Operation Stealth Baby Shower

Last January, my boss, The Darth Sista T, called a meeting. We discussed regular group business and all, then she said something that shocked us all...

"I will be on medical leave for 3 months later this year. I am pregnant."

We were all shocked, then we were all happy!!

Fast forward several months...

The Darth Sista is now big and swole with child. She's breathing hard. She is waddling when she walks down the hall. And you better get out of her way when she needs to make it to the bathroom! (LOL! I won't get into how I relentlessly pick on her! LOL!)

She is due in mid-June, and she is trying to work up to the very hour before she delivers. I have been quite frightened. I told her don't go into labor in her office. (This will be alright, though. Hen-Dog is more than ready to deliver that baby. I, on the other hand, will straight up faint if we have to deliver a baby at work. THE HORROR!)

"Lady X", the youngest member of our group, called me over to her desk one day. She motions for me to lean down, and she whispers in my ear.

"Me and Hen-Dog were talking. We wanna give the Darth Sista a baby shower, but just our group only."
"Well, you know me, I'm making a blanket." I'd been bringing in the blanket on a stealth basis and consulting with Cowgirl Cre on some isshas I was having with it. "We can all put our name on that and give it to her."
"Well, we don't know the ethics rules, LadyLee."

She gave me that "look". You know, that look that said she wanted me to do something. I knew exactly what she wanted me to do.

"Well." I sighed hard. "I'll go talk to the Director, and see what she says. "

*Lady X gives smiles like Celie smiled.*

I think everyone on the floor knows by now that I ain't afraid of "The Director". Yes, she terrorizes people, and takes a bit too much pleasure in ruling with an iron fist. I think that is just a function of Management in general: make employees' lives a living hell. But she's a sista, and she's my age (heck, she might even be a few months younger than me). So, uh, I ain't scared of her.

Whatever.

So I went and talked to our beloved Director.

I explained that my group wanted to have a private party, and we just wanted to get her take on the ethics rules. I wasn't really even trying to be courteous. I just didn't want to hear no ish later.
And you know me... I took the opportunity to throw in there somewhere that I wasn't scared of her.

LOL!

"You all can do that, LadyLee! That's not a problem!"

That was cool. I got up to leave.

"I want to come to that baby shower, LadyLee!"

*Blank stare* *crickets*

I wanted to say "Never mind!", but uh, that would've caused an argument.

I shrugged.

"So I can't come to the baby shower?"

She looked a little hurt. (Clutch the pearls... Management has feelings? WOW!) I leaned back in the chair. "Well, you're the Captain of the ship. I can't tell the Captain where to go on her ship. I can't tell the Captain not to come down to the cheap deck and dance with the peasants."

A semi-politically correct answer. Hmmm.

She laughed hard, then checked her massive schedule. "Well, I have a meeting that morning. I'm just gonna bring a gift."

I shrugged again.

You gotta understand. Management is the enemy. Management is "The Dark Side". They love throwing people under the bus. It's like some type of weird game with them. That was one reason we were being all secretive about it. If not, there would've been much discussion in the lab about us giving the boss a party. Tooo many opinions floating around. Who wants to deal with that? And who wants to watch what they say when management is around? BUMMER.

Overall, we like our boss. She will throw your behind under the bus, as that is some special requirement they must have, but she seems to care about the job, the mission statement, etc. (Whereas, I don't. I just care about them getting my check right. LOL! ) .

So, the week before our party, our diligent "Lady X" typed up what each of us was to bring. There are only 7 of us in the group, so the list wasn't hard to make up. I was to bring salmon croquettes, fried chicken and biscuits. (I wanted to yell "Why can't I bring the cups and the forks and the ice?" LOL!!)

So, I got up Thursday morning at 4 a.m., and cooked a whole mess of fried chicken wings, salmon and biscuits.

Took me 3 dayum hours. (I was being lazy... only used one skillet!). That was okay, because I lazied around, and I even got a little writing done. I threw everything in my special big roaster I use for barbeque, and drove to work. I left home at 8 o' clock.

It usually takes about 5-6 minutes to get to work, but it took me about 30 minutes that morning. (ATL traffic SUCKS!).

There were several stealth cellphone calls between myself and Lady X.

Me: "She there yet?"
Lady X: "No, but we have a look-out posted."
Me: "Well, bring me a cart. Just sit it over by the elevators."

Well, that got all messed up. Lady X put the cart on the other side of the building somewhere.

So, Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia, my trusty bootleg "work-for-free" writing editor, and new member of our group, brought a cart to my car. We got everything out of my car, and headed up the elevator to the breakroom...

I'm peaking around corners, moving fast... I'm scared we're going to run into the Darth Sista...

Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia is at ease (as usual). She was acting like she was taking a stroll in the park, pushing the cart all slow (this is the way she usually acts, lol).

I didn't say anything to her. She's sporting the HUGE Pam Grier afro right now. I was afraid that she may remove a razor blade from that fro and try to cut me if I pissed her off.

Well, we got everything set up. And we all huddled in the break room and waited around for the Darth Sista to arrive.

I had my laptop and 3000 song library for the party. There was much discussion over what type of music the Darth Sista liked.

"She likes jazz, and real slow music," Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia said nonchalantly.

We all looked at her. "No she don't. That's the type of music YOU like!"

Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia laughed hard. She almost got away with that one.

There was NO way we were going to play anything Cynthia liked. She likes the type of music that plays when you just broke up with someone, and you are sitting in the back of a dark club, drunk as hell, crying and about ready to either shoot someone or slit your own throat.

NO WAY.

I cued up some Anita Baker. Can't go wrong with that, can you?

Now, we kind of told the Darth Sista we wanted to have a 9 o'clock meeting, so we could iron out some group business before she went into labor and left us looking crazy (lol).

She didn't expect a thing. She also noticed that the breastfed baby of our group wasn't on our meeting reminder emails. I know this made her apprehensive, because she thought we wanted to complain about his breastfeeding a$$. (Later, the director asked me why "Tom" wasn't at the party. I told her it was because breast milk wasn't available. LOL!)

But she came in the meeting, with her notes and trusty planner, ready to fight with us...

We yelled "Congratulations!!"

She was shocked...

And she even started crying.

(Wow... management cries? WOW!!)

Once she calmed down, we all sat down and ate. We had fried chicken, salmon, biscuits, croissants, orange juice, chips. (Shoot, all we needed was some grits, and that would've set it off. LOL).

We also had a lovely cake.

And we made quick work of that cake.

There were many nice gifts... diapers, baby girl outfits, toys, giftcards...

And of course, I made a baby blanket.

I like making baby blankets. Why? Because it's a cheap gift. Only requires about 8 dollars worth of yarn. Yeah, it takes me about 30-40 hours to finish, but it's CHEAP! And you know me, I LOVE anything hand made. (I hate buying ish in the store. Let's take it back to Celie days! LOL)

I've never made a baby blanket like this one before. I wanted to do something with a bunch of squares. My crochet mentor Cowgirl Cre frowned up at this project when I first discussed it with her ("You do like those squares, don't you girl?") .It took A LOT more time and concentration than usual, as I had to whipstitch all of those squares together (Uggh). But uh, I won't be doing that again. I will stick to my regular type of blanket, the one shown below. I made this one back in April for one of my Book Club sista's granddaughter.


Takes less time and concentration. (I must be getting LAZY. HUMPH).

All in all, it was a good time. We played MUCH Anita Baker and Earth Wind and Fire. Whatever leftovers we had, we gave to the rest of the people on our floor.

And none of us were any good for the rest of the day. We all had the "itis". I really needed a cot and a blanket. Really.

But, our boss will be gone all summer. (Thank Goodness!!! I've already made my summer plans, lol!). This means I will have a great summer, i.e., I will be working 10 hours a week!

LOL!!

But it felt good to do something for our boss. She deserved it. Compared to the rest of management, she is STELLAR.

