The anTONIa Chronicles

my favorite things ii

2012-01-25T18:25:00.000-05:00

Several years ago for the July 29, 2009 Writing Wednesday I posted a few of my favorite things. If Oprah can do it, so can I. Unfortunately, I’m not at the point in my life where I can give my favorite things out to everyone. Stay tuned. It will happen one day. Until then, here’s a list of what I’m digging right now.

Leonid McGill series by Walter Mosley. I thought nothing could compare to the Easy Rawlins series which features “Devil in a Blue Dress” and 10 other books. Then I read “The Long Fall.” There are a total of four books in this series so far, and I plan on reading each one. I still love me some Easy Rawlins, but I hear Mosley is done with the series. That’s fine with me. I’m team Leonid now.

Satin pillowcase. My daddy bought a satin pillowcase for my birthday (via a gift card he gave me). I love, love, love sleeping on it. I have a satin scarf and bonnet, but if I don’t wear them or they come off at night, I wake up looking a hot mess. The satin pillow case helps keep my hair from drying out and preserves my hair styles from frizzies.

All My Jams Station on iHeartRadio. I used to listen to The Beat but I got tired of all the Rap and Hip Hop. One day I saw this station and enjoyed the musical journey. It plays today’s R&B, such as Beyonce’s “Party,” and the best Old School, such as “Slow Jam” by Midnight Star. I’m an old soul at heart.

Grimm and Once Upon a Time. The fantasy world has taken over my TV watching. Normally I’m not into dramas and watch only sitcoms, but these shows have me hooked. I’ve always loved fairy tales and both shows bring them to life.

Inuyasha. Anime is life. I want to go to Japan because of this show. It may be a cartoon, but it hits on some heavy topics, such as family ties, past loves and rivalries.

Dresses. There used to be a time you wouldn’t catch me in a dress. Then my friends Ceetastic and Miz Barnes picked out a few that showed off my curves. Now I am in love. Dresses just feel so much better than pants. I’ve been missing out all these years.

The Message Bible. I’m currently working on reading thought the Bible in a year. I’ve read the King James and New King James versions but wanted to try something new. The Message is the truth. It makes scriptures come alive and breaks down the verses better for today's understanding.

Ozzy. He is NOT my cat and belongs to the awesome Katie, my roommate. Yet we bonded. We have discussions, watch Inuyasha together and cuddle on my satin pillowcase. I didn't consider myself a cat lover until meeting Ozzy.

Loofah pad. My skin is starting to feel a lot smoother since I started using one on my face. I need to get a big one for the rest of my body.

Barefruit Company Touched by HEM hair butter and daily moisturizing spray. Ma Dukes bought me this duo for Christmas. Both smell like sunshine and happiness mixed with a couple of sprinkles and joy. It’s all-natural with no harmful ingredients.

Old t-shirts. These days I use old t-shirts to dry my hair instead of towels. I read it was much better for your hair, and honestly I can see a difference. It also helps avoid frizzies and preserves my curls.

What are some of your favorite things?

52 weeks of Memories: Weeks 1.2., 2.2. and 3.2

2012-01-25T14:36:00.002-05:00

I haven’t written about my memories in a few weeks, but that doesn’t mean they were non-existent. The start of January means my dry run on this challenge is over. Now it’s time to really play the game and make some memories.

It was all about experiencing a new restaurant Week 1.2. My play cousin suggested the LCR lunch crew and I have lunch at this fairly new restaurant called Ray’s. They had corn nuggets. Sweet. Delicious. Corn nuggets. I was instantly a fan. Ray’s kind of reminds us of our former favorite lunch spot McAlister’s. Sadly the local store closed. Ray’s however is a nice substitute. I was getting tired of Moe’s and Yum’s, our other two regular spots. We ate lunch at Ray’s on a Wednesday and again on Friday. I plan on taking my shero, the chief of police, to lunch sometime soon. I’m suggesting we go to Ray’s.

The perks of having a new job is getting to experience new professional development opportunities. For Week 2.2 I went to the leadership conference for my organization in Tallahassee. It was great getting to meet other program staffers and learning about their daily trials and tribulations. I also had the opportunity to visit the Capitol and talk to several legislators. One of them I used to interview all the time for the paper. One of my good friends also lives in Tally and came to visit. I had my own spacious hotel room. The trip would have been perfect if it weren’t for the fact I was in intense pain!

This brings me to Week 3.2. Unfortunately I got an abscess on my upper butt, probably from sleeping on the floor and cleaning my parents’ garage during Christmas break. I went to the doctor the Friday of Week 2.2, and she gave me a shot in the hip. I was put on bed rest because sitting was out of the question and had to take an antibiotic. By Sunday the abscess had greatly improved and it popped on its own that evening (yay for removal showerheads). Monday I got another shot and remained home until Thursday. The healing process is going to take a while because of the location. At least she didn’t have to lance it open. I watched YouTube videos of the process and it looked extremely painful.

the apple remedy

2012-01-14T19:12:00.000-05:00

Apples are the best remedy.

We’ve all heard the old saying “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” It wasn’t until recently I learned how true it is. A pain in the behind medical condition, literally and figuratively, forced me to see the doctor last week. I was told to come to the appointment fasting because blood work might be required. Bright and early Friday I made my way to the doctor who checked my symptoms and made a diagnosis. Unfortunately I also got a shot in my hip. Thankfully I was given an oral prescription for the rest of the antibiotic (at least until Monday when I have to get another shot).

I dropped off my prescription at Walmart, and because it hurt extremely bad to walk or sit I went to lie in my car until it was ready. An hour later I got up and was in the middle of the street heading to the store when a myriad of symptoms hit me. It was freezing outside, but I was drenched in sweat. My head was aching and vision was blurry. I felt like I wanted to vomit and pass out. I leaned against some carts and contemplated trying to reach my car, but it seemed so far away. Then I stumbled over to the side of the building, still feeling as if the Death Angel was hovering over me.
By this point I was praying, singing hymns and quoting scriptures. I was calling on Jesus like nobody’s business. My first thought was to get into the store and grab a small bottle of orange juice to drink and bring my sugar levels back up. Unfortunately the drink aisle is at the end of the store. I would never make it without passing out. That’s all I needed, to pass out in the middle of a crowded Walmart and end up at the hospital. It would be front page news. Lake City is a small town, and Heaven forbid it’s a slow news day. I was determined to NOT be the headlines on Saturday.
I somehow stumbled into the store and grabbed a cart to lean on for support. That’s when I saw the produce section and thought, “Lord if I could just touch the bottom of the apple crate, I know I’ll be made whole.” I pressed my way to the apples with sweat coming down my face and prayers going up to the Lord. I got a bag of Granny Smith apples and with trembling hands opened it up and took one out. Normally I don’t condone this kind of behavior but it was an emergency. I grabbed a tissue from my purse, wiped the apple off and took a discrete little bite. Instantly I felt the sweat drying up. I could see a little better and didn’t feel so dizzy. I started taking bigger bites of the apple and felt so much better after it was gone. That apple gave me enough of a boost to make it to the McDonalds in the back of the store.
I didn’t get my prescription at Walmart (they were out), but there are two bags of apples sitting in my refrigerator right now (yes, I bought the one I ate out of). I think I got sick because I took medicine on an empty stomach, although this particular prescription actually requires you take it one hour before eating or two or three hours after. Instead of just eating one apple a day, I’m going for two. You never know when you might need to combat a potential doctor’s visit.
*Side note: I had Walmart transfer the prescription to CVS since they were out until Monday. Do you know CVS didn’t have it either? Le sigh! But my fabulous rommie, Katie, did pick up the three-day supply CVS had available. And I have ibuprofen which works wonders.

The ultimate blocker

2012-01-04T18:57:00.000-05:00

Blocker– block·er, noun, /ˈbläkər/ blockers, plural

Dictionary.com definition: A person or thing that blocks, in particular.
Urbandictionary.com definition: The person who blocks the progress of any “play” when a man is trying to talk to and flirt with a woman.

For years I have unjustly declared my father the ultimate blocker. Everyone wants to date the son of a preacher man, but such is not the case for the daughter. Numerous guys, real or imagined, were too afraid to pursue me because my father is a pastor (or maybe because they didn’t even know I was interested). Well there’s a new ultimate blocker in town and her name is MOMMY!

I cleaned my parents’ garage recently and had a plethora of items to drop-off at the Salvation Army. I warned the Salvation Army man there was a ton of heavy stuff on my first trip. Ma Dukes later joined me with the rest of the items. The Salvation Army man came to help us unload and said my last box had some of the heaviest stuff he ever had to carry. I smiled and said, “I warned you, but this load is much lighter.”

With all our items finally loaded, Ma Dukes and I prepared to head back to our cars. Suddenly I heard the Salvation Army man call me over. I thought I left something behind and went to see. Ma Dukes was cranked up and about to drive off but stopped during the following exchange:

“Where your old man at?” he asked.

I know this man was not trying to talk to me with my mother present.

“Sir, why can’t you just ask me if I have a boyfriend?” I replied. “And besides I’m not old enough to have an old man. A young one perhaps. And where is your old lady?”
He pointed to the sky.

“In Heaven, with Jesus?” I said dumfounded. “Well now I just feel depressed.”

And with that, I walked away. Thus ended my fleeting moment of male appreciation before the New Year. Granted the man was not someone I would have even entertained, but I couldn’t let him get his flirt on with my mama watching like a hawk in the sky. Who knows when she would have hopped out?

She claims the guy was mad the moment he saw her pull up and knew he wanted to talk to me. Apparently I needed saving. Her stances are “A momma is a momma all the days of her life and yours no matter how old you get!” and “When the lioness feels like her pack is being threatened, she can and will attack, provoked or not, call it blocking if you like.”
This little lion cub was not being threatened especially in broad daylight with a crowd of people around. At any rate the Salvation Army man wouldn’t have lasted too much longer even if she was absence. I can’t be bothered sometimes and know how to get rid of “threats.” After all Ma Dukes taught me. But I guess there is just no stopping a blocker, especially if it’s your mama. At least she hasn’t blocked anyone I actually liked – yet. Here’s hoping my little brother isn’t a blocker too.

52 weeks of memories: week 8

2012-01-02T13:22:00.002-05:00

I concluded my dry run of 52 weeks of memories with a New Year’s Eve party/bday celebration at la casa in Lake City. The evening began with dinner at Red Lobsters, granted about an hour later than planned. I left my parents’ house about three hours behind schedule. We love some cheddar bay biscuits in my crew. We laughed and joked and got to know one another. Oh yeah and we ate a lot of seafood.
We continued the night’s festivities by hosting the second annual karaoke contest. Everyone got several favors (tiaras for girls and hats for guys, blow horns, leis, confetti poppers and this other thingy). Did I mention there were decorations? The decoration team, myself, the boo and his bff got the house in the festive mood. Stars, balloons, streamers and hanging objects all in red were the decorations of choice. But I digress.

We sung karaoke revolution glee vol 1. It was fantastic! I first experienced glee karaoke with the fantastic cee on one of my many visits to her neck of the woods. My roomie got it for Christmas and we tested it out. In the midst of singing was confetti being popped all over the place. It looked like New Year’s well before 12 a.m. hit. Each of the participants received little gold trophies in categories such as best dance performance, party starter or best impromptu performance.

Just before the clock struck 12 I made a toast (I’m on a 24 hour champagne diet) and then we let the few confetti poppers burst and shot fireworks outside.

Best New Year’s party ever!

what i've learned

2011-12-28T14:00:00.000-05:00

In just two days I will be celebrating another birthday. Yay for me! Thirty is right around the corner, but I still have a couple of years before reaching that milestone. Esquire Magazine features interviews with celebrities about what they’ve learned. In similar fashion I present to you, in no particular order, the 27 things I’ve learned since being born.

1. Forgiveness is easy. It’s the forgetting part that’s hard.

2. Blood isn’t always thicker than water. Sometimes people with no blood ties treat you better than your kin.

3. On the same hand, you might not have chosen your family but they are a gift from God, no matter how dysfunctional.

4. Take joy in just the little things, such as eating a honey suckle, smelling a fresh rain brewing or dancing in your room alone.

5. The faith of your parents can’t sustain you. You must have your own relationship with God.

6. The secret to weight loss is not just dieting. You must make a lifestyle change by incorporating modified eating and exercise.

7. Smiling at someone doesn’t take much effort. Smiling makes you and someone else feel good.

8. A good wholesome laugh can go a long way in brightening your day.

9. You’re never too old to get on a swing set and recapture a glimpse of your youth. Just don’t act 5 forever.

10. No matter how old you are, the first person you want to call when sick is always your mother.

11. The saying is true: people come into your life for a reason, season or lifetime. The problem comes when you give seasonal people lifetime expectations.

12. After a certain age you should grow out of wanting to party all night, drink all night or engage in teenage drama.

13. What you know and who you know is a powerful combination.

14. Comparing yourself to others is pointless. You’re where you need to be in your life as ordained by God.

15. It’s not how you get in but what you do when you get there.

16. Don’t wait on someone to upgrade you. Upgrade yourself.

17. Gift giving is more fun than gift receiving. Seeing the joy others get from a gift can bring you much joy.

18. It’s never too late to find out what you want to be when you grow up.

19. Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither were you. Changing your tragic character flaws will take some time.

20. The golden rule still applies: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

21. Nothing really is new under the sun. History has a habit of repeating itself.

22. It’s too late to tell someone how much you care after they’re gone. Show you love them while they’re still here.

23. I can have the best time doing absolutely nothing while just hanging with my close friends and family.

24. Sometimes the best therapy session is just writing your thoughts in a journal.

25. You have to take people at face value. Overanalyzing every sentence, situation or statement will just give you a headache.

26. Actions really do speak louder than words. Make sure your actions are saying good things.

27. Live well. Laugh often. Love always.

.

52 Weeks of Memories: Week 6 & 7

2011-12-23T20:46:00.002-05:00

It’s been a very memorable week 6 and 7 on my quest to 52 memories. Because I’m sick and dying (the death angel is after December folks) this will be a brief post.

Week 6 I volunteered at Dignity U Wear in Jacksonville on Saturday. The organization sends out clothing donations to the less fortunate through groups across the nation. Volunteers help sort inventory for the organization. While there I met a new friend. In my opinion it’s much harder to make new friends, especially if you’re a female, after college. And not everyone really knows how to take me. I’m so fully of energy, but I can be a little off-putting with my overly bubbliness. All that is a post for another day. Nonetheless, I connected with this other girl while volunteering. She’s new to Jacksonville and only been here about four months. I was wondering if we would exchange numbers, and we did. Hopefully we get to hang before I leave.

Week 7 I went to a birthday celebration for my good friend Cat on Wednesday. My brother joined me for the dinner at this swanky restaurant. It took us forever to get there, mainly because I was lost and don’t listen to directions. Too many words confuse me and then I start tuning you out. Eventually my natural navigation system took over. Score one for me. Dinner was great. We laughed and joked with her family and boyfriend. Then part 2 of the night was karaoke. I absolutely love karaoke. I only officially sung one song (This is how we do it), but I was in the background for the majority of them. While leaving this girl stopped me to rave about how great my hair was. She’s natural too but says her hair is at the awkward stage where it’s longer than a teeny weeny afro but too short to do anything with. I remember those days. I survived by just keeping it twisted. We exchanged numbers too. Hopefully I made another friend.

The downside about the last few days is my lingering sickness from about two weeks ago caught up with me. Thursday I woke up with hardly a voice. Friday I woke up with none. It looks like I’m going to be sick for Christmas. Sad face.

Sounds of the Season: Part II

2011-12-14T20:17:00.001-05:00

I love hearing Christmas hymns at church. You can never sing them enough in my opinion. The annual Christmas program usually features quite a few. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without some great hymns and gospel songs. Here are my favorites.

The Little Drummer Boy. Sometimes you want to say parumpapumpum. I performed a piano solo of this song during my elementary school’s Christmas program one year.

Angels We Have Heard on High. Gloooooooooooooooorious! That just makes this song grand for me. I get extra loud on that part.

Away in a Manger. This song makes me think of Sweet Baby Jesus lying in his manger sleeping while the sheep softly baa in the background.

The First Noël. I have a confession. The only words I know in this song are “Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel.” I just keep repeating it.

Go Tell It on the Mountain. This song makes me think of a Christmas episode from the sitcom “Amen.” You have to throw in a soul clap when you sing it.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. This upbeat tune makes me want to spread Christmas cheer.

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. Don’t you just love how they sing this at the end of “A Charlie Brown Christmas?” It makes me feel so joyful, which Christmas is all about.

Joy to the World. This is another song that makes me feel extra cheerful during Christmas.

Who Would Imagine a King? I love “The Preacher’s Wife” with Whitney Houston and Denzel Washington. This is my favorite song from the movie.

O Come All Ye Faithful. This is such a nice song. The youth choir at my dad’s church sings a variation of this song during the year.

O Holy Night. This is perhaps my favorite Christmas hymn. I’m a fan of the Mariah Carey version, but any good singer will get me to tear up.

We Three Kings of Orient Are. After watching a Claymation Christmas special that featured this song, I fell in love with it. Specifically the oooooooohhhhh part.

Silent Night. When the Temptations sing Silent Night all is right with the world. When Mr. Brown of Madea fame sings Silent Night you just want to laugh. This is my second favorite Christmas hymn.

What Child Is This? Instead of a Christmas speech, I performed this on the piano at church one year. It has such a sweet melody.

Do You Hear What I Hear? Back when Whitney Houston could sing she killed this song. I absolutely love it.

Which Christmas hymns or gospel songs make your favorites list?

52 weeks of memories: Week 5

2011-12-13T16:50:00.001-05:00

Let it snow! At least artificially. Each year Lake City hosts an annual event called Snow Day. It features 30 tons of artificial snow so children can experience the cold sensation. There are snow slides, snow piles, bounce houses, food, entertainment, pictures with Santa and more. In the past I’ve had to cover Snow Day for the paper. I got to actually participate in this year’s event on Saturday. My roommate’s church was in charge of volunteers, and I joined in the fun.

For a couple of hours I worked at one of the bounce slides making sure the children didn’t kill themselves. Aside from the fact the inside of the slide smelled like dog poo and I had to climb to the top, it wasn’t too bad of a job. I got to sit in a corner at the top of the contraption and watch the children slide down. A few asked my name or other random questions, but mainly they smiled, ignored me or asked if they could slide yet. Later a helper took over my spot and I relieved another volunteer of count off duties. Only so many can climb up at a time, but if you don’t regulate them, they will try to get on 50 deep. That’s an accident waiting to happen. Most of them don’t like to listen when you say wait. One annoying child kept asking, “Can I go now?” I am proud to say I didn’t snap and merely ignored him.

Toward the end of the event I watched one of the snow piles to make sure no one injured themselves. By 3 p.m. it was more like a pile of slush, but the children loved it. Snow Day came to an end at 4 p.m. but the fun continued. My roommate, some friends and I went to grab a bite to eat before the annual Christmas parade. This was my first year seeing it. I went to the Hartwell Christmas Parade every year (due to work) but somehow lucked out of covering the one in Lake City. It was a nice parade. I got these super cool 3D glasses that turned lights into snowflakes. The only downside was only a few floats actually followed the theme, “Christmas on the Ichetucknee.” Next year I’m entering and float and going to follow the theme and win top honors. Think of the memories that will bring.

Avoid the Holiday Hustle

2011-12-07T18:30:00.000-05:00

It will be 10 times worse Christmas Eve.

Being sick is a constant state of being for me. Usually I have some of everything to treat my latest ailment. Such was not the case Monday, and I found myself at Walmart putting together a get-better kit. There were so many people in the store holiday shopping, I thought I would never leave. You could barely move from aisle to aisle, and lines were endless. I only had a few items and waited a good 30 minutes. The whole process made my head hurt. Then it started to hurt even more when I realized I hadn’t even started my Christmas shopping yet. In a few days, I too will be in the mix of the holiday hustle. Just imagine how worse it will be. The mad dash to get those last few Christmas gifts will create utter chaos. I was inspired by the scene and my last minute gift buying to write a new book, “For Christmas shoppers who’ve considered homicide when the super store isn’t enough!” Using the book as a guide you can learn how to miss all the holiday madness. Here’s a sneak peak at some of the chapters:

Chapter 1: Christmas is coming (a little late)
Avoid the whole holiday hustle and bustle by purchasing gifts for everyone after Dec. 25. They’re probably a little cheaper any way. Set a random day in January to celebrate Christmas. It’s probably colder anyway if you live in Florida.

Chapter 2: I can hardly wait ‘til Christmas
Forget Dec. 25. Why not celebrate Christmas in July? Put the tree up, decorate the house and even host a party. There won’t be any rush while you’re shopping for gifts. Focus on family togetherness during the actual Christmas Day.
Chapter 3: The gift that keeps on giving
Instead of buying gifts this year, donate the money you would have normally spent to a local charity in each person’s name. No lines, no worries, no problem.

Chapter 4: I’ve got a secret, Santa
Host ONE big Secret Santa exchange/ or White Elephant party with your family and friends. Buy only ONE gift during Christmas.

Chapter 5: The early elf catches the worm
Buy gifts throughout the year and complete the shopping list by Thanksgiving. Don’t let December catch you without any gifts purchased (yes, like me).

Chapter 6: Christmas made by hand
Make a handmade gift to give everyone. Something from the heart and the hand is always special. My creations have included vases, decorative pot holders and key chains. No, this is not just for children under 12.

Chapter 7: A card for Christmas
Gift cards. You either hate them or love them. Some people think they’re impersonal. I say, if you get them for a specific store you know the recipient loves then it’s thoughtful. And everyone loves Walmart.
Chapter 8: Santa went straight to cyber space
Why shop in person when you can go online? The world is at your fingertips. Just don’t order a gift Christmas Eve or else you’ll be stuck like Chuck.
Following these tips might help you avoid all those deranged shoppers. Just don’t avoid the true meaning of Christmas and get lost in the commercialization of the holiday. Make sure to spread some holiday cheer if you run with the masses during these last few weeks of shopping.

