Crazy Convos... Of Ferris Wheels and Haircuts

I have some of the funniest conversations these days. They have me laughing hard.

Ferris Wheel. So, a couple of weeks ago, I posted about the new Ferris Wheel in downtown Atlanta. I have no desire to jump on any ride that took less than two weeks to build. I asked my best friend

LadyTee if she was excited about the new ferris wheel.

"Hey girl, they got that new Ferris Wheel downtown. You gonna ride it?"

*silence*

"It's right down there by the aquarium," I continued when she didn't respond. "It cost $13 dollars for adults, so that's not bad. I think the tourists would like it. But I'm not jumping on anything that got put up that quick."

LadyTee sighed. "Girl, listen. It's been raining EVERY day in the ATL since May. They laid out that cement on that wet ground. I know it's cement, but that stuff need time to settle. But the ground is soaking wet"

"I didn't even think about that aspect of it."

Yes, it has been raining cats and dogs for the past couple of months. I'm surprised my house hasn't slid down the street.

"Now come 2015?" LadyTee continued, "Oh yeeaaaah! Oh yeah, girl. I'll ride that. I'm up on it. But that ground need to settle. And some rain and snow gotta hit that. Lightning need to strike it. And the sun gotta shine on it a little more. I'll jump on it in 2015. Not now, playa!"

"I know that's right!" I said.

"Now them white folks? You know they hollering 'Yes! I'm going to go ride the ferris wheel! I'm going to be the first one on it!' Not me, girl. Not me."

Much laughter behind that one.  Ladytee use to work up in Buckhead. "Up there with them white folks," she always says. And that makes her an expert on their behavior. And she is always right.

I'm not jumping on that ferris wheel either, LadyTee. It's not for us anyway. It's for the tourists. But come 2015, if that sucker hasn't fallen down yet, you and me... we can go ride together.

Yes we can.

Haircut. So I got a haircut last week. I wrote about it briefly on Friday, I believe.

But it wasn't that simple. No indeed.

I walked in, equipped with a photo of my blog sista Serenity_23's hair. And they directed me to this young fella named Soho.

Soho... he sure was fine, with his lil' red bone self, and his arms full of colorful tattoos. I needed to stop looking at him. He couldn't be no older than my little brother. Soho was indeed a "Milk and Cookies" himself.

And I upset Soho something awful.

He took my smartphone and stared hard at the picture. "I can't cut your hair like that. Ya'll got different hair."

She has that "good hair", you see. And I don't have good hair.

We discussed all of this in politically correct terms.

"Well cut my hair like yours, then," I said.

This started a big discussion and a lecture about how everybody's hair is not the same.

I stood there listening and nodding, all the while thinking... Dude, just cut my hair.

He sat me down in his chair. Then he started picking out my hair with his steel teeth afro pick.

"What's this in your hair? You got shea butter in your hair?"

"Yes, and some coconut oil."

Soho lectured me once again. "When you come in here, come in here with your hair dry. Bone dry."

"I'm sorry," I said real slow.

All the while I was thinking... Dude, just cut my hair.

Then he actually started cutting my hair.

"Look at this," he hollered. "My clippers, they overheating!"

He showed me the clippers.

"My clippers! They hot! They hot!"

He showed me the clippers again. They looked fine. They weren't smoking or anything. And if my hair caught on fire, I was gonna jump up and kick his butt.

"My clippers, they so hot!"

"I'm sorry," I said once again. I really wanted to say... Dude, just cut my hair.

He kept cutting my hair, all the while running his mouth.

"Why you squinting so hard he asked?

"I hear the clippers," I said, still squinting. "It reminds me of a dentist's drill."

"You ladies," he said. "You want your hair cut short, but you're afraid of clippers."

The shop was interesting. There weren't many folks in there. And Judge Judy was on the flat screen TVs. There were two huge flat screen TV's on the walls. I thought this was a bit odd, since in the ATL, a week doesn't go by that someone doesn't slam a stolen truck through a storefront and steal televisions, hair weave, and designer jeans.

I'm sure someone has come in and cased that joint.

But I didn't mention this to Soho. He was too busy wailing.

A whole gang of bruthas exited the back room of the shop. Heck, I didn't know what was going on. Everyone was giving everyone fist pounds and shout outs. It was like they just finished up some black power civil rights meeting.

They sure were fine. But they were interrupting that interesting episode of Judge Judy. They eventually left.

Judge Judy went off. And the news came on. And there was some camera footage from a gas station robbery a few blocks away. The barbers were commenting on how the guy shooting the gun had never shot a gun before.

"Look at him. He don't even know how to shoot. Look how he holding that gun."

You know how my mind works. I start thinking about these comments.

This must be why no one robs them, and why these TVs can just hang freely on the wall in a full glass storefront, I thought.

All these bruthas up in here must be packing heat.

O_O

Things quieted down again.

And then it was just me, Your Friendly Neighborhood Oldgirl LadyLee...

And ol' fine Soho.

When he was about done, all my shea buttered hair was on the floor. That guy continued hollering.

"Ohhhhh, you done messed my my mat. All this greasy hair on my mat! OHHHHHHH!!!!!"

"Look, look, look. Listen to this," he said. He slides across the floor, and his sneakers make a squeaky noise, sort of like when you walk on an office floor after coming in from the rain.

I thought he was exaggerating. I only put a teaspoon of shea butter on my hair, and by the end of the day, it's pretty much dry. That little bit couldn't have that joker slipping and sliding that hard.

I just sat there and said, for the umpteenth time, "I'm sorry."

I really wanted to say, Dude would you just calm down and cut my hair.

He was a rather talkative fellow. I am not. And he soon realized that, and left me alone. And he shut up all that whining. Goodness.

But I am going back to him. He did what I needed him to do. That's all I want....

Hopefully next time he will calm down.

And just cut my hair.

Crazy Convos with Kentucky

Conversations with my little sister Kentucky start off simple enough:

Phone rings. I notice her number. I pick up.

