« January 2006 | Main | March 2006 »

February 2006 Archives

February 1, 2006

I'll just hide in the bathroom. The. Whole. Damn. Time.

Dear Concrete Company that is busting up my cul-de-sac,
Hate you.
That is all.
With venom and daggers from my eyes,

I took off from work yesterday at 1 pm. I told myself that it was so I could go get some sleep but with the construction going on in front of (and in) my yard, there was not going to be much resting until they stopped their little crunchy/SLAM!/scrape-scrape at 7 pm - again with the hate. Did I mention that they start at 6 o団lock? No? Well, just to make sure that we are not confused here, that is 6 am� like morning time. Can you say crack of Dawn?

You don稚 know Dawn? She痴 a tart, always showing the crack of her ass. A little modesty could go a long way Dawn.

Anyway� So, the real reason I took off? Well, I was super productive up until say, oh noonish and then I hit a wall. An 選 don稚 wanna anymore� wall. Those kinds of barricades don稚 just fall down on their own. You have to come at them with both barrels blazing. Barrels of 鍍ake off early from work� and 杜aybe read some Patricia Cornwell or just watch VH1 with the cat in your lap�.

Ladies and Gents, I have senioritis in a bad way. I am SO looking forward to this weekend with my friends. I am also a bit anxious about going to Nacogdoches. Why you ask? Well, to make a long story very short� if you are new and have not perused the archives� I have history there. History and an ex-husband in law enforcement.

X? No, he wouldn稚 cause any trouble. He wants everyone to like him (it just really didn稚 work that well on me for a long period of time), and his brother is the same way. Just about as docile as lambs (shut it Trix�. Trying to paint a picture here. Eh.).

I am, however, worried about my ex-mother-in-law. She is an unhappy, masochistic, holy-rolling, matriarchal, passive aggressive bitch. And I mean that in the sweetest of ways.

Ok, so no, I don稚. I really can稚 stand the woman.

Her son and I have been divorced since� oh, about five or six years (I left in 1999) and just last year she sent me pictures. In her letter, 泥on稚 forget about meeeeeeee� blah blah blah sourpuss blah.� She sent pictures. Pictures she said that were of my ex-step-daughter.

Y誕ll? There was ONE picture of my ex-step-daughter and about 6 or 7 others of my ex-husband, my ex-father-in-law, my ex-bother-in-law, all of their trucks and motorcycles and anything that she could tout, 鉄ee this? My offspring are manly men.� Gah. If she hears that I am in town the hotel will get a call, which they will thoughtfully patch through and I will hear, 展ell, aren稚 you going to come out and see me?�

Oh, hell no.

There will be a rule. No one answers the damn phone in the hotel room. No one. You need me? Call my cell, or knock on the door.

Oh shit. What if she comes to the hotel and knocks on my door?

Ok. Two rules, no answering the phone and nobody is allowed to answer the door either.

I値l just hide in the bathroom. The. Whole. Damn. Time.

I am also sad because a few of the crew can稚 make it. LuLu and Mr. LuLu are going to be there, D� and Glo are going to go, J.Wo will be there Jay & Brenna will be there (they have no choice, they live in Nac.) and Mister and I are getting to go. But Chad can稚 come, Trix said that she would rather boil in hot cow shit than be in the same town as our ex-mother-in-law (although she said it a lot more colorfully) and I just found out this morning that Troy and his wife Shi will not be able to come.

Which brings to light another issue.

Last week I was in the car with my boss (seriously, this ties in� just give me a moment, or twelve). For some reason we were discussing the churches we grew up attending. He asked me why I don稚 go there anymore and I told him that Dr. Preacher at said church would give a three-point sermon ever damn Sunday. It was so tedious, so easy to predict� and the nail that sealed that coffin shut (ooh, damn, poor choice of words) was the fact that he did a three-point sermon when he was, in fact, supposed to be delivering a heartfelt eulogy for one of my friend痴 mother, yes� at her own funeral.

At the name of the mother my boss said, 添ou mean Betty ____? E痴 ex wife?� And I squealed, 迭 and W痴 mother!� and we both yelped, 添ES!�

Not very excited that we knew a woman who had passed or that Dr. Preacher did a three-point sermon in place of her eulogy, but because we knew some of the same people.

Boss went on to tell me that R and his wife S had just moved back to town and they opened a chiropractor痴 office. R and his wife are both doctors and R痴 dad and his wife were going to be moving back here from the Carolina痴.

Squeal, squeal squeal� so excited to know they are back. Yadda yadda yadda� ya値l get the point.

The next day boss calls me and says, 的 got their information for you. His email is Blah and their phone number is Blah-Dee-Bloo.�

So I have the way to contact R.

R used to write me poetry in the 8th grade (still waters and all that) and send me flowers for no reason. He spent most of his middle and high school years at our house. My dad, when ordering pizza for my group of friends, would order R his own pizza.

There is history there.

He is a stoic marble of stoically silence. Very stoic� you see?

On the way home from work after getting R痴 information I called my dad.
Self: 添o, Pop� guess who moved back to town?�
Daddy: 展ho?�
Self: 迭 and his wife, and they opened their own chiropractic practice.�
Daddy: 徹h wow, that痴 great, yeah I remember you telling me that he was in school to be a doctor.�
Self: 填h, I did?�
Daddy: 添eah, when you saw him at his mother痴 funeral.�
Self: 徹h, well, that was the last time I saw him.�
Daddy: 迭eally? What did he say?�
Self: 填h, I think it went along the lines of, 全usan.� And I said back, 然� and then he introduced me to his wife, she hugged me and was all 前h, I have heard so much about you�. That痴 it.�
Daddy: 展ell, baby, you know that if you want to have any kind of contact with him, you will have to make the first move. He痴 very�.�
Self: 鉄toic?�
Daddy: 添eah.�

So I asked Mister the next day at lunch if he thinks I should contact him. And Mister said, 展ell, you do seem to put a lot of importance on old friendships� more than those whom you had the friendships with. Not that that is a bad thing��

Basically, I get all het up and excited when the prospect of an old friendship presents itself. Mini-reunions, hanging out with the Ya-Ya痴, friends from my childhood. You know, sappy shit. For God痴 sake, I looked up my 5th grade boyfriend. And when that excitement isn稚 reciprocated, I get my little feelings hurt. But, Mister is right, I care about people who have shared a part of my life, no matter how small. (Except my ex-mother-in-law. She痴 just pure evil.) That is why it was always so hard for me to actually burn that bridge and shut the door on friendships/relationships that have run their course.

So my question is this. Email R and be all, 滴ey man, glad to hear you are back in town. I was talking to boss and he mentioned your family. Just wanted to send you a little note to say, I AM NEEDY, PLEASE TALK TO ME!� Ok, maybe not that last part. But I just don稚 know if I should open myself up again.

Lordy-bee, this sounds like a Dear Dairy entry. My apologies.

February 6, 2006

Weekend With Friends in Nac Part I

Victoria Principle in a two-story igloo, it is SO freaking cold in my office. I have on a sweater, a jacket and another jacket draped over my legs with my hands through the arm holes so I can type. The thermometer says 74 degrees, but I normally get down to being hot by 69 degrees so I am going to come out publicly and scorn the temperature gage by calling it a lying whore.

That reminds me.

Note to self: set DVR to record Christopher Titus’s “Norman Rockwell Is Bleeding” on Comedy Central.

Which also reminds me… why did they cancel that show Titus? Stacey Keach was brilliant and I loved the format.