52 Weeks of Memories: Week 4

2011-12-05T16:18:00.003-05:00

Singing competitions are always memorable to me. Unfortunately they bring out my inner Simon Cowell. I always loved Simon on American Idol. Sure he was harsh with his comments, but most times Simon was on point. He was honest with his criticism. I wish he went to Columbia’s Top Talent Friday night. He would have flipped the table and walked away.
I joined my roommate and her pastor’s two daughters for the evening as we got to see the top talent at Columbia High School. I believe the children are the future, but it’s not looking bright if most of them want to be singers. I already told my roommate I was going to boo any bad singers. And boo I did via text message to her. I may be crazy, but I’m not THAT crazy. I’m not booing those children out loud so their families can jump me.

The night was dominated by more than 20 off-key singers, with little stage presence, forgotten lyrics and Adele songs minus the pain. If you don’t have that pain, then don’t sing Adele is all I ask. The show also featured a fashion show and step demonstration. Most of those clothes on the models were inappropriate in a major way. It was a pedophile's dream come true. Plus the majority of the models just didn’t know how to do the Naomi Campbell walk. The step team was the best part of the night and they were only about five minutes long. They could have cut the fashion show and some of the singers to make more time for the step team. A guest band performing, Moonlit Dove, should have competed. They performed an original song and were stellar!

Ultimately I was not happy with the final results once they announced the top 11 (there was a tie for 10th place). Malcolm X’s words came to mind: “You've been had. You've been took. You've been hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray, run amok.” My issue was at least four of the finalist were just plain wrong. If you can’t hold even sing in key or remember the words to your song, how are you a finalist? There were others who weren’t great but still a lot better than some of the winners. Next year they need to make me a judge. I’ll give them the true top 10 picks based on real talent. Somebody needs to be Simon and I will gladly play the part.

NaBloPoMo - The End

2011-11-30T09:49:00.002-05:00

I can’t believe it’s over. Surprisingly participating in the official National Blog Posting Month was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Perhaps it’s because I have a brand spanking new job which allows me to get off work at a decent hour. Or I could chalk it up to the fact I participated in a dry run during March and knew what to expect. Whatever the reason, I am glad I successfully posted every day.

Ideas were one thing I never lacked during this challenge. I made a list of potential post ideas. I think I followed two – the intro post Nov. 1 and now this one. Too much happens in life to just plan what to write about. I try to go with the flow when inspiration hits.

Several of the posts were my favorites including, Bye, Bye Birdie, What’s Your Species and Treat Yourself. I do so love how I started writing about my post-new year’s theme adventures each week. My good friend Danity Kane was the inspiration for Protocol Confusion. And I think Ties that bind was probably one of the deepest things I’ve ever wrote. Good thing I only have about four regular readers or my reputation of being bubbly and light would be ruined.

The week of Thanksgiving was my e. e. cummings period. I just wrote without concern to punctuation, grammar or capitalization. It was a busy week and posting something was better than nothing. Maybe I’ll go back and ghost edit. Then again, maybe not.

Now that NaBloPoMo is done, I will definitely resume Writing Wednesday exclusively. However, I plan on writing another day as well. I won’t pin down an exact date yet. Think of it as a happy surprise. Hopefully this little exercise improved my writing somewhat. I have to keep my writing skills sharp since I don’t work at a newspaper anymore. The freelancing won’t be happening for a few more months. I need to focus on doing my new job the best way possible.

I’m done with NaBloPoMo challenges, at least for this year. I might participate in another challenge during May. On to the next big challenge – just enjoying life.

Sounds of the season part I

2011-11-29T19:36:00.001-05:00

Even snowmen sing Christmas songs.

Now that Thanksgiving is over, let the Christmas music begin. My second favorite holiday of the year is Christmas. There are so many fabulous songs which call to my soul. All I want to do is sing. Here are some of my favorite songs of the holidays.

Twelve Days of Christmas – Every year in my elementary school chorus we sung this song. I always wanted to sing the nine ladies dancing part.

Jingle Bells – I’ve never rode in a one horse open sleigh but this song makes it sound so much fun.

Deck the Halls – This song is a favorite because of the fa la la la la la la la part.

Up on the House Top – Ho Ho Ho who wouldn’t love this song?

We Wish You a Merry Christmas – I think of this as the quintessential Christmas song. And it gives a shout out to New Year’s

Silver Bells – Whether you live in a city or small town, this song lets you know it’s Christmas.

Sleigh Ride – I so want to go on a sleigh ride with some handsome chap. I blame this song.

Feliz Navidad – Me gusta this song. It’s muy caliente.

Jingle Bell Rock – Once in elementary school a group of students, yours truly included, danced a jig to this song. I’ve loved it ever since.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer – This was another song we always performed in chorus.

The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire) - I love the Nat King Cole version. This is my favorite Christmas song of all time.

Santa Claus Is Coming to Town - When little Michael Jackson sings this song I feel as if Santa Claus will appear at any moment.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus– I also love this song because of MJ. No one believed him when he said he saw Mommy kissing Santa.

This Christmas – The soulful voice of Donnie Hathaway makes this my second favorite Christmas song of all times.

All I Want for Christmas Is You – Mariah Carey doesn’t want a lot for Christmas. And neither do I, except to hear this song.

The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late) - Alvin and the Chipmunks make this song so amazing.

a random call

2011-11-28T22:54:00.000-05:00

sometimes i sleep with my phone right next to me. it's probably not the smartest thing to do since I move around in my sleep. i never really thought it was a problem until last night. somehow while sleeping i removed the keypad lock and the phone called one of my homegirls.

typically when i randomly dial someone unware its either my brother or play sister. needless to say it honed in on someone else. she texted me a few minutes later thinking something was the matter but i assured her it was a mistake. then she called but since i was mid text i didn't answer. wrong mistake to make with this friend.

she watches all those true crime and murder shows and is slightly paranoid. let her call and you don't answer. she will think someone has kidnapped you. i saw it firsthand when her boyfriend didn't answer new year's day one year. she thought he had been hurt and said we only had a window of 48 hours to find the killer. so in my half sleep state i called her back and successfully convinced her i wasn't held hostage. then back to bed for two more quality sleeping hours i went.

honestly when i woke up this morning i thought it was all a dream. it wasn't until around lunch time while checking my missed calls i saw i had one from her at 4 something in the morning. then i checked my text messages which confirmed we indeed texted about a random late night phone call.

the moral of this story is very simple. don't sleep with your phone, especially if you have a paranoid friend like mine.

52 Weeks of Memories: Week 3

2011-11-27T22:33:00.002-05:00

this week my memorable event was going to the movies with my little cousins. i have a plethora of little cousins in my family, but only one really likes me. honestly, she's the only one i like anyway. that's not to say she's a perfect little angel. but i can tolerate her much, much more than the rest. she is too grown for her own good, but she has consistenly liked me, and only me, since she was a baby. that counts for a lot in my book.

most of my little cousins aren't too used to me. i was either away in college when they were born or we just don't mesh. well it's their loss. now i only have to worry about spoiling one. when the princess and the frog came out i wanted to see it with someone. what better person to bring than a child? so i called her mom asking if we could hang and since then, every year we've gone to see a movie around the holidays.

she is the oldest of three children and her little brother asked why i didn't ever take him any where. i felt bad for a minute until i remembered he doesn't know how to act. he ended up telling my little brother they should hang like his sister and me. my brother was down for the casue, so we played a double cousin hang out day friday. we went to see arthur christmas in 3-d. it was the perfect movie to get me in the christmas mood. now that thanksgiving is over, i can focus on christmas, my birthday and new years.

the movie made me laugh, apparently more so than the rest of the people in the audience. it even sparked a few tears. ok so i'm overly emotional. i hadn't really heard about it before my cousin mentioned the movie, but i'm glad we went to see it. our orignal pick was the muppets, but i am more than happy to wait until it comes out at redbox. happy feet 2 was a close second.

after the movie my little cousin and i chilled at my parents' house while our brothers went to the barber shop. we watched tv, ate left overs and just enjoyed quality cousin time. normally our outings are around christmas but with the reduced work schedule from my new job we will probably be squeezing in a lot more cousin hang out days. i can't wait.

a house divided

2011-11-26T20:44:00.002-05:00

Go GATORS!

i am a university of florida gator. my parents and brother are not. they rep the florida state university seminoles. did i mention there is a bitter rivalry between the schools? neither of my parents went to fsu; yet they rep the noles like an alumni. my parents always liked former fsu coach bobby bowden. said he was a humble coach they despised former uf coach steve spurrier. it was only natural they become noles. as a result my brother and i were noles fans. fsu was one one of my college choices until i learned they didn't have a journalism program. florida has the best in the state. so off to gatorland i went.

florida provided the best four years of my life. i loved the school. it gave me a solid education, connected me with friends for life and filled me with so many memories. and we won two national championships, one in football and basketball, while i was there. our teams were hot like fire. not so much this year.

this has been a rough year for the gators. we're in a rebuilding year for the football team. the coach last year, the urban legend, jumped ship. we got a new coach. we have a crappy qb. it's always great to be a florida gator, but our fb team is standing in the need of prayer.

today is the annual rivalry between uf and fsu. things aren't going so well so far. it's already half time and we're down by 14 points. the world's worse qb, john brantley, threw three, not one or two, but three interceptions in just the first half. clearly i need to suit up and play qb. there has been a lot of screaming during the game thus far. my daddy thinks they can hear him for some reason. one day he'll learn. if i must keep it real i will admit we probably won't come back and win this game. it just ain't our year in 2011. next year. but win or lose i am always a gator. through all types of weather we'll all stick together for f-l-o-r-i-d-a!

fatted calf

2011-11-25T23:36:00.001-05:00

just stick a fork in me because i am done. i. feel. stuffed. not full, but miserably stuff. this is why i must starve myself until thanksgiving. sure there are other holidays throughout the year that feature a massive feast, but none are quite like thanksgiving.

every year the same thing happens. i eat until i can't eat any more. then i end up feeling miserable. must as i am right now. no matter what i just can't stop. all thah food in front of me is just too much temptation.
i think the problem is we always have too many food choices. i only get a little of this and that. however, eventually that adds up to a lot of this and that. one could argue that i shouldn't be hoggish. i should just use a smaller plate instead of a larger one. yeah right. that doesn't stop me from piling food.
in my mind thanksgiving means you must eat while the eating is good. i promise to do better on christmas. for the next few days i shall remain overly stuffed with thanksgiving goodies.

the hostess

2011-11-24T23:26:00.001-05:00

she's a hostess with the mostess

tired can not even describe how i feel right now. i have been up since 5 a.m.in preparation for thanksgiving. it is now nearly midnight.

my parents thought they were the ones hosting this year's small gathering. puhleeze. i am the hostess with the mostess which means everything just had to be done in a particular fashion. guests must be entertained every minute of their time here. there has to be a variety of appetizers. food has to be cooked to perfection. the list could go on and on with my demands when hosting.

it was all worth it once everything came together. people enjoyed my dishes, green beans almodine and a cheese cake. it was my first time making either. i now have two more things to add to my cooking repatoire. but i digress.

i do so enjoy playing the role of hostess. i get it from my granny. her hostess spirit had to come to someone since it skipped my mother completely. one day i shall have a big house and host parties for every holiday. thanksgiving, christmas, new years, easter, memorial day, labor day, fourth of july. you name it, and i shall host it.

until that blessed day i have to host parties at my parents house for the family. and gatherings at my house for friends (family doesn't want to travel to lake city). it might be tiring, but i enjoy being the hostess. it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it, and do it well.

Thankful thoughts

2011-11-23T22:06:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I can hardly wait. The kitchen is filled with smells of sweet potato pie, collard greens and much, much more. This time last year I was still in Lake City and not coming home until Thanksgiving evening. Talk about missing all the Thanksgiving fun. Such is not the case this time around. I came home to Jacksonville Tuesday night. Jesus is real, God is good and I am so thankful. Every year I like to make a list of things I am thankful for, be they big, little, random or slightly ridiculous. This year I’m thankful for:

A new job. I love writing, but office politics at my previous job were making me unhappy. It was time for a change. My new position allows me to still utilize my journalism skills in a much happier environment. Also, I have so much free time. Now I can actually enjoy life as a 20-something.

My roommate’s cat. I used to have a betta fish, Ralphie, but he passed away in January. Whenever I had a bad day, Ralphie was the first person to hear about it. Without my longtime confidant, I felt lost. Then Ozzie, the cat, decided I made a good pillow. Now he want leave me alone. But it did help me not hurt as much over losing Ralphie. Ozzie listens to my rants these days and cuddles when I need it. Yes, I am a semi-cat lady. Don’t judge me.

My friends. None of us live in the same city, yet we’ve maintained a bond since college. They keep me motivated in all my endeavors, call me out on my flaws when I need to hear it and are always there for me. Life is so much easier with friends. I would be lost without my close circle of friends. We each bring something unique to the overall friendship.

My family. From the root to the fruit, we’re all a hoot (an actual reunion slogan I’ve seen). Every time we’re all together I enjoy myself. I can’t wait until the family reunion. Any time we can all get together is a joy for me.

What are you thankful for this year?

Let Thanksgiving Shine

2011-11-22T08:49:00.001-05:00

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. And no, I’m not talking about the approaching Christmas season. My favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, is coming! Thanksgiving combines several great elements, food, family and more food. Don’t get me wrong, I love Sweet Baby Jesus and Christmas, but the holiday has become too stressful and commercialized. I have too many people on the gifts list. I’m going to suggest that we all only buy one family member a gift and let everyone know we’re donating gifts to those less fortunate. But I digress.

I was in Wal-Mart literally the week after Halloween and they were playing Christmas carols. Feliz Navidad was on blast while I was shopping for food. That struck a nerve in me, and not in a good way. Why can’t people just let Thanksgiving be great? Christmas is overshadowing Thanksgiving and I don’t think it’s fair. I feel some kind of way about hearing Christmas carols when it’s not even the day after Thanksgiving. Once upon a time Nov. 1 until the date of the actual holiday was all about Thanksgiving. Now Nov. 1 through Jan. 1 is all about Christmas. We’ve lost Thanksgiving, New Years and even my birthday.
Sweet Baby Jesus is NOT pleased. I’m pretty sure He would prefer we celebrate giving thanks. After all, everything we have to be thankful for is because of God. I’m glad Jesus was born but I’m also thankful for things he has done in my life. We should be thankful year-round, but I think it is important to have that one big day as a culmination of our thanks for the year.

During Thanksgiving, I feel like family and friends bond just a little bit more. Other than having a good meal, you don’t have much to worry about. It’s all about food, fun, fellowship, football and more food. Food, glorious food. I can’t wait until I have my own house. I plan on hosting elaborate Thanksgiving parties. People go overboard decorating for Halloween and Christmas, but not so much for Thanksgiving. I’m going to change that. My goal is to always let Thanksgiving shine in my life. I have too much to be thankful for otherwise.

the saga of a snorer

2011-11-21T10:01:00.002-05:00

Hello, my name is Toni and I snore. Quite loudly at that. OK Acceptance is the first step. Now I must find a way to end this problem. I didn’t want to believe that I snored. I thought people were mistaken when they mentioned it. But several people have told me on separate occasions that I snored. Hearing the same thing from three valid sources means it must be the truth. That could be the difference between me getting married or not. Who wants to marry the chick that snores? Reason no. 243 for me being a cat lady: I snore.

I might just snore worse than Grandpa.

I did a Google search on causes for snoring and got several results: menopause, obesity, sleep posture, blocked nasal passages and alcohol intake. I had a few hot flashes several weeks ago, but I highly doubt I have menopause at 26. I can count on one hand with several fingers left over of how many times I drunk this year. I can probably scratch that reason too. Any of the other three could be the culprit.

I’m fat. Not thick, big boned or husky, but obese. I wouldn’t say I’m morbidly so, but I need to drop at least 50 lbs. This is something I am actively working on. With my new job I have better hours, and can actually exercise on a regular and eat healthier. Once I drop that weight the snoring will be gone, right? Then again I change sleep positions frequently. Several friends attested to the fact that I didn’t snore while in one position. The noise only came when I switched. I just don’t know which one causes the snoring. What if it’s the one I’m most comfortable in? I don’t know when I’m snoring unless told.

Most of all, I have blocked nasal passages. The official medical term is inferior turbinate hypertrophy for my condition. Due to my allergies, my turbinate are enlarged the size of Cleveland last I heard. I already can’t half smell, so I tend to sleep with my mouth open. I read snoring could be an indicator of sleep apnea. This snoring is ridiculous. I’ve got to solve this problem before it gets much worse.

52 Weeks of Memories: Week 2

2011-11-20T21:23:00.003-05:00

Baby showers are always memorable.

It was busy Friday and Saturday for me this weekend. In my quest to “Get up, get out and do something,” and create 52 weeks of memories, I packed in a couple of activities.
Memory 2.1 featured a baby shower for a cousin on my mother’s side Friday. She’s in her 40s and just sent her last child to college. Someone must have forgotten to remind her it runs in the family to have children later in life. That’s what happens when you have multiple date nights with the hubby. This is why I always warn my parents when they go off gallivanting. There better be no more babies coming along.

I enjoyed spending time with my cousins. For my mom, it was all her nieces. She’s the baby of the family. All her siblings could be her parents and my grandparents. My dearly departed grandfather was married twice. From his first marriage there were seven. My mommy is the only child from the marriage number two union. She grew up basically like an only child and isn’t as close with her siblings. There’s more of a bond with her nieces and nephews, especially since they’re all the same age.

Overall that side of the family lacks closeness in some areas. We don’t all really know each other. This is why another cousin and I are organizing our first family reunion. Which brings me to memory 2.2. We met for dinner Saturday to discuss the basics of getting a reunion together for next year. Family members have tried to do it before, but it never came to fruition. Come what may, we are doing something this year in April. I’m not really sure why my cousin wanted April, but we’ll work with it. At least it’s not in June. I already am chairperson for my dad’s family reunion. I think for this one, I’m going to try to be secretary.

Some of my fondest memories are from time spent with my family. It was quite fitting that my two memories for this week were family related. Will that be the case next week? Stay tuned as I continue on my 52 weeks of memories quest.

the poet in me

2011-11-19T19:54:00.002-05:00

I was inspired to write a post today based on nothing but randomness. Why? Well why not? Sometimes you just want to get your poetry on. Plus, I wrote a massive post yesterday. It was perhaps the most serious I have ever been. I needed something to lighten the mood. So I present to you "Poetry is hard."

I got rhymes for days.

"Poetry is hard,"
said the boy to his teacher.
"For I am not the Bard
skilled with iambic pentameter.
I lack the skill to craft
a verse that is of much worth
I fear that I am too daft
and my poems are getting much worse."

"Oh no you are doing well,"
the teacher finally replied.
"With practice you'll be swell.
Soon you'll bring tears to my eyes.
Rome wasn't built in a day
and neither shall your skill be.
I believe for you poetry is the way
to demonstate your creativity."

"If I must, I shall attempt this chore,
but honestly dear teacher this really is a bore."
"Just keep at it my boy and one day you shall see
the benefits of this poetry lesson from me."

I'm a poet and now you know it. Well not really. I pretty much suck at poetry. Oh well, we can't all be gifted in everything.

Ties that bind

2011-11-18T11:27:00.001-05:00

This tie was shot with an arrow.

The day my grandmother died I buried any association with her siblings and their children. I wish they would realize it. Recently her niece, Sota, sent me a friend request on Facebook. I should have known this day was coming. Several months ago she visited my parents. I made myself scare. Sota supposedly wants to get closer to me, but there is no love here. It went away several years ago.

My grandma had two brothers, New York and Nevada, and a sister, Sarasota. We were all extremely close with them and their children until I reached college. Then Granny started suffering from Dementia. Nevada came to visit a few times, to help at first he said. But soon he started saying my mom, who is Granny’s only child, wasn’t taking care of her. He even called the Department of Children and Families, who checked out the report but dismissed the claims of neglect. Don’t even get me started on how Nevada was looking for my grandma’s money and said he needed to be paid for visiting. No one told you to come! At the end of this fiasco, my mom told Sarasota she didn’t care to speak with Nevada again and wouldn’t tell him if something happened to my grandma.

After that something happened. Slowly but surely Sarasota, New York and their children stopped talking to our entire family, Granny included. In a flash we lost a whole family tree. It hurt me so bad. It hurt my mom worse. The aunt you called your second mom basically washed her hands of you, and right when you really needed her. Sota at one point even left a hateful message to my mom for no reason. Things got worse with my grandma, but they weren’t around. Thankfully my dad’s side of the family, my mom’s siblings and so many friends provided us support.

It wasn’t until the funeral that I saw that group again. Sota reached out to hug me when I started crying. New York tried to soothe my brother’s tears. All I could think was “Where were you when we needed you the most? She’s gone now.” My mother was cordial and spoke to them at the repast. I said not one blessed word. Even when several came to our house later, I sat in the garage avoided them. Don’t try to catch up on the four years of my life you missed. You chose to not be there. Sota has since reconnected with my mother. They aren’t best friends, but they talk. My mom even speaks occasionally to Sarasota.

To this day I still don’t really know what happened to make them abruptly cut off communication. My dad’s theory is Sarasota got upset when my mom said she wouldn’t tell Nevada if something happened to my grandma. She spread the word and everyone just wrote us off. What they failed to realize is their actions didn’t just affect my mother but several people including: my grandmother, who talked about them constantly, yet they never visited; my little brother, who was barely in middle school when it happened; and me. Family is one of the most important things in my life. I thought they were supposed to be the first ones there for you when times were rough. Yet, we received more love and support from people not even related to my grandma. Sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water.

