Confessions of a Beautiful Woman
Monday, January 30, 2006
The title of my second book is Confessions of a Beautiful Woman. It will be available on-line soon and before you start rollin’ your eyes and gettin’ all janky let me explain:
Confessions is a compilation of thoughts, essays and poetry that I have written over the last five years. I picked the ones that I really liked and included them in this book. I got the idea from Maya Angelou when Wouldn’t Take Nothing For My Journey Now was released. I am not comparing myself to Dr. Angelou as a writer, but I think my book is just as valid.
These thoughts, essays and poetry expose feelings that I know millions of women share. I know I’m not the only one that has gotten divorced or has a spoiled daughter or loved someone who was emotionally unavailable … I know I ain’t the only one! At the same time, I truly believe that ALL women are beautiful … some of us exhibit some ugly ways (and we need to cut that shit out!) but we are all beautiful. Therefore, these are the confessions of all beautiful women.
I told someone the title and they rolled their eyes at me like I was trying to be conceited or something! Not so! I’m not conceited … I am beautiful but that is beside the point. Hell, we all know that for every beautiful woman that you see there is a man somewhere who is tired of her ass! My point is that the person who rolled their eyes is a beautiful woman who doesn’t believe she is. A woman who can’t embrace her own beauty has a difficult time when others embrace theirs. For some reason the perception is that in order for me to say that I look good, that means that I’m implying that you don’t. Is that crazy?
I’ve never been the kind of woman who has to wait for a compliment. Don’t get it twisted I’m grateful when I get them. But I don’t need anyone to validate me. Now, if I was as dumb as a box of rocks than I should probably just sit my pretty behind down in a corner somewhere and shut the hell up. Thankfully, I’ve still got a brain cell or two left that never fail me. I’m the first one to point out my flaws: my feet are big, I’d like to be a little heavier and after 15 months of breast feeding I could really use a lift, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am a beautiful woman on the inside and the outside.
Embrace your beauty ladies!
Single and Saved
Friday, January 27, 2006
Okay, first of all I think everyone should go to church. I don’t want this post to come across as me bashing church or churchgoers but I do have issues.
I was raised in the church as many of us were. My family is filled with preachers. My mom, one of my fathers, grandmother and great-grandfather and at one point in my life I actually thought that I would be called to preach. I love the church and I enjoy the feeling of family and fellowship that usually accompanies church membership.
When I moved to VA it took me a while to find a church home but once I did I was thrilled. From the moment I walked in the door everyone was so friendly and loving and I believed that I had found my home. It was 1994, I was married and pregnant with my second child. Each time I entered the building I was greeted with, “Hey Sis, how’s it going?” “God Bless you Sis!” I got very involved in the church: I sang in the choir briefly, I taught Sunday school, I was part of the Praise Dance Team, I went to Wednesday night Bible study … everything … the whole shebang. I loved my church family and I thought they loved me.
Well, all that changed in 2000 when my husband and I decided to separate and eventually divorce. Suddenly, the people who once were so loving and friendly didn’t want to have anything to do with me. No more warm greetings. No more hugs. I felt like I was wearing a Scarlet A on my chest. Suddenly, because I was now a single woman I was the enemy. Married women saw me as a threat, single women saw me as competition, married men were afraid to speak and the single men … hell, there are no single men in church.
It was crazy! During the most difficult time in my life (my divorce) my (church) family literally turned their backs on me. I hadn’t done anything wrong but I was made to feel like I had. I was at a low point but there was no love, no compassion, just judgment. What pissed me off the most was when married women would martyr themselves and be applauded for that shit. I remember a married woman standing before the church talking about how her unsaved husband would come home drunk and had gambled away the mortgage money. She didn’t get mad and go off on him or make him feel bad … no, she just brought him upstairs, gave him a bath and put him to bed. She knew that God would provide. (Shaking my head) In the words of Sophia from The Color Purple: "You need to bash in his skull and think about Heaven later!"
Well, being the person that I am I took on the “kiss my ass” attitude. I decided to keep going to MY church and get MY word and I wouldn’t worry about those folks. That worked for a while but it still really hurt my feelings.