WARNING - Segue-free zone ahead:

I have decided once and furry for all that I should not drink caffeinated beverages.

I could just tell you that they make me jittery and all talky-speaky and leave it at that, but where would the fun in that be? I submit that the fun would be nowhere.

So now, with your permission, I present to you Why I Shouldn’t Drink Four Dr. Peppers in a 24 Hour Time Span by Suzanna Danna. Also, this could be called, I Really Just Want to Tell Y’all About the Weekend but that doesn’t have as much zing in the title.

Question Number One: “Who woke up at 4:21 am last Thursday morning because she was so excited about the upcoming weekend?”
Answer: Um, yeah, that big bag of freak would be me.

So let’s just say that I, Suzanna Danna, being of sound mind (riiiiiiiight) and body was up with Dawn’s ass, and then the construction concrete people started in again at 6 am.


The plan for the weekend was simple. Mister and I both took off work on Friday so we could drive to my parents' house in (or just outside of) Tyler (which is 2/3rds the way to Nacogdoches) Thursday night, stay the night, go to lunch with them on Friday and then go on into Nacogdoches on Friday afternoon, meet friends and commence with the partying for the mini-reunion/D’Wayne’s 40th/Brenna’s 35th birthday.

Easy Peasy right?

Mister and I worked all Thursday and then zoomed home to pack (because who packs the day she leaves for a trip? ME! That’s who!). We played Barbie Mister the Fashion Plate and got all of his outfits (‘golfing Mister’, ‘going out to dinner Mister’ and ‘dancing at the club Mister – now 60% hotter with the new birthday shirt!’) in order and I threw 2 pairs of jeans, a few tops and almost every freakin shoe I own into a bag (I still left the ones I wanted to wear Saturday afternoon at the house… Gah!) and we left for my parents' house at… 8 o’clock.

Yes, yes… it did take us two hours to pack and feed the cat and rush around and look for a particular shirt and pack our electronics. Lord, the techies sung Hallelujah when I took a bag that was almost completely full of cords… cell phone chargers (car and outlet), iPod and accoutrement, lap top chargers you name it… We packed it. We had one full suitcase, the charger bag, another bag with our toiletries and my 5 brushes, blow dryer and curling iron, Mister’s laptop case and a large bag with eleventy four pairs of shoes and my pillow that weighs in at over twelve pounds. Oh, and don’t forget the hanging items and a heavy weight coat for each of us… just in case.

I was SO over myself by the time we left that I was thisclose to announcing (or asking) that we could leave for my parents' and then dive onto Nac on Friday. Because, come on already with the packing anxiety, the jewelry for every freaking occasion and the matching socks, the two twin sets and… GAH!

But we left and made good time and got to my parents' house at (how rude of us) 10:30 pm. And yes, of course I called and asked them if we could come on in or if we should wait until morning. “We’ll still be up baby, I’m not sure how long we’ll be up once y’all get here… but yes, go ahead and drive on in.”

So we did. And it was very nice to get to my parents' house, see my folks and then get all situated and bed down in a relaxing environment. I slept in my sister’s room and Mister slept in mine because, well, hi double bed that Mister sleeps diagonally across. I tossed a bit (OK already with the excitement, calm the fuck down) and kept turning the TV on because I couldn’t get to sleep… and then the birds started in (WHAT!? Is it spring? No! And it isn’t even sunrise, SHUT. UP. … I swear, they were in cahoots with the concrete construction guys) and then the thunderstorm started. Sweet. I was all, “Ok, I’m up, I’m up DAMMIT!”

My parents left for an appointment in town. We had plans to meet them at a great Mexican food restaurant at 12:15 or so. I showered and tried to get pretty to see my friends in Nacogdoches. Mister repacked the car. Or should I say re-stuffed? And we headed to meet my folks for lunch.

Did I mention it was raining?

Are you guys aware of the laws of physics I have to overcome to get my hair to be all pretty and smooth? Did I mention that as I was sprinting to the car with my purse, my jacket and one of the eleventy-four frillion bags that we packed, three Monster raindrops decided that they would love to meet their demise, in my scalp. Ew. Wet head. And consequently hair.

Rain meet hair… hair meet ::FWOMP!::… shit.

So, ok. Honkey afro to have lunch with the parents, run errands and to go to Nac with. Fine. Was it too much to want this weekend to be perfect? Yes? Oh, alright.

The chips and hot sauce (salsa) at the place we went for lunch are wonderful. And as I sat there stuffing my face full of the stuff a thought occurred to me.

“Self?” I said, “Since you have not been sleeping very well at all lately and the whole 4:21 am thing yesterday and those damn Nazi birds this morning… and you never know how late you will be staying up tonight… why don’t you break your little ‘no caffeine’ rule and have a Dr. Pepper? It may help keep you alert and awake late into the evening.” And myself answered, “OK.”

So there I was, at noon-thirty, ordering a Dr. Pepper to go with my lunch. And it was divine, Ambrosia of the gods I’d say. “Did you order another one?” you ask? Why yes, yes I did. So that was two LARGE Dr. Peppers within an hour and a half.

After lunch Mister and I left my parents and went to run a few errands in town.
1) Go to AutoZone or Pep Boys and replace shitty ass wiper blades on the car. CHECK!
2) Go to the golf store next door for balls (hee!), a better golf glove and some longer tees. CHECK!
3) Swing by Best Buy and use the gift certificate that my folks gave Mister for his birthday (it is Wednesday) to purchase a 1GB memory card for our new camera (Sony H1, thankyouverymuch) and a case for the camera. CHECK! And last but not least
4) Swing by Drug Emporium (love) and pick up a nail file and some fingernail polish remover… drool over all of the hair products and leave there weeping with longing (not really weeping, more of a whimpering). Checkity Check Check bitches!

And we were off!

We started down the highway and Mister noticed that I was particularly chatty.

Self: Soooooo, are you excited about this weekend? Boy howdy I am. I really enjoyed lunch with Momma and Daddy, I am so thrilled about this memory stick. Aren’t you excited about this weekend?
Mister: Yes, I am.
Self: Ok, so what we’re gonna do is go south on 69 until we hit 79 or 74 or something like that in Jacksonville and then we’re going to turn right past this house where this cops lives onto 204 and then take the 204 into Cushing and we’re going to pass through Reklaw and Lucas… and … Do you know what Reklaw stands for?
Mister: Um, no?
Self: It’s Walker backwards… and Sacul is Lucas backwards… really imaginative, those people… and then we’re going to turn right onto 259 that is really sort of-
Mister: Now, where are we going?
Self: We’re going to stay here on 69, and go south until we get to Jacksonville, and then over the bridge past the Brookshire’s on the Right and what I think used to be a Don King Chevrolet or something, definitely a Taco Bell around there somewhere, we are going to take a left and go to the-
Mister: Are we on 69 right now?
Self: Yes, Broadway is 69, we’re going to go south until we hit Jacksonville. Do you know who Leann Womack is?
Mister: Um. A country singer?
Self: Yes, she hails from Jacksonville. When we get to Jacksonville we are going to go left and then-

Ya’ll we had not even left the city limits and I was already on his last nerve.

I was asking him the same questions over and over and giving him directions like that old guy on the Clear Blue Easy pregnancy test commercial.

“Ya see, you are going to come to a fork in the road and, well it is two forks, four roads…”


More later y’all… I have typed almost four pages and I am not even to the Nacogdoches part of the weekend yet.

To be continued.

February 9, 2006

Weekend With Friends in Nac Part II

Best sentence I heard* last night**: “Oh honey please, you are so gay that your amoebas wear feather boas.”