Maybe one day we can be a family again (an apology first would be nice). But today the pain is still as fresh as when it first happened. So I ignored Sota’s friend request without a thought. I know I need to forgive, but it’s hard to forget. I don’t hate them, but the love is gone along with the ties that bind us as a family.

Top news

2011-11-17T20:58:00.001-05:00

Clearly it must be the end times because so much crazy stuff is happening in the world today. I spend a good portion of my time keeping up with the latest news. I might not work at a newspaper anymore but please believe I’m still a newshound. Unless you’ve been living under a rock you’ve heard about The Penn State Scandal, Occupy Wall Street; all that is Herman Cain and Kim Khardasian’s short lived marriage. Here are my thoughts on these big major news events:

The Penn State Scandal. I read the grand jury report about Sandusky and just wanted to cry. I know everyone is supposed to be innocent until proven guilty, but can’t we just bypass all that and bury him alive? My trivia group was talking about it and said they felt Paterno was wrongfully fired. Am I the only one who feels like it was justified? He just didn’t do enough in my opinion to stop the madness. And McQueary should be fired too in my opinion. Why didn’t you stop Sandusky from violating the child when you saw it? I’m about to get all riled up again.

Occupy Wall Street. Is it bad I don’t understand what it’s all about? I know people are protesting about something. I’m just not really sure what. I know I probably should be more informed, but all the articles are unappealing. Except for the one where the 80-something-year-old woman was pepper sprayed.

Herman Cain. A Facebook friend keeps posting articles about him to my wall. I really wish he would stop. I’m not as big on national politics as much as I am on local. I do know enough about Herman Cain to say I won’t be voting for him if he makes it to Election Day. There is just something shady about him. Not to mention all these scandals coming out.

Kim Khardashian. I’m sick of hearing about her and her two second marriage. Is nothing sacred to people anymore? She made a mockery of the institution. It seemed like a publicity stunt since she announced her engagement. I figured it wasn’t going to last, but not that quick. I’m sick of hearing about her.

Where are my ZZZs

2011-11-16T18:31:00.000-05:00

I just want to sleep.

Has anyone seen the Sandman? You know the guy that supposedly brings dreams. He’s been avoiding my house lately. It was cool that first night. I wasn’t even too annoyed with night two. But after three nights of no sleep, I am concerned.

Bed time is now 11 p.m. for me. I get up at 7ish to get to work by 8 a.m. Lately I have gone to bed at 11 p.m., but sleep didn’t come until maybe 6:45 a.m. Before I can really doze, the alarm is blasting at 7 a.m. There are only so many times I can hit the snooze button. The absolute latest I can sleep and still make it to work on time is 7:40. A person can’t survive on 15 solid minutes of sleep time plus about 40 interrupted at five minute intervals.

I’ve been pondering a couple of possible reasons for my sleep deprivation:

God is trying to tell me something. An old gospel sung (as heard on “The Color Purple”) says “Can’t sleep at night. And you wonder why. Maybe God is trying to tell you something.” Apparently I haven’t been in touch with God as much as I should be. In that case, speak Lord. Speak to me. I promise I’m listening. I shall read my Bible and pray is sleep avoids me tonight.

I have a sleeping disorder. What if I legitimately have clinical insomnia? Is there a cure for that? Am I going to just stay awake for a month straight and become a living zombie? These are the things I ponder while lying in the bed at night. I guess I could follow the example of the unnamed protagonist in “Fight Club” and start attending random group support meetings. You know I’ve always wanted to do that anyway.

At least I haven’t felt like I was going to pass out from a lack of sleep. But who knows how long that will last? I just want to get some sleep tonight. So Mr. Sandman if you’re reading this “Please turn on your magic beam. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.” I really could use some sleep. Anyone have a cure for sleeping deprivation?

Protocol confusion

2011-11-15T19:04:00.000-05:00

Dating protocol – What is it? Is a manual nearby? At 26 years old I still don’t know a thing about dating protocol. This is partially why I don’t date. When I think about all the ends and outs or dos and don’ts, I get annoyed. I just can’t be bothered. Who has time to determine who calls whom first, or what is the appropriate waiting time to call someone after getting their number? I refuse to look needy after getting someone’s number. But I always don’t want to have him forget about me if I take too long to call. As a matter of fact who is supposed to ask for the number first?

What are the dating rules?

Don’t even get me started on playing hard to get. It’s not for me. Ma Dukes said the first time Papa Smurf called she acted like she didn’t know who it was. I’ve also been told to not seem too accessible. Don’t answer every time he calls. But what if I am available? Why go to all that trouble? Is there really a need to play games? Guys don’t play hard to get. Can’t I just follow that example?

One of the biggest things about dating protocol that confuses me is relationship status. Just how does one move up from dating to actual boyfriend and girlfriend? I had a boyfriend once. He used a Jedi mind trick to get me in a relationship. One day we argued about something. The next day we were in a relationship. To this day I still don’t know how it happened.

I blame my lack of dating knowledge on the fact that I chose the pursuit of academics and friends. I focused on school and hanging with my crew. Dating wasn’t really thought of until post-college. Friends say I have the dating mindset of a 16 year-old. Yes, I’m behind on the dating curve.

My home girl, Danity Kane, said at the end of the day there is no formula or official dating protocol. You just have to go with the flow between you and that person. Everything doesn’t apply to every situation. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I want to date and relate.

Adoption is an option Part 1

2011-11-14T17:41:00.000-05:00

You too can explore adoption as an option.

Is it bad that I visit the Adopt Florida website on a regular basis? It’s been a habit ever since I decided I want to adopt a child or two. There has never been a question of if I will have children but when I will have them. I complain about how children act, but more than anything else in the world I want to be a mother. My future goals include being PTSA president and baking cupcakes for my children’s kindergarten classes or having snacks for them and their friends after school. There is nothing wrong with my reproductive organs as far as I know. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I have “child-bearing hips.” And bear some children I shall. But also in the mix I want to adopt.

Adoption has been something I’ve seriously considered since encountering my previous mentee. She was a foster child, but her younger two sisters were adopted. So many older children are left in the system and never get adopted. They are just as worthy of a home as the younger ones. Perhaps that is why I joke that I plan on adopting a 17 year old. Realistically I’m open to ages 4-14. I thought about being a foster parent too. But what if I get attached and the state moves the child elsewhere?

I’m not at a place in my life right now to adopt. I don’t make enough money to support a child, live with roommates and most of all I’m unmarried. While marriage isn’t a necessary requirement for adopting a child, I would like to provide a two-parent household. Ideally I want to adopt first and then birth children. Should I never get married, I’ll proceed with the adoption procedure solo.

To me, children are a gift from God. There are so many who need a loving home. It doesn’t matter how they come into your life. As a parent you are supposed to take the best possible care of them. I think I’ve done a decent job as a mentor. Mommy has a nice ring to it. But there will be no little Toni’s anytime soon. Maybe in 10 years.

natural trendsetter

2011-11-13T16:23:00.000-05:00

I’ve had an obsession with my hair ever since I went completely natural in July 2005. I can hardly believe it’s been six years since that fateful night. While taking out kinky twist extensions, I decided to cut off my relaxed hair down to the new growth. I realized something that night – I cannot cut hair.

From relaxed to natural.

Choosing to go natural wasn’t because of some epiphany about relaxers, the creamy crack, being evil or believing that wearing my hair straight was a representation of me still being oppressed by the man. It was hardly that deep of a decision. I merely hate the process of having a relaxer applied. It burned like crazy, especially if you scratched, sweated or did anything to your hair the days leading up to an application. That was no way to live. Also I couldn’t find a hair dresser in Gainesville I trusted with my hair. Most of all, I liked the soft feel of curls that appeared during the days when I needed a relaxer.
Going natural wasn’t a popular decision in my immediate or extended family. It still isn’t. My father, grandma, aunt and uncle always have snide comments to say about my hair. I just ignore them. It is interesting to note, however, that several family members have also decided to go natural recently. Two aunts, an older cousin and even my mother have joined the ranks of natural beauties. I’d like to think I was the natural trendsetter.
It shocked me when Ma Dukes said she was going natural. She’s always indecidve about her hair to me. She had her relaxed hair cut off a few weeks ago. I haven’t been home to see it in person yet, but the pictures are amazing. Mother dear and I are not hair stylists at all. Working with our natural texture, we tend to do a lot better. Also, YouTube has so many videos of natural hair styles all I do is sit, watch and learn. I don’t believe when people say they can’t go natural. You came out the womb natural, not relaxed. But everything isn’t for everybody. Natural hair fits my personality. It's the right choice for me.

All by myself

2011-11-12T14:51:00.000-05:00

Hopefully I don't look this sad while alone.

My experience of going to Trivia Night alone on Wednesday got me thinking (which can sometimes be dangerous). How often do I avoid doing something because I don’t want to go alone? Actually not that often. I’ve always been a “the more the merrier” type of girl. In college I was quite co-dependent. I had a group of friends and we literally did everything together. It wasn’t until the SPLIT (long story short we moved in together, had a big falling out and now I don’t speak to anyone in the group) I finally ended my co-dependency. I gained some new friends, but my activities didn’t have to be the same as theirs. In a way this was helping me prepare for when I moved to Georgia and had no friends.

That first year in Hartwell I did everything alone. Movies, concerts, Christmas. I was all alone. The arrival of Cee is Athens down the road added a partner in crime for my escapades. I wouldn’t say I was co-dependent, but it was nice to have someone to hang with.

Things are much more fun when you have a friend. For instance when I went spend dating alone, it was OK but not too memorable. However, it was a laugh-a-palooza when my roommate joined me the second time. Imagine going to Florida-Georgia weekend festivities alone? Or what about the fair? There are just some activities not meant to be enjoyed alone. However, there are quite a few that don’t require a friend:

1. Visiting the library. You’re supposed to be quiet in there anyway. Stroll up and down the aisles looking for the perfect book in silence.

2. Going to the movies. Another place where silence is appreciated. If I wanted on everyone to see the movies I wanted I would never make it to the theater.

3. Shopping. I sometimes feel stressed when shopping with a friend. By myself I can go at my own pace.

4. Lunch. It’s nothing for me to take a good book with me while enjoying lunch.

Of course all of these places are more fun with a friend. What isn’t? But if a friend isn’t handy enjoy them alone.

The sick chronicles

2011-11-11T15:08:00.001-05:00

All good things must come to an end. For me that means my health. Of course I’m sick again. What else is new? Just the other day I was boasting to some that I haven’t been sick since I started my new job. Knock on wood. Or perhaps it’s too late for that now? I should have paid attention to the signs. Wednesday my nose was runny but I didn’t think too much about it. Then at some point Wednesday night while drinking water my throat started feeling funny. Just before bed my head began to feel congested. I popped two Benadryl pills and hoped for better results in the morning. No such luck. I was full fledge sick on Thursday.

She looks how I feel right now.

I blame the weather changes. Florida is bi-polar. One minute it’s 100 degrees. The next it’s 50. A body cannot get used to all of this. Plus it doesn’t help that I’ve neglected to take my gummy vitamins over the past few months. And I’ve been playing around some nights getting only four hours of sleep. Some cold days a jacket was optional. I was just asking to get sick.

Sickness affects me on a semi-regular basis. Unfortunately I tend to blurry what I have. Allergies, colds and sinus infections all seem fairly similar to me. How is one supposed to tell which is which? Half my time is spent trying to pick the right medicine for my symptoms. Then getting me to take any is a battle in itself. I am of the belief that taking medicine makes you sicker. Before I popped the Benadryl I only had about two symptoms. After the Benadryl I had four. It’s a conspiracy I tell you.

Most people lose weight while sick. Not me. At least not when it’s a cold, sinus infection or allergies. I tend to get the munchies. Now I’m going to want to eat everything in sight, particularly fried foods and chocolate. One silver lining for me is I have Friday off for Veteran’s Day. That gives me three days to recuperate by Monday. Will our heroine make it? Will she survive this latest bout of sickness? Stay tuned to the anTONIa Chronicles.

52 Weeks of Memories: Week I

2011-11-10T14:49:00.003-05:00

What's more memorable than trivia?

My goal is to “Get up, get out and do something” and create 52 weeks of memories for my New Year’s theme. Week one gets a nice gold star.

Wednesday I went to a weekly trivia night at a local bar restaurant. The hostess had invited me several weeks ago, and I decided to finally go. I’ve never been to a trivia night in a restaurant setting and didn’t really know what to expect. Apparently you’re supposed to have a team. Yours truly had no friends, or at least none who could attend. Poor little old me. The hostess asked if I wanted to be placed with a team, but I didn’t want to interrupt someone else’s group dynamics. Yes, even I can be shy. So I formed a one woman team, Solo Dolo Star.

The questions started off easy. Current events and food, I know. TV, not so much. I played for several rounds until a woman came up and said, “Hey how are you doing?” At first I thought it was someone I had interviewed during my previous life as a reporter. But I couldn’t place her face or name. Turns out she was just a friendly person who noticed the lone black girl in a sea of white (I definitely stuck out). She tried to get me to sit at the bar but realized I was playing trivia and took me to a team instead. Some friends of hers, a married couple, were missing members. The next thing I knew a new team was formed, Short Sale.

My super new team worked together to answer questions ranging from how many bedrooms are there in the game Clue (none) to what is the Caped Crusader plus Don Quixote (Batman of la Mancha). Ultimately we came in fifth place. But it was a great bonding experience for us. They even paid for my bill. The couple said I must come back next week. With our powers combined we could place third or higher.

I’m glad I went to trivia night. I most definitely will make plans to come again. And now I have a team to join. If only I could remember their names.

Treat yourself

2011-11-09T17:45:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite shows right now is “Parks and Recreation.” Amid the wacky interactions between the characters are little life lessons in each episode. At least that’s what I thought after seeing the episode “Pawnee Rangers.”

A subplot for the episode detailed how two characters, Tom Haverford and Donna Meagle, have an annual “Treat Yourself” day. The day is filled with much needed pampering and shopping. Items bought can be something frivolous because as they both pointed out, “Treat yourself.” For this year’s day they brought along a friend, Ben Wyatt. He was confused about the “Treat Yourself” philosophy. He didn’t enjoy the spa treatment and initially only bought a big pack of socks.

This guy knows how to treat himself.

After viewing the episode, there was only one thing I could do – set up my own “Treat Yourself” day. It’s a genius concept. Who doesn’t want to have at least one day out the year where they throw caution to the wind? Instead of saying no to the polyester suit with mushroom lining like the other 364 days, you “Treat yourself” and buy it.

Often as adults we get caught up in the busy world. We spend vacations at home. Eat lunch at our desks. Work after the day is done at home. This is done all while juggling other responsibilities such as family, school or more. We need to take the time to treat ourselves for all the hard work we put in throughout the year. Not treat the children, the spouse, the friend, but ourselves.

I’m not sure what my “Treat Yourself” day will consist of just yet. Whatever it is will be something I greatly enjoy. The day is your opportunity to just treat yourself to whatever you enjoy. Donna even pointed out to Tom that while pampering and new clothes are their version of “Treat Yourself” day, maybe Ben had another. Perhaps a “Treat Yourself” day for you might be the one time out the year you eat nothing but chocolate cake. Or maybe you want to get in VIP for a swanky event. It doesn’t matter what you do or how you do it. Just keep one thing in mind on that day – Treat Yourself!

Good reads

2011-11-08T18:34:00.001-05:00

I'm a regular book worm.

The library is one of my favorite places in the world. It has books, glorious books, all over the place. Usually I pick up three to four books on every visit. Mystery is my favorite genre, but I have been known to check out a few other categories. Sometimes I head to the library armed with a list of particular books I want. Other times I pick up what catches my fancy while browsing the shelves. Here's what I got on my latest trip:

The lost symbol by Dan Brown. I liked “The Da Vinci Code” and enjoyed “Angels & Demons.” It seemed quite natural to pick this one up too. Unfortunately Brown's works are starting to seem a little too similar. I kind of stopped reading this one after the first 100 pages. It is interesting. Unfortunately I know how it's all going to play out already (and not because I read the Wikipedia page on it). Maybe I'll pick it up again after I finish reading the other books in the pile.

When the thrill is gone by Walter Mosley. The Easy Rawlings mysteries by Mosley are my favorite book series of all time. He sort of ended the series, and I became extremely sad. Who would be my detective crush? Then he started the Leonid McGill mysteries. I am in love again. All is right with life.

Minion: a vampire huntress legend by L.A. Banks. I never read any of her works but felt compelled to pick up at least once after she recently died. It doesn’t hurt that I semi-love paranormal fiction. Hopefully I like the book. If not, I probably won’t bother reading the entire series. There are about 13 books in it.

Waiting to exhale by Terry McMillan. I’ve seen the movie 50 million times. I’ve also read other books by McMillan. Yet, I never picked up this particular book for some reason. It wasn’t until she released the sequel that I really wanted to read it. I didn’t want to read the second before the first. The movie was great, but you know directors always leave or change parts of the book. I want to see the differences.

post new year's theme

2011-11-07T21:40:00.002-05:00

Allow me to present something that is long overdue: my new year’s theme. Think of it as a slogan of sorts. Usually I wait until the end of the year to unveil my theme. What better way to start the New Year off? For me, a theme helps provide a definition for the New Year. It sets the standards to make the New Year the best one possible. Instead of setting resolutions, which I never keep, I can use a theme as my guide for the year.

No more being a lazy bum.

The ever fantastic Cee first introduced me to the concept of themes in late 2008. She declared 2009 as her year of “Living Off the Wall.” Her goal was to step outside the box and try new things, which she did. I followed suit and made my theme for 2009 “The Year of the Do Better.” I tried to do better in every aspect of my life. The next year my theme was “2010: Do it Big, Then.” After doing better, I had to do it big. Then 2011 hit, but I didn’t really set a theme. I lacked motivate to do anything. I sat around like a bum with my free time. That’s about to change.

There are only a few weeks left in the year, but I have been inspired to set a theme. This is one that will carry me through 2012. My goal for a year is to “Get up, get out and do something: 52 weeks of memories.” The other day it hit me – I don’t do much of anything. I have all this free time because of the new job. I said my previous job kept me from living. Now that I’ve changed careers, it’s time to live a little.

With my new theme, I am determined to do something memorable each week. There is more to life than just watching anime episodes or sleeping for 10 hours. No longer will I waste my time idly. Some things will be planned. Others will be spontaneous. This week I’m planning on going to trivia night and to a party. Already my theme is moving at full blast. All that matters is that I do something.

A new identity

2011-11-06T16:04:00.000-05:00

Identity is more than just one area.

In the past people have often greeted me by saying, “Hey Ms. Reporter” or “What’s up Ms. Media” and so on. Being a reporter was not only my job description, but also my identity. At least it was until about a month ago. I took a position with a local college in the area. It encompasses a variety of my skills cultivated in the journalism industry.

When I went to church Sunday, someone greeted me with a, “Hey Lake City Reporter.” I responded “Not anymore. I don’t work there anymore.” It felt great to say those words. I was worried about not being a reporter anymore before leaving. What would it feel like? Would I miss it? Most of all, how would I identify myself?

In my mind I am a woman of few talents. I bombed at playing the piano. I can’t sing. Acting isn’t for me. My speaking skills leave much to be desired. Writing, particularly articles was the one area I could shine. Being a journalist did not automatically make me able to write poetry, fictional stories, plays and so forth. However, I could pen the facts in a somewhat appealing article.

My writing garnered attention, which fed into my ego. Articles I wrote sometimes inspired action among the masses. I believe everyone has a purpose in life. But now that I wasn’t going to be a reporter anymore what good would I be to society? Who am I if not a reporter? Clearly I became so wrapped up in the reporter title until I forgot my identity.

It’s only been three weeks but I’m much happier in my new position. (I even have an office). I don’t really miss reporting the news. Now I can make it. As for my new identity, I’m simply me. Not Toni the reporter. Just Toni. That’s the only identity I need because it sums up everything in one. Whether I’m writing articles or coordinating a program to help students graduate from high school and college (the new job), I can make a difference. I used to only know one thing I was good at – writing. In my new position I hope to discover some more.

Rocking to the Radio

2011-11-05T16:18:00.003-04:00

It was cleaning day for me this Saturday. My room was in desperate need of a thorough cleaning. I could no longer put it off. To help the time go by, I tuned into the radio. Music always seems to make everything more fun. My station of choice is 107.3 Jamz based in Greenville, S.C. I loved listening to that station while living in Georgia because of the awesome mix of today's R&B and old school. The jams kept flowing during my cleanup time. Here's a glimpse at what I heard:

I love the radio!

1. Piece of My Love by Guy. This song speaks to the old school lover in me. I must find an old school music party to attend one day.

2. Pieces of Me by Ledisi. I never heard any of Ledisi’s songs before this one. Now I love her. And her hair is fabulous too.

3. They Don’t Know by Jon B. What ever happened to Jon B.? He was the forerunner of Robin Thicke.

4. Moment for Life by Nicki Minaj featuring Drake. This song made me a Nicki Minaj fan. When it comes on I grab my blue wig and start rapping along.

5. Cool by Anthony Hamilton. I think Anthony Hamilton is so underrated. He’s a talented singer, and his music always makes me feel so cool.

6. Workout by J. Cole. My brother loves J. Cole. I’m not sure how I feel about him yet. But this song is decent enough to enjoy.

7. Why I Love You So Much by Monica. Monica has been in the music industry forever. I remember when she came out.

8. No One Gonna Love You by Jennifer Hudson. I loved this song when it came out. Usually I don’t feel most of J. Hud’s songs. She needs better song writers.

