Tuesday, August 31, 2010
That's a big word. And I wasn't too sure what it meant.
So you know me, I had to go look it up.
An Aspiration is a strong desire, longing, or aim; a goal or objective desired.
There are plenty of interesting synonyms for the word aspiration: aim, ambition, ambitiousness, craving, desire, direction, dream, eagerness, endeavor, fire in the belly, hankering, inclination, longing, object, objective, passion, pursuit, push, right stuff, urge, vocation, wish, work, yearning.
The one phrase above that sparks my interest is "fire in the belly".
Is there anything that creates a "Fire in my belly"?
Well, I read the aspirations of others who have done this post already, and my lists are not like theres. Like, I've already did the school thing. Ain't no way in hell I'm going back to school, when I have a doctorate under my belt.
Like, I would LOVE to publish a piece of my creative writing. Pieces of my writing litter the floors of the House of LadyLee. I plan to pick up a little and submit it.
One of my favorite dreams that has come true was to meet my favorite author. Not only did I meet her, I got that broad phone number, and I can call her up and harrass her whenever I please. (Don't worry, she can call and harrass me too, LOL(
I'm a homeowner, 5 years counting. That dream is done.
I've been married. Not sure how I feel about going through that again.
I have aspirations, but they aren't as fire driven as those in the past.
I remember having a dollar figure in mind of how much I wanted to make a year, to feel alright. I've surpassed that amount by 20,000 bucks a year. That's a dream come true. But I must say that for years, I've been believing for making 15% past that amount.
But my aspirations right now, I'm beginning to see, as I get older are moving more towards the intangible... that is, more of the emotional and mental.
They are nonmaterial in nature.
And I've always felt: the tangible is born from the intangible.
1. One of my biggest aspirations is to be a very generous woman. Very generous.
I was telling my sister, it would be nice to drop 5, 10, 20 grand on someone, and REALLY change their lives. That is LIFE CHANGING right there.
But I can't do that. I try to do the small things these days. Small things like being able to help someone's dream or goal come true. I had a pastor say, many years ago- and I will always remember this:
If you got a dream, and you haven't reached it... go find someone with a similar dream and get busy helping to make their dream come true.
I thought that was profound. Very simple in it's meaning, yet deep at the same time, in what it breeds in you: it develops faithfulness, sincerity, maybe, even, dare say I, a little joy in seeing someone else accomplish their goal.
Being generous squeezes out selfishness. I grew up in a terribly selfish environment. I want to work towards being more selfless than selfish.
And to be that way out of the sincerety of my heart.
2. I aspire to be healthy, to be well. I was diagnosed with lupus some eight and a half years ago. I remember the doctor telling me what I had, and sitting there silently listening to him, and my asking the simple question, with no fear in my voice "Is it fatal?"
I remember walking out to my car, and calling my cubicle mate Cowgirl Cre, and asking her to look up anything she could find for me on this lupus.
I remember that same day, going to my local bookstore and sitting in one of the comfortable chairs and reading...
And reading... And reading.
I know what it is to get so very sick, and having to learn to walk again. And one of my greatest triumphs is being dressed when my baby bro came home in the afternoon from school, and holding on to his shirt tail as we walked to the stop sign up the street from my mother's house... and back to the house again.
It was a walk that should've taken only 2 or 3 minutes, but took us 1o. I just wanted my legs to get stronger. Just to be able to walk without thinking about it.
(You couldn't tell me nothing when me and the boy walked all the way around the block. NOTHING. You would've thought I'd ran a full marathon, lol).
Today, over 8 years later, one of my greatest joys is getting up and walking in the mornings, sometimes just 1.5 miles, or on a good day, 3 miles when I feel up to it. It's funny when the elderly bypass me, as I only walk about 2.25 miles an hour, but that's okay.
Walking and watching the sun rise over the trees is one of my purest joys, the quiet and calm eye in the storm of the hustle and bustle of my life.
But I dream of being healthy. No lupus at all. The thing going into remission. A clean clean bill of health.
One of my coworker's niece has lupus and he said to me one day "Girl, Ya'll know ya'll take a lot of medicine. Ya'll line that medicine up."
I nodded. I line my medicine up, too. And there's nothing worse than my monthly trip to the pharmacy. I have to get 6 prescriptions filled each time. I know my pharmacist and I argued one time because of the cost of one of my subscriptions.
"Yo," I told the pharmacist. "I don't want a month's supply. Give me twenty dollars worth."
*Pharmacist raises eyebrow*
"Don't look at me like that. It's the principle. That medicine is as much as one of my utiltiy bills. I'll feel better if I don't get it all of that particular one at one time. I'll just come back and get it."
I'll feel better if I dont' get it all at one time. How about I will feel better if I don't get it AT ALL?
If I don't need it at all.
That is my dream. To not need the medicine.
I tell you, the vegetarian thing helps. I can't seem to get down past the 95% no meat mark, but hell, it helps. Killed out a bunch of symptoms. If I can get my head straight, I'd put a rush on that other 5%. But I think I'd have to be living out in the desert alone to do that.
Or on the planet of Mars.
Still a dream. An aspiration. One worth hoping for. One worth having faith for.
Those are my aspirations. What I desire. What puts a small fire in my belly.
And with my faith, the eye of my imagination, I'll always keep the fire burning.
"A Lone Pregnancy"
I thought he loved me
With no goodbye he was gone
My period left too
Her lips were puckered
As she fought the last breath
Tears rolled down her face.
By Dawn, especially for Women of Color Writing Workshop 8/10; I think she messed both of those up, lol.
Monday, August 30, 2010
On this day one year ago, we lost you.
I was sad, and I am still am. I go back often and read an account of our friendship and your final days, just so that I can remember what is important in this life... what is truly important...
There hasn't been a day that has gone by that I haven't thought of you, and the importance of your friendship...
That day, I not only lost a friend, but a confidant... a sister.
I understand now people crossing paths, for a reason, for a season... but I can't say that it hurts any less.
So the time we were friends, I cherish,
and I will forever remember
And I will never forget.
And I will always hold memories of you close to my heart...
My favorite place is my house.
No, I don't have anything fancy. No expensive artwork on the walls, none of that. You'll never come in my house and squeal oooh and ahhhh...
Although I love fresh flowers for the coffee table in the living room.
Not sure what possesed me to buy white furniture.
But I love my microsuede sofa. I especially love that chair and ottoman in the far corner, as that's my favorite place to crochet, or kick back with my laptop and do a little writing.
I love that my garage is in the back of the house. It's very "bat-caveish", lol.
Nope... I'm not fancy, nothing fancy here.
It's just my personal place of peace. That's all.
It's my home. It's where I can get away from all the worries, cares and expectations of the world and just be me.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
And this week, some 5 years later, the levees broke in Pakistan.
Forgive me, but I am not all that concerned about Pakistan. Our government hasn't even taken care of the levees on the home turf in Louisiana.
Take care of that, then I'll cry for Pakistan.
Sweep off the porch of your own house before you run off and take care of someone elses.
Sorry to rant... but I've been to New Orleans, and there is still work to be done.
I just wanted to take the time to remember that place i called home at one time...
Because it stands for
False Evidence Appearing Real.
It is basically me reacting to what I think is going to happen in a situaion. Specifically, it's me meditating on the negative outcome rather than the positive outcome.
I don't like to think about that.
But we all have fears. And it becomes a fight to overcome them.
Here's another definition of fear that sticks in my mind. (Especially since we've spent like 3 months at a time at church on it).