"Wassup girl?"
"Hey Lisa," she says in her light voice with the hard Southern drawl.

She's an elementary school teacher, and she has been preparing for the upcoming school year. And with that comes the influx of new students... and the plethora of interesting names.

"I got some names for you," she said.
"Oh no," I groaned.

She usually spells out the name, and I have to attempt to announce it. (Note: I placed periods in the names so they won't come up on a search since they are so... original).

"This name is going to really trip you out," she says. "N.vee Miss Bertha Betsy Mae Wa.lker"

*crickets*

"You lying!" I holler.

"Nope. Saw that one the other day. And 'Miss' is actually a part of her name."

I pondered this. Why on earth would a parent name their child that?

"That's some family name mess. Those are names of grandmamas, of great aunts or something like that. Still odd."

Then Kentucky bust out with some other names. "There are some twin girls also. Their names are Shi.crayon and Shi.marker."

Wow. Some parent out there really likes their writing utensils.

Geesh. Have you heard of such a thing?  That's quite... original.

Last year, the most interesting name she told me of was a little girl named Beefa.roni.

Nickname: Beef.

*blink*blink*

Mama and Daddy must love some Chef Boyardee. That is all.

Those babies have strange names. Those babies will go on to do great things despite that.

Anyway our conversation moved along from that tomfoolery.

"Hey," I said. "I need you to paint my toenails. I figure I can either pay you to do it or I can pay them Asians to do it. And I don't need a pedicure, just need you to remove the old chipped stuff and paint them."

"I'll do it," she said. "I just have to see if I have some fingernail polish remover."

"You think they got sell fingernail polish remover at the QuikTrip gas station next to your place?"

"No," she said through a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

She giggled.. "The gas station selling fingernail polish remover."

"Shoot, they sale everything else up in that joint."

I heard her rummaging around. "That's alright, I found some!"

"Alright, because you know I'd run up in the gas station and ask if they sold it."

I told her I would come over. She said she had cooked dinner. Pork chops, fried corn and squash and baked whole sweet potatoes.

"I don't care about no pork. I want some squash and fried corn and sweet potatoes, though.  And I have some greens and a piece of cornbread. We can share that!"

"Okay," she said.

It was noon at the time. I told her I would be over by four.

Then our conversation turned to more serious matters. I asked her about school. She was still getting the room together, and had been spending a week doing that. But she had received some news that she would be co-teaching with another teacher. Nothing much wrong with that concept, but the teacher was one of the most negative people she had ever been around, to the point of just dealing with her for any amount of time just completely drained her, physically and emotionally. And on top of that, my sister's teacher's aide doesn't get along with the woman, and they play off of each other (that means double the drama).

When her principle told her of the arrangement, she made a comment. She said she doesn't even remember what she said, but it was enough to make the principal look at her crazy and for the other teachers around at the time to snicker.

Oh how I hate for my sister to deal with that. If you have ever met my sister Kentucky, you'll quickly find out that she is the one of the kindest, nicest, most giving people ever. Very nice, wouldn't hurt a fly. Always looking for a way to be helpful to you in any way. Always. I think she is a really great individual.  She is also someone who has the perfect game face, and she could be thinking something and you would never know it. She has that much control.

But for her to groan and make a comment or whatever she did... It must mean this other teacher must be a REAL piece of work

She said she went home and prayed about it. She really didn't need to deal with that teacher for the rest of the year. I could tell it REALLY bothered her. Knowing her, I am sure she shed a few tears.

She went to school the next morning and the principal pulled her to the side and said that she'd changed her mind and wouldn't have them working together.

"Lisa," my sister said. "I just exhaled. I was so relieved."

"I know you were, honey," I said. "I know."

"God sure did answer that prayer quick."

"Yes he did," I said. "And that's a good thing."

We talk about our prayer lives a lot. I think we both want to make sure that we are praying over our situations. If there are answers, we talk about that. We get in agreement on prayer over different things. It is an important part of our lives and our faith.

She has a very keen way of dealing with a variety of personalities, whether good or bad. I, unfortunately, don't deal well with certain personalities, especially those that impose on me and wreck my spirit. As a matter of fact, I am one of the most passive aggressive people you will ever meet, and if you rub me the wrong way, I simply don't deal with you anymore. That's just me. It's not the most politically correct way to deal with things, but man... I refuse to be in mental and emotional bondage to you. Sorry in advance. But it's not going to happen, honey.

We talked about that. And I told her I'd been praying about some help in changing my attitude in the way of dealing with and understanding difficult personalities.

And I got a really interesting answer to that prayer that changed my whole outlook.  It seem to help my sister  alot.

"I never thought about it that way, Lisa," she said.

"Me neither," I replied. "But it has helped me understand people a little more."

And I want to post about that answer... in detail.

It might help you, too.

To be continued tomorrow as a Friday Food-for-thought.

(Hey! The contest still on... don't forget to enter the 7th bloggaversery sweepstakes: comment for your chance to win a $77 gift card and other fabulous prizes. See bloggaversary post for details).

Crazy Convos Part IV: Chicken in the Sky!

Good Friday Morning to YOU!

You know, I love to see people do different things. Just running in a direction away from whence the general crowd runs. It's quite refreshing!

I don't see enough of it. You will feel my disdain for such next week during a special food-for- thought week...

But anyway, when one of my favorite Chickens, who I affectionately refer to as "That Southern Black Gal", was talking about wanting to go skydiving as one of her 35 things to do before she turns 35, well I was like O_o.

I've never known anyone that jumped out of a plane. That just ain't something that everybody run to do.

Exciting. Dangerous.

So when she commence to actually doing it, my heart beat a tad bit faster...

Exciting Chicken. Dangerous Chicken.

She even posted a video of this event. I was mesmerized.





My cubicle mate CowgirlCre and I watched this video over and over again... Kinda like the crew in Menace II Society were watching that liquor store robbery video tape of when Old Dog shot the Koreans dead... and Cane was standing there like a punk drinking that Forty of OE.

