Monday, November 29, 2010
My cousin Chris -- who is one year older than me -- and I would make sleepover plans based around poring through that book and writing our letters to Santa about what we wanted.
I would usually go to his house (he had bunkbeds and a big wheel) and we would plan it out the night before as we lay in bed -- tomorrow we will get up and eat cereal, watch cartoons, then write our letters to Santa.
Then we would lay on his living room floor and slowly page by page go through the toy section of the Sears and JC Penney catalogs, claiming "that's mine!" and putting our initial on the thing that was "ours" and describing all the things we were going to do with the toys and making up stories and stuff.
I had a bit of a leg up because until I went to school, my mom was a stay-at-home mom and grad school student so she only worked one day a week -- on Saturdays. And her Saturday gig was in the toy section of Sears!
My daddy and I would go pick her up on Saturdays and I would have fixed in my head what I wanted and as I got close to it, I would look at it, point to it and ask if I could have it. My mom would say "no" so then I would show out in the store throwing a tantrum. My daddy hated that so he would give me what I wanted to shut me up.
Every week this happened.
Every week. (Take note new parents. Kids know how to work you!)
Friday, November 26, 2010
Anybody out there finding that they have become more emotional as they've grown older?
I swear I tear up over something new (and some old stuff, too!) everyday. I never used to be all waterworks like this. There was a time when I wondered if I had tear ducts.
But now, I can be watching television and tear up at a scene. I went to see "For Colored Girls" recently and would have bawled had I not been with some friends so I had to keep it together a little bit.
At work. In the car. In the grocery store. At dinner.
WHAT ARE ALL THESE TEARS ABOUT??
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Unfortunately, fake lashes are usually TOO long and look a bit more dramatic than what I'm trying to achieve which is a little more length.
Someone recommended a couple of years ago that I used a navy blue mascara to help my eyes pop more and earlier this year I went out and found a brand I liked that carried a nice deep blue. There were other colors as well, but I wasn't adventurous enough at the time to get purples and greens.
Well, now I need a new tube, but when I went to re-up on my navy blue a couple of weeks ago, it was gone. I've googled and apparently that color isn't carried anymore by that brand. Sigh.
I went to Sephora and they recommended this mascara from Dior in azure blue. OMG! My lashes look longer and the blue is so pretty on my eyes!
I'm planning to try some other mascara colors, such as green and purple, but right now I am pretty happy with this color and the length I get from this product.
Have you recently found a new makeup product that you recommend? Share in the comments.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
It feels odd to not be making lists and planning decorations and looking through recipes to see what new tasty thing I can add to my menu.
But while on one hand it's odd, on the other it's a relief. I love to cook big meals and love the family and fun that come with them, but the lead up and clean up always exhaust me.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
For example, I hate coconut. Hate. HATE. Nothing I ever taste with coconut in is ever going to be good to me. Won't matter how moist or pretty it is.
I also don't like banana-flavored stuff. Or nuts other than peanuts in my sweets. Or mango, apricot, guava -- none of that. Yuck.
So, I can't believe all the judges have liked all the ingredients in these various cakes and desserts.
How do they fairly and accurately judge? Any chefs out there?
Anonymous said...Thoughts? Comments?
The thing about this post is that the white guy gave up his seat to a black woman while a bunch of brothers stood by and let him. I mean, c'mon. Brothers should be wondering what this white guy sees in this black lady. I think one of them should have fallen off his chair to compete with the white guy. Do white guys see a woman, any woman, and feel compelled to be a gentlemen while a room full of black men do not? if so, that's sad and it speaks to why so many black women are considering their options.
SLS note: Posting anonymously makes you unknown to other posters, but not to me, so please adhere to the posting rule, i.e. use your inside voice, or I'll put you outside.
A couple of summers ago when Mr. SLS and I went to Hilton Head with my family, my uncle brought his girlfriend along. I fixed Mr. SLS's plate while uncle's girlfriend sat at the table waiting after fixing her plate. My uncle watched me bring my husband's plate to him and said very pointedly to his girlfriend who had been pressing him to get married: "See that is how you get a husband."