Ok, on to part two of the Nacogdoches weekend story.

When we last left our heroine she was bugging the shit out of her patient, loving and kind husband by talking at speeds in excess of warp two. (“Engage.”)

So, we drove… well… Mister drove and I talked and talked and talked. Did I mention that before we even left the man had a headache? I am surprised I am not trying to make a home for myself in one of the booming metropolises (metropoli?) that we drove through on our way to my old college town.

He could have stopped the car and politely asked me to get out at any moment and looking back, I wouldn’t have blamed the poor man one bit. He could have pulled over in say… Gallatin, TX and said sweetly, “Baby, you are killing me. Now please kindly get the eff out. I will be back through this way sometime Sunday… or maybe not. Not until you shut the hell up.”

But he didn’t and we headed on into Nacogdoches.

The first stop? Continental Liquor on North Street of course. Scotch for Mister (to drown out my strident high pitched voice that interestingly gained a southern accent as soon as we crossed into Cherokee County) and several packs of smokes for me so I could relax and sound like Kathleen Turner by Sunday.

When we left there we went on a little treasure hunt to find a Smoke Barn to get a few cigars for the boys. Sadly, the Smoke Barn was not to be found, but Mister got a small tour of Nac all the same. We went south on University Drive and I asked him to keep going until he hit the loop (Loop 224). I wanted to take him by one of the plants that make up a large portion of the employment percentage for Nac… the Pilgrims Pride plant.

Note: I was trying to find a link to Bo Pilgrim saying, “I won’t sell ya a fat, yeller chicken.” Alas, I could not find said commercial, but please, oh dear Lord, please… click on this link right here and choose “Freshness Takes Flight”… the last little selection on the cartoon TV. Please, do it now. I’ll wait.

The lack of any viable irony kills me.

When I was working at a job in Nac that paid a very poultry paltry sum… the hours were long and tedious, the stress was great and I would answer the phone several times a week to hear the plant’s General Manager say, “What are you wearing?” The only thing that kept me sane (suuuuuuuuuuuure) was this little sticky note that I attached to my computer with the two words, “Chicken Parts”. Because regardless of how bad I thought it was, at least I wasn’t killing, plucking or dividing Pilgrims Pride (or Tyson) chicken into chicken parts on a daily basis.

The smell, the hairnets, the rubber boots… eeesh.

So we circled around the south side (Sout Siiiieeeeeede!) and drove up South Street to our hotel.

This is where it gets fun y’all.

Here is a little back story for you. Gloria, D’Wayne’s captivating bride, called me a few days into January and the following conversation took place:
Self: Hello?
Gloria: What are y’all doing the weekend of the 3rd and the 4th of February?
Self: Hmmm, well, my sister’s birthday is on the 30th… and I have to go to Charlotte the week before…
Gloria: When?
Self: Oh, the 21st through the 25th or something like that. Why? What’s up?
Gloria: D’Wayne’s 40th birthday is on the-
Self: Third… Oh holy shit we are old.
Gloria: Girl, I know it.
Self: So what are you thinking?
Gloria: I want to get everyone together in Nacogdoches and surprise D’Wayne.
Self: Oh My GOD. That would be the bestest idea ever.
Gloria: Would you help me plan it?
Self: Shit, I am so all over that… I’ll call the Fredonia right now. Wait… it’s 7:30 at night, I am sure no one will be working in the sales department.
Gloria: Why the Fredonia?
Self: They have an executive floor that has a commons area and they do happy hour at night and continental breakfast in the mornings and we could all be on one floor together and we could do the SURPRISE! thing in the little sitting area … and… and…
Gloria: Well, that is a good idea… ok, you call who you can and the hotel and I’ll call other people and we’ll talk tomorrow.
Self: Awesome!... I am so excited!
Gloria: Me too… WOOO!

And that is how it all began.

Suffice it to say, the Fredonia is an older hotel. Nacogdoches is the oldest town in Texas, and the Fredonia isn’t much younger. But… BUT… the staff there is lovely, they have a bar downstairs that I have spent (back in my youth) many a night drinking with friends, the rooms are spacious, they have the nice executive floor with all of the amenities and it is right smack downtown. (Not that it is tough to get anywhere in Nac, it is just nice to be within walking distance of the police department. (The same police department I used to steal my ex-husband’s Jeep from when he was on duty.))

So the next day, after I talked to Glo, I looked online and got the hotel’s weekend getaway package information. The one that I was particularly interested in was the “Stay and Play” weekend. It included a room night and the greens and cart fees to play golf at the Piney Woods Golf Club which is a private course. Gloria thought that the guys could play a round of golf while we set up the surprise.

We worked out the details and the list of people who could come grew to a pretty nice sized group. That is why I was so excited to pull into the hotel on Saturday. When Mister and I pulled up, we were the first ones there. We got situated in our room and then J.Wo called me.
J.Wo: I’m here at Jay and Brenna’s. Are we all going to dinner? Oh, and Glo and D’ got a later start than what they planned.
Self: How late?
J.Wo: Well they should be here around 7 o’clock.
Self: Cool. Ok, where should we go to dinner?
Brenna: [in the background] How about Clear Springs?
J.Wo: She said-
Self: Clear Springs, I heard her… That is a great choice for Mister. His one request was for this not to be a weekend of eating Mexican food.
J.Wo: But we’re in Nacogdoches!
Self: I know honey. You should have seen his face fall as we were driving in and he counted eleventy Mexican restaurants before we even got to the college.
J.Wo: Heh… Ok, so do you want me to call Glo and let her know the plan?
Self: I will..
J.Wo: D’ still doesn’t know ya’ll are coming.
Self: Sweet.

So I called Gloria.
Self: GlooooooooooRia! G-L-O-R-I-A… Gloooo-
Gloria: Oh, hey… how are you?
Self: Doing well, I hear that you guys got a later start than you planned.
Gloria: Oh, we’re doing fine. We are actually on our way to Nacogdoches.
Self: No shit. Ok, ok, I’ll play along so he won’t know we’re here.
Gloria: Yes, it is very exciting.
Self: I Looooooove yooooooouuuuuuuu!
Gloria: We’re going to hang out a Jay and Brenna’s… I think we’re going to do a Bar-B-Que or something.
Self: Heh. Ok, we are planning dinner at Clear Springs for 7 o’clock. Do you think you guys are going to be able to make it?
Gloria: Um, no, I am not sure that Livingston is where…
Self: Ok, ok… how far outside Houston are you? One hour? Two hours? Thirty Minutes? Just say one two or three.
Gloria: Three, and it was really great to talk to you too! Bye!

Oh y’all know she wanted to kick my ass.

We kept skooching the time for dinner back (as Mister was getting hungry and surly) until we decided on 7:45.

They got to the hotel at like 7 o’clock on the nose and while D’ was parking the car and Glo was checking in she called me and said that D’ had to take a shower so give them 20 minutes and then come to the room to surprise him.

We went to their room and knocked. You could hear Glo, “I have to pee!” And the bathroom door slam so D’Wayne would have to answer the door. Mister and I hid on either side of it so D’ couldn’t see us through the peep hole.

He opened the door and I swung around and all casual like said, “Hey man, wanna go to dinner?”

His face was a mixture of pure confusion and, honestly? A little bit of terror. Heh. Glo came out of the bathroom and was singing, “Surprise!” and I hugged him and Mister hugged him and we waited for him to catch up to what was going on.

Gloria was alllll smiles as we went to dinner and D’ kept playfully patting her on the ass and calling her a liar. She had told him that Mister and I wanted to come but that we couldn’t make it after all.

