Enjoy Wry & Relatable Humor That Pokes Fun At Everyday Life
SUSAN’S UNFILTERED WIT
Observations about life from the far side of the hill
Susan started writing when she discovered, in retirement, that she looked terrible in golf clothes and canasta had way too many rules. Looking for something personally meaningful to do that did not require wearing polo shirts, she enrolled in a class for fledging writers. Not quite ready to tackle the great American novel, she began to write short, witty essays about life from the perspective of “a woman of a certain age.”
Deciding that the world needed another Erma Bombeck and\or Nora Ephron, with a bit of Andy Rooney thrown in for good measure, she went public. Susan created her blog, now called Susan’s Unfiltered Wit, where she continues to entertain her generation of pre-baby boomers and beyond with new posts twice a month.
The “Writ” Stuff
It’s been a while since I’ve griped about TV news. Eighteen months and 16 days to be exact. That’s because I’ve been on a diet – a kind of Golo for news junkies. But who can stick to a controlled viewing plan when the world is standing on its head? At the time of my last “rant” I took up arms to combat the over-usage of metaphors that permeated TV broadcasting. In addition to a diminishing tolerance for cliches, I resented their repeated usage because they were downright intimidating. Their use is supposed to signal that the person using them
Overheard in the Sandbox
I know I said you wouldn’t be hearing from me until mid-September, but I felt compelled to interrupt my hiatus to comment on
Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow…..
When it comes to decluttering, the world seems to consist of two types of people: those who are able to divest themselves of inanimate
Here’s the Thing…..
No doubt my priorities are all screwed up. There’s so much going on in the world that cries out for serious attention and
So Where’s The Duck?
So why do I feel like I’m doomed to spend the rest of my days imprisoned in an old Groucho Marx quiz show?
Bowled Over
On any given day, there are countless reminders that I am an old person. Not least of which is the pain in my
Summer Is A Bummer
Admittedly, I’m not a big fan of nostalgia. My capacity for fondly recounting the good old days is about half a cup. Sure,
More Dinners with Friends
Six days and counting, and I continue to eat my way out of Florida. More good-bye dinners with friends we will not see