Suzanna Danna

Guter tag.

Warning, this is a long one. Bring a sack lunch y’all.

Okay, so. Yeah, I’ve been gone for a while. And yeah, I was supposed to be a traveling fool for the month of June but I never expected all of the activity that actually went down. Some of you know about the drama. Some of you don’t. And to keep myself in order I think I will do this in itinerary form, with dramatic prose thrown in for me.

Long story short. I traveled a bunch and Mister lost his mother.

Long story long.

The way it was supposed to go: Destin, FL vacation from 6/6 until 6/14… get home for a day to do laundry, 6/16 in the office, 6/17-6/20 in Galveston for a conference, home the 20th and that weekend, in the office the 23rd, leave the 24th thru the 28th for an annual meeting in New Mexico, in the office yesterday the 30th.

The way it actually went.

5/29 Mister’s mom had two very bad strokes that morning, she was rushed to the hospital and Mister, his sisters and his father were sitting on pins and needles waiting for the neurosurgeon to tell them something, anything.

5/30 No change with his mother, if anything, she worsened. Mister is the only one in his clan that is not located in the mid-Florida area. His sisters asked the neurosurgeon what they should tell Mister… as he is the only one that is about 20 to 24 hours away when driving. The Dr. told the sisters that Mister should get there and that he didn’t have the 20-some-odd hours it would take to drive. I threw Mister in my car and booked him on the last flight out of Dallas and told him to just go. He got to the terminal with about 5 minutes to spare and he got to the hospital around midnight or 1 am that night. He only took his laptop bag and his CPAP machine.

PS… American wanted $1901 per person to fly. Note to AA… Suck it. I put him on Southwest. Note to Southwest, love you. Mean it.

We had planned on boarding Max (at Cat Connection) and Zeke (at Doggie Wonderland) for the week we were going to be gone to Destin, this was a week earlier than planned. The people at both places were so awesome. Max’s place closed at 6 and Zeke’s closed at 6:30pm. Guess who didn’t get the animals rounded up until 7 or so? Me. And I was all crying on the phone with the people who were keeping our furry little four-legged babies. They were so cool.

After I got the animals situated, I packed up the rest of the shit for two weeks in FL. I took stuff for a funeral and stuff for the beach. It was the most bipolar packing I have ever done. I had no idea what to expect, but I got it all crammed into the Tahoe and headed out of Dallas at about 10:15 pm.

My parents and my sister were begging me to stop at my folks house (they live in East Texas about an hour or two from Shreveport, LA) but I was all butt clenched about getting to Mister and I was so fucking worried that he didn’t even have a toothbrush with him. Count on me to worry about the important shit.

I got to the I-20 turn off at my folk’s place around midnight and called them to say I’d be there in an hour. Daddy promised to wake me an hour before dawn so I could get back on the road. I took them up on it.

Note to kind reader, yes… this was a cluster fuck. And yes the bad shit was happening to my husband but I can only tell you my side of the whole thing. Maybe he’ll give you his side someday. Until then, please bear with my “it’s all about me” writing.

5/31 Mister was at the hospital from the time they opened their doors until the time they closed the NSICU. Mister, his dad and his three sisters all stood vigil and kept his mom company in the ICU ward. Mister went and got her a battery operated radio, cd, tape player thingy because they couldn’t have anything with an electrical cord in the ICU area. They brought her favorite albums and sat around and sang to her and read her favorite passages from the Bible.

My daddy woke me up at 5 am and I showered, ate a bite of breakfast and got on the road towards Florida. I drove from 6:15 am until 10:30 pm. I stopped in Tallahassee at a Quality Inn and to my horror (I am completely spoiled when it comes to hotels) I found a pubic hair on the edge of the tub and a toenail clipping just outside the restroom door on the carpet. I was so tired that I just kept my shoes on the whole time I was in the room and washed my skin so hard in the shower that I could have scrubbed in on a surgery should I have needed to. I even showered in my contacts as I forgot that I had them in. But the gods of George A. Romero were smiling upon me as I lay down to go to sleep… my comfort movie “Dawn of the Dead” came on TBS as I was scrolling through the channels with my hands wrapped in tissues as not to touch the nasty ass remote control. I fell into a fitful rest around 1:30 am or so.

6/1 I slept until 7 am and was on the road by 8 am. Mister had made me promise to never let the gas tank in the Tahoe get any less than half full. This is a good safety measures thing that I will continue to heed for the rest of the road trips in my life. I stopped at McDonald’s and …

Here is where I tell you that Mister has lost over 50 pounds on Jenny Craig and I have lost almost 40… well, 36 or 37. And that during this past month we have put on a good eleventy trillion pounds of unwanted fat and have been very gassy. After weaning ourselves off of bad food the fast food shit didn’t sit well with our tummies.

I stopped at McDonald’s and got a chicken biscuit and an extra large iced coffee. Y’all know I don’t normally drink caffeine either as I vibrate with nervous energy like an unbalanced washing machine if I get too much of the stuff. During this trip I probably did so much caffeine that I was basically like a little meth addict. Not sleeping, all jittery, hives, inappropriate barks of laughter. It was awesome.

I called Mister from the road and decided to go down the east coast of Florida and got to the hospital before 2 pm. When I went into the hospital Mister’s dad was standing there with some people from their church and Mister’s oldest sister. They welcomed me warmly and then I got to see him. Mister came around the corner and gave me the biggest hug.

Now, to be honest I had no idea what to expect. With my maternal grandmother, she was just riddled with cancer but she was ready to go. She wanted to die, she wanted to go to heaven her body was just too strong. It was really beautiful to lay there on the floor next to her bed in the hospice and watch her doing the helpless gestures and other signs of death because I knew she was ready to go. When we had her viewing with just the family… my sister, my mother and I gathered around her and… well, we noticed that her wig was crooked. So, I gently pulled it back into place. Her little head wobbled… and we got the giggles.

This may sound absolutely morbid to some of you, but she was at rest. She was at peace, she was not there. It was just a body. We got to say our goodbyes and lay in bed with her and talk to her during her lucid periods. It was beautiful.

What I found when I got to the hospital on June 1st was…. Not.