Fear is the opposite of faith. Fear is the reciprocal, the flip side of faith.
But here's the kicker. Fear and faith are connectors, placing me squarely on the path to either what I am afraid of or what I'm having hope for, respectively.
With that said, I'm not afraid of what you would think I would be afraid of. Like, I don't subscribe to the single black woman chatter that goes on out here. No fear of being alone, no fear of dire statistics, none of that.
I'm not afraid of this lupus thing. I have my problems, but I'm still breathing and the blood is running warm through my veins. I'm not going to let it have me sitting off in a corner having a pity party, and making everybody elses life miserable. If I'm having a bad time of it, only the people in my immediate presence on a daily basis know. I may or may not even mention it.
Although I felt a little fear creeping up on me when management started messing with a coworker at work. She's been in and out ill, and her boss called her Doctor (aint that illegal?). He follows her around and spies on her.
Now, as a chronically ill person, I take note of these things.
I started looking at all the "false evidence", i.e., my boss calling my doctor, etc.
She hasn't done that. Glad she hasn't. My doctor HATES HATES HATES my job, and I don't want my boss getting a Book of Indian cuss upside the head.
And employees on my job have gotten smart.
Around our job, it was figured out that you write your congressman a letter. That staves off management, and keeps them at bay.
For awhile anyway.
That has been a fear lately. I feel I have to keep my eye on my work, and keep an eye on the management. I really don't care for a target being placed on my back. This creates a little stress, just from me rolling over and over in my mind.
That is an immediate fear I have. There is another that is ongoing.
My biggest ongoing fear is not fulfilling the purpose God has for my life.
And it being due to my own stubborness, me holding up the process.
As I get older, I see my road smoothing out just a tad, and I can see how I fulfill my purpose in the lives of people around me. I am happy for that, and I acknowledge it. I am happy for people who pass through my life path, and they fulfill God's purpose in my life, if only for a season.
But we all search for that place... that place of personal power and passion, where provision is made in our lives and in the lives of others.
I want to be sure to fulfill the purpose for which I was born, for which I was created. That is where TRUE joy resides.
Patience has to have it's perfect work, in order for personal development to take place.
I think we all have purpose, but we need to allow time for that personal development to occur in order to handle and be trusted with that purpose.
And in all that, there is absolutely no room for fear.
Friday, August 27, 2010
And I'm trying to fly in the direction of things I've never blogged about.
Serenity23 suggested something TOTALLY outlandish over on twitter.
Uh, no. My blog is rated PG! That is going off in a whole nother direction. lol
No, I'm not telling you what she suggested.
I'll just keep it... safe.
The first time I cheated in school.
Don't look at me like I just got off the bus. It is what it is.
It was around 1977, I believe. I was in the third grade.
And I forgot to do my spelling homework.
I told my best friend Tasha about this. She said, "That's alright. You can copy my homework."
And that's what I did. Copied her 10 spelling words.
So, we were in class, and the teacher was going over the words with the class.
I kept raising my hand, and spelling the words right. Thank goodness for Tasha letting me copy her homework!
So we got to the word "tomato". I spelled it correctly, loud as all get out.
Tomato! T-O-M-A-T-O. Tomato!!
The teacher smiled. I think her name was Mrs. Jones. She said "Lee, you are doing great! You are doing a great job!"
My friend Tasha raised her hand. "That's because she copied my homework, Mrs. Jones."
Hard gasps and "Ooooooooooooohs" exploded from the class.
I was so embarrassed. I slumped in my seat.
"Is that true, Lee?" my teacher asked. Her voice had lost any sign of kindness. "Did you copy Tasha's homework?"
I couldn't speak. All I could do is nod my head yes.
I was screaming inside, though. Screaming "PLEASE DON'T CALL MY MAMA!"
I got an F that day. I think that was my first F ever.
And my mother got a call from the teacher.
My mama beat my tail over that one. Oh, it was awful.
I went back to school the next day. Me and Tasha stayed friends.
I was young then. Some mess like that goes down now, I'll leave you alone.
That was a first for me. Definitely not the last, though.
I've had a good week. A good couple of weeks, actually.
And that is all I want. Period.
Nothing much to say, just wanted to weave in some freestyle, and light reflection on my week.
We had a meeting on Wednesday, and my director actually used my "Dr." title when speaking about me. LOL!!! I never go to job-wide meetings, but I needed that time to sit in the back of the room and work on a story (yeah, my priorities are just... just right, they are just right).
Heard a lot of comments behind that. It seems uh, and this is just speculation, that she don't care to use my title.
Maybe it's because she don't have one. LOL! Haterade is never sweet. Thanks for the respect, bosslady! Nothing but love for YOU!
Quote of the week: As seen on Twitter, from blogger the Infamous La, who I just absolutely adore and stalk relentlessly:
I am tired of people trying to tell me who I am, when their only version of me is defined by who they thought I should be to suit them.
That's powerful right there. That's got some "BOOYAH" on it.
That really resonated with me. It is what it is. Truth to the tenth the degree.
We ALL can write a thesis on that. All of us. I won't do that. We'll just let that... marinate.
Song of the week: One of my favorites. This here is for the 40 and over crowd, and you young chickens don't know nothing about this. It reminds me of my high school prom. What a good time that was.
"The Heat of Heat" by Patti Austin
That's all for now... I am more than ready for the weekend.
Green-Eyed Bandit, holla at me Ma, let me know if there's a Financial Freedom Fighter Meeting tomorrow morning. You KNOW you gots to call me!
So everyone, enjoy your weekend... on purpose!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
This is a difficult one.
Something that makes your Friendly Neighborhood Oldgirl Cry.
Cry from joy? Or cry from pain?
Joyful crying comes from sitting around joning on folks. DO NOT let me and LadyTee get ANYWHERE and there's some craziness going on. PLEASE. It is not pretty. She can almost keep a straight face. Me, I'm having a conniption fit on the inside, and I may shed a few tears.
Answered prayer makes me cry. I get A LOT of answered prayer. I'm not talking about routine prayers. No crying there, just thankful. I'm talking about big answers that kill 50 birds with one stone. A lot of that is, I dare say, unexpected, or at least manifests in ways my doctorate brain cannot figure out. I still got some traditionalism in me, i.e., I ain't perfect, with my consistently inconsistent self, so why the grace and mercy, Lord? Makes me cry when I work my faith and my faith works out.
But the major thing that makes me cry...
I mean, disturbs me down to the core of my being. . .
Almost to the point where I have to stretch to put it into words, because there are no words to describe how I feel inside concerning it.
Disturbs me down to the seat of my soul, down to the foundation of who I am, my very being. . .
It is when I turn on the evening news, and a woman's kids have been killed by her boyfriend.
DANG MAN THAT HURTS!
Messes me up for a couple of days.
Your man, that trifling joker you were dealing with, who's been giving you problems, has killed your children.
This bothers me because one of my mother's trifling men tried to kill us back in 1976 when I was six years old. I saw a dude pull a butcher knife out of nowhere and just start stabbing.
What. the. world.
You know. I wrote an excruciatingly long post on that. LONG detailed post. Even though it was 35 years ago, I remember it like it was yesterday.
I NEVER link that post. But here's the link -"October 25, 1976: The Accident" .
I ain't recanting that. I'm glad I wrote it, because my Auntie read a related post referring to it, and she called and we talked about it. Cleared up a few things in my mind some 30 years later.
