Hard Conversations with Grandma

(Conversations week sweepstakes, June 17-June 30, continues. Comment for a chance to win fabulous cash prizes. See Conversations Week post for details)

My grandma...

My sweet Grandma is finally home from the hospital...

Without a boatload of drama though.

But I can still hear voice, even now, as she sighs and looks at me and says

"I'm so happy to be home."

That's because she wasn't home at first. When she was released from the hospital, she was released to my mother.

O_o.

My mother had been doing a ton of whining about taking care of Grandma. But my Mother and my Aunt and my Uncle have been beefing for a minute, so Grandma basically turned into a pawn.

A pawn. Geez.

Grandma was suppose to go home to her own house. But my mother had been down at the hospital bogarting the room. We all figured out the times she was there, so we would visit when she wasn't there. For me, it meant going really late at night, after 10.

Yes, they'd been arguing and fighting down at the hospital.

That is some craziness. And you know me... LadyLee is nowhere around that foolishness. AT ALL.

So interestingly, my Aunt and Uncle had gone down to the hospital to visit Grandma, and grandma was gone. Gone with my mother. This pissed my Aunt and Uncle off and they went out to my mother's house. With the police.

Sigh. Drama.

Somehow Kentucky got involved in all this. I was coming from Baby Bandit's graduation party, when I noticed a bunch of text messages on my phone. I stopped at a gas station and called cousin Kim, who was super concerned, and who was still a bit shaken up from being threatened by my Mother a few days before. (Yes, Kentucky had to talk our cousin down from much crying; I had to talk her down some more after that.)

So I tried to call Kentucky so I could tell her to leave. I couldn't reach her. This means that I had no choice but to head over there... and snatch her out of the way of this mess.

But Kentucky called me. And she was a bit perturbed.

Now, she and I have been battling back and forth (in an agreeable manner) over all of this.

"These some grown azz negroes," I've been hollering. "These negroes was grown before we was even born. Let these grown azz negroes figure this out. Stay out of the way!"

Kentucky snickers in the middle of her rebuttle to me. She doesn't do too well when I get so mad that I fall headfirst into ebonics language. She doesn't know whether to take me seriously or not.

I am really proud of my sister, though. She singlehandedly mediated and brokered a turnover of Grandma from my Mother to my aunt with no violence. I am amazed.

I didn't think she could do that. And that was the reason I was on my way over to snatch her out the house, put her in her car, and make her go home.

But like I said, she did. Yet, Kentucky was perturbed.

"Lisa, these folks done ruined my high. I had a good massage today, was feeling all good, and they just ruined it. Now I have to go get another one."

This was funny. Because she said it several times. She goes to my girl Dawn for the phat massages. According to my best friend LadyTee, Dawn is Black Jesus. Kentucky thinks so, too. So I could tell Kentucky was pissed, yet calm.

We talked about it all. My Mother is crazy violent, so she'd grabbed the guns. Not sure how Kentucky calmed her down....

"I just saw her grabbing bullets, Lisa," she said. "And I was like whoooooaaa... gome on Grandma, let's go sit outside on the front porch."

Grandma followed Kentucky. And Grandma was taken home by my Aunt. Grandma was happy about it.

I'd gone over to Grandma's house after everything had calmed down... a few days after the fact. I bought over a bag of vegetables and spring mix for her salads, and a plate of hot vegetables from the vegetarian bar at the Whole Foods. I figured my aunt could use some extra vegetables for meals. I also brought a gallon of spring water. Everybody can use a some water, you know.

I was only going to stay for just a little while, since I didn't get over there until around 8:30 pm (I'd gotten off from work at 7).

When I got there, Grandma was sitting in her special chair, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed.

"Look at you, big girl," I said, "sitting all up in that chair."

She laughed.

"Look at you! You don't need to be sitting up in that chair. You need to put on your clothes and let's get on in these streets! Go to the Krogers for grocery, go to the movies and go to the Christian book store for some books."

She got all excited then. A bit too excited, looking around like she was looking for her clothes and her pocketbook so we could get up and go!