9. Just Like Me by Jamie Foxx featuring T.I. The video for this song actually made me like it. Plus I love Jamie Foxx.

10. Sure thing by Miguel. My favorite line in the song is “I’m the reporter baby, you can be the news.” I’m not sure if you could consider me a Miguel fan just yet, but this song is hot!

What’s your species?

2011-11-04T15:30:00.000-04:00

The cheetah hunts the gazelle. Not the other way around.

I am a gazelle – at least in my mind when it comes to dating and relating. Sometimes I wish more men would realize they’re a cheetah in the equation, particularly the ones interested in me. It would make things so much easier in the dating process. I’ve never been one to chase after a man. I fully believe he should be the pursuer in the relationship: the unequivocal cheetah to my gazelle.

Picture a scene of a gazelle running with her herd in the African savannah. The gazelle stops to eat several plants and leaves when he appears, the cheetah. He is hungry for the hunt and carefully stalks his prey. Madame Gazelle tries to run away with a speed of 60 miles per hour, but she is no match for Monsieur Cheetah, the fastest creature alive. He quickly gives chase and goes in for the kill. Fresh gazelle is on the dinner menu tonight. All is right in the animal kingdom.

Who am I to go against the very hierarchy of the animal world? Therefore I will settle for nothing less than a cheetah. Unfortunately my definitive stance has some drawbacks. My friend extraordinaire, Cee, often says “you let him get away,” regarding guys I’ve semi-liked. There was always interest on both parts, but nothing ever came to fruition. Well it’s their fault. They didn’t attack, like a cheetah. I am not the lioness hunting a water buffalo for the pride. If I’m a gazelle they were springboks, another creature in the antelope family. We can’t both be the prey in the equation. Then who’s pursuing who?

Perhaps if I were a more aggressive woman I would be a lioness and take total control in potential dating situations. But a girl like me prefers to be wooed and pursued. Not every woman is meant to be a gazelle. I think it’s important to know where you fit in the animal kingdom in terms of dating. Obviously a self-help guide of some sort is needed. I can see my bestseller: “Be a gazelle: knowing your species in the dating kingdom.” Cee suggests disguising it as a fiction novel. Fiction meets self-help. I can dig it.

All I want for the holidays

2011-11-03T16:37:00.000-04:00

Halloween just ended a few days ago, and Thanksgiving isn’t even here yet. I’ve already started compiling my Christmas/Birthday list. I don’t bother trying to specify which is for what day since the two are so close together. My parents have received a holiday list from me since I was old enough to write. There is no reason for the tradition to end just because I’m in my late 20s. My lists never ask for anything too extravagant. I am a woman of simple tastes. All I want for Christmas /Birthday this year is:

Is a few things here and there.

1. Adult size footie pajamas. I love PJs with the feet attached. Don’t. Judge. Me. The PJs would be perfect for the cold winter nights when I am curled up in my cocoon of warmth. There is one in particular that features Eeyore.

2. Eeyore bedroom slippers. Size 10 (I have big feet). On the nights I don’t wear the footie PJs, I can sport these instead. I love Eeyore. Can you tell?

3. A Chia Pet. I’ve always wanted one. Never got it. This year it’s do or die. I would like to think I can get something to grow successfully.

4. A crock pot. I hate cooking in several pots. A crock pot would allow me to get it all in one. It’s less of a cleaning hassle too.

5. Glee the Music Vols. 4-6 and Presents the Warblers. I love, love, love Glee. It touched me from the pilot episode. Some songs they perform much better than the original artist (i.e. Dreams by Fleetwood Mac).

6. A diploma frame. I graduated from college in 2007. My diploma sits rolled up in my book chest (a toy chest with books). It doesn’t need to be an expensive one. Walmart has several for like $20.

7. Large picture frames. Preferably in black. I have an office to decorate. What better way than with collages? I promise to feature family and friends and not just myself.

I know I’m leaving something really cool off the list. I just don’t know what. But honestly any gift I receive is always a pleasure. Just the thought of someone thinking on me is gift enough.

Bye Bye Birdie

2011-11-02T17:57:00.001-04:00

Mama Bird is not happy to see her baby leave.

A child-free home is a source of depression for some parents. Such was not the case for several featured in an Associated Press article entitled, “Empty nest? Not all parents are sad about it.” The writer interviewed several parents who were ecstatic their children were leaving home. They shared plans of traveling overseas, starting new projects and just enjoying life without children. I’m surprised I didn’t see my parents’ names in the article.

Empty nest syndrome is a feeling of loneliness that affects parents when their children leave home. Supposedly it’s due to a diminished parenting role and influence in their children’s lives. According to the AP article, parents who are controlling and micromanage their children are more likely to experience the syndrome.

It seems fairly easy to spot parents likely to have the disorder. You’ve seen them before: the mother weeping profusely when her last child graduates from high school; the father requiring his only child to call home every day; or the parents who basically haven’t cut the apron strings from their children. The parents became so wrapped up in their children’s lives and neglected to establish their own identity.
I’ve never wondered if my parents would suffer from empty nest syndrome. They’ve been ready to get my brother and me out the house since we reached high school. People asked my mother if she was going to cry when I left for college. “For what?” or “Yeah, tears of joy,” she responded. The nest is not empty at the Robinson household just yet, but it has seemed like it since my brother was at least 16. My parents have been ripping and running with their own lives. That’s not to say they don’t care about us. Their parental support and guidance hasn’t ended. It simply evolved to reflect how both children have reached adulthood.

My future children will definitely be an important part of my life; however, I want them to leave the nest one day. Why try to keep them home forever? Enjoy life to the fullest while children are home and after they leave. Let the baby birds leave the nest. And wish them a bye, bye birdie with a smile.

NaBloPoMo: the return

2011-11-01T11:14:00.000-04:00

It’s officially National Blog Posting Month, and yours truly is joining the fun. The project was inspired by National Novel Writing Month, where writers complete a novel from start to finish in a month. NaBloPoMo features bloggers posting something different every single day. The task is much easier than it sounds. I know from firsthand experience.

March kicked off my dry run for NaBloPoMo. My kemo sabe, Cee, introduced me to NaBloPoMo several years ago. She’s always in the know about things the cool kids are doing. Once explained, I knew NaBloPoMo was something I could get into and enjoy. I am a writer after all. Also, I’ve started a new job (more details on that later) and no longer have to write as frequently for “the man.” I have more than enough free time to write for myself and my five readers.

Writing started off as a hobby in fourth grade, became a career choice in sixth grade and was my profession for several years. Now it’s back to hobby status. I took a nearly two-month sabbatical from writing recently. Well from posting on my blog at least. I still wrote in my journal and worked as a reporter. It was a much needed break.

In my time away, I was able to reflect on my favorite part of writing: the finished product. Yes, I love coming up with good post ideas, skillfully crafting words together to make my point and revising it to perfection. However, the ultimate satisfaction comes when the post is done so I can share it with others. Then the fun begins when I receive feedback. I say I write for myself, but if that was the case I would merely scribble my musings in the little green journal next to my desk. Posting allows me to share my thoughts while getting feedback from others, good, bad or in-between.

The rest of the month should be quite interesting regarding what I post. I have some ideas in mind, but I never know what might inspire me to write. I can’t wait to read 30 days worth of a finished product. National Blog Posting Month has returned, and post I shall every day.

Gone 'Til November

2011-09-15T22:40:00.004-04:00

My poor sick computer.

I’m taking a semi-break from posting, not writing, until November. My
dearly beloved laptop, Sheba, is in her final days. The doctor said
she’s only got one or two good starts left in her. Her hard drive and
disc drive are gone. Last week she wouldn’t even start up. Imagine my
horror. There are some other minor problems as well. Unfortunately,
the cost to repair her is almost as much as buying a brand new
computer.
Woe is me for I didn’t plan on buying a new laptop for another month.
And despite this sad state of affairs, I’m sticking to that plan. My
budget says no major purchases until Oct. 26. One day I’ll have an
unlimited budget and be able to drop a dime without a care. That day
is not today.
This leaves me without a reliable computer to write on. I hate using
library computers because there always seems to be a high demand. No
one wants to wait on me to write a post. And I definitely can’t write
and post at work. Not unless you want the laid off chronicles because
they fired me for personal computer use on company time. Perhaps if we
all chant, “Come back little Sheba,” she’ll make it through. Join with
me now. Just kidding (unless you want to do it).
If anyone has a good laptop suggestion, let me know. I hate Macs for
the record. They bring back bad memories of my educational technology
class in college. I don’t even know why I took that class. It had
something to do with a computer proficiency requirement for my major.
As a result I took modern problems with computers, navigate the
Internet and that stupid class. But I digress.
Perhaps Sheba will last until the next Writing Wednesday (and you
thought I just wrote on Wednesdays for kicks and giggles). I will
definitely post something. And the same holds for every Wednesday
after that, but no guarantees.
I promise to make it up in November for National Blog Posting Month.
That’s right, 30 consecutive days of me posting...again. Remember that dry run.

A hand to hand exchange

2011-08-31T23:08:00.001-04:00

There is no escaping a handshake in society, but that doesn’t mean it should be executed any old way. It can’t be too soft or too hard. Ideally a handshake should be firm – a happy medium between the two extremes. Personally, I’m not a fan of the practice. Some people don’t wash their hands while others have open cuts and sores. Yet, they will gladly stick out a hand for you to shake. No. Thank. You. This is why I keep hand sanitizer with me at all times. However, I often have to bite the bullet and offer my hand. My only request is if you’re going to shake my hand, make sure it’s done right.

I abhor the “almost dead fish” handshake. You know what I mean – an overly weak handshake that feels like the person is barely alive. Perhaps if the fish was dead it would feel better because of the stiffness from rigor mortis. Shaking hands with an almost dead fish feels disgusting. The main culprit of this handshake is men, at least for me. Several peers and I actually had a discussion about this handshake. The view was men don’t want to hurt a woman with a strong shake. Well simply shake it firmly. Just because I am a woman I will not break. I promise.

On the flip side I hate the “bone crusher” handshake. It’s happened several times where someone shook my hand so hard until my knuckles cracked. The sound came out very loud and clear for both of us to hear. I should not need a cast after a handshake. It’s a handshake, not a test to pull the sword out of the stone. Perhaps my biggest complaint is the “barely there” handshake. It makes me think the person doesn’t want to touch me. Then I start to feel bad. Why isn’t my hand good enough to shake? I should not leave a handshake with lowered self-esteem because the person doesn’t know how to handle the exchange properly.

A firm handshake is truly one size fits all. It doesn’t matter if you have the strength of Popeye or the frailty of Olive Oyl. Keep that in mind and people everywhere will clamor to touch you. Then again they probably have germs. I think I might just start curtseying instead. No touching required.

Exhibit A: A firm handshake

Back to school Blues

2011-08-24T23:17:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time I could not wait to graduate from high school and college. School just was not for me. Senioritis hit me freshman year at both levels. Sure I made good grades and loved learning, but I didn’t like half of my classes. Math and science classes were of no use to me, but I was all about anything relating to history, English or journalism. Graduating was the happiest day of my life. No more teachers. No more books. Nothing but dirty looks. Instead that was replaced with work, no fun and bills. Adult hood sucks!

Good old fashion school days!

Recently it hit me: I miss school. I blame stores such as Walmart. How dare they display rows and rows of school supplies? There are people like me who have long since graduated and don’t need a Trapper Keeper, pencil pouch or graphing calculator. Yet these stores keep taunting me with items such as a Disney princesses lunch box. For the love of Disney I want one too! Each trip makes me nostalgic for buying school supplies such as notebooks, mechanical pencils and a book bag. How else will I be prepared for the first day of class where my eager little mind can soak in as much knowledge as possible? Bed Bath and Beyond keeps sending me these catalogues, and in my mind I have decorated a dorm room three times over. Hanging door mirror here. Collapsible laundry hamper there. Butterfly chair in the corner. And Gator gear all over. I can picture it now.

Right now I am jealous of all the students who headed back to school this week. These are some of the best years of their life. They’ll get fun, pep rallies, welcome back activities and much more. I get work, work and more work. It’s almost enough to drive me to tears. Then I start to think about the downsides of school: mid-terms, 10-page papers, all nighters, sitting in a boring class for 90 minutes or more and dealing with all the teenage and young adult drama. With that in mind, I think I’ll pass. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like school. My back to school blues are cured.

a natural pat down

2011-08-17T23:18:00.001-04:00

Going natural is perhaps one of the best decisions I have ever made for my hair. I love the texture and feel of it and enjoy experimenting with new styles. What I don’t love is people touching my hair without permission. I also wouldn’t be too keen on having it touched by the Transportation Security Administration. I came across an article on the New York Times website about a woman, Timery Nance, who said a T.S.A. officer patted down her hair even though she already went through the body scan.

According to the article:
She asked the screener why her hair was searched while others, including white women with ponytails or bushy hair, were simply waved through. “Is it just African-American women with natural hair who get the hair search?” she asked.
The screener said no, “but if you have certain kinds of ponytail or bun, you have to get your hair patted,” said Ms. Nance, who is 30.

The writer of the article also mentioned a second pat down incident:
On June 30, a young African-American woman, Laura Adiele, said that a screener at the Seattle-Tacoma airport insisted on patting down her hair, which was also natural and curly, even though the body scan had not set off an alarm. Ms. Adiele said in various interviews that she thought the search had been racially motivated.
The T.S.A. denies that. “All passengers are thoroughly screened coming through the screening checkpoint,” said Kristin Lee, a spokeswoman. “Additional screening may be required for clothing, headgear or hair where prohibited items may be hidden,” she said.

Safety is always important when flying, and I understand T.S.A. has a job to do, but I’m not quite sure how I would respond to a request for a hair pat down. Half the time my flights are extra early, so I’m already grumpy. Also I don’t wear a true afro very often, but you might catch my hair in a twist-out. However, with either style my hair is not that big or bushy to hide anything in it (other than a Bobby pin). Any screener would calmly get told no if they tried to pat down my hair. I can picture the headlines now: Florida woman arrested for refusing airport screening. On second thought, I’m even less a fan of ending up in the slammer with Big Shirley. So pat away T.S.A. Just know there will be a chronicle about it later.

The fictionalized truth

2011-08-10T23:26:00.002-04:00

One of the top books on my summer reading list is “The Help” by Kathryn Stockett. I’ve been anxiously waiting to read the book since it came out. Unfortunately it’s so popular the library never has a copy available. Guess I’ll just see the movie adaption for now.

“The Help” opened today and stars Emma Stone (one of my favorite actresses), Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer and many others. The best-selling book is supposed to be a work of fiction and not based on any actual person, but a lawsuit says otherwise.

One day I'll get to read the book.

Ablene Cooper claims her name and likeness was used without permission as the basis of one of the main characters, Aibileen, in the book and movie. Cooper is the maid for Stockett’s brother and filed a lawsuit in February against the author asking for $75,000. Stockett’s lawyers want the lawsuit dismissed, and a hearing is set for Aug. 16.

According to an Associated Press article:

Stockett's refusal to admit that she based the character on Cooper's likeness "is so outrageous in character, and so extreme as to go beyond all bounds of human decency, and is utterly intolerable in a civilized community," says the lawsuit, which represents one side of a legal argument.
The lawsuit quotes passages from the book, including one in which Aibileen's character describes a cockroach: "He black. Blacker than me."
The lawsuit said Cooper found it upsetting and highly offensive to be portrayed as someone "who uses this kind of language and compares her skin color to a cockroach."
Among alleged similarities between Cooper and the character, Cooper said she lost a son shortly before going to work for Stockett's brother, where she takes care of two children, a boy and a girl. Cooper's lawsuit said that's the same as the character portrayed in the book.

Books usually have the disclaimer “Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.” Still many writers get their inspiration from something or someone real. In my journalism classes we always learned “Truth is better than fiction.” Stockett very well could have been inspired to base Aibileen on Cooper. But she probably also took inspiration from other people. After all, she grew up with a maid in the house.

Perhaps it would have been wiser for Stockett to get a little more creative with the book’s details and distort the character enough so it was a composite of all her influences. That could have saved a lawsuit. Please believe if someone used my name and likeness without permission, I’m suing for at least a cool million. Hopefully the two parties will reach an agreement. Either way, I’m looking forward to reading the book and seeing the movie.

I see good people

2011-08-06T17:17:00.004-04:00

It always does my heart some good to see people showing kindness to others. Instantly I want to pay it forward and help someone else in need. Above all it restores my faith in the goodness of humanity.

Today while driving off from my favorite hangout, Walmart, I noticed a man on the side of the road with a sign asking for any food. “Poor man,” I thought. “I don’t have any change or food.” I was actually headed to get a snack myself and decided to get him something too. Situations like this already bring to mind Matt. 25:41-46 (read it sometimes). I’ve got enough things to atone for already. I don’t want to hear Jesus say one day “I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat.”

The light was taking forever to change, which gave me the opportunity to notice a few things. First the car behind me handed the man a bag of chips. Then I saw another man walking through the grass. I thought it was someone else needing food. He was actually bringing the first man a meal and drink. Both exchanges touched me and I started feeling all misty-eyed (I’m a bucket of tears). I almost missed the light from observing.

In case I ever end up on the side of the road.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve become cynical because of my job. I love what I do, but often I get to see the worse in people. Murder, mayhem and just plain madness reign supreme in the news. When there is “good news” people are often only motivated to do things for purely selfish reasons such as publicity. No one does a good deed just because it’s the right thing to do. Or so I think until I see something as simple as people giving a hungry man food. Then I remember the words of Anne Frank, “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”

This world is very much an ugly place at times. People are often at odds with each other. But that can’t stop us from showing the good in us. If nothing else, today’s happening helped me become a little less jaded by the world and more enthused to do some good in it.

RIP Black Sitcoms

2011-08-03T20:53:00.001-04:00

There are no good black sitcoms on television anymore. Gone are the days of quality programs, such as “The Cosby Show.” The only sitcoms on right now reflecting black culture are unfunny, trashy or just downright bad. I’m talking to you “House of Payne.” And you need cable to even watch these shows. What happened to simply switching on NBC, ABC or Fox?
Don’t get me wrong. I love a good sitcom, be it black, white or otherwise. “Community,” “Modern Family” and “Parks and Recreation” are among the best shows on TV right now. I just miss the days where if the show stars happened to look like me, it was actually good.

The black sitcoms I watched could fall into several categories:

Universal Appeal: These shows appealed to any and everyone, whether black or white.
The Cosby Show, Family Matters, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

The Classics: The Encyclopedia of Black Culture lists these as required viewing.
A Different World, Living Single, Martin, Moesha, Good Times, Sanford and Son, The Jeffersons

Honorable Mentions: Perhaps not classics, but just as good.
227, What’s Happening, One on One, Hanging with Mr. Cooper, Sister, Sister, The Parkers, Smart Guy

Underrated: Too many people slept on these shows.
Amen, Sparks, Roc, The Parent ‘Hood, Malcolm and Eddie, Everybody Hates Chris, Eve

Kid Friendly: Children and adults loved them.
Keenan and Kel, That’s So Raven, Cousin Skeeter, My Brother and Me

Big Time: Someone made it big and got his own show.
The Bernie Mac Show, The Jamie Foxx Show, The Steve Harvey Show, The Sinbad Show, The Gregory Hines Show, The Wayans Bros.

Guilty pleasures: So bad until it was entertaining.
Homeboys in Outer Space

Just OK: These shows weren’t bad, but weren’t really good either.
In The House, My Wife and Kids, Goode Behavior, Good News, The Hughleys, For Your Love

Gone too soon: They lasted only a season but had the promise of being entertaining.
On Our Own, Out All Night, Thea

Who doesn't miss these shows?

They just don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Are all the good black sitcoms dead? Me thinketh yes. At least there’s TV One where I can watch reruns of some of my favorites.

Contacts v. glasses

2011-07-20T20:13:00.001-04:00

The end has come for my reign of wearing glasses. I’m returning to contacts. I finally set an eye appointment for Thursday after a four month delay.

I hate wearing glasses. Absolutely. Hate. It. My vision was just fine until fourth grade when the world became blurry. I had to get a pair of giant coke-bottles, and four-eyes became a common insult over the years. In 10th grade I discovered contacts and never looked back. I still kept a pair of glasses handy to rest my eyes as needed, but contacts were a constant in my world. If I went to sleep with contacts, I would wake up thinking my sight had returned.

Sure contacts had a downside. Wear them too long and you risk dry eyes or infections. They easily pop out if you barely rub your eyes. And the slightest scratch hurts like the dickens. The bad outweighed the good of glasses any day. I didn’t start wearing glasses on a regular again until about four years ago. Blame the working world. Long hours in front of the computer aren’t good for the eyes. I only wore glasses to rest my eyes at the end of the day.

A few months ago I only had one pair of contacts left. For some reason I kept putting off an eye appointment. I thought I would get to it before anything happened to that last pair. A scratch beat me to the punch. Now I’ve been stuck wearing glasses since March. This is a cruel and unusual self-inflicted punishment. Glasses make me look 10 years older, and I refuse to take pictures with them on. They are not a flattering look for me any way you put it. I do not look like a sexy librarian, teacher or whoever.

Enough was enough, so I finally made an appointment. I can’t wait to pop in my first pair of contacts in months. It will open up a whole new world of sight. Someone once told me I could just get Lasik and be rid of glasses and contacts forever. Lasers. On my eyes. No thank you. I’ll stick to contacts, and the occasional pair of glasses.

fear of falling

2011-07-13T23:16:00.004-04:00

I’ve got fears. Lots of them. Most are logical in my opinion. I don’t like clowns because I watched “Killer Klowns from Outer Space” and later read “It.” I’m now convinced clowns are the devil. Cabs make me nervous because there was a guy in Jacksonville killing girls in his taxi several years ago. I try to avoid riding them.