But I tell you, I can be around here cleaning up, yacking on the phone, eating, yelling at that Oldcat Oscar-Tyrone about something, getting ready for work, doing what we all do during our day...
And turn on the news, and some mess like that goes down.
GEEZ! Makes me cry, makes me want to pull what little hair I have out.
Makes me want to punch a frickin hole in the wall! UGH.
You know, I wonder how the woman feels? You have to live with the fact that that fool you were dealing with killed your child.
As a woman, how do you live with such a thing? I don't think I could even sleep at night.
Don't look at me in that tone of voice for saying that.
Check it out: before that joker nutted up like that, there were signs and symptoms of him being crazy. There was mess going on leading up to that.
Well, any crazy jokers I've dealt with, I knew they were crazy long before I uttered the words. . .
"This fool here is crazy."
I've been caught up in some questionable ish. Dated questionable men. The things is, I don't have children.
But all bets are off when you do have children. I'm sorry. You need to watch who you bring around your children.
Me and my siblings. . . We've talked about this. My mother would move derelicts in the house. I mean, negroes with some real problems. We are all quite lucky that we weren't raped, molested, hurt, killed, none of that. Not sure why she didn't see it as important not to move jokers in the house. I wish I could ask her that question. She would cuss me if I did.
I would just like to know.
I think about all these things when a child is murdered, by the "disgruntled boyfriend". I can't stand it.
Of course, it's not always like that. Some mess jumps off, and people are like, "Gee, didn't know he was like that."
But more often than not, you hear on the news "Well, there were restraining orders. He'd been abusing her and the kids for awhile."
Sigh! Come ON!
Children did NOT ask to be born. They did NOT.
I myself have had to come to grips with the fact that I didn't ask to be born. So I won't apologize for such.
Took me awhile to get over seeing my mother being stabbed, and all that blood. Took years for my own stab wounds to disappear. To this day, I can know and understand the sound of a knife stabbing flesh. I don't do too well in movies where folks are wielding knives, man.
To this day my mother still bares the scar on her jaw, where it was sliced open. Her collar bone juts out, from where the dude ran over her with a car. I don't cross paths with her much if I can help it, but I see and think about these things when I see her and I see those reminders of what happen so long ago.
No child should have to go through that. Ever.
And I'm shaken up when a child goes through something like that and survives it. I'm forever emotionally and mentally scarred by that. Lord knows I don't want any child to go through that.
And I cry when I think of a child taking their last breath, their very last breath. . . at the hand of a parent's scorned lover.
Such things. . . they ought not ever happen.
It was hosted by my workshop leader Dawn, at her house.
She hates to see me coming. Because I give her such a hard time. Not my fault. You catching me on a Friday, after working 5 days. I gotta pick on and irritate somebody.
And Dawn's that person.
By the way, my best friend LadyTee LOVES Dawn. Loves her to death. Anytime I talk to LadyTee, she be like "You seen Dawn? Where is Dawn? You talk to Dawn!?"
DAWN, DAWN, DAWN!
*lee smashes punch bowl to the ground*
I wanna yell "SHUT UP!" (And sometimes I do).
Dawn is a massage therapist, and LadyTee runs up on her on the regular. So everytime I see Dawn, I holler
"My best friend thinks you're Black Jesus, Dawn! You walk on water. You can do no wrong!"
*Dawn kicks the hard eyeroll*
Anyway, there was a special magazine on the table.
Another therapist, Quita, was there. And I harrassed them royally about this whole "lubricant" matter. They should be called "oils". When I think of lubricants, I think of....
Anyway, Dawn prepared some white bean chili with chicken.
Not sure why she likes to cook sometimes for the workshop. I catch dinner on the way over, or I pack my own dinner. That day, I'd packed a fruit and some salad. I ate my salad, along with some of the chili.
"What's up with all this chicken, Oldgirl?" I hollered, as I knocked all the chunks of chicken out of the way and scooped beans onto a plate.
It was fantastic. I talked of how I was gonna hook it up sans chicken... with some cannellini beans and tomatoes and fiery hot peppers!
There was also ghetto Kool-Aid.
I'm not sure what flavor that was. I choose to call it the "red" flavor. But Aunt Ray-Ray likes to break out her special Kool-Aid pitcher and mix it up for us. I think she put a quart of pineapple juice over in there. I usually stay away from Kool-Aid, as it tends to break me out, but I just had to have a glass.
We did a little writing. A whole lot of haiku. I'll be posting some of that this week.
Massage therapists are interesting people. There a couple in our group, and they are vegetarians, and have been helpful in that respect. Then they know other strange stuff. Like for instance, Quita talked of this wonderful Korean Sauna and Bathhouse on the Northside of town that she frequents. You get butt naked and go in different rooms and relax. Tons of people walking around, butt naked (men and women are separated).
You get body scrubs from little old Korean womens, too...
Not the Oldgirl. I found it interesting, though.
Where is Tazzee? Hey girl, you're adventurous. I think you should go check that out. 25 bucks and you can stay up to 24 hours. VERY popular.
*Tazzee giving Lee the hard side-eye*
I like learning new things. Who would've known such a place was available in my beloved ATL?
Anyway, our writing workshop was pretty good, as always the case. It was a bit tougher this time, because we were dealing with more descriptive media (scents, colors, etc.), and frankly, I can't come up with much worthwhile in ten minutes, lol.
But I enjoyed getting together with the ladies, talking and laughing about life.
Nothing like good fellowship over chili and kool-aid!
So Quita, Dawn, Ray Ray, and Erica... I enjoyed our writing workshop. I always enjoy your writing. We all bring so much creativity to the table!
Can't wait 'til next month when we get together and write again!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
One of them is walking in the house after a long day's work, taking my bra off, and laying across the bed, and listening to the whiiiiiirrrrr of the ceiling fan.
Ya'll know you take the bra off time you walk in the house. Don't trip.
Another is listening to old music. It always takes me back to a former time in place. I can listen to most songs and tell you where I was at and what I was doing at the height of the song's popularity. I especially like music that was out during a time when I was in love, or at a really happy place in my life, or in a place where I was pushing forward through a bad time, and came out a winner.
But I think what really makes me feel better is spending time with friends, especially after being a little down. And when I say friends, I mean people who know me, my idiosyncracies, etc.
I'm a little different than any homegirl you will have. You have to deal with me being nerdy, and being a loner. I look at people all day long. I prefer to spend most of my free time to myself. You may or may not know if I'm in a bad place or not. I have a tendency to try to work things out on my own. (This seems to be changing the older I get).
I'm an extremely hard nut to crack. I have a tendency to hide my feelings, my hurts, and my pains.
I have friends who know exactly how to have a little patience with me, not be judgmental, and talk to me and lift my spirits.
I love that. I need that in my life.
That's what truly makes me feel better.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
This is a nonsmurfy topic.
For it's hard for me to come up with things that upset me.
Whereas it's easy for me to come up with things that piss me off.
But things that truly upset me... not so easy.
What comes to mind after much thought is when people have beef with me and they worry my friends or family to death over the situation.
The situation is between you and me. It doesn't involve other mutual people in our lives.
It really bothers me. Folks who know me know that I don't like to be a bother or burden on people.
And seeing someone upset over some situation in my life, conveniently stirred up by some messy third party, well, that bothers me deep down in the seat of my soul. Especially when they do it on purpose... just to get at me.
That's one thing that upsets me.