LOL!

I sat down. And as usual, I try to bring some crochet. I was working on Mrs. A's green and white baby blanket, and I was going to stay long enough just to do a couple of my white stripes. That meant I was staying for no more than an hour.

I sat down...

And grandma started talking. Just yacking away.

What was interesting is that I did what I always did when I went over there and she talked: I crocheted.

But this time was different. She kept saying....

"Lisa, look at me... listen to me. Look at me, now. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

O_o. What the world?

I didn't understand why she was acting like that. But it slowed down my crocheting.

Then my aunt came in from the kitchen. She gave my grandma a small bowl of yogurt and blueberries. I was packing up to go. I'd finished my two white rows, and I didn't have anymore green yarn... so uh... it was REALLY time to go.

I tried to tell them that I needed to go on home because I had to work the next day.

Do you know they didn't pay me no mind? I was hemmed up for at least another hour, until around a little before 11 pm... Sigh.

And it was interesting though... because Grandma gets over into talking about the past. And I have NEVER heard her be brutally honest about the past.

She is doing a ton of pontificating. I had to hear it ALL, you hear me?

"Have you talked to your Mama, Lisa?" Grandma asked. "Is she alright? I just want to know if she is alright."

"No I haven't. Now, you know I don't fool with her."

Especially since she was acting up and threatening folks with her guns. I don't want no parts of that.

"I was just asking. Been trying to call her, and she won't answer."

That's because she mad with ya'll, I thought.

I am not sure why they were asking me this. I deal with my mother on very rare occasions. I guess Grandma had heard us laughing and talking at the hospital.

Don't let the smooth taste fool you, Grandma. I don't get down with my Mama. We just happened to cross paths at the hospital. And I know how to make small talk.

One vein of conversation had my nose flaring:

Why my mother is the way she is.

My nostrils were flaring with that whole monologue. And my Aunt was sitting there with a pained looked on her face. And anytime I looked away, Grandma was saying,

"Lisa, listen... look at me, listen..."

Ugh. I didn't want to listen. I wanted to go home and get ready for tomorrow. I wanted to fix my lunch and do some light cleaning. I really needed to feed Oscar-Tyrone. I wanted to get ready for bed, and I wanted to watch the news to see what the weather would be the next day.

I wanted to go home and back to my life. I wanted no parts of this conversation.

And I was sitting there hemmed up on the sofa, looking for a way to jump out a window or dig through the floor or something. I REALLY wanted to go home.

"Look," I told my aunt and my grandmother. "This woman [my mother] has made me feel bad about myself for all my life. I've worked hard to love myself. And when they (she and her idiot 3rd husband) accused me of stealing that time, and she tried to fight me over it, I was completely done with her. That was 8 years ago. I'm still done."

They just looked at me. I am very reserved around family, lesser so when my mother isn't around, but reserved nevertheless. I keep it light and fluffy and fun. No serious talk from me.

"Lisa," my aunt said "You know that was because Ray [my Mother's ex-husband} had a plan to get rid of all of ya'll one by one. He told your mama that he didn't want her kids around."

I nodded. I knew this because Kentucky had told me years ago. He systematically got rid of us all. I got accused of stealing. Milk and Cookies caught the brunt of it. Ray would order porn, and blame it on my brother. Ray would drank up all the liquor and tell my Mama "That's your son drinking up all the liquor."

This use to piss me off. My little brother, who was 16 or 17 at the time, was a really good kid. And being the good kid that he was, he would laugh it off. "I told her, Lisa, 'Now Mama, have you ever known me to drink or order porn, or even lie about stuff like that'?"

My brother had a truck and Ray was after it. But he was leery of my brother. My brother slept with his truck keys, his gun, and those medieval swords he collected. Even a complete idiot like Ray knew to leave him alone... and stick to his lies.

Kentucky didn't like him. He looked at her strangely and made a couple of strange remarks. Whatever he was doing made her uncomfortable. I was gonna bust him in the head with a brick if he made a pass at my sister. Beat a negro"s tail, ask questions later. Really.

