Susan Marie Molloy

🌺 Life in the Oasis 🌴


Date Night: Bustanoby Cocktail

Several months ago, I picked up a very vintage bartender’s guide, Trader Vic, published in 1948. You can read about it HERE.

A couple of weeks ago, my beau and I wanted to try a vintage cocktail, I was in the mood for crème de menthe, and voila! There was something called a Bustanoby Cocktail.

A little research outside the bartender’s guide revealed there was a restaurant in New York City years ago. Perhaps this cocktail originated or was named for Bustanoby’s Restaurant at 148 East 556th Street, New York City. I don’t know for sure; research revealed little to nothing, except I found one of their menus from who knows when? The drink menu page offers a Bustanoby’s Fizz, but that’s not the drink I’m sharing today. Here’s what the drink menu page from the restaurant looks like. Wow! Those prices!

Now back to the Bustanoby Cocktail. This is the recipe from the 1948 Trader Vic’s bartender guide:

And this is what it looks like in real life:

It’s an interesting cocktail. The orange juice tones down the rock ‘em sock ‘em crème de menthe; it’s barely perceptible in the background as you sip it. We like this vintage cocktail for its uncommon and subtle minty taste.

And since it’s Saint Patrick’s Day, why not try something different that the ho-hum been-there-done-that green beer?


©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.



Joy in February, Joy in Lent, and Just Plain Joy!

In a way, this was a slow week for me, and that was nice. I got over the flu thing pretty much from all the rest I took. Yay.

While I rested, my Kindle was busy serving me up with a lot of short stories and poems. It made for good reading, even on those nights I couldn’t fall asleep. It’s surprising how many good works I found from new authors. So, resting can be productive in its way.

We took The Chariot (our car) in for its routine oil change, and on the way back home, we finally stopped at the little Polish Deli near our cottage. I was in Heaven! I picked up some fresh kiełbasa, a link of kiszka, and two pounds of pierogi (one with kapusta and one with cherries).The lady at the Polish deli seemed to be tickled pink at my excitement at finding the deli. Truthfully, it’s difficult to find anything Polish (food, culture, et cetera) where we live now, in the South. Back home in Chicago, you’d have no problem at all. I’m all Polish; by the way, it’s part of my heritage, and I like keeping up with my family’s traditions.

I felt a little girlish, a lot giddy, and so darn overjoyed that I now have a place to get the foods I normally don’t make at home from scratch. I can make the pierogi, but I’m looking for a good kiełbasa recipe (and the sausage attachment for my Kitchen Aid mixer).

On Valentine’s Day, we got a lovely card from my aunt. Not a bad return on the LOVE. I talked with her for a good hour – so much to catch up on! – and my beau and I had a quick lunch at the country club that’s just down the street from our cottage.

Anyway – it was a good week, and I hope yours was good, too.

©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.


At the Movies: “Winchester”

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision yesterday afternoon to hit the road and mosey on into town to see the latest that Hollywood has to offer: “Winchester.” Following is my take on the film.


Helen Mirren exhibits a stunning performance as Old, Tormented, Haunted America who wears a black veil to mourn her violent, gun-ridden past.

Jason Clarke is the foggy-minded doctor dope fiend hooked on laudanum who does not see the state of the Union (the United States) until he is dope-free and his mind clear. Not only is he tasked with trying to find out what Old, Tormented, Haunted America really wants, he plays a dual role as the personification of the United Government/Congress.

Sarah Snook is New America, hopeful for a new beginning, a female Diogenes of sorts, looking for the truth and carrying a lighted lamp hither and yon through the maze of confusion to lead the way to a new, violent-free existence.

Eamon Farren is the Ghost of America Past, a man who personifies all mass shootings and the constant civil war he wages. He cannot be stopped until the dope fiend doctor’s refurbished magic bullet is put to a better use than murder.

Laura Brent acts as the personification of Confused People throughout history who committed suicide with a rifle (or any type of gun), because, you know, guns are evil.

Tyler Coppin plays a convincing role as The Anti-Gun Lobby who must help Old, Tormented, Haunted America (Mirren) get through the confusion of guns versus no guns.

Douglas Embry represents a shackled black slave, a reminder of slavery, “that peculiar institution,” which also suggests the Second Amendment also is a “peculiar institution” that must be abolished.

Angus Sampson: The Builder who works behinds the scenes.

Finn Scicluna-O’Prey is the Future of America, a victim of circumstances.


Thirteen Nails. In an Oscar-worthy performance, these represent the Original Thirteen States. Throughout the film, Old, Tormented, Haunted America insists that thirteen nails, and only thirteen, must be used to shut rooms (or all avenues) to keep the Ghosts of the Second Amendment locked up so they won’t continue to hurt people. Subtly stated, they teasingly infer that the damnable Second Amendment should have been killed with the Founding Fathers of the Original Thirteen States and have not even seen the light of day.

The Black Veil. It makes a stunning performance on Old, Tormented, Haunted America’s head to denote the shame, shame, shame of allowing guns in society. Or maybe guns, in general. Either way, it’s a dramatic and classy performance.

The Intercom System. Its role was magnificently played out to emphasize “Who out there in America will hear The Cry of Gun Control? Hello? Hello?”

The 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. It’s brought out of retirement to play the part of shaking up things and shaking sense into American society to realize that gun control is the way to go.