Mister signed me in to the NSICU ward and I got a little name tag and he took me upstairs. When we went into the IC unit it was clear to me that his mother wasn’t there either. Yes, she was breathing but she was not there.

She had sent a copy of her living will to Mister and his two older sisters (and even gave a copy of it to Mister’s dad) last March before she was admitted into the hospital to have her knee operated on. She also had a DNR (do not resuscitate) on file for the knee surgery. The Living Will stated that should she be in a vegetative state, have a terminal illness or … one other thing that she already was… that after trying everything to save her for 72 hours, she would be taken off of a ventilator, feeding tube, oxygen, basically everything but an IV for hydration and comfort measures (morphine). Please keep this in mind.

6/2 Back to the hospital. We sang to her, talked to her, watched her reflexes and the color of her urine darken. Okay, the last one was just Mister and me. We called this guy to give us the low down (with no sugar coating or a side of bullshit) and got the skinny on something called the Glasgow Coma scale… the neurologist listed Mister’s mother as a 3.

It was Monday and she hadn’t responded or opened her eyes since her strokes on Thursday morning.

We would stay at the hospital all day, sitting in the waiting room or in his mother’s room all day. Our only respite was to smile politely at the teeny waiting room Nazi in her pink shirt and white nurse’s shoes. As a volunteer who was supposed to support and help those who were in need of comfort or direction she sucked, as a drill instructor she would have been fabulous.

6/3-6/5 More of the same. Only by the 5th I was physically biting my cheeks to keep from reminding the family of the 72 hour living will thing. Mister was doing the same. Only not just that but he was also struggling with the fact that his sisters’ all act like they are closer than bread and butter but when we cooked dinner for the clan at his oldest sister’s home one evening we found out it was his closest sister’s first time to be in her older sister’s home. Hmmm, close. And. Oh, and.

Y’all. Have I ever told you about my engagement ring? Well, I haven’t even told you about how Mister and I met… so probably not. Here’s the brief version. We wanted to get married. Mister wanted to buy me a diamond. I was all, “Eh… we’ve each been married previously, why don’t we just do bands?” He was insistent. Wanted to get me a diamond but neither one of us could afford it. In 1995 he was t-boned on I-95 outside Orlando by a courier truck. He has basically had a headache for 13 years. He has endured acupuncture, pain medication, chiropractic care, you name it… he has had it. Around January of 2003 he got a letter in the mail from the courier company that the truck that hit him had worked for. From their attorney. It basically said, “Mister, by signing this letter you admit guilt in the matter of us t-boning you on the highway back in 1995. And by signing this letter you waive any right to sue us at a later date.” Mister, being a smart man, researched the verbiage on how to respond with a legal-eezed-up “Fuck you, and the truck that t-boned me.” A few months after he sent the pretty worded F-You, he got a check in the mail and with part of it, he got me a ring. So basically I wear his pain on my hand. If that isn’t a good man for you, I don’t know what is.

The reason I just word vomited on the page about that story is because one day in the hospital cafeteria his oldest sister basically called me high falutin’ for having a diamond (that you can actually see with the naked eye) on my hand. Me. High falutin’.

Let that sink in.

I didn’t respond to her baiting (y’all would have been so proud), nor did I hide my hand and my ring under the table. I didn’t tell her the story of the ring either as that is none of her business. Mister was floored. He asked me, “Do you think she knows what she just said to you?” I answered, “Of course. And I hope it made her feel terrific to try and put me down.” We gave each other a thumbs up and went back upstairs to his mother’s bedside.

This is where I get a little icky. For those of you who are squeamish, please pick back up around 6/8 or so.

I have this incredible sense of smell. It is a curse and also a blessing. Aw, hell, it is just a curse. I can smell it when my traveling companion/stranger on an airplane buries a fart into the cushion of the seat. Some perfumes that women wear actually hurt my face. I can tell when smokers enter a restaurant. I can smell pneumonia or bronchitis at about 10 paces. And I can smell death. When we would leave the hospital each evening around 8:30 or so as soon as we got somewhere with a washer and dryer I would strip both of us and wash our clothes, then go scrub myself into a puffy pink mess in the shower.

Her breath was… wrong. I could smell the infection inside her and her breath was sticking to me. I could smell the death in my hair, on my clothes. It was awful… And for those of you still reading, I am sorry. I just wanted to be totally honest here. I asked Mister if he minded if I wrote out the story of the last month and he said, “No, just don’t use my parent’s names, the town they live in or my sister’s names.” So, here I am. Giving you all this verbal diarrhea.

You’re welcome.

6/6 The family finally asked for a meeting with the neurologist and the cardiologist. The meeting was scheduled for 3 pm on the 6th. Mister went in with his research and clearly typed questions to ask so that he could fulfill the task that his mother set out for him in her living will. In her Living Will she asked that the oldest sister to be the medical and financial guardian, that the second one take care of the funeral arrangements, that Mister take care of organ donation and that they all make decisions so that the youngest and Mister’s dad wouldn’t have to. Since the oldest was in charge we couldn’t (even though the rest of us except the oldest and Mister’s dad) say, “For the love of all that is Holy. Let her go. It’s been a week and a day… that is past her 72 hour wish.” Mister actually said, “It’s like someone says that they want a certain song and roses for their funeral and another person comes along and says, ‘Well, the song is okay… but we’re going to get you carnations instead.’”

The meeting was convoluted and like chasing a deer through the forest. Mister would ask, “Is she breathing on her own enough to remove the ventilator?” The neurologist would say, “Well, yes, she is breathing on her own, with the assistance of the ventilator.” So Mister would counter with, “Okay, then if she needs assistance then she is not breathing on her own.” The neurologist, “Technically, she is….” Mister, “Alright, then what is the oxygen saturation level with her ‘technically’ breathing on her own?” It was ugly. The doctors finally used the word coma around Mister’s dad and then they left the room to let us make a decision whether or not to obey her final wishes.

Mister’s dad was so sad y’all. He said, “Okay, so, she’s not coming back. When do you guys think we should start the 72 hour clock that she asked for in her living will?” One of Mister’s brothers-in-law spoke up, “Dad, the 72 hours passed a long time ago.” That was the beginning of the end.