Me and my sister stayed away for the most part. One of my most interesting memeories was me and Kentucky standing in the driveway, and her teaching me how to wear my purse so that I wouldn't have to take it off. Ray was and alcoholic and on drugs or crack or something. You don't lay your purse or keys down around people like that. No indeed.

"Ray was the worst person I have every met in my life," I said, while sitting there hemmed up on Grandma's couch. "The absolutely worst. That man was horrible!"

Grandma nodded. I knew she didn't like him either. She said such in her own gentle manner some 9 years ago.

And you know... Ray had the nerve to die a few months ago. I wanted to go to his funeral, and make a comment when the preacher asked for comments about the deceased.

*LadyLee steps to the mike*

"Ray was the worst nigga I ever met in my life. This muthaf**** laying in this casket right here? This nigga  here was crazy!"

*LadyLee throws mike to the ground and walks back to pews*

My sister knows me well. She told me the dude died after the fact, and after the memorial. Because you know I woulda showed up and said all that.... and repented later.

This guy was a sociopath. And I don't go nowhere near sociopaths. When they step in the room, even the cockroaches and the goldfish have a bad day. Ray knew how to leave emotional carnage. Even his own kids were a hot mess.

Grandma continued to talk. I listened attentatively... all the while watching the seconds hand on the clock atop the television go round and round and round.

"Let me tell you something, Grandma," I said. "You are sick and trying to get better. You are 83 years old.  You are too old to be worrying about all this. You need to focus on your health. Don't beat yourself up over my Mama tripping out. That's just her way. I'm like the Queen of England, honey. Certain stuff is unacceptable in my presence and I don't deal with it. And you don't need to be worried about it either."

She nodded.

Kentucky told me that Grandma and our mother had been beefing. Grandma had told my mother earlier in the year not to come around with the drama. My mother was angry about that.

I was shocked! My sweet mild mannered Grandma getting bucked?

Mother hadn't been nice to her. She said Grandma talked too much, and she didn't move fast enough. Grandma talked about that. I could hear the quiver in her voice, when she talked about it. I could tell it hurt for her own child to treat her this way.

"Auntie," I said, while still looking for a way to make my exit from this hard conversation and go home. "Now, i was taking grandma to the doctor. I didn't treat her bad or anything. I got her there, and got her back into the house. I made sure we went and got her medicine. I even had to come up off some cash for some procedures. And it wasn't no little bit of money either. And I didn't mind at all. You know I sow some seed. Was happy to be in the right place at the right time to be of use."

"She right, Joy," my grandma said. "She did."

There was other beef, too. Our mother had a new man that she wanted Grandma (and everyone else) to meet. Grandma dodged the man. And let's just say... uh, Ray messed it up for everybody. He sure did. So everybody had been dodging our mother. And my sister had met this new dude, and didn't get a good vibe. So you know meeting me was out of the question.

"My goal," I told my aunt and Grandma, "is to take care of my sister and her emotions. That's the only reason anyone sees me. My assignment is to walk behind my sister and pick her emotions up off the floor, while she is on this weird quest of hope to help my mother."

And I always tried to look out for Milk and Cookies. But he is a grown man now, with his own family, living out in Seattle.

"Shawty is in Seattle," I told my sister. "He might as well be on the moon!"

And this situation has Milk and Cookies all O_o.  And he's been runing around fighting wars in the middle east. That dude has NO filter. So he says whatever. He don't care if Ma gets mad.

He told my sister "I don't have time for all this!"

You sure don't, dude. None of us do.

Grandma nodded. I think they got my point. Family rarely sees me. I don't have time for ratchetness. I am quick to be up in somebody else's family function. I am trying to enjoy life. Not deal with this foolishness.

And with that, I was up. I grabbed my bag of yarn. It was closing in on 11 o'clock.

"Look. I have to go! Gotta go to work in the morning. And after work, gotta go to writing class."

They let me go on when they saw I had gotten up. I was done with the emotional roundtable.