The one thing that I have noticed about being single and saved is that church folks seem to apply different standards to single women than they do to others. For example, I know that God sees sin as sin. There are no levels of sin. God doesn’t differentiate between ‘bad’ or ‘worse’ sins. Sin is sin. However, in the eyes of church folk, if you are a single woman the only sin that matters is SEX. I can disrespect my Mama and shoplift from 7-Eleven but I better not be having sex. So, imagine the looks on the faces of the congregation when I started bringing my new boyfriend to church. They didn’t see it as a good thing … you know, me trying to bring someone to the Lord. No! All they thought was that I was having sex. They didn’t care that this man and I prayed together and read the Bible together … none of that mattered. Finally, someone openly criticized my relationship and that was the last straw. It was time for me to leave. You know what is so funny? When I left, my phone was ringing off the hook with calls from church members wondering what happened. Church members who wanted to know why I left and took my fat tithe check with me. A posse of church ladies came to my house to talk to me and pray with me about my decision. Where was all this concern when I was going through my divorce? I needed the prayers of the church ladies then!
I have since started going to another church. It’s close to my house and I can go to the 7:30 service, get my word and come on home. I do miss the fellowship and the feeling of family. During this time my relationship with God hasn’t soured just my feelings toward His people.
Me and the Youngen
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
When you begin a journey to a new place you can’t help but look in the rear view mirror.
In 1990, nine months after my first marriage was annulled and four months after my son was born, I began a relationship with a younger man. I was twenty-six and he was twenty-one and believe me when I tell you, getting involved with someone – anyone – was the absolute furthest thing from my mind.
At that time I couldn’t imagine being in another relationship. After the heartbreak that I had suffered at the hands of the bigamist all I wanted to do was concentrate on my son. But after sitting in the house for over a year my older sister couldn’t take it anymore. She demanded that I come out with her and talk to someone other than my infant son. Reluctantly, I agreed and that was when I met J.
J was a big, strong, young Texan. The first time I saw him he had on a baseball cap and I couldn’t really see his face and I was far from impressed. In my eyes he was a big kid and I did not have time. The first club me and Sis went to was dry as hell so we left, went across the bridge and ended up someplace where there was a little more going on. J showed up again, this time without the cap. Big improvement. Still a big kid but very cute.
We danced a little and talked a little and by the end of the night I knew that I wanted to see him again. I was five years older than him and he thought he had hit the jackpot. I was fresh out of a marriage and was enjoying the ego boost. He was exactly what the doctor ordered.
At the time, J’s best friend was dating my sister on and off. The four of us would get together sometimes and we got along fairly well. After a few weeks my sister planned a get together at her house and invited “the boys” over. They brought an extra boy and we invited an extra woman. It was during the week and I had my son with me. I think it was a Monday night because I remember watching football. At some point during the evening I brought my sleeping baby into my sister’s bedroom and J received a signal from his boy to go with me. We sat and watched more football and at some point he decided to start kissing my fingers … that was not something I was used to and I didn’t know quite know how to respond. I mean, there was a houseful of people and my son was asleep right next to me. So, I decided it was time for me to go home.
I left the bedroom and called my sister into the kitchen where I told her that I had to get the baby home.
Sis: Why are you leaving?
Me: Your nephew is asleep and I’m tired.
Sis: What about J?
Me: What about him? He kissed my fingers!
Sis: For real?
Me: Yes for real.
Sis: Take him with you. I want to spend some time alone with Charles.
Me: What? I can’t take that boy home with me. How the hell is he going to get back to the (Navy) base?
Sis: Charles will swing by and pick him up on his way.
Me: That boy cannot spend the night at my house!
Sis: He won’t … Charles is going to be leaving soon. Pleeeeeeease! Take him with you!
My sister was a little desperate back in the day.
So, against my better judgment, I allowed the boy to accompany me back to my house. I bundled up my baby, got my coat and headed to the door. J, being the gentleman that he was decided to walk me to my car. When we got outside I told him to get in the car – he was coming with me.
J: What?
Me: Get in the car. You’re going to my house.
J: (dumbfounded … unaware of the arrangement I had made inside) How am I supposed to get home?
Me: Charles is going to pick you up.
J: Does he know that?
Me: Yes. Now get in the car.
We drove to my house in silence. He didn’t know what to expect. I knew exactly what to expect. It was Monday, I was tired and was not in the mood for any funny business. When we entered the house, I walked straight back to my son’s bedroom and took off his coat and shoes and lay him in the crib. He didn’t wake up once. He was such a good baby.
I rejoined J in the living room and I found him sitting in the middle of the sectional sofa looking all crazy. I sat down next to him and he started in with the kissing of the fingers again. This time I knew how to respond. J was an incredible kisser and his hands were so strong and … I don’t know. That was when my love for southern men and younger men began. Anyway, after a few more minutes of making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers there was a knock at the door. Thankfully, it was Charles – I wasn’t quite ready for this to happen.
