Things I Wonder About - Part 2

I didn't realize it had been so long, but a little over two years ago, I wrote a blog about things I wonder about (http://40somethingsistah.blogspot.com/2015/08/things-i-wonder-about.html).  I've been wondering about some new things recently.

... and just like last time, let's just get right to it.  No need for a fancy intro.

1.   Why do people pay more money to see a movie at a different time of day?  I have NEVER understood that.  I only do matinees.  It’s the same damn movie.  Why would I pay more to see it at night when I can save money seeing it earlier in the day?  Why?  The only time you catch me at the movies at night is at the $1.50 theater.

Wait.  Do they still have those?  Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a $1.50 theater in a while.

2.  Why do people eat unhealthy foods and then wash it down with a diet soda?  You’ve just consumed a fatty, greasy burger and a plate of fries, but you worry about the calories in your drink?  Does that zero calorie soda cancel out the tens of thousands of calories from the burger and fries? 

3.  I wonder this about myself.  I love the smell and flavor of coconut, but I hate actual coconut.  It’s a texture thing for me.  I can drink and enjoy a pina colada, but I will throw a piece of coconut cake in the trash.  The texture of coconut is combination of pasty, gritty, and gummy to me.  But here’s the kicker.  You put some Girl Scout cookies (those caramel delights, samoas, or whatever they’re called) in front of me, and I will straight eat the whole dang box.  The entire box.  I just can’t figure that one out.

4.  Why do some families fall apart at the seams when loved ones pass away?  Was Mama / Daddy / Granddaddy / Big Mama really the glue that held the family together?    

5.  Why is it that people with the nastiest attitudes always seem to work in customer service?  Do companies do screenings or practice calls / scenarios before they hire these folks? 

6.  Black Trump supporters?!?!?!?  What?  THE?  Hell?  Beelzebub, one of the many names I have for Trump, has NEVER done anything for Black folks, so how can they ride for him?  All Black Trump supporters have been officially relieved of their duties.  Their Black cards are hereby permanently revoked, they are banned from all cookouts, and they are eligible for trade in the racial draft.  

7. Why does congress keep offering up “thoughts and prayers” when there’s a mass gun shooting in the United States instead of offering up effective gun control legislation so the shootings can end?  Apparently, the thoughts and prayers ain’t working, so it’s time to DO SOMETHING.

8.  Why is it when a Black woman voices her opinion or concern about something, she’s “angry” instead of “assertive”?  Becky can debate and belabor an issue until the cows come home and she’s considered “passionate”, but let Shaniqua express her opinion.  She gets labelled as combative.

9.  I don’t know about you, but I wonder about “Christians” sometimes.  The Alabama senate candidate that’s been accused of molesting teenaged girls over several years has the support of 53 pastors.  FIFTY-THREE pastors … of churches that people go to weekly to hear a word from God and to be spiritually fed.  

It just makes me wonder.  What Bible are these “pastors” reading and studying from?  What God are these pastors following where they can openly endorse and support a man who may have molested several teen-aged girls.  My bad.  These must be the same pastors who supported Beelzebub for President.  What was I thinking, right?   [Insert eye roll eye HERE.]

10.  Does anybody know or care who won the Miss Universe pageant when the entire world fell in love with Miss Jamaica, Davina Bennett?  Yes, I know I could Google who the winner was, but Davina Bennett is the real MVP.  Melanin poppin’.  Afro perfection personified.  And when she stepped out on the runway in those yellow dresses looking like a sun-kissed goddess who descended to this earth straight from Heaven’s pearly gates … CHILE!!!!!  Even God had to jump back and kiss himself over this glorious creation.  I need her image immortalized into a doll for my daughter to add to her #blackgirlmagic collection.

The things I wonder about ...

Halloween House Rules

It's almost Halloween!  In a couple days, there will be ghosts, goblins, princesses, and superheroes at my door trick-or-treating.  Over the years, I've come up with a few house rules for the neighborhood folks that will be coming through on Halloween night.  Thought I'd share them with you.

Halloween 2015.  My kids dressed up as Ice Cube and Doc McStuffins.  

