I wrote.

I wrote 12 sentences before I got into bed last night. They were boring and overly dramatic. I closed the book and threw it on the floor. It will stay there until I have company and have to tidy up my place.

Prior to this, and after leaving the yarn store, I stopped by my parents house. There was some sort of party going on over there. Not really. I mean, not in the invitations and balloons and cake sense, but there was a small congregation of people including my mom and dad (obvi, seeing as they live there), my sister, my bro-in-law, my cuttestbabyever nephew, my brother, and my maternal grandmother (we often refer to her as 'Grandma F'). I ate some pasta salad and breaded and fried eggplant. Then I ate about 3 different types of cookies. If you know anything about my parents house, it's that it is actually an oreo, chips ahoy, anyothertypeofgenericcookietheycangettheirhandson, warehouse. I enjoy this aspect of visiting.

My brother is seldomly home, and when he is he likes to hide away in his bedroom. So after consuming enough cookies for a full on belly ache, I descended the stairs to go chill with him for a bit. There was actually a mini party going on when I got there. The scene: My brother, sister, and brother-in-law, all standing around my brothers bed, which was covered in boxes of all different sized knives. Like pocket knives. I thought he was doing something illegal, until I looked at the much larger box that these smaller boxes came in. It was from QVC. My brother had ordered a zillion knives from the home shopping network. You have to love my wacky family. See, I'm not the only weirdo. The knives bore names like "the avenger" and "the vigilante" and there were two "Deep Sea Diving" knives. There were many many more, but I was so completely shocked by the amount of knives, that I completely didn't have the mental capacity to remember the names. It was hilarious. We craked all of the jokes that we could about starting a gang, and what we were going to do when I got pulled over on my way home with my 87 year old grandmother in the car, and got arrested for 35 concealed weapons. Ok, I exaggerate a bit, I only went home with 4 knives total, and my brother assured me that if the blades were smaller than my palm, they're not illegal to carry. My father came down and discovered our operation. We suckered him into not telling my mother, but then someone let the cat out of the bag and she was in on it too. Insanity insued. She tried to steal my knives. I wouldn't let her have them.

The moral of the story is: Don't fuck with me. I'm armed.

In other news, I also came away from my brother's room with some other lovely parting gifts including:

-A bottle opener magnet from the Bellagio in Vegas
-A mini leatherman
-2 pads of post its
-A screw driver. The kind that as a bunch of different screw heads stuck to it with magnets.
-I know there was definitely more, and I'm sure he slipped a few things into my box of goodies when I wasn't paying attention.

He was clearly having a nervous breakdown and felt the need to declutter. Boy o boy does that kid hoard a lot of junk. Thankfully, most of it was cool shit like tools and electronics. He even had some soder, but, sadly, I did not get that prize. Maybe next time.



Shawna called me in to the work at the yarn store tonight. She got called in to her other job to tend bar. It's been quiet. One customer. She needed help picking up stitches. Then I managed to sell her some yarn to make a bag to match her shawl. I did this by picking up said yarn, then citing "wow, this is gorgeous"...and that was that. I'm a terrible salesperson, but, apparently, she was in the market.

I spent my first hour here writing a story. A love story. But then my hand began to hurt.

In other news, I'm no longer going to Paris with Ian. Instead, Jackie has so graciously stepped in to keep me company. I'm delighted. She's been my girl since 1984, and when we're together one can expect nothing short of insanity. I think the fact that neither one of us knows a full sentence in French is going to be cause for some grand ol'fun. Although, thanks to 7th grade mandatory foreign language and Ms. Sketrit, we can both definitely sing the Beeftek song and the alphabet. Perhaps those two things, and are cunning wit, will get us by for our 5 day excursion/escape/world domination tour.



I organized my craft room last night.

Last night. Beer. Cigar. Sewing.

The morning light.


I may be crazy.

If I were a bore I would never answer my phone. My dreams would be tame. My expression flat.

My feet would not hurt.
My head would be empty.
My clothes would be clean.
My hair would be done.

But I'm crazy.

And looking up flights to Orlando.


Weekend roundup.