O_o

And you know how we do... We are the peanut gallery...

And let the notes from the peanut gallery begin...

*LadyLee and CowgirlCre share a 10 foot cubicle... LadyLee sends video link to CowgirlCre then rolls her chair over to sit next to Cowgirl Cre so they can watch together*

0:11 minutes

LadyLee: Listen to that laugh of hers.
CowgirlCre: Yeah, she laughing.

*LadyLee and Cowgirl look at each other and do the Southern Black Gal laugh*

"Ha ha ha HAAAA!!!"

0:22 minutes

CowgirlCre: Look at her friend over there waving.
LadyLee: *mimicking Southern Black Gal's voice* "That's my friend!!!!"

*LadyLee and CowgirlCre and laugh and wave at each other*

0:42 minutes

LadyLee: That plane is moving, ain't it? I do believe that's when I'd start crying down, man! Crying! Time it start moving!
CowgirlCre: And everybody chit-chatting!

1:11 minutes

CowgirlCre: There go her friend!
LadyLee: Southern Black Gal got the finer instructor!

1:27 minutes

CowgirlCre: Look at dude. He just chit-chatting, and she just praying down, and he just talking hard.
LadyLee: All I know, they sure up kinda high. They up high!

1:55 minutes

CowgirlCre: There go her friend! Her friend is bout to jump!

1:59 minutes

CowgirlCre: Look at her, she got her hand on her chest. She praying "Oh Lawd!" Got her head all back, she trying to stay in the plane!
LadyLee: He interrupting her prayer time. Time to jump, gal! Stop praying and look at the camera, Southern Black Gal!

2:28 minutes:

LadyLee: Look at the look on her face.
CowgirlCre: And look at dude! Smiling and waving. Giving the peace sign.

*LadyLee and CowgirlCre give each other the peace sign, thumbs up, and wave at each other*

3:00 minutes:

LadyLee: *frowning at screen* Wait, did she pass out? She's not moving!
CowgirlCre: Her feet! You can see her feet! Look at her feet!
LadyLee: I think she passed out!

[I tweeted her. She said she didn't pass out. We don't believe that. Not for one moment.]

3:20 minutes:

CowgirlCre: She passed out and woke back up. She's smiling hard now! That's cuz she know the chute opened up!
LadyLee: But look! They still a long way up! Dang!

3:51 minutes:

CowgirlCre: That looks like asphalt.
LadyLee: Dude don't aim for the asphalt! Land on the grass! The dirt will do. Not the asphalt!
CowgirlCre: She sure is quiet.

4:00 minutes:

CowgirlCre: Where the heck is her helmet?
LadyLee: Naw, she don't have on a helmet. That's odd.
CowgirlCre: I wear a helmet when I ride my horse. He has a helmet on. Where is hers?
LadyLee: Yeah he has on a helmet.
CowgirlCre: Maybe it's a natural hair thing, and she don't need a helmet.

*Lee and Cre fall out laughing hard... A bit TOO hard*

CowgirlCre: She doesn't need a helmet... Her natural hair will protect her.
LadyLee: And where are her glasses? Did they fall off!
CowgirlCre: No helmet! No glasses!

*scrolling video back so we can see what happen to her glasses*

We couldn't figure that out. I tweeted her about it. She said he told her to pull them down around her neck so she could see. CowgirlCre thought it was a piece of plastic around her neck, and wondered from whence it came.

We watched this over and over and over. Our commentary was more detailed than this! Couldn't put it all! It was exciting! Made my heart beat fast!

*Lee and CowgirlCre smiling hard, flashing peace signs, thumbs and waving like the instructor*

Yes, yes... this is how us government workers spend our free time in the cubicle.

That video was waaaay exciting. Just watching the Chicken in the Sky was like being there.

Maybe not.

She said it was more than she expected. I can only imagine!

I'm just glad she stepped out and fulfilled a dream.

Amazing!

Check out her post on this experience!

This has been "Crazy Convos" week. I didn't say anything because I didn't know if I could pull it off. But I did! And it was fun.

You all have a great weekend! On purpose, man!

Crazy Convos, Part IV: The Locals!

I live in the most interesting neighborhood.

One that's undergoing gentrification. So, it's considered a pretty bad area but they are trying to spruce it up with nice houses and even nicer people.

I'm not sure it's working.

And that doesn't bother me. I like my little house. I lived downtown in a nearby hood some 16 years ago while I was in grad school, and I loved it. Always wanted to live back in the area instead of waaaay out in the burbs. This has been great, as my job is 5 miles away, and I only fill my gas tank up once every 3 weeks on average. So I'm good.

But the locals are interesting. Some crackheads. Some prostitutes. Some folks just trying to make it. And they are all interesting.

I don't turn my nose up at people. We were and are all a bad decision or two away from their condition. So I don't look down on them. I've gotten cussed by folks. I've gotten helpful advice from the same folks. They are people.

One of the most interesting is Mr. Thomas. He cuts my grass.

As you know, I bought a lawn mower back in May. Started cutting my own grass.

But this past weekend it was waaaay too hot to be out there fooling with it. So while I was driving down the street on Saturday, I saw him lumbering about with his lawn mower looking for yards to cut. I gave him a 20 dollar bill.

"Do my yard, Mr. Thomas. It's just too hot out here."

And I came back to a freshly cut yard.

I was relaxing in the house, and decided to go outside and check on him. He was next to the porch steps, making a sandwich.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to make me a sandwich, girl!"

A plastic bag of bread sat on the porch steps.




Ick. I don't like white bread. He seems to.

"What kinda sandwich you making?"

"Don't worry about it, girl!"

Hmm...

Not sure what he was eating, but he was enjoying it.



I got a little nosey. I saw that he was making a sandwich from a bowl of chicken noodle soup.



Of course I started tripping.

"Yuck! Ewwww! Mr. Thomas, how you gonna make a sandwich out of that! Yuck!!!!"
"Hush up, girl! It's good."

I continued to whine. He continued to eat.

