Thursday, June 30, 2011
To wear them or not to wear them?
I don't wear them.
Don't get me wrong. I don't knock them. I just choose not to wear them.
I've gone and looked at wigs here and there over the years, but I don't like the way they look on my head. It all looked so artificial.
"You have to go to a good wig shop, and pay good money for one," my sister has said. "You can get it cut in a style, too."
She sometimes wears them. She has one so nice that I thought it was her real hair.
But it just hasn't been that important to me. I am nowhere near being a girly girl.
My regular hair has been, and is, just fine, I suppose.
My Auntie Joyce gave me a wig once. It was a wig cut in a bob style, that she'd bought at one of the local korean stores on her side of town. I remember her running out of the den and into her room, and returning with a wig in a plastic zip bag that could easily double as a little makeup bag.
She removed from the bag and fluffed it out, gave it a good comb through with her big teeth comb. She explained how she'd only paid $5.99 for it. Yes, it was cheap, but it looked nice. It didn't look artificial.
She let me have it. I liked the way it looked on my head. That was odd for me.
But I wouldn't wear it.
Whups, I take that back: I wore it around the house.
I could see the reaction from Oscar-Tyrone. He'd look me in the eyes, then up to the wig on my head, and back to my eyes.
"You like it Oscar?" I'd asked.
Of course he cannot and does not answer. Darn cat turned on his heels and walked the other way.
Cats... indifferent creatures indeed. Never artificial.
My BFF LadyTee had come over one day. We were sitting on the sofa watching television, and I had the wig nearby.
"Oh, look at what Auntie gave me!" I said, holding the wig up and fluffing it. "I kinda like it."
LadyTee was shocked. She jumped from the sofa so fast that I thought something was wrong with her. She ran into the bathroom and found a comb and came back and put it on my head. She commenced to styling. We had fun that afternoon with that wig.
"Go on, girl," she said as we gazed upon ourselves in the bathroom mirror.
I think she enjoyed that time spent together. I did too. It reminded me of a night some 20 years earlier when I'd had a passionate time with a boy and she came to the rescue in a Nursing home parking lot. She applied liquid makeup to the egg sized hickey on neck.
That's my friend. Hickey or wig, she knows how to work it out.
Nevertheless the lesson in styling the wig was something for the day. The wig was uncomfortable, a bit hot on my head. And more comfortable to wear around the house, let alone outside.
Until one day, I noticed a bit of thining at the crown of my head. A little thinning in the back also, where I could see my scalp. This didn't normally bother me, as I was accistomed to it.
But I had a dilemma: I had to go out of town to a friend's housewarming party.
And it was the first time ever that I was ashamed of my hair. Ashamed and scared.
I never know how to deal or what to do when going around new people. When you deal with younger women, who have a tendency to be waaay into themselves, you want to not look out of place, want to not have to deal with insensitivity. I remember trying to make a decision of whether to wear the wig or not.
I wore the wig... and hated it. It was hot on my head. And driving out of town, the air flowing fast through open windows blew it every which way. I remember stopping by a gas station and trying to fix it and it was not working out. So I imagine that I looked half crazy at the party.
More importantly, i felt artificial. I realized it was not me.
I just remember leaving there, sad to go, but happy to leave for the long drive home... and snatching the wig off of my head.
I remember the coolness of the night breeze on my wigless head.
It felt great.
And I promised myself I'd never be embarrased about thinning hair again.
I wore my wig one other time. I wanted to feel, I don't know, pretty I suppose. I was meeting a friend for dinner for the first time. Wanted to look my best.
I retired my wig that night when I arrived home. They just aren't my thing.
It had served me well...
...As well as could be expected.
Good song, has a lot going on, but t contains a line that I love so much.
I've highlighted the line in green
This is how I look without makeup
And with no bra my ninnies sag down low
My hair ain't never hung down to my shoulders
And it might not grow
Ya' never know
But I'm clever when I bust a rhyme
I'm cleva always on ya' mind
She's cleva and I really wanna grow
But why come you're the last to know?
I got a little pot in my belly
So now a days my figure ain't so fly
My dress ain't cost nothin' but seven dollars
But I made it fly
And I'll tell ya why
But I'm clever when I bust a rhyme
I'm cleva always on ya' mind
She's cleva and I really wanna grow
But why come I'm the last to know?
Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright yeah
Alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
This is one of those rare songs... one that encourages self-acceptance, self-worth, and self-love in the face of personal imperfecions.
I wish there were more like them.
Because it asks the questions: Can you love yourself even though you don't have the best hair, the tightest body, the flyest clothes, without your makeup, without the bra?
When we take away all that, can you stand and be proud of the woman you are?
Do you even know who you are without those things?
And are you proud of who you are, proud of the woman inside?
I mean truly proud without lying to yourself?
I can say that I love who I am... and just like the song says, I am cleva.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
I wish you were there.
Long tresses flowing from my head.
Healthy and strong, reaching down my back. . .
I wish you were there.
There is not much of a feeling that can compare to getting ready for work, looking in the mirror, brushing your hair and realizing something is wrong.
Was it just me? Or was my hair thinning? Thin in places.
Maybe it happened, or began happening when I was sick. I had dropped over a hundred pounds in three months time. My mother burst into tears when I was in the hospital, when I took my shirt off, because she could see the bones of my back pressed tight against my skin. I'd not only lost a lot of fat - I'm a big girl, and I can't be mad about that - but I'd lost much protein and muscle. Could hardly stand, let along walk. Hair was there, on my head, but it was thin and brittle.
Lupus is such a bitch. I swear.
Standing there, peering in the mirror, thinking about all of this, it still bothered me that my hair seemed to be thinning. Coming out more and more in the brush.
I needed to mention this on my next doctor appointment. I was going every two weeks, you see. I was doing great, been a couple of months since I got out the hospital. I had even gotten strong enough to walk again AND go back to work.
But moving slow...
And pulling that brush through my hair even slower...
I wish you were there.
A mighty puff atop my head.
An afro big as the moon or the sun.
Full of shiny twists, plentiful and too many to count.
Neat bantu knots, have you mistaking me for an African Queen.
Dear hair, I wish you were there.
The next trip to the doctor I made sure to write the words down, on a post-it note, not the small ones, but the next biggest size, the square ones. It was big enough to write the six words, in small neat print. It was enough to write just what I needed to remember and say:
Ask what is wrong with my hair.
I hate doctor's visits. My doctor is one of the best immunologists in the Southeast. I thank God for her. Folk fly in on big airplanes from other states to see her. Still trying to figure out how I landed in her office.
Her husband is my critical care specialist (yeah, I got it like that)... I was seeing him that day. I peered down at my neatly creased post-it note at the reminder.
"Dr. B.?" I asked, my voice low, yet bouncing off the walls of the sterile room.
"Yes?" he answered, as he looked up from the prescription he was writing for me.
"My hair," I said. I reached up, held a few strands between my fingers, as if to test that it was still there. "My hair, it is falling out, it is thinning or something. I don't understand."
He sighed. "Well, that is a symptom of some lupus sufferers. Some hair loss. Or maybe all. Must be true of you."