Monday, August 23, 2010
I have lots of moments, but two recent ones immediately come to mind, They put me in a happy place.
1. Meeting and holding my nephew for the first time. The occasion was his first birthday party. He stared up at me curiously and slowly reached out and grabbed my chin.
Not sure what that was about. I don't have the crazy Jay Leno chin.
I like to think that the boy was thinking, "That's an Oldgirl right there!" LOL
2. Riding shotgun in That Southern Black Gal's gangsta ride as she gave me a tour through the mad streets of Little Rock.
Man, that Oldgirl is alright with me. She took me to the hood, Lil' Mexico, the good side of town... all over the place. We listened to some of the current urban music, too. I had never heard this "Pretty Boy Swag" song (And I hope to never hear it again). I know who Drake is now, too.
But it all did something for my peace of mind. Been a long time since I've just rode shotgun and relaxed. (That was a CONSTANT when I was in my 20s. Gas was cheap back then too, lol).
Thanks a lot for that, Ma. You did an Oldgirl's heart good.
Those are my moments.
2 for the price of one! You can't beat that.
Some of those topics... man, whoever came up with them need to be smacked around.
But I must say, they are making me think. As you all lurk. LOL. And there are some real doozies coming up soon.
The current temperature in my beloved Downtown ATL is 76 degrees.
Feels good. Is good.
But the temperature will climb to a sweltering 94 degrees.
HOT. And I am sick of HOT. I like it when it's in the high 70s, sunny, and balmy.
Got another month before we reach that.
Anyway, I took advantage of the weather completed a brisk 30 minute walk this morning. I haven't been walking lately, but I find that I need to keep the inflammation at bay. I'm probably going to do that every morning, as was my usual schedule.
And there's something wholly wonderful about catching a sunrise in the mornings that reminds me of what's really important.
My weekend. My weekend was good. I spent half a day in the bed on Saturday. Not sure what that was about.
Oh I know what it was about. Let's rewind back to Friday night. I had a writing workshop. I tried to write about that in this post, but it deserves a post on it's own. So stay tuned for that.
I didn't get in until near midnight. And you can tell that from my Friday night post which is totally unedited. (yeah, I was straight sleepy when I was writing that, lol. It read like I'd been drinking a lil' Boone's farm, man!).
I really needed to do some grocery shopping. Prices are going back up, and the organic fruits and veggies are getting sky high again. HUMPH. Summer was good, but by those prices, summer is QUICKLY coming to an end.
Sunday, I woke up and took my tail to church. Needed to hear some Word. We heard about the blood of Jesus, and will probably be hearing about it for the next 2 months. That means peering at every sangle verse about blood up and down, backwards, sideways... (Makes me wanna holler "Pastor, come on man, I think we got it! Let's move on!")
But I found out one interesting scientific fact: No one's been able to make a blood substitute that does all that blood can do. I wrote that down, and had a fine time researching that last night.
With all our intelligence, no one has been able to create blood. Hmm.
Interesting. Never knew or thought about it. Did a lot of reading. Appears to be true...
And they trying to clone humans. Work on making blood, man!
After church, I went over to my sister's house. She's been gone a couple of months, and I'm just now getting over there. She fried some fish and shrimp and fries. I told her no biggie, I would eat with her.
But I called her, bugging her on my way over, barreling down I-85, whining hard, scratching like a crackhead...
"Kentucky, you got some fruit? Some salad?"
After she mumbled something about having an orange, I dropped by the Krogers on the way over and got some fixings for salad.
The seafood was good.
But... Let's just say I was MUCH more interested in my wonderful salad of mixed baby greens, tomatoes, sliced apples, cucumbers, walnuts, and vidalia onion dressing...
...Than some dang fish and shrimps.
*Lee points fanger high in the sky*
I think I'm getting somewhere fast... Not sure where, but I'm getting there!!
I had a fine time with my baby sista. She actually came over Saturday to pick up mail. Oscar was delighted to see her. (He likes her MUCH more than he likes me).
But it was good to hang out at her spot. I know where she lives now. She's 45 minutes away, but I can still harrass her, lol.
LadyTee lives nearby, so I spent some time with her. I planned to spend 10 minutes there, but I ended up spending over an hour. Her daughter starts high school today, so LadyTee and I tried to calm her nerves by entertaining her with our high school stories. I started High school when I was 11, so I told her, if I can deal with the social aspects, so can she.
I came home and did a little writing and hung around on twitter for a bit. I went to bed around midnight.
A WONDERFUL weekend overall.
I would LOVE to take the day off, but that would be major trouble. MAJOR.
So off to the workplace I gooooooo....
I'll leave you with two songs on heavy rotation in the car this weekend by the Emotions.
Bet you've never heard these before! They're from the one gospel album the group made.
I'm posting a few of our haiku this week from our writing workshop.
And I'm posting a few quotes from my big blog sista, that Original Oldgirl LoveBabz this week. She's been saying a few things lately that have been lighting my head on fire! Babz be breaking ish down, man!!
With that... have a good week.
I'ma try to. My confession on Friday afternoons has been: Next week WILL be better.
And I'm looking forward to a better more purpose filled week...
Sunday, August 22, 2010
*Lee passing out on the hard concrete*
Very tiring. Very confusing. Very long. Very stagnant. Very everything.
But I'm back on my feet... I think.
This past week was getting back to normal. I think.
You know, since turning 40, or around that time, I tend to put a lot of stuff in life through filters, and that goes for people also. I tend to categorize folks. I tend to place everything in certain boxes.
Like, there's box marked IMPORTANT. There's one marked UNIMPORTANT. Then there's some boxes marked as TRASH. All of that goes in a room of my mind.
Well, this month, I felt like I left the room.
And I came back, and the boxes were turned over, and everything was scattered all around.
All around my mind, that is.
And I've had to find a way of overlooking the utter chaos and putting everything back into it's proper box. And having the patience to do it right.
That's it in a nutshell.
An arduous process it is, looking at each person and situation, and not only deciding what box they go in, but why they go in said box.
That's how I describe this month.
I haven't been keeping track of goals set and all that. The only cosistent thing going on is me continuing with my savings goals for the year, and churning away on that. My goals techonologist Ms. Not so Anonymous (who's also my future POTUS) is taring the club up with her personal weekly goal challenge. I have a little bit of month left. I'ma follow her example and set one or two goals for the month.
This past week has been good. I did what I needed to do at work. Period.
This weekend was even better. I ran a LOT of errands. I went to church. I finally got out to my sister's new apartment waaay on the southside. I even hung out with my best friend.
I concentrated on the box marked "IMPORTANT". And that's all I wanted to do...
All I needed to do.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Something I regret.
Regret means to me that I made a decision, chose a direction at one of the many forks of the road in my life, and I figure out now through hindsight, that it was the wrong decision.
And I mourn making such a decision.
That decision, that one thing that I regretted is getting married.
Simple as that.
I got married in 1999. I got divorced in 2003.
It began. It ended.
Simple as that.
Or is it ever that simple?
Not really. My guy was a good guy. He had his problems. I had mine. My thought process was that "We've been together for 5 years, he's been my man for 5 years, and I don't plan on dealing with anyone else so we might as well make a go of it."
Yep. That was the reasoning of my 29-year-old mind. Never mind that we fought alot. Never mind that he was in the strip clubs. Never mind that his credit was in the toilet. Never mind that I had anger problems, was a consummate loner, and was focused full force on my own needs and career.
Never mind any of that.
"Me and him been together for 5 years, might as well get married."