So Darth Sista... we just wanted to you to know that we love and appreciate you. You're a decent boss (don't worry, we won't tell the rest of your management peers).

We hope you have a safe delivery, and a great summer!!

Mark Your TERRITORY, Part III (Final)

(For Terry... you, sitting over in your Cheap Seats, will get a GOOD laugh out of this.)

Click here for Mark Your TERRITORY, part I.
Click here for Mark Your TERRITORY, part II.

You know…

Certain questions come up in your life. . .certain questions people ask. . .

I don’t know, they’re not meant to be answered.

And that was a perfect example.

“What’s wrong with you black people? I don’t understand that sh**. What the f** is wrong with you all?”

I was stunned.

Speechless.

Yet screaming, quaking even, inside!

She was waiting for an answer.

I looked up at the TV.

Shrugged.

Then went back to scribbling on my papers.

And hoping for a moment when I could uh, snap my fingers and disappear into thin air excuse myself to my blue room.

“You know,” she continued when I didn’t respond with a verbal answer. “I just don’t like black people.”

Shoot.

“Oh, but you’re okay, hon.” She leaned over and patted me on the forearm, smiled her biggest "no teeth in" smile. “You’re a nice girl, you are. But, I just don’t like your race.”

I. remained. quiet.

Somehow, a good half hour later, I was able to sneak off to my room.

That was the first time she'd mentioned her dislike for black people, but DEFINITELY not the last. (Thank God she didn’t say “coloreds”. I believe I would’ve fainted.)

I’d learn to sit quietly at the table and eat my food while she ranted about something that happened that day on the news.

Didn’t matter. This was a temporary issue. I was content to pay my $105 every Friday. I wanted to write her a check, but she frowned up on that.

“Cash only, hon. I love my country, but Uncle Sam’s a b*tch.”

Ooookay.

*LadyLee stopping at the ATM every Friday to get cash for Ms. Clara.*

She’d get all gussied up from time to time. She’d put on a purple leisure suit, a pair of purple matching ankle boots. The outfit was rounded out by purple bracelets, a purple bead necklace, and a matching purple purse. Oh yeah… and she’d sweep her hair high up on her head, and place a HUGE purple flower in it. And her face was made up in purple: purple blush, purple lipstick, the works.

Shoot, I thought Prince was gonna jump up out of the floor and dance with her or something.

LOL!!!!

When she'd get all gussied up like that... you know I had to egg her on. You know it!

“You know you looking good, Ms. Clara,” I’d say. “You got a hot date or something?"

She’d straighten her back, prance around with her purse on her arm and bat her eyelashes.

“No hon, just dinner and drinks with some friends. There’s a fella there that I’m keeping my eyes on, though.”

“Watch out, now!” I got a kick out of egging her on. “Go on with your bad self.”

“Don’t wait up for me,” she’d say. She’d wink her eye hard.

And I didn’t wait for her. That Old girl didn’t get in til real late.

And even when she got in all late... she was always up with me, sitting there at the table with her morning coffee and cigarette, talking to me while I ate my cereal.

But...

One morning, she was fighting mad.

Now, she was active in the community. Told me tales of going down to city hall and raising hell when one of the neighbors would ride his horse down the street on the weekend.

“That muther*****. I would run outside and shake my fist at him every time he galloped down this street. Turns out that there's a city ordinance that says you can’t keep a horse at your residence but the horse can visit on the weekends. That’s a bunch a bulls***!!! Blaah, blaaaah, BLAH!!!!”

I learned more about community awareness, the power of protests and city legislature while living at the boarding house than at any other time in my life.

But like I said, one morning she was fighting mad.

I was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, drinking my orange juice. She, of course was up, and I heard her coming down the hall, grumbling, a frown plastered on her face.

I didn’t want to ask, but you know me. I was trying to be respectful.

“What’s wrong, Ms. Clara?”

“That muther*****”.

Wow. Wondered who pissed her off so early in the morning? I didn’t say anything. I knew she would continue to talk about what had her so mad. I noticed that she was drinking coffee, and the coffee cup was much larger than usual.

“You know, I go outside and there’s sh** all out in the yard. Dogsh***. There’s a dog from up the street coming down here and sh***** in my yard! That muther*****!!!!!”

I wanted to laugh, but I knew I better not. “Do you know whose dog it was?”

“Yes. And I told them about it. And he’s still coming down here sh****** in my yard. Can’t stand that muther******!!!!!!”

Boy, she was HOT. I looked at my watch, it was time to go.

“I got something for that muther****** though.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You calling the dog pound?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m gonna Mark my Territory.”

I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t care. I continued drinking my orange juice.

“I got a big gallon bucket I’m keeping in my bathroom. I’m gonna drink my coffee, collect my pee, go outside and spread it all over the yard.”

I almost choked on my juice. I grabbed a blue napkin and wiped my mouth. “What??”

“Oh, you may find that funny, but that’s the way they use to do it in Texas, out on the range, you know. If you had a bunch of sons, the father and the sons would go outside and piss on the fence posts. That kept the coyotes away. A coyote smell that, he says to himself ‘That’s a big ol’ son of a gun there’, and he runs for the hills!”

I just stared at her. She guzzled her coffee down. “Well, gotta go pee again.”

Geez.

I hurriedly washed my blue glass and sat it in the dish rack to dry. While she was hanging out in the bathroom, I used it as an opportunity to gather my things so I could get the heck out of dodge.

I hurried outside to my car. I usually walked across the lawn...

Not anymore. I stayed on the sidewalk and driveway.

I was outside, sitting in my Nova, letting it warm up, when out comes Ms. Clara. She had a large white bucket in her hand and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. She smiled and waved at me.

She splashed piss all along the curb.

I shuddered.

It didn't really bother me until I got to work and told folks the story. I got sick to my stomach thinking about that craziness.

All week, I heard tales of that dog coming down to her yard, sniffing around, and running fast back to his own house. (Yeah, she sat in the window, spying).

Hmm.

“Nothing in the world like Marking that territory, LadyLee!” she’d yell. “Bet he won’t come down here no more.”

She was proud of her accomplishment. She smiled hard (without her teeth in.)

Oh. My. God.

And some ten years later, I really don't care to walk across lawns. Don't want to step on
"marked territory".

This woman Ms. Clara really tripped me out. I mean there was something new everyday. She had one colorful life.

The day I left, we sat at the table and ate lunch together. I told her I wanted to take a couple of pictures with her.

“Hold on! I don’t have my teeth in. Let me go get my teeth!!”

I took pictures of her with her dogs.

I gave her a hug. Poor woman, didn't want to let me go. I had to pry myself loose.

When I left, she stood in the middle of the street, crying like crazy.

Weeping, hollering, even.

I knew then, with all her idiosyncracies… she was crazy, but she was alright.

And she’d gotten attached to me.

In the midst of her rantings about black people, she said something that I will never forget.

“LadyLee, I got a daughter about your age. And you know, I don’t care much for black people, but you're the same age as my daughter. I figure if I’m good to you, take good care of you, then well... someone out there in California is looking out for my daughter."

Now, there is some good "food for thought" up in there. I’ll let you figure out what that is. I’m still trying to figure out. But I must say, there is not a week go by where I don't think about that statement.

And wonder why I just ain't there yet.

She was real territorial with me. I was territory, and she'd marked her territory, I suppose, if only for the moment.

I'm wondering if I will ever get to that place, where I can pull a curtain over my emotions and feelings and idiosyncracies, and just “do what I gotta do".

And, I also wonder if she was worried about her daughter. She didn’t talk about her much, only mentioned that she was a nurse out in California. Not even sure if she saw her that much.

All I know, she always got up with me every morning, and drank her morning coffee, and told me a good story (chock full of cuss words). I learned much from her in the midst of all that...

I have no idea what became of Ms. Clara. The last memory I have of her is of seeing her in the rearview mirror, She was standing in the middle of the street, waving and crying.