I stared at him. His accent is thick, steeped in Indian heritage. I heard his words, but I didn't quite understand.
He gave me the same look he gave me when he first diagnosed me, spoke first spoke the words, "Looks like you have lupus." I understood him all too well, when I quickly asked in a voice calm as the sea "Is it fatal?'"
My words didn't come as quick that day, a few months later, when he said that I may experience hair loss. I was silent. My only response, a head nod.
Because let's admit it. I'd been laid out in a hospital bed not long before that severely dehydrated, organ systems failing... other's people blood dripping in my arm through long plastic lines.
And months later, sitting in a doctor's office, asking what was happening with my hair.
Yeah, it bothered me. Up until he told me what was going on.
Hair falling out.
Somehow... after all I'd been through.
Let's just say it was important.
But just not that important.
My prayer was only to be able to fully function. To be able to take care of myself without depending on others. For complete healing in my body. For the help of the Holy Spirit in the midst of it all.
What's a little hair loss?
I am a woman. A tomboy, no less. But a warm-blooded female, with all the hopes, desires, dreams, loves, wants and needs of any other woman.
I am a woman, and I am vain like any other woman.
Our hair is like a crown on our heads. People look upon it and oooh and awe. It is a thing of admiration.
But I, your friendly neighborhood Oldgirl, have lost most of my hair, my crown of joy. It grows, but not like a weed, but like something much slower. It dances to the beat of it's own drummer. If my meds are too strong it turns to good baby hair. If the meds are a little different, male pattern baldness occurs. If there are no meds at all... well, hair just is what it is.
I wish you were there.
Long tresses flowing from my head.
Bone straight, reaching down my back.
Afro big as moon... No! Big as the sun!
Full of bantu knots or plentiful with twists.
My dear Hair.
I wish you were there.
But you're not.
And that's okay.
For I live to see a new day.
The blood is running fresh and warm through my veins.
I breathe deep into my lungs fresh air manufactured by the Lord above...
especially for me, just for me...
Your Friendly Neighborhood Oldgirl, that Original Oldgirl, LadyLee.
Hair, I wish you were there.
But you're not.
in the midst of it all,
And as I mourn for you
I can close my eyes
And give thanks
For the memory of you
And for precious life itself.
And the joy of living to see a new day.
60 minute personal writing prompt of "Hair"... with no editing or corrections. Not even going back to read it.
Imagine that :)
She didn't see anyone. And no one was skating.
Even though the strobe lights were flashing frantically. Even with the DJ talking up a storm... begging and pleading, and playing those awful siren sounds they play in the clubs.
"Chickens! Chickens! Calling all chickens! Make your way to the rink for the skate-off!"
No one was skating. Nothing moved. The flashing strobe light illuminated an empty rink, highlighting the fine shellack of the wooden floor.
And that was okay. The place had just opened. It was early afternoon. The skating rink didn't get crunk until late evening. And with the flashing lights, who could see anything, or even where they were going. That was the problem.
"Let's go, Chickens! The rink has been closed off today, just like it has been every Tuesday, just so you can skate! Let's get this party started!"
LadyLee looked all around, to see who he was talking to.
And there they were. A bunch of chickens. Cackling and cooing in a cage in the corner, almost out of sight. LadyLee walked over to them, peered down at them.
"Which one of ya'll is," LadyLee began. She raised the package, the envelope up to her face, and read the name. "Which one of ya'll is 'D.Chicken'?"
The chickens cackled and laughed, there laugh so similar that it all sounded like one laugh... one terribly annoying shrill.
"D isn't in here with us. She doesn't like the cage."
LadyLee peered down at the cage. It was made of light wire. With one push, they could all knock it down. That was unnecessary, as the cage door was wide open. She wanted to ask why they stayed in there, but thought better of it.
Maybe they wanted to be there. LadyLee didn't know. And she wasn't going to ask or argue about that.
"Where is D, then?" LadyLee asked instead.
"She's over there on the bench. Probably putting her skates on, getting ready to skate."
"And you're not getting ready to skate?"
The chicken rolled her eyes. "No. We are free from laying eggs for awhile. We all combed out our feathers and we're going to sit here and talk about our feathers and how beautiful they are."
"Well what about D. Chicken."
All the chickens really clucked then, their eyes all still trained on LadyLee.
"We don't like D."
"Because she chooses to do other things. Doesn't like to comb out her feathers and talk about them with us. And when skate day comes, she gets out there and skates."
"Nothing wrong with that, is it? I mean, it is the Tuesday skate-off."
They all clucked and yelled in glee.
"No one skates, only D. And she wins every Tuesday. Who cares. We are going to talk about our feathers."
LadyLee backed away from the cage. "I tell you what. I'm going to go find D. Give her this package."
"You do that," one of the chickens yelled. LadyLee tried to see who it was, but she couldn't tell them apart. "We're going to talk about our feathers."
"But you get to skate. Skate free. I don't see why you don't-"
"Don't you worry about it," a chicken said, cutting her off. "You go find D."
LadyLee walked off. She was not staying where she was not welcome. Obviously she interrupted something. Not sure what. They all looked alike. Couldn't be too much to talk about that would warrant not taking advantage of good music and free skating. Couldn't be much that all.
LadyLee looked around. The strobe light had stopped flashing. No need to waste a good strobe light flash when no one was skating.
And there was D. A lone chicken sitting over on a bench near the rink, bent over, fiddling around with her skates.
LadyLee walked up to her. "Excuse me, are you D.? D. Chicken?"
The chicken looked up from her skates, right at LadyLee.
LadyLee jumped back.
"Yes, yes I am. D. is my name. D. Chicken." She extended a wing for a handshake. LadyLee reluctantly grabbed it. D's feathers were soft and strong, her wingshake friendly.
LadyLee said nothing else, just continued to stare.
"What's your problem?"
"D,uh... what is up with your hair??"
"I don't have hair, LadyLee," D said. "I have feathers."
"Well what is up with your feathers?"
D fluffed her feathers with her wing. "What?"
"It's like you had a..., an a..., an accident with some Clairol, like you tried to dye your graying hair black and changed your mind, and you tried to go blonde, and-"
"These are my feathers, and I like them," D said, cutting LadyLee off. "And I don't want to hear another word about it."
"But the other chickens," Lee said, pointing over her shoulder at the caged birds. "They don't look like that."
"I'm not those chickens. I'm D."
LadyLee squinted hard. "And what's up with your beak?"
"What do you mean?" D asked in return.
"It's all fuc-, I mean, it's like it's messed up or something?"
"You trying to say my beak is fucked up?"
LadyLee held out her hands in surrender. "Why you gotta curse like that? I wasn't going to say that."
D chicken smirked, reached down to her skates and began lacing them up. Her eyes were still trained on LadyLee.
"My condition," she said. "I got a condition. It sheds."
"And your eyes," LadyLee said. "They are... they are..."
"Bloodshot red," D said, completing LadyLee's sentence. "Just my natural eye color."
LadyLee was silent. She wanted to ask what was going on, but she thought better of it.
She didn't even want to know.