So, the following weekend I’m at home with my son. I wasn’t doing anything so I decided to turn in early. I remember lying in the bed painting my nails when the phone rang. It was a little after ten o’clock, my baby was asleep and I wasn’t far behind him.
Me: Hello?
J: Hi. It’s J.
Me: Hi.
J: What are you doing?
Me: Nothing, why?
J: Mike was on his way to go see Donna and he wanted to know if he could bring me anywhere.
Me: Really?
J: Really. Do you feel like company?
Me: (Thinking that a visit after ten o’clock could only mean one thing) I could stand some company.
J: Good. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.
That was the beginning of my very first affair with a younger man. It lasted for about a year. We had a really good time together. He was twenty-one and was wide open. I was getting my confidence back and feeling stronger and more beautiful everyday that I was with him. It was not a core-shaking relationship. We didn't have great intellectual conversations or dine at fancy restaurants. We had a good time together. A really good time. Sadly, all good things must come to an end. He got stationed somewhere else and neither one of us could realistically do the long distance thing.
I think about him now and I still smile. I got married the second time about eighteen months after J and I broke up. He was convinced I got married so quickly because he wouldn’t marry me. What an ego! We've spoken several times over the years, usually on my birthday or Thanksgiving. I even saw him a few years ago when he was in town for a reunion with his Navy buddies. Obviously, it wasn’t the same. He’s still unmarried without children and he says that he has never met a woman who could meet the standard that I set 16 years ago.
J ... always the gentleman.
Do You Have a Plan B?
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Ford Motor Company announced yesterday that they would cut between 25,000 and 30,000 jobs and close 14 plants across the country. The Ford plant here in the Norfolk area, maker of the F150, was thankfully spared. This time.
This morning Good Morning America spotlighted two families that are directly affected by the shutdown of these plants. These are families that have lost their jobs after many, many years with Ford. They were devastated and I could feel the hopelessness through the television. They tried to keep a stiff upper lip but how do you bounce back? Can you imagine working for a company for decades and then finding out that now you have to figure out how to feed your family? I have a feeling that once the initial shock subsides these people will pick themselves up and carry on. What choice do they have?
How do you prepare for something like that?
I’ll be honest … financial security has always been my number one priority. I always want to know that I will have enough money to do whatever I have to do. I don’t like asking anybody for anything. I want to be able to take care of me and mine. I want to be able to provide for my children and my children’s children. Fear of being broke was one of the reasons why I had to leave my second husband. We were not on the same page when it came to finances and I refused to allow him to take me into poverty with his foolish spending habits. He always thought that we could live on love … oh please!
We have got to start thinking about the future. The secure job that you think you have may not be so secure. If you lost your job tomorrow would you be able to make it? I remember in 1997 I walked out of a good paying job because I was pissed off. I gave no thought to the fact that I had a husband and two children that depended on that paycheck. I ended up taking a job that paid $6.75 an hour just to help put food on the table. My husband was very supportive and didn’t make me feel bad but inside I was dying. I was forced to do a crappy job that was beneath me because I had no other option. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a firm believer in doing whatever you have to do in order to survive. Hell, I’d sell my ass to make sure that my children have food … of course I don’t know who the hell would wanna buy it … but my point is that we shouldn’t ever be without options.
We’ve got to always have a Plan B. We don’t know what tomorrow has in store for us and we don’t want to be caught with our pants down around our ankles. Especially when we have others that are depending on us.