1.  Kids with cute or clever costumes, big smiles, puppy dog eyes, and who say "thank you" get more candy.

2.  I'm a sucker for a baby in a Halloween costume.  Cuteness overload!!!

My kids on their first Halloweens ... Randal (2004) and Sydney (2013).

3.  I give out candy from 6 to 8pm.  At 8, the porch light goes off.  Ring my doorbell after 8pm, and you'll be standing on my porch until next Halloween waiting for candy.

4.  Hands off my candy bowl!!!  Don't go trying to look in my bowl and ask for your favorites.  You get what you get.  How does that saying go?  Beggars can't be choosy.

5.  Don't scare the lady who gives you FREE candy.  I don't do surprises.  And for the parents standing around watching the scaring, don't be mad if an expletive slips.  I'm just saying ...

6.  This is Halloween.  NO SOLICITORS!!!  I've had a few people try this on Halloween over the years.  Whatever it is you're selling, I ain't buying it.  And if you don't leave my porch when asked, the next thing you will be talking to is the door that's been closed in your face.

7.  Teenagers with no costumes, who use plastic shopping bags to collect Halloween candy, and act like it pains them to muster up an audible sentence (or Heaven forbid a "thank you") get no candy and plenty of side eyes.

8.  DO NOT SHOW UP AT MY HOUSE IN BLACK FACE.  Seriously.  Don't do it.  It's 2017.  Do I really have to explain why not?

Happy Halloween, y'all!  Be safe out there, and have fun.

Halloween 2016.  The kids dressed as Beelzebub and Princess Tiana.

My Girls' Trip Experience

One of my closest and dearest friends just recently had her 50th birthday.  To celebrate, she put together a girlfriends' trip to Jamaica.  I was fortunate enough to go, and I had an absolute blast.

And to think ... I almost didn't go.  When my friend started planning the trip at the end of last year, I think I tried to come up with every excuse in the book NOT to go.  I knew my husband and I would probably have to purchase another vehicle this year.  And we did because my old reliable car with nearly 400,000 miles on it, Aunt Viv the Volvo, made her transition to that great salvage yard in the sky.  Then, my daughter started a private school this year (translation ... monthly tuition).  My son plays in sports leagues and on travel teams that require all kinds of participation fees.  I told myself that paying for the trip with all the financial responsibilities we had would be irresponsible.  But then my husband was like, "You're going.  Period."

Well, that ended that and dammit, I went.  And lemme tell you something ... I am so glad I had the chance to go, and I'm thankful my husband insisted.  I so needed that vacation.

First and foremost, I got the opportunity to hang out with nine awesome sistahfriends.  

Yo's Fifty Posse

We talked and laughed a lot.  We ate well.  We went on adventures together.  I knew most of the ladies who went on the trip ahead of time, and I was fortunate enough to make new sistahfriends.  It was an empowering experience to be around so many beautiful Black women.  And we did not go unnoticed at our resort, either.  Remember that song by Klymaxx ... "The Men All Pause"?  That is EXACTLY what happened when we walked 10 deep into a room (lol).  Heads turned.  People stared.  See the picture below.  We straight shut ish down on our last night at the resort ... Black and sexy night (lol).

I also got a chance to relax, relate, and release.  It was FANNNNN-tastic and just what I needed.  I got the chance to take naps.  (Yes ... plural!!!!)  I was able to sit out on the beach and let the sun kiss and warm my skin over and over again.  I didn't have to worry about packing school lunches, helping with homework, doing laundry or housework, preparing dinner, or running out the house to get my kids to their destinations on time.  It was great having someone waiting on and catering to me for a change.  I didn't have to make my own bed.  My meals were prepared for me.  It was a nice change of pace, and I went back home feeling refreshed, recharged, and renewed. 

And the pictures I took during the trip were phenomenal!!!  What?!?!?!?  The scenery.  The island and beach selfies.  I couldn't take a bad picture.  I created many wonderful memories and have the pictures to prove it.

I took the best selfies of my entire life in Jamaica!  (lol)

Me with the birthday girl ... and a dear friend.

Sistahfriends

Jamaica is BEAUTIFUL!!!

The obligatory "feet on the beach" photo.  ☺

Why didn't I take a vacation sooner?  As a wife and mother, I feel like I take care of everything and everyone all the time, and I have failed time and time again at giving myself the opportunity to unwind and take care of me.  This girlfriends' trip was just what the doctor ordered.   