Dinner was fun, it was basically the girls and Mister and D’. A small ya-ya tour. We (the girls) were all being totally inappropriate, eating off of each other’s plates, discussing boobs, putting on lipstick at the table (WHORES!) and calling our waitress Pipi.

We then went to meet Jay at the bar back at the hotel. Jay was just getting off work and we stayed up drinking and smoking at the bar until last call. Um, may I just mention that last call in Nacogdoches on a Friday night is at midnight?

We all hugged and kissed and promised to see each other the next day. Being able to say that was wonderful to me.

The guys were going to be dragging because D’Wayne, Mister and Jay had a tee-time at the country club at 8 o’clock the next morning.

Lord, I am long winded.

To be continued… again.

*myself say
**in my own damn dream

February 13, 2006

Weekend With Friends in Nac Part III

Normal thing my Daddy says:
Self: Hey Daddy-O, how did you sleep last night?
Daddy: Slept fast baby. Slept. Fast.

Which for those of you who do not speak Daddyease means that the night went by very quickly. Sort of how I feel like this past weekend went. But it just doesn’t sound the same…

Random Person: Hey Susan, how was your weekend?
Self: Slept fast… er I mean it was filled completely and felt like it flew by except for those portions of it that were very busy and all I wanted to do was to throw on the breaks, holler ‘Hold up a dayum minute!’ like Yosemite Sam and just take a freakin nap already because Lord!... Ti-yurd. Coincidentally, or not really a coincidence at all, I used to think Yosemite was pronounced Yo-seh-mite as opposed to Yo-seh-meh-tee.

Yeah, hooked on phonics can really screw with a person, no?

And why is it every time I hear a blasted Jack Johnson song I see Ben Stiller’s mug front and center in my noggin? Huh? HUH?! I asked you a Question Missy!

[::snap :: snap::]

Huh? What? Oh.

Yeah, Hi there. I was supposed to be telling y’all about the Nacogdoches weekend correct? Part three? Judas Priest in frilly panties, this thing has gotten out of hand. But, but… I really want to finish because memories are fading and I wanted to keep them forever like a little Coach bag that always seems so new and shiny when I polish it with the moisturizing cream. Uh, I think I’ve gone off topic again.


Yes, Nacogdoches.

Ok, we were going to bed at about midnight or one am on Friday night when I finished up last time.

Saturday morning never seemed like it would get there. I was up all night with the jittery shakes of a junkie coming off of meth. Those damn two Dr. Peppers did a number on me and when I quit it with the talky-speaky and just tried to lay there… in the dark… in a one room hotel room… without lights… and the only sound was the old ass heater/air conditioning unit that sounded like it was all phlegm-y and I should have been calling it Doc Holiday… it was a tough five or six hours.

I could have gotten up and gone into the commons room to read or watch television or something but then I would have had to find clothes and more importantly a bra. And as I mentioned… it was dark n shit. And I refused to wake up my husband from a sound sleep just so I wouldn’t have to leave the room with my girls unfettered.

So lay there, I did. I slept fitfully for a few minutes at a time so I wasn’t totally crazy by the time Mister’s alarm went off at six and he got up and put on three layers of clothes. It was 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1.1 degree Celsius) Saturday morning and they were going out to play golf. Do I know how to throw a great party or what? Hey guys… golf! And freeze to death, while trying to avoid hitting the deer with the golf carts on the greens. Par-tay!

That morning Brenna and Jay’s oldest child was cheering for a basketball game within a block from where the hotel was so I was planning on joining J.Wo, Brenna and her two children as soon as I woke Gloria up. She had threatened me with death if I called her when the guys left (at Dawn’s ass crack) so I didn’t. I waited until she would have about 15 minutes to get up and get dressed for us to get there on time.

I ate breakfast at the nice little Continental spread they had set up. Yummy fruit, muffins, cereal and juice. And I waited for Glo to wake up. I watched Animal Planet and the Weather Channel and made a list for going to Wal*Mart later.

I finally called her at like 9:20 and asked her if she wanted to go. “If so, get the hell up because we have to be there at 9:45.”

She paused and said, “The game started at 8:45 Sue.” “It did not, oh shit… I’ll call J.Wo to see.”

I called J.Wo and sure enough, the game was over half way through. So we made plans for lunch.

Lisa (LuLu) and her husband (of the grand nostrils) Tim called and asked us to wait for them to get there before we went to lunch. She said that they would be at the hotel at noon. I called Jen and cleared it with them and then called the boys on the golf course and let Mister know:
Self: Hey baby!
Mister: Hey honey.
Self: How is it going out there… are you still freezing your tail off?
Mister: It is going great and no, I warmed up and shed a few layers.
Self: What hole are y’all on? I don’t want to keep you long but I wanted to see if y’all would be able to meet us for lunch so Tim and LuLu can surprise D’.
Mister: We’re on the 9th hole. I am not sure how quick the last 9 holes will go but I’ll call you in a little bit.
Self: Ok, let them know we want to meet for lunch at Chili’s but don’t tell D’ that Tim and LuLu are here… or will be here around noonish.
Mister: Will do. Love you, bye.

So Tim and LuLu pulled into Nacogdoches exactly at noon. J.Wo, Brenna and her two little precious girls and I were waiting in the commons area on the 6th floor when they came in.

Y’all? It was so good to see LuLu. To hug my friend meant so much to me.

We took a few pictures and then headed to Chili’s to meet the guys for lunch. We got a great table outside and the sun was shining and it was 70 F (21.1 C) something degrees and gorgeous. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day… or a more personable waitress… her name was Zee.

Zee got us all situated with drinks and chips and salsa. What did I order to drink you ask? Oh, a Dr. Pepper because Saturday night was slated to be the late night and I hadn’t slept well in oh, say 3 or four nights prior… what was one more?

The boys pulled up and Tim and LuLu went to the bottom part of the patio and when D’Wayne walked in they walked up all casual, “Hey man, want to have lunch?” Heh.

The lunch was a two and a half hour ordeal that was awesome. We took pictures and smoked and laughed and made plans for the evening. We were only expecting one more couple to come in and that was D’Wayne’s best friend and co-worker Ron and his wife Olga. D’Wayne didn’t know that they were coming so we were trying to facilitate a surprise. We made it back to the hotel and Gloria asked D’ to play a song from a cd he purchased for her that morning and while he was messing with the cd, Ron and Olga pulled into the parking lot.

Whew. All surprises met and accounted for.

Then Mister, D’ and Glo headed upstairs to nap and Tim headed up to study for one of his frillion classes. Do y’all remember the Hedley’s from the “Hey Mon!” skit on In Living Color? They were a Jamaican family that held like 14 jobs each. That is who Tim reminds me of, “You got only seven jobs? You lazy pig dog… why you could get another job on the way to your fifth job…” Anyway, Tim has like 3 full time jobs, he is going back to school and he is also teaching a few classes. Lazy bastard. Idle hands are the devil’s playground my man.

So they all went to do that, J.Wo, Jay and Brenna went to go nap or something too and LuLu and I headed to the Wal*Mart.

Ok. Let me give you guys a little back story about this particular Wal*Mart. I’m still emotionally scarred because I spent so much time at this place that I will hardly go into a Wal*Mart now unless you drag me forcibly. It was basically the hub of Nacogdoches’ existence because where else could you get a pallet of sod, your tires changed, seven avocado’s, a flirty little knit top and a pack of 12 men’s tube socks? A virtual one stop shop for the busy East Texan.


