Don’t forget y’all…we’re meeting up here tomorrow to discuss Wench. See you then!
Lovegirl’s class is studying Mississippi. For the last few days I’ve heard about white tailed deer, magnolia trees, and wood ducks. Apparently they’ve been discussing music as well. And my abusive tendencies.
Were you able to read that?? Yeah, it says “I get the Mississippi blues when my Mom spanks me.” And the picture? That would be me beating her. Her bubble (she’s on the left) says “wah” – she’s crying. My bubble says “what!” – which is apparently what I said the last time she got a write up. That’s a write up I’m holding in my hand. And that red thing? Her “sore, red bottom.” I’m expecting a call from CPS any day now…
- I’m an aunt again. My brother and his wife had the baby yesterday. Hopefully we’ll see her before she’s thirty. The baby, not the wife. Sigh.
- FYI: T.arget has all of their winter cardigans on sale for $9. Or maybe $9.98, can’t remember. Anyhoo, I picked up a solid black one ’cause I didn’t have one – I didn’t stick around to see what other colors were available.
- I need a pistachio intervention. I have been knocking back pistachios like a madwoman. These salt and pepper pistachios are just dee-darn-licious. Yeah, I wanted to curse. But I’m working on that. Again.
- Lovegirl is in the midst of a read-a-thon at school. She’s pledged to read for 25 minutes a night. Do you know how many kiddie books we can go through in 25 minutes? I guess we’ll start on War and Peace next.
- Did you know J.esse Owen’s name was James Cleveland Owens? And that a teacher misunderstood him when he told her his name was J.C. and that’s how he became Jesse? Me either. But I do now. Thank you read-a-thon. Tomorrow I’ll fill y’all in on Bessie Coleman. Or not.
- Smoochy ran me hot by
demandingtrying to demand that I sit outside with Lovegirl while she plays. So not going to happen. I think the block is quiet and slow enough for her to play in the garage/driveway without me hovering over her the whole time. I check on her frequently, and I was good with that. Smoochy, not so much. Lovegirl may never again see the light of day – I’m not trying to argue with Smoochy or sit outside for hours at a time. What’s the worst that could happen? A vitamin D deficiency and a mild case of rickets…
- Speaking of interventions, I also need one for nail polish. I have no business buying any more nail polish for the next decade or so. That didn’t stop me from buying a greenish blue color at U.lta on Sunday. So purty!
- R.ush L.imbaugh had been taking shots at Mrs. O.bama’s figure and eating habits!
- I’m bored with food. I’m not sure how that happened, but nothing is appealing to me right now. Let me rephrase that – nothing healthy is appealing to me. I thought I’d get myself out of my food rut and cook a nice, healthy Sunday dinner – cabbage, baked chicken, rice. All I ate was the cabbage. And then couldn’t figure out why I was light-headed that night. I need something good, healthy, and “new” to eat – Jameil and KRock – I’m coming for your food blogs – help me out!
- Alright, I’m off to do some work. Oh wait, no I’m not. My Mama should be calling for our daily talk-while-she-commutes chat in 5, 4, 3…
What happened to Black History Month? I haven’t heard much about it, seen any specials on TV and were it not for the news anchor mentioning Garrett Morgan and the stoplight this morning, I might have forgotten all about it. Is it because I’m older? Has Black History Month somehow gone away? Is it because Obama is President?
When I was pregnant I just knew that when my little one was school-age I’d teach her all about Black History. I’d tell her about slavery, the struggle, determination, and ingenuity of our ancestors and give her the twice as good speech. I haven’t done any of that.
I’m conflicted y’all. How do you (if you do) teach your children about Black history without, well, fostering anger? It is hard for me – as an almost 40 year old woman – to read about and study Black history without anger. How do I teach my child about the past without planting seeds of anger in her little spirit? I can’t let her grow up thinking that she’s on equal footing because she isn’t. I don’t care how far we’ve come, racism is still alive and well and at some point it will affect her, no matter how subtly.
But I guess it is like everything else – I’ve just got to remember to be age appropriate with her and not start off with slavery or trying to recruit her into the Bla.ck P.anthers. We went to the library the other day and are reading about Ronald McN.air, Be.ssie Coleman and J.esse Owens. So far, so good. Though she was pissed as all get out when she realized “Ron” couldn’t check books out of the library just because he was black. Color her hot!
The other night I took her to see C.ornel West at JSU – color her unimpressed. I, on the other hand, was both encouraged and motivated by Dr. West’s speech.
What, if anything, have you done to celebrate Black History Month? Do you think there’s a need for Black History Month? What do you tell your children about Black History? (And though I think 99.99 percent of my readers are black, these questions are open to any and every body!)
Have a great week!