"Well here's your package. You asked for this song." LadyLee held the envelope out to D.
"Yep! Read on your blog that you liked Ashford and Simpson. And I knew you would have that song.
"Wait," LadyLee said. "You read my blog?"
"Chickens can't read," LadyLee said, before she even said it.
D. finished lacing up her skate. "Says who? I can read just fine. Tried to teach the other chickens but that was a no go. Unless you're talking about feather length and definition, they don't care."
D. stood from the bench and stretched her chicken legs. She tapped her feet on the ground. The black skates lit up, flashing lights and colors so brilliant that LadyLee had to jump back.
She headed for the rink, skates flashing with every step. "Do me a favor," she called over her shoulder, "Give that record to the DJ."
LadyLee did what she was told.
"What's up with that Chicken?" she asked the DJ.
"Who, D? Nothing much. She skates. Alone. While the others watch from the cage. And she wins the contests. She won those boots last month. Today's prize is a month's worth of deluxe chicken feed."
"What does the 'D' stand for her in her name?
The DJ pulled the vinyl record from the package and placed it on the turntable. "I won't tell you. I'll let you figure that out. It's very easy."
He spoke low and slow on the microphone.
"D. Chicken break it down on the rink. Show these other chickens what you're working with."
LadyLee snapped her fingers to the song as D spun at high speeds back and forth, up and down the skating rink, feathers blowing hard, a blur on her head.
"Delores. Denice. Dana. Dorothy. Donna. Either one of those DJ?"
"Noooo!" he said. He returned his attention to the microphone. "Go D! Get busy. Get stupid. Get fresh! Go D!"
D spun round and round in fabolous spins that would make Wonder Woman green with envy.
She whisked near LadyLee.
"Chicken, I know what that D stands for!"
"What's that, LadyLee?"
"Different! Different Chicken!" LadyLee yelled. "Am I right, Chicken"
D didn't answer, only held her beak in the air and spun like only she could spin.
A Differnt chicken.
One who makes her own way, who goes against the grain of life, of popular opinion.
That was a cheeky story. But there is more to it than meets the eye.
My writing prompt was that picture of D. Chicken. I think we bust out laughing when we saw it. But I am captivated by her haunting stare. Her obvious pride in herself (if I only imagined it). She doesn't look like everyone else, not even in mentality. She is... Different.
You know, I was asked by several people if I would turn my comments off if I was to do something so risky as this... this Hair Week then.
Risky. Taking a risk of upsetting the chickens in the cage. A cage made of cheap wire, one they could easily knock down. Heck, it's a cage that has the door of escape open wide.
D is not trapped. She is free. But she loves that song. It reminds her that she was once trapped by attitudes, self-consciousness, low self-esteem, and anything else that once plagued her... all of which she is now loosed from.
Goes to show, many are trapped by their mentality. A mental prison is worse than a physical one, hands down.
No I won't turn off my comments. I have intelligent readers. Ones who step out of the cage. Enough said.
I may lose some friends. I don't care. I'm not a caged bird, you see.
I would hope that I would be more like D. Chicken. A different chicken. One that you can tell from the crowd. One who doesn't look down on others and their choices all because of a mere difference of feathers. For if I do that, it only siginifies that I'm avoiding dealing with what's really going on deep in my chicken heart.
Never a caged bird. A free one. Free to spin like Wonder Woman whenever the urge hits me.
I have such a cacophony of thoughts going on about feathers... Hair, really. You see, I don't have the freedom of standing in a mirror looking at a mirror and adoring my hair. Thank God I don't have the freedom to point at someone elses hair and say their's isn't good enough.
How cruel and inconsiderate is that??
Yet I see it all the time. Well not so much now, as I have removed many unnecessary "mental honeybuns" from my life. And I am better for it.
But I am coming up on 10 years of diagnosis of this chronic illness that has resulted in some hair loss... that has resulted in my hair growing at a 10% rate of anyone else's.
I keep my feeling concerning such deep within. No I don't cry over hair sprouting from my head.
With all the other things I have to deal with concerning my health and life in general, that would be I don't know...
And I'm far from such.
But I wanted to take a little time to examine my thoughts... on purpose. From the point of view of a woman who has an immune disease that affects her hair.
Can't twitpic that, can I?
Can't make a youtube video on that, can I?
But I can talk about it on my blog. And I can be candid, writing like no one is reading. And that I will do...
Monday, June 27, 2011
From HOTlanta, GA... in the great USA!
I had a fun-filled weekend! Even went to work for Ten minutes. (Boooo! Hiss hiss! Boooo!)
Feeling not so great this morning. Ate badly, or good, yesterday. It all depends on how you look at it.
Let's just say my week will be spread thick with my usual nice fruits and veggies and brown rice and oatmeal and COPIUS amounts of water. Copius, man.
The jankiness I feel this morning is fine. Feeling left of center and rather funkdafied is okay.
That's cuz my good friend The Green Eyed Bandit's Mama, the Great MAMA BANDIT, was in town for the weekend!
Look at her! She was cooking so hard that she didn't take off her apron when she finished. That's a real cook, ya'll!
A couple of her grandchildren were in Georgia for a short summer vacay, and she made the trek down here from Cleveland to pick up a couple grandchirrens and take them back to Cleveland!
*Mama Bandit hollers to youngest child "Boy, crank the car up and take me to Georgia to get my grandbabies!!!!!!"*
And when Mama Bandit comes to town, Mama Bandit gonna COOK!
My only question was *dialing Bandit's celly* "Yo! What time the cookout start!?"
Green Eyed Bandit said Sunday at 3! So uh, yeah... The Oldgirl was gonna be there on Sunday, around 3!!
*gassing up car and making the long drive down to the boondocks*
And there was PLENTY of good food. PLENTY...
Fruit salad! I was down for this.
Strawberry, oranges, bananas, and pineapples. GLORY! Gotta make some of that for myself!
Pork and Beans!
Mac and Cheese!
That was some GOOD stuff! Gooooood and cheeeeesy!!
Oh yes!! There were fried ribs!!!!
Here's a better picture!
The bandit crew doesn't like to grill ribs. There was no Barbeque sauce in sight. The ribs fry up like porkchops! This must be a cleveland thing.
I had some. Explains why I feel like craaaaaaap this morning. I don't eat the pork products, rarely rarely fool with meat. My poor body is like O_O.
I made chocolate chip cookies. A good 3 dozen!
I also made a batch of oatmeal raisin cranberry cookies for someone, and brought the leftovers too...
This young fellow, Nephew Bandit TJ, got a hold of my camera. He apparently likes taking pictures of himself.
Had to watch him EXTRA close. I was sitting there thinking "Little man, pleeeeease don't erase the pictures in my camera!"
The Green Eyed Bandit was kicking some sparkly sandals... witht he bright green toenail polish.
I put my own sparkly flip-flop clad foot next to hers. Her sandal had more sparkability.