Anway, I needed the following items: ear plugs (see above comment on air conditioning/heater unit in hotel room with tuberculosis), FeBreeze™ clothing spray (I wanted to be able to pack my suitcase without it smelling like a stale ashtray), AA batteries for Gloria’s camera, lighter fluid for new lighter and maybe some make up to make us feel pretty.

We walked in and I immediately started having a panic attack. The smell was kickin… fertilizer, cedar shavings, tire and eau de desperate (also known as Mac n’ Cheese). I was sweating and extremely nervous and we walked by the announcer lady to hear [click] “Excuse me Wals*Mart shoppers, if you are driving a white Bruick, licence number &63Arra*&?... it will be towed ‘meediately.” (Y’all I tried to spell how she said Buick, but I don’t think they have made keys or characters on my keyboard for that pronunciation yet.)

Regardless, I was starting to worry that I may shit my drawers. One from laughing at the language barrier and two because, Oh Holy shit… y’all… if I was going to run into anyone from my past? I would be at the Wals*Mart.

I was sweating. Did I mention the beautiful day outside? I was not hot inside the hellhole Wal*Mart… but all the same my hair was wet around my hair line. I was breathing all fast and I was convinced that any moment someone was going to pop out from behind an end cap and demand that I return to the double-wide trailer immediately. Or meediately as the announcer lady would have said.

LuLu tried to keep it light, laughing at this and that. Bringing up positive memories, trying to assure me that no one would recognize me. I had my hair up and I was wearing my glasses that I didn’t start wearing until 2002 or 2003. Oh, and I had packed on the extra weight for winter. Fuck, if bears can do it… so can I.

Finally we got out of there and headed to the Sonic for Strawberry Limeades and then we went to visit LuLu’s cousin Greg. Lord, that made me feel old. We pulled up to this house that had about 7 cars in the driveway and an Aztec like shrine of empty beer cases in the living room. It was like 4 or 4:30 pm and they (Greg and his frat brothers and friends) had already started drinking. Yes, they are 21 or so and we are all old ass fogies. But still. All these kids laying around the living room watching “Something About Mary” like a pile of puppies. Everyone smiling at the two old broads that came to check out their cousin’s crib.

Did I just say crib?

Move along.

So we went back and got dressed because we had to leave at like 6:45 to pick up the rest of the crew for dinner reservations at Casa Thomas. Heh, Casa Thomas. This particular place is within stone’s throw from mine and LuLu’s old dorm rooms and Gloria and J.Wo’s old apartments. Quite the fancy restaurant… Heh… sure.

Regardless, I walked in and this waiter was making his way through the thirteen or so of us that met for dinner. And that’s when I came face to face with Chip. Chip… a career waiter in Nacogdoches. He looked right at me and then walked past me with a polite, “Scuse’ me”. I pulled LuLu aside and asked her, “Is that [points] Chip… that old bartender from Blank & Company downtown?” LuLu looked at Chip, nodded and responded with and elegant, “Oh holy sheeeit.”

He didn’t recognize me. Although the only time I have seen him and not been an unforgettable customer was when I was 19 or so and I was working as a hostess at this place downtown (Blank & Co) that had stairs. Stairs. My ass was hard as a rock from running stairs all night. And now? I am 33 and my ass is far from rock hard, and hardly looking like that of a nineteen year olds’ posterior.

We had a wonderful dinner. We were set at a long thin table and the din of noise was so loud and garbled from other tables that I could really hear only those immediate 4 or 5 people around me. Halfway through dinner D’Wayne hollered, “Sue? Can I use your phone?” I nodded and passed it to him… he looked at it and said, “Something is wrong, I must have pushed a wrong button.” I took the phone from him and looked at it. Eight missed calls.

Eight? We’ve only been sitting here for about 25 minutes.

I pushed the key for voicemail and I heard:
Jay: Well, Sue Mamma, I can’t hear you or talk to you during dinner so I am leaving you a message.
Jay: You never call, you never write, I miss you Sue Mamma! Miss youuuuuuuu!
Brenna: Hey Sue Mamma, I just wanted to say hey and that I hope y’all are enjoying your meal at the other end of the table!
Olga: Hi Sue, this is Olga, I am just sitting one person away from you … hope we have fun tonight!
Gloria: Sue, you hot mamma, you know you’re a good looking woman and your nipples get hard when you think of me.
Jay: Dammit Sue, your food is getting cold!
J.Wo: Heee Heee Heee! Blah blah… (it was too loud at this time with all the laughter and I was telling the rest of the table that they were assholes and I couldn’t hear what J.Wo was saying.)
Kim: Hi Susan, you don’t know me, I am on the other end of the restaurant from you and Jay wanted me to call and say hello.

Jay had some random person leave me a message. Gotta love him. Actually the other day I got Googled for “Jay Knott” so I told him he was famous and people were trying to find him on my site. He was all, “Your site??? Can I Google myself and find you?” Sure can babe, sure can.

Y’all? I have got to finish this at another time… This is like six pages and I haven’t even gotten to the Jitterbugs part.

Much love and long reading,

February 16, 2006

Weekend With Friends in Nac Part IV

Holy Crap! It’s Thursday already?

Well, this time two weeks (and 14 pages) ago I was all anxious about not having packed yet for our little trip into East Texas. And I still haven’t finished the damn recap.

Ok, to bring you up to speed, parts one, two and three are…
Here: Part I
Here: Part II
Here: Part III

And my brain is… here. and also stuck looping the song “Secretly” by Skunk Anansie off of the Cruel Intentions soundtrack.


So, where were we? Ah yes, eight messages on my phone during dinner right? Right.

So we ate, drank, smoked and all was merry. Dinner was about two hours so we started rounding up checks and coats and spouses around 9 o’clock or so, to head to the bar.

The bar I speak of is one I have mentioned before.

Once or twice.

Jitterbugs, a place that my little rowdy group of friends practically lived at when their doors were open (from Wednesday to Saturday, College night on Thursday) when we were in college. The owners all knew us by name and the girls in the crew were allowed to go upstairs to the offices to pee as opposed to using the crowded cat-fight bathrooms on the main floor.

Hell, D’Wayne worked the door for two years at least.

It was our bad-bar (tm Weetabix). People got tore up, dancing was mandatory, gallons of sweat were earned on the hardwood floor, friendships were made, relationships were lost, millions of cigarettes were smoked, bottles were broken and used as weapons*, it was the launching place for the midnight riders (usually naked) and a good time was had by all.

The thing that I was looking the most forward to; second to seeing my friends and kissing their faces; was going to Jitterbugs. I wanted to make some new memories there that included Mister and that did not include the phrase, “Happy New Year!!!!...” [look over to see husband (at the time) open mouth kissing another woman… well at least he wasn’t having his way with her right there**.] “Welllllll, fuck.”

I knew that we would all have a great time. I wanted to dance with my friends and Mister and D’Wayne, but I was very concerned about the recognizability factor. And that is so a word… shut it. The recognizability factor greatly increases when person, animal and toile plates; for example; are in their natural setting.

I would notice a cheetah or say a water buffalo quicker on the plains of the Serengeti than say, in an Eddie Bauer store. I would notice a toile plate in my mother’s china cabinet or on a plate stand in her dining room quicker than I would notice one say serving a giant sloppy joe to a hungry OTR traveler at Rip Griffin’s truck stop. Same with me stepping a coquettishly shod boot into the front door of Jitterbugs, someone was bound to notice. It was my preferred natural setting while I lived there. Well, there or at the aptly named Sports Shack on North Street for happy hour… every freaking day.