One of my biggest fears is falling in the shower. I can see it now. I get into the shower for a wonderful washing experience. Unbeknownst to me, there is an extra slippery spot in the tub. Right when I prepare to get out … KARPLUT! I slip and fall head first and bust open my skull. No one is home, and brain juices ooze for hours. By the time they find my body, it’s too late to save me. And then the world shall mourn. Gruesome little scene isn’t it? Well it could really happen, because I almost slip in the shower at least once every other month. I don’t really know how. It just always happens.

Nothing could replace this fear in the top 10 spot, or so I thought until IT happened Tuesday morning. I was enjoying a washing experience and dropped the soap. I bent down to reach it but came up yelling in pain. Somehow I managed to cut my shoulder on the shower door handle. Tears formed soon as I saw skin had been removed. In place of the brown, there was nothing but white, and soon it was turning red. Immediately I hopped out the shower, forgetting my fear of falling, and grabbed some peroxide and a Band-Aid. One top fear was replaced for another.

It’s been two days since that incident, but my shoulder still is tender from the cut. Lifting my arms causes a bit of pain these days. Now I get into the shower with fear and trembling. Not because I could fall. I’ve got bigger problems. I could cut myself. What if it’s a main artery and I slowly bleed to death? Just when you thought it was safe to take a shower, you realize it’s not. Maybe I should switch to safe little baths.

the last to know

2011-07-08T00:27:00.001-04:00

No one tells me anything in my family, and I hate it. I’m always the last to know when it comes to family affairs. Not trivial things such as family gossip but important information, such as when people are sick. There is no reason I should have just found out Thursday my grandmother is in the hospital. Especially since she went in Wednesday. Or that she has cancer and is having surgery to remove the growth Friday.

Would I have ever known if I hadn’t called out of the blue and asked a specific question? My parents seem to think I get too emotional and hysterical when hearing bad news. No, I get upset when I find out things randomly. Then no one ever has any details. They give you bits and pieces of information and leave you to assume the worse.

This isn’t the first time my parents failed to tell me important bad news. I found out my other granny was dying because some nosy individual called me at work to ask what was wrong with her. Nothing to my knowledge. This led me to calling my parents and hearing the dreaded news. She had been in hospice since Sunday. I got that first call Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening she was gone. All I could do was write and cry. No one wants to work knowing their grandmother is dying 500 miles away.

My parents didn’t seem to learn from that situation. I found out my brother was in the hospital with cancer by randomly calling my mom too (though she can’t seem to remember). I hopped in the car instantly to head home. Ma Dukes said in those instances it was because I lived nearly six hours away, by myself, and they didn’t want to upset me. I live just an hour away now. So what’s the excuse?

Sometimes I feel like the red-headed step child. One cousin pointed out my grandmother’s children like to keep information to themselves. Only one grandchild is ever in the know. My grandmother may have about 50 million other grandchildren, but we all deserve the right to know what’s happening with her, especially if we’re asking. If nothing more the top 10, myself included, should be in the loop. I might get emotional and start crying, but in the midst of my crying I can pray too.

The communication chain needs to be strengthened in the family. I’ve told my mother I don’t like how things go down when it’s bad news. Pa Dukes is getting the talk next. Maybe in the future they will do better. All I know is if I so much as get a cold, I am sending out a press release to everyone in the family.

tales of a traveler

2011-07-06T23:06:00.002-04:00

It feels like I haven’t seen my house in ages. Maybe it’s because I’ve been on a trip every weekend since June 17. The house has seen me a grand total of seven days between then and now. When opportunity knocks you have to open the door. And open I did to one trip after the other.

I started out in Topsail Beach, N.C. with my girls –Ebonita Esperanza and Bella Jean-Pierre – the first weekend. Our mini vacation was completely carefree and relaxing. We spent time at a beach house owned by EE’s grandmother. Life was good. The ocean was our personal playground each day. We even took a river boat cruise. Of course no one wanted to return back to regular life. I barely had time to adjust before leaving for another trip.

West Palm Beach was the next destination the following weekend for my family reunion. I sung the whole trip down, despite Ma Duke’s annoyance. Days and nights were devoted to family bonding. Activities included a meet and greet that first day, singing karaoke in a Spanish bar the second and visiting our foreparents' gravesite the third. Once the family fun ended it was time to go home.

However my return home was short lived before heading to my favorite vacation spot, Baltimore, M.D. July 1. The fantastic Cee and her family are always so welcoming for my every trip (which has become a habit). We made a list of things to do, including watching “Pretty Woman” (which I had never seen), getting gelato and going on a scavenger hunt (my team won). Best of all we played Buzz the Hollywood Quiz for hours on end. Seriously, that game is addictive. Unfortunately all good things must end, and back to Lake City I went Tuesday.

At least until I get some more vacation time.

I enjoyed each of my trips and didn’t want to leave when the time came, but it does feel good to be back home. Sometimes you just want to lie in your own bed with your stuffed Eeyore and Snuggles. And I think all that back-to-back traveling tired me out. I’m not up to any traveling except for one place this weekend – my bed. Well there and work. I’ll go back to traveling after my vacation time resets in August. I already have a spot in mind. Next destination – Miami!

The Family Rules

2011-06-22T23:00:00.001-04:00

Think I could write a book of reunion survival tips?

It’s family reunion time! This weekend yours truly is kickin’ it with the kin for the annual Lawson Family Reunion. We’ve been going strong for five years now. Yes, our reunion gatherings are fairly young, but momentum continues to build. The reunions have been in a variety of places including Belle Glade, Jacksonville, Atlanta and Orlando. This year we’re heading to West Palm Beach.

Family gatherings are always a joyous occasion for me. What’s not to enjoy? You’re together with all your family. The family elders talk about the past. The young folks talk about the present. The babies dream about the future. Family love is just all over the place.

There might be some people that find family gatherings less than appealing. Well no need to fear. If you’re headed to a family gathering anytime soon, I have a few survival rules to make the day as entertaining as possible.

1. Prepare funny responses to annoying questions and comments from family members, particularly Grandpa Buford, who you haven’t seen or talked to recently. If he asks, “When are you getting married?” just respond, “Never. I want to be a cat lady.” Then start meowing and rubbing your imaginary cat. This works if you’re a male or female.

2. When Uncle Buster starts telling you the stories from back in 1902 begin singing every last word of the sentence. He’ll look at you crazy, stop sharing and go tell Cousin Bridgette instead.

3. Do not, I repeat, do not eat anything cooked by Aunt Bessie who lives alone with two cats, three dogs, a ferret and a snake. They probably helped in the preparation process because she considers them her children. If she asks why you aren’t eating her runny potato salad, start asking to see pictures of her “babies.” She’ll forget all about it.

4. Once Cousin Bob and his new flavor of the month, Beatrice, start to argue, immediately find Grandma Bertha. Then grab a bag of popcorn to watch the fireworks that are sure to come when she gets to fussing at everyone. For some extra cash, pre-sell tickets to the upcoming fight of the century.
Ok maybe none of this takes place at your family gatherings. But just in case it does, you’ll be prepared.
*Disclaimer: Try at your own risk. I assume no responsibility for your family putting you in a jacket that makes you hug yourself all day.*

Chatting with Grandma

2011-06-16T00:00:00.006-04:00

One of my favorite columns to read on a daily basis is Dear Abby. People have so many interesting issues, and I just love to read about them. A column on Sunday piqued my interest because it was about grandparents, particularly grandmothers.

The writer, who is from Florida, wrote that family members don’t call her grandmother because she talks too much. Apparently Granny is a Chatty Cathy and enjoys two-hour conversations. The writer is the only one willing to call, so relatives send messages about their lives through her. Unfortunately, she is also tired of the conversations. Poor Granny is oblivious to why they won’t call and told her she’s the only one that cares.

Abby essentially said to tell the grandmother the others don’t call because of her lengthy conversations. She said telling her so wouldn’t be cruel but really doing Granny a favor. Abby also encouraged telling the grandmother to get out and meet other people so she could talk to them.

The whole question and answer for this so-called issue annoyed me. Grandparents are my favorite things. How can you not like talking to them? I all but lived with my maternal grandparents, my two favorite people in the world. Most of my fondest childhood memories are from spending time with them. I went to church conventions with my granny, learned to read from my granddaddy and lived every child’s dream of having awesome grandparents.

I wasn’t as close initially with my paternal grandparents, but over time that changed. Grandma Pearl is my only grandparent still alive. I used to think she was mean, until I started to really pay attention to what irked her (other people in the family). Her remarks to them and about them were hilarious. Soon every encounter with Grandma Pearl, especially when she was fussing at someone else, became a memorable experience. Since college I’ve made sure to visit her every time I’m home. Our conversations are probably two hours at a minimum (I like to talk and she does too).

Perhaps since I had close relationship with my grandparents I can’t understand why someone wouldn’t enjoy talking to theirs for hours. Don't want Granny to dominate conversation? Then contribute a little more. You only get grandparents for so long in life. How hard is it just to map out time at least once a month for your family elders?

There were things about all my grandparents that irritated me, but nothing strong enough to keep me from wanting to talk to them. Sure a phone call or visit might require a packed lunch or two, but it’s a small price to pay for quality time with a loved one. I would give anything to have my grandparents back, because you truly miss them when they’re gone. Maybe, just maybe, if those family members called a little more regularly Granny would reduce her talk time.

A true story

2011-06-08T21:41:00.000-04:00

Jennie and Winnie: Will they be cool after this movie?

It is my desire to become a famous writer. The world will read my works and want to know more about the great mind behind them. Hollywood will then create a biopic about my life. Hopefully, if I’m still alive, they consult me. Who knows my story better than me, right? Then again I might forget details, embellish others and want anything bad not included. Perhaps that is the reason Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, ex-wife of former South African President Nelson Mandela, was not consulted for her upcoming biopic.

A few months ago it was announced Jennifer Hudson would play the starring role in a movie about Mandela. Unfortunately one person crying foul is the main character herself. Mandela said she will not support the movie, according to CNN. She feels it is an insult to make a movie about her life without consulting her, especially since she’s alive. Hudson wanted to meet Mandela, according to her reps, but the movie producers thought it was a bad idea. I can see where Mandela is coming from on one hand. It’s her life, and she should have some say on how it’s translated on the big screen. But they might tell a much better story without her input.

One of the best profiles ever written was “Frank Sinatra has a cold” by Gay Talese published in 1966 by Esquire Magazine. I read it in my college literary journalism class, and the story is phenomenal. It felt like I was a fly on the wall during Sinatra’s daily life. It is interesting to note Sinatra refused to be interviewed for the profile. Talese instead spent several months observing Sinatra’s actions and talking to members of his entourage. The final product is considered the greatest profile about Sinatra and one of the best pieces of magazine journalism. And it was made all without Sinatra’s consent.

As a writer, I interview people on a daily basis for their stories. Often they want to read the final draft before it’s published. The answer is no, but I do fact check. Most newspaper and magazines don’t let sources preview a story. It creates a lot of headaches because they ultimately want to change every single detail. It also eliminates the journalistic integrity of the article. My job is to gather the facts and tell the story accurately as a neutral observer. Not write what will make the source look amazing.

Mandela should wait to see the movie before giving her blessing or curse. At the very least the producers know enough to gather the correct facts for conveying the story. Hopefully, they will tell her true story, not the romanticized version. That’s the way any story should be told.

See my vision

2011-06-05T21:42:00.001-04:00

“Don't get too influenced by one person's opinion. You might as well look within yourself and get influenced by your gut instinct.” ¬– author unknown

My life is an open book to my circle of friends. They hear about almost everything in my professional and personal life – the good, bad or in-between. Talking is my specialty, and I am all too happy to tell my stories. Unfortunately I have learned sometimes you can’t share your vision with certain people, even if they are close friends.

I’m trying to focus my life in a new direction, and a conversation about my plans with one friend felt somewhat discouraging. It was as if I was on trial and had to defend my particular choice. Her intent was probably not to bring me down. She said she was just trying to help me make the right decision. I appreciated the concern, but not really the delivery. I did my research to determine the best route for me, and didn’t just come up with a random plan from the sky. She forgot we are two unique people with different expectations for our lives. Her standards, while great for her, are not necessarily in line with what I am seeking. Still I was second guessing myself after our conversation.

I mentioned my newly formed doubts to the fantastic Cee and Ma Dukes, and they reassured me about my plans. Both echoed the sentiment that everyone can’t always see the vision you have for yourself. Their opinions might plant seeds of doubt, and what they think is helping is really hurting. I told my friend my plans to receive encouragement, not hear her opinion. Ultimately the direction I take is my decision. I have to experience my life for myself.

It should be everyone’s goal to support a friend’s path, (unless it’s illegal and destructive behavior). You might not think their plans are the best choice, but who are you to rain on their parade? As much as you might know about your friends, I am pretty sure they know themselves better.

The vision I have for my life is ever evolving as I grow as a person. There will be ups and downs, which I will share with my friends. But I’ll keep the overall vision to myself if someone can’t see it with me.

pay it forward

2011-06-02T00:00:00.002-04:00

I tend to lose things a lot, namely my keys. Usually my keys are hidden by the paper monster at my desk. Paperwork has a way of covering everything in sight. I blurt out nearly every day, "Where are my keys?"

Once I thought cats stole my keys. In my defense, there is a red band attached to the keys. It's a known fact, according to the "Cat Who Series" by Lillian Jackson Braun, that cats sense and like the color red. I assumed I dropped my keys unaware outside and the cats snatched them up. It turns out my keys were behind a box. But I digress.

Most things I "lose" are never really lost (except for maybe my mind, but that's a story for another day). Quite naturally I didn't think too much of it when I noticed my wallet was missing. I had it on Friday, but somewhere between the Chinese restaurant and my house it disappeared. It didn't bother me too much because I had my driver's license and debit card in my purse (I lose debit cards a lot too). The only thing in the wallet was my business cards, library cards and college ID. I thought the missing wallet was yet another item I left at my parents’ house. Imagine my surprise when I got a call at work from a woman saying she found my wallet. What? I really did lose it?

She and her husband found my wallet on the ground and tracked me down via my business cards (I knew there was a reason I keep those handy). I profusely thanked them for finding my wallet and offering to mail it to me. The husband merely said it was their good deed of the week.

It's nice to know people are willing to do good in this world, despite all the bad we see. Doing good should also spark a chain reaction in others. I have been inspired to pay it forward and perform a random act of kindness for someone else. Making someone's day doesn't require much effort. For me it was as simple as someone saying they found my wallet and sending it to me. Perhaps I can do a good deed by giving someone a latch to keep their keys handy. Maybe others won't have to worry about losing their keys to the paper monster too.

The fruitocalypse

2011-05-25T21:29:00.000-04:00

Prunes and raisins have joined forces for a worldwide takeover. At least in my mind. Therefore I don’t trust them. How can you? Both are pretentious pieces of fruits.

First and foremost prunes and raisins think I’m stupid and don’t know their origins: a dried plum for prunes and a dried grape for raisins. That in itself makes me raise an eyebrow. Changing your name to hide your identity is a no-no in my world, at least regarding fruits. It means you’re too good for your past. If you’re too good for that, what else are you too good for? Other dried fruits – such as peaches, oranges and apples – don’t change their names, but such is not the case for prunes and raisins.

There can only be one reason for this name change: World domination. Attack of the killer tomatoes will have nothing on the prune and raisin revolution. And no, the revolution will not be televised because the deranged fruits will attack the camera men. The whole drying process messed up their brains. Now both have become disgustingly evil.

Anyone who has ever eaten a prune or a raisin will be singled out for annihilation. After all you were limiting their numbers. I shudder to think of the despair the revolution will bring. The world’s only opportunity for survival is me. That’s right; I’m doing my part to lead the resistance by making sure no one eats either fruit. I like the originals anyway. Food remixes are just not for me (yes pickles, I’m looking at you too).

Do not assume these two fruits are mild-mannered and easy going. That’s how they get your guard down. “Oh I’ll just pop a nice little raisin into my mouth,” you say. “Attack from within,” says the prunes and raisins. Fight the impulse to eat them if you come into contact with either one. No good can come from eating a prune, despite what Granny and Granddaddy say. Only the runs. And raisins are a choking hazard waiting to happen. Take it from a person who choked on a tic-tac. Those dissolve quickly. Not raisins.

Take this message to heart, people. We survived the non-rapture May 21. There will be no survival of the fruitocalypse if you don’t think, and eat, smart.

Lazy post

2011-05-18T23:59:00.004-04:00

My mother bought me “The Children’s Book of Virtues” when I was but a wee lass. One of my favorite poems in the book was “I Meant To Do My Work Today” by Richard LeGallienne:

I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand,
So what could I do but laugh and go?

Nice as that poem was, using that excuse in school will get you a big fat goose egg on an assignment. Good thing this is my personal writing post and not an assignment. Just before the clock strikes midnight and Writing Wednesday ends, I present an original poem:

I meant to do my post today
But a zombie was thrown from a tree
And an ambush was waiting in the field
And my roommates watched Zombieland with me.
And all in the scary Zombieland
Tossing zombies was a hobby to and fro
And I had to watch how the group joined hand in hand
So writing a post was just a no go.

Seriously, check out Zombieland. It’s a great movie.

Do I know you?

2011-05-11T21:57:00.000-04:00

I might need this t-shirt.

Just when you think you know a person, you realize you don’t. Or is that just the case for me? I am perhaps the worst friend, family member, whatever in the history of mankind. I don’t know anything about anyone. This revelation came to me Mother’s Day weekend.

I was hanging with @Diva_luvfeva at her house when I noticed some artwork on the wall. “Oh, I love that painting,” I said. “Thanks. I painted it,” she replied. “I also painted several others in the house.” You could have just knocked me over with a feather. Apparently she is quite the artist. There are canvases, paints and more in the house ready to create her next masterpiece. “OMG I feel like I don’t even know you,” I said. “What else don’t I know?” Honestly, I never, ever, ever knew she liked to paint. I don’t remember her mentioning it or anything. I’d like to think I have a pretty good memory about most things. Not this. Our families have known each other before we were even thought of, but I didn't know that one important tidbit about her. I. AM. HORRIBLE. And it gets worse.

@Ceetastic and I talked about a Mother’s Day brunch she attended later that day. Mothers and daughters played a variation of The Newlywed Game and had to answer several questions such as favorite color, favorite movie, favorite holiday, favorite food and childhood best friend. Passing would not have been an option for me. I don’t know any of these things about my mother. I definitely don’t know most of the answers for my friends. I don’t even know for myself on some. What do I know?

Obviously I don’t pay enough attention to detail when it comes to the ones I love and care about. Maybe if I did it wouldn’t be so hard to figure out gifts for them. Spending enough time with a person should eventually clue you in to things about them. The key is to actively listen and observe. Everyone knows what I like because I’m pretty vocal about my interests. Am I really taking the time to get to know family and friends and their interests or do I dominant talking about me? Relationships, be it family or friends, should not be one-sided. One person should not always be in the forefront. It’s a wonder they still tolerate me.

It seems like I’ve got some catching up to do in realizing just who people are. The first step will be sending out copies of those questions. Who knows when that information may come in handy? The next is to do a better job of really tuning into them.

Just in case anyone wants to know my answers: favorite color – orange; favorite holiday – Thanksgiving; favorite movie – Coming to America/Harlem Nights; favorite food – unknown, perhaps pancakes; childhood best friend – Ashley Riley/ @Diva_LuvFeva.

wedding bell blues

2011-05-05T00:54:00.002-04:00

Too often I seem to operate in a false sense of reality. Why else would I start stressing over my non- existent wedding? The reality of the situation is I DON’T EVEN HAVE A BOYFRIEND! There is no fiancée, beau or a summer time crush. Nothing! Yet somehow I got caught up in wedding bells … again.

I blame Google. It has a newish wedding planning feature. Being ever the inquisitive soul I had to check it out. Mistake number one. I should have been reading one of the million books in my house. Instead I’ve been making up a bridal party list, researching wedding etiquette and trying to pinpoint a budget.

I told my Fan Club Pres I was about to have a nervous breakdown because of all the wedding planning. His response was, “I thought it was something serious! I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to disown you and your planning a pretend wedding. Do better.”

There is so much to coordinate. It’s going to take me a good three years to make decent progress in the planning. If I start now, most of it will be done by the time I really get engaged. But will all my hard work get changed if I add a fiancé to the mix? What if he’s not feeling the story book/ newspaper theme? What if he wants to jump the broom? Will I have to compromise my big day?

Then again, isn’t marriage about compromise (along with communication, commitment and Christ)? And it shouldn’t just be about the bride. It will be OUR big day. We are joining together as one (tear). This much I know, I am having a DIY wedding. We are not spending a penny over $10,000. That includes everything: dress, food, and honeymoon. I want a celebration, not a trip to the poor house.

It remains to be seen if I indeed get married. Some days I’m all gung-ho for it. Most others I could care less. Perhaps I should hold off the wedding planning for now. The 50 million itemized checklist of things to do has turned me off the concept anyway. I think I just want to plan something small that includes cake, like a birthday celebration. Birthday parties are a whole lot less stressful.

May memories

2011-05-04T22:04:00.001-04:00

Bring on the cake because it’s time to celebrate. At least it is for me. Big things happened this first week of May many years ago. It is only fitting and proper I share them with you.
My beloved granddaddy was born May 4, 1916. He would have been 95-years-old. Unfortunately he died Father’s Day in 1997, but I was able to enjoy him for a good 12 years.

Granddaddy introduced me to the joys of watching wrestling, eating honey suckles straight from the vines and being a member of the Bug Zappers Club (an elite society). I remember how he used to always make and eat carrot salad. Yuck! I love Granddaddy, but to this day I still hate that dish. Mayonnaise, raisins and carrots do not belong together.

