Question of the Day #946

I just finished catering a breakfast for 13 women. First they went for a walk and a climb on the Santa Monica Steps. After their workout, they returned to my client's house. She requested tea, fresh scones, a berry bowl, oatmeal and a frittata.

I suggested two frittatas. My client hesitated then said, "My friends don't really eat. But I guess that will give them more options."

So I made two frittatas, 5 cups of oatmeal, a berry bowl, fresh scones and put out some yogurt and oatmeal toppings.

When I went outside to clear plates from the girls, a few scones, a little oatmeal and half a fritatta had been consumed.

I could eat that by myself. Easy.

What is up with chicks who don't eat???

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #945

Last night around 1:30 AM, my cousin's water broke. She and her husband got up, took their toddler to a friend's and sped to the hospital. During the ride, she felt the baby coming out.

When they reached the hospital, the baby's legs were out. Normally they do a C-section on breech babies, but this time, the baby was naturally born breech.

The baby was born within an hour of the water breaking.

I'm predicting that girl is going to be something special. Anyone who is in that much of a rush to start her life must have an extraordinary life to lead.

But can you imagine the panic her mother felt? Have you or someone you know experienced a crazy birth?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #944

Last night, while at a bar, a small girl, probably 5 feet tall and 100 pounds announced, "I'm freakishly strong."

"Really?" TY asked.

"Yep. I'll show you." Then she wrapped her arms around him, just below his butt, and picked him up, spun him around and walked a few steps before plopping him down.

"How much do you weigh?" I asked.

"About a buck eighty," he replied.

"Wow. I wonder if a normal person can do that," I said.

"I'm gonna try," I said as I wrapped my arms around TY and lifted him about an inch of the ground.

"Holy moly!" I said, releasing my friend. "You ARE freakishly strong!" I pointed at the tiny powerhouse girl.

"I know," she said. "I can do it in heels too."

Do you know any freakishly strong people?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #943

The headline Teen Charged with Murder After Cops Fatally Shoot Companion jumped out at me. Next, a new development in the sickening Casey Anthony trial. Then a story about the Republican race for president heating up. Then another questioning whether or not American Idol's Lauren Alaina and Scotty McCreery are a couple.

The news is nuts.

What new stories are leaping out at you?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #942

In light of the impending long weekend, how about some Friday fantasy fun?

Imagine you are at work and your boss approaches and says, "You've been doing such a good job that I want you and a guest to go anywhere you like, starting now, for the long weekend. The company will pay for transportation, hotel and all food and beverages. Just be back on Tuesday, okay?"

Where would you go?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #941

Whew! This is tough week. A low tone. Grumpy. My left shoulder is all tensed up. A sure sign that my mind is bursting with bad.

How does your body react to your moods?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #940

I'm thinking about getting a haircut.

This may not sound eventful to you, but I haven't had a real haircut, like go to the salon and have a stylist style it, in about a decade.

I've cut my own hair for years. It's curly. Nobody can tell if I cut it crooked. And frankly, I'm not super vain about how I look anyway. I don't wear makeup, and most of the time, I'm not too concerned about what I'm wearing.

That's what happens when you suffer from Arrogance of the Brain. Since brains turn me on, I assume that people will be attracted to my brains too, not the way I look.

How's that for a tangent?

Anyway, I need to trim my dry ends and I'm thinking that ten years is a good point at which to get a real haircut. I've researched curly hair specialists and I found a salon in LA for people like me. So I think I'm going to get crazy and make an appointment. Who knows, it might make me feel super sassy. At the very least, it will be a good treat.

What treat would you like to give yourself?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #939

Last night, mid-flight, I got up to use the lavatory. I pushed on the door and it folded in and slid aside to reveal a man relieving himself.

"Oh my god!" I said and spun around to face two female flight attendants in the galley.

The three of us howled with laughter. People turned in their seats to see what the ruckus was about.

After a few moments, the man came out red-faced.

"I'm so sorry," we said at the same time. Then he made his way down the aisle.

What mid-flight mishaps have you experienced?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #938

It's been a while since I've had a traditional Italian dinner at a family event. But yesterday, the meal started with a caprese salad, followed by eggplant rollatini. Next came a mixed green salad. The penne vodka pasta course was a precursor to the veal piccata. All that was followed by coffee and cake.

Then I walked two miles and tried to forget I enjoyed every bite.

What do your family event meals look like?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #937

Big thanks to Lady A for sharing the link to this veggie-loving video. As you may have gathered, I never met a vegetable I didn't like.

How do you feel about vegetables?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #936

On Thursday, I noticed a full page ad in USA Today describing the end of the world. In case you haven't heard yet, that's happening today.

