The Sunday Spin (**'I'm finding it difficult to find a good sleep position while nursing and trying not to mess up this mohawk .')

1. This has been an EXTREMELY stressful week

2. Between work driving me crazy, negotiations for a condo falling through and trying to keep my past in the past, I was pooped

3. All I could do was sleep and sleep and sleep, which sometimes helps things get better, or makes me feel more drained

4. This time it was all drain

5. But I'm better now and I know this week will be more bearable

6. I planted the seeds for another side hustle this week and if all goes well, I'll have three jobs .... *whew* .... and three incomes! *hooray*

7. I'm trying to increase my investment knowledge and most recently I signed up for a Roth IRA. I'm also finding some valuable advice here. We'll see how this goes.

Bonus: I miss hot yoga. I must go back next week. I need a detox!!!

Have a good week everybody!

(**Tweet from Erykah Badu at 12:10 a.m. Aug. 11)

Right Brain Vs Left

I’m spending the summer working on my thesis. My professor has me on a strict plan of handing this research project to her in sections over these warm months, so I can spend the year just revising, and hopefully taking advantage of some financial rewards that come with being a grad student novelist. (Fingers crossed)

Dr L has received about a third of my work and we’re going to chat soon about what I’ve written so far. That makes me nervous and excited. Nervous because Dr L is an intimidating presence. I mean, she’s got the kind of soft voice that can make you feel like you’ve done a really good job. But she also has this look in her eyes that let you know that she can immediately turn into Angry Black Mother at any given time. Thankfully, she hasn’t gone ABM on me.

The biggest struggle I’m facing with this whole process is my rebelling Left Brain, my creative side. Thankfully, my thesis is part research and part novel that I’ve previously written, so I mainly have to focus on the research portion. At the same time, I’m revising another fiction novel that takes up a bit of my time. So it’s hard to go from my analytical Right Brain to my rebellious Left Brain on a daily basis.

I managed to set a schedule for the NIP (Novel In Progress). The goal is to write at least 1,500 words a day, five days a week. I have index cards for each day of the week, noting how many words I should reach by any given day and I check each number off once I’m done. Sometimes I wake up at 5 a.m. to write. Other times I’m up till midnight. And there are some weekends where I’m in front of that computer trying to catch up on the writing that I didn’t get in during the week. But it gets done. By my calculations, this latest draft of NIP will be complete by September. Do you know what happens then?? More revisions. Sigh.

But I can’t say that I’ve established a regular schedule with the thesis. I read my books on black masculinity and recovery, and also offer analysis of other pieces of fiction that I'll be comparing to novel #1. Still, no matter how much I do, I feel like I'm not making any progress.

I'm gonna keep plugging away at both projects, just cause that's what I do. And if it doesn't work, it just doesn't work. I'd be more than happy to throw everything away and just go back to one of my childhood dreams -- to become a rapper. You may laugh, but a wise man once told me that metaphors will keep me out of the projects. We'll see.

Choosing A Road of Passion & Pain (with apologies to Lauryn Hill)

We talk about a lot of interesting things at my job, and most recently the topic turned to passion marks. If I recall correctly, we were talking about the Twilight craze and how there were kids being faux vampires who ran around biting each other to show their love. Kids these days don’t even know how to give a proper passion mark.

Back in the day, I was quite naïve, if you could believe that. I once thought a hickey was a bruise you got after hitting your head really hard. So that caused some confusion when a classmate tried to describe a ‘Who’s The Boss’ episode to me, the one where Samantha’s boyfriend gives her a hickey. I just couldn’t understand why Sam’s boyfriend wanted to beat her up. He seemed like such a nice guy. Duh.

Fast forward a few years and hickeys/passion marks were still a mystery. I’d gotten a few, but I still hadn’t gotten the logistics down of how to give them. I have fond memories of when I first met mother’s boyfriend, now husband, and he ratted on me for having a hickey. (Why does no one ever believe that it’s a bug bite??) Then there was my job at the bagel shop. I was talking to a coworker when a customer loudly referred to “that big ass hickey on her neck” in front of a line filled with customers. Fun times.

The first and only hickey I gave was to an old boyfriend. We were both teenagers, so it took a bit of strategic planning to get us to spend the weekend together, but it was accomplished. I was determined to leave my mark and I guess I did, in the tackiest way possible. That hickey was so huge, it was nasty. It looked like someone beat him in the neck repeatedly with a baseball bat. For weeks, folks were either teasing him about it, or asking if he’d been in a fight.

From then on, I decided to use my mouth for good and not evil.

The Only Friend

I’ve known Kate for a few years, ever since I started graduate school. Our program is small, so everyone knows each other and tends to take classes together. Yet Kate and I became close when we struggled with a challenging research class (with challenging classmates), and I later discovered that she teaches in the community that I live in. As we continue to battle through the thesis process, we’d get together and chat about various things. She mentions her woes of being a teacher and not getting a raise this year, and I would politely tell her to STFU since she makes more money than me and I can’t even remember the last time I got a raise. Then we’d laugh and talk about other things.

The last time I saw her we had one of our hilarious dinners at Olive Garden. It was hilarious because we had the worst waiter in the world. The poor thing meant well, but he gave me spaghetti in meat sauce when I clearly wanted spaghetti and meatballs and her order for ravioli also got messed up. Everytime we go out to eat, something crazy happens. She told me she was going to have surgery for her knee and that she was pretty nervous about it. I told her to calm down, things would be fine.

And they were. She sent me an email after the surgery, saying that things went well and that she was recuperating at her brother’s home. I promised her I’d come see her once I returned from vacation. So I went off to the beach without a care in the world.

Then I get a phone call yesterday on Kate’s cell phone, but it was Kate’s mother talking. I’m kind of morbid, so as soon as I heard her mother’s voice I immediately panicked and thought that something horrible happened to Kate, that she was on the road dead somewhere. I was close. Her mother told me that she developed a horrible blood clot after the surgery. She woke up in the middle of the night and had trouble bleeding, then immediately called an ambulance. The doctors said that if she hadn’t called for help, she would have died in her sleep.

The whole story was jarring. But I was touched when her mother told me about how Kate thought of me as a good friend and how much our outings meant to her. Kate is from another state and it seems like I’m her only friend in this area. So today I’m going to round up a card and my game face before I head out to the hospital this evening to wish her well. I hope she can recover quickly from this.

The Post-Vacay Spin (*"Have a great day everybody. Be the sunshine. Not a cloud.")

1. I just got back from a fabulous three-day trip to the beach

2. It was good lounging with friends and meeting new people

3. The food was also great, forcing me to cheat on my vow of No Sweets Until Aug. 16

4. But I only had one slice of apple pie, so if I can get through the rest of this month with no other desserts, I'll consider that an accomplishment!

5. I'll soon post pictures of the vacation, I promise

6. Yet now I'm busy getting out of vacation mode, which means I have to work on my thesis (UGH) and clean this messy apartment (UGH UGH!)

7. In the meantime, I made an offer on a condo a few days ago. Still waiting on an answer. Sigh.

Have a great week everyone!

(*Tweet from Terry McMillan, 11:51 a.m. July 27)

Beachbound

It's late.

I just finished washing clothes.

My bed is covered with said clothes.

I haven't packed a thing.

All of that means one thing: I'M GOING OUT OF TOWN TOMORROW!!!!

I'm headed to the beach for a little while to get some much needed R&R. I took off today so I could get prepared for my trip, but as you can see, not much has happened on that front. What can I say? I'm the Last Minute Queen. I thrive on tight deadlines. It's an art form.

Soon, I'll start tossing things into my getaway bag. Then I'll make a list of the last minute things I need to do. My cat will roll his eyes and give me his "You better leave me enough food this time" look. It'll all come together smoothly ... it always does.

So, I guess at some point, I'll need to move away from this computer and start expediting the situation. But I'm watching The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo on Netflix and I'm not sure I'll be able to move until I've finished.

Anyway, everyone enjoy your weekends! I hope to post some pix when I return.

The Sunday (ok, Monday) Spin (**For all the focus on his racism & antisemitism, Mel Gibson doesn't get enough credit for his mysogyny ...)