And that's what we did. And it went to dust.
It is something I regretted. It did something for me, in some way. I can't say I've ever come out of something I've regretted, a bit emotionally beat up, but wiser from the experience.
I'm not bitter, just wiser.
I've gotten in trouble with men.
Because I love the 4 letter word:
A guy told me "You like to talk. It's like I can't run game on you. You hypnotize me, got me telling you the deep dark things, things I have never told a woman."
That's because I need to know it ALL. My life is important. Your life is important. I listen very well. I listen to my inner-voice.
Can't have us mucking up each other's life path. Marriage is hard work, 24-7, with no time-outs, no vacation days. It's HARD work. I found it harder than all my schooling. HARD work. Not sure I'll go through that again. It'll have to be the right person, right place, right time... ALL that.
It bothers me, all these dire reports of the single black woman and how woeful life is.
Instead of that, what should be of concern is the following: "Do you have wholeness, in mind, heart, body, and spirt, even as a single black woman?"
A hard question indeed. More difficult to evaluate truthfully within ones own self, than some busted statistics, statistics that devalue our self-esteem and lower our self-worth.
Before I come to the next fork in the road, where I have to make the hard choices such as those concerning marriage...
I need to be cognizant, fully sober in my thinking, and make sure I'm operating from a place of inner peace.
I want to be a blessing, and not a curse to someone's life. And I know now to consider someone who would be the same for me. And who's well developed in that mindset, even in their single life. Anything short of that, well, in my opinion, is just me operating out of selfishness, bad motives, and bad agendas.
That's the only way to do the right thing. And to make the proper progress.
And to not do something that I will truly regret.
But I press on. (As I lay here listening to Earth Wind and Fire, half asleep)
My favorite birthday...
Several come to mind. But I can't say that any were mindblowing and one stands out. They all mean something collectively. So I'll travel backwards in time, writing briefly about each.
All through my 30s - me and LadyTee take each other's birthdays off, and we run the streets, go do girly-stuff, like get our nails done, go shopping. Yeah, I say girly things, because anyone who knows me knows I'm a tomboy and girly stuff is... strange to me, lol.
I know the last 2 years, on my 39th and 40th birthdays, I've laid my head down to sleep outside of the USA. Yeah. That's what I call big balling, lol. My 39th birthday was my very first vacation as an adult, overtaking The Green Eyed Bandit's family cruise, and making it my own birthday cruise, lol. And then for my 40th birthday, I spent a few days in the Dominican Republic.
The idea now is to spend my birthdays from now on in another country. Although that's not going to pan out for my 41st birthday. Going on a 8 day cruise to Dominican Republic, Aruba, Caracao, and somewhere else in late February, 2 weeks after my birthday. Hijacking The Green Eyed bandit's family cruise again, and making it my own.
Before that, my most memorable birthday was my 30th birthday. I was in New Orleans doing a post-doc fellowship. Things were bad at home. My husband forgot my birthday, didn't acknowledge it, and was doing his own thing.
BUT I had 2 huge surprise parties at work. TWO. Wow! I hadn't had a birthday party since the age of 5. WOW. What a FINE time we had at work that day! Yeah, I had to go home, but I was all smiles.
Felt good that, even though I was lonely and felt unloved, people took thought of me. I felt good about myself that day.
Another great birthday was the age of 26. The same husband mentioned above was a boyfriend, and did most things right. He made that birthday a good one. Came down to my school in a suit, picked me up and took me to the Cheesecake factory and to a movie.
I don't recall the movie. But I do recall much much MUCH knocking of boots that night. That is all.
Before then, my most memorable birthday was at the age of 5. I was in the first grade. I wore a light blue sailor dress with a white color and red tie. My mother came up to the school and brought cake and music, and me and classmates in Mrs. Pittman's class danced and danced.
That was the age when I just remember being innocent. I wasn't all worried about stuff. Just enjoyed being a kid. I close my eyes and think of that time often.
I wish for that innocence again. I truly do.
So, those are birthdays that were not only memorable... but pivotal in some way.
And I am thankful for them all.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
That's hard, as I have quite a few of them.
I think the one that immediately comes to mind is the day I got the title of "Dr." added to my name.
That was one of the biggest goals I've ever accomplished.
I'm not going to write about it. I wrote about it all, and I mean, I wrote about ALL of it on the 10 year anniversary of my Ph.D.
But the most interesting part of it, something we still laugh about, was the acknowledgements of my dissertaion:
I excerpted a little of the 3 pages of the, uh, "hood-like" shout outs here, from the above blog post:
My acknowledgments were a whole different story... My professor was reading it, would look up at me over his glasses in disdain, read, look up at me like I was crazy. I'd sit there and smile like Celie!
My acknowlegments were REAL hood and funny!
"I'd like to thank my girl Weenie for letting me stay with her when I was homeless!"
"I'd like to thank my girl Dr. K. Gal, you know we use to do our Bitch and Beer Tuesdays and bitch and moan and cry!"
"Thanks Auntie Joyce and Uncle Shawn for selling me that Nova. I love that car!!"
"My homegirl Lady T-double-EE, thanks for your support!!"
"I'd like to thank my man, Oldboy."
"I'd like to thank my cats, the ever so cosmopolitan Jeremy Girard, and the thuggish ruggish kitty Oscar-Tyrone- who'd attack my printer everytime it started up!"
Yeah, I thanked my cats. LOL.
3 LONG pages of shoutouts! And at the end I put Master P's words in BOLD text!
"Make em say UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!! Naw, naw, naw, naw, NAAAAAWWWWW!"
So if you like, you can go back and peruse that.
Are you ready for the weekend?
I know I am.
Ya'll have a great Friday!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Rolling right along on the blog meme.
Day 16- your first kiss.
Man, I would dream of my first kiss. It would be something wonderful and beautiful like on television and the movies.
And I had to make it happen.
My first kiss was when I was 14, during the summer of 1984.
That's a bit young. But I didn't think so at the time. I was going to the 11th grade that year. And in my young teenage mind, there were certain things I wanted to do before I graduated from high school.
And one of those things was to kiss.
And this boy was a good male friend. We were talking about this one day, and well, I told him I'd never kissed a dude, and if he wanted to. Just that simple. Of course, his hormonal tail said that he had kissed before, and we could do that.
It was summertime. I wanted it to be completely dark (There was no way I was doing this in broad daylight). My mother was at work. So we went upstairs to my bathroom, which had no windows, and did the deed.
And it was gross. I can still remember the feel of it all.
And I remember thinking... "This is what people are all excited about?"
And what was up with all that saliva? What the heck, man!??
Lasted a good 10 seconds. Once it was over, it was over. I think I enjoyed his arms around me, and the warmth of his body more than the kiss.
He asked if I was okay. I said yeah. I think we went back outside and picked back up where we had left off, talking about whatever.
I gave the same guy my virginity a few months later. I tell you, he was a real trooper, lol...
I can't say that I liked kissing until about 3 guys down the line. The third guy, well, he was the charm. I knew (or thought I knew) what I was doing by then, at the tender age of 17.
I'd give anything to remember the first kiss that meant something special. But I can't remember.
So that's my first kiss adventure!
One that I'll never forget.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I actually wrote this post before work (at a time when I should've been out on my walk-with my triflin' self). But I held it today. There's a question that came up in my heart concerning it. A question I'll add at the end, one you should answer quietly to yourself in your personal time).