I really don't know what to make of all of this. It's one of those interesting life experiences. How often do you meet people THAT colorful. Plus, she is the inspiration for the character Elba in one of my short stories (might even be a novella at this point).

You know it's a trip when my teacher constantly uses the character Elba as an example in some technique we're working on.

(Look out for an excerpt soon, and you'll see what I mean, lol)

My short five week stint with Ms. Clara made me feel special in that I now recognize that everyone I've ever met in my life has crossed my path for some reason. Whether that person is good for me or bad for me, I learn something that will make me a better person in the process.

That makes me feel special.

Now, If I haven't learned anything else useful, I've learned one very important thing:

If I ever have a problem with a neighborhood animal doing his bizness in my yard?

I know full well how to "mark my territory".

And now, you do too.

Mark Your TERRITORY!!! (Part I)

Note: Uh... in the interest of not giving you a long ass post, I am breaking this post up into 2 or 3 parts..

I haven't lived with many people during my lifetime.

My sister and I live together right now. I occupy the main level of my house, while she resides over the top floor. So we can go days without seeing each other, lol. She's 26 years old, some 11 years younger than myself. That can be a trip sometimes, because she looks at me sideways when I start lecturing her. But I do better these days! We get along much better these days!

I shacked up with a dude once. Later married him. Later divorced him. Ain't shacking with no jokers no more. Humph.

I've lived with friends at times. Interesting how you learn about folks when you live with them. Hmm...

But, by far, the most interesting and memorable person I've ever lived with was a white woman. I can not for the life of me remember her name.

We will call her "Ms. Clara".

She was so interesting to me that one of the characters in my story Leaving Jersey (the character Elba, for those of you who have read it) was based on her. Whenever I work on this character, who, by the way, everyone in my writing class absolutely LOVES, I think of "Ms. Clara".

No, she wasn't this lovable "Aunt Bea" type. Uh, she was far from that. Ms. Clara is by far the most interesting (in a CRAZY, eclectic, DISTURBING kind of way), I've ever met.

And she was the first person I'd ever met who was rather adamant about one thing:

Marking her territory.

When I finished my Ph.D. in 1998 (damn, has it been THAT long ago?), I obtained a 2 year postdoctoral fellowship in New Orlea.ns with the USD.A in the area of ter.mite chemistry.

I was shacking with my man at the time, and while I was waiting for my start date, I had a little clerical job. (Imagine the looks on people's faces when they found out I was a "Dr.", yet content to happily file forms all day. Shoot, I was just happy to be done with school, and doing something non-nervewracking for a change, lol.)

So, needless to say, when it came time for me to move to New Orl.eans, I didn't have much money. I only had about 800 bucks.

That's not enough for moving expenses, apartment deposits. . . nothing.

One solution: BOARDING HOUSE.

Yeah, the Oldgirl decided to live in a boarding house for about 5 to 6 weeks.

Now, I'd never done anything like that before. But I didn't know anyone in Louisi.ana. I'd made a quick visit down there. A friend of my man's had hooked me up with a chick who drove me around to a few apartment complexes that she liked. And when the job flew me in for an interview, the sister in the research group drove me around also. So I knew where I wanted to live.

But I had no money. So I found a boarding room.

I called a couple of places. The place I settled on was in Kenner, near the LA airport, about 11 miles from my job. I spoke on the phone with a woman name "Ms. Clara".

When I got off the phone with her, I called my BFF LadyTee.

"You find somewhere to live, Lee?"
"Yeah, I think," I said. "This place is 105 bucks a week, out in the suburbs. But I don't know."
"Why you say that?"
"Because, this chick sound like a dang redneck."
"Ah hell n'awl!" LadyTee yelled.
"And, you know, I can put on my professional voice at the drop of a dime. I don't think she could tell I was black."

LadyTee laughed real hard at that one. A bit too hard, really.

Well, it came time for me to go. My man "Oldboy" packed up my ol' 73 Nova, and his Thunderbird, and we were gonna get on the road. LadyTee and I had another convo...

"You taking Oldboy with you?"
"Yeah. We're making the 6 hour drive, getting me settled in, going to get a hotel, and he'll leave in the morning."
"And you say the chick is a redneck?"
"Girl, I don't know that! She just sounding a bit crazy."
"And you taking Oldboy with you? With him looking like Thug Love with all the earrings and the braids on his head?"
"Yeah, girl!"
"Man, that Old lady gonna see him and be like 'Oh hell no, you can't stay here'".
"Shut up, girl!!"
"Haaaa! That ol' broad gonna run get her shotgun and run ya'll n***** up outta there.
"Shut up, Tee! Stop playing!"

Again... LadyTee laughed a bit too hard. I believe that chick was joning me out for a couple days.

I remember looking at Oldboy, wishing he would take off a few earrings, wishing that he would cut his hair or something.

"Baby, you better stop listening to LadyTee, with her ol' crazy self."

I listened to him, but reluctantly...

So we drove down to Louisiana...

To be continued...

Fiya$tone Blues Part I

So like I said, in the previous post... I spent a lot of money up in Charlotte. Nope, I didn't go out on the town and party and drink and all that. Like I said, I was just going up there to support Super shoe queen blogger S23 and Ms.Blackliterature. com's book club meeting. Got up there on 3/4 of a tank of gas and er'thang...

Naaah...

When we first got up there, maybe about 10 miles away from S23's house, I noticed a slight shake in my steering wheel. Then it got worse, where I noticed a shake/knocking... something concerning my right front tire.

No big deal, I thought. Sounds like a busted belt in the tire. Afterall, I did hit two potholes going 80 miles an hour in South Carolina. (Note to self: write a lettter to South Carolina DOT and let them know their highways SUCK, SUCK SUCK!! Fix the dayum streets!!).
I'd just ask S23 if there was a tire place around.

LadyLee: "S, is there a tire place around here somewhere."
S23: "Yes, there's a Fiya$tone up the street."

I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I immediately got sick to my stomach.

Man, Fiya$stone is NOT my friend. I've had major problems with Fiya$tone.

Now, some background. My Mama likes Fiya$tone, and has always gone there. So, I started going there when I got a car, and quickly figured out that I needed to leave them alone because I was being ripped off left and right.

And like clockwork... I have to deal with these fools every 6 years. It is eerie, but it is the truth.

12 years ago, I had a one person sit-in at the Fiya$tone in Union city. It was like they were holding my car hostage or something. I don't remember what was wrong with my car, but I would call and ask if it would be ready. They's say yes, and then I'd catch a bus there and it wasn't ready. After 3 days of this, I jumped up on the counter and sat there, and wasn't gonna move until I got my car. They thought I was joking, but after an hour of sitting there... uh, they got my car together. And as expected, they charged me some outrageous price for fixing my car.

6 years ago, when I moved back to ATL from N.O., I needed a new radiator. They kept my car for a dayum week. I ended up going off on them, especially since my ish was squeaking like crazy afterwards. Cost me 500 bucks. Shoulda been half that, but we talking about Fiya$tone here.

I vowed to never deal with them again. EVER.

Well, here I was, in Charlotte, 2 STATES away from my mechanic. And I had no choice but to fool with Fiya$tone. So I went on up there.

I had no choice. And I got angry about that, before I even walked up in the place.

I got there at about 4 p.m., and told them what I thought the problem was, and they said that they would look at it. But they told me that they would look at it by six, so that meant I had to sit in there for 2 dang hours. I know Fiya$tone. If you don't sit there and stare them down, they sort of forget about your car. So I sat there and worked on a crochet project that I'd brought with me.

Around 4:45 p.m., they said that I did have a busted belt in my tire, but I also had a messed up CV joint.

"I had the CV done 6 months ago. Some cone shaped thingy was replaced," I said.
"That's the CV boot, ma'am," the mechanic replied. "Your joint is busted."