The family cried and discussed what they wanted to do. They decided to let her go the next day at noon.

6/7 At noon the family gathered around her bed and read her favorite verses out of the Bible. They prayed, they talked to her and then they stepped out of the room while the nurses unhooked her. When we could all go back in the EKG monitor was still hooked up. Her heartbeat was amazingly irregular. And she coughed up that thingy that they put into coma victim’s mouths to keep their tongue down. The family fled and then one by one came back.

I was left alone in the room with Mister’s mom… a lot that week. I don’t know if it was because I was/am an outsider, or because I wasn’t as emotionally tied to it… but I really didn’t mind. It was fine (everything except the smell).

The hospital moved her down to a private room and we all sat around and watched her like a science fair project until Mister had enough. He stood, we hugged everyone and then went to pack and leave. He wanted to go to Destin to the family vacation that we had been looking forward to for the better part of the year.

We left that evening and got to Destin around 1 am.

6/8 We hung out on the beach and had shrimp and sundaes that evening. It was fun but strained. We went to the neighbors’ porch to smoke cigars and hang out.

6/9 Mister wanted to make his famous gumbo for our dinner for the family. The other family loves his gumbo so much that they offered to pay him to make a double batch. My mother and I chopped the trinity (onions, green peppers and celery) while Mister did the roux. The gumbo turned out fantastic and everyone was pleased. That evening we went to AJ’s bar and grill and I told the two younger brothers of our traveling neighbors that it was their job to get Mister drunk. He ended up getting all three of them drunk. The alcohol allowed Mister to show some emotion that evening so it was a late night for us.

6/10 My sister and I hired a professional photographer to take our pictures on the beach as normally we just have one of the traveling neighbors do it. She was lovely and took amazing pictures at sunset that evening. Mister wasn’t a bit green.

6/11 Deep sea fishing day. I’m not going to say much, but damn. My brother in law caught a 160 pound, six and a half foot long bull shark with 80 pound test line. I’m also not going to tell you that the captain of our boat shot the shark so that they could bring him on board. Or that fourteen of us ate our weight in grilled, blackened and fried shark and red snapper.

6/12-6/13 The days passed in a lull. I would hang out on the beach while Mister hung out in the condo watching movies or napping. I started to get restless. The afternoon of the 13th Mister said that he wanted to stop over in New Orleans on our way home. I said, “Well, you couldn’t relax last week, you haven’t relaxed here, do you think that you will be able to relax there?” He nodded to the affirmative and so I asked him to get online and find us a place to stay. We packed up and left that afternoon, getting into New Orleans (at the W…. Love you W… Love you so much!) at 9 pm or so. They took such good care of us. We walked over to a jazz café and had dinner and music then we walked down Bourbon Street and into the Cajun Cabin to hear the Can’t Hardly Play Boys play their last set. It was so comforting to see something familiar in New Orleans. On the drive in I almost cried because of all of the devastation still around.

6/14 We slept late and had a late breakfast. The W gave us a 4 o’clock check out (did I mention that I love the W?) and we packed up our stuff and hit Royal street to do a little look-n-see. The night before we had picked up a “What’s Happening” magazine and picked our places that we each wanted to see the next day. Mister picked an antique gun/rifle/coin store and I picked a gallery with beautiful art*. We made it back in time for a late lunch and to get a late start on our drive home. Mister had relaxed for about 12 hours since we found out about his mom and those 12 were in New Orleans. On the way out of town he got a bit anxious and asked me to pull to the median so he could drive out of the traffic. We made it home that night around 2 am.

*More on this later.

6/15 Laundry.

6/16 Mister and I both had to go into the office on Monday. They were jacking with my computer as we just got new laptops and wireless cards so I had to stay until 8:30 pm that evening to get my work done for the conference I was leaving for the next morning at 6 am.

6/17-18 Travel and set up for conference. First day of the conference on the 18th.

6/19 Fucked up day. Some guy had a diabetic seizure in one of my classrooms. There were all these men standing around the poor guy trying to give him juice or coke. I nearly lost my shit. They could have killed him. As soon as I heard about the “guy that may have Tourette’s in Ballroom C” I called security to alert them then dialed 911 as I was running to the room. I pulled the guy out with the help of another gentleman and it took both of us to hold him in a chair until the paramedics got there. When they got there we put him on the floor and it took three paramedics, a security guy and me to hold him to take his blood sugar. He was seizing so hard that he lost a shoe. His blood sugar for the first draw was 27. He took three big vials of that glucose (?) stuff and two shots of what I am guessing was insulin before he got to 70-something and started coming around.

I was sitting on the floor with one knee up and he was leaning against my knee and my chest as I held his shoulders. He was so embarrassed but I am so glad it happened at the conference instead of in his room alone. Poor guy.

That evening I was feeling all sorts of twitchy and it didn’t help that there was blood on the moon (blood on the moon, trouble’s comin). See? Look. I took this picture with my weak camera.

That little red spot? Is the freaking MOON**.

**M-O-O-N spells Tom Collins.

I kinda dropped my basket a little and cried like a big snotty hot mess out on the balcony for a while. I knew what was coming but I didn’t know when.

6/20 5:15 am I got a phone call from Mister’s dad. He told me that they had just lost mom fifteen minutes prior. I spoke with him for a while then called Mister who had just gotten off the phone with his oldest sister. I caught a shuttle to the airport and took an earlier flight home. I walked in the door, changed into shorts and we walked right back out again, boarded the animals and got on the road. We made it to Baton Rouge at 2 am.

What the hell is it with me and 2 am?

Word to the wise. I love me some Starwood Properties but the Sheraton in Baton Rouge just off of I-10 needs a major overhaul in the management department. The front desk was basically unmanned, there were no bellmen, the valet guy didn’t even offer to help with our bags (and everywhere we stopped the preventative measures in Mister demanded that we unpack EVERYTHING) and it is a casino, so everything should be running 24 hours. NO. Hate. Going to write a letter, and not a good one. There were what appeared to be food particles and hair in the bed clothes. GAH. And we were on the Club floor!

