Suzanna Danna

3/4/10 I am in the air somewhere, am guessing over Oklahoma. "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews band is playing through the earbuds and my iPod and I am on my way to Green Bay for the annual Weetacon. We just crossed over a particularly deserted part of the landscape and for an odd reason I felt the prick of tears threatening at the back of my eyes. The throat tightening, and the fear that I would startle the elderly woman sitting next to me if I were to burst into sobs and couldn't tell her what exactly (if anything) was wrong, were she to ask.

Happy tears? Sure. I am headed to spend four days with my chosen family, my tribe and I feel (yes, I am a sap) particularly blessed to be a part of this group. And yes, I will regale you with tales and linkity links when I get back.

But is that the only reason?

Wander lust tugging at my internal make up? Maybe. The urge to just run and start my life over (I am pretty sure that the "Lucky Penny"* post gave away a little bit of that mindset)... Yep. A few months ago I startled myself by driving North along on 75 (Central) Expressway and thinking, "What if I just kept going?". I called Mister and the exchange went like this:
Me: hi
Mister: hi back
Me: I am on 75 on the way back from the doctor and this though occurred to me...
Mister: what thought?
Me: what if I just kept going?
Mister: well, how long does it take to get to Oklahoma City?
Me: a little over three hours.
Mister: and after that?
Me: Kansas, in another three hours or so to Salinas.
Mister: so..... You'd be in Kansas by the time I got home from work.
Me: um, yes.
Mister: okay
Me: ...

So, there's that then.

Could it be just a general sense of maliase? Let's go with that.

Random, odd things are making me cry more and more lately. Ever since I dropped my basket a few months I have been delicate as a butterfly wing. And here's the fucked up part. RIGHT NOW is when I am supposed to be the strongest. Lessee.... Um, nope. Not happening.

I typed the above on my blackberry “notes” section on Thursday, last week. I was on my way to something I look forward to every year and I rend flesh and wail and gnash teeth when I don’t get to go. (See January of 2008.) It was wild, it was wonderful, it was a crazy and beautiful time. I hugged, got hugged upon, laughed, almost cried, drank A LOT, wrestled in the snow, got hit on by a 30 year old Frat Boy (the term motorboat was used… Seriously.), ate poorly, used (to the utmost ability) the restorative powers of the St. Brendan’s Bloody Mary**, not once… not twice… Okay, I can’t remember how many times exactly, but a couple of times. I slept well, I bunked with a fellow Weetacon-er well (she really doesn’t snore that loudly… I promise), I got kissed on the face and the lips more times that I can count, saw many boobs, giggled until I snorted, named a woman Bruce, wore a dress that showed more cleavage that I have EVER worn (I wore a tank top under a corset on Halloween… because I am prude… and yella), had an Out-Southerning at the Bad Bar complete with neck wobbling and “YOU NEED TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR BABIES!”, gave away shoes, bought shoes, received a pair of shoes and I promise that I will come back in the next few days (or whatever) to give you all of the details that I can.

To those of you who were there, you know who you are, you know I love you and that I can’t wait to do it all over again, and none too soon.

PS.. I am SO off my freaking game it is insane.

*Sorry this made you cry Mary. I love you.
**The St.B’s Bloody Mary has a stick of olives, a pickle, a lemon, a lime, a cheese stick and a fucking meat stick. They are certifiable meals in a schooner (with a Spotted Cow beer chaser)… FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY.

Trance Jen, "Too much rock!" fingers, Canadian smokes, St. Brennan's Inn Bloody Marys which include the following in no particular order: celery salt, vodka, tomato juice, lime, lemon, 3-olive picks, meat stick, cheese stick and a freaking PICKLE... not to mention the Spotted Cow beer chaser.

This, my friend, is a FOOD GROUP.

I am a lucky, lucky girl. Not only did I get to go to Green Bay for Weetacon*, but I also got to participate in the IGIGI Strut Your Stuff, Fashion Review (this is what I am going to call it from now on.) at the Bad Bar on Saturday night.

*I’ll do the post Weetacon wrap up entry soon baby, soon.