So my post about my first date coupled with Pserendipity’s post about dating expectations really got me to reminiscing over my
tawdry dating past. I have dated some capital L Losers! I’m so glad those dudes are not Mr. Nerd Girl I don’t know what to do. Thank God for Smoochy!
I was never a serial dater. Usually, if we went out? We ended up going out. I guess because I did all of my dating in college, who knows? Anyhow, my freshman year I dated this dude named Foots. Well, that was his last name. But it tickled me, so that’s what I called him. Yep, I’ve always been silly.
Foots was the cousin of my cousin’s boyfriend. See how that worked? Foots did not go to school on the yard. Foots didn’t go to school anywhere. Foots was a mechanic. No, no, not a mechanical engineer. Not an aviation mechanic. A straight up I- can-fix-your-carbureator mechanic. Oh yeah, I was a genius – well worth the tuition money my parents spent. We met at some picnic my cousin dragged me to. And we ended up going out to dinner. And then dating for the next four or five months. My Mama met Foots at Homecoming. She was not impressed. At all. But, everybody was dating somebody and I was not going to be left out. Besides Foots had a car, made good money and was always willing to take me out. So all was well in my little world. Until I realized I really didn’t like Foots. He was just something to keep me occupied.
So I decided to break up with Foots. One day he came to pick me up and I was like, “yeah, I don’t like you and don’t want to see you anymore.” Have I mentioned I’ve never been real smooth? Pretty much always straight to the point. He then proceeded to tell me in no uncertain terms that he was gonna whip my ass. Um, no. So I told him that wouldn’t be happening and I picked up a pipe that just so happened to be laying nearby (thank you Jesus!) and started swinging. I didn’t hit him, he didn’t hit me. A few days later he apologized and asked if we could get back together. Sir. Put down the crack you have got to be smoking. Hell no.
He called me a few more times and then decided that moving on from all of this goodness that is Nerd Girl was in his best interest. But not before he “stole” my car. While we were dating, my ’78 Honda Accord needed some minor repairs and since we were dating, and he was a mechanic, he fixed my ride. I offered to pay and he was like “nah.” You don’t have to tell me twice. But after the breakup he apparently changed his mind. I went outside one morning and my car was gone. Gone y’all. I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do. So I went inside and told my roommate that my car was gone. She was able to confirm that it was indeed no longer in the driveway. About 10 minutes after we finished our brilliant detective work, my phone rang. Oh yeah, it was Foots. “Missing something?’ “Where is my car?” “Until you pay me, I’m not bringing it back.” Seriously? This joker took my car hostage?
So I called his Mama. And my car was back in driveway in less than an hour. Mama Foots always did like me 🙂
My car was back, I was free to roam around the Bluff and date my next
victim boyfriend. You know, the one I met when I skated into him at the skating rink. But I guess that’s a whole ‘nother story for another day!
Foots will always be #1 on my “worst dude I ever dated” list. Who’s #1 on yours???
I was on the phone yesterday and the subject of first dates came up…I remember mine well.
It was 1989, senior year of high school, and I was a fly young thing of 15. Okay, I was a young thing of 15. The flyness had yet to appear. Anyhoo, I didn’t date
much at all. I went to school and hung out with my friends. Dudes weren’t even on my radar.
My best friend all through high school was a PK and her hormones kicked in well before mine did. She wanted to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with this dude – let’s call him Bobby, mostly ’cause that was his name – but her pastor dad told her she couldn’t go unless I went. I didn’t want to go. She begged me. Nope. Please. Okay. Problem was there was not a single dude I was interested in asking to the dance. So she told me not to worry – she’d find me a date. She suggested this guy who’d recently started going to her church. Okay, fine. I’m in. We’d meet the night of the Sadie Hawkins dance. My first date and I was going in blind.
The day of the dance rolled around and we planned our outfits, agreed on a pickup time, and I went to my bathroom to flip my hair and rim my eyes with blue eyeliner courtesy of Wet n Wild. What? It was the 80’s! Anyhoo, I heard the doorbell ring and after I waited a few minutes I went up front in all my primped and glossed glory. And there he was – my date. As gay as the day is long. On top of his head was some dry member of the curl family – Jheri, California, S – hell, I don’t know, his sweet little lips were pursed and he had to be at least 4 inches shorter than me. My parents were so damn happy they were about to bust! “You girls have a great time! No curfew! Stay out as long as you like! See you in the morning!”
And off we went. And I had a ball! My friend’s date showed up at some point in the evening, but by then we didn’t care. We were having such a good time just “us girls” that he was a total afterthought. And that was my first date. Do you remember yours? How was it?
Oh, you want pictorial evidence of the frivolity that took place that night? No problema. It’s a picture of a picture, but it’ll have to do! Enjoy 🙂