**LadyLee squinting hard, eyeing him suspiciously.**

He proceeded to draw diagrams to convince me of the problem.

"Okay, well fix it," I ordered. "I gotta get back to Atlanta tonight.""We can't do that. It's too late. We can order the part and have it fixed tomorrow.""No, you don't understand," I replied. "Fix my car now."
"No."
**LadyLee nostrils flaring. LadyLee contemplating another sit-in.**

That's when I started straight tripping. Let's just say they started calling auto parts places. Everything was closed. I kept tripping. They got a little nervous then.

"Well, I need a rental car. I will just come back tomorrow. Ya'll better have my car fixed when I get back."

**crickets**

They laughed about that, because they thought I was joking. Another hard stare down ensued. The guy made a few calls. The rental car place was closed. (He called Ente.rprise. "You know, they'll pick you up, Ms. LadyLee!")

"Ent.erprise is closed, but there's an Av.is across the way." He pointed to the place, located in the shopping plaza.
"Well, call them."
"I wouldn't use them. Their cars break down."
"Sh**!"
"Well, I'm just telling you." He proceeds to tell me some long drawn out story about the place.
"So call somewhere else."
"Those are the only two."

I got quiet then, because I had to think. We had a long stare down. Hmm... Charlotte has only 2 car rental places in the WHOLE city.

"So," I said, as calmly as possible. "You mean to tell me there are no more car rental places in the city of Charlotte?"
"No," dude said.

My ears immediately got hot. He had to be joking. I went ahead and just assumed he was stupid. That way, I could refrain myself from lunging across the counter and strangling him.

"Dude, I have to go home, TONIGHT."

He got on the phone and started calling people. He got off the phone and smiled. I thought he had me a car. But he didn't.

He handed me a card. "I got you a free hotel room."

**LadyLee's nostrils flaring.**

I quickly racked my brain. Uh, I don't remember asking for no damn hotel room.

"You do have an airport here, don't you?" I asked, again trying to remain calm.
"Yes."
"And, they do have car rental places, don't they?"
He looked like a deer in the headlights after that.
"You got a phone book?"
He nodded.
"Give it to me."

By this time, I'd been fussing for an hour. I was mentally drained and HIGHLY pissed. They brought in other people to talk with me, because I guess there is nothing worse than an angry black woman talking crazy. One mechanic told me I could drive my car home, but the knocking around of the joint would annoy me. Another said that he wouldn't do that because I could mess up the axel and be stranded. There was ALOT of going back and forth. I even shed a few angry tears at one point.

I was so mad that I couldn't even stay in the place. I took the phone book outside, sat on a bench, and started making calls. Lo and behold, there WERE car rental places at the airport. (Gee, can you believe that?). S23 had driven up by then to come get me. Good thing she did, because I had a vision of myself picking up a chair and busting out a few windows.

I told them that I was leaving, and going back to ATL. I would drive back tomorrow and get my car.

Now, I'd said this a couple of times during our hour long bantering. They'd laughed hard at me about that ("That's CRAZY, Ms. LadyLee!"), which made me want to pick up a tire and throttle them all. But by that time, I was just done. I'd explained that if I was by myself, I would've taken the free hotel room, stayed overnight, and been cool with that. But I had other people with me that needed to go home, and that was that.

So, I went back to S23's place. Book club meeting was still going on... I sat on the couch and started crunching figures on little scrap receipts I had in my purse. To the casual observer it may have looked like I was scribbling down football plays, LOL. I went outside to decompress and to check my bank accounts over my cell phone, and move money around. The Ladybug Mocha , my blog mentor, came outside to make sure I hadn't thrown myself off a cliff, and she did a lot to calm my nerves. (Thanks, gal!).

So we headed for the rental car place at the airport later on. My goal was to rent a car, drop it off in the ATL, and get my sister to bring me back to Charlotte. No can do. If I returned the car in ATL, it would've been 200 dollars a day.

Okay, I haven't rented a car in about 6 years... I don't get this "200 dollars a day" bizness. Looked like I would have to rent a car and run it back up to Charlotte. Whatever. Just wanted to go home right about then.

So I rented the car, drove back to ATL, got home around midnight, and went to bed. I actually slept well that night, which was suprising.

Woke up the next morning, and started calling Fiya$tone as soon as they opened. Reiterated to them over and over that I needed my car fixed THAT day, and it better be ready when I got there. They told me that they would call me as soon as they got the part they needed. The plan was for me to leave ATL as soon as they got the part. It would take me 4 hours to get back up there... and they should have my car ready.

Right?

Right?

WRONG.

In the words of Atlien Nikki... "Those Bastids!!!!"

To be continued.

Kentucky's Baby

When I get home from work everyday, the first thing I do is pour myself a big glass of water.

When I got home the Friday before the 4th of July weekend, I opened the refrigerator to get my water, and I saw a brown paper bag on the top shelf. I am nosy as hell ("I wonder what Kentucky [my sister] got in that bag?)

I opened the bag and saw two baby bottles filled with milk.

*crickets*

I stood there a minute looking at the bottles. They were pretty bottles, covered in pretty little yellow and green flowers.

It crossed my mind that Kentucky had given birth to a baby and was hiding it upstairs!!

Naw, she ain't crazy.

She do stay closed up in that room a lot, though.

She wasn't home at the time. I had a good mind to go up there and pilfer around her room to see what was up. But I didn't. I did what I usually do: got my water and went and laid across the bed and watched Maury.

(Come on now... ya'll know ya'll like that show. "Rakim, when it comes to 10 month old Quantavios, you are NOT the father!!" *Embarrassed baby mama who was talking all that ish a minute ago runs off stage and collapses on a conveniently placed couch in a back corridor; happy accused baby daddy jumps up and does a hip hop dance* Ya'll know ya'll love that ish! LOL!)

I pretty much forgot about Kentucky. I think I even fell asleep for a minute.

I heard her when she finally came home. Not sure what time it was. She came in my room and her face was glowing, all smiles. I saw my cat Oscar-Tyrone, who'd been knocked out sleep at the bottom of the bed, jump up and immediately shoot under the bed.

"Look, Lee!"Kentucky yelled.

She held up a crate.

I was half asleep or something. I just remember thinking... "Damn, that's a strange looking cat."

I sat up in bed. "Uh, you went out and got a dog?"

"No, Lee. This is Mama's dog. She wanted me to keep it for a couple of hours."

I peered a little closer. "Um, is that a PIT?!"

Now when I heard this, the first thing I thought was that my mama was running game and has thrown a damn dog, a baby Pit bull, off on my sister. (Kentucky don't know how to say "NO!") A couple of hours could turn into a couple of lifetimes, and I was all set to have to make a phone call dear old Mom and tell her to come get her dog!

"What is Ma doing with a pit bull," I yelled. "That dog is going to chase her and Sage (her daschund) all around that doggone house!"

Kentucky went on to explain that our mother's next door neighbors raise pit bulls and that this one was the runt and that they were keeping it separated from the mother so that she wouldn't kill it. My mother had decided to hold the runt for them or to keep it (something like that; it all sounded terribly complicated). I am not sure which, and wasn't all that happy about investigating it.

"I'm just keeping him for a couple of hours."

Yeah right.

My sister took the puppy out of the cage and handed it to me. It had to have weighed no more than three pounds, and it was all stomach and head, LOL. I noticed that he had a couple of small black spots on him... and the spots were moving. (Fleas? Oh hell NAW!) He then pissed on me, which I was NOT happy about. As a result, I handed the puppy back to Kay. She took it in the kitchen, and fed it some baby food.

Please don't ask me what's up with that. I am still trying to figure out what THAT was all about.

"Mama said feed it some Gerber's baby food. That's turkey and rice."

*silence*

Then she poured some milk from one of the baby bottles into some bootleg eyedrop bottle and heated it in the microwave for a few seconds and fed the puppy.