Now, my uncle is 60-some years old and has traditional views of the roles women play in a marriage. My father is also oldschool and loves my stepmom. She fixes his plate and is sometimes a shortorder cook for him, he makes sure she can buy shoes and handbags because she likes to shop and that her BMW is always in tiptop shape, among other things. My stepmom told me no one has ever loved her like my dad does. My dad has been happy for the past 20 years.
A friend of mine recalled a story about the way her mother-in-law's husband sat and waited for his plate to be made at a Thanksgiving dinner and how she told her husband if he EVER sat around waiting on her to do that he would be hungry (I think I'm remembering this right).
So here's the discussion point: Do you do this for your spouse/significant other? If so, why? If not, why?
Monday, November 15, 2010
I walked in and the bar seats were all filled with men -- all black except for one lone white guy. One guy was eating, everyone else was nursing a drink.
Lots of women (all black) were standing, waiting for seats to free up. O__-
And let me note that these were adults all well into their 30s.
I walked up to the one guy who was standing at the bar, tapped him and asked if I could steal his space for a minute to order a drink. He said sure, no problem and stepped out of the way. This left me standing between two seated guys -- one white, one black.
In the very few minutes that passed between me ordering my drink and my receiving it, the white guy offered me his seat. I said thanks and told him his next beer was on me. He said, thank you, but not necessary.
Now, I sat there for a good long time enjoying the live music and sipping on two, three drinks til my first girlfriend arrived and not naan one of the black dudes perched on those bar stools offered their seat to the many MANY ladies (all black) who were standing.
I *did* notice that quite a few of the prettiest women came over and hugged the white guy while the black dudes just...sat there. Sipping on their drinks. Not offering up their seats. Not saying hello. Nothing.
This all made me wonder: who raised these dudes? My brother is a hot ass mess. HOT.ASS.MESS I TELL YOU. But he would never sit when a lady is standing. Not ever. I know, because I have seen him in action AND ladies (neighbors, my grandma's friends) are always raving about how polite and mannerable he is, helping with groceries, fetching something, pumping gas, putting away the trash can.
So here's how I interpreted the situation: For the men on the stools, these women were not deserving of a seat. Or respect. Let 'em stand.
In my opinion, it's a sad, sad example of the state of male-female relations today. Sigh.
Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. What do you think?
I guess this chivalry thing is on a lot of folks minds because my friend Lottie blogged about it today, too.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
When I'm ready to go, I am rhet.ta.go. and I don't like having to do a bunch of waiting on other folks when I get ready to roll out.
In fact, though all of my cars haven't been two-seaters they have all been two door vehicles and I prefer that, too, because I control who gets in and out and when, which fits with my "don't want a bunch of mofos ridin' around in my car" stance.
I know this is hateful. I know it is. But...well, whatever. Ride in yo' shit, hell. I will meet you there and when I'm ready to go, I'm out. Win-win.
Monday, November 8, 2010
I love older homes with pocket doors, original wood floors and trim, wraparound porches, built-in shelves and the like. Here are a few pics of the styles of houses I prefer:
I fell in love with these kinds of houses after a sleepover with a friend from summer camp when I was in the 8th grade. Her parents owned an historic home and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
These homes are pretty expensive in all the various places I would consider living, so I'm a few years from being able to afford one, but as soon as I get my money right I will be moving myself into one of those homes.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
In any case, this morning my best guy friend called and left a message saying essentially: We need to TALK. Not that what's up BS via text and superficial ish via email. I need you to call me and talk to me and tell me how you are doing and what the hell is going on.
And he's right. With the exception of my friend Honeysmoke and my parents,, I've for the most part kept all my problems to myself. Which is why stress is eating away at me and causing issues with my health. And here's why that's particularly crazy regarding this friend: he has helped me through many crises. Supported me. Been my shoulder to cry on. Offered to kick asses. Offered his basement apartment to me as a refuge. Since college. COLLEGE.
So I'm going to call him and we'll have a long talk. Because you have to let a friend BE a friend. I don't have to carry all this by myself.
Friday, November 5, 2010
I've had this Netflix movie laying around for about a month now and finally watched it Wednesday night when I couldn't sleep. It was wonderful!
There's almost no dialogue so prepare to just ...watch and observe. No, this documentary is just a view of the lives of four babies from womb to walking. And often from their vantage point.
