Party Planning Woes Part I

Writing is therapeutic for me. I might seriously maim someone if I didn’t write out my feelings in a journal or on a blog (which I use to chronicle things that are just too long to write by hand). I present a series on my biggest stressor right now – planning a bachelorette party!

If someone would have told me beforehand that planning a bachelorette party was going to be a massive headache, I might have gracefully bowed out of the position.

My oldest friend (we go back to the crib literally) declared me the Maid of Honor for her wedding taking place in November. Her sister is Matron of Honor and is planning the bridal shower. My job is the bachelorette party. For some reason I thought it would be a piece of cake.

Naked hour

My kind of t-shirt!

I like being naked. Really. Like. It. As a result I have implemented a daily naked hour. Each day I strip down and lay in the bed. It’s refreshing and gets me energized.


It began one particularly hot afternoon when I came home from work and announced, “I need to lay down and be naked for at least one hour.” Living in Florida means it’s hot 90 percent of the time. That in turn means I’m always sweaty and irritable. Couple that with wearing a bra (a torture device for women), and you have one unhappy camper. Naked hour lets me get my nerves together and allows me to cool off in body and mind.

The Principles of Envelope Addressing

Follow this guideline for envelopes.

Students don’t seem to know how to write letters, much less address an envelope, these days. I am on a crusade to make sure that changes. An interesting exchange with a student sparked my motivation for this cause. The way he addressed an envelope left me flabbergasted. The middle was left blank and he placed the address of the recipient in the upper left-hand corner.

the PK plight

Sometimes I feel like people assume because my dad is a pastor they can just recruit me for all things church related without advanced notice, proper preparation or training. They think I know how to do most things church-related. Sure I grew up in the church, but I wasn’t really involved in all the behind the scenes inner workings. I joined a church in January, and since then they have had me doing this that and the other.

the silent game

Last weekend I attended an improv show in Jax with a new friend. She rode with me to the show, but her fiancé was picking her up later. Not long after it ended, the fiancé was on his way. The show was in the downtown area, and somehow he got lost. Considering the roads and layouts of downtown, that’s not too hard to do.

The problem with preschoolers



Preschoolers = the Kindergarteners from Recess.

 It takes a special person to teach children, especially preschoolers. That person is NOT me.

I was recruited to assist with the preschool class at Vacation Bible School last week. I work with the youth ministry at church and even help out in Sunday School with the primary class when needed. A Vacation Bible School class would be easy. Or so I thought.

Give Dad his due

Is it just me or do good dads not really seem to get the love and respect they deserve on Father’s Day? Take for instance the cards available for the occasion. Father’s Day cards are a joke compared to Mother’s Day. Most seem to be filled with back-handed compliments, undercover insults or are just plain rude. Fathers are often portrayed as lazy, henpecked or worse in those cards. If I see one more card saying, “Dad here’s your day to do absolutely nothing and not get in trouble with Mom!” I am going to call Hallmark and give them a piece of my mind.

The definitive reunion

“Reunited and it feels so good!” Peaches and Herb were on to something with that song. It does indeed feel good to be reunited as I discovered during my class reunion last week.

reunion worries

My high school senior shirt.

Suddenly ten years don’t seem quite that long. In just two days I’m attending my first class reunion. Can you believe it? The days have gone by too quickly. It feels like just yesterday I was walking the halls of high school (actually I was because my job involves working with students, but you catch my drift). 

Business hours

Sometimes a dating woman needs business hours.

Gentlemen callers used to be a little more respectful of when they called a lady. A phone call after 12 a.m. was a definite no-no (unless you were a booty call at which point respect is not a factor). Unfortunately, I’ve started to notice that guys are calling later and later and thinking it’s OK. Newsflash fellas: IT’S NOT! For that very reason a dating woman needs business hours for male callers.

Better, not bitter

Back in my dating prime I didn't take break-ups, disappearing acts or ending "friendships" too well. One minute you're all sprung, infatuated or in “like” with a person. The next they're saying you're unable to reciprocate what you expect in return or are too goofy for them. Even worse they might just disappear from the face of the Earth without even a messenger pigeon.

the letter

Dear Wesley,
Where's my letter?
Signed your friend,
Toni

Letter writing seems to be a dying art form these days. Facebook, Twitter and e-mail have done away with sending messages, except for the occasional Christmas card. Randomly I send letters or cards to folks whenever the mood strikes (usually at Easter and during the summer). In most cases, people either write me back or at least acknowledge receiving the correspondence. Such was not the case with a certain celebrity.