I sat on the brick porch steps. Got a little bit more nosey.

And I saw something interesting in the sack of bread loaves.



He had the GOOD bread in there. My eyes lit up.

"Yo, you got that wheat bread. That whole wheat bread. That Sara Lee."
"Yeah," he said. "You want some of it?"

I was tempted. But I don't eat a lot of bread. Plus, I can't take food from a man barely making. I can't take anything from a man who lives in a shed behind Rat Cheese's house. (I still gotta go meet this infamous Rat Cheese. I want to know how he got that nickname.)

"Where you get it from?" I asked.
He pointed at a house across the street from me, and two doors down. "That lady over there. She get it free."

I'm looking at the house, and at him, wondering silently to myself if he stole it, or if they stole it. Everybody know I don't buy stolen stuff. People come around with watches and ceiling fans... all kinds of stuff!

Although I did buy something once that had questionable origins, some 3 or 4 years ago.From that doggone Snake.

And it still cracks me up, because I still have to hear about this from him. He's STILL hot about it. I just laugh at him.

He showed up at my house one night, ringing the doorbell hard. High as a kite!

"Who is it!" I hollered.
"Snake! Open the door, girl!"
I opened the door. I posted about this a few years ago. I will just let you read it.


That doggone SNAKE!! Snake came by my house on Saturday night wanting to sell me a big bag of cat food.



And it was that good cat food, the kind that Oscar-Tyrone eats, you know. I make it a rule not to buy anything from the locals, as it most likely belongs to someone else. This is easy when he's trying to sell off a watch, jewelry, TVs, plants and trees. I just yell "NO, SNAKE!"

But cat food?



I said no. I imagined him and his crew going somewhere and knocking off a vet shop or something, which is some complete craziness. But he said it was the wrong food for his cousin's kitten, blah, blah, blah, etc... Whatever he said, I believed him. I bought the 30 dollar bag of food for about 10 bucks in quarters.



He later told me where he got it from...

Let's just say... HE TRICKED ME!!! I'm not even going to tell you where he got it from.

Pissed me off because I broke my rule: don't buy nothing from the locals... HUMPH!!

Humph. I am requiring that he write a poem on that subject.

Oscar Tyrone, didn't seem to mind. He watched me as I drug the food back into the house.



He yawned and went back to sleep.



Ha Ha! Funny! I still laugh about that to this day, as Snake gives me the hard side-eye.

If Oscar wasn't worried about it that day, then I wasn't either. He ate well for about four months.

That was the last thing I bought from a local. And I bought it because Snake was NOT leaving my porch. I went in the house and found those quarters in my change cup.

No I didn't want Mr. Thomas' bread this weekend...

Although that Sara Lee 100% whole wheat loaf was tempting.

Now if Mr. Thomas brings by a bag of cat food... well that's another story.

LOL

Crazy Convos, Part II: Lipstick and Horsefeed

Yeah, yeah, yeah... another Tayari story.

"Why LadyLee," Blog family yells. "Why"
Because I'm a STALKER!!! I stalk Tayari.

She's found a decent way to deal with me, though.

I think I will just befriend her, she thinks to herself.

Hmm...

Somehow I got Tayari's phone number. I don't remember how. But I have her home phone number, her cell number, even her Mama and nem number. Not sure how that happen.

Anyway, she has my cell phone number too. And when the phone rings and her name comes up, for a long time, a couple years, there was a hard stare, followed by the widening of the eyes... soon followed by a gasp and and a yell of... "It's Tayari Jones calling me! My favorite author is calling me!"

I said this in the lab a few times. Other coworkers peered at me... curiously.

And for some reason, she tends to read my blog. So if she sees's something interesting, she won't leave a comment. She will just call. For example, I wrote a post about my exasperation over a fellow wanting to buy me a $500 dollar purse, and uh... what that might entail.

Tayari called me about it and figured out where I could get the purse. Interestingly I didn't really pay much attention to this 10 minute convo. I was spending my time trying to make sure I enunciate (if you know me in person, I am the most ebonically inclined Oldgirl in the world.) I was sitting at a computer trying my best to fool with a faulty program and pull data for some weird vegetable, grinning ear to ear. I hung up and whispered to a coworker "That was my favorite author. That was Tayari Jones. And we talked about pocketbooks."
Coworker peers at me... curiously... as I go into semi-hyperventilation mode.

LOL...

Fast forward some three years.

I ain't all that starstruck with her. Her master plan of befriending the stalker LadyLee has worked wondrously. Me and my sister were having a convo about stalking, and how one of her friend's stalks a chick, and how it unnerves everybody. I said how I stalk Tayari Jones.

"That don't count, Lisa," my sister said. "It isn't the same thing. Tayari is like, our cousin or something. It don't count."

LOL!!

My sister Kentucky heard a few choice words from me that day. She kept hollering "What are you talking about, Lisa? It's not the same!"

LOL

Anyway, to the point of this story.

Tayari took some new photos, some publicity shots or something like that.

She told me about them. I was sitting in the cubicle area. Me and Cowgirl Cre pulled them up.

And the comments from the peanut gallery began.

We were very interested in the following picture, the one she uses now on twitter.




*CowgirlCre and LadyLee peering at the screen curiously*

CowgirlCre: Look at the pretty dress. It's yellow!
LadyLee: And what is that pattern, some flowers? *peering closely at the screen, taps pen on computer screen* No that's some dots or something. What is that?
CowgirlCre: Can't tell. But it's pretty. And it's all sunny outside. That's a good picture.
LadyLee: Sure is. And her hair is the bomb, too.

We continue pondering the picture.

LadyLee: Cre, check out that lipstick. That looks a little like the shade I wear.
CowgirlCre: What is that?
LadyLee: That's that plum or something like that. I like it darker. But that is close. Her's looks expensive, like it won't rub off.

At this time Coworker Hen-Dog walks up.