One thing I noted was how we might overprotect our children here in the U.S. And there's an extended temper tantrum by one kid that cracked me up.
I think anyone planning to be a parent should watch the movie because it definitely made me think, "well, if they can raise a healthy baby in that environment, why do we stress so much about every little bump and bruise?"
As a whole though, I feel the movie showed how much alike we are, despite our differences. OK, that will make sense if you watch the movie. I plan to add it to my permanent collection.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The first time I saw it was at a screening at NABJ before its release and it was a new "Love Jones" for me (another movie screened at NABJ. Ha!)
The combination of the music and the complexities of the love relationships in the movie always make me laugh, smile and cry.
Here's my favorite song from the soundtrack, Indie.Arie's "Get It Together."
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
I pay for Netflix, but don't use it enough. But when I think about getting rid of it, I suddenly have all those movies I meant to watch and I go pile up my list. The same list that's piled up from the last time I had this big "I need to see all of these movies!" moment.
I had a Coke Zero the other day on crushed ice and it was so good. I prefer Pellegrino to soda though, hands down. I always find it funny when people ask, "how can you drink that?" (we'll put aside the fact that it's just water with bubbles for right now) I think the same thing about room temperature still water. That's like spit to me. How in hell can people drink that?
I'm sitting in an office that's not where I usually work and there's a ticktocking clock next to me that I want to smash into a million little pieces. But working in this office I've realized that, while I'm more productive in this space, I'm prolly happier in cubeville. More interaction with people. Even the constant interruptions would be nice right now.
I don't drink caffeinated coffee if I can help it. If I consume caffeine anytime after about 3 p.m. I won't sleep at night.
Speaking of sleeping -- I haven't been. I try, but, nothing. And, for the past six months or so I've been under a lot of stress in pretty much every area of my life. Also, remember all that smiling and making pretend happy I noted a couple of posts back? Well, turns out my body wasn't feeling all that nice on the outside, hold the rest inside stuff and it has rebelled. In a serious way. My doctor has told me I have to calm the hell down and find some outlet like kickboxing to work out my stress.
I like the show "Castle" because I love its star, Nathan Fillion (Firefly and/or Serenity anyone?!). But this third season is not as good as the first two. I'm pretty bored with his neverending quips and the predictable storylines. The writers can do better. Much better. That said, I will still recommend it for a lazy Saturday viewing.
And on that note, I'm done. For now.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
During the 2008 election cycle my parents were at first a little leery of then-presidential candidate Barack Obama. He was young, fairly untried, and they felt more comfortable with Hillary Clinton's experience and with a former president as her husband they saw it as a two-for-one deal.
Still, once Obama won the nomination, my parents were on board. Not because he was black, though admittedly the historical nature of the election did speak to them, but because they were drawn to his call for change.
My mother, aunt and 80-some-year-old grandma got out and volunteered for voter registration efforts. They made calls, went door-to-door, signed people up at kiosks and churches and did their part to ensure that their candidate would win in November 2008.
One of the things my mother encountered several times during her voter registration push were ex-convicts who thought they couldn't vote because they had served time. But once my mother probed further she would find out that they were no longer on parole and (in my home state) once you get out of prison and complete the parole period, your voting rights are restored.
When she informed them of this, many of them cried. Cried. ::pausing while you take that in:: Cried because they could vote.
My mother's youngest brother has always been the black sheep of the family. He voted for the first time in 2008. He was 50-ish.
Late last year my mother and aunt (Grandma had to bow out this time) resumed their voter registration efforts. Why? Because in a casual conversation with that uncle above about midterm elections, he asked why he needed to vote again, wasn't 2008 enough? ::pausing again while you take that in::
Mama and Aunt Laura figured that he might not be the only person out there who held that view, so they revved up and started visiting homes all over the state and making calls and doing their part.
Now, if those two 60+ aged ladies with high blood pressure, sugar diabetes and other creaks and cracks can walk around in the hot and cold weather in the backwoods and unpaved roads of a Southern state to register voters, you can get to the polls and pull the lever or mark the X or punch the chad or whatever it is they do at your polling place, today.
So, I ask again, it's election day, what are YOU going to do?
::drops mic, steps off soapbox::