1. If I don’t become a homeowner soon, I may kill somebody

2. And that ‘somebody’ might just be directed at the family with the glorious condo listed as a friggin nightmarish short sale, or the real estate folks that couldn’t remove the old people smell from one unit, or the homeowner who thought it would be wise to have wall to wall green carpet

3. Through Aug. 16, I will be going through a Sweet Fast. That means no unhealthy treats (and that includes my beloved french fries) during this time

4. But I’ll be going to the beach in a few weeks, so I’m not sure that I’ll know how to behave when I’m away from home

5. All I know is, come Aug. 17, I’m going to have my way with every sweet, sugary thing in sight. Just try to stop me

6. For now, I’m about to have my way with a lunch that consists of yogurt, some kind of frozen Lean Cuisine sandwich and a granola bar

7. I hope that will keep me away from my habit of going to McDonald’s later in the afternoon, desperately seeking fries and sweet tea

(**Tweet from writer Mat Johnson at 6:11 pm July 10)

The Midweek Muse (**”Drench yourself in splendor whenever possible. Good for the soul”)

1. I didn’t do a Sunday Spin this week because I was just too exhausted, and I figured that all three of my readers would understand (Hi, Mom! * jokes *)

2. Trying to become a homeowner is really kicking my butt, but I can’t wait for the day when I can walk into my own front door, paint my office bright red and grow tomatoes in my backyard

3. But for now, I have to deal with Craig and dem and the mysterious case of who’s baby’s sock just got mixed up in my laundry

4. You know what else is exhausting? Being in a funk, so that ish is over

5. I mean, there’s only so many times I can listen to Mary J Blige’s ‘I’m Going Down’ cd, or decry the fact that my Waiting to Exhale soundtrack skips so badly that Whitney’s ‘Why Does It Hurt So Bad’ sounds like it’s being performed by Charlie Brown’s schoolteacher

6. I have moved onto a constant diet of things that make me happy, like laughter, french fries, loud, misogonystic music and old episodes of Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman (yes, I was a rabid fan back in the day)

7. And more importantly, the tv show, Bridezillas. Dem heffas are crazy.


I hope everyone is having a great week!

(**Tweet from Terry McMillan at 1 a.m. July 13, 2010)

The Anti Yoga

I realized recently that I shouldn’t do yoga. I mean, yeah, I do it, but I’m not really the yoga type. I mean, I enjoy the workout and the feeling of cleansed toxins when I’m finished sweating in that 105 degree room. (I’m talking Bikram yoga, ya’ll) However, I’m not that cheery, nonviolent wholesome person that the exercise is geared toward. I mean, I will go into class with an attitude, especially after the check in lady tells me that I can no longer receive my student discount because they learned I’m older than 25. (seriously, I was 33 the last time I got my $2 discount, why are you being cute today?) Plus, I talk about people. It’s not in a mean way (not all the time anyhow), but sometimes my fellow exercisers just crack me up/annoy me/make me shake my head , so I need to vent, and that’s exactly what this post is going to be about.

My workout schedule consists of two types: spinning (bike riding) and occasional hot yoga. These are the types of people in my workout neighborhood:

-Water Boy: This guy always comes to spin class just a few minutes late, decked out in his finest spandex and carrying a small bag. He gets on his bike and manages to find a place to store at least three bottles of water. Yes, that’s right, three. Last time, I saw him put a bottle of water on the side holder of the bike, another on the center holder, and a third he carried and drank from throughout class. Instead of moving on to another bottle when he’s done with the one he’s carrying, he will leave class and go to the water fountain to refill his bottle, as if he doesn’t have backup water. You, my friend, get the Side Eye.

-Kinda Hyper/Kinda Drunk: My favorite person in spin class is Kay, because she’s always cheery and energetic, but not over the top (Mind you, it’s 6 a.m.) Well, now Kay has been upstaged by Mo, who is BEYOND hyper. The first day I met Mo, I had the distinct pleasure of having her bike placed beside mine. Our first introduction was when she tapped (yes, she put her hands on my body) to scream something like, “WE GOT THIS, STRENGTH!!! WE GOT THIS!!!” Another time, I had the pleasure of sitting between Kay and Mo as they performed some form of menopausal call and response (Think Tisha Campbell & A.J. Johnson from House Party, just the later years): Mo: WHERE YOU AT GIRL??? WHERE YOU AT???? Kay: I’M OVER HERE GIRL!! I’M OVER HERE! YOU CAN’T HANDLE THIIIIIIS!!” By the end of class, my eardrums had left the building. One day, a man in class was like “You know, Mo’s return to fitness is really wearing me out.” Ain’t that the truth. Then I found out that Mo goes to the same church as my parents and knows them very well. Sigh. I’m giving her two shots of ritalin and some decaf.

-Gross Man, Just Gross: My first trip to this hot yoga studio, I was running late and the teacher had to place my mat in the room while I put my stuff away. Perhaps the teacher decided to punish me, so she set up my mat behind a large, hairy barechested man wearing tiny shorts. I spent 90 minutes in 105-degree temperatures trying to focus on my own body, as opposed to the large tufts of curly back hair that greeted me, just a few feet away. The best part of class was when we had to do this pose, and I had the distinct pleasure of watching buckets of buckets of sweat pour from his furry body and land onto his mat. Yes, I was visually sodomized. Each time I think of it, I become a victim all over again. No means no, my friends.

--The Mother. I take spin class Monday, Wednesday and Friday and because I like routine, I tend to weigh myself before class. I mean, if I’m going to be in a 6 am class three days a week, I better be seeing some kind of results. Little did I know that Linda was watching me. “You know you look good, right?” she says to me one day after I get off the scale. “You shouldn’t be on the scale all the time like that. It’s unhealthy. There are so many people in here with eating disorders and I don’t want you to be one of them.” Clearly, she’d never seen me eat, nor did she know about my growing obsession with french fries and oatmeal raisin cookies. I told her she ahd nothing to worry about – that I was just anal – when I really wanted to tell her to mind her own business, since she’s on the scale as much as I am. I’m not a morning person, so it doesn’t take much to get me riled up.

--The Showoff. Now, if I’m in a free, beginner’s yoga class, I expect to be surrounded by beginners. Right? Right? Well now, a few experts came to this class I attended with my friend, and that’s fine. The thing that gets me is the chick in the front row, who couldn’t do a simple downward dog when the teacher asked. Oh no, she had to do her own routine, from the cobra to the locust poses, on down to the half tortoise and the camel. I wanted to tell her to teach the class, or LEAVE. But I kept it all inside. After all, yoga is supposed to channel your rage. Right? Psfh. Yeah right.

Well, that about sums up my exercise pet peeves. I imagine this is a list that will continue. I hope I haven’t scared Motown StepMom Girl away from yoga.

(Photo from http://mamrie.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/bikram-yoga.jpg )

The Sunday Spin (**"I've always liked my women book & street smart")

1. I went condo hunting today and fell in love with a spot that meets my requirements -- lots of space, good neighborhood

2. Let's just hope it doesn't get sold before I can dig my claws into it (since that's happened once already)

3. I'm slowly getting out of my funk, at least that's what I keep telling myself, but ...

4. I did buy a big ole thing of oatmeal raisin cookies and had my way with an insane number of them ...

5. And it is 9:30 and I just want to crawl into bed ...

6. But I didn't cry at all today, and that is progress!

7. Tomorrow I'll have to get my focus back, both on the thesis and draft #4 of my novel

Happy Fourth everybody!

(**'Fancy' by Drake)

The Sunday Spin (A Remix for a Moody Monday)

Today I am thankful for ...

1. Emergency weekend getaways

2. Good friends that allow me to cry on their shoulders

3. Holding a newborn! No matter how insomniatic (is that even a word?) she may be

4. My obsessive reading schedule which has been whittled down from four books (Jim the Boy, Plains of Passage, Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and Heart of the Matter) to two (Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and Heart of the Matter)

5. Good friends who allow my HBO-less self watch True Blood on their couch

6. The mamas of good friends who save me leftovers of fried chicken, corn on the cob and kale

7. A hearty greeting from my cat, who missed me desperately after two days. (Actually, he just wanted food, but I’ll take it where I can get it)


Have a good week everybody!

Craft Show Convos

At this weekend’s craft fair, I was on the hunt for a Father's Day gift and I was unsuccessful. But I got to look at several wonderful pieces of batik art. I even struck up a conversation with the Kenyan artist who created the pieces I'd been admiring. Actually, he did all the talking:

Artist: Dread! Hey Dread!
Me: (looking around, and seeing a dreadlocked man calling out to me) Umm, hey Dread to you too.
Artist: Why you get your hair like that?
Me: Because I felt like it.
Artist: You ain’t one of them rastafarians, are you?
Me: No.
Artist: Oh, good! I’m glad to hear that, my sister. Them rastafarians are crazy.
Me: (admiring a painting of a family) How much does this cost?
Artist: Hmph. Everywhere I go, people wanna ask me if I’m a rastafarian.
Me: I’m sorry to hear that. But how much does this cost?
Artist: I don’t know a thing about Haile Selaise!
Me: So you’re saying this is free, then? I can just walk off with it and you won’t mind?
Artist: Naw, it’s $40. Anyway, these rastas …
Me: Would I be able to get it framed?
Artist: Red, white and green is Africa’s colors, you hear me? They don’t have nothin to do with them rastas.
Me: Right. So $40 will get me the art and the frame?
Artist: Naw, that’ll cost you $60.
Me: I see. How much is this one over here?
Artist: I’m glad to hear you’re not rastafarian. People see you have dreadlocks, they think you one of them. Ain’t that crazy?
Me: This one is free too? Oh wow, thanks so much!
Artist: Naw sis, that one will be $30.
Me: Can I charge it?
Artist: I keep telling them I don’t worship no Haile Selaise. I only worship the Lord God above, sister.
Me: Right.
Artist: People take one look at you and think they know you. I hate that. Don’t you?
Me: Yeah.
Artist: Now, which one of these did you want? I do all my framing right here.
Me: Umm, that’s ok. I’m gonna look around some more. Maybe I’ll check your website.
Artist: Alright, sister. Just stay away from them rastafarians.