The Greenhouse Garden. The Womb of a New America, where the dope fiend doctor finally can “see,” his head is cleared about the evils of guns, and engages his Refurbished Magic Bullet to do the deed.

The Refurbished Magic Bullet. The magic bullet (The Vote to Repeal) that kills the Second Amendment and provides hope to all with its motto, “Forever Together” engraved on its casing.

Automatic Writing. In a heroic performance outside of its comfort zone, it not only writes, but draws interior room designs to denote the struggles of writing new, never before used verbiage to kill the Second Amendment.

Laudanum. The proverbial enabling ostrich with its head in the sand.

The Winchester Repeating Rifle. As always, its role is to repeat the mantra, “Guns, bad. Second Amendment repeal, good.” Lock, load, and repeat, ad infinitum.

The Second Amendment. The Snidely Whiplash of this film. ‘Nuf said.


The intelligence of the American movie-going public.


At the end, The Thirteen Nails pounded into “the nails in the coffin” of the Second Amendment, is scarily pushed out, one by one by the National Rifle Association (who had no face nor lines in the film). Rumor has it, the NRA wasn’t paid nor was credited, either.

Before the film started, I noticed that there was a plethora of film trailers touting upcoming paranormal movies. That’s because the subliminal message to the audience was that “Winchester” is a movie about the paranormal. I wish it was.

Yeah. Right. What a crock this film was. It’s all about attempting to brainwash the public about gun control.

It made me laugh, then scoff at the film in disgust.

It’s too bad that these wags used the real Sarah Winchester, an heir to the Winchester Repeating Arms Company to peddle their transparent message.  I wanted an entertaining movie, not to be preached to.

And, finally, what’s up with the similar movie poster to “My Cousin Rachel?”


©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.


Date Night: Panther’s Breath

Sometimes my beau and I stay home for Date Night, maybe order out Chinese, pop in a DVD of an old classic move, and mix a drink.

We did this recently, and we tried an old timey drink from a 1948 Trader Vic’s Bartender Guide I picked up at an estate sale for a twenty-five cents.

As you can see, it’s simple to make, and it’s pretty:

The bitters are what you smell when you bring your nose to your glass, then as you sip on the cream to the blue curaçao, the drink becomes a blush of orange fruit-tasting goodness.

Thirty seconds later, my beau says, “Can I have another?”

Ha ha. Sure. With only a half ounce of liquor in each drink, it’s a nice after dinner drink.

Here’s to you!   Sláinte!   Na zdrowie!

©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.


Chili con Carne, Life in the Oasis, and Writing

A little bit about me, my blog, and outlook on life:

You, probably like me, have been hearing ad infinitum how blasted cold it’s been lately. And if you live in that cold weather, I feel for you. I grew up in Chicago, where wintry winds off the lake fuel the bitterly cold air temperatures. Oh, yeah, and then there was the short time when I lived about 50 miles from the Manitoba, Canada border, where it seemed winter lasts 48 weeks out of the year. So, I know cold.

It’s been cool here, too, in Florida. The air temperature actually got into the 20s*F the past couple nights. Who would’ve thought? Well, so much for escaping the Midwest’s cold winters! To warm us up, I made a large pot of homemade chili con carne, and used chunks of beef instead of ground beef, for a change of dining pace.

As we were eating, I was thinking about when I started blogging, which was about 6 years ago. How it started was when my beau suggested it. His own blogging began when he retired from his long public service career and became a real estate broker, which led to him moving into the property management business, which, after that flamed out (rather, he burned out), led him to writing about beading art and wire work. Now, his occasional blog explores and comments upon the twisted side of life in It’s a Twisted Life According to Gene.

Which brings me back to my blog. I went from one leitmotif to another, and I didn’t seem to find my comfort level. Right now, if you flip through my blog, you will only find blogs as early as 2014, and those are just book reviews. Unfortunately, I wiped out a lot of articles I wrote because, in a fit of non-confidence one day, I got rid of blogs I thought were goofy. Or stupid. Or boring.

How silly.

Yes, it took me awhile, but I found what’s comfortable for me. My blog is subtitled, “Life in the Oasis”. What it means is, that my life – my world – is rich, lush, productive, and a sanctuary, while the world outside might be a foreboding wasteland at times. Moreover, my beau – my husband – is my own oasis, where he is, and always was, the one person I could always find refuge in, comfort, and happiness when the world outside was demanding, cruel, and inhospitable.

So – life in the oasis is a place – tangible and intangible – where harmony, fertility, cheerfulness, and optimistic thinking reign.

My blog focuses on the positive aspects of life, and the things I like. I write about my mundane daily life, movie and book reviews, how my beau and I keep love flaming hot, my discoveries and adventures, our travels, tips on homemaking, and other whacky subjects. I share my poems and photographs and share your blogs that grab me. And there are a variety of topics that can’t be particularly categorized, but they make it to this blog.

Since I left my glamorous 9 to 5 job (sarcasm) this past summer, I’m working at home now doing things I love (writing, reading, creating art, homemaking, travelling, being a wife, waiting on His Lordship and Her Ladyship – our two dogs, Toby and Trixie).  My blog has gently become an oasis where I hope you will find a few minutes to stop by and discover pacific, nurturing, and hilarious topics that somehow enrich your life, as your blogs do for me.

Welcome to Life in the Oasis.
Thank you for stopping by.
Sharing is cool.
Your logical, well-thought out comments here are what I live for.

©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.