6/21 We slept in a bit and hit the road for a very long trip. We got into Live Oak or Lake View or something off of the 295 Loop just outside of Jacksonville and stopped at a Days Inn at? Yeah, around 2 am. Seriously, I wish I had my batteries for the camera juiced up because I think there was a murder in the room we stayed in. The La-Z-Boy recliner in the corner had a very suspicious stain from industrial strength cleaner and two scary holes that looked like .22 caliber.

6/22 We got into Mister’s old home town around 1:30 the next afternoon.

6/23 Mister ran an airport shuttle for relatives coming in for the memorial service and I hung out with his dad and watched eleventeen movies until 1:30 am when Mister returned.

6/24 I can’t rememeber.

6/25 Memorial service. And dinner with 21 people at Olive Garden. That evening I got to spend some time with my Aunt Sue (she’ll be 94 on 7/7/08) and Mister hung out with his dad.

6/26 We went to lunch with Aunt Sue, her son and daughter in law and then over to her son’s house. He wanted to show Mister his fishing rods. We hung out with Mister’s dad and then had dinner with Mister’s ex-stepson. Mister had 4 step kids when he was 22. He was married for 10 years and this is the 2nd to oldest. They bonded and it was a regular love fest (which is awesome) and then we went back to Mister’s dad’s house. Packed up and left.

We drove until just east of Tallahassee and then stopped at a Holiday Inn Express that was pretty nice.

6/27 I was up with the chickens and wanting to pack up and get the hell home. I was grating on Mister’s nerves as my caffine addiction reached a fever pitch and I would NOT shut up (RE: See this post for the love of God.). Mister made himself a little nest in the back seat, plugged in his converter, his laptop into that and the wireless card and did research all the way to my parent’s house … at 2 (fucking) am.

6/28 I slept until 11 am and then we went to lunch with my folks. My goal was to be home Saturday evening so I could have ONE day before I had to go back to the office. I promised not to push Mister in leaving my parent’s house. I even kept my yawp shut when after lunch and a chat with my parents Mister went to take a nap. I packed up and took a little 15 minute cat nap too. Then we were off for Dallas.

Found out my sister is being tested for Lupus. My mother doesn’t know. NOBODY TELL.

We got in at 7:30 pm and I had enough time to unpack and do some laundry before I went to bed at around 1 am.

6/29 Picked up the dog from Doggie Wonderland. Did laundry. Ate Pei Wei, was disappointed.

6/30 Back to work. Picked up the cat after work, went home. Laundry.

7/1 Found out Mister has to have shoulder surgery on the 18th.

Fucking June.

Note to readers: Kind readers. Hi, I love you and want to make out with you a little bit, but because of proximity and that whole “you really aren’t into me in that way” thing I will just tell you a secret. This secret has a back story. Stop rolling your eyes at me. I know I am one to ramble on a while, but this back story is needed for you to get the full, ah HA! moment of the secret.

Do y’all remember that Rotary Club Gala thing where Mister almost paid $1275.00 for a Shi Tzu puppy? To refresh your memory... click here but scroll down halfway... then he wizened up and we got Zeke? Yes? Okay. At that same gala we bid on several items in the silent auction. We also won a few things in the silent auction. We figured, “Eh, charity... good cause, gimme another drink... [garbled mumblings].” So Mister got a brass door knob/paper weight from the capitol building in Austin (it’s totally cool), I got a Swarovski crystal angel fish broach that is mostly black and goes with everything, together with our “go to couple” (Gayla and Michelle) we got a dinner/cooking lesson thingy for six people and then I got a spa package for five ARASYS treatments for a steal.

The ARASYS treatments are what I want to tell you guys about. That is the closest website I could find to describe what is actually involved.

There is this little place here in Dallas called the Mapleshade Spa. It is a charming home that has been converted into a spa and I want to live there. The gift certificate from the Rotary Club gala had a few restrictions on it and the person who is the ARASYS specialist had a few time restrictions as well but I called and got my five appointments set up with Signey (like Sidney with a G) and started the first one on May 1st.

The appointments are an hour and part of the time is the actual set up of the ARASYS machine, pads, treatment spots and the like. Signey was fast, efficient and pleasant (she’s absolutely fabulous and hysterical... love her) and she could fit in two 17 minute treatments in my hour long appointments that I took over my lunch hour and I would be back at work to finish out my day.

Here’s the deal. When I was younger... and dancing all of the time I had very strong legs, my back and my ass were rock hard and I had a lot of core strength. But I have never, ever had upper body strength. My little T-Rex arms have always been limp little noodles. Sure, I could hold my frame when in ballet or dancing with a partner and my hands are strong so that helped with Jitterbugging... but my little arms? Imagine a five year old anemic little girl hauling off and hitting you as hard as she can. That? Is me.

Well, was. In the four weeks that I have had my five ARASYS treatments I have developed guns.

I still have a bit of that second wave thing (also known as granny bat arms) going on, but come on, what do you expect? Miracles? Ben and Jerry (my tummy lumps) have decreased and you may not be able to tell that I have a six pack under my nice warm layer of fat, but let me tell you what... I can feel them. And my ass? If it were any higher, I’d have to reach over my shoulder to get my wallet out of my back pocket.

I’m still large and in charge and not apologizing for it.

But...

Welcome to the fucking gun show, bitches.

I’m currently wallowing in self pity and a mixture of selfishness and angst.

Happy Birthday to me.

It’s all really no big deal of course, and I am probably (actually I am most likely) blowing this whole thing completely out of proportion but ... dammit, I’m cranky.

Let’s talk positives first.

We’ve discussed my love for Etsy.com yes? Yes. And because my husband listens and because I am not passive aggressive and or expect him to read my mind... I sent him a link to my favorites from Etsy and also another link with the word, “Want.”

I went to San Antonio Thursday afternoon for the shortest stay ever (less than 24 hours for a planning meeting on Friday) and was home before 8 o’clock p.m. Friday evening. Mister met me at the door in his t-shirt and boxers (because I like it like that) and was practically hopping from foot to foot with his excitement because my presents had come in the mail while I was out of town.