The Sunday Spin (**"Not to sound like a gay hairdresser, but I love when your hair is braided")

1. I had dinner with friends this weekend, and got terribly ill

2. I went to a craft festival, where I managed to find a few good buys in the midst of paintings and jewelry that cost $800 and up

3. Got my mouth all fixed for Subway's lemonade, only to spill it all over my living room table, soaking my papers and library books

4. But I did get alot of work done as part of my ongoing effort to put some organization to this whirlwind of an apartment

5. I'm making progress in my thesis, and right now I'm reading 'We Real Cool' by bell hooks

6. As part of my thesis, I emailed an author to see if she'd be willing to let me interview her as part of my project

7. She hasn't responded yet, and I've been checking my email like a bandit and hoping for the best

Have a good week everybody!

(**A coworker's comment to me)

A Moment of Poetry

As much as I love Alice Walker, I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't learn about this poem until today, when someone quoted lines from it on Twitter. I thought it was beautiful, so I thought I'd share. Enjoy!


Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts

by Alice Walker

Never offer your heart
to someone who eats hearts
who finds heartmeat
delicious
but not rare
who sucks the juices
drop by drop
and bloody-chinned
grins
like a God.

Never offer your heart
to a heart gravy lover.
Your stewed, overseasoned
heart consumed
he will sop up your grief
with bread
and send it shuttling
from side to side
in his mouth
like bubblegum.

If you find yourself
in love
with a person
who eats hearts
these things
you must do.

Freeze your heart
immediately.
Let him—next time
he examines your chest—
find your heart cold
flinty and unappetizing.

Refrain from kissing
lest he in revenge
dampen the spark
in your soul.

Now,
sail away to Africa
where holy women
await you
on the shore—
long having practiced the art
of replacing hearts
with God and Song.

(Poem copied via http://people.tribe.net/artemisss/blog/39343320-b036-486c-abdf-293ff2f5a135 )

Scribbles

I have to go to a ton of meetings for work, and at times, I get a little bored. In times when it's tough for me to avoid falling asleep, I tend to write my signature over and over again in my notebook, then give a pensive look to the speaker. This time, I just decided to do some freewriting in my notebook and it led to a bit of craziness that I'll share here.

This is all from a county budget hearing I had to attend about a month ago:

-Time to google new hairstyles -- A 'fro? twists? cornrows? Find some Dominicans to straighten it when need be?
-Hungry, tired and generally in a bad mood. Evil is more like it
-I am parked in level 3 of gotts parking garage
-Feeling like I should've bought a book
-But of course, I'd get caught and that wouldn't be a good look..
-not for me, not for anyone
-(Muscular government official) isn't here. Sad that I can't stare at the muscles in his back
-Does (female government official) look like Rachael Ray or am I nutso?
-Strength/Courage/Wisdom is cold and tired
-I wonder what her office looks like -- either pristine, or really dirty. Probably pristine
-Oh JOY TO THE WORLD!! His Hotness has arrived.


Certifiably insane rant #1
Meetings
long and boring
nothing accomplished
endless talk
yet you blame me
for sleeping?
You'd be lucky to join in
Call the Sandman.
He's missed you.


Certifiably insane rant #2
Why must I endure this
Boredom?
You drone on and on
No one's riveted
Or even amused
Budget hearings
SUCK.
It had to be said.
I ain't the first
or the last
to want outta this damn place

Certifiably insane rant #3
End this meeting
I beg you.
Your words are dribble
My energy has fizzled
For the love of God
Shut up!
I shake my fist
At bureacracy
racism
anti semitism
and now you
Because you won't shut up.

Certifiably insane rant #4
I'm dying
And no one cares
I'm cold
And they turned on the air
I'm suffering
Yet the meeting continues.
All I can do
is stay awake
And hope no one
ABSOLUTELY no one
looks at my notebook.


And my mission was accomplished. I did NOT fall asleep. Hooray!

The (Late, Late, Late) Sunday Spin

The last few weeks have been pretty rough and it's prevented me from blogging. I mean, I would've written about it, but I don't like to bring my laptop into my personal Cave of Despair. I'm doing much better now, and here are a few things that have been going on:

1. I've discovered Bikram yoga

2. Which means I've stood in a 105-degree room with sweaty, half-naked people and tried to bend like a pretzel

3. Despite the feelings of nausea

4. The odor

5. And being waaaaay too close to sweaty strangers

6. I actually kinda liked it

7. I went to my first Catholic funeral a few weeks ago (big boss's husband died suddenly)

8. Did you know that they all drink out of the same cup during communion?

9. And that they only want Catholics to participate in the communion?

10. Well, I didn't know that

11. So I ate the body

12. Skipped on the blood

13. And probably got 457485478 dirty looks for not doing the sign of the cross

14. My latest addiction has been my spinning class

15. That's 6 am torture every Monday Wednesday and Friday

16. Lots of good music and adrenalin to start the day

17. And I've lost eight pounds as a result

18. Fun times

Have a good week everybody!


Photo from http://static.open.salon.com/files/late!1231121575.gif

Black & White Pictures

I’ve always been fascinated with my paternal grandfather. He died when my dad was a little boy and there was little mention of him in the household. Dad and his siblings always got tightlipped whenever I or my cousins had questions about him. How is Aunt D your sister when you guys have different mothers? My daddy’s her daddy. Where is your daddy? In heaven. What was your daddy like? You ask too many questions.

We grew up and they kind of relaxed with their daddy issues. I heard a few fond memories of my grandfather. He liked to smoke – he died of lung cancer. He also liked for his kids to run their fingers through his hair as they read to him. He died during an epic snowstorm that hit our town sometime in the 1960s or 1970s.

Despite all this knowledge, I was an adult the first time I saw a picture of him. I was 22 and I was visiting my Aunt D’s house shortly after my father’s death. There was a picture of these men standing in a circle and someone told me that the dude on the end, the one with the big smile was my grandfather. It was jarring to see a picture of this mystery man looming so large, especially since I’d had to tread so lightly on topics surrounding him before. I noticed that granddad resembled my father, but also looked EXACTLY like my uncle, one of my father’s two surviving ‘half’* siblings. (Another daughter, who was born the same year as my dad, died as a child) The best part of the picture was my grandfather’s feet. They naturally poked out sideways instead of in, the sign of a true slewfoot. Just like my dad, and just like me.

Recently, another one of my aunts posted some old pictures on Facebook, and I saw a second photo of my grandfather. This time he was standing in front of a school on graduation day in a dark suit looking very serious, along with a couple of other people that are relatives I don’t remember. He’s standing in front of a school named after a man who is semi famous in my hometown, a freed slave who helped others escape and move north. According to my aunt’s photo caption, this historical figure is also one of my great great grands. Hmmm…..

So now it’s time to ask some more questions. I wonder if I can unearth even more photos of my grandfather. I wonder how exactly we're related to this historical figure. And more importantly, I wonder if this new mystery man was also a slewfoot. The plot thickens. I love family history!



*'Half' is in quotes because my dad didn’t like to refer to his siblings this way. He always said he just had brothers and sisters, not half this and half that.

The Sunday Spin (**"Turn your face to the sun, and let the shadows fall behind you.")

1. Today was No Bra, Just Sweats Day, and I celebrated accordingly

2. Didn't do my hair or put a stitch of makeup on my face

3. I was exhausted by my OUTSTANDING 24-hour trip to NYC, which allowed me to get on Weekend Today (Did you see me??) and catch actor Corbin Bleu ('High School Musical') in the play, 'In The Heights'

4. But we weren't able to see Today's Lester Holt, which was my friend's main reason for going, we'll have to try again

5. I learned recently that my ex is engaged, and that's made me more emotional than I care to admit

6. But I did wish him well, and I meant it

7. At least I think I did.

(**Twitter quote from LL Cool J from 9:19 pm 2/15/10)

Yes, They've Finally Made Me Bonkers

To All of My Coworkers:

I sit near the printer
I do not fix jams
Nor do I replace toner
If your document didn’t print
Take it up with management.
Again, I only sit near the printer

How is your paper jam my problem?
You think I know the right way to hit it
The divine secret behind making it spit
Newsflash: I DON’T
So I’ll keep giving you a blank stare
Or my frown, my terrible thug mug
Until you get a clue
And go away.