I went and shook my grandmother's hand. She has been tickled by this gesture as of late, as we never really touch or hug or nothing. She reached her arms up for me to hug her. I hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

The only other time I remember us sharing this handshake, hug and kiss on the cheek was at the hospital a few days before. Right after I took her hands in mind around midnight at the hospital and prayed with her.

I'm no longer the quiet little girl sitting in the corner. So reserved, and so scared and so emotionally beat down by my mother.

It has taken so many years to unearth the bad seeds my mother has planted in my heart. I refuse to agree with what she thinks of me. I am not a bad person. I am not ugly. I am not stupid. I am not crazy. I am none of those things.

I am me.

I am a blessing to all those who know me. I am a powerful asset. I am good. I am kind. I am honest. I am funny. I impart wisdom. I am a solution to a problem on a DAILY basis. I have a place and purpose in this world.

I am a powerful resource and a very good person to know. Very good.

I am special.

It took many years of looking in the mirror and saying those things to my reflection, and writing those words on my heart, for it to sink in. For the truth of who I truly am to sink in.

And I hold on to those good thoughts about myself like they are gold... like the valuable treasure they are.

"You just be you, Grandma. And you get better. We gonna all be alright," I said. "You did what you could to raise folks right. It's all good. You just get better."

I told them to call me if they needed anything. I am only 10 minutes away, and it is nothing for me to do grocery and medicine runs and other errands. It is too hot for them to be running around in the streets. I can do all that. Just call.

No one has called. The offer still stands. And whenever I go by, I will bring fresh water and a bag of fresh organic vegetables. Yes I will.

I told my sister about all this. "They had me there for a couple hours."

"Well, I was there for 6 hours," she said. "And they did some serious talking."

My goodness. Now THAT had to be one heck of a conversation. And Kentucky told me a little of what they talked about. Woooo-weeee! That conversation would've had me repeatedly beating my forehead on the coffee table. Kentucky is much stronger than I am. Everyday, all day.

Grandma has gotten much off her chest. I guess you get like that when you think you may be staring death straight in the eye.  She is better now. Hopefully getting it all out has done her some good.

I don't know if it did me any good. I don't think much of myself in these cases. Like I said, I think of my sister, and her fragile heart. I think of her hope. And I support her, even though I don't particularly agree with her steadfastness in the midst of ill treatment.

I think of Grandma too. I hope she gets the peace of mind she is looking for. And I hope she forgives herself for the past.  She has done the best she can do. 

And that is all we can ask and hope for.

Semi-Wordless Wednesdays: The Milk and Cookies Crew

I was over on facebook (which is rare) and saw that my baby brother's wife, Mrs. Milk and Cookies, had tagged me in pictures of the family...

A reminder of why he is called Milk and Cookies. He was named that by a blogger. He had to be around 17 at the time. She said that he was too young to date and that he was a "Milk and Cookies".

A "Milk and Cookies" is a term for a man that you are dating that you can't have a glass of wine with, because he is too young. Instead of wine, you had to serve him milk and cookies.

LOL. Funny then. Still funny. So even though he's 25 now, he will forever be "Milk and Cookies".

So here is some pictures for you...

Mr. and Mrs. Milk and Cookies

One day, Milk and Cookies bought the kids some type of toy tool set.


They were very interested in that tool set! Even Milk and Cookies Senior is serious.

Milk and Cookies, Jr. looks good in the toy hard hat and tool belt.

He's a big boy! He will be turning 4 next month.

Milk and Cookies 3.0 and Milk and Cookies Jr.

Milk and Cookies 3.0 is only 17 months old, but he looks very serious in the picture below.


And they both look happy in the toy jeep on the kitchen linoleum!

Those are great pictures. I'm glad I got over to facebook and picked them up. The boys are really growing up!

Picking Berries and Having Conversations

(Conversations week sweepstakes (now until June 30th) continues... see Conversations Week post for details)

My sister Kentucky lives way out in the southern suburbs.