"You've got to be kidding me," was all I could think to say.

What was really interesting was the puppy's attitude towards his pet lion.


He was wrestling that thing left and right.

I was like "Look at him. He violent already!"

I was tripping on how much she babied that dog. She fed him every few hours and she stayed up half the night with him. She even went to Petsmart and bought him an 8 DOLLAR can of pet milk. I've never laughed so hard.

But uh, what the heck happened to "I'm just watching him for a couple of hours?"

In other words... When is Ma coming to get her dog?

This dog had fleas. And he smelled like a dog. And Oscar-Tyrone was walking around looking shellshocked, looking at me like... "Oldgirl, I want a friend, someone to play with, but this is some craziness! Get rid of it NOW!"

LOL.

The whole situation was hilarious. I wasn't worried about where Ma was, because if the dog wasn't gone by the end of the weekend, it would be unceremoniously returned to her. I decided to let Kentucky have her fun.

Our Ma did come to get the puppy on Saturday evening. Thank goodness.

Milk and Cookies named the dog "Skeeter". He said that he named it that because he pisses everywhere. Leave it up to Milk and Cookies to come up with some idiotic name. He even took the puppy back to the military base for the weekend? (Milk and Cookies, can you do that, man?)

All in all, there was bit too much exictement around my house for a day and a half. That dog is terribly spoiled.

I'm just glad Kentucky wasn't hiding a real baby up in her room!

The GOOD NURSE and the 'Shed (Part II)

Click here for The GOOD NURSE and the 'Shed (Part I)

So, my brother and I met the Good Nurse at the Watershed.

And like I said, that had to be THE best southern cooked comfort food I've ever had.

And when I say "Comfort food", I'm talking comfort food to the tenth degree!

Maybe I was just hungry.

Nah, that ain't it. That food was GOOD.

Now, the Watershed is a restaurant located in downtown Decatur, a city on the East side of Atlanta, about 10 minutes from downtown Atlanta. It is located in a converted gas station.

Yeah, that's right, a gas station. You can tell it was an old gas station by the windows and the garage doors and the painted cement floor. Interesting concept. I would have never thought of it, but interesting indeed.

We went in, had a seat, and chit-chatted for awhile. Even got a chance to meet the executive chef, Scott Peacock.

Okay, the Good Nurse knew chef. And she knew the menu VERY well. Obviously she'd been there MANY many times. She described each and every dish with GREAT enthusiasm.

Heck, I joked with her that if The Watershed ever started running commercials, she would be a prime candidate for spokesperson

I could see her standing there grinning down and doing the running man, yelling "Come to the 'shed! Come to the 'shed!"

Yeah, she knew the place all too well. When the chef comes out to talk to you and give you a hug? Yeah, you are a regular!

He even sent us a complimentary appetizer of stone ground shrimp grits and toast.

Damn, those grits were GOOD. Wish I could make grits like THAT. I think there was some cheese in them, too. Goodness gracious.

Well, we perused the menu for awhile. There was much southern fare. The Good Nurse was very vocal about what she liked. VERY vocal! She liked everything. And that's always a good thing. She said something quite interesting, that truly caught my attention:

The Macaroni-n-Cheese was made by God. It is straight from the throne room.

I was thinking to myself, don't no macaroni and cheese taste THAT good.

My brother was wide-eyed and staring. I think he believed her, because he sure did order it!

We placed our orders. I ordered a fried oyster appetizer. I ordered the fresh fish of the day (sea bass, grilled), mashed sweet potatoes, collard greens, and cornbread for my entree. My brother and the Good Nurse ordered the fried catfish with collard greens and macaroni-n-cheese.

First of all, all I gotta say is that they need to remove those "foo-foo" pretty pics from their website and put up some REAL pictures. They give you A LOT of food. A whole lot of food. The pictures on the website would not steer me towards the place. Not at all!

I'm not sure what's up with the pretty pictures, but they need to kill that noise!!!!

I watched as my brother took a bite of his macaroni and cheese, which supposedly came, as the Good Nurse said, straight from the throne room. My brother melted in his chair, in reverence to the macaroni and cheese. I could have knocked him over with a feather. I stabbed my fork into his bowl and grabbed a fork full.

"I told you," the Good Nurse whispered. "I told you it was straight from the throne room."

All I gotta say is that the Good Nurse was right... the macaroni and cheese was GOOD, straight from the throne room, made by God.

We sat there for an hour, eating and savoring our dinner. I gotta say, I've never had food so good. For dessert we ordered chocolate cake (named "Very Good chocolate cake" on the menu, and it was "very good" indeed) and a pecan tart. The pecan tart did not have a regular pastry crust, but had some type of shortbread cookie crust. Now that was different, something I would have never thought of. The chocolate cake was very dark, very rich, and had a strong coffee-like taste...

Ooooooh... they were both sooooo doggone good.

Needless to say, after all of that food, we all had the "Itis" something terrible. Just couldn't move. My poor brother didn't even finish his food. He needed a take-home box.

Now we got there at around 5 pm. We were still sitting there at 8 pm.

We were kicked out asked to leave around that time.

The manager, or whoever the dude was, came by our table and removed our extra trash. Then he came back, knelt down, and said, with a wonderful colgate smile...

"Could you please move your conversations to the lobby, because we have reservations to fill."

In other words... "Ya'll need to raise up outta here!"

Humph.

We left. It would have been funny if we would have just sat there a little while longer. That would have been oh so ghetto. And, we probably would've been locked up by now, LOL!

I talked to LadyTee about it later that night.

"Crazy girl, that's what you get. You are not suppose to sit there that long. Ya'll were in the wrong."

(Shut up, LadyTee.)

But um... that food was good. The website didn't do it justice. They could have beat us down, and thrown us out on our heads, and I would STILL go back. That's just how good it was.

Now the executive chef of The Watershed, Scott Peacock, co-authored a book with another chef, the late Edna Lewis, a few years ago, entitled The gift of Southern Cooking: Recipes and Revelations from Two Great American Chefs. I made sure to go pick up the cookbook because I just HAD to know how he made that doggone macaroni and cheese. The recipe is long, with more ingredients than I would have ever thought to put in macaroni and cheese, but it looks doable. I may make it for my next family gathering. But for now, if I want some, I'll just stop by there and pick up some. It is VERY very rich. No need in having too much of it around, LOL.

Now, I spent a couple of hours reading the cookbook, as it was full of wonderful stories behind all the food. That's what I like in a cookbook. And the recipes were simple, made with ingredients readily available at any grocery store. I definitely don't regret buying it, and I hope to use it to prepare something for a family gathering or one of my book club meetings...

Now, back to The Good Nurse. She has to be one of the funniest, wittiest, smartest people I've ever met. She had me in stitches. I think that's the real reason we were asked to leave. We were sitting there watching people and talking about them and cracking on them. I think management was watching us. That's probably what really happened, LOL!!!

But Nurse Cook, it was good to meet you and to share a meal with someone who reads my blog!

Now after meeting you, I'm looking sideways at Tayari.... Yeah Tayari, I bet you got CRAZY side to you! To be hanging with the Good Nurse? I know you do, LOL!!!

You know we gotta hook up again!!

And next time...

Let's not get thrown up out the place.

The GOOD NURSE and the 'Shed (Part I)

You know, I always wonder about folks who pull up my blog on a regular basis and read my random thoughts. Yeah, yeah, my friends and coworkers and my Auntie Joyce (Hey AuntieJ) read because they know me…

My book club sistas, who know me to be notoriously quiet, read it. Let's just say that they aren't fooled by my quiet facade anymore, LOL.

But what about people who don’t blog, but happen upon my blog by chance or by way of another blog?

I always wanted to meet someone who took time to read my ramblings…

So when I got a blurb in my comment section a few weeks ago…

"Hey LL, I am a good friend of Tayari aka celie..anyhoo, i absolutely love your blog...by the way..i live here in Atl, we must meet over coffee and a good slice of poundcake... Nurse Cook."