With a LOT of help from Weetabix and the talented designer Yuliya Raquel, ten of the lovely ladies that attended Weetacon, including yours truly, got to wear an item from IGIGI. Yes, you need to follow the links. I’ll wait.

No, seriously. I’ll be right here.

You looked? You liked? YOU LOVED, didn’t you?

Me too.

Guess what I got to wear? Go back and look… I promise, I’ll be right here. Go, look… and take a guess. You can’t decide between all of the amazing garments can you? Me neither. Okay, so I’ll tell. I got to model the Talent and Beauty Dress. Isn’t that just the most perfect thing?

Here’s a picture of it on their model.

Yes, she’s gorgeous, and has amazing curves. Stop drooling, you perv.

Let me tell you about the dress. It is in their Limited Collection and is the perfect colors of grey (or if you want to be sassy… “Pewter”) and black. The sweetheart neckline is just what the doctor ordered. For someone with a bit larger rack it would have been even more ideal. It was a bit big on the top, but absolutely fabulous on the bottom. The skirt is listed as “Tulip shaped skirt with pleats and pockets, Back vent and zip”. Did you see what they did there? Tulip shaped with POCKETS. Tulip shaping is a fancy way of saying, “I will drape your body and hide imperfections with love, baby.” And, pockets… come on, now they are just messing with me. I love pockets when they don’t take away from the line of the garment. As being a woman with hips (ps… shut up) I understand the need for curves but not, “What the hell just happened there? Oh, that is a Hot Mess.” This perfect little number pulled off the pockets with perfect design.

You can dress this puppy up or down. At the IGIGI Strut Your Stuff, Fashion Review I wore black knee high leather boots and some pretty black onyx-y earrings. At a friend’s suggestion I did my hair massively curly, but UP… with ringlets hanging down to play off the pretty flower detail at the bust. I am sure I will wear this dress with heels, with sandals, with the boots again (because I looked bad ass) and with a multitude of accessories or just bare. I am sure this piece will be a lock, stock and barrel dress in my wardrobe as it has ¾ length sleeves and in Texas could be worn year round.

I will definitely have to take it to the dry cleaners to get the Bad Bar funk out of it and to my tailor to take it up an inch or so at the shoulders because, seriously, I don’t think that showing that much décolletage at work, a funeral or at dinner anywhere (but at the Bad Bar) is appropriate.

I will be taking a picture of myself in the dress this evening when my lazy ass gets around to it to post so all of you lovelies can see. Still scouring the Flickr pages for pics of me in the dress THAT night at the Bad Bar. If you find one, you’ll know why I am going to get it taken up in the bust.

I meant to take a picture over the weekend, so here is me making a “whoops” face and trying to placate you with calling you “baby” and using Eben’s patented boyfriend voice.

But here is a picture Mister took of me in the dress yesterday evening. Yes, I am outside. Yes, the wind is ruffling through my hair that hasn’t been even trimmed since October, but DUDE… the main thing is… Lookit the freaking dress (not the cleavage) the dress, it is so comfortable and pretty. I totally need to take it to the tailor tomorrow to get it taken up so I can wear it. SO COMFORTABLE.

And to quote LadyLoo…
* FCC-licious: I was given a dress from Igigi to review. So that’s compensation, right? Ok, so I was compensated for this review. Now you know.

Good for What Ails You

The Doctor is IN.




Drink Bitch.

Every year (except one, which will remain nameless… [glaring at 2008]) I get to go to Green Bay for a reunion of sorts.

I have grown up with groups of people and reunions.

My mother and father have a group of four couples that they grew up with, and went to college with, and got married with, and had children along the same time line as, and lived in the same areas as for most of my childhood. I can remember most of the parents’ 40th birthday parties, their children’s birthday parties, Christmases spent with, vacations had with, and retreats to the lodge at Lake Lanier in Georgia with those families.

My family and extended family enjoy the company of one another and therefore spend as much time with each other as possible. Yes, we are healthy and normal. Maybe a little nuts, but perfectly happy and functional… now*.