I sit next to the printer
So when you print your credit report
Your elaborate expenses
Your fudged time sheets
Your receipts for your mistress
Guess who has the first peek?
That would be me.
Let’s work together, shall we?

Photo from http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/funny-pictures-your-printer-has-a-kitten-in-it.jpg

The (Late) Sunday Spin (**‘Church was Great. It’s like God told the pastor my secrets & then I got a good loving talking to straight from upstairs")

1. I had a one-day weekend, which is why this post is late

2. That one-day weekend was held on Sunday, which was spent househunting

3. It’s amazing the things that can turn you off of a neighborhood immediately

4. Like the sight of a woman with an unfortunate shade of burgundy hair

5. Or a bulletin board notice that gives notification of a sex offender living a few doors down

6. Or folks that look like they would kill you for parking too close to their car

7. But I survived, and the hunt continues!

(**Twitter quote from singer Chrisette Michelle**)

The Sunday Spin (*"I see a white door, and I'm going to paint it red")

1. Today was Eat All Your Leftovers Or Throw Them Out Day

2. So a few minutes ago, I gorged on turkey burgers, beans and broccoli

3. And now I feel quite full

4. I recently committed to going to the gym regularly again, ideally four days a week

5. That led to the discovery of a 6 am spinning class offered Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at my gym

6. "My name is Mark, and I'm an animal", was how the instructor introduced himself to me

7. He wasn't lyin

(*Tweet from actress Rachel True at 6:18 am Jan 27, 2010*)

On Reunions, Teen Rebellions & Absolutely NOT Driving Drunk

I’m truly convinced Heather hates me.

Heather and I go way back, we’re cool peeps. I knew her back when folks were just starting to realize how much she resembled Winona Ryder. She knew me when I started my first act of rebellion – shaving my legs against my mother’s wishes. (Deep scandal, I know) We roamed that hallowed hell of high school together and we’re all the better for it.

Every once in awhile, I’ll hear from her. We’ll catch up through email on what we’ve been up to and how our lives have turned out. I’m satisfied with knowing that we’re both doing well, but she always has to push the convo one step further and ask the dreaded question – will I be available for the high school reunion? There’s one big convo ender for me.

I have nothing against high school reunions. I went to my five year and had a pretty decent time. I found that as much as things changed, they remained the same. No matter how much all of us tried to stretch beyond the barriers of our usual cliques, a lot of us simply evolved into the adult era of cliquedom: The Marrieds, The Singles, The Parents, The Screw Ups Who Became Somebody, The Somebodies Who Became Screw Ups, etc. It was that single event that helped me realize that I didn’t need any more high school people in my life. I didn’t want to be surrounded around people who knew me When. I wanted to be surrounded by people who know me Now. No more high school reunions for me.

The closest I got to a reunion was a few years ago when a close friend, It’s Always the Quiet Ones, got married to a new boyfriend after calling off her first wedding. A bunch of us got caught up on our lives, high-school reunion style, when the convo turned to our friend Bubbly, who wasn’t there. I’d been living out of state and had been out of touch with all that had been happening in Bubbly’s life – new career, marriage, kids … and the fact that her younger sister had been killed by a drunk driver the year before.

It shocked me because I’ll always remember Bubbly’s Sister as the cute babyfaced girl who followed her sister everywhere. The two of them were very close and I’ll never forget how hurt Bubbly’s Sister was when Bubbly started dating the Absolute Wrong Guy. Thankfully, she didn’t marry him, and their relationship survived.

Bubbly and I were able to catch up through Facebook recently and I was able to send my condolences, albeit they came about six years after the fact. Each year, she and her family participate in the MADD walk to celebrate her sister’s memory and raise money to get drunken drivers off of the streets. The event is being held next month and I signed up. It’s Always The Quiet Ones may attend, along with some other folks from our teenage circle. I’m looking forward to raising money for a good cause and catching up with old friends, sans the judgment and the cattiness.

So it looks like a mini high school reunion is being formed after all, one on our own terms. Don’t tell Heather.

Photo from http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/amc0300l.jpg

The Sunday Spin ("I wish I liked anything as much as white people love The Wire"**)

1. The weather has been so beautiful, that it's hard to believe that this was my life just two months ago

2. And in just another two months, I imagine this will be my reality yet again, since the cost to repair my car's air conditioning is more than I'm willing to spend

3. I'm hearing mixed reviews about the newest Tyler Perry flick, 'Why Did I Get Married Too'

4. One friend called it an abortion of a movie, another said it showed how communication was key in relationships

5. I'm extremely excited about what's going to happen in the next half hour

6. And that'll be the series premiere of Treme, the latest HBO flick

7. I've also been enjoying an older HBO series -- Rome -- on dvd. Oh Netflix, how I love thee!

Have a great week everybody!

(**Writer Mat Johnson via Twitter at 6:12 p.m. 12/27/09)

Hard Dick vs Soft Bubblegum (Is There Really Any Choice?)

The oversharing award of the week goes to my baby cousin, who kept us all on the edge of our seats as to whether or not she would be staying with her children’s father. (They have three kids, ages 3,2, and 1) She announced that if he wasn’t trying to put a ring on it by the end of the week, she’d be gone. And lo and behold, I open facebook one day to learn that she is single. That was followed up with a status message that said something like “After eight years, I’m tired of a life of hard dick & bubblegum. I need a real man to take care of me and my kids.”

After reading this update, it was clear to me that I needed to provide some guidance to my relative. Clearly, the girl needed me. So I promptly sent her my comment: “Never underestimate the power of good bubblegum.”

Now, you may think it’s amusing, but there is power in those little sticks. I mean, at least they're long lasting. Whenever there was hardship in my life, I turned to gum. Maybe it’s for the simple fact that growing up, my mother was strict and refused to give me any candy. And maybe it’s for the fact that the Neighborhood Candy Lady knew my mother’s rules and did everything she could to corrupt me. Or maybe it’s for the simple fact that I have little self control over some things. Here are a few examples:

*Bubblicious: Yeah, this is an old school treat, but it hits the spot. I was going to a brutal personal trainer sometime in 2003-2004. He developed this great workout plan for me, one that required my meals to consist of nothing more than four smoked turkey slices for breakfast, fat free yogurt for a snack, salad of nothing more than letttuce and tomatoes for lunch, and dinner of chicken and green beans. Eventually, I learned that some people were given treats in their meals, like oatmeal! And apples! I became so angry that I would sit in a little corner and chew my sorrows away on Bubblicious. God help anyone who asked me for a piece.

*Orbitz, Trident: Ever worked at a job that wreaked of misery, but your coworkers were pretty darn cool? That was me a few years ago…. And who am I kidding? It’s me now. The most exciting part of my job was the constant moving around – from a quaint house that once was a children’s store to a small office that shared a wall with a tutoring center and finally to a massive corporate building that had a convenience store attached. We went to the convenience store several times a day, and our prized possessions were gum. Rumors of a hostile takeover? Orbitz! A supervisor quit? Trident! Your project is being dismantled? Dentyne! Someone else is sleeping with a boss and getting promoted? Dentyne on Ice!

These days, my go-to gum has been Stride. It comes with quite a zingy scent that fills up my purse whenever I open it. Here’s how the gum helps me these days:

*Trey Songz: Ever heard him sing ‘You Belong To Me’, ‘I Invented Sex’ or my personal life story ‘Neighbors Know My Name’? Ummm …. Yeah. Ever seen the videos? Schwooo. Do I even need to explain? Everytime he comes on, I turn the station and pop two pieces of orange flavored Stride.

*My Neighbors: Yes, Trey Songz wrote a song about me. I am the neighbor forced to listen to the people above me get down and dirty whenever the moment strikes them. Yes, I know his name. It's actually Mike. Not Ohhh!!! Or Ohhhhhh God!!!, which I thought it was before. Three slices of the red Stride, please. And hurry.

*The Tudors: Jonathan Rhys Meyers wearing next to nothing, speaking old English and screwing any female that moves? Time to cancel HBO and indulge in five packs of the peppermint flavor.

You see? Choosing a life of bubblegum is not that difficult. Unfortunately, Baby Cuz wasn’t interested in my lifestyle choices. She and ole boy are back together again. Next time I see her, she better not even think of asking me for any gum.