So I got a bit nervous when Tim and LuLu’s suburban came to a halt and Jay and I quickly stopped with the chitlin jokes*** and we all got out of the truck, made sure we had our IDs and money and lipsticks and cameras ready and started toward the front door.

I let the rest of the pack go ahead and I hung back, hiding behind my very large husband.

We all got our IDs swiped and bought a “membership” to the bar, meaning that Nacogdoches county is partly dry and you have to buy a “membership” or pay a cover to drink hard liquor.

While the tiny little thing in jeans so low I could see her pubis printed out our receipts I felt someone looking at me. I burrowed deeper into Mister’s armpit and stole a glance at the person that was trying to figure out who I was.

Oh, no big deal, it was the son of the ex-sheriff who used to work with my ex-brother in law.

Warning, DANGER, DANGER Will Robinson, DANGER!

Jay told me on the way over to the bar (between chitlin jokes) that his neighbor had invited us over for later. He was having a party and wanted us to come over after we left the bar.

Just a bit of back story so I won’t loose anyone new, my ex-husband (cleverly named X in this here journal) was a police officer in Nacogdoches. Since I left, he’s been promoted to detective. (I wonder if he can detect the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground by now.)

Jay’s neighbor, let’s call him… oh, say, Eric, was having a party and Eric happens to be a cop. Jay told Eric, “Hey man, I have X’s ex-wife in town, I am sure she’s not going to want to come over and hang out with a bunch of cops.” Eric replied, “Shit Jay, have her come on by, none of us like (my X’s last name) anyway.”

I am sure my eyes were HUGE when Jay was telling me this, and Jay loves to pull my chain so I am sure he was really enjoying the reaction.

I had narrowly escaped going to a party that evening after the bar. A house full of cops. But yet I run right into a deputy sheriff (who knows if he still is in that profession or not) as soon as I walk into the door of Jitterbugs.


I got my little wristbandy thing that let people know I was over 21 and could legally drink (HA HA HA HA ha hah heh he… ahem sorry.) and I scuttled into the bar fast. Who knew I could scuttle? I passed Mister and J.Wo and Jay and Glo and I stopped and just turned in a circle looking for a place to hide. Well, hell, Dierks Bentley was in town over at the Expo Center and the bar was deserted. It was only 9 pm and his concert wouldn’t end for a few hours.

I must have been twirling around (fast – like cheetah – so no one will recognize the whirling dervish… see? S-M-R-T.) because Mister walked over and asked if I had brought any of my anxiety medication with me. Negatory big guy. And then he said the words I will always love him for, “Here is your drink, let me light you a smoke.”

Then Jay walked over and said, “Hey Sue Mamma… you’ve been made by (blah dee blah (a local Judge’s son)).” “Fuck. Really?” “Yeah, he said hi.”

I blew that one off because the snitch that I was worried about, the guy at the front door, would have probably already called X on the bat phone and told him I was in town.

Mister suggested that I take off my glasses. I wouldn’t be able to see anyone, so I did and the anxiety over who was there and who was going to spoil my night or bring drama was reduced… GREATLY. In all the pictures I am Squinty McTinyEye but I am smiling like a loon.

We had a great time, everyone danced, I got to dance with D’Wayne (a waltz Trixie, eat your heart out) and things were so relaxed and calm, I forgot where we were for most of the night. It was just a big place with loud ass music and my friends.


*Oh Lord, no… not by me. I don’t get into that redneck girl fighting girl thing.
**It is the little things that I’m most thankful for… really. ::snort::
***Yeah, we stopped… for about seven minutes. Jay and I have been beating this dead horse (quick, give me a stick) of a joke for seriously for over fifteen years. It all started at a restaurant in Jasper, TX. I pulled something foreign out of my meal and we dubbed it Sir Chitlin, “Nasty little suckers, but their coats are worth a fortune.” And every movie, book, television show or celebrity since the 1950’s has been subject to a chitlin joke. Leave it to Beaver became Leave it to Chitlin, Sir Mix-a-Lot became Sir Mix-a-Chitlin, St. Elmo’s Fire became St. Elmo’s Chitlin, Sixteen Candles became Sixteen Chitlins… y’all get it. For extra credit let’s see if someone can leave one in the comments section that we haven’t exploited yet.

February 20, 2006

Three Year Anniversary

Three years. I have been writing stories and bits of mundane life minutiae in this journal for three years. THREE Years… today actually.

Happy blogiversary* to meeeeeeeeeeeeee!

What kind of story or list or meme is worthy of being posted today? Well, considering the fact that I am completely okay with typing random tidbits any other day of the week… what makes me think that today should be special?

Three years. That is why.

I have, at times, gone back and looked at my old posts, for narcissistic self-linking mainly, and because sometimes I am just too damn lazy to explain myself. (Oy! with the over explaining already.) And may I say that there are some real classics amidst the slurry of self-deprecating** crap. But I have yet to figure out a formula for what makes a journal entry a good one.

For those of you who didn’t know, I don’t normally keep a pad of paper in my purse or on my person to write down random things that may make a good entry. I have done so in the past and the two or three entries that have come of the small jots that said “99.5 The Wolf” and something like “closet full of memories” have been some of the most commented on entries.

Normally I just open an empty Microsoft Word document and start hammering away at the keyboard. I hardly ever Spell Check and for that I apologize to those of you whom my raping of the AP grammar rules make your teeth itch. I just feel that if I am going to open my brain and pour its contents onto a page and then fling it into Cyber Space, that those words should be how they were written originally.

There have been two series entries in my short little history. One about a trip to Baton Rouge and the other just finished about the trip to Nacogdoches. I have submitted an entry or two for the Story Crossing blog and I have gleefully posted links to things that take up residence in my brain… and I want you to share. Like this nugget of wonderfulness.

The entries that make Stacey laugh are totally different from the ones that make Jules and Anne laugh. Mister? Hardly ever reads my site, even if I tell him that I have written about him… in great length and detail. And? He doesn’t think I am funny. Yeah, I know. It blows my mind too.

On MTV they had a commercial of Meet the Barkers where Shanna is letting Travis read her draft of what she thinks is hysterical material. He is all, “Oh, this is supposed to be funny?” Honey? I so feel you, call me. We’ll do lunch.

There are several pages that are visited more than others… the Links page, the Older or Archives page and the Cast page are the three top visited pages. Three others that aren’t listed in my menu are these three:
#1 Most visited page. Although I am totally convinced that it has to do with Googlers searching the term “breast piercing” or “grandma boob”. Seriously. I’m like number 7 on the search criterion or something. Sorry Googlers.
#2 Second most visited page. And this one? I am pretty sure it is the Dave Navarro / Google love.
#3 Third most popular page. No clue. Really. But I am certain it has to do with Google.

I have a few entries that have been commented on more than the others...
#1 Most comments… I think. I think it is because this is the first time I started putting pictures in my journal entries. Who knows.
#2 Second most comments.
#3 Third most comments. Well, this one is really tied with like six others (like this one and like this one ), but it makes Stacey laugh, so I thought I would include it.

I really wanted to use this time to tie up any lose ends and to answer any questions that any of you have. When I called Mister to set up our lunch date (mmm Subway… how fancy!) I told him that today was my 3rd year journal anniversary and asked him what I should do for the special occasion. He suggested an update of sorts… almost a review of the past three years. But alas, I am lazy and have no idea what has really occurred in the past three years or the desire to go through my archives and read about everything.