Interestingly, my doctors are out on that side of town. I feel like I need to pack a picnic lunch when I travel out that way. It takes no more than an 35 minutes to about 50 minutes to get to my desired destinations, but come on... you dealing with me, a chicken who lives 4.6 miles from work. Anytime longer than 20 minutes in a car feels like an eternity to me.

She does a little exploring out that way, but she doesn't like a lot of what she sees. But there are places she wants to go. A good month ago, we explored the Old Mill restaurant, and I think she and her friends live in that place now, lol.

Last Friday, I picked her up so she could go to the appointment with me. Then we went for lunch, and I drove her home. She was pointing out some of her favorite spots to me.

She pointed to a sign.  "I've never been there before, but I want to go."

It was a pick-your-own fruit and vegetable farm. These types of farms are scattered in the far suburbs, where there is plenty of land. You definitely don't see these places where I live, in downtown Atlanta. Normally farmers bring their offerings to the various city farmers markets. That's as good and fresh as it gets.

"You wanna go tomorrow?" I asked, as tomorrow was a Saturday, and we had discussed earlier that we each didn't have plans.

"Yes we can go," she said. And we can go to the Peac.htree City Farmer's Market, too."

Hot diggity dog!! I was going to get to hang out with my sister 2 days in a row! I was so geeked and excited that I could barely sleep!

The farmer's market was fun...

I didn't know it was that many white folks in Atlanta. It had to be a good couple hundred folks there. Felt like thousands in all that doggone heat. Sigh.

I bought some nice squash, potatoes and green onions.

I sauteed up my squash...

They sure were good. I taught Kentucky how to sautee her veggies, but she can't get it right. I don't see what's so hard about sauteeing veggies. I taught her how to fry chicken, and she gets it right everytime. I guess she will just have to keep working on the veggies.

After the farmer's market, we headed a couple of miles down the road to that farm.  They were allowing people to pick strawberries, blueberries and blackberries that day. They had a really nice store, with all kinds of homemade relishes and jams, and lots of fresh fruits and vegetables (you know I like that...).

So we went out into the fields and looked around.

And the fields are huge.

We were assigned a row and were told we can pick as much as wanted.

"Ya'll got snakes out here?" I asked.

"No ma'am," the man said. "No snakes."

I eyed him suspiciously. And if I saw a snake, it would be on him. He will see LadyLee tare up the fields and the store trying to get away from it. LOL

Anyway, there were TONS of strawberries.

They weren't huge, but they were a good size. Firm and fresh. And right off the vine instead of being trucked in from 3000 miles away. You can't beat that.

We also picked blackberries.

You really had to look for the ripe ones, as most weren't ready to pick.

Man.... It was so hot out there... If someone would've hollered "Ceeeeeeeeliiiiiieeee!", I do beleive I woulda hollered "Yes, Mister!"

Yes. It was HAWT. Kentucky didn't follow me to the blackberry patch. She went back in the building. (I think she was hot).

I was middling around in the blackberry patch and I heard something moving. It sounded like some paper crinkling. First thing I thought was "Snake!!"

And I skipped merrily away! (Didn't tare down the patch).

Kentucky came out to the blackberry patch later. She found a bag of blackberry cobbler mix, and decided to make some blackberry cobbler. I walked with her and pointed out some of the blackberries. We went in the shed and paid for our berries.

My berries and 2 peaches came out to $3.57 cents.

Not bad!

I was so glad to spend 2 DAYS in a row with one of the greatest people I know- my little sister.

There was much fun in the sun...

Much laughter... and much talking.

While driving to and fro to our destinations, and finally to her place, we talked about what was heavy on her mind: our mother was not picking up the phone when she called. Our mother was mad at Kentucky.

"I just don't know what to do," she said. "I keep calling. I keep asking if she wants to get out and go do something. And she says no, she doesn't want to be bothered."

"Just keep calling," I said. "Or get Milk and Cookies [our baby brother] to call."

(That's not what I wanted to tell her to do. But I'm trying to be positive here, for her sake).