*She said ominously, but then moved on without explanation. Oh, come on, it’s a joke.

Every other year my immediate family and a host of neighbors, extended family members, and other friends gather in Destin, FL for a week of drinking vats of Bloody Mary’s on the beach at 10 am. What? It’s tradition. You don’t fuck with tradition. We also have a shrimp and sundae night. No, they don’t go together…. TRA-DI-TION. And I quote, “You want motherfucking nuts on your ice cream?”

You have all heard about the Ya-Ya weekends and the gatherings of the Kerr Krew girls. I love you all. I do.

But the Green Bay thing is different. Am going to try and be non-schmoopie. Annnd Go.

This is a group of people whom I have chosen as an extended family and they have in turn chosen to accept me as part of their rag-tag loving family. We are a tribe. I came into Weetacon during the third year and have been going every since. Except one time… (… still glaring at 2008). And even then, the tribe included me by calling, texting, sharing photos and stories. It was almost like I was there. BUT NOT. Suffice it to say, I will (crossing fingers) never miss another one. I dig these cats. I think that it comes from mutual respect across the board and the fabulous lack of drama. Well, the liquid panty remover** doesn’t hurt either.

**Please see recipe at the bottom, courtesy of Scotty Boom Boom.

There are games, there is normally a theme, there was a fashion show, there is a charity raffle, there is a sleigh ride, there is pineapple fluff and booyah, there is laughter, there is drinking (OH the drinking), there is the required Doctor… (see below… thanks Miss Meg). I think I see a developing pattern. PS … Shut up or I will hug Jane…. Again. I got my hat stolen while on the sleigh ride by Scotty and then tackled him in the snow for retribution. PS.. Scotty did not go down. He is scrappy. Also, FAIL. There are hugs and kisses and karaoke, and SWEET CAROLINE, bah bah bah! And programs, and good food and laughter. We scheduled naps y’all. NAPS, because that is the way we motherfucking roll, yo. Also, because we are feeling the age. I get loved on and praised and people laugh at my lame ass jokes and I named a woman Bruce. I got to wear a pretty dress, show my boobs, got hit on by a dude that was WAY drunk and seriously opened with this, “Your tits are really pretty.” And then proceeded to ask if he could motorboat them. No, I am not kidding. I snaked an arm around Scotty’s waist and because he is incredibly kind and very gentlemanly he interceded. We had pantscakes at an unholy hour and I popped my karaoke cherry… kind of. Am yella. This is my tribe. We are the Pineapple Fluff Gang.

You people, you know who you are. You mean the world to me. You lift me up, you are the wind beneath my wings, you send me sparkly things just to make me smile. You never offer advice but give superb counsel when asked. You love me for who I am regardless of my wardrobe, financial status, employment status, ethnicity, religion or creed and whether or not I am all made up pretty or look like death warmed over. I love you, man.

**Alcoholic Apple Pie Recipe
Ganked from Scotty Boom Boom’s FB page <- I totally don’t feel bad for ganking it because he didn’t go down when I pounced on him for stealing my hat.

½ gallon apple juice
½ cup (slightly less, actually) of brown sugar
2 tbsp white sugar (could raise brown sugar to make up for it)
2 cinnamon sticks
3 shakes of ground nutmeg
Simmer for 30 minutes.
Add 500 mL of everclear or equivalent once cool.
Add ¼ tsp of 2x strength vanilla extract with liquor.
Final ABV: 19.8%

Notes from Boom Boom:
“I prefer it with brandy (it's smoother) which lowers the alcohol to about 8.5% unless you raise the proportion.
I'd let it mellow for a 2-4 weeks if you can wait, but it should be fine as-is. Depending how good your sterile technique is (I sanitize everything like I'm brewing) you may want to refrigerate it if it's <15% alcohol or so.
Use something decent [brandy] that you wouldn't be afraid to drink in a mixed drink, but you are putting it in with a ton of sugar and spice so you don't need to get extravagant. Last time I used E&J, which I think was about $15 or so a bottle. Don't use cheap vanilla, though--get the real stuff!”