He sat me on the couch and opened a packet in front of me and told me to close my eyes. When I opened them he had a beautiful antique silver spoon bracelet in his hands. He put it on me and I was surprised to find that I was able to slide it on and off of my wrist like a bangle. It is so pretty and the pattern is from like 1949 or something.

Then he sprinted into the dining room and retrieved another gift from the table and made me close my eyes again. I did so and heard him wrestling with bubble wrap. I wanted to open my eyes because it sounded like he was fighting with the package and I wanted to see, but I kept them closed and because I am a freak and he loves me anyway... he held the gift up for me to smell.

I sniffed.

And sniffed again.

The fragrance of oil paints and varnish wafted up my nostrils and I asked to open my eyes. In front of me was this gorgeous diptych with all the rich colors that we have in our home. It is so pretty. Lookit....

See? Preeeeeeeeeeeeeetttty.

It took us an hour and a half to hang them just off the foyer going into the living room. And I wasn’t even trying to help at the math part. We hung them side by side with about an inch in between them. I am so in love with this gift.

Saturday morning we got up early and ran around doing errands. I count about eight errands that I recall. And then we went to my sister’s house for my niece’s third birthday. Kids everywhere and balloons and cake and bubbles and squealing and sticky little fingers. It was precious.

After the party the six adults, Mister and I, my sister and her husband and my parents went to dinner.

This is how dinner plans get made with our family. “Oh, Sue and Mister are trying to lose weight, we’ll go somewhere healthy for dinner. What do you want Sue? You want what? Sushi? Okay fish it is. Hey gang!? We’re going to Rock Fish for dinner.” And throughout this whole conversation that my mother was having with herself the only thing I said (outloud) was sushi.

And they do not have sushi at Rock Fish.

It was a very nice meal and our waiter was attentive and the lady chef has a massive crush on Mister.

He held his hand up to tell her thank you for the food and compliment her... and to ask about turmeric and saffron in the rice... and she grabbed his big paw and held his hand as they spoke. She was totally in love with him. LURVE, I say.

He? Was a little uncomfortable... but she was good lookin and made great food... FLIRT man, Flirt!

We went back to my sister’s house after dinner to have my birthday cake. It was delicious. From Central Market and had fresh strawberries layered between white cake and ... just yum. I get the same cake every year. Or any time I get a cake... It is the same one I had for our wedding reception. My parents tried to get me to take the cake home but alas, I cannot be trusted with that much sugar flavored lard in the house.*

*Two weeks ago I was having massive cramps in the middle of a two and a half week cycle and I asked for some cookies and cream ice cream. Bryer’s. Mister brought some home and I ate the whole half gallon in a week. I cannot be trusted, I tell you.

So Mister and I went home and collapsed into bed.

Yesterday... my actual birthday... rolled around and we got up. Mister brought me breakfast in bed and then we did some other stuff. We went to lunch at Passado’s, then to Retro Revolution to buy a few more little fun things for my piercing and then to PetSmart for some cat litter**.

**I lead a charmed life, no?

We were supposed to go to see Iron Man because I am a twelve year old boy who happens to have a massive crush on wounded drug addicts. Ah, Robert Downey Jr... How I love thee? But Mister came down with a gigantic headache so I decided that I would take the dog to the dog park, BUT FIRST!.... I would swing by my sister’s house to see my parents who are staying in town with the kids while my sister and her husband escape for a few days annnnnnd introduce them to the dog.

Imagine the “But FIRST!” part in that cartoon guy announcer’s voice.

My parents are coming in town and staying with Mister and I next weekend. My mother wants to take me shopping for my birthday. We have an eighty pound German Shepherd in the house and my mother is afraid of... well, everything really. Small dogs scare her, large dogs scare her... birds... fish... air. (This is where I confess to really wanting a large rat to round out our household... but ferrets are more boneless and all around squishier, but smell worse. I can just see my mother. Handing her a ferret, “Here, hold this tube sock with eyes... “... and her reply? “Ew EW, gedditofffameeeee! Geddditoffamee!”)

So I loaded Zeke up into my car, Mister begged off of going because of said migraine headache thingy above... apologizing profusely for having a headache on my birthday. Poor guy. In what life did someone make him feel bad about something so stupid. I can just see his exwife, or mother... or some high maintenance girlfriend, “Hmmmmpff, you have a headache!?!?!? On MY BIRTHDAY!!!!?!!!? The nerve.”

Meanwhile, back in the storyline where I wasn’t going off track...

I got to my sister’s house like twenty-seven seconds later and Zeke and I popped out and went to the door. My mother and my niece answer, both with huge grins on their face and my niece starts calling Zeke and smiling at my mother and I. They stood back and Zeke walked in and went straight to the living room where my father and nephew were playing Wii. My dad was sitting on the floor and Zeke went and put his nose next to my father, my dad pushed his muzzle away gently saying, “Let’s not get to friendly too fast big boy.” So Zeke backed up and sat down then walked around sniffing.

My mother asked me to put him outside, so I did, with my niece following. She went out to play in her sandbox and my mother stood at the door... I am sure... just waiting for the dog to lunge at my three year old niece and have a mid afternoon snack of cuteness. My mother finally relaxed then tensed again. She called my niece inside and asked if we wanted a slice of cake. So I left Zeke outside and helped my mother with the cake.

Zeke marked a tree or two then came up to the sliding glass door and with my niece on one side and he on the other he wagged his tail and she pressed her whole body into the glass door, “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke... Zeke!” So I opened the door and he came inside. We all sat down at the table and had some cake. I asked Zeke to sit and then to lay down, he did as he was asked and then my niece wanted to talk to him.

She ignored her cake in favor of the dog. “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke... Zeke!”

This is the part where I tell you that my mother’s best friend when she was little was a German Shepherd named Jack. My mother was just telling me that Jack used to get in between her and her nanny, Rosie when my niece slipped out of her chair and came around the table to pet Zeke.

The first time my niece met Zeke she stepped on his hip, I think because she wanted to lay on him. Not out of malice. But that time, at the park, with her mother and father right there, Zeke gave her a “Woof!” as in, “Ow. That hurts, step off.” So she and most people under three feet tall make him a wee bit nervous.