I'd like to say I fulfilled some last minute fantastical decadence, but I didn't. Yesterday, I overheard people in the supermarket joking about "End of the World Cocktails" and "End of the World Carbfests." And if I thought that Harold Camping, the man behind "The Rapture," was blessed with a molecule of sanity, perhaps I would have eaten every potato product ever conceived and washed them down with a keg of beer.

Clearly, I think the guy is nuttier than an almond grove. But I want to know - what do you think about the whole scenario? Does any part of you worry that this may be it?

xoxo,
Suzanne

The Question of the Day #935

Who's your favorite Sesame Street character?

Mine's Cookie Monster. For obvious reasons. ;)

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #934

While facilitating trainings, I'm hyperaware of every stumble, stutter, "um" and "uhhh." I also noticed that I have a chronic addiction to the phrase, "you know?"

And recently, a friend informed me that I say, "blah, blah, blah," a lot. I thought he was crazy when he said it. Since then, I've caught myself saying, "blah, blah, blah" 672 times.

What phrases do you overuse?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #933

"C'mon Sue, let me show you my room!" A said and bounded up the stairs.

I ran after my girlfriend's four year-old as he dashed down the hall and took a flying leap on his bed and began to bounce up and down.

"You can jump on my bed too," he said.

"Well, thank you for the invitation, but I don't think that's a good idea." I looked around. "I really like your room."

"Did you see my guitar?" A pointed to a toy guitar in the corner of the room.

"That looks cool! Can you play it?" I asked.

A jumped off the bed and grabbed the guitar.

As his fingers hit the strings, a familiar rock song played. A leaned back like he was slamming a solo in front of thousands. He dropped to the floor and wiggled around on his back strumming the guitar the whole time. Then he sprang to his feet again and banged his head back and forth.

"Wow. You're really good! Maybe you're going to be a rockstar when you grow up," I said.

A stopped playing the guitar and stood up straight.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna be a rockstar, an artist, a construction builder and a spaceman," said A.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #932

Every time I fly, it amazes me that people don't seem to realize that the seat in front of them is my seat. They slam the tray table. They kick my seat. When they get up to go to the bathroom, they grab the top of the seat, pulling my head into their lap.

Every slam, kick and pull wakes me up. It drives me crazy.

What's your biggest pet peeve about being up in the air?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #931

If you could have any view from your home, what would it be?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #930

My brother, Nick, has been posting a series of "Great Polarizing Issues" on Facebook. The responses he has received are hilarious and indeed polarizing. So, I'm borrowing shamelessly.

1. Hamburgers or hot dogs?
2. David Lee Roth or Sammy Hagar?
3. Toilet paper - over or under?
4. Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?
5. Hellman's or Miracle Whip?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #929

Since Blogger ate QOTD #927, it looks like I skipped a day of Questions. Which got me thinking about how for the last three years, I've written a question every day. And every day, fabulous bloggers answer it.

It's become a daily discipline. One of the few things, besides basic functions like eating and sleeping, that I do every single day. Most of the time I write the question in the morning. Other times, like today, life gets in the way, so I write my question later. But I always write my question.

Do you have a daily discipline? Something you do every day no matter what? If so, what is it?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #928

Blogspot ate QOTD #927. The link still appears on Facebook via Networked Blogs but it doesn't work. The post is gone from the blog on the front and back end. And Question #928 (a whole other question) was pre-programmed to post this morning while I'm away on business. It too, is gone.

What the heck is going on? Any other bloggers experiencing post theft?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #926

I just read an article about a Connecticut boy who, in an effort to make a grand gesture, taped cardboard letter cutouts to the outside wall of his school's main entrance, reading, "Sonali Rodrigues, will you go to prom with me?"

Cute, right?

Until he was given one day in-school suspension for trespassing and posing a safety risk. The rules are, if you get in-school suspension after April 1, you can't go to prom.

Someone anonymously created a "Let James Tate Go to Prom" page on Facebook, which gained more than 1,000 supporters in just a few hours.

What's fascinating is that a small town matter can go worldwide in seconds. That suddenly, thousands of strangers are taking sides on a matter that has nothing to do with them. It's yet to be seen if the Facebook page will influence the school officials. But can you imagine being that principal, who's trying to enforce the rules, getting pushback from thousands of people who don't even know him/her?

What do you think of this story? What do you think about how personal news can go worldwide instantaneously?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #925

Would you rather be stuck for three hours on a broken elevator or a broken ski-lift?

xoxo,
Suzanne
PS - I'd choose the elevator. I don't get claustrophobic, but I do get seriously cold.