My foot looks extra long. I wear a size 10. Loooks like a 12. LOL
Ohhhhh what a fine time we had! I ate so much that I had the itis! Ended up taking a very short nap on the sofa. I really needed a cot and a blanket! (And if they gave me one, I'd still be there early this good Monday merning. LOL)
Oh, it was so good to see you, Mama Bandit! She likes to lurk over here on my blog, so I know she will read this. She packed the babies all in the car at six this morning, and she's on the road home right now!
Safe travels Mama Bandit!
*Ladylee standing on front porch, facing north and waving EXTRA hard, even though Mama Bandit is probably halfway thru Tennessee right about now*
And feel free to come on back to Georgia and fry a rib or two anytime you please Honey!!!
Whooo wee! A good weekend indeed!
But this is a food-for-thought week...
The Hair Edition
Blog family whispers "You can't do that, girl. You don't have much hair."
Yes I can. I can talk about anything I wanna talk about, mayne.
No, ain't nobody talking about Twist outs and bantu knots. Nerp.
You who know me know that my hair ain't long and beautimous.
My chronic illness affects my hair. I'm in the 17% of lupus sufferers who lose hair. So there's no "Gee, look at me! Look at my hair!"
Nope. It's more of "Gee look at me! I'm ALIVE!"
I have more pressing things to be concerned about.
This is a week of my thoughts on hair. From a woman who doesn't have the luxury of worrying about it. From a woman who's feelings have been hurt by the insensitivity of others.
From a woman who is happy and free from the bondage of such.
Yes indeed. Might lose some friends this week. May gain some. Who knows. All over these dead cells, this hair, that sprouts from our heads.
Stay tuned... for Hair week.
It WILL be a good week for LadyLee! And for you too... I hope.
Every day you wake up breathing, and the blood running warm through your veins is a GOOD day... a day to rejoice!
And be happy... on purpose...
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I did a post last week on Sade and thosse $550 tickets. Those tickets are the floor seats, and they are GONE. I could probably get the nosebleed tickets- a few of those left, but I decline.
I want to see some of my favorite sangers. And they are the type that will be headlining over at the Ritz Lounge on Old National Highway in College Park for a $20 dollars and a two drink minimum, honey!
No Sade for me... Why go to the concert when Sade can come over to the House of LadyLee and give a concert?
Virtually... of course.
Some of these songs are close to 30 years old. That makes her an icon in my book. I remember being in highschool sitting in class singing some of these songs!
So here are my favorite songs.... Live at the House of LadyLee...
*Blog family sits on front lawn as Lee stands on the front porch of The House of LadyLee and introduces... Ms. Helen Folasade Adu*
"Hang on to Your Love"
This is the first song I ever heard by Sade. Love it!
*lee snapping fangers REAL hard*
"Is it a Crime"
*lee hugging self and swaying real hard*
This is my all time FAVORITE Sade cut. Definitely in my top five of favorite songs ever! I love the whole emotion of it. EVERY female has felt like this. Yes Sir! It almost brings a tear to my eye!
"Your Love is King"
This was another song we sang in high school, some 26 or 27 years ago.
I'm digging the steps she does to this song at the 3:20 minute part... 4 steps forward, 4 steps back. I could be her back up dancer. I could learn that in a couple of minutes...
LOL! Not sure if that was the British version of the electric slide or what! But I loved-ed it!
"Never as Good as The first time"
One word: Catchy! Fast for Sade! Love it!
*blink*blink* But this is some ol' slow one minute footage. Hark, scroll to bottom for the song!
"Turn My Back on You"
I couldn't find concert footage of this song. Guess it wasn't all that popular. But it is one of my favorites indeed!
She running around in a suit. That must be where Janelle Monae got that tuxedo uniform idea from. I don't like it. But you do you, Sade.
I love this song! I remember being in 11th grade, and us just loving the part "Don't need to aaaaask" LOL.
"Cherish The Day"
That song was off the Love Deluxe album. I loved that album...
"Never as Good as the First Time"
Couldn't find any concert footage of this song. I am sure there is some. But I LOVE this song. Probably because it is fast, and quite catchy.
*lee snapping fangers hard dancing all around the front porch*
Thanks for attending the free Sunday night Sade concert at the House of LadyLee!!
Friday, June 24, 2011
You know, I love to see people do different things. Just running in a direction away from whence the general crowd runs. It's quite refreshing!
I don't see enough of it. You will feel my disdain for such next week during a special food-for- thought week...
But anyway, when one of my favorite Chickens, who I affectionately refer to as "That Southern Black Gal", was talking about wanting to go skydiving as one of her 35 things to do before she turns 35, well I was like O_o.
I've never known anyone that jumped out of a plane. That just ain't something that everybody run to do.
So when she commence to actually doing it, my heart beat a tad bit faster...
Exciting Chicken. Dangerous Chicken.
She even posted a video of this event. I was mesmerized.
My cubicle mate CowgirlCre and I watched this video over and over again... Kinda like the crew in Menace II Society were watching that liquor store robbery video tape of when Old Dog shot the Koreans dead... and Cane was standing there like a punk drinking that Forty of OE.
And you know how we do... We are the peanut gallery...
And let the notes from the peanut gallery begin...
*LadyLee and CowgirlCre share a 10 foot cubicle... LadyLee sends video link to CowgirlCre then rolls her chair over to sit next to Cowgirl Cre so they can watch together*
LadyLee: Listen to that laugh of hers.
CowgirlCre: Yeah, she laughing.
*LadyLee and Cowgirl look at each other and do the Southern Black Gal laugh*
"Ha ha ha HAAAA!!!"
CowgirlCre: Look at her friend over there waving.
LadyLee: *mimicking Southern Black Gal's voice* "That's my friend!!!!"
*LadyLee and CowgirlCre and laugh and wave at each other*
LadyLee: That plane is moving, ain't it? I do believe that's when I'd start crying down, man! Crying! Time it start moving!
CowgirlCre: And everybody chit-chatting!
CowgirlCre: There go her friend!
LadyLee: Southern Black Gal got the finer instructor!
CowgirlCre: Look at dude. He just chit-chatting, and she just praying down, and he just talking hard.
LadyLee: All I know, they sure up kinda high. They up high!
CowgirlCre: There go her friend! Her friend is bout to jump!
CowgirlCre: Look at her, she got her hand on her chest. She praying "Oh Lawd!" Got her head all back, she trying to stay in the plane!
LadyLee: He interrupting her prayer time. Time to jump, gal! Stop praying and look at the camera, Southern Black Gal!
LadyLee: Look at the look on her face.
CowgirlCre: And look at dude! Smiling and waving. Giving the peace sign.
*LadyLee and CowgirlCre give each other the peace sign, thumbs up, and wave at each other*
LadyLee: *frowning at screen* Wait, did she pass out? She's not moving!
CowgirlCre: Her feet! You can see her feet! Look at her feet!
LadyLee: I think she passed out!
[I tweeted her. She said she didn't pass out. We don't believe that. Not for one moment.]
CowgirlCre: She passed out and woke back up. She's smiling hard now! That's cuz she know the chute opened up!
LadyLee: But look! They still a long way up! Dang!
CowgirlCre: That looks like asphalt.
LadyLee: Dude don't aim for the asphalt! Land on the grass! The dirt will do. Not the asphalt!