I was like… Hmmmmmm.

Lo and Behold, a resident of LURK CITY speaketh!!

...I didn’t respond to the comment. Thought about it, but didn’t respond.

Plus, I don't really drink coffee.

So Tayari and I happened to be emailing back and forth one morning and I told her that her girl Nurse Cook wanted to meet up for coffee. I made one particular statement to Tayari in particular:

"I needed to talk to you and make sure she ain't special..."

Meaning... she ain’t crazy or anything, is she?

I wanted to know if The Good Nurse was psychotic, or an axe-murderer or something like that. I needed to know if I needed to bring my glock or have my shank ready for a bit of... Shanktification.

And I don't like dealing with stuck-up or overly literary folks... You know, Tayari fools with that literary crowd. I'm not on that level. I mean, I just ain't there yet, and probably won't get there. I ain't smart enough to be around literary types. And I would probably have to put the smack down on a stuck-up broad.

Tayari responded: "She's actually a friend of mine from "real life". She's really really cool. You will be happy to know her."

Okay. Cool. That was good enough for me. And Tayari knows that if she was lying, there would be some payback...

...I would heckle her at her next book signing and reading.

So I tell Tayari to tell her homie to hit me up on my Oldgirl email account. We could hook up.

Well, The Good Nurse and I played tag on email, and tried to get together for a couple of weeks, but it didn’t pan out. You see, we are some Divas (although I am 1% Diva), with some Diva-like schedules, and it was sort of like double-dutch jumproping.

...We had to jump in where we could get in.

Well, I told her that we would get up by the end of the year, LOL.

I even spoke with her briefly on the phone once. The GOOD NURSE is a bit off the chain... I couldn't really picture her and Tayari hanging out. The Good Nurse seem like the type that will have you 'bout locked up somewhere, LOL!!

But after emailing back and forth for a couple of weeks, we decided to hook up last Friday…

Now, my plan was to drive in to work and work the 6:00 am-2:30 pm schedule. Jet at 2:30 pm, go home, change out of the head scarf, sneakers, and sweats, and then meet up with The Good Nurse.

But it didn’t go down like that.

Problem: I am as spoiled as milk left out in the summer heat for a few days. Hen-Dog chauffeurs me to work each and everyday. I balked at driving in to work, especially since I went to sleep at 2 a.m. the night before. So I laid in bed until Hen called with my daily wake up call (Wake up, Little Girl!), and I decided to ride with him. I would have to figure out how to get home and change later on. My decent clothes were laid out at home, and I could just get dropped back off and change and it’s all good.

Of course it didn’t work out like that.

First of all, it looks like everybody and their mama took off from work due to the long 3 day weekend, Mardi Gras, etc. I think there were only three people from my group at work on Friday. The work load had kicked up (as it usually does on Fridays. Talk about ass backwards!) So we worked like some Hebrew slaves back in the labs that day. It didn’t help that I’d drank some caffeine laced steamed milk drink that morning, and I wasn’t feeling all that great.

And then, my baby brother Milk and Cookies was in town on military leave for the weekend, and he wanted to see me. He drove down to my job, so I had to babysit him and do my work at the same time... So I was a bit perplexed and exhausted, to say the least (My bro can be as clingy as a two year old at times). I was not in the mood to be going home and changing. If I went home, I was gonna crawl in the bed and take a PHAT nap. I was going to have to go as I was.

(Note to self: Simply bring a change of clothes to work.)

Milk and Cookies asked what I was doing later on.

“I’m hanging out with someone who reads my blog, one of Tayari’s homegirls.”
“Okay,” he said. "Where ya'll going?"
"Some place called The Watershed."
"Where is that at?" he asked.
"Down off of Ponce somewhere," I responded. “You can go with me if you like. We are having dinner, and it’s on me.”


Milk and Cookies smiled. His 32 teeth sparkled. His diamond earrings twinkled in the afternoon sunlight. There was even a twinkle in his eye.

Yeah, Milk and Cookies is always hungry. He wanted something to eat. And he gets especially giddy if it is free food, you know. I had 3 debit cards and 7 credit cards on me. I think I had enough money to feed the hungry boy, myself, and the Good Nurse.

I think...

And he was my bootleg ride home. Ya'll know how much I LOVE being chauffeured around!

Really though.

Anyway, I am PISSED at The Good Nurse right about now. Now, I asked her a couple of weeks ago where she would like to eat. (I ditched that whole sitting down for a cup of coffee idea. I ain't a big fan of coffee!) Anything was fine with me, as long as I didn’t have to fool with no craziness like some chittlins and pig feets, etc.

She suggested The Watershed. But you know, she was acting like she wasn’t all that sure about it. Like she didn’t know a lot of restaurants in town, but she was thinking about the Watershed. And the way she was saying it was with a low level of enthusiasm, like ...

“Oh, let’s go to McDonalds.”

So I went and looked up The Watershed on the net, and found the website. I perused the food and the menus. Thought to myself after seeing the food so lovingly arranged on the plates:

“What the hell?? This is some ‘foo-foo’ sh**!”

She and Tayari were running partners back up in Illinois somewhere, and had been running around in the cornfields up there, and I assumed that they didn’t know what good food was.

Whatever. This was a fan of my blog. Hey, wherever she wanted to go, we could go… even if it was on the "foo-foo" tip!

What she SHOULD have been saying was…

“Check it out, LadyLee... Listen up: We going to the %$#@%@ 'SHED, and that's that!!!!! You hear me?"

Uh, why do I say that?

Because... it was the BEST southern comfort food I’ve EVER had. EVER.

To be continued…

Lunch... HOT DAMN!!! (Part II of II)

Click here for "Lunch... HOT DAMN!!! (Part I of II): Tale of the Dresscode"

Well, I get a call from Tayari... I give her directions to my job, and she gets there. I direct her to park in the gated carpool area, and we walk over to Silk...

Now, while I was directing her into a parking space, a "special" employee (one of a couple we ran up on that day, LOL!) was harrassing me about the usual office politics isshas that we have been discussing for years (goodness!). I wanted to yell "Would you PLEASE give it a rest?!! Do you realize Tayari Jones is walking this way?! I don't want to talk about job isshas right now!!!!"

I swear... some people. That's what I get for being nice to people, ain't it?

Anyway, we headed across the street to Silk.

It was hot that day (60 degrees), and I had on a sweat shirt (because my lab is sometimes a bit chilly)... But with all the running around/pontificating I'd been doing and my nerves being an inch away from being completely shot, mixed with the excitement of my favorite author coming to see me...

LAWD!! It is a wonder that I didn't pass out...

One of my coworkers had said earlier, "Dang LadyLee, two mother brains going to lunch. That's two much brain power for Silk. Ya'll gonna to walk in and the electricity gonna short out or something. The lights are gonna go bzzzz-bzzzzzz-bzzzzz... That's way too much intelligence concentrated in one place. Man!!"

I thought about that... I know, like always, some serious knowledge was gonna be dropped over in Silk... and I think I was a bit antsy about that, too, LOL!!

Anyway, we head over to Silk and are seated at a booth. (Yes, there was no dress code. This was a good thing because I would peering out from behind jail bars instead of writing this post).

We perused the menu. I had no idea what to order. My book club sista, Shunda, had gone there for her birthday, and I meant to shoot her an email earlier asking her opinion on what to order. We didn't talk about it then... Our convo was a bit strange and funny...

LadyLee: "You went to Silk for your birthday? I work across the street from Silk!"

Shunda: "Gurl, it was good. It's foo-foo, but it's good!"

LadyLee: *frowning hard* "Foo-foo?"

Shunda: "Yeah girl! It's foo-foo! "

What the...?

*LadyLee looking at Shunda with great suspicion*

She explained that "foo-foo" meant pretty food. Which to me means NO FOOD. LOL!