Question of the Day #924

I'm dying to go on a road trip.

My roommate just went to Big Sur, which reminded me that it's been about three years since I've driven the PCH along those cliffs. I used to go at least once a year. But now I have to work, so I don't have the time. And during the last few years, I didn't have the money.

A little road trip, top down, music blasting might do me some good. Even if I only get as far as Santa Barbara or Los Olivos. A desert drive out to Vegas is always tempting too. Or a ride through the mountains, just up the 2, might sate the urge.

If you were to take a road trip, where would you go?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #923

It’s like this
You try not to roll your eyes at me
As my laugh rings out across the church courtyard
But I can feel you stifling giggles
Churchgoers look our way
You smile pretty for the camera
After all, you’re used to people staring
That’s what happens when you’re the first
To start over
To start a business
To champion women
You did those things before those things could be done
By a girl
Because it never occurred to you that you might fail
“Just do it,” you say
Whenever I worry
Or wonder if it will all work out
“If you really want it, you’ll get it”
And I know that to be true because I’ve watched you
Lay the groundwork for your life
And mine
You handed me tools when I didn’t even know how to use them
Clearing the path to a better view
Standing behind me
The whole time
Whispering,
“Fly, birdie, fly.”

Anybody want to share thoughts about your mom today?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #922

Yesterday's post about The Perfect Summer inpspired this question.

Have you ever been diagnosed or prescribed something by a doctor and known in your heart that they were wrong? If so, what happened?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #921

It occurred to me while writing QOTD #913 that I’ve never told you the story about The Perfect Summer. It’s super personal, so maybe that’s why I’ve held back, but heck, if you go to the first question of this blog and read all the way through, you’ll know just about everything there is to know about me. And since this blog is all about sharing experiences, this one should not go untold.

The Summer of 2003 buzzed in, carrying excitement every second of the way. We potted new flowers, made a rock garden by the pool, readied the lounge and scrubbed the BBQ pit. It was the perfect mix of roommates, the perfect long Winter psyching us up for what MF and I named The Perfect Summer.

Summer weekends at Mansfield were like little parties. They started on Friday at Happy Hour, when everyone milled in from work and ended Sunday night, with me and GB poolside, talking out the happenings of the weekend. We didn’t go anywhere, except to the store for more food or bevies. We didn’t do anything but lie in the sun, listen to music, play board games and an occasional round of Questions. We didn’t invite anyone over. They just came.

So when Granny died in June, The Perfect Summer got knocked off its launching pad. She was my friend. My confidant. My cooking go-to girl. My phone buddy. My mentor.

I spent a couple weeks in NJ to try and recover and on the first night, went to a BBQ at a friend’s house. In the morning, my back itched and burned. I asked a friend to look at it. She gasped. “It’s a bull’s-eye.”

I went to the in-town doctor I’d seen as a child.

“Classic Lyme disease!” He shouted and gave me a prescription for Amoxicillin.

“That’s it?” I asked. He cocked a bushy eyebrow at me. “What else do you need?”

Two days later, bent over and swollen, I reached around to the center of what was then two gigantic bulging red rings of flesh. Something was sticking out of it.

My friend plucked it out with tweezers. A tiny brown fleck.

“Probably a scab,” we conceded. But I knew something was wrong. I was not feeling any better since starting the antibiotics. In fact, I felt far worse.

I called my brother. “I’ll pick you up in 10 minutes,” he said.

At the hospital, I explained the situation to the doctor, who laughed.

“What? Did you think that was part of the tick? Like it’s running around inside you or something? It’s nothing and your prescription is fine.” He shooed me out of the ER.

I went back to my childhood home and cried.

The next day, my friend, Rock, who has battled Lyme for decades, called me.

“I heard you have Lyme. I called my specialist. You’re going to see her at 2:00.”

After listening to my situation, the specialist pulled tiny bags out of a drawer. A little brown fleck, like a pepper flake in each one.

“Did it look like this?” She asked.

“Yes,” I responded.

“It was the tick. Those other doctors have no idea what they’re talking about. You need to go on six weeks of Ceftin. It’s expensive. $800. Can you afford it?” She asked.

“No.” I said. My prescription plan didn’t cover stuff like that.

“Okay, we’ll try tetracycline first. It doesn’t always get the same results and some people get a reaction from it. But it’s cheap. Call me if you have any problems.”

A rocket couldn’t have gotten me home fast enough. When I arrived at Mansfield, my kind roommates expressed sorrow about Granny. I hadn’t gone there yet. Too much craziness to grieve her. I retreated to the hut and worked quietly. Until I woke one morning in hives.