So I will, once again, rely on you, Kind Reader, to help me celebrate this milestone. I would like to open the floor for questions about things I haven’t followed up on. For example: “Are the two of you going to have children already? For the love of Pete!” I will go ahead and answer that one now. No one in our house is pregnant and I live with Mister and a neutered cat. So that answers that… right?

I will update when questions come in and answers are typed. Mister has also put himself on the chopping block and has agreed to answer questions you may have for him as well.

*I threw up a little in my mouth when I typed blogiversary.
**Oh, the irony.

February 21, 2006

Kick His Ass Sea Bass!

My little feets are cold. This rainy, cold stuff is crazy, especially since it was 85 degrees last week. Texas is the ultimate schizophrenic when it comes to weather. “Hi, I’m Texas… I am a Rubenesque state and I have coastlines and mountains and desserts… I’m HOT… no wait… I’m Cold! I’m rainy… and droughty… woo. Have some ice suck-ah! Hmmm, I’m feeling a little warmish. Are you going to eat that Twinkie?”

That’s right. I made Texas a fat, PMS’ing flighty bitch who wants your Twinkie. Do not tempt me, I’ll do it again.

So, yeah… the massive amounts of comments and emails that I received following yesterday’s post have almost completely filled up the eleventy gigs that I had set aside for it in my Inbox. I’ll get to the questions and emails and comments as soon as I can dig my way out.

Also… the sarcasm? Can you smell it?

And… The reason for this post… to knock down the place holder yesterday’s entry turned out to be. And uh… yeah, about that baby. I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that. It was never my intention to make you cry. Please forgive me?

From now on, nothing but stories.

Actually, I have one for you about what happened last night.

Noooo, it isn’t a plaintive wail begging for people search through the archives and help me tie up lose ends.

I promise.

Let me walk you through the evening sweetness. I will be gentle, really.

Here is a little bit of back story, not much, just a little bit… so I can give a recipe. Over the weekend Mister and I had a blast. We ran some errands, went to the mall (for M*A*C studio fix for me and to pick up our alterations – more on the alterations later) and then decided to be foodies for a day.

We have several places to shop in the immediate area but we chose Central Market for their incredible selections of… well, everything really. We were planning on making raisin/walnut muffins for our breakfast and wanted to use all organic produce and products like soy flour and whole wheat stuff and all things that speak to my hippy side like the cool breeze across a meadow in bloom.

We also decided to get a nice piece of fish that wasn’t all… fishy to have for dinner. So we picked a nice chunk (mmmm doesn’t that sound appetizing? A CHUNK of fish!) of Chilean Sea Bass to bake. I was talking to one of those foodie guys that have on the professional apron and the professional Garth Brooks microphone to ask to him about preparing our chunk o’ fish. He was very condescending and rude, but then I tasted the salmon marinated in plum sauce that he was hawking and I quickly shut the fuck up because, Dude. Dude. That? Was awesome. And after I quit licking the little plastic spoon and realized that he was looking at me with a scowl, I asked him about the sea bass.

The guy was all, “The rule for fish is” (and yeah, he spoke in italics like that) “is for you to bake it at 400 degrees for 11 minutes for every inch of thickness.”

Good to know guy, good to know.

So I asked him about a marinade as my eyes darted to the salmon in plum sauce. He was all flippant, waving his little arms around as he spoke. (Did I mention that he was up-lighted? Up-lighted, like with a light below him? As if he was some sort of artifact from Tanzania on display at the MET.) He mentioned several things and then stopped like, “You mere mortal, you are not writing my words of wisdom down? You are not shedding your common blood as to use your cheap leather jacket and a leg of your ugly glasses to write my pearls of wisdom down?!?!” Heh.

I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote the following:
400 degrees
11 minutes per inch
Grape seed oil (as it is tasteless)
Sesame oil

We had them cut the fish in half and the fish guy (not the foodie) told me to leave the bones to give the fish a bit of structure while it was baking. He then went on to tell me that Chilean Sea Bass is the major ingredient of cat food in Chile. “They don’t eat it in Chile, but it has become very upper crust here.”

Dude… Cat food? Thanks, nice way to make a very expensive purchase look like shit on ice.

Mister and I ran screaming from the fish guy and ran smack into the cheese monger. We asked that he select two cheeses for Mister and me and our weird taste range. Me: mild cheeses… will eat stinky cheese, but Good Lord! Not that stinky! Mister: Sharp. Loves Asiago and the like, smoked Gouda a fav… must never be stinky. The cheese monger took those freakishly lowbrow suggestions and picked out the most incredible cheeses. Love him! I may have made out with him a little bit.

We picked up some lovely crackers and some thinly cut German salami, some almond roasted green beans with garlic and some corn … chowder? Stuff… anyway, the green beans and corn were for our sides to go along with the fish. The cheese, crackers and salami was for happy hour… during the baking of the fish and the muffins.

We headed home and started working on our fish. We oiled the tinfoil with grapeseed oil and massaged a little into the sea bass, set the sea bass on its end (skin down), then we marinated it with sesame oil, soy and lemon juice (just a bit) and then put fresh ground white pepper and sea salt on the top and sides. We popped that bad boy into the oven at 400 degrees and set the timer for 22 minutes. If we erred, we wanted to err on the side of not baking (thus drying) the hell out of it.

The aroma that wafted through our house was divine. The fish smelled wonderful, not fishy, just very peanut-y… Asian. And the walnut/raisin/carrot/apple (we got a little carried away with the ingredients) smelled like heaven.

Over all it was a great weekend for food and the like.

So last night Mister and I decided to have the other half of the sea bass. This time we switched out lemon juice for orange juice and poked fine holes in the flesh as to aid in the absorption of the soy, the sesame oil and the orange juice. We added a little more white pepper and sea salt than we did the first time, and boy howdy, that was divine!

The cat was all up under us during the whole cooking session, “I want some. I want some… hey, what about me? Don’t I get some? What about that little piece right there? No? Bitches.”

So if you ever are in the mood for Chilean Sea Bass… follow that recipe. You won’t be sorry.

We finished our meal and cleaned up and I popped in my latest Netflix, Lost in Translation, and Mister went to his office to go work on other stuff (::cough:resumes:cough::). We went to bed pretty late and I was all cranky. I thought a fresh pillow case would soothe me (Ok, ok, Alright! Enough with the Princess and the Pea jokes) so I went to the linen closet, opened the door, found what I needed, shut the door and went back to the bedroom to lie down.

Mister and I had not been in bed for more than five minutes when the cat started up with his, “Hey, hey… hey, where are ya’ll?” Mister was convinced it was because we were talking and laughing softly and we thought that Max could hear us but didn’t know we had gone to bed. So Mister did his low, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” To tell Max to shut the hell up already. Max was quiet… for about ten minutes. Then he started in again, “Hellooooo? Are you guys awake? Where are you? What’s going on? I am still pissed that ya’ll didn’t share your fish.”

So Mister got up… naked… grabbed his MagLite™ from the window sill and went to go find out why in the hell the cat would not shut up. He headed downstairs and I could hear him calling for Max, “Max? Hey. Maaaax?” He came back upstairs and shut the door to the bedroom so we wouldn’t hear the cat if he continued to call us. He never found Max downstairs so he couldn’t verify if the cat was just feeling a little talky or if he was trying to tell a cat on the outside to get the hell off of his lawn.

This morning 6:something am came early and I stumbled out of bed to go tinkle. As soon as I left the bathroom I could hear the cat, “Hello. Hi. Yeah, you. Hellooo?” I thought he needed some more food so I headed down the stairs to go to the kitchen to feed him. As I went into the dining room the meowing I had been hearing became fainter as opposed to louder the closer I went to his food dish.