Many a day after school I would hear him calling out my favorite nickname (10 points for knowing it). Daycare for me consisted of hanging with grandparents. No wonder I was spoiled rotten. I wasn’t his first grandchild (who is that?) or his last (my brother), but I was definitely in the Fave Five. Although I miss him dearly, his memory is always inside of me.

Also, yours truly (and the fantastic Cee) graduated from the wonderful University of Florida May 5, 2007. It’s great to be a Florida Gator and even greater to be a Gator grad.

College was an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. How can I forget walking through McDonald’s drive-thru at 2 a.m. with three other random strangers? You can’t just make things like that up. You have to live it.

My history of journalism class introduced me to the work of one of my favorite authors, Carl Hiaasen. I learned how to grow tomatoes in world herbs and vegetables. If nothing else, college helped solidify my career ambitions. There’s nothing like working full-time as a newspaper intern, for free, to help you realize your calling.

Some days working and playing in the real world makes me nostalgic for those carefree college days. I really had it made back then. The only jobs I had to worry about were being a student full-time, working in the art museum gift shop part-time and taking care of my first betta fish, Vendy.

Let’s pop some ginger ale (not a champagne drinker here) and raise a toast for my May memories. Here’s to good times of the past.

Rules for survival

2011-04-27T22:59:00.001-04:00

Watching horror movies is all well and good – until it becomes real. It seemed like I was a character straight out of Scream for a split second. I’m glad it wasn’t a scene from a movie because I would probably have died. Some friends and I went to see Scream 4 Saturday evening. It was thoroughly entertaining and kept me guessing about the killer. We parted ways after the movie and dinner, but that’s where the trouble began. Horror movie rule no. 1: Never split up.

The bathroom was my first stop during a detour to Walmart. It was in a secluded area of the store, but I didn’t think too much about it. Horror movie rule no. 2: Never go to a secluded area, especially if its dark and you’re alone. No one was in the restroom, but a store associate came in later. While washing my hands she completely bypassed the sinks and left. “Ewww, she didn’t wash her hands,” I thought. I scrubbed mine an extra 30 seconds to atone for her uncouth habit.

Before leaving the bathroom, I grabbed a paper towel to open the door (because the associate didn’t wash her hands). Strangely the door wouldn’t open. That couldn’t be right, so I tried opening it again. Nothing! A closer look revealed the door was locked. The panic began. “Oh no! Ghostface is going to get me,” I said. Horror movie rule no. 3: Don’t panic because it will impact your thinking in a negative way.

There had to be a place to hide safely or a window to escape through. No such luck. Walmart wanted me to die. I panicked again and started pulling on the door with a passion. Dying was not on the agenda for the night. Finally the door started to open, but I froze. What if Ghostface was on the other side of the door waiting to slice open my neck and cut my guts out? I almost scampered away before noticing it was a manager at the door. The associate told her no one else was in the bathroom. Apparently the sinks and I were invisible. I was saved. Or was I? Horror movie rule no. 4: Don’t relax because that’s when you’re in the most danger.

Actually nothing else happened after that. I survived! Granted, I am still a little traumatized. I will never look at a Walmart bathroom the same again. Hopefully there isn’t a sequel to “Supermarket Lock-in.” But I’m ready just in case. Horror movie rule no. 5: Make sure you know the rules to survive a horror movie.

An introduction to Hambone

2011-04-20T22:31:00.003-04:00

Coming soon to a bookstore near you is the one and only Hambone Fisher, age 5. Hambone is my child-like alter ego. He emerged at McAlister’s Deli during its Christmas coloring contest last year. I wanted to enter, but the store discriminated against adults. Thus Hambone Fisher was born. He’s sort of taken a life of his own.

Hambone colored a beautiful picture but unfortunately did not win the contest. However, he didn’t let that get him down. Instead he colored an assortment of pictures for random people to hone his skills. That led to him entering a coloring contest this week sponsored by the Lake City Reporter. He was actually a contender for that one (until someone revealed his origins). That’s OK. He’ll just find another contest to enter. Eventually Hambone is going to win.

I plan on keeping Hambone around for awhile, mainly to turn him into a children’s book series: “The Misadventures of Hambone Fisher, Age 5.” Easier said than done. Clearly some character development is required for Hambone to make this a legitimate project. So far I know Hambone is a precocious, talkative 5-year-old. He likes to color, is very imaginative (sometimes he exaggerates) and can be strong-willed at times.

No his real name isn’t Hambone. It’s Henry James Fisher, but he is southern bred and born. Everyone goes by a nickname in these parts. His family consists of his older brother, Pork Chop Fisher, and his parents, Mommie and Daddy (real names coming for them later). His misadventures will include everything from coloring contests capers to dealing with a crush on an older woman (the babysitter). Each misadventure will have an important lesson to learn. But I have to finish crafting the character before I start writing story plots.

Working on Hambone made me realize it requires a lot of thought to create a fictional character. I can write a news article with no problems. Fiction writing, on the other hand, is quite challenging. It’s all from my imagination instead of just the facts. No matter what, I will make Hambone happen. Right now his series is a work in process, but he’s always available to supply anyone with a picture.

A new battle raging

2011-04-13T23:55:00.004-04:00

Not too long ago Ma Dukes and I began an epic battle. We were at war – a cook war. There have been many discrepancies over the years about my culinary skills. She thinks I lack skill. Just because I don’t like to cook, doesn’t mean I can’t cook. Mother Dear said she is quite the mistress of the kitchen. She hardly ever cooks. I wanted to know what evidence she based that idea on.
Clearly, I am the better chef (or so I’d like to think). Mommy Dearest seemed to think otherwise (sometimes she’s a bit delusional). A cook war was proposed to settle our disagreements. We would vie for the title of top chef in the family. At least for the women. My father and brother are really good cooks. Really. Really. Good. At any rate this shouldn’t have been much of a contest. The food would determine the truth.

It was on like Donkey Kong from that point on. Each week we crafted one culinary masterpiece after the other. We talked smack, took photos and even occasionally had taste testers. Both sides boasted of making the best dish for a week. However, it was all quite arbitrary. I had my camp, and Ma Dukes had hers. The only way to really determine a winner was to have unbiased judging. We would cook a dish for a big family event. The best dish would win the cook war.

Unfortunately, that didn’t quite ever happen. We just never really planned a date and time. There was talk of submitting a dish for a few family events, but nothing was set in stone. Eventually the fight and the fury over the cook war died down. Until now.

That’s right Mother. I am calling you out – again. The cook war is back on! The previous battles were just warm-ups. I am ready to finish this war once and for all. Name the time, the date and the place and I will smoke you like a turkey leg with a side of sweet potato soufflé, spinach berry salad and rum cake, topped off with my mock champagne. Now it’s time to bring it, because it has been brought.

a friend like me

2011-04-11T14:41:00.001-04:00

You know how some guys are a man’s man? Women want him. Men want to be like or him and be his friend. I’d like to think I’m a woman’s woman. Ambitious much? Perhaps, but people seem to genuinely like me. I’m fairly charming and down-to-earth. For the most part I can get along with anyone, especially if they look like me. To me it’s not that hard to be friendly with people. It always confuses me when I hear someone say they aren’t friends with a certain group.

Recently I came across an article on Clutch Magazine and the author wrote she doesn’t have any black female friends. Some of it stems from instances of childhood bullies. Her statement is nothing new. Essence Magazine had a feature story a year or so ago about black women and how we can't get along with each other. While in college I often heard other women say. “Oh I can’t get along with other women,” or “I just click better with men. Women are too this, that and the other.” Aren’t you a woman too? So does that mean you can’t get along with yourself?

Many of my friendships just started with me randomly talking to a person, black or otherwise. I tend to like everyone unless they give me a reason to feel otherwise. Sure, I’ve had my share of not-so-friendly black girls during my childhood. That simply turned me off to those particular people, not black women as a whole. Every black woman is not catty, rude or untrustworthy. The writer of the Clutch article mentioned she felt threatened and overwhelmed around other black women. She does have friends, just not black ones.

It’s funny how I never really hear men saying they can’t get along with each other or feel threatened by another man. I’d like to think I’m a hot commodity in the friendship arena. Who wouldn’t want to be my friend? I have a lot to bring to the table, mainly my quirky personality. Maybe it’s me. I just attract people easily. Being a woman’s woman is not for everyone. However if you choose to avoid possible friendships due to insecurity, then maybe it’s you.

A time to assert

2011-04-09T19:01:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I can be passive in addressing a situation. I’m not a doormat that allows people to walk all over me. Yet I often let people get away with saying or doing certain things that thoroughly irk me such as touching my hair, getting in my personal space or mispronouncing my name.

One of my biggest pet peeves is people insulting my job. It amazes me how people will insult where I work to my face while shaking my hand and smiling. Usually I let it slide, much like I do with everything else. Now I’m starting to see the power in asserting myself. I blame the heat. My irritable personality syndrome starts flaring up when it gets warm. Saturday was just too hot to put up with an insult, even if it was a joke.

A regular smack talker about my job saw me and said the usually jab. This time I called him out on it.

“Sir, I don’t insult where you work and would appreciate if you showed the same courtesy to me,” I said.

“Oh I’m just joking Miss Reporter lady,” he replied. “I’m not talking about you personally.”

“Yeah, well when you say things like that I take it personal, and it doesn’t help motivate me in my work.”

Apparently he felt really bad after our little exchange and thought I was upset (more like annoyed from the heat). He apologized for past insults and vowed to not say them to me anymore. I should have thrown a few tears in for good measures to make him feel even worse (just kidding).

It felt good to finally stand up for myself. Why is it so hard to do that all the time? Perhaps it’s because I think the issues might seem minor to most people. Why bother getting into a tizzy over something small? But what might seem minor to someone else could be major to you. Besides a person might not genuinely know they’re doing something wrong much. Ignorance is bliss but knowledge is power. It is my duty to speak up when things bother me. If I don’t stand up and assert myself for me, neither can anyone else.

I scream

2011-04-06T23:59:00.007-04:00

Do you like scary movies? I’m not normally a fan of them, but there is something about the upcoming “Scream 4” that is calling to me. Sure I didn’t see all of 2 and skipped 3 completely. I’ll play catch-up with the Cliff notes version (thank you Wikipedia).

I saw the trailer for “Scream 4” and immediately decided to see it. It’s been a while since I viewed a good old-fashion scary film. They just don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Just give me a deranged psychopath with a giant butcher knife. All my excitement for “Scream 4” made me think about some of my favorite scary movies.

Carrie
My daddy likes to occasionally imitate the crazy mother in Carrie and say, “They’re going to laugh at you.” I saw the movie and loved it. Read the book and loved it. Saw the movie again and screamed when the arm popped out of the grave.

Saw
Some crazy man is going around and making people solve impossibly hard puzzles. Not cool. I HATE puzzles. I would just die. Sort of like everyone else. My nerves are too bad to watch the sequels.

Tales From The Hood
The movie features several segments with strange happenings. There are killer dolls in one segment. KILLER. DOLLS! I didn’t trust any of my dolls for a while.

From Dusk ‘Til Dawn
It’s not as scary as the rest but still made me scream (not a hard task). It did have vampires. Also, I fell in love with George Clooney watching this movie.

The Ring
My first viewing was in broad daylight with my little brother. I still screamed during most of it. Children are already scary. Evil ones are 10 times scarier.

Bones
Snoop Dog. Pam Grier. A vengeful pimped out ghost. What’s not to love? I screamed more than once watching Bones.

Any of the Final Destinations
Every time I see one of these movies, I end up afraid to breathe. It’s not safe anywhere. I can only watch a Final Destination film with a group of people. And we all have to stay close.

Now who’s coming to see “Scream 4” with me? I don’t scream alone.

The END!

2011-03-31T22:47:00.004-04:00

Well folks, it’s been real. All good things must come to an end. I’m done with the daily posting. The beginning of April completes my dry run of National Blog Posting Month. It’s been an interesting experience. I started a day late at the urgings of Cee but kept it up. I thought this would be a hard challenge to undertake but really got into it. Several times I posted after midnight, thus dating the entry for the next day. Also I skipped a few days for no real reason other than laziness.

Initially it seemed creating daily topics would be the hard part. Apparently my head is filled with random writing material. I also set a limit of how much to write. Using only about 365 words wasn’t always an easy task. There was so much more of my colorful commentary I wanted to incorporate. I felt some posts lacked my certain style due to the length. However, the limit also kept me from rambling. I got to the point quicker. There is hope for my quest to be a columnista after all.

I hope my fan club of four enjoyed my posts during this time. Every post was not award worthy, but I did enjoy writing each one. My favorites were “A lesson in limericks,” “Name that identity” and “The mum of all fears.”

The officially National Blog Post Month is November. I plan to participate and step-up my game a notch. The goal is to continue to stick with a word limit. Perhaps it will increase to 365-500. Also I want to post earlier. No more 11:59 p.m. postings. Blogger marks it as 12:00 a.m. by the time it uploads. And maybe, just maybe, I will write about something other than me. Then again this isn’t called the Antonia Chronicles just for kicks and giggles.

Posts will come a lot less frequently now, but don’t fret. I will write at least twice a week: One for Writing Wednesday and another random day. I still have a few topics my muse is ready to unleash. Inspiration is often loss if I delay writing. For now my journey in writing for NaBloPoMo is complete.

The age of lying

2011-03-31T22:33:00.002-04:00

It always amazes me when people, women especially, don’t want to reveal their age. Ask some women their ages and they will nervously laugh and giggle your question away. Others will straight up say, “It’s none of your business.” If you don’t want to share it, well then fine by me. But I consider it even crazier to just lie about it. Why even bother to say anything?

I posted Thursday on Twitter about an exchange I had with a woman recently. She is older and someone I thought might be a good mentor. During the conversation I said I was 26. She responded, “I’m younger than you.” I had to ask, “You’re 25?” It wasn’t because I believed her. Not too many 25-year-olds have children that are sophomores in college or even in middle school. She must have popped out babies in pre-school. The woman then admitted she has been lying about her age for so long she doesn’t remember what it actually is. “I’m going to be 25 forever,” she said. I was at a loss for words. If you’re going to lie about your age, at least pick a number that’s a lot more believable.

Several of my friends have expressed not wanting to ever grow old. I wonder if one day they will lie about their ages. I could probably get away with saying I’m 21-25, but I am enjoying 26. But unlike Jay-Z, I don’t want to be forever young. Do you know how many stupid things I did during 25 and below? Age should bring wisdom. I feel a little wiser with each year.

Lying about your age might not seem serious things to some people, but it demonstrates insecurity to me. You feel lying is necessary for acceptance. Perhaps you didn’t accomplish certain goals in your younger years and finally did. Maybe you alter your age to get kudos from others. I tweeted, “Saying you are 25 when you are 35 is not going to turn back the hands of time.” Thirty is not the new 20. It’s still the same 30. A wise person knows you must embrace your age. At least I know that at 26.

The mum of all fears

2011-03-30T23:56:00.004-04:00

There are just some things you don’t do to your parents. Talking back is a big no-no of course. It’s also against the child rules to not obey them. Perhaps the worst thing possible is hitting your parents. I read this report on AP News Tuesday:

FORT MYERS, Fla. — Authorities in southwest Florida say a 17-year-old girl pointed a gun at her mother, pistol-whipped her and forced her to drive to a dealership to buy her a used car.
The sheriff's office in Lee County said Monday that the teen has been charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon without intent to kill, among other counts, and was being held at a juvenile detention center. The Associated Press doesn't identify minors charged with juvenile crimes.
According to officials, the mother said she didn't want to press charges because her daughter had been accepted to several Ivy League schools.
Authorities said they decided to arrest the teenager after learning that the gun had been stolen last year. The teen was not charged in that crime.

Stop the presses! Who does that? Who pistol-whips their mama for a car? Better yet, what parents allow their children to even pistol-whip them? There is something extremely wrong with the children of today. They have no type of respect for their parents. Actually, forget respect. They don’t have the fear.

The fear makes me flinch if I even think about saying a curse word around my parents. The fear keeps me respectful to them. Furthermore the fear keeps me from rolling up on one of my parents like that girl. The fear hasn’t diminished in 26 years. It just gets stronger. I am still scared of what my parents might do to me, especially my mother. Whereas my daddy might yell about something, she would probably knock me out. I can picture it now. Ma Dukes says something I don’t like and I roll my eyes. The next thing you know, I’m being rolled into a hospital with no eyes.

That girl’s mother did not instill the fear. She might want to start now by pressing charges. Big Shirley in lockdown will definitely teach her the fear.

a list look

2011-03-29T23:57:00.003-04:00

Sometimes lists can be a beneficial tool to help you discover things to experience before death. There’s a list of places to see, foods to eat and even things to do all before your name is called up yonder. It might seem a bit morbid, but imagine how much a person would miss out on without the guidance of these lists. Recently my friend Cee and I were talking about books. She mentioned the list of 1,001 books you must read before dying. The list is split up into time periods with the largest cluster from the 1900s.

At first thought it seemed like a decent list to follow. Quite a few of the books I can already check off from a combination of required readings from school and an overall interest in the written word. There are also several books I have yet to never but know the basic premise thanks to Wikipedia and Cliffnotes (I have a fondness for spoilers). That still leaves at least more than 900 books to go on the list.

Reading that many books before dying is quite a lofty goal. This is something I should have started the day I learned how to read. I’m not a spring chicken anymore. It would take me almost 20 years to finish that list if I read one book a week. Somewhere in there I would have to find the time to read other books not on the list.

I’m not too sure I will complete the list. Most of those books don’t even appeal to me. Perhaps I am narrow-minded, but I read what I like. There are only two books out of 69 on the list from the 2000s I am even remotely interested in reading, “Middlesex” and "The Human Stain." I feel like I know “Robinson Crusoe” so well that I’ll probably never pick it up. And I know “The 120 Days of Sodom” is not for me in the least. Life is too short to read books that don’t interest me. There are too many others to read. The same goes for trying things from those other lists. I’ll simply compile a list of books I want to read before dying.

Liquor is quicker

2011-03-29T00:57:00.003-04:00

It’s happening again. The dreaded yuckies are attacking me. But I refuse to let a cold bring me down. Not too long ago it seemed like I was sick for a year. Actually it was just November and half of December. I exaggerate sometimes. Normally I’m never sick for more than a few days each month – blame my week immune system - but something got a hold of me back then an wouldn’t let go, and I don’t mean the Holy Ghost.

It took a while for me to realize I wasn’t getting better after my first week. I tried Benadryl, Sudafed, Nightquil and two bottles of Robitussin. I drunk tea with honey by the pound and went through 10 boxes of tissues. The sickness still lingered. Finally I gave up and went to the doctor who diagnosed me with bronchitis. I got a prescription for Amoxicillin and thought everything would be cleared up by the time the bottle ran out. Wrong! I continued coughing like death was right around the corner. The constant runny nose and overall feeling of fatigue would not leave.

I went back to the doctor and he prescribed a Z-Pack which finally got the job done. Apparently, all of that could have been avoided if I had listened to old school remedies. Not the mustard plaster and garlic in the shoe my mother is always talking about (Voodoo). Or Father John – which tastes like death - my daddy champions. I’m breaking out alcohol, lemon juice and honey.

I heard so many variants of that remedy while sick. Some said use gin. Others prescribed whiskey. I’ve even heard vodka. I guess which alcohol is used doesn’t really matter. The point is it will knock you out and knock out whatever you have in the process. Getting drunk is the answer to sickness per the old folks. And you thought Grandma kept that Captain Morgan around just for rum cakes.

I have no fear of becoming a lush. There’s a bottle of vodka and tequila from about two years ago still in the bar. Maybe instead of reaching for that pack of Theraflu, I’ll try the bar. Liquor might just be quicker (just kidding).

Au Natural Haters

2011-03-28T23:56:00.006-04:00

There is something so special about natural hair that people just have to hate it. Many think it’s unmanageable, unattractive or unprofessional, and they have no problem sharing those sentiments. People have forgotten the courtesy rule, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”

Six years ago I transitioned from silky straight locks to an afro puff. Most people love my hair, but there are a few haters. Papa Duke is my chief hair hater. He constantly tells me to get a relaxer. One opinion of his is my hair will limit me in the professional world. It hasn’t stopped me yet. A longtime bestie already told me my hair must be straight for her wedding. OK I will straighten it for a day, but it will be twisted back up by the next. They both would prefer I have it bone straight with a bouncy wrap style. No thank you!

My granny and aunt both think my hair hinders my dating appeal. I’m often told I need to do something with my hair if I want to attract anyone. Another bestie shared a guy friend told her no man really likes natural hair. She pointed out a mutual friend with natural hair started straightening it and got a man, thus I need to do the same. In that case sign me up for cat ladyhood. I’m not one to change for other people.

Perhaps the biggest haters come from people at church. One member told me God wasn’t pleased with my hair. I told her God wasn’t pleased with her attitude. Another called my hair was short and nappy compared to my brother’s nice and silky grade. I had cut my hair off in solidarity for him losing his due to chemo. His hair grew back a different texture after treatments. She got the side-eye. Of course there are just the plain old rude ones that say “I don’t like it.” Well good thing it’s on my head and not yours.

I can’t make people accept my natural hair. They can’t make me relax it either. If loving my natural hair is wrong, I refuse to be right. Just keep hating haters.

The Rotten Cousin

2011-03-25T23:47:00.003-04:00

Only one word can describe me as a child: rotten. I was the brat of the family for the longest time. I grew up mainly around my paternal family. Many of us went to the same church or schools and lived close to each other. My rottenness wasn’t to everyone. Oh I could be so sweet and innocent to my grandma, aunts and uncles. It was my cousins who had to deal with all my misdeeds.