I called the specialist in NJ who told me I was allergic to the tetracycline. With some help from my father, I began my third round of antibiotics, Ceftin.

The Not So Perfect Summer happened quietly around me. The roomies invited me to join the board games and pool fun. But I was achy. I wasn’t supposed to be in the sun. And I was so exhausted. So I slept a lot and it was during one of those nights that I woke to a stinging on my arm. I remember scratching and thinking, “Don’t scratch,” and falling back asleep.

In the morning, I found a bite on the inside of my elbow and swollen red veins leading up to my armpit. My critique group came over that evening and M, who was a doctor, looked at the bite and told me to go to the Emergency Room.

So I did.

“This is a very bad spider bite,” the doctor said. “A black widow. I need to put you on a very strong antibiotic right away. It’s called Ceftin and it’s very expensive.” He began scribbling on a pad.

“I’m on Ceftin,” I said.

“You’re on Ceftin?” He looked down at me, over his reading glasses.

“Yes. I have Lyme disease.”

“Lyme disease? Where did you get Lyme disease?” He sat down like it was all too much for him.

“New Jersey.”

He picked up my arm and began inspecting it again.

“My god,” he said. “Your Lyme disease saved your life. If you weren't on the Ceftin, you wouldn’t be here.”

He prescribed me another antibiotic to take along with the Ceftin and by the next day, the swollen veins were less angry. And a week or so later, I started to feel better.

Until one night, while I lay in bed and felt a bug on my leg. Then another and another. I turned on the light and searched for mosquitoes, fleas, anything. I went in the house and settled on the couch, but there too, it felt like my skin was crawling. The next day, I bombed my room for bugs, changed my bedding to hypo-allergenic everything.

But my skin still crawled.

So I called the spider doctor.

“Have you taken any Angel Dust lately?” He asked.

“What?! I don’t do drugs!” I said. Plus, what, was it suddenly 1970? Angel Dust?

Finally, we did the math and realized that four courses of antibiotics over more than seven weeks had created so much yeast in my body, that my skin was actually crawling.

After loads of medication to manage the yeast, I eventually got a negative Lyme test. Fall came quietly, and somewhere in October I finally fell apart and grieved Granny, when I was ready.

It was the farthest from perfect Summer I’ve ever had. And I find the events to be really weird, wondering if perhaps an Angel sent me a tick to outwit a spider. That, I’ll never know.

Well, at least not until Granny and I meet again.

Meanwhile, the question is, have you ever jinxed yourself by assuming something will be “perfect”?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #920

Last night, I lay next to my Robitussin and tissues, bag of jellybeans in hand and watched Eat, Pray, Love.

I've never read the book, because I tend to poopoo mass market phenomenons deemed to change women's lives. (Except for He's Just Not That Into You. I most certainly purchased that book and scribbled out every exercise in it. Therefore not only changing my life, but my then-boyfriend's, who was promptly dumped.) I never intended to watch that movie, but three days of chills, sweats and coughing while enduring that awful brain fuzz that comes along with cold medicine, left me with few other options than HBO.

So I got past the first act where I thought they did a poor job of introducing a catalyst and surrendered to Hollywood. Once I stopped picking it apart, certain lines kept stinging me. So much, that I finally began scribbling them down in my notebook.

“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.”

“You don’t need a man. You need a champion.”

"Balance is not letting anyone love you less than you love yourself."

Then there was a joke about a man who went to a Catholic church every day and prayed and prayed to a statue “Please, please, please let me win the lottery.” Finally, the exasperated statue comes to life and says, “My son, please, please, please buy a ticket.”

Surprisingly, this mass market phenom had jabbed me personally, in my bruised spots.

What mass market success shocked you by hitting home?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #919

Chills. Sweats. Hack, hack, hack.

I'd like to take a lesson from Little Miss QOTD #918, but after struggling to sleep for the last four hours and realizing that it's pointless and I'll never make it to the office tomorrow, I'm officially a grumpalufugus.

What's got you down?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #918

Who is the most positive person you know?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #917

The Hostess Cupcakes made me think of other old school stuff I used to love. Spaghetti-o's, the scent of Coppertone tanning lotion, FM radio.

What throwback would you like to bring back?

xoxo,
Suzanne

Question of the Day #916

Yesterday, for my birthday, TY brought me Hostess cupcakes. You know, the old school style. And he chose those, because on his birthday, H and I gave him a bakery cupcake that looked like a Hostess old school style cupcake.

He liked his cupcake. And I really liked mine too.

I think we started tradition.

What birthday traditions do you carry out?

xoxo,
Suzanne