Well, we placed our orders, and talked. I was sweating like a dog, because it was HOT in there, and I was nervous, but eventually I calmed down, LOL! We talked about a lot of stuff: family, relationships, life, etc... I was sitting there thinking, "Dang, this is like sitting around talking to LadyTee, except for we are not sitting around joning out and cracking on the people around us."

LOL!!

Tayari ordered a shrimp dish, while I ordered the sea bass and fresh vegetables. I thought she would get that high ass $75 Kobe steak... That would've been cool, because I had a platinum card and three debit cards on me. I almost suggested it, but um, I was thinking that that amount is enough to pay my light bill, LOL!!

All I gotta say... that doggone food was GOOD. I've tried to cook sea bass only once, and um, let's just say, that fish produces a TON of oil. And at 14 bucks a pound, the Oldgirl was leaving that ish alone, and sticking to the cheap trouts and the cheap croakers. But the Sea bass at Silk was GOOD. Tayari enjoyed her food too. I will have to get what she got the next time I go over there!

She was throwing back the coffee, too. What a sight! That was funny... If I would've drank ANYTHING with caffeine... goodness, I would have been a bit too talkative and "special" during lunch!

We also talked about writing... She asked me about my manuscript...

"So what is it about, LadyLee?"

*Ladylee's heart jumping up into her throat, trying her BEST to figure out how to explain the plot.*

Man, I don't even remember what I said. We've never talked about it, and it is some type of cardinal sin from the deepest depths of hell to ask an author to read any of your work, so I've never spoken much about it, out of pure fear of being struck by a bolt of lightning or something. I think I need to go write down a speech and memorize it or something. I just remember my heart beating like a bass drum and my ears getting hot. Her expression was neutral. She nodded a couple of times. That's all I could read. Didn't know if she liked the idea or not, really.

And I wasn't going to ask, either. Hell nawl. If she would've said, "That's stupid, LadyLee!", I would have torched all 950 pages of my manuscript and tossed the remnants into Peachtree street traffic. Shoot, I would have shut down my blog and never write again.

We talked about her manuscript. Now I was trying my BEST to keep from cheesing TOO hard when she was talking about that!! Man, I am waiting on her next book like a crackhead is waiting on the pipe!!!

She had dessert, some chocolate cheesecake thingy with ice cream on top. I wanted some, but I am not eating sweets this month, so, um, I missed out! (DARN IT!).

But you know me, right? You know the Oldgirl... I had to ask some writing questions...

I'd been struggling with creating metaphors and similes something terrible. And since Tayari comes up with teeth shattering, bone crushing, heat scorching, body rocking metaphors and similes, and has the ability to wrap several in one sentence... You know I had to ask her "How DO you DO that?"

She said...

(Now do you REALLY think that I am actually gonna tell you what she said. HELL NO!! If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya!! Ancient chinese secret, babes!!)

We finished up our lunch and talked a little more. Man, if you EVER get a chance to go to Silk, please GO!! At least go for lunch! The prices are reasonable(half of what the dinner prices are), and they give you a good amount of food. We weren't stuffed, but we were pleasantly full!!

And best of all... there's no DRESSCODE for lunch, LOL!!!

I asked her if she wanted a laboratory tour. She said yes, because she'd never seen a working lab before. So I got her all checked in at security and showed her my lab... She met some of my blog characters coworkers, namely the Infamous Hen-Dog, Cowgirl Cre, and my boss The Darth Sista T. She was truly amazed at our set-up and all that we do there. Hen-Dog suggested that I take her down to the filth lab, but um, that would have completely grossed her out (as it does gross me out as it is), and I would probably never see her again! Her eyebrows were raised a bit when I mentioned that I'd set myself on fire before! (I should blog about my fire(s) and my explosions... Not sure if you as non-scientists would get a kick out of it. Us chemists consider that type of stuff hilarious, especially when no one gets hurt! We actually like to do re-enactments of that type of stuff!).

All in all, this was a GREAT visit! It's always good to see her! I didn't realize we had a lot in common. Plus she dropped some serious knowledge on me. I already look at the creation of similes and metaphors MUCH differently... And Tayari, you will be happy to know that I have come up with some pretty good ones for my writing since we've talked. Don't take much for me to see the light, mayne!

I walked her back to her car. I tried to take a parting picture with my camera, but my camera was dead. (There were some serious pontifications/discussions about picture taking earlier between myself and my coworkers, with me killing the convos by yelling "Hell nawl, I ain't taking pictures! I'm not gonna bother her! Ya'll trying to mess me up! I'm not harrassing her with the camera like I did last time! NO! We are going to go and eat, and that's it!!!!").

But she allowed me to use her camera and take a pic as she left...

All in all, I had a great time! How often does ANYONE get to spend time with their favorite author, actor, sanger, or favorite anybody? And this was only the 4th day of the New Year.

Goodness gracious alive!!

Dang, I hope this is an indication of a suprise-filled year!

Come on, 2007!! LOL!

Come back soon, Tayari:) Next time, I'll take you down to the filth lab, Celie!

LOL!!

Lunch... HOT DAMN!!!!!! (Part I of II): Tale of the Dresscode

Okay... here's the scene:

I was sitting at my desk in my cubicle last Thursday...

Just chillin'.

Now, my coworkers will tell you...

This was pretty bizarre for me, because I lose my mind around too much silence. I usually have music playing on my laptop (to the point where my supervisor, Darth Sista T, calls and says through clenched teeth, "Lee, turn that music down!!"), or we are all involved in some type of bolo bat or jacks competition. We have even been known to get into some heated arguments where my boss comes looking for ME (even though I may not be involved), since I am the black sheep and the root to most of the swashbuckling shenanigans that go on in this cubicle area...

No... all was quiet in the cubicle area that day...

I was sitting there, at my cubicle, pouring through my manuscript, reluctantly reading and printing out chapters. The only excitement that morning and the day before was that I had written a short story entitled "Presumption Personified", and people were stopping by to tell me what they thought of it...

I was also becoming more disturbed by the minute by my cubicle mate Cowgirl Cre. She'd been sneezing and coughing all morning. She was coming down with what seem to be a hellacious cold.

*LadyLee peering cautiously over her shoulder each time Cowgirl Cre sneezes... silently wondering why she just don't take her sick a$$ home*

Anyway, there was the usual email thread going on between myself, The DJ DIVA, and the Super Shoe Queen Serenity 23. I have no idea what we were talking about that morning. I am a tomboy... They are high heel shoe wearing, runway walking Divas of the world. They like to get off on talking about shoes, hair weaves, etc., sometimes, which causes pure silence on my side of the thread... I am down for them shorties, but I, LadyLee, am not a Diva. Let's talk about Nikes and playstation, baby!!

Anyway, back to the subject at hand...

Tayari Jones, my faaaavorite author, and I start emailing back and forth that morning. I made a comment on her blog about her washing her big gargantuan cat, Johnny Baby.



On the end of one of those emails she tagged on...


"...What are you up to? You are back at work, huh? Where is your job located? Maybe I could meet you for lunch or something..."

****crickets****

Okay, I am getting better ya'll... I didn't jump around the lab like I did a few months ago, yelling and screaming and scaring the hell out of folk, knocking over chairs, causing people to jump out of my path....

Naw... I did good this time.

For one thing, I read it only 2 times, not just sitting there, pondering the overall meaning of the statement...

Nope, I backed up the chair from my computer screen, grabbed the phone that Cowgirl Cre and I share, and quickly dialed up LadyTee.

"'Sup Lee-Lee?"
"LadyTee."
"What?"
"LadyTee," I whined.
"What you want, broad?? Damn!!"
"Guess what?"
"What, Lee?"
"Tayari wants to go to lunch!"
"Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Go on, girl!!"