After he barked at her that first time, she hugged him and he licked her hand. All forgiven.

In the kitchen yesterday she accidentally stepped on one of his back feet, he, of course, said, “Woof Woof!” and my niece backed up a step but then went to pet him again. My mother on the other hand grabbed the child from the floor and held her head to her breast like the demon dog (with no lower canines... he is old y’all. OLD.) was going to attack her grandchild.

The look on my mother’s face was pure terror. I picked up his leash and said, “Thank you for the cake, we’re gonna head out.” My mother told me to sit down and finish my cake. I sat. And she sat, with my niece in her lap, “Just don’t go next to the dog [niece], let’s just have our cake.” My niece? Quietly, “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke... Zeke!” She reached out a foot to him and he in turn gave her a paw. It was awesome. But my mother was terrified.

I shoveled a piece of cake into my face and tried to get out of there so quickly.

My mother insisted that I take the cake home. Just the day before she and my father both patted Mister and I approvingly on our smaller frames. “Well... You guys just look Great!” If this would have been a few months prior? My mother wouldn’t have tried to send the cake home with me. It’s weird how that shit happens.

I got Zeke on his leash and because (he is so incredibly menacing and blood thirsty for three year old little girls) I have to lift his old ass into and out of my little Chevy Equinox my father carried the cake out to my car for me, he put it in the passenger seat while I lifted Zeke into the back.

I told my dad thanks again for dinner and the cake and I went home. I got Zeke out of the back at home and then went to get the cake and my purse and keys out of the passenger seat. I tipped the cake and it fell, frosting first in between the front seats and into the console.

Awesome.

This was turning out to be a peach of a day.

The cat came and sat on my lap and Zeke put his head on my knee when I sat on the couch. It is almost as if they knew I was about to lose my shit. Mister looked up and asked, “So, how was it?” I mumbled something about a “Fucking Disaster” and then my face dissolved into a mess of hot tears and snot.

Mister came over and sat beside me and I had my three favorite boys all basically in my lap. The cat, the dog and my loving husband all trying to comfort me. I was trying to eloquently describe why it is so important to me that my parents like my dog. But all I came up with was, “Fuck it. Zeke is a part of our little family and... “ [hitching sob and then more crying].

I am a master at the English language.

I know on some level I was worried that my mother’s fear would instill fear into my niece, but my niece has no fear. She is a little warrior who loves tea parties and to shake her bootie. Maybe I am just so in love with this dog that it hurts MY feelings that my mother is irrational about how she feels towards a member of my family.

I had years of that when I was married to X. I knew how they felt, but I wanted to make it work. This? This is not a husband who will screw around on me and steal money. This? Is a dog. A sweet, gentle, kind, loving dog. He is big. But he is old.

Yes, yes, I know... “It only takes one time.” Whatever. It only takes one time for a lot of things, only one time to get pregnant, to get fired for doing a report the wrong way, to get hit by a drunk driver, to get pulled out by the rip tide... but Zeke hasn’t bitten my niece and he keeps giving her chances... chances to step on him, to love him, to be near him.

I’m going by there tonight to take my mother her gift for Mother’s Day, it didn’t come in until this morning. If she says one word about how scary Zeke is... or that they have decided not to come to the house next weekend. I guess I will just have to live with it.

I have the most random story to tell you people but I am waiting. Mister said it wouldn’t be smart to spew forth with my randomness all over the Internets for Google reaches far and wide. Kinda like the government. And string cheese. And my sister in her infinite wisdom doesn’t think anyone would give a shit to even Google said randomness.

Instead, let’s talk about Bob Segar. Lord, y’all... that man makes me swoon in the old fashioned style of a little bit of perspiration, back of the hand to the forehead, a little fanning with a church bulletin and an exclamation of “Oh my.” I don’t care who you are, what sex, age, race, creed, religion and or planetary obligation... but damn. Anything from “Hollywood Nights”, “Still The Same”, ”Turn The Page”... and Dear Miss Ethel [dabbing my forehead with a hanky]... “Come To Papa” is hot. HoTT. His music makes my blood a wee bit boil-y.

In the same music vein...

Mister, my sister, my brother in law and I went to a CF benefit concert on Saturday down in Deep Ellum. It was so pretty outside and there were so many bands playing. They put together a compilation CD with all proceeds going to Cystic Fibrosis and the door gave all the money to the cause and they did silk screen shirts and pictures. Lovie, El Gato and a frillion other bands contributed to make the night awesome.

I cried.

Once.

What? One of the dudes (singing type dude) from El Gato is in Polyphonic Spree now and the song they started off with was just beautiful. My sister was all, “There’s no crying in Club Dada!”

Have I waited long enough to tell y’all the randomness?

You all are aware that I am a bucket of crazy right? Yes? Yes. Okay. Just keep that in mind, deal?

Friday morning I came into the office and my boss asked me if she could talk to me about something, she hastened to add, “Totally unrelated to work.” I answered her, “But of course.” So she said something along the lines of, “I don’t know anything about jewelry and I want to buy my daughter and her teammates some earrings with a little letter on them because they made it to state.” So I went searching for silver stamped earrings.

Have I ever told you guys that I have a problem? I have a substance abuse problem. The substances are shoes, products, jewelry and makeup. Have I ever told y’all that certain sites are like porn to me? Sephora... Etsy... Mighty Goods... Zappos... Saks Fifth Avenue... Neiman Marcus... ah, the list, she is long.

Anyway, I have been rooting around on etsy for a while now and when this opportunity came up to find 5 pairs of silver stamped earrings (basically a custom order) for my boss I went ahead and signed up for an account. Bad mistake. I found so many things that I would love to have as my very own. Beautiful jewelry, art, pictures, accessories. Y’all? I need to stand up and say this, “Hello, my name is Susan and I am an addict... to Etsy*.”

*Please visit my main page and see the pretty little etsy favorites list I have going. Tell me about yours too. I’d love to see the pretty things you all love.

So, there I was, searching for the earrings and I was in contact with several jewelers. They were all so nice, available and had the prettiest things. One lady in particular was kind enough to do a little mock up of what she had in mind for the specs that I gave her. She nailed it spot on. My boss loved the idea and the mock up and the order was placed yesterday.