(Photo from http://halfninja.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/stride.jpg)

The Sunday Spin ("What's the qualification to get a job as a music critic? My drunk uncle Pooky can do that job."** )

1. I woke up this morning (well, afternoon if you want to get technical about it) and decided that 33 is going to be my year

2. That means I'll be having a Labor Day party at my own house or condo

3. That I'll complete a draft of my thesis this summer, and go into the fall semester just putting the finishing touches on it so I can complete my program by December

4. That I'll be putting some serious thought into self publishing these short stories I've written over the years. If anyone has any advice on self publishing, please let me know.

5. In the meantime, I had a fabulous belated birthday weekend where my parentals treated me to a dinner at the steakhouse of my choice, where I gorged on a meal of lambchops, spinach, sweet potato casserole with peacans and a smidgen of chocolate cake

6. My mommy treated me like a kid by presenting my gifts in an Easter basket, but I was happy to get it, especially those jelly beans!!!

7. Be sure to return in the upcoming week for future posts about the power of bubblegum, liner notes and whatever other deep thoughts come to me

Have a good week everyone!

**Quote from Erykah Badu, via Twitter, 10:51 p.m., April 3, 2010**

Discovering Greatness ... A Little Too Late

I didn't know the Undercover Black Man, but I wish I did. I was only vaguely familiar with his blog, but I've been going there reading the archives quite frequently after learning that UBM, an alter ego for TV writer David Mills, died from a brain aneurysm this past week.

His name didn't ring any bells with me as I read the various obituaries and tributes that ran in different newspapers. It's surprising that I wasn't familiar with him, since he did go to my alma mater, worked with David Simon, another distinguished alumnus, and was a writer for both Homicide: Life on the Streets and The Wire, which was one of my favorite programs. He was also set to work with Simon on Treme, an HBO show that seems to deal with life in post-Katrina New Orleans. He wrote his last blog post about the show, along with several others.

I'm ashamed to say that I've only been perusing the blog after learning about his death. But I do have some favorite posts, like the one where he lists recording artists who were convicted of murder; 'Run, N-gger Run', where he lists the lyrics of a catchy old time tune; and one where he calls out folks for pretending to be Indian. He also provided little known historical data, like giving a bio on the country's first non white vice president.

I've been late in discovering greatness before. I was an adult before I read 'Go Tell it On the Mountain' and 'Giovanni's Room', the latter helping me realize how much I loved James Baldwin. And just last year, my guitar teacher has got me playing songs by the Beatles and their tracks are in constant rotation (John Lennon was THE TRUTH). I'm now learning 'Don't Let Me Down', which faces stiff competition from 'My Life' for being my favorite Beatles song. (I've become so enamored with them that a friend has nicknamed me The Ladybug)

I had already known I was going to watch Treme when it premieres in a few weeks. But now I'll do so with the UBM, or David Mills, in mind. Rest in peace, Mr. Mills.

Today's Lesson: Work Hard, Nap Harder

I don't go back to work until Wednesday, and I've truly been enjoying my time away from the office. That doesn't mean I haven't been productive. In the past few days, I've managed to do my taxes, work on my thesis, plead to get reinstated into the grad program in the fall, pay bills and get my daily writing tasks in.

But there comes a time when you've just got to lay back on that bed and let the sandman take over. Most of my life, I didn't like naps. When I was a kid, I never wanted to go to bed. I mean, who did? As an adult, I thought naps were a waste of time. I was usually too wired up to nap anyway. And if I were to nap, I was the rare person who needed to fool myself into believing it was nighttime in order to go to sleep. That meant putting on some pajamas, closing the shades and getting under the covers. I'm so glad I got out of that foolishness.

Nowadays, the only thing I need to put me into a coma is my cat. There are times when I'll be watching television and The Animal just hops up beside me and closes his eyes. That makes me jealous and next thing I know, I'm out for the count. That happened at least twice today. I had a good night's sleep, mind you. Then I took a nap at 4 p.m., followed by another one at 5:15 p.m. All because of my lovely pet. And because his latest game is to follow me where ever I may go and cuddle up to me, naps may become an increasing part of my life. I can't say I'm complaining.


Photo from http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/strollerderby/2007/07/16-22/nap%20time.jpg

The Sunday Spin (Or, "They sleep; I grind"**)

1. I had a FABULOUS birthday weekend

2. It started with seeing my homie in a play (she did a FANTASTIC job, I might add)

3. And it ended just a few minutes ago, with some delicious sushi

4. That was almost enough to make me forget the meeting I had with my professor

5. The one where she told me she wanted to nominate me for a significant monetary award, but couldn't, because I haven't been enrolled in the program

6. My response was to enroll in the fall, get back on my thesis grind and hope upon hopes that this money becomes available in the fall (apparently that is a possibility)

7. Now I'm sitting back, flipping between Celebrity Apprentice and How to Make It in America (Bryan Greenberg + Victor Rasuk = YUM) and am so glad that I don't have to work tomorrow.

Have a good week everybody!

**Quote from Erykah Badu, via Twitter, at 5:28 a.m. February 24, 2010**

Celebrate World Tuberculosis Day (Or, Celebrate My Birthday)

So today was my birthday and what did I do? For the first time EVER, I went to work. I only did that because I've been taking homeownership classes which are right near my office, so I figured I might as well work. I am off the rest of the week though, so that's good.

I have a coworker who said she always goes to work on her birthday, just to feel special from all the people who wish her a happy birthday. I thought she was pretty pathetic until this year. Now, I can be pretty obnoxious about my special day, but I'd like to think I'm only that way with friends and family, NOT the coworkers. If it weren't for Facebook, alot of folks wouldn't have known today was my day. But they figured it out, and here is how they made me feel special:

-A friend hand delivered to me a breakfast from Whole Foods -- French toast, eggs and bacon, along with my favorite Kiwi Strawberry drink
-Coworker tied a HUGE 'Happy Birthday' balloon to my chair and gave me a happy birthday pin, so I got more than my fair share of happy birthdays
-My immediate supervisor made cupcakes -- WITH 33 CANDLES ON EM!! -- and brought them out to me. I even managed to blow them all out. There's still some air left in me!
-My supervisor also gave me a snazzy pink scarf and a card from Hoops & Yoyo at Hallmark
-My aunt wrote my a birthday poem

So yeah, it all made me feel warm and fuzzy inside! And that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the number of phone calls, texts, emails and Facebook messages I got for my special day. Now I'm sitting back, waiting for my birthday pizza to arrive, and thinking about how I'll celebrate this weekend, because, as you know, birthdays are a weeklong celebration. =)

Random factoids about March 24:
-Tommy Hilfiger, Peyton Manning and Alyson Hanigan all share my birthday (So does Star Jones, but I don't brag about that one)
-The movie 'The Breakfast Club' takes place on one of my birthdays. It opens up with the line 'March 24, 198---' I can't remember which year, I think it was 1987. Shrug
-March 24 is also World Tuberculosis Day
-March 24, 1980 was sadly the day Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador was killed. I remember learning about this in Spanish class and being traumatized that such a horrible event could happen on such a wonderful day

Anyway, 33 has been treating me well so far. I look forward to having a healthy and prosperous Jesus year!

(Photo from http://www.thelifeofriley.org/uploads/images/birthday_33.jpg)

The Sunday Spin

1. I'm so happy the weather has finally broke, time to unleash the skin

2. I'm borderline OCD, so each March I'm faced with the same challenge -- to do a bracket or not

3. This year, I took i there: I've got three brackets going, two paid & one unpaid

4. Let's just say it doesn't look like I'll be winning any prizes, monetary or not (Big thanks going out to Kentucky, Georgetown, Maryland)

5. I have to spend the day after my birthday chatting with a professor I greatly admire, and greatly fear

6. The United States of Tara comes back on tomorrow and I'm too excited about that!

7. My local Blockbuster closed, so I switched back to Netflix. Now watching Damages Season 2. Glenn Close plays evil so well!

Have a good week everybody!

For Dreadlocked Girls Who Have Considered Scissors & Relaxers When The Hairdresser Has Had Enough

My world stopped last week when my hairdresser called. She was having an emergency and wouldn't be able to do my hair that evening. The situation was so dire, that she didn't know when she would be able to do my hair again. So I did what I could do, I comforted Hairdresser, offered words of support, then I hung up the phone and ....

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SCREAMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You see, Hairdresser is a close family friend. Ok, ok, she's family. There was a time when she had her own shop and I was comforted by the nice, easy banter among us women. Sure, I was often abused ('How long are you gonna make me stay here tonight & deal with your wool, Strength?'), interrogated ('Do you have a goal for this hair? Your locs are already down your back!') and teased ('Is this a gray hair or is this your cat? Oh, it's a gray hair!'). My favorite part of the shop was the way said Hairdresser would greet me, with a hand on her hip and a firm "What do you want?"