Hen-Dog: What ch'all doing?
LadyLee: Looking at some new photos of Tayari.
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee continue discussing the dress and the lipstick*
*Hen leans down and peers at screen over my shoulder and starts making cat-call noises.
LadyLee: What is your problem?
Hen-Dog: I like what I see. whooo!
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee frown up*
LadyLee: Ain't nobody thinking about that, boy.
Hen-Dog: I'm a man! I don't care about the dress and the lipstick. I'm looking at what's in the dress!
*CowgirlCre and LadyLee look back at Hen-Dog and frown up even more*
LadyLee: BOY GO AWAY. * lee shoves Hen-Dog back away from us*

LadyLee: I wanna know where she got that lipstick from!"
CowgirlCre: It is a nice shade.

Lee dials Tayari's phone number.

LadyLee: Hey Celie, what's up!? We're looking at your new pictures. They are nice!
Tayari: Thank you, Nettie!
LadyLee: Check it out, girl. What kind of lipstick you wearing and where you get it from?

An interesting conversation about lipstick and chestnut lipliner ensued. And something about the MAC counter at the mall. I was a bit O_O because it sounded expensive.


My lipstick cost 99 cents, and I get it from the Chinese people store. Tayari's lipstick cost muuuuuuuuch more than that, and you have to add the price of the chestnut lipliner on to that.

Tayari: Just go to the mall. The MAC counter at the mall.

I have heard of MAC. My little blog sister Serenity23 seems to spend much time there.

LadyLee: Honey, I don't go to the mall.
Tayari: Well send CowgirlCre. She'll get it for you.
*LadyLee giggles HARD*

I am a tomboy. Not going near the mall. CowgirlCre is semi-tomboy with girlie tendencies from time to time. But she ain't going to the mall either. CowgirlCre trying to ride a horse, man. No mall shopping. We are Wal-mart chicks!

Convo continued, with Tayari trying to convince me of this.

It was toooo funny. (Okay, you had to be there.)

I told CowgirlCre of this. Of course she frowned up.

"Me going to the mall?" CowgirlCre uttered in disbelief. "That's like me asking her to go to buy some horsefeed!"

LOL!!! That was funny!

(okay, you had to be there. Us... imagining the girly Tayari walking out of a store with horsefeed. LOL!!!!!!!!)

I had an interesting idea. I looked over my shoulder... Hen-Dog was over in his cubicle.

LadyLee: Hen-Dog!
Hen-Dog: Yo!
LadyLee: When you go to the mall, can you get some lipstick for me?
Hen-Dog: Sure can!

LOL

Hen-Dog... He's the type of brother you can send to the store to get tampons and pads. He don't care. Just happy to help if you in need. And the next time he was at the mall, he could roll up in the MAC store and purchase some lipstick and liner.

That was all funny to us. Nope, I never got the lipstick. But it is amazing how Tayari can engage me in a convo about purses or lipstick. She is the ONLY one who can do that... It's like she's telling a wonderful story or something. She makes it interesting.

So one day, I will get my lipstick... I will go to the mall.

And maybe we can talk Tayari into stopping by the feed store and getting CowgirlCre's horse some horsefeed.

Crazy Convos, Part I: "Apricots"

I have had some interesting conversations in my lifetime.

And I've had a few with ol' Tayari.

Some have had me coming away like O_O. I've called my best friend LadyTee and I've said, "You know, Tayari is normal just like us. She got the same thangs on her mind, just like us."

"Well that's good!" LadyTee said.

"But she's Tayari Jones. That's just odd. She walks on water."

LOL

For years, I thought Tayari sat atop billowy clouds writing with her perfect pen. . . perfect words on perfect pieces of paper.

Uh, NOT.

I think we are friends now, because we can freely snap on each other... In a friendly way mind you.

Like for example, I mentioned here on the blog that Tayari has this interesting pink fur coat that she likes and she always wears the thing. I got to thinking... I've never seen her in another coat. I said that maybe I shouldn't talk about it so much because it may be the only coat she owns.

Well, I got an interesting phone call that night. "Lee, that isn't the only coat I own!!!" Then she gave me a rundown of all her coats.

LOL. I had to holla "Calm down, Man!" that day.

But one of the funniest convos came a year ago...

It was a year or so ago, a weekend morning. I can't remember if it was a Saturday or a Sunday, but for some reason, Tayari had called. I can't recall what we were talking about, but I was making out a grocery list for the Dekalb farmers's market. It was probably one of those calls where you just call to shoot the breeze about nothing. (However, I always manage to slip in some writing craft question, lol).

My sister Kentucky was standing at the sink washing dishes... I'd been walking back and forth talking on the phone.

I asked my sister if she wanted anything from the market. I continued talking to Tayari while my sister thought about it.

I asked my sister again...

"Hey girl," I said to my sister. "Come on now, tell me what you want since I'm going out there!"

"Bring back some of those cranberry muffins," Kentucky said. She rinsed a plate and placed it in the drying rack. "Not the big ones, but the little ones, the ones that are 6 to a pack."

I scribbled it down on the grocery list. "What else you want?"


"I like apricots. I want some apricots," Tayari said.

"Tayari, ain't nobody talking to you, girl!" I said, my voice raised and an octave higher than normal.

My eyes widened. I clamped my hand to my mouth.

This is Tayari Jones. I'm not suppose to talk to her like that. This is the great Tayari Jones. My writing idol. I'm not suppose to talk to her like that! I've always been sure to enunciate every word correctly in her presence. No ebonics, just my good Ph.D. english. (Ya'll who know me, know that I tend to be ebonically inclined).

Oh Lawd. Oh Lawd have mercy.

"I like apricots," Tayari said again. "The skin is smooth. Velvety soft."

"Uh, well," I said. "We don't eat those."

"I like them. They are velvety."

I didn't know what to say about that. I left it alone, and just stood there watching Kentucky wash dishes from breakfast. I continued scribbling out items on my list. Me and Tayari talked about other things, not sure what. I was still thinking about the apricots.

But let's just say, I was a bit more watchful of what I was saying to the great Tayari Jones.