Revelations From a Funeral
Sunday, January 22, 2006
I'm back from burying my Nana. I'm not a fan of funerals -- who is, right? But this one was nice. My family is wacko but the funeral was really nice. Nana lived in Los Angeles for the last twenty-something years but she grew up and lived in Atlantic City for the majority of her life and the service was in Jersey. Nana had three sons: my father and my two uncles. By the way, ya'll out on the west coast must have better water than we do here on the east because my two 70'ish gray haired uncles are FINE in comparison to my broke down lookin' 69 year old father. They are all over six feet tall, but my uncles are in shape, have beautiful teeth and just as suave as they wanna be . My father is not. Anyway ...My father, who is a pastor officiated the funeral and my mother (his ex-wife) agreed to play the piano for the service because he didn't have anyone else. My mother, is remarried to my step-father and has been since I was three years old. My step-father raised me and I am fiercely loyal to him. Needless to say, I was getting a little heated whenever my father (pastor) would make slick comments to my mother about 'when you get divorced I'm going to marry you again'. I wanted to slap him in the mouth! During the funeral he referred to my mother as his high school sweetheart and that he still loved her! I wonder how his girlfriend (who was at the funeral) felt about that! I'm sorry ... he is a straight up dog. My mother is polite but when we got in the parking lot she told me that she couldn't wait to get out of there because he was irritating.I have a cousin who is probably my age and I haven't seen since I don't know when. We'll call him Twan. Why did he come into the funeral with his hair relaxed and combed down straight looking like a reject from the Five Heartbeats? Is that what brothas do in Los Angeles in 2006? Relax their hair? Good Lord. And why, when he stood to make a tribute to Nana did he have a mini-tape recorder and record himself? Very weird.Anyway, I'm back home and the one thing that I walked away with was that my Nana was loved. And even though I didn't know most of the people in attendance, because we were family I felt loved. Does that make sense? It also made me look at my own familial and other personal relationships. And I walked away with this revelation: everybody does not have my best interest at heart. There are folks who actually mean to do me harm. I'm not being paranoid I'm just saying that in an effort for some folks to get what they want sometimes what they do will hurt you. I can't be specific right now but my point is I have so many people in my life that really do love me, to hold onto toxic relationships is sort of disrespectful to the ones that really care.Toxic relationships are relationships that poison you. Relationships that give you more pain than pleasure. The poison slowly enters your system and before you know it you're not the same as you were when the relationship started. One of the (good) things that my father said during the funeral was that we have to number our days. Figure out what is really important in our lives and nurture those things. Stop putting those things off. I have four brothers: (1) the oldest whose whereabouts are unknown (2) another older brother in Texas (3) a younger brother in Michigan and (4) the baby in Washington state. I can't stand the thought of not seeing them until one of my parents dies. This year I am making a plan to see each one of them. I can make the time and I have the money so no more excuses. I'll be in San Antonio in May for business so that's one trip ... now to plan the others.My mother sang a song yesterday at the funeral that just brought tears to my eyes:Though the load gets heavyYou're never left alone to bear it allFor He knowsYes He knowsJust how much we can bearI have heard and sung that song at least a million times in my lifetime but for some reason yesterday the words just gave me such joy.After Nana was buried everyone came back to the church to eat. I took pictures with my sisters (on my father's side) that I don't get to see that often ... hell I just met one of them over the summer. She is his "love" child. Go 'head, Rev ... walking around with your pastor's robe and illegimate daughter ... Ooops. I was talking to my fine uncle who lives in LA and he scolded me for not sending Nana my book. He asked me what it was about and I told him. He asked me if I thought it would make a good film. Of course, I said yes but I have no experience writing screenplays. He said he knows plenty of screenwriters and to send him the book. He could just be blowing smoke up my ass, but I'll send him the book and keep my fingers crossed. I was going to bring a few copies with me but I thought it would be trifling to promote my book at my Nana's funeral.Speaking of promotion, will ya'll please visit Serenity23's blog today (link is to the right). She is doing a Sunday Spotlight on ME. She interviewed me and is posting the interview on her blog today. Thanks!I was so happy to get home last night I didn't know what to do. I slept on the couch last night just because it's new and I felt like I hadn't spent enough time with it over the past few weeks. Also, I didn't want to hibernate in my room and isolate myself from the kids. So what did they do? Isolated themselves in their rooms ... every now and then they came downstairs ... my daughter laid down on the loveseat and spent about five minutes with me before she went back upstairs and my son (who is over six feet) laid down on the couch with me and said "I missed you Mom" and kissed me on the forehead. He hadn't brushed his teeth and it was nasty but I endured it because I missed him too.So today is all about me. I'm going to take a long hot bubble bath. Afterwards I'm going to do my hair and nails and maybe watch Lady Sings the Blues again. I love that movie. Later on I'm going to smother some pork chops and just chill.
100th Episode
Thursday, January 19, 2006
This is my 100th post and I thought about reposting my 101 Things About Me list but decided against it. (I tried to link but couldn't -- the post was on my birthday: 10/17/05). Anyway, I’ve written 99 posts with no repeats so why start now? Who in the world would believe that I would have so much to say? Me.I really do talk a lot. That’s a nice way of saying I have a big mouth.
