Susan Marie Molloy

🌺 Life in the Oasis 🌴


I’m Losing It — Almost

Last night I was so very clever with a punchline to a conversation my beau and I had. It was so clever, it was going to be today’s blog. And darned if I can remember the witty conversation. So, all I can say is, “blah, blah, blah, giggle, giggle, . . . (and my witty remark was) “Well, that’s nothing; Elvis is running for office.”

Ha ha ha. Anyway, yes, there is a guy running for a congressional seat in Arkansas, and his name is Elvis D. Presley. You can read about it HERE, via UPI. This is not my endorsement.

What I learned from my forgetting the meat of our conversation last night that preceded my punchline, is that I need to jot down notes, just as I do when I’m in the process of reading books to review, or my ideas on writing poetry and short stories. The ol’ brain just doesn’t recall everything, especially when there’s more going on here at The Oasis than usual this month.

We are getting our backyard prepared for landscaping, and with that excitement and being tired at the end of the day is all the more reason to always have paper and pen to jot down notes, thoughts, and grocery lists. And something else, I just don’t remember what. Oh, yeah, my witty remarks.  Crazy, isn’t it?

The Landscapers Dug Up Our Yard

I’m NOT chalking it up to getting older. No way, no how.

Hope your day goes well and that you remember, ummmm, something.

©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.



I’m Bleh – How are You Doing?

Since this past Sunday, life here in the oasis has been so-so. Both my beau and I have been fighting something – achiness, tiredness, fever, and a little hint of a flu, cold, or something wanting to bombard us.

Although I have been able to post my blogs for the week, Yours Truly has been slow on responding to your comments. Sorry about that.

Resting, napping, and gentle reading has been the order of the week for me. As much as you wash your hands when you come home from being out in public, you still can catch something no matter how formidable your defenses are. I’m guessing we caught and are fighting this “thing” since last Friday when we went to the show to see “Winchester.” At the side counter where we grabbed some napkins and a little butter for our popcorn, we were blessed with a rousing cough cough hack wheeze from another patron there. Ugh.

As I’ve been slowly recuperating, this morning my thoughts have been going through the boxes of my family’s photographs and memorabilia. Next week I’ll be sharing some of the most interesting and unusual things with you, and hope that you’ll find them interesting, too.

In the meantime, I hope you are all well and that no one is so generous as to pass along a virus to you that you don’t want.

©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.


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.


English, Irish, or Scottish for Breakfast?

If you drink coffee, do you ever get a little sick from drinking too much? Up to last August, we had a Keurig at home, so making one cup or two was the norm for the day. I’d have a cuppa when I got ready for work, and I usually took one to the office in my thermos. That added up to two cups per day, which agreed with me.

Then the Keurig was starting to go on the fritz, so we gave it up and replaced it with a twelve cup Mister Coffee Mega-Coffee-Making-Machine. Yessir, more space-saving than the old Keurig, but now we grind our own beans, too.  Ahhh–caffeine!

Twelve cups of high test caffeine every day: six for my beau, six for me. Now that I work at home (remember, I walked away last year from the horrible “career” I had), we drink coffee non-stop until that pot is empty, sometimes making another twelve-cup pot to nurse the rest of the day.

Then, over this past week, my beau told me he feels a little “heartburny” after drinking the java. I remarked that, come to think of it, I have a hard time falling asleep.

Maybe it’s the coffee. Or more like too much joe.

Yesterday and this morning, we skipped the coffee and had a cup of hot tea with breakfast. My beau chose oolong, and I went for the Irish Breakfast. So far, so good, we’re both feelin’ groovy and although coffee may still be in our future, but not to take center stage, tea is really where it’s at. I’ve always liked tea with a touch of honey.I found a fascinating blog this past weekend about several types of teas. I’ve had English Breakfast and Irish Breakfast, and there is – whoa, Baby!— Scottish Breakfast tea. I never heard of it, and neither did my beau – and he’s the European traveller of sorts. It sounds intriguing.  I must find it.

Following is the link to the blog,” What The Heck Is the Difference?” from Tea and Tales that speaks about those three breakfast teas. I hope you enjoy it.

via What The Heck Is The Difference?