*Lee cheesing really HARD*

I talked to LadyTee about some unrealated stuff for a minute, while emailing back and forth with Tayari. I had lost all interest in my manuscript by that time. Tayari didn't mention lunch for a minute there, so I was a bit deflated, thinking that she was just kidding, so i didn't mention it... But a few minutes later, i got the following...

"Let's meet for lunch around 1.. how does that sound?"

I almost jumped over the cubicle, Mayne, LOL!!

Naw, I was cool... I chilled and acted like I had some damn sense. The only problem was that I didn't have my car that day, as I am cheerfully chaffeured to work carpool everyday with the Infamous Hen-Dog. That wasn't really a problem, though. Hen-Dog was busy, and his keys were laying in his cubicle on his desk. Nothing wrong with a little grand auto theft for an hour... All of a sudden I REALLY got excited... I was sitting there, filled with glee, because I was gonna drive Hen's tricked out late model top of the line Altima, with the leather seats and the seat warmers... The last time I drove his car, I was dropping him and his friend off at a Falcon's game, rolling down Capitol avenue at top speed screaming...

"Awww DAMN, I have got to get me one of THESE"..

*Hen-Dog and his homeboy sitting there, staring at me, holding on to their seats*

Yeah, I was gonna snatch that negro's car and leave him a note, telling him I not to worry, I'd be right back...

But I got another email from Tayari...

"...I've got my car so I can scoop you. what's fun to eat over there?"

So now, I am really tripping...

And it was beginning to look like lunch would become a reality... So I sent an email back of all the places that were around here- sandwich shops, noodle houses, pizza and burger places... and this place...

Silk Steak and Seafood Restaurant.

Now Silk is an upscale Pan Asian restaurant that is listed on many of the top ten best places to eat lists in Atlanta. It has been across the street from my job for a good couple of years, I believe, but all most of us have done is stare out the workplace window at the place and just... wonder.

"You know, they sell $75.00 steaks over there," I said one day. "I know, because I went up in there and got a takeout menu."

"Shoot, we won't be rolling up in there. Guess we will have to stick to the sandwich shop across the street," said random co-worker.

But today? Wasn't going down like that.

You gotta understand... This to me was like somebody like Barack Obama, Michael Jackson, Condoleeza Rice, Denzel Washington, Janet Jackson, or Beyonce... somebody like that calling up and saying...

"Hey Oldgirl, let's go get lunch!"

In other words, ain't nobody thinking about no damn club sandwich, pizza, burger or fries...

Me and Celie was fixin' to eat, and we was fixin' to eat GOOD...

So, the chemists in my immediate cubicle area knew that I was going to go have lunch with Tayari Jones.

Why? Because I went and told each one personally.

"Guess what... Tayari Jones is coming down here, and we are going to lunch."

*LadyLee grinning so hard that you can see all thirty-two teeth, tonsils, and her esophagus.*

I even went over to my boss Darth Sista T's office. When I entered without knocking, she looked up from what she was doing. She frowned hard, like she's ready to snatch her earrings off and kick off her high heels and fight or something. I walked into her office and stood in front of her desk, frowning just as hard, ready to kick off my Nikes and my fake gold hoops and go toe-to-toe.

"What LadyLee?!! What is it?!!!" she hissed.

"Look here, check it out, Sista T," I declared boldly. "Tayari Jones, my favorite author in the whole wide world,is coming down here, and we are going to lunch. I'm just letting you know."

That was pretty much my codeword for "Don't be paging me and looking for me because I won't be in the building. I am taking way over the 30 minute lunch. Don't talk sh** when I get back, you hear me?"

I have to make these things crystal clear. I really don't care though, since I am considered the crazy black sheep on the job, thrown under the bus on a regular basis. It was just a matter of making an announcement so she wouldn't be acting all ignorant later on. I have been known for telling management very loudly to go sit on a tack. Hopefully, this could be avoided that day. If not, going to lunch with Tayari Jones was well worth being thrown under the bus.

Anyway, I look at how I am dressed: sweats and sneakers, my usual gear for work.

Look, I've been working in chemical labs every since I was 16, some 20 years now... I have set myself on fire, had a few explosions, etc. I have spilled chemicals on good clothes, thrown them in the washer, and they come out full of holes. I have ruined hundreds of dollars in shoes and clothing. I even messed up my favorite hunter green long sleeve silk shirt fooling around out in the fields with a bunch of entomologists, digging around for termites in the French Quarter.

Uggh!!

Therefore I have learned to come to work as bummy as possible.

I found Silk's phone number, called them up, and grilled them on dress code.

They said sweats and sneakers were fine. But I was speaking with someone who didn't have the best command of the English language, so I took their word with a grain of salt...

Hen-Dog happened to be walking to his cubicle. He told me a while back that he'd been to Silk.

Come here, boy," I yelled.

He walked over. "What, gurl?"

"What's the dress code like over at Silk?"

He looked back and forth between Cowgirl Cre and myself, as if he was trying to decide if we were trying to trick him. We just stared at him, real hard like, waiting for the answer.

He shrugged. "I don't know. You can probably walk up in there butt-naked if you want to!"

Okay, he was no help. I waved him off. He went back to his desk.

I make my way to the other side of the building, even to the building next door, accessible via walkthrough, to spread this most exciting news. Many employees were excited for me, as they should be. Afterall, I am Tayari Jones' bootleg work for free Atlanta PR one woman firm. I am that crazy "touched" chick that stands on the corner, banging a heavy cooking pot with a metal spoon, screaming at the top of my lungs...

"Buy Tayari Jones' books!!!!!"

Yeah, they were excited for me.

"Where ya'll going to eat?"

"We're going to Silk!!!" I announced proudly, still cheesing down like my name is Celie.

*Employees screaming with glee. Employees breaking out in some impromptu dance number from "The Wiz", singing "Can you... feel a... brand new DAAAAYYY!!!?"*
LOL!!

However...

One employee BLATANTLY looked me up and down. I said something before she could.

"Oh, I already called Silk. They said no dress code."

They made a couple other comments.

I got real defensive.

"Aw na'll, me and Tayari, we girls, now, we girls. We cool! It's all good. She not gonna care how I'm dressed. We cool. We girls. She cool! She not stuck up like that. We just going to get something to eat. It's all good."

Humph. Pissed me off a bit. But at the same time, it spooked me something terrible.

*LadyLee swiping ID card so she can get out of the building.*

I hightailed it right on over across the street to Silk and talked to the Maitre D.

"Look here, what's the dress code?!" I spat.
He frown and looked at me like I had been smoking dope or something. "What?"
"Dress code. What is the dress code like?"
He looked me up and down. "What are you talking about? You're okay. Sweats are fine. Just come on over."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, still completely perturbed that I would ask such a thing. "It's lunch time, just get over here by two o'clock. The kitchen closes at two."
"Okay," I exhaled. I asked for a takeout menu, thenI turned to leave.
"You be sure to come back, now!"
"Dude, I'm coming back at one o'clock."
He smiled hard. "See you then."

(Why was he acting like I wasn't coming back? Hmm.)

You know, I had to go ask. It would be terrible if we walked up in Silk and they refused to service us.

My goodness... I would have hated to do what I've been known to do in the past: Throw around my "Dr." title and scream to see the manager. Or worse, I would have hated to grab a baseball bat and break out every window of that doggone place. I would have hated to kick the manager in his grill (teeth).

That would have been so freakin' terrible. I would have hated for my family to see me on the news, face down on the ground in hancuffs.

So I had a little more confidence then. Yeah, I was bum of the year that day, but um, that's the way I come to work. I hate labcoats, so whatever I spill on my clothes, is not a problem. I can throw my clothes away. That's just that. Nothing spectacular ever happens to me while at work anyway. Nothing! So why dress up?

Well, I get a call from Tayari... I give her directions to my job, and she gets there. I direct her to park in the gated carpool area, and we walk over to Silk...

to be continued...