Green-I-am

Would you like green eggs and ham?

Green Eggs and Ham always was hilarious to me. Sam-I-am was just so persistent about getting the other character to eat the dish. The story was a good example of how we should be open to trying new things. Not to long ago I had my own green eggs and ham experience.

Hymnology 101

The leader always has this handy when lining a hymn.

Growing up a preacher’s child exposed me to a lot of church traditions throughout my childhood, such as hymn lining. Unfortunately future generations might miss out on it. A few months ago I watched a video about hymn lining becoming a disappearing tradition. Hymn lining is a form of call and response and dates back to slavery times within the black church. Typically a leader sings, or lines, the verses of a hymn in a suggested tune and the congregation repeats in kind. The leader chooses from a variety of meters to line the hymn to, such as common, short and long. Thus lined hymns might be sung in a different tune from how one normally hears it.

the pat down

Nothing to hide here

This time last week I was preparing to head to merrye olde England and gay Paree! Thursday at the butt crack of dawn (also known as 5:30 a.m.) I got up to shampoo and style my hair before we left. I knew we would be constantly on the go during the trip and didn’t want my hair to be a major concern. Also I didn’t want to give TSA a reason to pat down my hair. I’ve read horror stories about the experience. If celebrities have to go through pat downs, what hope would there be for me? Two-strand twists simply hanging down seemed like the best option to combat both problems. So I mixed up some curl-leeper (my fave product) and shea butter and twisted away. Typically twists are how I wear my hair during domestic travels. I never had a problem. Until this trip.

Bad children beware

Children are among my least favorite people. Actually, let me rephrase. BAD children are among my least favorite people. Too often I find myself surrounded by them. Many parents don't seem to think raising well-mannered children is a priority. Instead they let them run around like little heathens. Civilized society should not be forced to deal with their spawns of Satan. Perhaps that's why I was so sympathetic to the Dollar General employee who dispensed some old fashion discipline to a BAD child.

I'm a survivor

The roomie and I had a Scream marathon a few days ago. Between my screams every time Ghostface jumped out and ignored yells saying, “Call 9-1-1,” we discussed our survival plan for a similar situation. You’ve got to have a plan these days for everything. I’m still assembling my zombie apocalypse plan, but the one for a small town serial killer is ready to go and completely fool proof. We won’t be dying because of Ghostface anytime soon. Of course we initially wondered if I would make it to the end because the black person ALWAYS dies in horror movies/thrillers. Or do they? In recent years we’ve actually survived. Based on the movies I’ve seen, here are some of the actors who lived to fight another day:

Time to go: Part 2

Bad attitudes don't help bad situations. The assistant editor was thrown into a bad situation but part of the problem was his personality. He was a deplorable person, which he admitted. He once called a meeting with three of us reporters to say we are the worse staff members ever. Morale had already been low, and he made it worse by insinuating we all were about to be fired (did I mention this was on my birthday). Yet when you asked for specific details of what we did wrong he couldn’t pinpoint them (sounds familiar). Ultimately the assistant editor was the one let go, and a new editor came in. Finally I would have the leadership, consistency and training I craved. Or so I thought. I was wrong. I thought things would change, and they did in some areas, but they stayed the same in too many others.

the silver fox

She found her first gray hair too!

Somebody grab a bottle of Clairol ASAP! The gray is coming! Yes, yours truly found her first gray hair on Saturday. There had been a series of false alarms (mainly because a certain white cat is always in my bed which leads to white fur always in my hair), but this time it is official. My dad went gray in his early 30s and I have several other cousins who got silver locs at a young age. It wasn't much of a surprise that I've found gray already.

Time to go: Part 1

Most people ask if I left the news industry because I didn’t like being a reporter. I loved it. By no means was I a world class journalist. Sure I was a good reporter, but I wasn’t GREAT. Still I loved being a reporter. Yes, there was little pay, late hours and no appreciation, but that didn’t outweigh my love of writing, meeting new people and telling their story and just being out and about. The real reason I left was because I was scared of one day hating it.