Not too long ago I had an in-depth conversation with Ma Dukes about my rotten years. She knew I was pretty terrible as her child, but didn’t know of just how bad my cousins got it from me too. I was the family tattle tale if any of my cousins said or did something I didn’t like. One year at Christmas the big cousins wouldn’t let me play The Game of Life. I whined to our grandma who promptly fussed at them for keeping me out of the game.

There were also two older cousins I always had to bother. I called one stupid all the time and hit another (for no reason other than pure evilness). Only because I was little girl saved me from a few well-deserved beat downs. But I wasn’t mean to all my cousins. A few others just probably thought I was annoying for always following them underfoot.

Ma Dukes said it’s a wonder any of my cousins still talk to me today because of my behavior. It was hard being one of the youngest cousins in a big family. No one takes you seriously (until you kick them). I was just an “innocent” bystander in the cousin hierarchy. Little cousins are supposed to be bad.

Now I’m a big cousin, but most of my little cousins aren’t interested in me. I was away in college while most were born, and they all seem to adore my younger brother. However, they did take revenge for their parents at my graduation party by all jumping on my back. Guess I deserved it. But no one is beating up on me or calling me names. Unlike my older cousins I will fight a rotten little child.

A temperamental tale

2011-03-25T00:27:00.001-04:00

The ancient Greek physician Hippocrates was on to something when he came up with the ancient medical concept of humorism. Essentially he believed a person’s personality was caused by body fluids or humors: blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm. From there sprung up the four temperaments of psychology. The humors were correlated to temperaments: sanguine for blood, melancholic for yellow bile, choleric for black bile and phlegmatic for phlegm.

It was during a leadership conference I first learned of the four temperaments. The presenter in one session had us take a temperament test to see where we fell in the scale. Some were half and half, others were a mix of all four. I was solidly sanguine and couldn’t have been happier. Sanguines are known as extroverts, talkers and optimists. Who wouldn’t want to be that temperament? Plus it sounds a whole lot better than the rest of the lot.

Everyone was grouped into their temperament categories, and the speaker started reading off the strengths and weaknesses. Cholerics are leaders but have type A personalities. Melancholics are deeply thoughtful yet can be perfectionists. Phelegmatics are easy going but can seem unmotivated. Then she got to Sanguines: the people person.

Sanguines are talkative (check), have energy and enthusiasm (double check) and are great storytellers (BINGO). What could possibly be weaknesses of this temperament? Unfortunately a Sanguine is a Compulsive talker (so I talk a lot), has restless energy (is it a crime to want to move around?) and exaggerates and elaborates (OK I might tell a tall tale here or there). When you get right down to it a Sanguine’s strength is also its weakness. I’m my own worst enemy. Oh the horror!

If others point out one of my tragic character flaws – such as forgetting names – I say it’s because of my temperament. But I can’t just chalk up shortcomings to my temperament, despite how much I want to. Knowing your temperament is only good if you not only learn your strengths but work to improve weaknesses. It is up to me to break out of the negative areas of my temperament. I wouldn’t be a sanguine otherwise. We’re known for changeable dispositions anyway.

Blocking the writing flow

2011-03-23T20:42:00.001-04:00

It’s Writing Wednesday. Do you know where your post is? Neither do I. I was hit by the dreaded – dun, dun, dun – writer’s block. It happens. I am only a mere mortal. Sometimes writing for the man takes away my writing creativity and energy. That great idea I had in my head turns out to be not so great once typed up. The last paragraph in a potential post won’t come to me. Or I lack motivation to even write about a particular topic. And writing everyday for National Blog Posting Month has taken all the good ideas.

I used to stare at a blank screen wishing for inspiration to flow from the heavens above into my hands below to cure writer’s block. Unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. Staring gets you nowhere. Instead you have to take more drastic measures. Several different “cures” help with my writer’s block as I’ve discovered over the years.

Reading. Sometimes I’ll read a newspaper, visit a blog or look at old posts of mine. Reading gets your mind off of what you need to write and clears the way for creative inspiration. And remember a good writer is a good reader.

Word Jumble. There is something about having to organize random letters to figure out a word that relaxes my writing muscles. If I’m stressed at work, or lacking inspiration I head to the daily jumble. Plus the accompanying joke is always good for a laugh.

Coloring. There’s a reason I ask Ma Dukes for a coloring book in my Easter baskets. I have an assumed alias named Hambone Fisher (age 5) that colors pictures for people. I’m usually ready to write after Hambone finishes a masterpiece.

Clawdeen Wolf. My Clawdeen Wolf doll sits on my desk waiting for her hair to be styled at a moment’s notice. It’s amazing how inspiring a French braid can be.

Writing. When all else fails, I just write whatever whenever to ease the block. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense, but it gets thoughts out. I make heads and tails of the words once the writer’s block is gone. Much like I did with this post. Perhaps there is method to my madness.

The reader

2011-03-22T23:57:00.004-04:00

Reading has been my favorite hobby since I was a child. It comes in handy for my line of work anyway. I have it on very good authority that most of the best writers are also readers. One of my best friends thinks I’m lame because I spend the majority of my time reading instead of watching TV. I think Grouch Marx said it best, “I find television to be very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go in the other room and read a book.” Mysteries are my preferred genre of choice, but I have been known to throw science fiction, romance or something else in the mix. Here are a few of my favorite authors.

Walter Mosley
I’ve read every book in the Easy Rawlings series, and my favorite is “Black Betty.” One of my goals in life is to have Walter Mosley read a chapter of it aloud to me. Also I have a school girl crush on Easy Rawlings . If only he were real.

Lillian Jackson Braun
She’s probably close to 100 these days and is the author of “The Cat Who” series which features a former reporter, turned millionaire and amateur sleuth. He gets help in solving mysteries from his exceptionally talented Siamese cat. For a while I wanted a Siamese cat because of this series.

Valerie Wilson Wesley
She is my third favorite mystery novelist. Her Tamara Hayle mysteries feature a relatable character who reminds me of my mom, close friends and self. I don’t read her books. I devour them. One does not last a day with me.

Carl Hiassen
He writes “environmental thrillers” which make the reader root for nature. The first book I read by him was “Tourist Season” for my History of Journalism class. It was a page turner, much like all his books. I loved it and have a copy for my library.

Tananarive Due
I never heard of speculative fiction (a branch of sci-fi) until I started reading her books. It’s a hard call, but “The Between” is probably my favorite book by her. She meshes elements of the supernatural with just good old-fashion solid storytelling.

Career Days

2011-03-21T23:37:00.004-04:00

Teacher: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Student: I want to be a ... doctor, ballerina, ninja.

Most children don’t really know what they want to be as adults. Visit an elementary school on career day and students will emphatically pick a certain career this year and something totally different the next. Young Logan probably wanted to be a rich logging tycoon before becoming the beloved X-Men Wolverine. I proclaimed my career choice in fourth grade. To this day I’ve actually stuck with it.

One day my fourth grade teacher, Ms. Brown, made the class write an essay entitled “If I ran away to the circus I would be...” I said the ring master because I loved talking and being the center of attention. I also said I would be a clown to make others laugh (even though I strongly dislike clowns). The essay was forgotten until several weeks later the principal announced in music class it won four tickets to the Ringling Bros. Circus. Apparently our class assignment was part of a citywide radio station contest. Winning that contest sparked something in me: I could write. I declared myself a writer from that moment on and was blessed to have the support of family, friends and school officials.

Folks had me writing for any and every thing after that day. No one was really sure what area of writing I would go into, especially me. Would I write poetry (I’m not that deep), plays (I have writing ADD) or short stories (fiction is hard to make up)? In middle school I decided to be a reporter. Getting a round of applause for my first article in the school paper was a major ego boost. It reinforced my childhood theory, “you get things for writing.”

Here I am 16 years later living my childhood dream as a newspaper writer (an award winning one too). I’m just glad I outgrew my pre-school career choice of a pay-for- lady (a cashier). Children might be fickle in their aspirations now, but encourage them in their quest for finding their dream career. One day they might really just grow up to be that childhood dream.

Deep in Thought

2011-03-20T23:57:00.004-04:00

Draped in all black and wearing a turban, the spoken word artist grabs the microphone with a fury. It is now her turn in the poetry slam. She begins a spoken word piece which parallels the genocide in Darfur to the inner turmoil facing black Americans in the debate of natural versus relaxed hair. The audience is drawn in to every word, nodding to the rhythm that flows so easily from her lips. At the end, fingers come together to snap admiration and approval, and everyone rises to their feet – except for one person. The lone figure in the front that whispered to a friend, “She didn’t even rhyme in this poem.”

Unfortunately I wasn’t blessed with much in the department of street smarts or common sense. Why else would I touch that straightening comb as a child after my grandmother warned me not to? But what I lack in those areas I make up for intellectually, right? After all I went to one of the top middle and high schools for academics. I studied at one of the best state colleges. By all accounts I should be a highly profound intellectual that can pontificate on any subject in the news. Yeah right. Not too long ago it hit me: I am not that deep. Did I even use pontificate correctly? Sometimes I wonder if I’m closer to an idiot than an intellectual. My preferred genre of choice for movies and TV shows is comedy. Instead of playing Sudoku or a cross word puzzle, I stimulate my brain with a word jumble or word search. Is my mind filled with just thoughts of bubblegum and popcorn?

Part of me feels like I wasn’t always this dense. I used to be deep or at least more of an intellectual. The peak time was probably in college. I was surrounded by other learned individuals. Then I graduated and the denseness set in. Or was it always there to begin with? Apparently I need to go pick up a “Deepness for Dummies” book. Then again I could be stressing over nothing. Maybe we aren’t all meant to be philosophers. Perhaps knowing your intellectual limitations is deep in itself.

case not closed

2011-03-20T01:33:00.002-04:00

In a perfect world there would always be closure for a situation. That ex would explain exactly why he dumped you. Your favorite TV series would have an official ending. The bully from middle school would apologize. Unfortunately we live in a world of perfect imperfections. Those fairy tale examples of getting that closure we desire often never occur. Sometimes you have to let go of that pipe dream of perfectly closing the case of emotions spurred by a particular experience. We don’t always get the closure we want.

One of my tragic character flows is holding grudges. I’ve let go most of them, but every now and then I get riled up about an old one that dates back to middle school. I wrote about “The Grudge” in August and will spare rehashing the details. I’m still very bitter about everything that went down between me and she who shall not be named. It’s pretty sad considering that was more than 10 years ago (don’t judge me).

I just want closure. I would like to look back on that time and not feel any ill will toward her (or my crappy ex-boyfriend). One should not continue going through life hoping the people that have done you wrong stub their toe. I know that and you know that. Will someone please tell my head that too?

Perhaps if I really do want closure I have to get it myself. I see home girl every time I hit up my granny’s church. Part of me wants to go up to her and say something. Forget the apology on Oprah I use to want. I just want to hear out of her own mouth why she felt the need to pick on me. Sure I have an idea why (I was a nerd), but getting her to acknowledge it would do my heart a world of good for some reason. The problem is there is a good chance she doesn’t even remember me. That would probably make me even bitter. Ultimately I should just leave well enough alone and keep working to let it go. One day this case will be closed.

Now introducing ... television

2011-03-18T23:43:00.000-04:00

There was a time when I didn’t watch television. It started during my college years because I was too busy to watch TV. I missed out on hit shows such as “Lost” or “Grey’s Anatomy.” Then Cee introduced me to Hulu and all that changed. I finally didn’t have to worry about watching the exact air date. Instead I could watch my shows online.

I started watching several of my shows mid-series. They didn’t require knowing too much back history to understand the dynamics of the show.

“The Simpsons”
My first experience with this show was watching the movie in 2007. It makes me smile.

“Family Guy”
I absolutely love Stewie and Brian. Their back and forth relationship keeps me grinning.

“The Office”
Michael Scott – the man you love and hate at the same time. I watch this show because of him.

“Psych”
Shawn and Gus have one of the best bromances of all times. Not to mention they’re both adorable.

Last year I decided to expand my horizons and ride the wave with several new shows. Some of my favorites were canceled (R.I.P. “Eastwick” and “Dollhouse”) but the rest have survived the chopping block.

“Community”
The bromance between Abed and Troy is perhaps the second best of all times. Watch out “Psych.”

“Parks and Recreation”
There is something about Leslie Knopes’ character that reminds me of myself. She’s socially inept but loveable.

“Glee”
For the love of music, they sing in this show. Cee bought me several of the albums from the show and I absolutely love it.

“The Event”
This is for the Sci-Fi lover in me. The first episode had me so caught up I couldn’t stop watching.

“The Cleveland Show”
Sometimes this show has me laugh even harder than “Family Guy.”

“Modern Family”
Dysfunctional families telling their tales to the camera. What’s not to love?

The main link between the majority of the shows I watch is comedy. I like to laugh. Only one really makes me think, “The Event.” My time of TV watching is a chance to escape life with a laugh here and there. Thanks to the wonders of Hulu I can keep the laughs coming forever more.

Summertime crush

2011-03-18T00:00:00.005-04:00

Crushes have been an important part of my life since I was a child. Someone has always been an object of my affection. Sometimes they’ve been a celebrity, such as Ray J. and Jason Weaver (don’t judge me). For the most part it’s someone I know and even interact with. Usually they don’t know I have a crush. At least that’s what I’d like to think. Subtlety is not one of my strong suits. Cee says it’s not even in my closet (she’s such a joker).

I can’t remember a time without me having a crush, until now. These days I’m going through a dry spell. My old crush got engaged so I had to end that one. He has yet to provide a crush replacement, and pickings are slim around here. There is no one that has captured my attention as of late. Celebrities. Real people. Not one person. I tried having a not-so-secret crush on one person I see on the regular. Nobody could take it seriously. He’s not my actual type, and in theory my crush should be someone I really would want to date and relate to. Good crushes just don’t seem to come easy anymore. This can’t be life. I have no one to fawn over or come up with a special crush song.

If only I could find someone to crush on these days. I don’t ask for much. I just need someone I find attractive with a good personality. Cee is trying to push off one of her friends on me for a crush. He’s cute as pie (as she would say) but I don’t feel that crush connection. That connection is key for a successful crush. Plus I never see him. I need to be in constant interaction with my crush. I need to see my crush on the regular in some form.
One of my friends thinks it’s abnormal for a mid-20 something to have adult crushes. Perhaps it is, but I am not motivated to date. I crush instead. I prefer to window shop than actually purchase something out the store. A crush is an easy breezy carefree type activity. Let it be known I’m accepting applications for a summertime crush.

Name that identity

2011-03-16T23:56:00.002-04:00

Maybe the question isn’t “What’s in a name?” as Shakespeare so eloquently put it but “who is the name?” Growing up I answered to quite a few names. Actually I still hear all of them. Antonia is what my parents named me, but my granddaddy said it was too hard to say or remember. He christened me Sunday instead. Then Tone-Tone was bestowed on me by a relative on my dad’s side of the family. I introduced myself as “Toni like the tiger except with an I” in college. Antonia. Sunday. Tone-Tone. Toni. It’s a wonder I don’t have split personalities for each name. Talking to a friend the other day made me think about how many of us go by nicknames with family and close friends. Are we different people with each name? Does a name make us change?

I’d like to think I’m the same person with every name, but in certain instances I can see some variations in personality. That’s not to say there are 27 different people living inside of me. But Tone-Tone is definitely not the same as Toni or Sunday. Tone-Tone is the child-like little cousin and full of restless energy. It’s a name I grew out of for the most part, like someone called Boo-Boo or Pumpkin. I do still hear it from time to time. Toni is the talkative but humorous friend. That nickname is used with casual acquaintances and close friends alike. Sunday is the charming and ambitious grandchild. Use of this name demonstrates a closeness only found with old, old friends and family. I’m likely to be even goofier around my friends as Toni. Of course Sunday will make you smile, but she’s a lot more practical at times. Tone-Tone comes out when a moment calls for a child-like innocence.

So who is Antonia? The sum and difference of all these names. The name that looks good on the surface. The professional name. There are slight differences in how I respond depending on what name is used. Ultimately each one equals me, Antonia. The only name without an identity is my middle name. J. is in hiding for now. One day she’ll come out to play.

would be spinster

2011-03-15T22:57:00.002-04:00

Lately becoming a cat lady has seemed quite appealing. I will likely end up a spinster because I cannot be bothered with the dating scene. Blame it on a lack of suitable prospects and my irritable personality syndrome. Dating is just not my thing. Supposedly it is the key to getting into a relationship and actually ending up married. I’ve been trying to get my parents to arrange a marriage for years so I can avoid dating. Apparently that’s not their thing either.

I made a list of several goals for 2010 including an ambitious one of going on 12 dates. It did not happen, and I realized I didn’t even care I failed. If I actually was motivated to go outside my house and meet people, I could possible scrounge up a date. Club Walmart for the record is not the hookup spot. I know from personal experience.

Maybe if I lowered my standards and accepted offers from any and everybody I might have met the dating quota. I tried to be accepting, but people weren’t up to par. There was the guy at Walmart who was put on the cut list after saying his adopted sister accused him of rape. That was too much drama for me. Then a guy at church ruined my worship experience one Sunday. I’m trying to get right with the Lord and he was spitting game during the service. And I can’t forget this one guy I met at a wedding. He started off good but lost interest.

Maybe it’s me. Everyone isn’t meant to be married anyway. My daddy, grandmother and aunt are praying daily I don’t end up an old maid. But would that be so bad? If I do end up a spinster, it won’t be the end of the world. No kids. No husband. No worries. That sounds like a decent tradeoff to me. Having a family of my own would be nice, and I would love to have a wedding. But if by 40 I’m still unmarried you can call it a wrap. This chick is throwing a spinster party in style. I’m going to marry myself. And I’ll actually buy a cat.

public perception

2011-03-14T23:59:00.001-04:00

Perception is everything to some people. It doesn’t matter what the truth is about a situation. Their truth is how they perceive it. Unfortunately I learned that lesson growing up as a preacher’s kid, or a PK. I have never been a fan of have a pastor for a daddy. Growing up, and even now, I felt that he gave so much of his time and attention to other people and church issues that our family was sometimes placed on the backburner. And of course there was that whole issue of perception. Everyone always thinks preacher’s children are spoiled and wild. There are some who fit that profile of course, but that can be said about the children of doctors, lawyers or whoever. I wasn’t the best child or the worst. I was just a child. But I sometimes felt like I had to be extra good because of that perception. PKs were also expected to have a talent such as singing, playing an instrument or speaking. I played the piano for years until I realized it really wasn’t my thing.

The April issue of Ebony magazine asked several pastors’ wives about their life as a first lady. One of the questions was “Who has the most pressure on them: pastors, first ladies or their children.” I was happy to see them answer the children. “They have to conform to the expectations of those around them. And there are preconceived notions of how the children of a minister should behave or whether they will go into ministry,” said Elder Karen Bernard of Christian Cultural Center in Brooklyn, N.Y. A pastor has a calling on his life and the wife supports him, said Jamell Meeks of Salem Baptist Church in Chicago, Ill. “A pastor’s kids were born into it, unlike the pastor or his wife. From birth, everything the children do is judged. Anything they do that people feel is not right, that fact is going to be verbalized.”

I’m not sure what perception my dad’s members have of me these days. They probably think I’m so wild adult. Now that I’m in my mid-20s I don’t care anymore. The only perception that matters to me is God’s.

Family bonding time

2011-03-13T23:55:00.002-04:00

My trips home are sometimes few and far between. I don’t do much when I come to visit anyway. Usually it consists of me coming home late on a Friday night or early on a Saturday morning, sleeping, visiting my grandma and going to church with my parents on a Sunday. Did I mention I have to sleep on the couch? There is no bed for me to lay my head, and my former room is now used for storage. Also my parents never had food. I usually have to grocery shop for myself. Not too much of a reason to come home, right?

Then last week at church I had an epiphany while the pastor was delivering his sermon: I missed my daddy’s preaching. That’s not to say the pastor in Lake City wasn’t a decent preacher, but after growing up under my daddy’s tutelage I have developed a certain affinity for his sermons. I toyed with the idea of going home this weekend. I was just home about two weeks ago, and I don’t like them getting too used to visits from me. Ma Dukes mentioned she was speaking at a church Sunday and that sealed the deal for me to come home.

I’m glad I did. If nothing else I got to enjoy ample amounts of family togetherness with the top people in my family. My mother and I were cuddle bunnies Friday night, and I talked her ear off while she tried to sleep. She probably wasn’t listening but just our moments of closeness made my night (until my daddy kicked me out the bedroom). Then Saturday night my daddy and I bonded over a showing of “Our Family Wedding.” We laughed and joked about what my wedding would be like (if it ever happens) Sunday night brought bonding with my little brother. Together we went to our granny’s house and visited with her and an aunt.

I might not do much on my trips homes but there is one activity that is always a given: family bonding. I may lack a bed and a room but their love is always there. That’s enough to make me come home any weekend.

Foul language musings

2011-03-12T20:25:00.002-05:00

There’s just something about profane language that gets to me, and not in a good way. It actually makes me cringe a little inside. After all these years I should be used to it. My parents’ don’t always speak words filled with sprinkles and sunshine. My brother’s mouth often spouts crude terms. Several of my friends drop curse bombs. A few of them would put sailors to shame. That’s not to say I don’t curse. I do but not that much. I try to keep my language clean.

Sometimes I feel like people unnecessarily use choice words. While out with a friend once she dropped so many F- and S-bombs I wanted to hide. Did I mention children were nearby? The F-bomb does not need to be used in every single sentence. It shows a weak command of the English language in my humble opinion. If someone is dropping too many hard-hitting words I shout out “language, language.” It’s my little way of trying to clean up the swearing.

There are times when you might have to “make it plain” as my father would say. A simple phrase might need juicing up to address that person who cut you off while driving. Emphasis is sometimes involved by using a certain word in a story. Even still those moments should be few and far between.