Anyway I went to the Farmer's Market. Made sure to get everything on my list including Kentucky's cranberry muffins.

Then as I was walking to the cashier area, I walked back through the fruit section... and that's when I saw them.

The apricots.

And they were $1.99 pound.

I peered at them thoughtfully. Rolled on past them...

Rolled back past them.

I have to touch them, I thought to myself. I have to touch the apricots.

I rolled my cart past the apricots a couple of times more. I finally stopped there...

I looked to my left. I looked to my right. No one was looking at me.

I closed my eyes, reached my hands out... and felt the apricots.

And she was right... they were smooth as baby's skin. Velvety.

Now Tayari is a literary writer. None of that commercial writing. Literary. So if she say something, then I'm peering curiously at her, wondering, what does it mean? What is she trying to say?

Like she might say "I like that dress." I'm looking at her like, What does it mean? Is there a metaphor in that somewhere? Something deeper? A simile? What does she mean?

Hell... she might just mean she likes the dress.

LOL.

But I was standing there, rubbing my fingers over the apricots, and it occured to me, and I wanted to yell it to the whole store, but I only whispered it...

"She's gonna use this in a story. She's gonna use it in a story."

I thought she was going to use it in her book or a story or something.

I grabbed some apricots, shoved them in a plastic bag!

You know me. If Tayari put her hand in her pocket, I put my hand in my pocket, too, babes. Yes sir!

(That's what you call "indirect stalking". My stalker activity is complex like that).

I took those apricots home. Touched them a little more. I too was going to use them in a story.



I talked to her a few days later! "Hey, I bought some apricots! And you're right, the skin is smooth! Velvety!"

"I like apricots!" she said.

I was waiting to hear her talk about something deeper, like using it in something she was writing. And I was wondering how I could beg her to let me read whatever it was. (Yes, I have no shame.)

She didn't say anything.

Maybe she just likes apricots.

I ate my apricots. And wrote down the baby smooth velvety apricots thoughts. I looked for that in Silver Sparrow somewhere, but it wasn't there.

Maybe Tayari just likes apricots.

All I know, I'm going to use it in a story somewhere.

Just a funny story for you. I'm always having interesting convos...

You need to read Silver Sparrow! You won't regret it! It's full of interesting similes and metaphors! Tayari has a knack for such things!

And you can win if you comment this week. I'm giving away SIX copies. SIX!!

"But LadyLee," blog fam yells. "You said FIVE copies yesterday!"

Yes I did. Today I'm saying SIX!!!

You better enter to win, Mayne! I have SIX signed copies to give away! However many times you comment, that's how many times your name goes in the bag!

I'm not a comment whore. Just want you to have a copy of a good book.

And if you already have the book, enter for a gift card!

You all have a terrific Tuesday... On purpose!!

Tuesday Blues and Crazy Convos

I woke up this morning at 4 a.m. and felt like CRAP!

It has to be due to the 14 degree ATL temperatures. And that howling wind.

And me needing to caulk my bedrooms windows, because I was catching a draft or something.

Not to mention the ceiling fan was swirling at full speed.

So an Oldgirl woke up at 4 in the morning, and it felt like someone had taken a torch to my right sinus passage, my throat and my right ear. (Anytime I'm sick, it's always the right side. Not sure what that's about.)

And it just don't help that Aunt Flo is here. I'm like those women of the bible. I need to be in a tent on the edge of the city. Enough said.


So I called in sick today. I hesitated as usual. But I heard my doctor's voice, high and shrill, her chastising me...

"If you don't feel well, don't go to work! Please!"

This is good advice. I have over 700 hours of sick leave. So I need to use it, if I need it.

So I've been in bed all day long... sleeping on and off. I've been drinking cold water and orange juice. I feel a lot better. Not sure how I'll be tomorrow.

Maybe I need to go buy a coat, scarf and gloves.

And maybe I need to turn off the ceiling fan.

While I was laying here, my cell phone rings. It's my doctor's office.

My heart leaps for a moment when this happens. It's always about some test result. I must say, over the past 2 years it's been nothing bad. Last time it was some silliness.

"If you're taking supplements, please stop. Too much Vitamin B in your blood. And you have a slight Vitamin D deficiency."

I don't know what to do about that. I'm not taking supplements right now. And I'm not going to stop eating my vegetables and fruits. BITE ME.

And I'm not drinking milk. Any dairy I drink goes STRAIGHT to my mucus membranes. And I'm blowing snot the rest of the day. NO.

This time they called and were upset about my bill payments.

I have a balance of -$225.00. This means I have a $225 credit at my Doctor's office.

I am cool with that. Apparently the chick that does the billing isn't. She's new. She whined about it.

This happened a couple of years ago. I like to have a huge credit just in case I need a test. Trust, that $225 will get dented hard if I need a ecocardiogram, a 24 hour urine test, ultrasounds, Xrays, or a bone density test. So my remedy for that is a simple $25 dollars out of my check every 2 weeks to my Doc. I go every 6 weeks, and I don't have to worry about nothing. I can just walk in and out.

Some chick called me back then and told me stop doing my $25 dollar ritual. Result: I ended up with a $400 dollar bill somehow. I was HOT over this. And I didn't go back until I paid that amount off. (Some 10 weeks later).

But when I went back, Dr. B. and I had an interesting conversation.

"Lee, I haven't seen you in awhile."

"No you haven't," I said. I was sitting in a chair in the room (I REFUSE to get up on the exam table). "I'm here now."

We discussed some test results. My lupus was still active (as usual). We discussed a few more things.

She checked my joints for tenderness. "So, why haven't I seen you."

"Because I owe you money, Dr. B!"

She looked up at me. She's a slight indian woman, only 4'8" tall, but she has a mean stare, and will go off on me, making me all weepy. She could tell I was getting a bit excited. I could tell she was wondering what she had said to have my voice all pitchy.

"You know you can just come in and out. You get a bill, pay when you can. I just need to make sure you are alright. With this lupus, things can be okay one minute, and you fall off a cliff the next."

