On being catty. With some Method Man mixed in

There is nothing worse than a catty woman. I try my darndest not to be catty, and not to be bitter, to just live and let live. But if I were to be catty, I might mention a few things like:

-How I ran into my ex at the store the other day, and got my first closeup view of him and his homely wife

-After all I've heard about her, I thought that she'd at least be beautiful on the outside. But hey, she is not.

-How he and I nodded a hello, but he was breaking his neck trying to look at me

-How I couldn't help but feel like I was living that infamous Old Spice commercial: "Look at your wife, now look at me. Look at your wife, now look at me. Now, she is NOT me."

-How I looked at myself in the mirror the next morning and shouted "She's ugly!!!" and then laughed and danced my way through the rest of the day

-How I got a text from him and I thought about all the ways I could blow up his spot, but instead I just blocked his number

-How I thought about his new found girth as I weighed myself at the gym, and realized that I am just four pounds away from my goal

I'd say all those things, if I were a catty broad. Thank goodness I'm not.

Now, about Method Man. He is on my LIST. He's that guy that could point to me in a crowd, shout "COME HERE!" and I would go running. Of course, if he yelled something ignant, like "YO BITCH COME HERE!", I would roll my eyes. Yeah, I'd still run to him, but not real fast. (jokes) I used to love this song back in the day and they played it on the radio recently, so I thought I'd share here. Enjoy!

The Spin (**I suppose this is called stress)

1. Yeah, I've been a little stressed out lately

2. So much so, that I've gone into work at my part time job on a day I wasn't scheduled to work

3. But I must say, it was fun being able to just go home, without anything to do, without anyone to answer to

4. Soon, I'll have to write about how my spin class is getting gangsta

5. And how much I've been digging Terry McMillan lately (as if you hadn't noticed)

6. I will post my vacation pictures soon, I promise

7. But for now, I'm going to continue with my sleep therapy, which means that when the going gets rough ... I'm getting in my bed.

Have a wonderful week everyone


(**Tweet from Terry McMillan at 1:45 a.m. Aug. 24)

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)