Personally I think it sounds unbecoming of a lady to carelessly drop choice words. There was a time when gentlemen never used profane language around a lady. These days it doesn’t matter. Granted I’m not exactly the perfect epitome of a lady. I don’t wear pantyhose. I chuck globs of spit randomly to the side (I’m not swallowing it). And I chew gum like a cow chews cud. Not cussing has to count for something right? Certain words have a melodious sound to them. Whimsical. Facetious. Intrepid. There’s nothing pretty about cuss words. You can’t arrange them to produce a pleasing sound to the ear. Perhaps I’m just old fashion in my thinking. Besides people are going to cuss anyway. But there are too many other words out there to only use the crudest ones. Language is just as lovely clean.

limit the lines

2011-03-11T23:24:00.008-05:00

I talk a lot. Not a little, but a lot. A. Whole. Lot. My grandmother used to call me Mouth Almighty, Tongue Everlasting. However, I am the first to admit I can be a bit too talkative. I go from topic to topic with random rants thrown in and lose focus easily. Unfortunately that same trait carries over to my writing.

The news industry often tells reporters to write tight, meaning keep it to the point, clear and concise. I have to keep that rule in mind constantly at work because space is limited sometimes. In my personal writing and reflections I tend to throw that rule out the window. My early days of blogging started on Facebook. Each Facebook note probably read more like a college essay. I wrote and wrote and wrote some more. And just when you’d think I was done, I added another 2,000 words for good measure. That’s not to say what I wrote was bad. Some of it was fairly good, but it was too long.

I knew writing 10,000 word blog posts wasn’t going to be an option while participating in NaBloPoMo. Lengthy posts, even though they are my own thoughts, take time to write depending on the subject matter. I set up a word limit of 365 for each post, which is about half of what I normally write. A person’s attention span is only so long. Following a word limit can sometimes be challenging. You have so much to say but are only allocated a certain amount of space. It’s kind of like using Twitter. You only have 140 characters to tweet.

I am starting to see some improvement with my self-imposed word limit. It’s helping me cut out a lot of fluff in my writing and become a stronger storyteller. This should hopefully carry over to the day job. There might come a time when I feel the need to write a good 500 words again, but for now I’m following the limit. I still tend to write with no end in sight in my personal journal. Readers can rest assured there’s a limit to my posts now. I’ll keep it simple.

a head full of personality

2011-03-10T21:54:00.004-05:00

“'Cause you've got (personality).
Walk (with personality).
Talk (with personality).
Smile (with personality).
Charm (with personality).
Love (with personality).
An' plus you got a great big heart.”

Personality is usually attributed to people or animals. Tell that to my hair. It’s always had a mind of its own. I began to fully comprehend that idea after I went natural. That’s not to say my hair lacked personality while chemically processed. Personality has seemed to shine through even more so in its natural state.

Over time I’ve noticed several consistent traits about my hair. My hair is outgoing. It’s always all over the place, making friends with people. It’s also adaptable. I used to rock twists out every week, then I started braiding it. Now I’ve ventured into Bantu knots, flat twists and more. Whatever style I throw its way, my hair can handle. There are times when my hair can be assertive too. Some days it won’t even humble down to be styled. I usually end up letting it flow free as it wants to be.

The second time I cut all my hair off a cousin had a fit. Apparently rocking the tapered fro didn’t seem to fit my personality. A drastically different look invoked a new hair personality. This hair was more mature, refined and serious. It was fun while it lasted, but eventually I started to miss my longer locks and the personality that went with twists and braid outs or whatnot.

Essentially I’ve realized my hair is a reflection of me or who I want to be. “Hair is often an excellent predictor of someone’s self-image and lifestyle,” according to Jo-Ellan Dimitrius in “Reading People: How to Understand People and Predict Their Behavior – Anyplace, Anytime.” Most people would agree I’m outgoing. I never meet a stranger and talk to any and every body. I’m also fairly adaptable. One minute I have to be a writer and the next I’m a photographer. I’m not as assertive as I want to be, but it’s a work in progress. At the end of the day my hair is a mirror image of me. I’ve got personality. Of course my hair would have it too.

Spontaneously a bust

2011-03-09T23:42:00.001-05:00

There was a time when I lived spontaneously. Nike’s motto, “Just Do It,” was also my own, and I freely gave into any impulse. Each day was different from the last. The only schedule I followed was for classes, and everything else was played by ear. Breakfast might be at 1 p.m. today or 8 a.m. tomorrow. Studying was thrown in the loop somewhere. Club meetings were attended as needed. Fun was 24/7. There was no set time for most activities. It was all free flowing.

Then I graduated from college, and the real world set in. Gone are the days of just going with the flow. Spontaneity often seems to be a foreign concept. My life is all about schedules now. Get up at 8:30 a.m. Work at 9 a.m. Lunch at 12 p.m. Bed at 11 p.m. Does anyone know how to build a time machine? Please send me back to those carefree days of college.

I tried to not conform to a regular schedule at first. How hard could it be to just follow impulsives? That didn’t work out too well. I gave in and started using a planner and making To Do Lists. Now everything must have an assigned appointment slot. No more random road trips with my friends. We have to plan months and months in advance. On those rare occasions when I don't make a schedule, I sleep all day. This can’t be life. Something has to give.

Being an adult can be a drag with all the responsibilities. Unlike the carefree days of youth, there is much more rigidness and structure to follow. You can’t just take a mental health day and skip work or push aside projects to party hearty. But that doesn’t mean adulthood has to lack fun. It’s up to me to spice up life. I can’t be completely carefree and throw caution to the wind. I can, however, have weekly moments of spontaneity. Yes, I will schedule the fun. Maybe I’ll pop into a movie out of the blue or bake a peach cobbler at 1 a.m. just for fun. I refuse to be a dull 20-something. I’ll live spontaneously – at least once in a while.

The point of all annoyance

2011-03-09T01:27:00.001-05:00

My irritable personality syndrome is flaring up again. Little things are starting to set me on edge. It’s not so much with everyone, but a few select people. Don’t blame PMS. There’s just something in my nature that makes me lose patience easily about minor things. A friend texted me during my time of sustained silent reading Tuesday. I might have possibly overacted. The text transcript, with my thoughts, is as follows:

“Real Gs move in silence like lasagna…” he wrote

“What?” I replied.

“It’s true. The modern day philosopher Weezy F, please say the baby, hath decreed it.”

Now was it really that important to send me this text message at 9:13 p.m. in the first place? We are not cool like that.

“OK and on that note I return to reading.”

At this point he should have left me alone, but no. Clearly he was asking for my wrath.

“Oh what you getting into?”

“A book.”

Didn’t I just say this a few seconds ago?

“Don’t be coy. What book?”

I was not being coy. I was being curt so he would get the message to leave me be. That didn’t help so I had to get rude.

“CAN I READ IN PEACE?”

“Why do you always make things difficult? For once can you be friendly without catching an attitude? You never talk to (our other friends) like this. What’s your problem with me?”

“I would like to read in peace.”

“Go ahead and read, friend.”

My problem with him is he couldn’t seem to understand I was reading. Don’t try to engage me in a conversation. Other friends don’t do stupid things to irritate me; therefore they don’t get an attitude.

Typing in all caps probably wasn’t the nicest way to handle this, but when I reach my annoyance boiling point there is no telling what will happen. I am sorry for my snippiness. I do need to stop. I have since asked God to help me have the same amount of patience with others that he would have with me. It’s only fair. Patience is a virtue I desire. It would just be so much easier if people didn’t annoy me.

Pursuit of happiness

2011-03-08T20:10:00.004-05:00

“All I really want is to be happy and to find a love that's mine. It would be so sweet.” Mary J. Blige sung of happiness regarding a relationship. For me happiness relates to my career choices. My particular industry has never been known for the reasonable hours, large paychecks or praise and admiration. Some would say it downright sucks. That didn’t stop me one bit. Sure there are long hours, I get paid peanuts and most days are thankless. But I had passion for my job. It made me happy. Nothing could take that away.

Much to my parents’ chagrin I spent four years in college getting a degree in a field that makes no money. They wanted me to go to law school, get a master’s degree or do something more with life. I like observing court cases not being an active participant. School was hard enough the first go round, I couldn’t take any more. And I do something more with my life every day as a writer.

Now with any job there comes moments of frustration, self-doubt or lack of motivation. I’ve learned to not go to my parents looking for a boost. Their responses tend to be along the lines of, “We told you not to go into that field. Why don’t you teach school? Merrill Lynch is hiring.” Whatever happened to saying “It will be OK,” or “Keep pressing on and doing what you love?” So much for encouragement from them.

Personally, I can’t just do any and everything. There’s a little thing called happiness heavily involved. I must be happy. That wouldn’t be the case as a teacher. I don’t like large groups of students. There isn’t enough vacation time or money in the world to change that. I would suffocate to death in a cubicle. I can’t stand being in an office all day. I need to get out and about talking to and interviewing people. Granted what I do might not be the best job to some – OK most – people, but there is something special about it. It makes me happy (for the most part). That’s all anyone wants in a job (and to make money).

A lesson in limericks

2011-03-07T22:27:00.000-05:00

Poetry writing has never been my strength. I can appreciate a good poem, of course, but don’t ask me to write one. Unless it’s a limerick.

Typically a limerick is a stanza of five lines with the first, second and fifth rhyming with each other. The third and fourth rhyme with each other. Back in the early days of limericks the first and fifth line ended with the same word. Limericks are witty, humorous and full of nonsense, kind of like me. What’s not to like about this style of poetry?

A character in one of my favorite book series, “The Cat Who ...” by Lillian Jackson Braun, wrote a column dedicated solely to limericks. I might not have a column, per say, but I do have this blog. Here are some limericks I find entertaining.

The limerick packs laughs anatomical
In space that is quite economical,
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.
Readers be warned. Limericks can be raunchy.

There was a Young Person of Smyrna
Whose grandmother threatened to burn her;
But she seized on the cat,
and said 'Granny, burn that!
You incongruous old woman of Smyrna!'
My granny used to threaten to spank me. Usually she did spank me. We didn’t have a cat handy.

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his gold in a bucket.
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.
My mother used to tell me a dirtier version of this one. We’ll leave it at that.

There was an old man from Peru,
who dreamed he was eating his shoe.
He awoke in the night
with a terrible fright
and found out that it was quite true.
This is one of my favorite limericks. My mom often recited it, and I used to hear it in school.

And now introducing my very own limerick.
There once was a nice girl named Toni
Who only ate Kraft macaroni
She refused to eat meat
Abhorred fruits and sweets
Her tombstone said, "Here lies Miss Bony."

Puberty … the return

2011-03-06T20:23:00.004-05:00

Remember the days of puberty? Who can forget that magical time when the body went crazy? Eventually you grew into it. One of the biggest parts of puberty is acne which is triggered by hormones. My acne was really bad and required a trip to the dermatologist at one point. It calmed down by college, and gone were those days of giant pimples all over my face. Or so I thought until now.

My face is starting to look like puberty all over again. The acne has returned and with a vengeance. This is a scene from “Puberty II: Pimple Harder.” Something is causing me to break out, and I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit. It was hard enough to go through my younger years as a zit face. Must I face that again as an adult?

Acne affects 25 percent of all men and 50 percent of women at some time in their adult lives, according to Acne.org. At least I’m not the only character in “Puberty II.” The site also stated one third of adults affected with facial acne also have it on their body. I’m a member of that club too. "Recent epidemiological studies show that there appears to be an increase in post-adolescent acne, and that the disease is lasting longer and is requiring treatment well into the mid forties," according to a 2004 International Journal of Cosmetic Science article. Are you kidding me? I refuse to be middle-age with pimples.

Several things lead to adult acne including: stress, PMS and cosmetics. I’ve had the PMS flare ups before. Those last a day or two. My hair products can be oily, and I’ve change items and certain styles to avoid any problems. I’ve worked in a high stress environment for several years with no problems. What gives now?

This has all led me to one conclusion: I’m going through puberty again. Help, the end is near! OK it probably is just stress catching up with me. Perhaps I need to woo sah just a little bit more. And I’ve started washing my face three times a day. I kicked pimples in puberty. I can do it again as an adult.

Cleaning lady

2011-03-05T17:26:00.002-05:00

It’s bad when your room gets so messy you can’t take it anymore. Starting today my Saturdays will be dedicated to cleaning my room. It’s been a bona fide mess for the past two weeks. Most people are familiar with the phrase, “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Right about now the devil and I are best friends if my room is any indicator.

I have a tendency to let things pile up. Laundry in one corner. That bookshelf I need to assemble in the other. Trash scattered throughout. Sometimes disorganization sets in and rules supreme. I often have this same issue with my work desk. Clutter starts to spread like a deadly virus. Then suddenly I realize I can’t see the bottom of it anymore. That’s when it’s time for the cleaning lady to step in.

Initially my goal was to clean my room earlier in the week. I put together a to-do list and that was in the top three along with cooking and washing clothes. Alas and alack, the demanding hours of my profession, not to mention good old fashion laziness, kept me from getting anything done. I just washed clothes this morning. Lunch might happen by tomorrow. But by golly I am going to clean my entire room today.

There isn’t that much work to actually do in the grand scheme of things. Clean the dresser, organize the top of the book chest, hang up clothes, make the bed and voila, I’m done. Often I lack motivation to clean my room. It’s one of my least favorite activities, along with cooking, washing dishes and putting away laundry. What happened to those robots of the Jetson’s era? Shouldn’t there be a model available to clean my room for me? No? OK, guess it’s just me.

Maybe if I start cleaning my room in sections throughout the week it won’t seem like such a massive task. And playing music soothes me while cooking. I can perhaps start doing that during my cleaning sessions. The ultimate goal is to not let my room be such a mess every week. Every two weeks should be manageable. Then the cleaning lady can make a very brief appearance.

A Texture Tale

2011-03-04T21:29:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, but not long ago, a young woman realized there was something unusual about her hair. It was more than just the fact that fairy knots appeared mysteriously at the end of some strands each night. Instead she noticed there were two different textures in her hair. This caught the woman by surprise. Never had she noticed her hair to have more than one texture while rocking a relaxer. Her natural hair seemed to shine a light on the comparison.

The vast majority of her hair was of the Congo thick and kinky variety. Right dead center in the front patch was a variety of another. This patch was a lot finer and silkier compared to the course texture throughout the rest of the head. She dubbed it the North Africa Patch.

Normally the two textures united in hair harmony for most style. But one day the woman decided to just flat twist the patch and two strand twist the rest. A difference wasn’t noticeable – at first. The style remained in place for several days until it morphed into a twist out. Then a difference was visible. The entire head was coily and curly, but one little patch was ever so curlier. As the twist out faded, the Congo coils started morphing into an organized mess, due to a lack of a sleeping cap, but the North Africa patch remained vigilant in its defined curl pattern. What did this all mean? Was she the only one with this problem? The young woman decided to research and find out.

Hair websites, such as the Long Hair Care Forum, soon put the young woman to ease. Many other posters shared the same dilemma. It was indeed normal to have two different hair textures. Different circumstances could be the culprit, such as poor health, genetics or just because hair can be random in some cases. There was no need to be alarmed (not that she was worrying much anyway). So the girl went back to styling her hair with the same products. All was well in the world of her hair. And now dear reader this texture tale has come to an end.

The art of persuasion

2011-03-03T22:04:00.001-05:00

Let the dry run of National Blog Posting Month begin (granted I’m a few days late). NaBloPoMo, which is officially in November, is an offshoot of National Novel Writing Month. Instead of writing a book in a month, bloggers post something every day. Different blog themes during the months leading up to November are set to help writers prepare for the challenge. The theme is “In a word” for the month of March.

Faithful reader and friend, Cee, participated in NaBlogPoMo a couple of years ago. She plans on doing it again and proclaimed March as her dry run. And guess who was dragged in to join her? I had no intent of even participating in this month’s challenge. I do good to participate in Writing Wednesday every week. I barely write a sports column quarterly for my job. What would possess me to take on the challenge of writing every single day? All I know is Cee asked me to try it Wednesday, and after some prodding I said yes. What can I say? She’s persuasive like that.

Cee always has her pulse on some of the coolest things out there. She was on Twitter before it became the next big thing. Perhaps that’s what makes her persuasion of me so easy. I know if she’s down with the cause it’s probably something I’ll enjoy.

If nothing else, this should help me improve myself as a “blogger.” My posts should become more concise and direct. Usually my blog posts are a wild reading tangent. Also I tend to feign being too busy writing for the man to write for myself when I miss Writing Wednesday. This will perhaps be an exercise in time management. I must post or die (well maybe not). Regular readers know I tend to be lackadaisical about posting. Sometimes months pass between new ones.

Hopefully I can come up with enough interesting posts. I’m already two days behind, but Cee said to continue the challenge for the rest of the month. If I make it through 28 days of March, perhaps there is hope for me in November. Cee will most certainly persuade me to participate in the official NaBloPoMo.

bad seeds

2011-03-02T22:34:00.005-05:00

Little people should be seen and not heard. At least that’s what my granny used to tell me as a child. That saying didn’t mean too much to me as a child. Actually it was somewhat of an insult. I had a voice and was definitely going to use it. But I’m starting to better understand just what she meant by that very phrase. Quite a few parents of today need to take that statement to heart. Frame it on their wall. Put it in their wallet. Make it a personal family mantra. Actually I’m starting to feel little people shouldn’t be seen or heard.
More and more children have gone wild, and it’s driving me crazy. I wish it drove the parents crazy too. Then maybe they would do something about it. Head to the grocery story during the day and you’ll hear little Johnny throwing a tantrum because Mommy won’t buy a box of some sugary cereal. Like he needed it anyway. Little Johnny is already a demon spawn. That cereal would just make him 10 times worse. Go to a special event and have the (dis)pleasure of sitting in front of or next to a child. Little Becky will probably kick your seat non-stop and give you the evil eye when you confront her. Or she’ll just walk randomly over to your seat 10 feet from her parents. If you’re me you’ll ask ever so loudly, “Whose child is this? Where is your mother?”
My personal favorite sighting for children gone wild is church. If you want to mess up a person’s worship experience quicker than the devil, just bring some bad seeds into the mix. Little Lulu will whine and cry all during the service if she can’t get a church fan. Then Rosemary’s baby will proceed to shred it up on the pew while Mommy just ignores it. Then she’ll have the audacity to not share her snacks. I can’t stand it. I told my mother churches need to institute a cage system for children. Drop your child off at a designated spot, and little Lulu will be placed in her own personal kennel. Each kennel will have snacks, water and toys to entertain the child. You and everyone else that knows how to make their children behave can enjoy service in peace. A cage supervisor will be on hand to ensure your child is returned to you by the end of service. My mother said I would have everyone in jail (at least we’d be away from bad children).
I just don’t like bad children. They make me itch and then I have to sit on my hands before I snatch them up and show them what my granddaddy used to call “The Rod of Correction.” Even more so I don’t like bad parenting. Ignoring a child’s bad behavior is not going to make it stop. Do something with your child before I do.
Now I must confess I wasn’t the best little child growing up. There are some, namely my mother, who will allege I used to spit on people or tell them to shut up. Supposedly I even caused a Bible to go flying in the air during Bible Study. I don’t recall those times at all. Bad as I was, my mother was badder (yeah I know it’s not a word). She believed in discipline (read spankings). Lots and lots of discipline. Five times a day. As a result I grew out of my evil child ways.
I shudder to think about what will happen to the ones of today that receive no discipline. It doesn’t have to be a spanking. Send them to time out. Take a privilege away. Do something. Just rectify the bad behavior before it gets out of hand. Or they might have to face me. I’m not prejudice. I will fight a child. Child gone wild today. Girls Gone Wild tomorrow.

Chronicles of Life … on the clock

2011-02-09T23:13:00.000-05:00

Why do people keep ruining my worship experience? I try to get my praise and worship on, but the devil is ever busy. Usually it’s some loud child making animal noises or an ignorant suitor using church as the hookup spot that annoys me during the service. But things went to a new level Sunday.

I’m not really a big fan of the whole greet your neighbor segment at church. It’s all well and good, but I have my qualms. Some people just don’t wash their hands. I don’t like touching any and everybody. I get sick enough as it is without catching their germs. I’ll semi participate which means I say howdy to two people and sit down (unless someone comes over). I’m not an official member of any church in Lake City, so I try to stay low key during that portion of the service. I hate being recognized during the fellowship because of my profession. People tend to ask am I writing an article on the service. NO! Can’t I at least be “off duty” for the Lord?
At the service I attended Sunday two women recognized me and mentioned they were going to contact me later. I thought later meant like during normal business hours. One of them just couldn’t wait that long. There I was trying to clap and sing along with the choir (OK I was sitting still as a rock but I do hum in my head) when she passed an announcement from pew to pew to me. Really! She couldn’t at least wait until the offering? In her rush to get it to me she left off vital bits of information. We had to go back and forth correcting it. That ended my sing-along time with the choir.
No place is safe for me anymore. I keep a notepad on hand at all times because I never know who’s going to stop me next. It doesn’t matter if I’m on the phone, in the bathroom or sitting in my car. They absolutely have to share their news right then and there. I go to Walmart late at night because that’s when I’m least likely to be bothered. If someone sees me they will stop to give me information. That’s probably half the reason I’m not a member of a particular church here. People get pushy with their news. I don’t want to have to set some deacon straight if he was trying to discuss work-related issues while passing the communion wine.
It is technically the nature of my line of work to never really be “off duty.” I should be use to it by now. Most times I am, except for when I’m tuned into the service. I’m just glad it wasn’t during the sermon. I think I might start going to church incognito. I’ll create an alias, and no one will know it’s me. Unless there is something Earth shattering that needs coverage right then and there, people can wait to share their news during normal business hours. If nothing else, wait until after church. I’ll get back on the clock then.