CowgirlCre: She sure is quiet.
CowgirlCre: Where the heck is her helmet?
LadyLee: Naw, she don't have on a helmet. That's odd.
CowgirlCre: I wear a helmet when I ride my horse. He has a helmet on. Where is hers?
LadyLee: Yeah he has on a helmet.
CowgirlCre: Maybe it's a natural hair thing, and she don't need a helmet.
*Lee and Cre fall out laughing hard... A bit TOO hard*
CowgirlCre: She doesn't need a helmet... Her natural hair will protect her.
LadyLee: And where are her glasses? Did they fall off!
CowgirlCre: No helmet! No glasses!
*scrolling video back so we can see what happen to her glasses*
We couldn't figure that out. I tweeted her about it. She said he told her to pull them down around her neck so she could see. CowgirlCre thought it was a piece of plastic around her neck, and wondered from whence it came.
We watched this over and over and over. Our commentary was more detailed than this! Couldn't put it all! It was exciting! Made my heart beat fast!
*Lee and CowgirlCre smiling hard, flashing peace signs, thumbs and waving like the instructor*
Yes, yes... this is how us government workers spend our free time in the cubicle.
That video was waaaay exciting. Just watching the Chicken in the Sky was like being there.
She said it was more than she expected. I can only imagine!
I'm just glad she stepped out and fulfilled a dream.
Check out her post on this experience!
This has been "Crazy Convos" week. I didn't say anything because I didn't know if I could pull it off. But I did! And it was fun.
You all have a great weekend! On purpose, man!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
One that's undergoing gentrification. So, it's considered a pretty bad area but they are trying to spruce it up with nice houses and even nicer people.
I'm not sure it's working.
And that doesn't bother me. I like my little house. I lived downtown in a nearby hood some 16 years ago while I was in grad school, and I loved it. Always wanted to live back in the area instead of waaaay out in the burbs. This has been great, as my job is 5 miles away, and I only fill my gas tank up once every 3 weeks on average. So I'm good.
But the locals are interesting. Some crackheads. Some prostitutes. Some folks just trying to make it. And they are all interesting.
I don't turn my nose up at people. We were and are all a bad decision or two away from their condition. So I don't look down on them. I've gotten cussed by folks. I've gotten helpful advice from the same folks. They are people.
One of the most interesting is Mr. Thomas. He cuts my grass.
As you know, I bought a lawn mower back in May. Started cutting my own grass.
But this past weekend it was waaaay too hot to be out there fooling with it. So while I was driving down the street on Saturday, I saw him lumbering about with his lawn mower looking for yards to cut. I gave him a 20 dollar bill.
"Do my yard, Mr. Thomas. It's just too hot out here."
And I came back to a freshly cut yard.
I was relaxing in the house, and decided to go outside and check on him. He was next to the porch steps, making a sandwich.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to make me a sandwich, girl!"
A plastic bag of bread sat on the porch steps.
Ick. I don't like white bread. He seems to.
"What kinda sandwich you making?"
"Don't worry about it, girl!"
Not sure what he was eating, but he was enjoying it.
I got a little nosey. I saw that he was making a sandwich from a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Of course I started tripping.
"Yuck! Ewwww! Mr. Thomas, how you gonna make a sandwich out of that! Yuck!!!!"
"Hush up, girl! It's good."
I continued to whine. He continued to eat.
I sat on the brick porch steps. Got a little bit more nosey.
And I saw something interesting in the sack of bread loaves.
He had the GOOD bread in there. My eyes lit up.
"Yo, you got that wheat bread. That whole wheat bread. That Sara Lee."
"Yeah," he said. "You want some of it?"
I was tempted. But I don't eat a lot of bread. Plus, I can't take food from a man barely making. I can't take anything from a man who lives in a shed behind Rat Cheese's house. (I still gotta go meet this infamous Rat Cheese. I want to know how he got that nickname.)
"Where you get it from?" I asked.
He pointed at a house across the street from me, and two doors down. "That lady over there. She get it free."
I'm looking at the house, and at him, wondering silently to myself if he stole it, or if they stole it. Everybody know I don't buy stolen stuff. People come around with watches and ceiling fans... all kinds of stuff!
Although I did buy something once that had questionable origins, some 3 or 4 years ago.From that doggone Snake.
And it still cracks me up, because I still have to hear about this from him. He's STILL hot about it. I just laugh at him.
He showed up at my house one night, ringing the doorbell hard. High as a kite!
"Who is it!" I hollered.
"Snake! Open the door, girl!"
I opened the door. I posted about this a few years ago. I will just let you read it.
That doggone SNAKE!! Snake came by my house on Saturday night wanting to sell me a big bag of cat food.
And it was that good cat food, the kind that Oscar-Tyrone eats, you know. I make it a rule not to buy anything from the locals, as it most likely belongs to someone else. This is easy when he's trying to sell off a watch, jewelry, TVs, plants and trees. I just yell "NO, SNAKE!"
But cat food?
I said no. I imagined him and his crew going somewhere and knocking off a vet shop or something, which is some complete craziness. But he said it was the wrong food for his cousin's kitten, blah, blah, blah, etc... Whatever he said, I believed him. I bought the 30 dollar bag of food for about 10 bucks in quarters.
He later told me where he got it from...
Let's just say... HE TRICKED ME!!! I'm not even going to tell you where he got it from.
Pissed me off because I broke my rule: don't buy nothing from the locals... HUMPH!!
Humph. I am requiring that he write a poem on that subject.
Oscar Tyrone, didn't seem to mind. He watched me as I drug the food back into the house.
He yawned and went back to sleep.
Ha Ha! Funny! I still laugh about that to this day, as Snake gives me the hard side-eye.
If Oscar wasn't worried about it that day, then I wasn't either. He ate well for about four months.
That was the last thing I bought from a local. And I bought it because Snake was NOT leaving my porch. I went in the house and found those quarters in my change cup.
No I didn't want Mr. Thomas' bread this weekend...
Although that Sara Lee 100% whole wheat loaf was tempting.
Now if Mr. Thomas brings by a bag of cat food... well that's another story.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
It wasn't always that way. She's 11 years younger than me. I notice young people have a one track mind. And if you're not on that track, THEIR track, then something is wrong with you. And I know, nothing is wrong with me.
She's about to turn 30, and she understands that big sister knows a little something about life. So over the past couple years we can have good meaningful talks.
And funny ones, too...
She called me up this past week, giving me the goings-ons in the family. (I'm like a UFO when it comes to family. Kentucky is the family diplomat). Then she got over into some of her activities. I was laid out across the bed, enjoying the whir of the ceiling fan, and listening to her chat on about things.
Then she started talking about one of my favorite sangers.
"Lisa, Sade is coming to town."
"Yeah. She's going to be down at the Phillips Arena."
I love some Sade.
Every since I first heard her in high school, some 26 or 27 years ago...
Can't believe she's been around that long.
Some of her songs... "Sweetest Taboo", "Is it a Crime", "Cherish the Day"... they still make me feel some kind of way when I hear them, all these years later.
And I know every word to at least 10 songs!