But all good things must come to an end, I guess. Economics forced Hairdresser to close up shop and start working at The Hair Shop and Salon. Things are different there. For example, someone answers the phone with a robotic "Thank you for calling the Hair Shop and Salon, where we experience beauty and wellness. What are your wellness needs today?"Each time someone washes your hair they say something like "It was my pleasure to service you." Have I mentioned how much they charge? I mean, I expected to pay a pretty penny for this thick head of hair. But they charge extra for EVERYTHING. An extra $10 just to cut the strands off the locs? Seriously?

So when The Hairdresser couldn't do my hair, that left me with few options. I could either go to The Hair Shop or do it myself. (Or obey my mother and get a relaxer) Clearly, I chose the latter. I've washed and styled my own hair before, but I try to avoid doing it because it's such a time consuming process. Thankfully, I did a lot of googling and youtube research to find the best way to get through this head.

Things actually went well, especially since I'm madly in love with my shampoo. I washed, I twisted, I oiled, I blowdryed, I cornrowed. Boy, it took some time! But I managed to get this head in one big ole braid and got nothing but compliments the next day. Hooray!

But I truly need my Hairdresser to return to locking form, with a quickness.


Photo from http://www.naani.com/contents/media/6fd42c7c0.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. It has been a great week, which started out with the birth of Baby Extreme!

2. Baby Extreme was originally supposed to be born on my favorite holiday, but she just couldn't wait.

3. I guess I'll forgive the little tyke, since she was born on Robin Thicke's birthday, and ya'll know how I feel about him.

4. It's a three-day weekend for me, since tomorrow is a furlough day, so I spent today hanging out with my girls

5. Corey Haim's death has saddened me, and it makes me want to see 'Lucas' once again

6. A purse caught my eye at the Kenneth Cole store this weekend, and even though I left it there

7. I'm gonna go right back and buy it. That purse has been haunting my dreams, and hey, it's my birthday month! Time to spoil me!

Have a good week!

The Sunday Spin (or Your Screaming Orgasm vs My Stereo?)

1. I'm happy to report that I finally took the comprehensive exam that will take me one step closer to my master's degree
2. A 6-hour test ain't no joke, ya'll
3. Once it was over, I literally cleared my table of all my notes and dumped them in the trash. So I better have passed!
4. My loud upstairs neighbors had the nerve to report me to our leasing company, saying that I WAS TOO LOUD
5. That forced me to have a chat with them where I let them know everything I hear -- snoring, footsteps, the TV, whole conversations, them having sex
6. Dude finally understood where I was coming from and we shook on it. I'm so glad it didn't get ugly
7. I need to go clothes shopping in the worst way, but I'm not finding anything. Sigh.

Have a good week!

So Long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodnight

Well, February, you were the best of times, you were the worst of times.

You brought epic amounts of snow to my little patch of home. You caused me to eat much more than I thought humanly possible. Your winds shook my apartment, rattled my little car and whipped through me as I headed off somewhere to eat or sleep.I reached a level in my Seasonal Affective Disorder that I didn't know existed. February, you were brutal.

However, there were some bright spots. You did bring back the return of my much awaited Lost. I did have good music this month – Sade and Corinne Bailey Rae. And some of your epic snowstorms actually prevented me from going to work on days when I really didn’t want to go. For that, February, I thank you.

But I do think my biggest accomplishment this month is the new lease I signed on my apartment complex. Now, I no longer have a yearlong commitment to the lovely people who run my complex. That means, for a rent increase of nearly $40, I am on a month to month policy. I can give these mofos .. errr, lovely people, a two month notice on when I’m vacaating the premises and they can like it or lump it. This simple move is one of the many steps I’ve taken toward homeownership. I checked out a pile of library books on the subject – I’ll get to them after my exam this weekend – and I’m signing up for weekly homeownership classes that meet Wednesday evenings this month. Good times.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty I’ll miss about my apartment building. We’ve been together since 2006. Hanging tough. I like the fact that maintenance can come and fix any serious problems (albeit leave the door unlocked when they do). I like that my neighbor’s 5-year-old daughter feels comfortable enough with me that she can bang on my door when no one answers the door at her place. I can enjoy the soothing sounds of my upstairs neighbor’s snoring and constant passion with his woman, almost as much as I enjoy his coming downstairs to to tell me when my music or television is too loud. I can’t begin to express the gratitude I feel for that person/people who smokes on the steps, goes through my newspaper and tosses it around, or leaves our conrolled entrance door unlocked so that the entire town can come in and have a good time.

So, dear February, it’s been real. But like with my current place of residence, it is time to say goodbye.

Photo from http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/0f/39/c2/lawn-in-winter.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. Look at me. I'm exhaustion.

2. Exhaustion is having to read/study nonstop in order to take a big time test this weekend

3. Exhaustion is trying to study, while working non stop

4. But I'll get through it, 'cause soon as I write this post, I'm going to bed

5. And then I'll be up at 5 a.m. so I can do more studying and work on draft 3 of my own book

6. In my test reading material, I'm now reading Virginia Woolf's 'To The Lighthouse,' which is pretty good in a crazy, stream of consciousness kind of way

7. And for those of you who were paying attention to last week's #7, my favorite movie is The Last Dragon. (I've mentioned that before) Anyway, they're trying to remake it with Rihanna. I do like her, but I've got mixed feelings abut her playing this part. Ah well.

Have a good week!

Happy?

I was always the type of kid that got into stuff I shouldn’t have. By stuff, I’m talking about books. I can’t remember a time in my life where I wasn’t able to delve into my mother’s massive book collection. No subject was off limits – I read novels with their fair share of violence, cursing, sex and anything else that most folks want to shield from a kid’s eyes. But I was lucky to have a mother who was just grateful that I was reading, so she never censored anything I’d read.

So I was particularly young when I started reading Terry McMillan. At the time, she was the only contemporary black author around that I felt comfortable reading. Toni Morrison was too far over my head; same goes for Alice Walker. (things have changed and I’ve learned to love their work) I was more comfortable reading about the dysfunctional family in Mama, the on-again, off-again lovers in Disappearing Acts and the friendships in Waiting to Exhale.

Waiting to Exhale wasn’t my favorite Terry book; I thought it was just okay. But I was pleased to see it being made as movie and went to see it opening weekend, if I do remember correctly. Disappearing Acts was my favorite book – actually that’s in a close tie with Mama – and I still have the HBO movie version of the book on a VHS tape somewhere. I learned recently that Terry has written a sequel to W2E and that’ll be released this fall. ‘Getting To Happy’ will revisit the women 15 years from where they left off in the original book.

Let me just give that a big fat no. Albeit, I have an immediate bias against sequels that come like hundreds of years after the original (i.e. Back to the Future 2; Sisters & Husbands, the sequel to Connie Briscoe’s Sisters & Lovers, etc). I mean, if it takes the writers that long to figure out the plot, what makes me think it’s going to be any good? So already my expectations for W2E 2 are low, very low.

The thing about it is, I can’t think of many characters in that book with a storyline worth revisiting. Maybe Robin, who wound up pregnant and abandoned by her married lover, yet in the book was giving overweight Michael a second chance. (the latter was overlooked in the movie). Gloria (Loretta Devine’s character) seemed like she was getting the happy ending she was looking for and Savannah was being open minded about dating again. Bernadine (Angela Bassett) had started living with a new man (portrayed by Wesley Snipes in the movie). I wonder if a sequel to the book will mean a sequel to the movie too? Hmmm.

I’ve been proven wrong before, I’d be happy to be proven wrong again. In all honesty, I think W2E might have been the last Terry book I’ve read. I loved the movie version of How Stella Got Her Groove Back, but I never read the book. I do remember that the movie helped me realize that Angela Bassett is THE TRUTH. Generally, cigarrettes gross me out, but I desperately wanted to smoke one with her when she set her husband’s clothes on fire. There was a lot of passion behind those puffs.

I do remember W2E being one of the few times back then where black folks were on the big screen and there was no gunfire. I enjoyed that. It was also the first in a long line of examples I saw of somewhat similar stories that portrayed black woman as being unhappily single because all black men are gay/on drugs/in prison/dogs/into white women/etc. I didn’t enjoy that.

But I’m interested in seeing what the new W2E will bring. Listen to Terry talk about it here.

Photo from http://blogs.bet.com/entertainment/whattheflick/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/angela-bassett-waiting_l.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. I didn't have to work my part-time gig today, so this has been my Overindulgence Day

2. That means I got 12 hours of sleep

3. I cooked and consumed a massive breakfast -- eggs, turkey bacon, oatmeal and tea

4. I also ate a massive amount of oatmeal raisin cookies on the Eve of Overindulgence Day

5. Now I'm forcing myself to go to the gym and study

6. March 6 is D.Day for me -- as in I have to take a comprehensive exam that is required for me to get my master's degree. Then I'll have to focus on that pesky thesis.