"But Dr. B.," I said. "I can't come in here and owing you money!"

I ran down what happen. And I was very DRAMATIC about it. I told her my method of dealing with my medical bills.

I had the shaky voice and lip quiver. Tried to produce a tear drop, but it didn't happen.

She picked up her stethascope and checked my heart. (I was having pleurisy isshas).

"You know, you can make your biweekly payments if you like. I don't have a problem with that."
"But that nurse who called me, she said I couldn't. Dr. B.! I just wanna make sure you get YOUR money!"

She put her stethascope in her pocket. "Hold on, Lee. I'll be back."

She left my room and went OFF on somebody. Man I hate to get people in trouble, but doggonit, if I got a system that works, go sit down and let me work it.

She came back, red in the face. "Lee, you be sure to do your biweekly payments. You won't have any more problems."

*lee cheesing hard like Celie*

I like my Doctor. She's a vegetarian, so I can pick her brain. There's no such thing as veggies with Vitamin D (we've been arguing about that), but overall, she's a good Doc, and has done well with keeping track of my progress and catching problems before they get too bad.

Now, there's a new chick in charge of billing... and she called me today, and we had a long convo, with the insane question of "Ma'am, I just got a check from your bank. Do you want me to destroy it?"

*lee kicking Oscar-Tyrone out of frustration*

"No. Cash that. Add it to my credit."

Looks like I'll be having another weepy talk with Dr. B. about this. Humph!

Really.

Crazy Convos:"Watched"

Oh my, what a wonderful glorious day!!

I was FORCED into taking half a day off on Thursday, and all of Friday off. Folks, I have TOO many hours, so I have to go home (Awwww. . . poor me).

When I was walking through the halls, heading for the elevator yesterday at 10:30 in the a.m., I stuck my head in the doors of several offices and labs and yelled a bit TOO loudly:

"Ya'll have a FINE FINE weekend!!!"

Folks were running behind me talking about "Where you going, LadyLee!?"

I am OFF.

This is RARE.

It feels GOOD.

So I plan to enjoy my day. I'm going to write for a couple of hours today, go to a Friday morning bible study, and go do a little bit of overdo shopping. I need a couple of summery shirts, and some general stuff for around the house. I plan on picking up some paint for the walls. I need more yarn. I ALWAYS need yarn.

Then, later today, I'm going to spend a little time in the garden.

And I know when I'm out in the garden, I am being. . . watched.

And I don't like being watched.


Now, another one of my major hangups is that I don't like being watched. Don't watch me to see what I'm going to do. I can sense this real quick, and 10 times out of 10, I don't care for it. And it's usually under the following context.

"Ladylee I think you're mad. Are you mad at me?"
"No, I'm not mad at you."


I want to add, "I got ish on my mind. Or I am upset about something else. Or I don't feel well today. Or I got a problem I am trying to work out in my head. Or, I'm not in a talkative mood. Or I just want to be quiet. You are not that important for me to be focused on you right now."

"Okay, Ladylee," they will say.

Then that person sits back and "watches" what I do. And since I don't have that special expertise of saying what you want me to say or doing what you think I should be doing (in other words, kissing your behind), then well... there's a problem.

So, I ain't folks favorite person. I'm not the flower of the group, with all the friends and such.

If you are "watching" me, you get written off REAL quick. Yep. Another one of my key idiosyncrasies. We all got em!!

Okay, back to the subject of my post:

I had another crazy convo last week. A very unusual convo.

So. . .

I was sitting at my desk at work one day last week, crunching out some data, trying to meet a deadline for some paperwork. I had my headphones on and had some good music going. It was great, nobody was bothering me, and I was just chugging along.

My cellphone vibrates.

I flip it open to see who it is. I don't recognize the number, but feel as though I've seen it before.

I usually don't answer if I don't know who's calling. But for some reason, that day, I was. . . curious.

I pressed talk.

"Hello."
"Hiya Ladylee."

"Yeah?" I don't catch the voice. I decide that they have about a minute to identify themselves or they get the dial tone.

"Ladylee, it's Stan."

Okay, I've talked about Stan in the past. Stan is my next door neighbor on the right hand side. I've written about my neighbor's before (neighbors to the left and neighbors to the right). I live smack in the middle of gay black frat boys and gay white neighbors.

Interesting. Everybody's cool. But my white neighbor Stan, and his man Paul are VERY nosy.

"Yeah, what's up Stan?" I wanted to say, "What the heck do YOU want?"
"Ladylee, there's a black car in your yard."
**deafening silence on my part**
"I don't recognize that car, LadyLee."

Okay, I'm rolling through my mind who that can be. I wanted to ask him the make of the car, but uh, I wasn't going through all that.

"I think that's Kentucky's friend," I said. I thought it was Kentucky's boyfriend, but he didn't need to know all that.
"Alright, I'm just calling to let you know. Because I just don't recognize that car. I've never seen that car before."
"Okay."

We said our goodbyes, and I clicked over and called Kentucky.

"Hello?"
"Hey girl, is Carl over there?"
"Yeah."
"Well, Stan just called and said there was a black car in the yard."
"What is he talking about. I just saw one of them out there."

Stan and Paul look EXACTLY alike, even down to the shaved heads. I've even seen them dress alike. I can tell them apart. Kentucky can't, and don't even care to.

"Which one did you see?"
"Lee, you know I can't tell them apart. I said hello, that's all."
"Look, if them jokers knock on the door, you better answer it. I don't need them calling the police and my door getting kicked in."
"But they didn't knock on the door. Me and Carl went to get something to eat, and we saw them when they were out there."
"Well, whatever."

Me and Kentucky CONSTANTLY joke about Stan and Paul. If they see either of us outside, they come outside. Now, ya'll know I am not a kindly friendly neighbor. Leave me alone. They rarely see me, but they see Kentucky all the time. And they are ALWAYS running up on her. I park my car in the garage, and they're gonna get smashed by the closing garage door if they run up on me.