"You going?" I asked my sister.
"Tickets are sixty-eight dollars."
"That's a lot, girl," I said. "And you were only 3 or 4 years old when she came out. I was in high school. You don't remember her like I do."
"That's the nosebleed section."
"The good seats are going for $550.00."
I sat straight up in bed. "What??"
"They're $550.00, Lisa."
"Five-hundred and fifty dollars??!?!?!"
I made so much commotion that Oscar-Tyrone woke up from his nap and left the room.
"Man," I hollered, my voice an octave higher than usual. (This is always the case when I am excited or agitated. "Ain't no way I'd pay that much to see her."
"Me neither," my sister said.
We went on and on about this.
"Well," I said. "She can charge that much. Afterall, she is Sade. I can only remember her stopping through the ATL one or two other times."
Unh-unh," my sister mumbled. "That's too high."
"Who's opening for her?"
*LadyLee launches into a very loud off-key version of Ordinary People*
"We just ordinary peeeeoppple! Man, I don't wanna see that dude. That's the only song by him that I know. And if I'ma pay $550.00 for a ticket, then I wanna sit UP on the piano bench with the dude and I wanna sang the song with him."
*LadyLee continues to sing Ordinary People*
"I wouldn't pay that much, still," Kentucky said.
"I would pay that much. Yep," I said. "Only if I get to be front row center, and they got that little space right up front cleared up for me, so I can dance, dance, dance as she sings. And she better come out on that stage giving me shout outs!"
"No, still too much," my sister said.
"I'd pay it. She have to sing ALL my favorite songs. I don't wanna hear nothing from those last couple of albums. I wanna hear everything off the greatest hits and the first couple albums. "she better walk out on stage shouting me out on every song!"
Kentucky laughed. "Well you get a gift bag, Lisa."
"A gift bag? What it got in it?"
"You get a Sade T-shirt, and some other stuff."
"A Sade t-shirt? What???! I better get a Sade dress. And some Sade sandals."
"Well, it's a nice bag."
"Whatever," I said. "Let me tell you something, Kentucky. She better come out on stage singing and put my name in the song. In every song.
I particularly love "Is it a Crime." That is one of my top five favorite songs.
And Sade better sing the long thirty minute version and she better be shouting me out the whole time.
"Is it a crime, LadyLee!!?" Sade hollers in her thick british accent.
"No it's not, Sade!" I yell back. "Ain't no crime to love that man the way you do, Oldgirl! I've loved a man that hard too! You not alone, honey! It's not a crime!! "
Ha. Ha. For $550, me and Sade will be conversing through EVERY song!
"Well," I finally said to my sister. "That's a once in a lifetime opportunity."
"I'm not going."
My sister... shes a cheapskate.
"I play Sade during the kid's naptime," my sister added. "I play the Jezebel song. They can sing that song, every word. On key."
Hard to imagine a bunch of 4-year-olds singing "Jezzzzeeeeebel! Was born with a silver spoon in her mouth!!!!
I talked to my best friend LadyTee later that night. Told her about the tickets.
"Ain't no way," LadyTee said.
"I know that's right, girl. And Kentucky said the nosebleed tickets are $68.00."
"Still." LadyTee said.
"That's too much to not be able to see her."
"Man," LadyTee said. "You gotta give up later that night if a man take you to that concert."
"I mean, LadyTee continued. "You can't even get out of that one. You HAVE to get busy."
Yes for $550.00.... you know what it is. lol
"I ain't worried about it," LadyTee said. "Ninjas gonna have the cellphones. It'll be up on youtube."
"Aint't the same, girl."
"Whatever. I'll catch it on youtube."
I guess I'll catch it on youtube, too. That, and listen to the greatest hits at home. Close my eyes and pretend Sade is right there.
You the man, Sade! But not for $550.00!!!
I remember when tickets were no more than 20 dollars. I paid that much for the fresh fest and Beastie Boys. MC Hammer, Jodeci and Boyz II Men cost me $30 bucks 20 years ago. And I was HOT behind that because I took a 3 year old Kari and a 10 year old Kentucky with me. I was hot about $90 tickets.
I guess times have changed.
But Sade doesn't have the highest ticket prices.
The highest I've heard about is Elton John out in Vegas. $1200.00.
For that much, I better be sitting UP on stage at the piano bench with him... and he better only sing the songs I know... for six hours straight.
Like that "Benny and the Jets"!
(Elton John on Soul Train! And look at blogger Chele behind him in the brown skirt dancing down. LOL. Worse soul train dancing I've ever seen!! You can't get down to that song!)
For $1200, he'll have to change the Lyrics to "LadyLee and the Jets!"
Shoot, man... he'll have to change it waaaay up to "LadyLee and the Chickens".
$500. $1200. Hey, you do you. If it's your favorite sanger, I suppose you will pay any price. Knock yourself out.
But not your girl. Not LadyLee.
Not when I have the CD, and access to itunes.
*LadyLee putting on her headphones and turning the music way up*
I got my imagination, honey.
And that's all I need.
Ya'll have a good Wednesday... on purpose!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
"Why LadyLee," Blog family yells. "Why"
Because I'm a STALKER!!! I stalk Tayari.
She's found a decent way to deal with me, though.
I think I will just befriend her, she thinks to herself.
Somehow I got Tayari's phone number. I don't remember how. But I have her home phone number, her cell number, even her Mama and nem number. Not sure how that happen.
Anyway, she has my cell phone number too. And when the phone rings and her name comes up, for a long time, a couple years, there was a hard stare, followed by the widening of the eyes... soon followed by a gasp and and a yell of... "It's Tayari Jones calling me! My favorite author is calling me!"
I said this in the lab a few times. Other coworkers peered at me... curiously.
And for some reason, she tends to read my blog. So if she sees's something interesting, she won't leave a comment. She will just call. For example, I wrote a post about my exasperation over a fellow wanting to buy me a $500 dollar purse, and uh... what that might entail.
Tayari called me about it and figured out where I could get the purse. Interestingly I didn't really pay much attention to this 10 minute convo. I was spending my time trying to make sure I enunciate (if you know me in person, I am the most ebonically inclined Oldgirl in the world.) I was sitting at a computer trying my best to fool with a faulty program and pull data for some weird vegetable, grinning ear to ear. I hung up and whispered to a coworker "That was my favorite author. That was Tayari Jones. And we talked about pocketbooks."
Coworker peers at me... curiously... as I go into semi-hyperventilation mode.
Fast forward some three years.
I ain't all that starstruck with her. Her master plan of befriending the stalker LadyLee has worked wondrously. Me and my sister were having a convo about stalking, and how one of her friend's stalks a chick, and how it unnerves everybody. I said how I stalk Tayari Jones.
"That don't count, Lisa," my sister said. "It isn't the same thing. Tayari is like, our cousin or something. It don't count."
My sister Kentucky heard a few choice words from me that day. She kept hollering "What are you talking about, Lisa? It's not the same!"
Anyway, to the point of this story.
Tayari took some new photos, some publicity shots or something like that.
She told me about them. I was sitting in the cubicle area. Me and Cowgirl Cre pulled them up.