During my conversations with this nice lady (she was so professional and kind) I had a little light go on in my noggin. Let’s say her name is... Lisa. It’s totally not. But for this purpose it is. Let’s also say that she is married to a dude named Larry. So in my noggin I am all, “Lisa... Lisa... hmmm... Lisa Gibson. Lisa... Gibson, I totally know that name.” I clicked on her profile to see where she was. She’s on the west coast. The Lisa Gibson I know is on the west coast. Well, one of the Lisa Gibson’s I know... but that is beside the point.

So I decided to search for her husband, Larry... Larry Gibson. Again, NOT his real name. I find Larry’s website and there’s a picture. Yup, it’s Larry... and on his links site there is a link back to her site at Etsy. It says something like, “Lovely designs by a Beautiful Woman.” Yep. Lisa and Larry Gibson. Totally married. And I? Went to their wedding.

Okay. Back up.

Do you all remember This Guy?

Notice how his name is Mike Gibson?

Yeah?... Yeah.

So... Lisa is Mike’s sister in law. I just ordered jewelry from her. During our conversations, when I realized that I knew who I was talking to (after Googling her husband and seeing the links and pictures and Dear Lord, my brain about exploded), I actually put a PS in one of the conversations. It was this, “PS... I think I attended your wedding.”

Why?

BECAUSE I am a complete asshole... And AND I forgot that I was using suzannd as my Etsy sign in name AND my email link is suzanna.danna@gmail.com AND AND AND I forgot that in my last entry as I was talking about orgasms, as I am want to do... I admitted (see the bottom of the page) that I totally faked it with Mike.

She never mentioned a word about my comment on attending her wedding. So, who knows if she knows who I am. It totally doesn’t matter this many years later. But how random is that shit?

Lord.

But she has really pretty jewelry. Totally NOT linking to her though.

I believe that I was completely off about the whole “barely being 20” thing in the story of Sue and Jay Go To Austin (go back a few entries). I had to have been “barely 21” that May. You know how I know this*? Well, dear reader, it is because that very November I started dating this charming redneck... after all, Jay and I had not had the “we’re exclusive” talk. Right? Right. Hush and leave me to my rationalization. It totally works.

I ended up marrying that redneck about a year later when I was 22 (aside to Notify Lister’s... I know... I KNOW... I mean, what the fuck was I thinking?) and said redneck took great pride in thinking he stole me away from Jay.

But not before I took Jay on one last trip.

Let me back up. I’m going to drop all of the Sue said this... Jay said this shit and just tell you about our little whirlwind courtship.

After our little trip to Austin we would see each other around, go out every once in a while, call one another to come over, which was code for “my roommates are out for the night, we have privacy... hurry.” or do what we did best... take little road trips.

I can remember several. Here is one of my favorites.

One evening Jay called and asked me if I had plans for the weekend, I said that I didn’t (except for the normal drunken debauchery with my friends) and he asked me if I would go to Houston with him. I agreed and as a little inside joke asked him if I should pack anything special. He said no, but then said something along the lines of, “We have plans for Friday evening and Saturday afternoon and evening. Actually, would you bring a dress? I want to take you to one of my favorite restaurants in Houston.” I agreed and actually packed the brown sundress. (Am Smart.)

We left and drove down Friday afternoon. When I asked where we were going he said it was a surprise. I followed his directions and ended up somewhere just outside of downtown Houston in a parking lot. We parked and then walked around the side of a building to see this massive expanse of cars and... Oooh! A Big Top was planted right in the middle of everything. THE Big Top actually. The circus was the surprise, Awwww!

I lurve circuses, I love animals, balloons, popcorn and cotton candy, the excitement of the trapeze acts and the chaos of it all.

Except for the whole clown thing, circuses are 2nd in line only to my love for amusement parks and roller coasters.

Clowns... eeeesh.

So we walked up and Jay produced two tickets that he had purchased in advance and we went into the circus. We had cotton candy and popcorn and enjoyed the show. It was one of the sweetest gestures because I had just mentioned that I loved the circus in passing and this man brought me to Houston for the circus!

Jay also had another surprise (among many).

Saturday morning he asked me if I would mind stopping by his parents’ house for before we did anything else. What was I going to say, “NO! I Hate people. Especially parents... gah.” When in fact I love parents and for some reason I always make a fantastic impression.

Side Note: Mister’s parents’ excluded because his mom; within twenty minutes of meeting me; was all, “Susan? Will you join me in the cafeteria of the hospital?” Then in the cafeteria, “So, Susan... tell me about your testimony.” “...Um. ...!?” Then I faked a seizure.

So... I said sure to Jay, and we got ready and headed to his parents’ house.

We drove into a very nice neighborhood and pulled up to a pretty house that looked similar to the home that I grew up in. We got out of the car and went to the door. Jay walked in and held the door for me and then his parents came out of the kitchen to greet us. They were very sweet and his mother and I talked easily while his father told Jay that his brother was in town. They offered us lunch but Jay said that we had other plans and that we’d come back in a few weeks and go to lunch with them if that was alright. They agreed and we all said our goodbyes.

Back in the car Jay said, “They like you.” “Why wouldn’t they?” If that were now, I would have added...”I’m awesome.” But I hadn’t yet refined confident sarcasm at that point.

This is where it gets fuzzy, and let me tell you why. There were multiple trips to Houston. On one trip I think I was staying with LuLu and her family and somewhere during the weekend Jay and Jason (his buddy) came to get us to go dancing. And another time (or the same time?... I just don’t know!) we all ended up going to Galveston and swimming in the gulf, then sleeping in my car and in the morning I bathed in a handicap sink at the Burger King bathroom in Texas City. Am polished and very ladylike.

That evening after meeting Jay’s parents we went back downtown to the Hilton (Holiday Inn?) in which we were staying. I took a shower first and while Jay was taking his shower I dressed in my little brown sundress and put minimal make up on. I was excited about a little surprise I had planned. I slid some thigh high nude stockings on and fastened them to a garter belt I had from my years working at Victoria’s Secret... and that is all I put on under my pretty sundress. I slid on the croc pumps, put my license, some cash and some lip gloss in the small brown purse I brought for the occasion and was ready by the time Jay got done with his shower.