My mood has stabilized and I’m feeling a little better now … my mind still feels a little fuzzy but I’m not biting anyone’s head off. Although I did want to slap the taste out of the receptionist's mouth at my dentist’s office this morning for losing my daughter’s appointment and causing me to run an hour behind schedule for the rest of the day. Heffa.
When I began blogging in June I had no idea what “blog” meant. All I knew was that it was an opportunity for me to write down some stuff that I was thinking. The thought of commenting or being commented on didn’t even enter my mind. All I knew was that I had some stuff to say and no one in particular to say it to.
This was the very first comment that I received on my blog:
I hope I don't sound insincere. Your comments on my post regarding the craft and the diligence have been very encouraging to me. Thanks for keeping me going. Congratulations on your career. Wow, "Author". Don't downplay it. Though your life may not have changed yet overtly, there are many things coming over you. Keep it up. See you on the bestseller list.
It was a comment on a post titled “Insecurity Sucks” dated July 18, 2005. The commenter’s words were encouraging and thoughtful. I like that.
I also enjoy being challenged by those who comment. I like the commenter who makes me think. I don’t like being attacked and thankfully I have only had to delete one rude comment and two spammers. For the most part, those that comment are intelligent and have something worthwhile to contribute. And if they don’t then they won’t comment – which is cool too. Like I said, my initial intent was not to garner comments just to release what was on my mind.
I really love reading other people’s blogs. It’s almost like people watching at the mall. I watch people and try to imagine what their lives are like. Sometimes I create little stories in my head surrounding these people … it’s fun. I do the same thing with you bloggers.
Why are you on-line at 3:00 a.m.?
How come some of you post pictures and real names of people?
How come some of you “protect the innocent”? or guilty?
Why do some of you sound so sad?
How can some of you make everyday life sound so interesting?
Are all your stories real? (Mine are)
Does your immediate circle know you blog? (Mine doesn't)
Why are some of you just like me?
I appreciate this outlet to unload some stuff. I appreciate your presence in my life regardless of how small. You are some of the smartest, most insightful people that I have ever had the pleasure of … meeting.
Have you ever heard the AirTran Airways radio commercial where the guy doesn’t want to sit next to a sheep? That thing cracks me up. The guy tells the sheep’s owner that he doesn’t want to sit next to the sheep on the plane. The owner is all mad now because the other guy has hurt the sheep’s feelings and he says in a heavy Scottish accent: “Now look what you’ve gone and done! You’ve hurt her feelings. She’s not made of stone you know … she’s made of flesh and blood and, and … wool … just like me and you!”
That wasn’t smart or insightful. Just silly.
Trying to Focus
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
I’m on the downside of a serious mood swing. I hate when this happens. I can’t control what I say or how I behave. It’s scary. I tend to alienate the one person that I don’t ever want to leave me. He understands but it still sucks. It takes me about twenty minutes to drive home from work and during that 20-minute drive yesterday I spent the entire time talking to myself out loud … convincing myself of why I should kick his ass to the curb. He hasn’t done anything … I was just in a mood. Today I’m fine. Except my fingers are swollen and I can’t get my rings off.
Are there any kind of drugs I could take to stabilize my mood swings? I guess I could just deal with it – I have been dealing with it for more than 20 years but it just seems that as I get older it gets worse.
My son told me last night that some girl at school rubbed his face and told him how smooth his skin was. This is a chick that he told me he wasn’t interested in … now he says he likes her but he doesn’t want to go out with her right now. Triflin’ heffa. He also told me that if he does start to “go out” with someone (whatever the hell that means) that he won’t tell me about it for two months – just in case it doesn’t work out. His reasoning is that he doesn’t want me to get all involved in his business if the relationship isn’t going anywhere. What? He just doesn't want me to scare the hell out of these girls -- which I love doing. I can't tell you how many times his friends have told him how mean they think I am.
I don’t like this. I want him to be careful. He’s a good person. A trusting person who always gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. Lovely qualities, right? I know … but all I see is a bunch of fast girls trying to get at my child. He’s very attractive and all these little heffas are thinking about is having some good-hair babies. (Don’t laugh!)
I swear, if my boss high-fives me one more time …
Why do certain members of my family think just because something is “white” that makes it better? (i.e., doctors, restaurants, etc.) I think she has serious issues regarding being Black and it pisses me off. She told me a story about how their family dentist did some really jacked up mess and I suggested that she get their records and find another dentist. She proceeded to tell me how prestigious he was and what a great neighborhood the office is in, and how all the “high society” people use this guy, blah blah blah … WTF? So, does that mean that you have to eat shit because it’s being served on a silver platter? Fuck that!