Hmmm, interesting.

So I turned around and headed back up stairs. I called for Max, “KittykittykittykitttEEE?” And I heard him meow. I knew he was upstairs, I just didn’t know where. I looked in the den… no Max. I went to the guest bedroom… and called him again, “Heeere Kittykittykitteeeeeeee.” And I heard this meow that sounded like it was coming from within one of the walls. My first thought was, “Oh shit.” And my second though was, “Turn around and open the linen closet stupid.”

So I turned around and opened the linen closet and out popped this little meowing boy that was so thankful that someone had rescued him. “Rrrrrooooowwww?? Merrrrrrooooow? Meeee? RRRRR::purrrrrrrrr puurrrrrrrrr:: Mrrrrreowww?” He was all dusty because the shoe rack on the bottom of the linen closet has never been used to my knowledge and I realized that he had been trapped in the closet with the one thing he fears above all others… the vacuum cleaner.

I dusted off his butt and scratched his ears and asked him about his night. He mrroowed a bit more and purred a bunch more. He only got a bit hacked off and nipped at me when I started referring to him as R. Kelly.

February 23, 2006

Brian? Shut up and eat.

Hi. How are you today? Really? You slept well and feel rested and content? Well, that is fantastic.

Here... let me share my hot chocolate with you. I know, I KNOW. This damp chilly weather shit is for the birds. If the said bird in question happens to be a penguin of course.

Yanno, I was thinking about you yesterday and into last night. I was hoping that you are doing well. I hope that things in your life are totally rocking along smoothly. That your job or job prospects are fulfilling and that someone out there is at least telling you, "Thank you" on a pretty constant basis for your contribution to the company or for just making their lives a little easier. I hope that you are fed well and that your body is feeling nourished and loved.

Yeah, I know... I need to exercise. We all need to move. I just want to dance but shaking my ass at company functions is sort of frowned upon. I will though, I will... I'll start getting some motion and exercise in the next few months and continue forever because dayum... have you seen the size of my ass?

Well, that is not all I have been thinking about.

No, no... it isn't anything bad or twisted. Or even snarky.

I've been thinking about my mother. Yeah, she is sweet. And I have been thinking about an old friend of mine, Brian.

While my mother was living in Dallas (before they moved to Denver in '92) she used to set up the ironing board in the kitchen, right outside the door to the laundry room. The kitchen had a built in china cabinet with glass doors on the top, a shelf in the middle and wooden doors on the bottom to hide stuff like her platters, her fondue pot and all of the paper napkins she hoarded.

On the little shelf in between the top and the bottom of the cabinet my mother had a tiny black and white TV and almost sixty framed photographs.

She called this her Spray and Pray corner. She would set up the ironing board and iron the clothes of her family while praying for the people in the photographs... friends, family and the like. My mother is beautiful, old fashioned and has a degree in Home Economics. She irons pillow cases, handkerchiefs and my father's undershirts. So she had plenty of time to pray for those she loved while ironing.

I had a friend, Brian that lived one door down from me while we were growing up. He was a very intelligent and well mannered boy. We met a few days after our family moved in, he came to the house and introduced himself and we became instant friends. We were always together and started calling each other Bro and Sis by the time we were in the seventh grade. We would walk home from school, go to his house and have green beans and popcorn and settle in to watch the Thunder Cats with both of us sitting in the same chair.

Click to make all pictures bigger. Thank you.

Brian and Susan 1985
Yes, yes... I was wearing leg warmers and my thighs are the size of a pencil. But, aren't we cute otherwise? I am sure my mother was asking us to throw snow for an action shot. She normally asks people to run at her for full dramatic effect. "Run at me! Run at me!"

We went to the same church so it was very comfortable to see one another just about every single day.

When his parents were working late, he would have dinner at our house and being a very gregarious young man he would talk, and talk, and talk. Sometime during most of these dinners my father would turn to Brian and say in the most loving way, "Brian? Shut up and eat."

One day Brian asked my mother what all those pictures were for and she explained to him about the concept behind her spray and pray corner.

The next day, after school Brian asked for me to go on to my house and he would be down in just a bit. When Brian got to the house he handed my mother a tiny little inch and a half high picture frame with his photo inside and said, "Would you add this to your spray and pray corner? I need all the help I can get."

Brian and Susan 1986
Brian's mom took this picture when we went to a Baylor football game one weekend. Their mascot, a bear, drinks Dr. Pepper. "Thanks for that totally random fact Sue." My pleasure.

Looking so much alike the two of us were usually mistaken for true siblings ... and? We acted like it. He fostered my love for all things Steve Martin and the movies Airplane, Kentucky Fried Movie and even Bob and Doug McKenzie in Strange Brew. We were in choir together from sixth grade until we graduated high school in 1990.

Brian and Susan 1990
This is the last day of school in 1990, we were graduating. This picture was taken in the choir room.

He went on to Baylor University and grew into a very intelligent and well mannered man. He ran a radio show that spotlighted his love for Classic Rock and his beautiful deep bass voice and the talking? This time he got paid for it.

Brian and Susan 1991
Brian came to my college one weekend to take me to a dance. Awwwwwww.

When our family went to Destin (we go every other year and have since I was wee) in 1992 I asked if Brian could come. My dad replied, "Will he ever shut up?" I replied, "Probably not, but can he come anyway?" Heh. I drove to Dallas from Nacogdoches and Brian came in from Waco and we all piled into my sister's car and headed for Destin. By the time we hit Lafayette my sister was chewing a hole in her face from trying not to scream, "Shut it college boy!" at Brian. He and I talked the whole way to Destin and had a blast.

We even had more fun when we got there, as it was my 21st birthday (he had turned 21 in January) so he and I spent most of our time at a great bar down off of 95 called Fish Heads. We would drink and dance and he would protect me from creepy bikers and I would protect him from creepy bikers. Heh.

Brian, Susan and Reb 1992
That is my sister next to me. Brian and I looked so much alike, hair color... eye color. Neither one of us could shut our mouths.

Fish Heads was later closed due to a shooting. Ahem.

After he graduated he moved to Tyler and produced a new show for one of the large networks. The network moved him around from Tyler to Austin, Austin to Phoenix, OklahomaCity and recently to Austin. He is close enough that he can come see his parents (who still live in the same house) and go cheer on the Baylor basketball teams.

Brian married a beautiful woman named Jessica in September 2002. They met while teaching a Sunday School Class in Austin.

It was at his wedding that I realized that I was lonely and a month later (actually, not even three weeks) I met Mister.

So, I've been thinking about my mother and her spray and pray corner. And Brian and his praying with and marrying the woman of his dreams and that got me to thinking. This little page is sort of like my spray and pray corner. I don't iron anything but I do conquer the mighty white page and blinking cursor to post information. And I think about each one of you who come by, even if you don't say anything in the comments, notes or email. I think about you and I go to your pages (if the information is left) and I read about your lives and your talent and your everyday deals and I hope you are doing well. I thank God for those friends I have made through this little piece of web space, and I thank all of you for inviting me to share a part of your lives.

I hope your Thursday is smooth and without trials. I hope your February has been and will continue to be a milestone month for happiness and self reflection and I pray that your 2006 will continue to bring you health, grace and peace.

About February 2006

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in February 2006. They are listed from oldest to newest.

January 2006 is the previous archive.

March 2006 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

Powered by
Movable Type 3.35