7. Did you hear that Terry McMillan has written a sequel to Waiting to Exhale, and it will be published this fall? And did you hear about what they're trying to do to my favorite movie of all times? If the answer is no to either one of these questions, best believe I will be providing my thoughts in upcoming posts.

Now it's off to the gym! Have a good week everyone!

"These Hips Are Magic Hips ..."

I was saddened to hear about the death of poet Lucille Clifton recently. Poetry is very hit or miss for me. Generally, I enjoy it, alot, especially when the writer is the one doing the reading. But I don't go out of my way to read poetry collections (Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni and Georgia Douglas Johnson are the exception) or attend readings. This could be a side effect from a few years before when I thought I was dropping in on a brief spoken word event, which, instead, turned out to be THREE HOURS of someone screaming, then whispering their words. I'm still recovering.

Anyway, I was familiar with Lucille Clifton because she lived in my old neighborhood. However, I wasn't exposed to her poetry until maybe a year or so ago during a fiction class. My professor gave us a copy of her poem 'Here rests', which basically summed up her sister's life and personality in a few lines. The poem resonated with me because in some ways her sister reminded me of my Aunt BG, who is now in a nursing home raising all sorts of hell. (Let's just say that one nurse learned the hard way about telling my aunt to put out a cigarette.) Here's the poem:

here rests

by Lucille Clifton

my sister Josephine

born july in '29

and dead these 15 years

who carried a book

on every stroll.

when daddy was dying

she left the streets

and moved back home

to tend him.

her pimp came too

her Diamond Dick

and they would take turns

reading

a bible aloud through the house.

when you poem this

and you will she would say

remember the Book of Job.

happy birthday and hope

to you Josephine

one of the easts

most wanted.

may heaven be filled

with literate men

may they bed you

with respect.

With poetry, I'm a big believer in hearing it READ by the writer, versus reading it yourself. So here's some audio of her doing a 'Homage to my Hips', which is where the title for this blog post was taken. But don't stop there. Please check out 'Miss Rosie', 'Blessing the Boats' and 'Wishes for Sons'. And take a moment to see her in action. Rest in peace, Miss Lucille.

The Sunday Spin (or, The Ice Age Is Melting)

1. Apparently, I'm not the only one who was hit with cabin fever this past week

2. Every place I attempted to go -- Potbelly's, IHOP, the mall, anywhere even NEAR the mall -- was jam packed with wall to wall people.

3. I guess that snowstorm helped us all realize what's really important

4. Money, and spending it

5. The large crowds were enough to sway me from spending a significant amount of cash

6. Let's just say I managed to eat well and watch Four Christmases, which I thought was hilarious

7. Happy Valentine's Day everybody!

The Quiet Storm (or All My Single Ladies ...)

When news spread that my region was going to be hit with a record-breaking storm, everyone crowded their grocery stores, gas stations and prepared to lock themselves in with the bare necessities. God forbid you be trapped inside without toilet paper. Or eggs. Or popcorn. Or movies.

But then an even bigger fear arises – what are you going to do, if you are trapped inside *gasp* ALONE??

A few people asked me what I’d do during this period, since I live alone. Was I going to stay with my parents, establish a bunker with some friends? How would I survive? Just fine, thank you very much. And here’s how you can too.

So, All My Single Ladies, listen up. Here’s how you to can make the best of being inside by your lonesome as the Snowtorius B.I.G. knocks on your door:

-Remember the important things:
Look around and realize that you have everything that you need right there, most importantly, POWER. That means you can blast Sade, Corinne Bailey Rae, your Bob Marley 3-disc collection as loud and as often as you want. Who’s gonna complain? Let’s face it, your neighbors are too busy shoveling, having sex, beating the hell out of their kids, or screaming at each other to worry about the noise you’re making.

-Shovel, girl. Shovel: The first day of the storm it was myself and two other women shoveling ourselves out of our parking spaces. Mr. Bad Element walked by several times to tell us we were doing it wrong, that it would take forever and to make fun of our shovel technique. Yet by the time he returned from the liquor store, he and his drunken entourage of delinquents marveled at how much I cleared off of my space while their cars remained immersed in the white stuff. Yeah, my back, leg, arm and a region in my left hip/lower back/butt cheek are sore, but Mr. Bad Element was shamed, and that's all that matters.

-Never forget that you’re a lady: That’s my golden rule. No matter how much snow has fallen, I have remained true to my fashion plate status. On my first day of working from home, I was dressed in what I call my sexy outfit. I’m talking about my wife beater (I know I shouldn’t use that term, but you’ll just have to forgive me. I have cabin fever), blue leggings and white head rag. I showered, then switched it up to my Detroit t-shirt, BLACK leggings and RED head rag. Today, day two of working from home, I’m wearing gray sweatpants, a fuschia cami and NO head rag. Gotta keep it interesting. And sexy. Also, remember to shower and/or bathe often. You’re only as good as your last stick of deodorant.

-Don’t crack under pressure: After days of being indoors and only being able to socialize with your neighbor – and your cat, who may or may not be tired of you, depending on his mood –you may feel the heebie jeebies settle in. Just the other day, I was in my bed trying to get my beloved pet to play with me, but he just sat there and stared. I was hurt. I put on my glasses and realized that I hadn’t been talking to a cat, but a box! Which leads me to my final point ….

-Never let the snow turn you into a slob: Seriously. If the laundry must pile up, keep it in the hamper. Don’t spread it out on the floor into intricate piles that you intend on handling. Those clothes you plan on sending to the Salvation Army? Pack em up, don’t leave them on the floor simply because you paid way too much for that coat you boat in the ‘90s. That’s not vintage, bitch!

*Steps off of soapbox*

I hope my guidelines help. And rest assured, this epic blizzard will be over soon, despite *gulp* a forecast of even more snow this weekend. In the meantime, I’ll leave you all with the same desperate plea I shouted to my mother after she left me for my first day of day care: “GET ME OUTTA THIS DAMN PLACE!!!” Hopefully you all won’t give me the whoopin that she did.


Photo from http://www.csmonitor.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/media/images/1228-snow-shoppers-east-coast/7160509-1-eng-US/1228-snow-shoppers-east-coast_full_380.jpg

It's My 4th Blog Day!

Today marks the fourth anniversary of the day I started this blog. And what a coincidence, Sade's latest album made its debut today as well, almost as a blog day gift to myself. Hooray!

So aside from listening to the Soldier of Love cd constantly (get it, it's worth it! she kills me with every track), I'm sitting here watching the snow fall. Yes, I'm still in blizzard territory and yes, the white stuff is putting a hurting on all of us mere minions. It started snowing after work and it has let up a little bit now, but it's supposed to get worse in the morning. I've already decided that I'm working from home tomorrow, if I even work at all. Of course, my car made that decision for me, since it's stuck in it's spot. Fun. And right now, all I can see is the driver side mirror of the car parked next to mine, since that one is almost totally covered in snow.

Anyway, such a wild and crazy way to celebrate being four years old! I know I haven't blogged much this past year, but I'm slowly trying to change. Thanks for sticking in with me for these last four years. Something tells me that 2010 is gonna be a great one!

Movie Alert: Temple Grandin

Like anyone else, I have my biases. There are times I feel strongly about one thing or another and I can't really explain why. For example, I cringe anytime anyone uses the R word (shame on you, Rahm). I tend to avoid movies where celebrities are playing someone who is mentally challenged -- haven't seen Nell, I Am Sam, The Other Sister, just to name a few.

But the other night, I was laying in my bed waiting for my dosage of cold medicine to kick in, when I stumbled upon the HBO movie, Temple Grandin. In it, Claire Danes is Temple Grandin, an autistic woman who overcame her disability to attend college, earn a master's degree and a phd. Her specialty was animal science and in the 1970s, she helped farmers develop a more efficient way to slaughter cattle. She studied the animals and realized that in alot of ways, they were like her and there were certain things about the existing process that freaked them out, long before they were killed.

It's amazing that the entire process of slaughtering the animals didn't bother Temple. But she said "I'd rather be slaughtered than have my guts ripped out by a lion, if it's done right."The real Temple is now a professor at Colorado State University and has written several books about autism.

Overall, it was a really good movie and Claire Danes did an excellent job. The movie was also inspiring, because this was a woman who had a door (there's a recurring theme with doors in the movie) slammed in her face each and everytime, but she remained determined. All of us could use that perseverance from time to time.