I am so not looking forward to going to this funeral on Saturday. I want to say good-bye to my Nana but there is always so much drama associated with funerals. It is for that reason that I’m driving up paying my respects and getting in the car and coming home. My father said he was going to reserve a room for me for two days … sorry Charlie – it ain’t happening. That sounds bad but I can’t help how I feel.
My sister’s husband and children think she has a drinking problem. She called me yesterday to tell me about it:
Sis: These people are really beginning to get on my nerves.
Me: Why?
Sis: They always have something to say whenever I have a glass of wine.
Me: A glass or a bottle?
Sis: Shut up! I’m serious – they are getting on my nerves so much that I’m going to have to start leaving the house in order to have a drink.
Me: Well, first of all let me say this … you are over 21 and should be able to have a drink whenever you want …
Sis: I know, right!
Me: But on the other hand … if you feel like you have to hide it from them maybe you do have a problem. Do you drink everyday?
Sis: Yes. I have the bottle on my nightstand, I go in my room and have a drink.
Me: On your nightstand? Why the hell is it on your nightstand?
Sis: Where should it be?
Me: Downstairs in the wine rack, maybe?
Sis: Then I have to go downstairs to get it … (whining)
Me: (laughing) Okay, for real … I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you need to take the wine bottle out of your bedroom and you need to stop sneaking to drink. If you really believe that you’re not doing anything wrong than you shouldn’t have to hide it.
Sis: You’re right. I keep telling **husband** that I’m less bitchy and I don’t complain as much …
Me: You need to stop self-medicating with alcohol. You need to figure out why you’re so bitchy and complain all the time and fix that.
Sis: Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll try to go back to just drinking on Friday nights.
Me: Maybe you should.
My opinion: My sister drinks too damn much. When she said that the bottle was in her bedroom I almost fell off my chair. I don’t want to be a watchdog, especially since I also enjoy a glass of wine with my dinner about two or three times a week.
It's Not Weird ... It's Just Vegas
Monday, January 16, 2006
I had a great time in Vegas. I enjoyed every minute of my stay there. We dined at great restaurants (Mon Ami Gabi, Mesa Grill) , saw some good shows (George Wallace), spent time at the Mandalay Bay Spa and The House of Blues and I did more shopping than I should have. What the hell? It was my vacation, right?
However, I’m not ashamed to say that when I stepped off the plane I felt like Ellie Mae Clampitt arriving in Beverly Hills for the first time. I’m not naïve. I’m not some dumb hick who hasn’t been anywhere … but damn … Vegas is nuts. In a good way – I guess. When I was sharing some of my stories with a man during my return flight he smiled, shrugged and said, “It’s not weird, it’s just Vegas.” Let me elaborate.
Shopping at Bernini – Beautiful Italian clothing store. I tried on a pair of jeans that fit perfectly – like a glove. When I came out of the dressing room, the smarmy salesman looked me up and down and says with a very thick Italian accent, “You need a smaller size, baby.” The only way I was fitting into a smaller size would be to paint them on.
Brides – I must have seen a dozen brides if I saw one. Brides in white gowns, brides in jeans … I saw one bride in a Supergirl outfit – with a cape and tights and another in a white bodysuit and white boots. Yeah, that’s a great story for the grandkids.
Weddings – Of course. I saw two weddings: one was in a gondola in the middle of the Venetian Hotel and the other was also in the Venetian, but on dry land.
M&M’s – Why is M&M World right in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip? What does the little candy that melts in your mouth not in your hand have to do with Vegas?
Cleavage – I understand you just bought them and you want to show them off, but damn! Do I need to see it? Seriously, it’s forty degrees and the wind is blowing – is a tube top really appropriate?
Modesty in the Locker Room – There is none. I don’t frequent the gym so I don’t know what goes on in the ladies’ locker room. So, imagine my surprise when I completed my spa treatment and entered the common area and saw more naked bodies than I have ever seen in one place. The pool area was clothing optional and most opted not to wear any.
Photo Magic – We visited a photo shop where the photographer will put your face on someone else’s body. I’d post the picture I took … but (1) I don’t know how and (2) I don’t want to incriminate myself.
A good time was had by all. I would definitely go back but not anytime soon. And when I do go back it will be for a shorter stay. I didn’t do any gambling – just not my thing but I did get a chance to do everything else that I wanted to do. I’m glad to be home but it sucks that I need to get some rest to recover from the vacation. I had to come to work today and my body is still on west coast time.