And the comments from the peanut gallery began.
We were very interested in the following picture, the one she uses now on twitter.
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee peering at the screen curiously*
CowgirlCre: Look at the pretty dress. It's yellow!
LadyLee: And what is that pattern, some flowers? *peering closely at the screen, taps pen on computer screen* No that's some dots or something. What is that?
CowgirlCre: Can't tell. But it's pretty. And it's all sunny outside. That's a good picture.
LadyLee: Sure is. And her hair is the bomb, too.
We continue pondering the picture.
LadyLee: Cre, check out that lipstick. That looks a little like the shade I wear.
CowgirlCre: What is that?
LadyLee: That's that plum or something like that. I like it darker. But that is close. Her's looks expensive, like it won't rub off.
At this time Coworker Hen-Dog walks up.
Hen-Dog: What ch'all doing?
LadyLee: Looking at some new photos of Tayari.
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee continue discussing the dress and the lipstick*
*Hen leans down and peers at screen over my shoulder and starts making cat-call noises.
LadyLee: What is your problem?
Hen-Dog: I like what I see. whooo!
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee frown up*
LadyLee: Ain't nobody thinking about that, boy.
Hen-Dog: I'm a man! I don't care about the dress and the lipstick. I'm looking at what's in the dress!
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee look back at Hen-Dog and frown up even more*
LadyLee: BOY GO AWAY. * lee shoves Hen-Dog back away from us*
LadyLee: I wanna know where she got that lipstick from!"
CowgirlCre: It is a nice shade.
Lee dials Tayari's phone number.
LadyLee: Hey Celie, what's up!? We're looking at your new pictures. They are nice!
Tayari: Thank you, Nettie!
LadyLee: Check it out, girl. What kind of lipstick you wearing and where you get it from?
An interesting conversation about lipstick and chestnut lipliner ensued. And something about the MAC counter at the mall. I was a bit O_O because it sounded expensive.
My lipstick cost 99 cents, and I get it from the Chinese people store. Tayari's lipstick cost muuuuuuuuch more than that, and you have to add the price of the chestnut lipliner on to that.
Tayari: Just go to the mall. The MAC counter at the mall.
I have heard of MAC. My little blog sister Serenity23 seems to spend much time there.
LadyLee: Honey, I don't go to the mall.
Tayari: Well send CowgirlCre. She'll get it for you.
*LadyLee giggles HARD*
I am a tomboy. Not going near the mall. CowgirlCre is semi-tomboy with girlie tendencies from time to time. But she ain't going to the mall either. CowgirlCre trying to ride a horse, man. No mall shopping. We are Wal-mart chicks!
Convo continued, with Tayari trying to convince me of this.
It was toooo funny. (Okay, you had to be there.)
I told CowgirlCre of this. Of course she frowned up.
"Me going to the mall?" CowgirlCre uttered in disbelief. "That's like me asking her to go to buy some horsefeed!"
LOL!!! That was funny!
(okay, you had to be there. Us... imagining the girly Tayari walking out of a store with horsefeed. LOL!!!!!!!!)
I had an interesting idea. I looked over my shoulder... Hen-Dog was over in his cubicle.
LadyLee: When you go to the mall, can you get some lipstick for me?
Hen-Dog: Sure can!
Hen-Dog... He's the type of brother you can send to the store to get tampons and pads. He don't care. Just happy to help if you in need. And the next time he was at the mall, he could roll up in the MAC store and purchase some lipstick and liner.
That was all funny to us. Nope, I never got the lipstick. But it is amazing how Tayari can engage me in a convo about purses or lipstick. She is the ONLY one who can do that... It's like she's telling a wonderful story or something. She makes it interesting.
So one day, I will get my lipstick... I will go to the mall.
And maybe we can talk Tayari into stopping by the feed store and getting CowgirlCre's horse some horsefeed.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Ten winners... hope you see your name!
Looks like Lil' Serenity Chicken had herself an... accident. Either that or she had a bad run-in with Oscar-Tyrone!
But she hollered in her chicken voice...
"I'm alright LadyLee!! Even though I can't walk, I'm stillll a soldier!! Draaaaaag me by my wing over to the winners circle, LadyLee! Draaaaag me!"
Poor chicken. She will be alright. Her fragile butt is going to be undergoing major superglue today. If that don't work, she's gonna get some Now and Laters prosthetic feets.
If you can't see your name above? Here are the winners!
Do you see your name? Congrats!!
Email your address to Oldgirlladylee@gmail.com. You can also use the earthlink address. But I wouldn't do that. I am getting spammed outta control with the drug emails and the erectile dysfunction email over there. Pissing me off. So if you send your addy, PLEASE put BOOK GIVEAWAY in the subject line. That way I will know it's not spam.
Now you got a week to send me your address. Some of you aren't regular readers of House of LadyLee, and I can't contact you. If you don't send your info, then I kept the sack of names. New names will be pulled. Don't think I won't do it!
I don't know what to do about the gift card. A person who won a book, won the gift card too? How lucky is that broad!?
I asked Tayari how much the gift card should be for. I was gonna let her pick the amount.
She was like "Hunh?"
I still explained it to her. She was all O_o.
I finally told her... "Don't worry about it, Lil' SWATS girl! Don't worry about it!"
Congrats to the winners!
This is the extent of my Monday Morning post... This week was suppose to be a food-for-thought week. We are pushing that to next week.
Have a great Monday! Have a great week!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I was looking through a prayer book I recently purchased entitled My Daily Psalms and Prayers. It gives a prayer for each day of the year, based on a bible verse from the book of Psalms. I like this book because it's not all angelic and lovely. It touches upon real life problems, habits, and concerns.
The subject of the June 17th prayer was fathers.
I thought I would post it here, and give my thoughts on it.
Psalm 68:5 Father of orphans and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation
With all the Father's Day ads, I think of you, the Father of all creation. Yet I realize that there are all kinds of fathers in the world. Some are absent or abusive; some are distant and demanding; and some are caring and giving. When some people think of you as a father, fear and anger consumes them. But here the Psalmist calls you 'father of orphans'. For anyone who needs a good father, you step in. Whatever failings any earthly father has, you make up for that earthly father. There is genuine fatherly love available to us all. Thank you my 'heavenly dad.'"
I thought that was a nice prayer.
It is something else how the word "father" can elicit a wide range of emotions. We all have had fathers, and the verse above describes the plethora of thoughts which spring to mind: distant, demading, absent, abusive, caring, giving.
And in that range, I see something... our lives can be shaped by that.
Mother's Day reeks complete havoc on my heart moreso than Father's day. My mother is an emotionally unavailable woman, and I don't have a relationship with her. Same with my Father, but for whatever reason, it doesn't bother me as much. I think they are good people. It's not that I am worthless to them, it's just that parenting isn't their thing. I don't hold that against them. I am here now, and I have my on path and purposes in life.
But I recently met with my father some two years ago when I was 39. It was one of those life goals things, something that I put on a bucket list of sorts.
"Before I die, I want to talk to my father."