Milk and Cookies called our mother. "Kentucky, she said she don't want to talk to you anymore," he said.

Man. What a horrible thing to say. I would call our mother myself, but I'm not going through all that. That is between her and Kentucky. I know I don't need to call because that will just throw Kentucky in further trouble. And I really don't want that.

So here I am, having to talk and talk and talk about this. It drains me a bit, because I think I take the easy way out:

I'm not going to fight with anyone. I'm not gonna make you love and respect me.

Kentucky works hard on that. She is the good sheep. I am the bad sheep. And I don't mind.

And it just pisses me off that she gets treated like this. And what's scary is that she is getting older.

"Lisa, I am learning that I have choices. And I don't have to deal with this. I really need to work on myself and my own personal development."

I want to call my mother and say, "Uh, Ma'am... alright now. She is getting older and she figuring out that she don't have to take your sh**.

And she is getting like that with her father, too. That's not good.

Or maybe it is.

I don't know. I try to stay neutral. And I spend the many hours just listening... and picking her emotions and heart up off the floor.

For mother's day, my sister came over, and she bought me a gift - a potpourri rain-scented packet from a Pi.er One. And she just kept saying over and over again... "Thank you for letting me talk. Thank you for listening."

And I could hear the tears in her voice.

And I realized then, that I've been fulfilling a mother role of sorts for her. Just like so many have done for me.

Sigh.

I think as children, we want to please our parents. Our mother is hard to please, for whatever reason. I gave up on that years ago. I couldn't take the stress. But Kentucky is a kinder, gentler type. She takes the emotional beatings, and gets right back up. And I do whatever I can to support her stretch to have a relationship with our mother.

But this recent falling out between our mother and Kentucky has been pretty hard. Hours and hours of pontification abound. Kentucky talks, and I just listen, listen, listen. I am mentally tired of it all, to tell you the truth. Mostly because I don't have solutions for her. I want her to have the happy ending she desires. I just don't know how to help her with that.

You know me...my answers are hard and cold. Folks can kick rocks. Folks can kiss my ashy kneecaps. I have no tolerance for tomfoolery and emotional manipulation. NONE.

That's not a good path or a proper answer for her. I am like a puff of smoke: I will disappear into thin air. I have UFO tendencies. If family sees me, they sit and stare. It's rare to see me.

Kentucky is different. She is a helper and problem solver. I am to an extent. But my patience is running on fumes.

Yes, the disagreement going on between my mother and Kentucky.... It's been so hard.

...because it involves our sick grandmother. 

Good Monday Evening

I am late getting this post up... sigh.

Should've worked on it yesterday.

I meant to work on it super early this morning, but that didn't happen. I had the notion to crochet and listen to some good gospel music this morning.  And that's a good thing.

Anyway, this is a food-for-thought week, with "conversations" as the theme...  Well it is supposed to be. I had such a great weekend that I need to get all that out the way...  So I may stretch the conversations posts until June 30th, the end of the month.  Go back and look at the last post ("Conversations Week"). These set of posts are part of a sweepstakes, so you must comment to enter for a chance to win.

I was in such a strange mood on Friday, and that Friday Freestyles post was a bit dark. So I apologize for that. It's just that way too much had happened in the couple days prior, and I had to be at work earlier than normal, and I was all stuck in traffic (I don't see how ya'll deal with this traffic foolishness)... And you know me, I love my Friday posts. But I like to keep it smurfy, you know?

Anyway, I had a really good weekend... I hung out with my sister.  She went with me to my doctor's appoinment on Friday, and we sat in the exam room for a good hour, waiting on the surgeon to come talk to us. We were talking and laughing so hard about stuff, that I just knew that someone was gonna walk in and say "Can you all keep the noise level down??"

But no one bothered us. The doctor came in and looked at my wounds. Lo and behold, I am allergic to the adhesive on bandages!

O_O

So that's why I was whelping up and peeling and all kind of foolishness... Well now I know. Goodness. So now I have what looks like a 3rd degree burn, and I have to take care of that. And that's cool. He gave me the news I wanted to go hear, and I was good. When he left, me and my sister high-fived each other and got the heck up outta there...