I can’t wait to start reading to see what you all have been up to.
I'm Back
I'm finally home. I'm exhausted. Thank you all so much for your well wishes. I have to get rested so I can get back on the road for the funeral next weekend.I'll post more about my trip a little later. Right now ... I'm going to bed.((((hugs))))Peace
Joy and Pain
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I just printed my boarding pass and I'm preparing for this trip. I wish I could get excited.My father called me late last night and told me that my Nana had passed away yesterday afternoon. Nana was in her nineties and not in the best of health and she finally told my uncle that she was tired and was ready to go home. And that is what she did.The one thing I remember about my Nana was that she used to call me "Young Lady". I haven't seen her in years. Before Christmas my father told me to send Nana a copy of my book. I never got around to it and now it's too late.I mentioned here before about my Mama's indiscretion forty-one years ago. Without going into too much detail just let me say this: there are three men that claim me as a daughter: my stepfather (my mother's current husband) who raised me; my mother's first husband (who called me last night); and my biological father (the married man that knocked up my mom 41 years ago). Still with me?I know that the "Dad" who called me last night knows the truth. We've discussed it and as far as he's concerned I'm his kid. But I wonder if my Nana went to sleep believing that I was her granddaughter.
Travel T ips
Monday, January 09, 2006
I’ll be leaving for Vegas in a couple of days and instead of being excited about the trip – I’m just tripping.
First of all, I’m not a fan of air travel. I’ll get over that thanks to Mr. V.
Secondly, what should I pack? I’m thinking casual during the day (slacks and sweaters) but what about the evenings? Is every event dressy? We may hit a casino or two (I’m not a big gambler) and we’ll be going to the Flamingo to see George Wallace. My sister may want to go to a club. Oh yeah, we’re going to the spa at Mandalay Bay, too.
Other than that, I plan to do some shopping and to hit some nice restaurants. I know I must sound like a fuddy-duddy … but for real, I don’t go to clubs and party all night now so I’m not gonna switch gears because I’m on vacation. I love to eat out, I love to drink red wine and/or Cosmopolitans and I don’t mind throwing some dough into a slot machine.
What should I wear? This wouldn't be an issue if it was summertime: the less clothing the better.
Side Note: So, I'm chillin in the living room with the object of my affection. He looks at the diamond ring that I wear on the middle finger of my left hand (that I bought) and he says, "You should switch that to your other finger."
Me: What other finger?
Him: Your ring finger
Me: Why?
Him: To show that you're taken
Me: (looking at both his hands) And what do you wear to show that you're taken.
Him: touche'
Needless to say, my ring is staying on my middle finger.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
| Your IQ Is 105 |
Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average
Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius
Your Mathematical Intelligence is Below Average
Your General Knowledge is Above Average |
Okay ... so I can't think logically ... but I speak so well that you'd never know it!!! Yeah me!
Small Reminders
Friday, January 06, 2006
I don't obsess about age. Except for when I turned 30 and had a breakdown -- but other than that I don't obsess about my age.Seriously, I enjoy being in my forties. I'm smarter now than I was when I was in my twenties, I damn sure look better and I just feel good about me. However, sometimes I am very gently reminded that I am a middle-aged woman and I hate that. Take last night for example. Thursday night is dance class. I signed up for the class in October because my younger sister (by three years) convinced me to. My beloved and I had a horrible falling out and my sister knew that I needed something to do to keep my mind occupied and to get the hell off the couch and out of the house. Even if it was for only one night a week. Don't get me wrong, I love the class. It really is fun and last year when I went to the recital and saw my daughter, two nieces and my sister on stage I was really jealous.So now I'm part of the class. The class is for women/men who are my age -- or around my age. But there are a smattering of twenty-somethings in there too. I never really paid them any mind but last night a new girl joined the class. I can't tell how old she is but she's younger than me and she can dance her natural behind off. I hate to admit this because I am so ... what's the word ... conceited and full of myself, but I was intimidated by this chick. She is so good and I am so, well, NOT. I don't have two left feet -- I can dance. But this girl clearly has some natural ability that I was just not blessed with.
A Mother First
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Wicked Stepmother: You know, **Object**, you are just like your father. You need a lot of love and a woman with children will never put you first.
The object of my affection spent New Years up north with his father and stepmother. We had a fight before he left and we’ve since patched things up, however, the above were the words of advice that the stepmother imparted to him during his visit.