My dreams are more tangible than not. And I don't know if tangible is a great word to describe my dreams. I just can't think of another word.
My dreams lean more towards solving current issues.
Like, I dream that I'll wake up and the lupus will be gone. And that my joints are strong, and I can jump, jog or even run a 5K like so many of you do. I dream of a day of not taking so many meds just to stay alive and feeling a'ight with nary a pill in sight.
I dream of paying my house off. I dream of having a family and not groaning deep inside when it comes to my own family gatherings, but attending them with much joy and eagerness.
Things like that. Not a day goes by that I don't think about those things. They are dreams, that are so real that I feel like I can reach out and touch them, but I wake up and realize they are what they are:
Dreams. Proverbial puffs of smoke.
But puffs of smokes are real. (I'm just saying).
But one of my biggest "dream" dreams invovles writing. One of my dreams is to get something I've written published. And I would love to write for a living.
Oh, I'm scientifically published. I know the joy of seeing my name a professional journal. I was 21 years old the first time I saw my name on a publication. It involved the Chem.lum.inesen.ce of 1,2-dio.xetanes. (Yeah, that messed your head up. That's similar to lightn.ing bugs you see in the summer, but with CHEMICALS. Yes, an Oldgirl has dabbled in elect.rochemistry).
I know how that feels. Kind of like being high, lol.
I dream of that same feeling when it comes to some of my creative writing.
And I'm not talking about writing the all time great American novel. I don't really care for long projects like that, even though I work on manuscripts of that length. (Got a 1000 page manuscript in a box in the closet as we speak. It is the "Great American Oldgirl Novel, lol).
No, I would love to do some freelance writing, nonfiction and fiction. I love writing short stories, and things of that nature. I would love to write magazine articles. Quick stuff like that. I think that's why I like blogging so much. Yes, I'm "prolific", as my big blog sista Chele says, but this is fast and and it satisfies my writing joneses.
I would love to make a living off of that. To be able to do this and make a living from it, enough so where I could walk away from my job.
What. a. dream.
Makes my frickin' eye twitch like crazy.
But such a dream is frowned upon.
I can't say that I frown at it. This is my PASSION. I love, love, LOVE to write.
There's nothing like writing, with a goal of writing for a half hour...
And then looking up and see that it's hours later. I love that.
What I don't like about writing is that it all has to be "readied" for submission and all this depending on someone else to publish it.
Somewhere in the quagmire, my love for writing gets quenched.
I know, I know... It's a necessary evil. Yes it is.
I love crafting my stories, thinking about them, improving them... and chiseling them more.
I've learned that from the greatest writer on the planet, Miss Celie, i.e., the Great Tayari Jones, at whose feet I worship endlessly, lol.
I have many stories that are ready to go, just a matter of finding places for them. But it's time consuming. As a matter of fact, I'm submitting a couple soon. Not all that expectant of anything from it, except the experience of learning to write my query letters, and getting in the habit of correctly formatting manuscripts, etc... Just figuring out the parts I HATE to fool with.
These things take time. My best friend and I were discussing this the other day. For some reason, I find that people think I'm such a good writer, and it's as easy as sending out your work and it automatically get published. But I'm learning from my author friends, it ain't that easy.
Seems to come down to not what you know, but who you know.
Like with anything else in life, looks like.
A big dream of mine is self-publishing. But that is frowned upon, as people don't take time to do it right, but I've met a few professional people who have self published, and man, their books look and read a whole lot better than books coming out of big publishing houses. I am in AWE of that.
And that's a thought. A thought that is a dream.
I heard once that we should spend time dreaming. Spend time viewing what we want life to be through the eyes of our imagination, the eyes of our faith.
As a result, our mind creates a roadmap to that thing.
And as you can see from this post... I have to step and jump over the roadblocks in my mind so I can use the roadmap my heart and mind has created and travel the road.
(That last line was good right there. You have to admit, that was a good friendly neighborhood Oldgirl moment).
And here's another Oldgirl moment, a question for you:
There were a few "buts" in the post above. i left them in on purpose.
"Buts" are interesting. They are big, draw a lot of attention, and they cancel out EVERYTHING that was said just prior.
Circumstances follow big "buts".
And our circumstances talk to us. They are loud, bold and brash... take up the whole dayum room, they do.
But how much time do we spend talking to our circumstances, these circumstances that keep us contained? Denying the power they have over us? Taking them by their proverbial necks and wringing the cheese out of them? Do we believe our circumstances, and get in agreement with them, or do we talk enough trash to our circumstances where we believe what we say more than what the busted circumstances say?
Just something for you... and me... to ponder.
That was good right there. So good that you need an Obama church fan.
You can borrow mine.
Dreams. I have them.
Time to start living them.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Oh well... I think this topic is more for the diva type. That ain't me. Nothing fancy here.
But it makes for a quick post.
What I wore today:
Black t-shirt with my book club name on it
Yeah! The Oldgirl is in all black today. Matches my mood, I suppose. Well, that and I just grabbed something from the folded laundry.
And I still have on my rubber band accessories, lol...
Have a great Monday!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I will look at it from a point of view of this week ahead. In the light of weeks past.
This weekend has been a weekend where I took time to myself. This Sunday, I went to see a movie I really wanted to see (Salt), and I did my grocery shopping, and I just took time to drive slow and enjoy the day for what it was. I spent a little time out on the front porch, cleaning my my dirty white wooden slat rails with soap and water, and directing a local on the cutting of hedges. Last night I enjoyed finishing up a chapter of my current manuscript. I did my chores, well most of them. I'll finish up my chores, and get ready for my week sometime this evening. And I'll work on my story a little more.
If you haven't noticed, I've been having a time of it over the past couple of months or so. On the mental tip, that is. I've lost interest in a lot of things I like to do. There has been a lot of anger and belligerence on my part. There have been more tears than I care to admit. I hardly sleep. My lupus has been flaring up something awful, and that scares me a little.
Just been having a time of it, man. More stressed than I've been in awhile.
I admit these things to myself and critically examine it all.
I'm grown and unashamed. Ain't trying to impress nobody or gain approval.
I hate to admit those things, though. I don't even talk about such to anyone. It is rare for me to have a shoulder to cry on. I do a lot of praying. I get my answers. And that's how I manage to deal. I don't like my answers, because they're not easy answeres. But I will work it.
I think the biggest highlight of the past couple of months was my trip to Arkansas. I hate traveling for work, but I really needed to get away from the shenanigans of my job. The last couple of weeks have been a bit horrid at work. And a whole nother layer is added to the madness when I have to watch those around me going through horrible treatment. I tend to be way too empathetic for my own good.
I told a coworker on Friday evening, when we were preparing to leave work...
"Next week, I'm going to have a better week. I'm going to do better."
She had that *crickets* look on her face, as she knows I've been working terribly hard.
And you know? That's where the focus needs to be. To have an attitude of doing better. Not just at work, but at home. Doing better about setting not only weekly, but daily goals for myself, and meeting them. And being really careful to be thankful for all the good that happens. I worked on my attitude last week, and things got better.
This week, life will be better. I set my heart and will to do better. Period.
Not caring what goes on. And that is something that I've let slip lately. I've been too full of care, letting the circumstances wrap their tenacles around me and snare me.
I had things to be thankful for over the last week. Some extra money fell into my hands, unexpected money. That's always good, as I am trying to do better and be better about not only saving money, but somehow being a blessing to others. I also solved a couple of problems on this difficult project we are working on, and it gets me closer to somewhere, where ever that is. And I forced myself to get back to some of the things I enjoy, and it was therapeutic in its doing.