I haven't been home in days. Hours. 3 moons. 2 breakfasts at Alice's Tea Cup. One trip to the MoMA. Two rides on the Southern State, Cross Island, LIE, Van Damn, 59h St Bridge, 1st ave, 2nd ave. One night at Comic Strip Live. 4 Heinekens at Doc Watsons. Countless shots of Patron and Makers. A pitcher of Blue Moon and domination of the juke box at Swig. One Joyce book. One letter in my pocket. One fantastic church on 88th. 3 dresses. Black, white, red. Dinner at Big Daddy's, Dorians, and Rosa Mexicano. 2 hangovers. A gazillion memories.

All while writing our fiction.
And planning out the future.

With Carlos Tamale, the Weimaraner.


Everything old is new again.

I spent the last half hour reading through old posts.

These are my favorites:


http://newdaystobrave.blogspot.com/2005/09/colorado.html (just because I love and miss that sweatshirt terribly)

I know I say this about, oh, maybe once every six months or so, but I'd really like to start blogging again. I can't believe how often I used to post when I first started this blog. Damn that was a long time ago, and it's quite spooky to see just how much my life has changed...And just how much I've stayed the same Suzy throughout.

I think that I may be coming into one of the best times of my life, and I'd really like to share the excitement with all of you. xoxo


Happiness is:

Dylan burying his bones in conspicuous places...Like my office chair.

I think I'm sick. Actually, I think I'm 100% well (mind over matter, right?). It all went down last night. I was a powerhouse. I went straight to the laundromat from work. I did laundry, ate a falafel sandwich for dinner, and was home by 6, very much anticipating my night of relaxing and Project Runway. My mother called and said that her and my pops were going to swing by. They brought me an italian ice, and we chit chatted for a bit, when suddenly I became very achy. I thought, there's no way I'm still achy from playing volleyball Monday night. A half hour or so into the aches, I began to feel feverish. Nooooooooo! Took my temp and it was 99.6. This may seem low to the average Joe, but my normal temperature tends to hover around 97.6. Yucky. So I took some Advil, got into bed, watched as much Project Runway as I could, and passed out. Slept solid as a rock. Woke up this morning still feeling crummy. Stopped at the drug store on my way to work to get some Echinacea and Orange Gatorade. Hopefully I'll feel better by 4:30, because I have quite the night/few days ahead of me.

I took off tomorrow so that I can go to the UES to hang with Jackie and not have to worry about driving home for work in the AM. Tonight, we plan on throwing her co-worker Steven a mini surprise party at her apt. (shhhhhh) Nothing fancy, we're just baking cupcakes and making him a birthday hat, and decorating a little bit. Then we're going to drag his butt to the piano bar, because we all had so much fun there the last time!

Tomorrow we plan on going to Alice's Tea Cup for breakfast...mmmmm...crepes. Then we'll go to the dog park with the pups, and relax on the lawn for a few hours. That's that.

Send me "get well now" good vibes.


Are titles really necessary?

Chris, if you're reading this again, I'd like to thank you for tricking me so hardcore this morning. I think that you knew that there was a better chance of me visiting you in Nova Scotia than there was of me visiting you in Bed Sty (you were most likely correct). Anywho, I'm glad that you are only going for a week long trip, and not for a year. I'm also happy that you are well enough to take advantage of my gullibility. xoxo

In other news, tonight I will be going to Astoria to visit Ian. We plan on eating a lot (pizza bagels, tuna melts, salads and gelato) and watching the Yankee game. I really really really hope the boys win so that I can drive home happy. Tomorrow night is laundry night 2008. It's gonna be huge. Thursday night I'll be chillin' on the UES, most likely at Brandy's Piano Bar on 84th if you'd like to join us. Friday night I got roped into going to a bachelorette party at the beach. I barely know the girl, but I know others that are going, and I believe it will be fun. Saturday is All Points West, and I cannot even stand the anticipation I am experiencing about seeing Radiohead. Sunday I'll work at the yarn store and rest...Here's to being hopeful.


Dear Mr. Tabron:

This one's for you.

I hope you're feeling better. I told you I would update this bugger.

The "it's been a while" list:

  1. Summer is fabulous.
  2. I'm going to Paris with Ian for my birthday.
  3. I moved to Lindenhurst.
  4. My nephew, Chase John, was born on July 23, 2008. He is amazing.
  5. Radiohead is THIS Saturday.
  6. No school for the summer is FABULOUS.
  7. I'm knitting stuff for myself.
  8. There is so, so, so, so, so, much more...