First of all: Mind your own business!
Second of all: You’re right. A good mother never puts a man in front of her children!
Thirdly: You ain’t got no kids so you have no opinion! I can’t even tell you why this burns me up so much. He understands his place in my life and if he had a problem with it he would have walked years ago – and I would have held the door for him.
And while I’m on the subject, it kinda pisses me off that a member of my family has made the following statement in the past:
Family Member: You guys should get married
Me: He and the kids don’t really have a relationship that would be conducive to us getting married
Family Member: Well, the kids are just gonna have to understand. Aren’t you supposed to be happy, too?
To you, I say, Bite Me! Just because you couldn’t survive without a husband doesn’t mean that shit applies to me.
I will not be happy playing referee between my man and my kids. I want my kids to turn the key on their home and be happy to be there. Their home should be their sanctuary – not a place they dread going to because “Mommy’s husband” is there. Just because I love him doesn’t mean they have to love him.
I feel very strongly about this. I always want my kids to know that they come first. I don’t want them to think for one minute that I put a man before them. I’m all they have and once they leave and have lives of their own then I’ll feel comfortable giving my undivided attention to a man. Until then … I’m a mother first. Don't get it twisted...I handle mine (and his) but never at the expense of my kids.
Perhaps I would feel differently if my kids were younger or if I had never been married. I don’t know.
Living Life?
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Have you ever been broke? I mean, really broke:
Always having month left after the money.
Having to rob Peter to pay Paul every month.
Never being able to afford to eat out.
Telling people that you hate to shop because you actually couldn’t afford to.
Buying a family pack of chicken wings and a box of Bisquick to last for two weeks because that’s all you could afford.
Playing ‘race to the bank’ because you floated a check for groceries two days before payday.
Never knowing when your bills are due because it didn’t really matter – they got paid when you had the money.
Not answering the phone because you knew it was someone looking for a late payment.
Not knowing the meaning of “disposable income”
Breathing a sigh of relief between paydays when you realize that you hadn’t bounced a check in two weeks.
Owning two pair of shoes – a dressy pair and a casual pair. Oh yeah, and a pair of tennis shoes that you picked up at the grocery store.
That was me.
Struggle was a way of life. I was consumed with figuring out how to survive. I wasn’t living my life. I was just trying to survive. It was tough but I had done it for so long that I never even thought about it. I went to the grocery store and laundromat every two weeks because that was when I had the money to do so. What was interesting was that most people knew nothing of my situation. I didn’t look broke and I sure didn’t talk about it. When I was asked to accompany my co-workers out for lunch I would always ‘be too swamped’ to leave the office. When they were gone I would close my door and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I brought from home. I knew exactly how much of my phone and light bills needed to be paid each month in order to keep them on. I did not have cable.
How did I get to that point? When I was seventeen I applied for a student Mastercard with a credit limit of $300 and it was all downhill from there. I made some of the worst financial mistakes of my life between the ages of 17 and 24. Spend Spend Spend. At some point after I turned 25 I thought I had it under control but I dug myself back into a hole again. Unfortunately, I had cosigned a loan for my first husband and when we split he stopped paying on it and they came after me. Same for his car … I told them to repossess that car because I wasn’t paying for that shit.
Month after month, year after year of struggle. Finally, I decided that I had had enough. I was divorced for the second time and I had two children and I really wanted better for them. I knew that there was no magic in what had to be done. I wasn’t going to win the lottery and I didn’t have any rich relatives that were knocking on death’s door. I had to work hard to correct the situation that I had gotten myself into. Eventually, I began to make more money and slowly and methodically I paid off old debts. In 2002 I made the decision to buy a home. I’ve made pretty smart career moves and because of my fear of being broke again I make very smart spending choices.
Okay, so now at 41 I’m no longer broke. That’s a good thing and I’m thrilled with being able to eat out and shop when I want without fear. But since my mind was consumed with mere survival for more than twenty years how do I switch gears and concentrate on living?
I want to live my life. Enjoy the fruit of the labor but I’m not sure I know how to do that.
I’m reading The Purpose Driven Life again trying to figure out what the hell my purpose is. I know that the bottom line of the book is that my purpose is to serve God. I know that. He created me for his purpose – not for my own. I don’t know what He wants me to do. I suppose if I ask Him he’ll tell me. I’ve told people that my purpose is to raise my kids. I believe that but in less than ten years they will be grown – then what?