When we were out in the parking lot I hollered, "Back up!"

I needed to do my church spin!!!!

*lee does the church spin and the church shouts in the parking lot*

I know they had to be looking out the doctor's office window thinking... "What the world is that crazy woman out there doing!?"

I'm doing my church spin, honey. I was about to stick a money offering in the pretty plant in the waiting room, but I decided against it. (Ya'll know how I am about sowing some seed... especially one of thanksgiving).

Kentucky had been talking before the appointment about going to this salad place I like over by her way...

They do have the big giant salads. Here are a couple we had last time.

Oh yeah... those were the bomb. I need to bring my own dressing next time. They don't have the best salad choices. My sister likes that ranch. I settled on parmesan peppercorn.

Anyway, earlier I was like, uh... I don't know. I don't have an appetite.

I think I was just nervous about my appointment. Not really nervous, but my patience level with the unknown needs a little work. I had agreed to go somewhere, but we just needed to get this out of the way first.  I'd worked hard a couple of hours that morning and I was just tired.

So when the appointment was over, my sister asked again... "You wanna go to the salad place?"

"No!" I said as I put my seatbelt on.  "I want some food!"

I wanted a plate of chitlins! And some hot sauce and some white bread! And some Kool-aid!

 The red flavored kool-aid.

That's what I wanted!

LOL... no it's not. If I tried to eat a plate of chitlins right now, I would just now some three days later be getting up off the floor.  

No, but I wanted some food. And we headed over to this new spot we like near my sister's place.They have a big mill outside, and we get to feed the swans and turtles...

 Well, I don't feed any of the critters. I just pretend to throw something to them.

Uh, yeah... they don't like that at all. The swans and turtles.... they talk about LadyLee. Something awful.

They have a philly cheese steak sandwich she likes a lot. And I can tell why, too. It's not that ol' cheap steakumms meat. They slice real angus beef down and sautee it. I KNOW that makes a big differnce.

I wanted the fish and chips she had last time. I was skeptical last time and she let me pinch off a little piece and taste it. It was awesome. I said the next time I went, I would try that.

"I want some of that fish you had last time, gal!" I said. "That there was GREAT!"

And that's what I had. Fish and chips, and a salad. It was good.

I really like that place. They seem to remember us. (Our old waitress hollered "hey girls!!!"). We whispered to each other "They must not get that many black folks in here."

LOL

I love to get a table near the waterfalls.

Beautiful!!!

Kentucky was particulary perturbed by something we saw as we drove up.

"What is that?" my sister said. "Looks like some sheets or something."

"No, no," I said, after looking for a moment. "That's the tablecloths. They're drying the tablecloths in the sunshine."

Kentucky blinked. "Humph."

My sister was skeptical.

"They are being environmentally friendly. You know how white folk like that type of thing. Save the environment. Hang the tablecloths out to dry instead of running the dryer."

Kentucky shook her head. "Ain't nobody being environmentally friendly. There dryer broke. That's all that is."

I laughed so hard. She didn't. She was serious.

"They can save money that way, by drying them outside," I said

"Unh-unh. The dryer is broken, Lisa."

LOL!!

I smiled at the sight of the tablecloths blowing in the wind. I had to remember that my sister is not old enough to remember hanging clothes out on the clothesline to dry. Our great-grandmother had a washing machine, but she didn't have a clothes dryer. So I remember, back in the early 70s, following her out to the back yard with the day's wash. I was in charge of handing her the clothespins or collecting them, depending on whether she was hanging clothes or taking them down.

Those were days of innocence. And I laughed at my old great-grandmother scrambling up and out the back door at the sound of thunder.

"Come on, Lisa, we gotta get out here and get them clothes 'fo the rain come!"

No, my sister doesn't have those memories... She was born in 1981. Great-grandmama died in 1982, when I was 12. Great-grandmama did get a chance to hold the my little sister in her arms when she was a baby, though. Kentucky will not remember that either.