He stepped out of the bathroom and began to dress. He was very complimentary about my outfit. I thought I was so sneaky and felt incredibly sexy with my little secret so when we went downstairs and walked out the front door, down a block, turned a corner and then entered into the restaurant that Jay had said was one of his favorites I was very relaxed and looking forward to a nice meal.

It was an Italian place and the maître d' and sommelier knew Jay by name. The maître d' sat us next to the window in this beautiful area and before he left us to the waiter he mentioned that Jay’s brother and a group were there as well. Jay excused himself and said he needed to go say hello to his brother. I sat and took in the surroundings. It was beautiful, very ultra modern and sleek. I looked over the menu and decided to let Jay order for me. He returned with an apology and a sweet kiss on my temple.

He ordered a bottle of water for me and a glass of red wine for himself. When I told him that I would like him to order for me his face lit up and he said, “I have the perfect thing!” When the waiter came around he ordered the house salad and the seafood linguine for both of us and asked the waiter to surprise us with dessert. Then he sat back and sipped his wine with a small smile on his face.

I always felt so grown up around Jay. We may have played, joked and kidded around, but he wasn’t like the other boys that I had dated before, nor was he like anyone in the small town where we lived. He had professed that he had a crush on me for many months and we spent as much time together when we could but I really appreciated that he didn’t try to take over all of my time. He was busy, I was busy. We saw each other when we could but there were no restrictions.

To be perfectly honest, I loved it and hated it at the same time.

When our dinner came I looked down at the seafood linguine and was surprised to see teeny little octopi with their little tentacles all curled up in the red sauce. I asked Jay what about this dish was his favorite part and he speared one off of his plate and fed it to me saying, “This part.” When he put the little octopus in my mouth and I started chewing it I was both pleased and very surprised by the taste and texture of it. The food was delicious. Absolutely amazing. The bread was fresh, the salads were crisp, the entrees were incredible and the crème brûlée was perfect.

After we finished our meal Jay ordered another glass of wine for himself and a beer for me. We sat there talking for a while and I couldn’t contain my secret any longer. I had my legs crossed and we had been sitting hip to hip, I turned my knees towards him and took his hand under the table. I led his fingers in unbuttoning the croc buttons that ran up my left leg of the sundress. He unbuttoned four of the buttons and then lightly pushed the linen of the dress to either side and then ran his finger under the top of my stocking. His eyes twinkled and he moved his hand over the top of my thigh finding the garter belt fastener, grinning he asked what else did I have on under the sundress. I motioned for him to lean closer so I could whisper something in his ear. When he did and I said, “Nothing.” And bit his earlobe gently.

He buttoned the slit in my dress and called for the check.

After he paid, he took my hand to help me from the table and then we walked over to say goodbye to his brother. His brother asked us to stay and Jay just said, “No thank you.” And with his hand at the small of my back he guided me to the door.

We walked back to the hotel and when we got back up to the room he unzipped the sundress and pulled it over my head while I stood in the middle of the room. I didn’t feel self conscience or fat when Jay looked at me, so... when he said that he just wanted to take me in for a moment I didn’t cover my breasts or my little belly, I stood there in heels, thigh high stockings, a black garter belt and pearl earrings and let him look.

MISSING REEL

I can’t really tell you guys all of that evening, it’s mine. But, in homage to Jay’s prowess I will just admit that I broke a headboard off of the wall in the hotel room that night. Oh, and one word. Oral.

Since there were no restrictions on our relationship and we had never had the “we’re exclusive” talk we just spent time with one another when we could.

One time in a very sweet move Jay and Jason drove me to a rendezvous point to meet up with my sister and her boyfriend (now husband) so he (the boyfriend, now brother in law) could drive my sister and I to Georgia when our grandfather passed.

There was a man that I was sort of seeing (redneck mentioned in second paragraph above) and he and Jay both knew of one another. I wasn’t sleeping with anyone but Jay but I had a wedding to go to. Redneck offered to let me use his truck for the trip to Sherman, TX. I had a car and never asked to use the truck, so him offering was totally out of the blue. I asked him if he was absolutely sure. He said, “Absofuckinglutely.” I think he was expecting me to ask him to accompany me to the wedding. He said that he was just being a nice guy. So I took the offer, and took Jay to the wedding... in redneck’s truck.

Heh.

Redneck stepped up his game and actually sent me a dozen peach colored roses while he was away hunting in South Texas. Sending a chick flowers while you are hunting? Learn the lesson of the jedi youngsters. I don’t know about y’all... but damn, that got my attention.

I always say that everyone has a “what if’ person. I never have admitted to anyone, including myself (seriously, like just now... right this very second) that Jay may have been my “what if” person. What if redneck hadn’t sent the flowers? What if Jay had asked me to be exclusive? What if I had never married the redneck?

Le sigh... after all of this stuff I went through about 4 phone calls to find out how to spell Jay’s last name. I found out that he didn’t graduate until a few years after I did. He was older than I was and definitely more mature. I got my first job offer guess where? In Houston. They offered me over 40K in salary. In 1994 that was big money to me. But you all know what I did... right? I turned down the job and married the redneck on the same day I graduated. And when I left.... five or six years later? I was making 21.5K. Boy howdy. Them’s some big bucks.

::eyeroll::

In looking for Jay online I found this collection of pictures that make me want to cry. I got to the part of the slideshow with Christmas 2007 and that tree lit up like it had Spanish moss in icicle lights and had to close the window. Damn.

So... “what if” huh? I know I wouldn’t have learned the lessons that I did... nor would I be the person I am today. I wouldn’t be as strong as I am or have the fucking material to write this bullshit. And the biggest thing is that I probably wouldn’t have met Mister and that in itself would be a tragedy.

*Also, hi... had my first big O when I was 21**. Totally with Jay, that night. You’d think I’d remember how old I was.
**21? Sad right? Yeah. Oh and hey... Mike Gibson? I totally faked it.