And this week, this upcoming week, I will work on being thankful. In the midst of whatever is going on. Looking back, I find that I do this anyway, out of habit, but I want to really search my heart, and be thankful for the little things.
One of the bright spots of my week, something that made me smile already took place.
For some BIZARRE reason, Miss Celie asked me about running. Now that Oldgirl know I don't run on these busted arthritic joints. My doctor would pimp slap me if she caught wind of me out running. I couldn't tell her about running, but I was able to hook her up with a fellow tweeter who runs. And she hooked her up with a site, and I think ol' Celie gonna get out there and get started.
I'm thankful I could think of a way to be helpful in someway, albeit indirectly. And to one of my favorite people, the best writing mentor on the planet in my eyes. That makes me smile.
I know this post may not make sense to you. Sometimes I like to wipe off a few of the dirty windows of my heart, so a little light can shine through.
I just needed to write about "This week"... and my focus for the upcoming week.
And I needed to write something that I can come back and read and that'll bring me back to the proper perspective if this week looks like it's going to get out of hand.
This week, I will do better. I will be faithful and sincere, keeping myself in check, and surrounding myself with people who will help me with that.
This week will be better. I know it will.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Shame on me!
It's my 5 year Bloggaversary!
No fanfare today! You know how I like to go all out...
But this morning, I'm reflective.
5 years of blogging. That's a long time.
All I can say is, I really like my blog. And that is key for me. I'm not doing it to please others, and the topics here aren't driven by others. It is purely LadyLee. The writer side of my personality. The comdedic side of my personality. The free side of me.
On here, I feel free to express myself to myself. I write as if no one is reading, only myself, and I think that for me, is the key to making it last. I've learned through blogging that my life is incredibly unique and rich unto its ownself.
There is no one like me, Your Friendly Neighborhood Original Oldgirl...LadyLee.
There's nothing salacious or scandolous here. There are 920 posts, little pieces of my thoughts, my triumphs, my trial, my tribulations, my idiosyncracies, my ups and downs. Those of you who have read me for all my years, may know and appreciate (or detest) the full arc of who I am. You won't hear me dogging other bloggers (that would denote some self-esteem issues, and uh show that I just don't have enough to do). No special themes, no popularity schemes, none of that.
Just me, and my thoughts... My world... pure and honest as I can be.
I've had the pleasure to read the blogs of some wonderfully unique people over the years. Many have come and gone, but I'll never forget their words.
Their words, our words, are windows into our hearts.
So, I thank you for coming over and taking the time to sit a spell in the House of LadyLee.
Company is always welcome over here in these parts.
So with that, you know I have to have the virtual barbeque...
Some of ya'll not all that regular, so you know I will help you on that one. Let's start out with a little fruit.
Uncle Cre! Pull out the witch's kettle! Heat up that grease! Fry us some catfish!
We got the HOT. FRIED. FISH for the Party People!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Of course I got the grill going. It's still summertime! GRILL, GRILL, GRILL!!!
And you KNOW there's always someone hollerin' about they don't eat pork. GEEZ!! So for them, I grilled up some shrimp and crab!
I cooked up some gumbo...
And for you REAL country folk: My grandma brought over some chittlins!
Hold your horses. The salmon and biscuits are almost ready!
And for the super health conscious folks, we have all the stir-fry you can eat!
Good LAWD, there is some good eatin' up in my Party!!!!
"Where the Liquor at, LadyLee!" Blog Fam screams, even though they got a case of the "itis" right now.
I tell you... black folks. You know we love the libations...
Bitch on Ice... So nice so nice.
Come on, sang with me... *Lee does the running man dance*
"Bitch on Ice... so nice, so nice! Bitch on Ice... so nice, so nice!!!"
Grab a plate, and Party ON!!!
Oh, and don't forget to leave room for dessert.
Tiny, grab that ice cream out the freezer!
Party People, make sure you have a few of LadyLee's Oatmeal Raisin walnut cookies and Chocalate Chip Pecan cookies.
And we got a little double chocolate coffee infused cake! Have a slice!!
Whew!!! That was a GOOOD party...
Thank ya'll so much for stopping by and helping me celebrate my Bloggaversary...
Now... you ain't got to go home, but you got to get the hell up outta HERE!!!
Just kidding. Feel free to go back and grab another plate. There is plenty for all.
Again, thanks for celebrating with me.
The House of LadyLee will still be going strong in Year 6... on purpose.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Well, I don't carry a pocketbook, except to church. So right now, nothing's in the purse 'til Sunday.
I carry my stuff in a small black pouch that hangs around my neck. In that, there's my drivers license, a couple of debit cards and a couple of credit cards I needed for my Arkansas trip...
Humph. Arkansas is over. Better put those cards up.
My "bag" is my laptop bag. I carry that to work every day. Some days I carry my laptop, some days I don't. It's all according to whether I'm doing some writing or I need to transfer something and print it. It ain't work related.
So I guess I will post what's in this special bag.
1. My laptop (needed to print some of my story.)
2. A notebook with typed pages of my story (some 159 pages front and back. Good deal)
3. Blockbuster videos that need to be returned in the mail (Boondocks and Bad Asss Cinema)
4. A small notebook I use for blog ideas/topics (so I won't forget)
5. A gang of Arkansas paperwork. (Dang! Thought I took all that out of there).
6. Digital camera
7. bottle of cherry mint water
8. 12 pack of antibacterial wipes. (I am sometimes obsessive compulsive about that type stuff).
9. a baggie of oreo minis. (snuck those in the movies 2 weeks ago, just in case I got hungry. Have had them for a month and a half. Should I throw them away? NO. LOL)
13. baggie of alcohol soaked paper towels (need to clean my desk sometimes, man).
14. bills (*blank stare* one of those needs to be paid right now!)
15. meds (I take a ton of meds. Couple of bootleg prescriptions just in case I get caught out somewhere and can't get home!)
16. sanitary pads (Don't laugh. You ladies, you better have one SOMEWHERE around so you won't be looking crazy.)
That's what's in my bag!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Not their real names. Their blog names, given by other bloggers, lol.
Kentucky is 28 (She'll be 29 on the 17th). Milk and Cookies just turned 23 last week.
I look at them now, all grown up, adults, and I still think of them as little. I was 11 when Kentucky was born. I was 17 when Milk and Cookies was born.
I was there. I remember the first time I saw them.
I remember the first time I held them in my arms.
I even remember their favorite songs when they first learned to talk:
Kentucky: Chaka Khan's "I feel for you"
Kari: Quincy Jones' "Secret Garden"; BabyFace's "Whip Appeal"
(Yes, i remember. They sang those songs over and over and over. Drove me absolutely NUTS!)
Whenever anyone asks me if I have children, I say no. LadyTee is QUICK to holler "Stop lying, yes you do! She got kids. That doggone Kay and Kari! It's a long story!"
*LadyLee gives LadyTee the hard side-eye*
I'm older than them. More older sister/mama than friend that you can tell anything. They are closer in age, so they are closer in general. And I am fine with that. They have both been known to give me the side-eye when I holler:
"You gonna learn from my mistakes, or you gonna learn from your own. Any which way it goes, YOU WILL LEARN!"
They use to look at me crazy behind that one.