And Kentucky was still pontificating about the broken dryer during our late lunch.

And I was laughing even harder at her jokes about it.

My sister is the FUNNIEST person I know. She is 10 times quieter than me and 10 times funnier than me.

When I think of the most wonderful people I know, and those who have such a good pivotal influence on me over the last few years, I think first of my sister. She is wise beyond her years. Now SHE has become someone I can talk to, and she can advise me, and there's no judgment. I know that she loves me, even though I am probably one of the most imperfect people she knows. You know that's not common. And me, I am very much to myself when it comes to my hurts, pains, and problems. We can talk openly about our problems and walk away feeling better about them.

So for the life of me, I can't understand why our mother and her father(my stepfather) treat her like crap...

... and why I have to always pick her heart and emotions up off the ground... 

To be continued...

CONVERSATIONS WEEK

Alright now...

Especially you inhabitants of lurk city... the ones who like to hang out on the front porch of the House of LadyLee and not say a word.

This week is a food-for-thought week, for the most part.

I wanted to have a week of only food-for-thought, but that's not going to happen. I have TOO many posts, some of which aren't related to powerful or disturbing conversations I've had lately. I don't want to wait to post that stuff, so I will spread it out until the end of the month - June 30th.

I've even had 2 powerful conversations this morning, both of which have me O_O. So I know I will have a LOT of stuff to post.

Now, here's the good news for you, dear reader...

We're kicking out a "Lurk City Sweepstakes" here at the House of LadyLee:

I'm giving away 2 giftcards:

One for $75.

Another for $25.

Why? Because ya'll some lurkers. And that's alright. I'm not a comment whore or anything.

I just figure that if you take TIME out of your day to read, well, you might as well get rewarded for it.

Yes you take TIME to read. And you can't get your TIME back.

TIME is everything.

So I like to do giveaways sometimes.

Details: the person with the highest number of comments gets the $25 gift card. The $75 gift card will be from a drawing.

I don't do my own drawings. I have hired someone to do my drawings. And he's been doing them for the past couple of years.

My coworker, the good Lieutennant Commander By. He is legit and he is better than the firms that the Oscars and all those other award shows use.




Yes, he is a military man, under the command of the Sur.geon General, highly trained in the art of logistics, public health, undercover forensics, and hand-to-hand combat. If an alien drops down from outerspace and walk up in this building, I'm gonna stand behind him. He will take the sucker out.  Then he will proceed to steal and process that sucker's spaceship.

*alien stomps down the hall screaming GRRRRHHHHHHHH RAAHHHH and spitting hard*

"LadyLee, hand me my grenades and my flame thrower!!!"

*ladylee handing the Lt. Comm By his weapons of choice*

Yes indeed. He is better than Rambo could ever hope to be.

And of course, he takes this part time job of pulling names from a cup very seriously. His wife makes sure his nails are cleaned and his hands are well lotioned.

Because she know us sistas can't stand no ashy rusty-tailed negro.

No indeed.

So he will pull names and do the bootleg certification (write the prize on the back of the pulled nams).

If you win, your gift card can be from anywhere you choose. Most choose Wal-mart or Target. If you're a freak, you can choose that Fredrick's of Hollywood. Whatever you like. I don't judge you for being the freak of the week. No ma'am.

Now if you're a druggie or a J (junkie), I won't be sending you cash. And I don't think the dealers in my hood give out gift cards. You have to work that out on your own. Perhaps you can win the Wal-mart card and then buy something and sell it.

Several people have won big ticket gift cards here at the House of LadyLee... Sasha, Southern Black Gal, Chele... and a few more of ya'll. So I'm legit.

You can comment here (which is preferred), hit up my email (gmail, gub'ment, whatever), or send me a text message (as some of you who have my cell number prefer to do). Makes no difference. Just comment in some way or fashion to win.

Alright. Those are the rules.

Old readers understand the rules all too well...

New readers better figure it out and work it out if they can!

Any which way, get in where you fit in, honey child!

Stay tuned for Conversations week.