Yes, I'm Alive

It's been a busy few months. One that's been filled with working, writing, tweeting, facebooking, working, writing ... and all of the other stuff that does not include blogging. Sorry that I've been neglectful ya'll. In short, I've been doing great and 2010 is off to a great start. Here's a longer rundown of what I've been up to:

• Writing: I'm up to draft three in my new novel. The pieces are slowly coming together. I think I've found a title and I've finally committed to names of some of the major characters. Maybe it's just me, but naming folks is one of the hardest parts of writing for me. I guess that's just cause I feel like names and nicknames should have meaning. *shrug*
• Reading: I've become totally obsessed with the Clan of the Cave bear series. I finished book one quickly and nowI'm approaching the end of book 2, Valley of the Horses. There are six books in all, and thanks to my obsession, I own all six!! And I hear that the writer will be releasing another book sometime this year. Hooray!
  
• Tweeting: Yes, I've discovered Twitter. But I'm more of a Tweet watcher than a tweeter myself. The thing I like to do is follow celebrities on there, because I just often imagine what there lives are like. I'm following Erykah Badu, Aisha Tyler, Questlove from the Roots, Rainn Wilson, Chrisette Michele, etc. Erykah Badu has the most entertaining tweets by far, like -- "Whose baby is this, on my chest? Oh yeah, it's mine."
• Facebooking: Yes, it's that website that I both love and hate. I love catching up with old friends, but all the site is is a high school reunion 75485748 times a day. On my friends' list, there's been what I've dubbed a 'love war' in the status updates. One friend is going through a pretty nasty divorce, so each day there's an update about that. On the other spectrum, there's my madly in love friend. He recently got engaged, so each day I have to hear about his Beloved (yes, he calls her by a pet name that's similar to that) did this or that. She calls him Smooches (again, a name equally similar) and responds back in love haikus. It's interesting.
• Bobbing my head: I continue to keep my cd collection up to date, and I've been waiting patiently for the release of !!!SADE!!!! But I've been enjoying the latest releases from Mary J. Blige, Robin Thicke, Mariah Carey and Corinne Bailey Rae. My buddy Tbyrd hipped me to St Germain's Tourist cd, which has several smooth tunes.
  
• Shoveling: My region of the world was hit with a massive snowstorm recently. I'm talking 20 inches and up. Although I enjoy the snow when I'm tucked safely inside with no place to go, the fact is that eventually, I will have a place to go, and in order to get there, I need to shovel. Ugh. But it was a true bonding experience for myself and my three or four other neighbors who came out to get the job done ahead of time.
• Being neighborly: I had the pleasure of shoveling beside my favorite neighbor, I'll call her Dana, because I don't know her name. She has a little girl and she's the only other single woman living in my building. We've commiserated when Mr. Bad Element moved in, and made subsequent complaints to management. So I couldn't help but laugh when Dana was shoveling her car and Mr. Bad Element walked in the path she just shoveled. She gave him a firm cussing out and told him not to even THINK about walking anywhere near where she just shoveled. He grumbled, but he listened. Tee hee. He deserved that and so much more. But more about him later.
  

Anyway, that about sums up my life story at the moment. Be sure to tune in next time when I'll be sure to add more blogging into the mix.

(Photo from http://www.snowcrest.net/pine/shoveling.jpg )

One Queen & A Baby

I agreed to this godmother duty a little over a year now and my tasks had been pretty easy. The hardest parts have been the inquisition that the Catholic Church subjected me to, and then attending the baptism ceremony, which was literally 574574574574 hours long. Other than that, I'm more than happy to pop in for any birthday parties the godchildren may have, where I shower them for gifts, get them in trouble, and promptly go home. (Fyi, when I say godchildren I'm talking about my friend's two kids: 'P', her toddler, and 'B', her teenage stepson)





So I was in the throes of unattached happiness when the phone rang and my friend gave me the 10 words that literally made my knees buckle: "Would you mind watching the baby for a few hours?" Now, I knew this was bound to happen, since my friend had been involved in a nightmare of a childcare situation. She knew I had the day off, she and husband had to get to work and they needed someone to watch the baby 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. and would I do it? 'Sure thing!' I said without hesitation.





Now, it's been a looong time since I've been unattended with a little person. The last kid I had babysitting domain over is now 13, so I'm a bit out of my element. Dear P is a 1 year old chubby cheeked ponytailed bundle of energy. She came with a bag of toys -- two teddy bears; Lulu, a doll who counted to 10 VERY LOUDLY; a 'Happy birthday' dvd and a couple of books.





However, P’s favorite activity was running around in circles and laughing. Yet that didn’t compare to the sheer joy she felt when she came up to my entertainment center and promptly threw all of my dvds on the floor. She quickly put them back up, only to knock them back down again. This went on for awhile and it was quite amusing. Whenever she’d get agitated, I’d try to get her to say my name. My name is a mouthful for any tyke, so I decided to teach her to call me Queen. That was much easier!


Once she bored with my dvds, P got to my magazine collection. I tried to steer her toward the magazines I didn’t care about – the Shape with Jennifer Love Hewitt on the cover, the Cosmopolitan featuring Kim Kardashian, etc. I had to do some serious interference when she lunged for my special Vogues – those featuring Michelle Obama and Jennifer Hudson. Finally, she settled on my Victoria’s Secret catalog. Hey, the girl’s got good taste.



No evening with a tyke would be complete without a sudden strange smell and the dirty diaper that follows it. And let me tell you …. THAT WAS SOMETHING. But we survived. P’s dad picked her up promptly at 6 pm, just like he said he would and the family thanked me hundreds of times.



After P left, this strange feeling fell over me and I realized how quiet my home really is. So I jumped on my couch and took a nice, long nap. I truly earned that bad boy.

Photo from http://i245.photobucket.com/albums/gg62/witchyhoy3/thetruth.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. Working seven days a week is a true study in mental illness

2. All I ask is that I be allowed to decorate my padded room

3. Nevertheless, it was a pretty good weekend

4. I mean, eight hours of sleep, so what more could I ask for?

5. I would've liked some free time to go see the Princess & the Frog

6. But I did finish my Christmas shopping!

7. And I only achieved that goal because I wanted to beat my super organized friend, who is behind this year. Tee hee!

The Phone Booth

It always amazed me how innocent looking Clark Kent could jump into a phone booth (you know, those extinct buildings that once held phones?) and come out as the Man of Steel, a.k.a. Superman.

But for awhile now, I’ve been doing my own Phone Booth routine. By day, I sit at a desk, answer phones, write and do all kinds of other stuff that comes with my responbilities for the X Company. And at quitting time, I go into our handicapped bathroom stall (my version of the phone booth) and transform into Retail Woman.

These are the changes I had to make when I started a part time job at a retail establishment eight months ago. It took me awhile to get adjusted to my new life. For example, Corporate Me can wear whatever she wants in terms of business attire. It’s a loose environment, so she can either chat loudly (about work matters, of course!) or have her head buried in work and no one will raise a brow. As long as the job is done, that’s all that matters. The most horrible thing she can do here is spell a person’s name wrong.

Corporate Me can be quiet. She can be loud. She can be comedic. She can be shy. She can be introverted. She can be disgruntled.

Things are different for Retail Woman, who has to dress up in the gear that her Retail Job sells. She can’t wear earrings that are larger than a dime (I’m still cursing over that one), can only wear sneakers and flip flops and must always have a smile plastered on her face. It’s a small store, so whenever a customer enters, it’s Retail Woman’s job to greet her immediately. She must quickly highlight the current sales, usher her into the fitting room with no less than a dozen items and make sure she buys at least three. At checkout, Retail Woman absolutely MUST remind customers of her name, as well as the store’s upcoming promotions. The most horrible thing she can do at the store is not say “tell your friends” at the end of every single transaction.

Retail Woman is perky. She is a people person. She can dress a headless mannequin in record time. (I can’t, though) She is fluent in Small Talk and takes frequent trips to Extrovert Isle and Too Hyper country.

So now I finally understand how difficult it was for old Superman to switch his personalities at any given time. It is truly a study in mental illness. Luckily, this switcheroo only happens about 10-15 hours a week. I’m slowly getting adjusted.

The Isle of Me

I've had some vacation time to burn by the end of the year, so I'm getting in one week now. Where am I going? To the enchanting exotic Isle of Me. From the comfort of my couch, I'll be mentally taking in the sunshine, waves and fattening food that comes with being on a real vacation destination. Actually, I've already reached one of those goals, so a big fat RIP to my Thanksgiving leftovers. =)

So far, I've been semi productive on my vacation. I've reached the 50,000 word mark in draft 2 of novel #2 and I'm still plugging away. Today I woke up early, did a work out and ran a few errands. Now I'm about to take a nap before I head into Job #2. That's the unfortunate thing about these part time gigs, they don't come with paid vacation!