. As in, we are up at all hours of the night with the eating and the bathrooming. He’s on several medications that both make him hungry and thirsty…which means more bathrooming. 
I can’t remember if I wrote that he has both an enlarged heart and two large tumors/masses in his brain; his time is limited. 
 The Coach and I leave notes on who has done what at what time. 
We’ve added green beans and broccoli to his food and snacks; very filling without too many calories. Turns out both dogs love their greens…as do the cats! Who knew?
We are both very thankful that I’m not committed outside the house most days…that would not work for Ozzie’s situation. Right now, I’m not able to leave the house for more than 2 hours at a time.
Needless to say, getting up at all hours of the night does not make for pleasant Suz. 
 I’m certainly not looking for sympathy here, nor do I want to make anyone sad….this is what you do when you’ve made a commitment to an animal. 
I am So thankful that we have the resources to take good care of him and I’m also thankful it’s not my child who is sick; that would be much worse. Also, if I made my child pee and poop in the yard, well then my neighbors would most likely complain. 
 The Coach and I spent a (much needed) long weekend in Vegas and the girls had to be on dog duty. 
Trying to make sure someone was here at all times was hard with both of their work/school schedules. 
The Coach made a spreadsheet to cover all bases; one day I had my house/pet sitter come by for four hours when the girls were not available.
It takes a village!
I hope all of you are doing well and are getting lots of uninterrupted sleep!!!

I had a dream.

Do you remember your dreams?
Mine have always been bizarre; if you can believe that.
A few years ago {2007} I decided to start writing down my dreams in the morning before I forgot them.
I was pretty consistent on keeping this journal. Well if you call journaling them for ‘several days a week for almost one entire month’ consistent.
Yesterday, I pulled that baby out and added a dream from Saturday night.
Then I went back and re-read some of my old dreams. Then I laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more.
I shared them with the family.

The Coach said to the girls: “When you have children one day, don’t share that journal with your kids…they will think your Mother is insane.”
The Coach also mentioned something about using this journal for court documentation one day….whatever.
I did find that a lot of my dreams were about messiness; people being messy and me not being able to control their messes. Or clutter. Or me misplacing items, like clothes and cars. Or me being late. And not ready. I hate to be late and not ready. And of course, the reptiles; snakes, giant lizards, dolphins who turn into sharks etc. And every few days I have the ‘hairy legs’ dream; where the hair on my legs is so long….it’s embarrassing.
And of course, there is the ‘locker dream’.
YOU have that one too right? You are at school and you can’t remember your locker combo? And then you realize you aren’t wearing pants.
It’s hard to be me.
Please share. Must I wallow alone here in my weird dream world?

I feel crusty, oh so crusty.

I keep a pretty tight ship around these parts. A place for everything, everything in it’s place. Crapola is not allowed to collect in any part of the house. It helps me to sleep and stay somewhat sane knowing things are {mostly} in order.

Who said control freak? I heard that….

But you know, sometimes, something will slip by me. Something can sit in one place for so long, that it becomes part of the norm.

And in our pantry, this became the norm.

This pre made crusty crust sat in the pantry.

It became the home for the extra soy sauce packets and fortune cookies.
It housed those packets and fortune cookies for some time.
Recently, I noticed the soy sauce packets and the fortune cookies were becoming too bountiful. Too much.
I could not take it any longer. {I don’t even like take-out chinese food!}

So, I did what any somewhat sane neurotic person would do.
I threw the soy sauce and the fortune cookies across the kitchen towards the garbage can.

{Sadly, I could neither recycle or compost them.}

Whew, I felt better. The world was back in order.

Then I thought: “I don’t even like graham cracker crusts. Who even bought this?” 

I considered keeping it, just in case.
Then, I checked the use by date, just in case.
I gasped loudly.

Yes, that says Better if used before October 10, 2008!

Apparently, my neurosis is slipping…cause this baby sat for more years than I like to admit.
As it turns out, this was near the time that I started blogging too.

A coincidence?

Me thinks NO.

Chickens, eggs, and moving to Green Acres.

I have been thinking about chickens lately.

My friend Techno Doll raises chickens.

She brought to my attention of how horrid it is for caged chickens on chicken/egg farms. This has been on my mind.

I will only purchase cage free eggs now.


But, then somehow this has gotten deeper into my psyche.

Lo and I saw someone selling roosters/hens on the side of the road the other day.

I said: Wouldn’t it be cool to have our own chickens to make our own eggs?

She agreed with me and immediately named our rooster: Hank.

So, if I have room for a veggie garden, why not a hen house?

Green acres is the place for me.



But, it was on my mind.

I dreamt that we were putting in a hen house. I was going to get 3 hens and one rooster. Hank.

But you know, it would not end there. It never ends there, soon I would have a goat (or 6) and perhaps a cow.

I would name the cow: Daisy.

Then, someone things got confuzzled.

Next thing I knew, my Aunt needed an egg. MY EGGS.

She wanted to have another baby.


(and apparently she wanted to be in medical books too)

So, I of course gave her some of my Eggs.

So weird.

I will not eat eggs for a while.


Oh, and don’t buy regular eggs. Please. If we all halt buying from caged farms, they would eventually have to change their ways.

Only buy Cage free, or even try to buy from a local farmer who has cage free hens. (none in my area, I already searched, but you may have luck!)

Chickens have feelings too. If you want to see how bad they have it, you can google chicken egg farms and see.

Or look at the video that Techno Doll has on her site. (click link above)

It is not pretty.

Am I being a downer today? I hope not.

All photos borrowed from Flickr creative commons.

A Visit To The Confessional

I am dipping my toes into dark waters, getting my feet wet in the pool of my memories. And just so you know, it ain’t always pretty. Please don’t worry about me though, I have on my floaties.

(yes, I know ain’t ain’t a word, but I like it anyway)

Click HERE to read my thoughts at The Women’s Colony, in the ‘Confessional.’

By the way, if you have never visited The Women’s Colony, you are missing out on some good stuff. The ‘cabana’ area in particular cracks me up.