We don't see much of each other anymore. I don't like that, but life is life. My sister lived with me for the past 6 years. I watched her get her Masters and become a great teacher. My brother is a married man, has a son, and fights the good fight for our country over in Iraq. He's stateside now, and will be stationed in Seattle. I hope he doesn't have to go back, but if he does, I pray for his safe return.
I like who they've become.
I look forward to who they will be.
And I wish them both the best for the future!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
What I wore today:
blue jean capris
gold hoop earrings
2 green rubber bands on left arm
1 neutral rubber band on left arm
That's it. No high heels. No fancy dresses.
I work in a lab. Wear that fancy stuff if you want to. No telling when I gotta process a cooler of ROTTEN fish. That smell don't come out of your clothes. Yeah, I wore a labcoat today but whatever. I learned when I was 19 or 20 to leave your good gear in the closet. Or it will be full of holes.
And I have this really strange thing for rubber bands. I find it odd. I know Serenity23 is big on lovely accessories.
I asked her if my rubber bands counted as accessories. She said no.
Can't argue with my fellow Oldgirl.
I'll just wear my rubber bands and let them be rubber bands.
Anyway, that's what I wore today!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
This topic could go on and on and on...
From mountain high to river deep - on and on.
Actually, it's pretty hard to think about. Hard to narrow down one thing to write about.
So I won't. I'll keep it... vague.
I do believe I can say one thing concerning my beliefs that will encompass every belief that I hold.
And that is:
My beliefs are my beliefs.
They belong to me. They are solely mine. They are very unique unto myself.
You will never ever have to worry about me pointing at you and hollering "I believe this so you should believe it too."
Are you serious? Really?
Not on your life.
Yet I see it all the time. People are like that. Constantly.
I make a mental post-it note of it. I don't judge the folk, but I can stay out of their periphery. Best to be the way, because they will end up hating me.
People who attempt to force their beliefs on others, sometimes to the point of being downright argumentative, are, in my opinion, seeking some type of validation. We might be even dealing with a self-esteem issha of some sort.
Don't use me to jack up your self-esteem. Humph.
I believe what I believe. If our beliefs are similar, then cool.
But if they are different, that's cool too.
Because I believe our beliefs are born out of... something.
They are born out of our experiences, our dreams, our trials, our triumphs, our failures, our hurts, our successes, our pains, and so much more.
All of those things come together to make us who we are.
All of those things shape and mold our beliefs.
I respect that. Really, I do.
So with that said...
What right do I have to criticize your beliefs, or you to criticize mine?
Why should I have a problem with what religious views you hold? Your sexual preference? The decisions you make?
We are all free moral agents. With a sole right to make any choices we choose.
And all of those choices are born out of our belief system.
I respect that. I truly do.
So that's your Friendly Neighborhood Oldgirl's treatise on beliefs.
A little vague...
But I think you get the point.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Now what in the world is that suppose to mean?
And ya'll know me. I ain't the most learned Oldgirl in the world. I'll go look up a word in a minute.
But I won't. I am bone tired, and my mind is frickin' shot. I might get a "moment" of sleep tonight. Who knows?
Anyway, I am thinking of a couple of "moments" I had today.
Blog family cups hands to mouth and hollas "Oldgirl, do you want some cheese with that whine????"
Shut it up! I'm not whining today. I'll whine at Oscar-Tyrone if I have to whine.
This is a whine free zone tonight.
I had some funny "moments" today.
Moments that make me... smile.
I was dragging getting ready for work. I didn't even go walking. I need to do that. 2 or 3 miles and a nice sunrise gets my blood pumping, and any signs of inflammation disappear in the wind. Gives me more energy for my day!
But I was brooding. HIGHLY upset that I had to go to work.
Then LadyTee called. The convo was interesting (*excuse the ebonics. This is just how we talk.)
"Whassup, girl?" she asked.
I sat down on the bed. I was changing my socks to some whiter socks (for some odd reason). "Nothing much, man."
"You still in the bed?"
"No," I mumbled.
"You sound like it," she said, half chuckled.
"No. I just ain't been talking this morning."
"Oh, okay," she said. "Ready for work this morning?"
I mumbled something inaudible, similar to something Lurch would mumble.
"You gonna have a blessed day today, girl," she said. "It's gonna be a great day."
I mumbled more.
"Got dog, man! You ain't trying to hear that, are you, Lee?"
This caused us to both bust out laughing. She has had to hear ALL of the drama going on at work that I won't dare post here. ALL of it.
"Man, them jokers is crazy," I say.
"Well you gonna have a blessed day, and ask the Lord to deal with anybody who come at you today, before they even get to you. Just go pray. Make sure you pray."
"Whatever, man," I mumbled again.
"You REALLY ain't studyin' it."
"Just tired, big girl." I put on my sneakers, reached down and tied them. "Just tired."
I needed that call this morning. I was feeling a bit low. Just needed to lay in the bed a little longer or something.
But I did what she said. While I was putting together my usual fruit for the morning -grapefruit wedges, pineapple, watermelon, cherries, grapes, honydew melon-
And I felt A LOT better leaving the house this morning. Even got to work 30 minutes early.
Thanks LadyTee for calling. You need to call every morning and talk to my whining behind.
I worked a 9 hour day today. This is the reason why I RARELY go to work before 10. My doc wants me to work an eight hour day, and to stick as tightly to that as possible. (I'm sure my boss considers me lazy, but whatever. My doc has my health in mind).
But I got off from work around 7:40 pm. I was shooting for 6, but whatever. I actually had a productive day, and staying over an hour and a half didn't bother me.
I talked to the guard who's critiquing the current story I'm writing. He said he'd be reading tonight and will talk to me tomorrow. (This was good, as a brutha like to hold an Oldgirl up with discussion. I was ready to go).
But I got in my car.
Pulled out my leftover fruit.
Hit random on the CD player (which has a disc in it with 150 songs, so who knows what would play).
Rose Royce's "Wishing on a Star" queued up.
I turned that song ALL the way up (And I have an INSANE system courtesy of that pretty boy Tiny).
SANG that song, right along with that gal...
And I ate my fruit....
And watch this...
Commenced to spitting watermelon seeds, grapefruit seeds, and cherry seeds out the window.
Turned the head of whoever was strolling down the street.
Wanted to holler "Stop looking at me, Man! Or YOU gonna catch a seed dead in YO eye."
I sang all the way home.
And when the song went off?
I hit repeat. And sang some more.
That was the best moment of the day.
Well second best behind the first, lol.
I live for those moments.
In the morning, I look forward to packing up my fruit, having a moment of prayer...
And spitting my seeds.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
There is absolutely no judgment and no expectations.
Our friendship is the measuring stick for all my other friendships.
If you want treatment that LadyTee herself don't get, guess what: You will not be getting.
You're just not that special.
LadyTee is beyond special.
For her 40th birthday, I posted 40 reasons why she's my BFF.
I think I will post the top 10 here
I can talk to her about anything.
She does not judge me.
She loves me with no strings attached.
She takes pride in knowing me better than I know my ownself.
I can be myself around her.
She has stood up to my mother when I wouldn't or couldn't.
She reminds me be thankful in all things.
She reminds me to work on putting God first.
When I need support, I think of God first, and then I think of LadyTee.
She prays for me.
She listens to the sound of my voice, and automatically knows that I'm upset... no matter how much I try to fake it.
She loves me when I feel that no one else does.
She loves me even when I am being STUPID.
She loves me more than I love myself.
Over the course of 30 years, she has proven herself to be an excellent friend.
That's my homegirl, my BFF... forever and always.