But they LOVE themselves some Kentucky.

"Lee, I went outside at 3 in the morning to get something out of my car. One of them was out there, yelling 'Hey Kay'."

LOL!!

I have my own run-ins with them over the years. Anytime a strange car is in my yard, or if I have company, something is said.

"I see you got a new car, LadyLee."
"I see you had a friend over, LadyLee."

Sigh. Nothing worse than being. . .watched.

I can be standing in the driveway talking to someone. One of them will come out and get ALL up in the convo. DANG!!

But. . .

Get this. . .

Stan wasn't at home when he called me about the strange car in my yard.

Stan and Paul have cameras all around their home. And I noticed a good year ago that they have one pointed straight at my house.

So, Stan was at work or something. He apparently has computer access to said cameras at work. So he saw this car in my yard, and called me.

He has a camera trained on my house, and monitors my house while monitoring his own.

HA! You gotta love it.

I guess I should be thankful. They could be some crazy folks, robbing my house while I'm at work. Taring up stuff. Just doing crazy stuff. They are just. . . nosey.

So, with that said. . . do I really need a home security system?

Do I?

LOL!!!

Me and my hangups...

Just like many or you all out there, I, LadyLee have some crazy hangups (idiosyncracies), things that completely irk me about myself, other people, etc. Things that just bother me to no end.

Now, one of the most consistent hangups I have is that I hate calling people. I mean, I hate bothering people. I really have to gear myself up to call people. And it takes a lot to do that. If I call you up, I've probably have been thinking about it for several hours, sometimes a couple of days.

So I get in much trouble with my friends for not calling them. They usually have to call me. This is understand.

That's bad, I know. I may not call you often, but know that I'm thinking of you.

I often think of the root of any of my issues, where it all started or came from.

And it all started a LONG time ago with my best friend LadyTee.

Even though she's been my best friend for over 25 years, I do NOT call her too late at night after she's gone to bed.

But this idiosyncracy I have started with her. It is deeply rooted in something that went down between myself and LadyTee over 25 years ago...

~wavy, wavy fuzzy lines, yanking your behind back to the days of old~

I'm not sure how old we were, and what year it was. LadyTee is 2 years older than me, so I would think that I was 12 and she was 14 years-old. We'd gotten into the habit of spending the night at each other's house at least once a month on the weekends. And one thing the two of us would do was fight sleep to stay up and watch late night videos and music shows. (That's when music videos were really getting popular).

Anyway, something special was going down this one Saturday night.

Michael Jackson was gonna be on Solid Gold.

You remember Solid Gold. It was the awfully cheesy music show that use to come on on Saturday nights in the eighties, hosted by Dionne Warrick, Marylin McCoo, and other folks. You remember the Solid Gold Dancers, don't you?




Well, me and LadyTee lived for that. We loved ourselves some Solid Gold.

The bad thing was that the show came on at 11:30 pm. We had to make ourselves stay up to watch it.

That night that Michael Jackson was to be on, LadyTee's Mama dropped her off at my house to spend the night. We usually watched the shows on TV together, but not that night.

This was IMPORTANT. We loved ourselves some Michael Jackson. We were some insane MJ fans back in the day. We had all the posters, the same jheri curls (LOL!)... We were DOWN for some Michael. (LadyTee later had her son ON Michael Jackson's birthday. If that ain't a fan, I don't know what is).

But LadyTee was sleepy. I was fighting sleep, too. Around 10:oo p.m., LadyTee said.

"Lee, I'ma lay down and take a nap. Wake me up when the show comes on."

"Okay," I said.

"I'm for real, girl, you betta wake me up."

"I'll wake you up. I ain't all that sleepy."

"Alright, now," she said. She was still mumbling how I better wake her up as she got under the covers and finally went to sleep. I remember sitting on the bed next to her, indian style, watching the boring news and trying to stay awake. I remember peering at her curiously. LadyTee sleeps with her eyes half open, and it had always creeped me out.

Finally, the time had come. Solid gold was on. The Solid dancers had come sprinting out onto the stage.

I nudged her with my hand. Then I grabbed her shoulder and shook her hard.

"Tee, wake up, the show is on!"

LadyTee sat up and cussed me out. All I rememeber is:

"You mutha*****, I can't believe you woke me up. Blah, blah,blah, bleep, bleep, bleep."

Man... she went on and on. I just started crying. Right there as she unloaded a string of cuss words on me, calling me every name in the book. She was SO mad at me. I thought you was gonna hit me or something.

She turned over and went back to sleep.

I was distraught. TRAUMITIZED. I think I just turned the television off and went to bed too. I was just too upset to watch Michael Jackson.

The next morning, we sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. She acted like nothing happened.

I was still upset. "Why you cuss me out, Tee?" I asked. "You told me to wake you up! Why you go off on me?"

"Lee, I was sleep. Don't mess with me when I'm sleep."

I was still upset. She laughed it off.

And we still discuss this, all these years later. She laughs real hard about it. I give her the hard eye squint, and tell her how wrong she was.

"I'm sorry, Lee! Calm down!"

Funny how we still discuss crazy stuff like that.

And to this day, I don't like waking people up. And that has extrapolated into calling people late at night. I feel HORRIBLE if I call you, and you were asleep. Just HORRIBLE.

Now, LadyTee knows if I call late at night, it is important. I have called crying in the middle of the night over my heart being broken, things like that. She knows if I call late in the midnight hour something is VERY wrong. But otherwise, I have that 10:00 rule.

Don't call peeps past 10 at night. I don't care if you tell me to, I ain't calling.

But I tell you...

That don't keep LadyTee from calling ME up REAL late. I'm talking midnight. Waaay past midnight. I am NOT a night owl, and I'm usually knocked out by 11 o'clock.

But LadyTee loves calling me, as late as possible...

And it is about the most strangest things.

I've had some crazy convos lately. . . one of which was with her, at damn near one o'clock in the morning. . .

To be continued.