My goal was to do this by the age of 30, but I was chicken. It took 9 years and much courage to do so. I called him a couple of times over the years, but there was no convo. I think it was such a shock that he didn't know what to say. I sent him a note in the mail of wanting to meet with him with no expectations, just to meet him. He ended up calling and I detailed the going-ons of it all in several posts (Crazy Convos with my father and Face to Face with my father).
That was an interesting meeting, albeit only fifteen minutes or so. I learned much about myself through convos with him. I am a quiet individual. I get that from him. I tend to be a loner. I get that for him. I have an interesting sense of humor. He has the same. And I hate being a bother to people. He is the same.
I have only seen him once since then. His brother Willie died, and I attended the funeral. (See A Most... Humble Occasion and A Most... Humble Occasion, part II). I sat in the back of the church. It was amazing to see so many people that look like me. I guess I never really thought about such things.
I think that one of the most important moments of my life was shaking his hand and telling him that I was sorry about his brother. He was so shocked to see me, he wouldn't let my hand go. The man had tears in his eyes. That was just way too... I don't know. I ain't use to eliciting that type of emotion from anyone.
So today on father's day, no, I won't call him. Saying Happy father's day to a man trying his best to deal with his past concerning his only child seems... inappropriate. I think of him daily. Pray for him daily. Hope he comes to terms with his life. I've learned from him to work hard now, while I am relatively young, to come to terms with the issues of my own life, as I don't want them to haunt me.
Today I don't holler the statuses resulting from hurt and pain that are being placed on Facebook or Twitter. Thank goodness that I'm not on those anymore, only rarely.
I do agree with the prayer above... when I think of a father, I think of a range of things... demanding, distant, absent, abusive, caring, giving.
I think these actions are characteristic of not only fathers, but of human beings in general.
I see them in my ownself.
I hope my father is well today. I know he thinks of me as I think of him. I hope he comes to terms with it all, as I myself continue to do.
I just wanted to post my thoughts on today. My own words.
Happy Fathers Day to all the fathers of the world, including my heavenly Father.
Make it a great day... on purpose.
Friday, June 17, 2011
I sat it down on my desk. I went to the breakroom for paper towels.
When I returned, Lil' Serenity Chicken was standing there. Staring at my hot dog...
I don't know if she was eyeing that hot dog or the fruit, but she was one step from getting backhanded up and out of the cubicle area...
I love Now or Laters. We called them "Nawl Latas" when I was a child.
I found those at a local Chinese restaurant.
But lo and behold, here comes Lil' Serenity... I caught her trying to make off with my Now or Laters.
Frickin' Chicken. Trying to make off with my candy! Even balancing the cherry flavored ones on top of her scarfed head. Knocked her over for that. Put her back over on top of the laptop, where she belongs, where she can guard the cubicle like she suppose to be doing.
Then the ultimate infraction occurred... ULTIMATE.
Lil' Serenity followed me home. I woke up early that morning to find her perched in the dining room... staring at me.
Frickin' Chicken was trying to either steal my new bombastic laptop speakers...
OR she was trying to steal my copy of Tayari Jones' Silver Sparrow.
*LadyLee proceeds to beat the cheese out of Lil' Serenity Chicken... then heats up HAWT grease and considers frying her up for dinner*Lil' Serenity Chicken!
You can have my hot dog!
You can have my fruits!
You can even have my bombastic speakers.
But you CANNOT have my personally autographed copy of Silver Sparrow.
You can't even have the TEN signed copies of Silver Sparrow that I'm giving away!
For those are in the laundry room, behind closed doors. They are sitting atop the washing machine, next to neatly folded washclothes...
And That Original Oldcat Oscar Tyrone is guarding them...
And he's hongry! Because I haven't fed him in a few days, so he WANTS you to try something, Lil' Serenity Chicken... He WANTS you to try something.
He will eat you! Red Polkadot scarf and all! Eat you alive!
Yeah, Mon... Ten copies of the Sparrow...
I think I may be late on this one... Seems like EVERBODY got the book already!
Win a SIGNED copy. Give your copy away to somebody. Be a blessing, honey!
Comment to win. Anyone who has commented on the last 2 Silver Sparrow Giveaways and didn't win... well, your name is still in the bag. If you commented multiples times all week on any post, your name goes in the bag.
And if you have a book, you are entered for a gift card drawing.
You don't know how much the gift card is for. Last one was for $40 at the store of your choice. Blogger Chele won that one. She received a Target gift card, and she is STILL twirling 'round and 'round in her living room like Wonder Woman listening to the lovely Ipod shuffle she purchased.
*watching as Chele twirls herself dizzy*
So enter to win...
Why am I doing this? To support ol' Tayari...
I was in on this book when she was working on it... There were numerous discussions between us about it. I just remember the whole process, from seed to manisfestation!
Man, I wanted to write that chick a check when she was here. Put it in her personal offering plate! I love being around to witness something so special happen, with all it's trials, tribulations and triumphs!
I want to be a blessing to my friend, ya'll!
And shoot man... It's a TERRIFIC book!!! Tayari is the baddest writin' Diva in the Solar System!
So enter to win!
Ya'll have a GREAT weekend!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Him in his army gear.
Me and Cowgirl Cre were pondering this picture.
"He looks dangerous," I whispered.
Cowgirl Cre nodded in agreement.
"Look at that grass," I said. I tapped my LCD screen with my ink pen. "That is not Georgia!"
"Sure ain't, girl." CowgirlCre replied.
I think that's is a picture in Iraq. He's stationed in Seattle now. Thank goodness he's back.
Milk and Cookies loves motorcyles. This absolutely unnerves me.
Looks like now he has Milk and Cookies, Jr. all excited about motorcyles.
When Milk and Cookies smiles, his smile is quite toothy. He needs to turn the wattage down.
Orthodenture... it sure works, and he don't mind showing it off.
He even got the baby sitting up on a minibike all by himself.
Lawd have mercy.
That child is going to be riding his own motor bike before we know it.
Whelp! Best to get him use to it now while he's young!
Ya'll have a Terrific Thursday!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Here's that Original Oldcat Oscar-Tyrone.... He likes to lay in the sunlight that comes throught the window, however small or large the bar of light is. So it's always interesting to see him move with the sunlight.
Here he is laying on the sofa.
I have a habit of getting out of the bed in the mornings and dragging a pillow and cover to the sofa and laying out and watching the news. I was suprised to see him up there on the sofa, but he is chasing the light.
I called his name. I think he's upset that I disturbed him.
That's right... kale chips. Dried kale. I've seen the recipe in my Vegetarian Times magazine. I have a dehydration setting on my stove, so I should try it out. But I was walking through Whole Foods, and I saw them.
Looks like something Oscar-Tyrone hacked up. That coconut looks like maggots. Nasty. But they taste good. Too sweet for my taste, though. But I may try to dehydrate some kale in my own oven... minus all the sugar and coconut.
I had pizza this week. I found a very thin whole wheat three cheese pizza at the Farmer's Market. I like wilted spinach for a topping. Sprinkle with peppercorns and it's on!
Good eating! I usually load my pizzas up with a ton of veggies but this time, a little spinach was just fine....