7 Ways To Make Work Suck Less

I was thinking the other day that I have been working ever since I graduated from college, and I graduated from college 22 years ago, y’all.  22 YEARS AGO!!!  I’m at that point in my career when I think I’ve come a long way, but then I look ahead and realize that I still have several more years of work before I hit those golden retirement years.

Isn’t it funny how your mid-career and mid-life crisis hit around the same time?  I digress …

I have definitely learned some valuable lessons over these 22 years of working with many different people in many different places.  I’ll share a few with you.

Here are seven ways to make work suck less (lol):

1.  Decorate your space.  Let’s face it.  We’re at work for 8+ hours a day for 5 days a week.  We spend a considerable amount of time at work, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable and at home.  Who wants to stare at blank, drab walls all day?  Decorate your work space.  Bring in pictures of your loved ones.  Brighten your space with a lamp.  Add a plant or flowers to the office or cubicle.  Cover your cubicle walls with contact paper with a bold pattern.  Get creative.  It’s amazing how simple things can lighten your mood.  And let’s be real.  Sometimes you need the pictures of the spouse and kids to remind you of why you are working … to provide them with a good life.  And sometimes you need the pictures as a reminder not to go off the deep end.  Look at those pictures and repeat the things you know you need that paycheck for … mortgage, groceries, daycare, tuition, car payment, vacation, etc (lol).

Cubicle Sweet Cubicle

"Black Girl Magic" Wall

2.  Play some music.  Keep an iPod and a speaker or earbuds at your desk and have a playlist going to get you through the day.  Music is good for the soul.

3.  Take breaks.  This sounds simple enough, but I have lost count of the times that I have been so busy and consumed with work during the day that I don’t realize I didn’t take a break until it’s time to go home.  You need that time to unwind to keep your sanity.  Take a walk around the parking lot or deck.  Get out of the office and go to lunch.  Just get up from your desk and clear your head.  The break will do you some good.

4.  Avoid negativity or your negative coworkers.  That coworker that’s always complaining but never offers any solutions?  Yeah … steer clear of Doug or Debbie Downer.  Don’t get sucked into their pity parties. 

5.  Avoid all office gossip.  For real.  For real.  Run away like Usain Bolt when folks start talking.  When stuff starts to hit the fan around the office, you don’t want your name attached to any mess or messiness.  You hear folks talking?  Keep it moving.

6.  Stay away from the office “Becky” or “Jeff”.  Who are Becky and Jeff, you ask?  They are the backstabbers.  They are the smile-in-your-face but talk-behind-your-back and throw-you-under-the-bus coworkers.  They are the insecure ones who are always figuratively (and sometimes literally) shouting “look at me!” and reminding folks every chance they get how they worked hard to make their way up the ladder.  They are also the same ones in the corner pouting when others in the office are getting some shine.  They hate when you call them out for being wrong or messy, and they throw a loud temper tantrum about it until you ask them to repeat themselves.  Then, all of a sudden, they are church mouse quiet.  Every office has a “Becky” or a “Jeff”.  If they speak to you, be cordial and say “hello”, but keep it moving.  Becky and Jeff are not to be trusted.  Disclaimer – These are generic names that I randomly chose, so don’t go getting all in your feelings if your name happens to be Becky or Jeff … unless, of course, YOU are your office’s Becky or Jeff (lol).

7.  Your coworkers are not your friends, so keep your private life private.  Seriously, keep your work life and private life separate.  The workplace can be cut-throat at times.  Don’t share your personal business with people that aren’t in your inner circle.  Your coworkers don’t need to know you like that, and you don’t need them knowing anything they could possibly use against you later.  Be careful when choosing which coworkers to connect with on social media sites.  To be safe, don’t connect with them at all.

Follow these rules to help eliminate workplace drama and stress and to attempt to create a more productive work environment.  Give ‘em a try!

Damn, Sammy! : The New Look Ain't A Good One

Sammy Sosa (sigh).  Where to start?

I’m sure by now, many of you have seen a new picture of Sammy Sosa that emerged last week.  If you will recall a few years ago, Sammy Sosa bleached his skin.  He went from being creamy caramel brown to a pasty vanilla.  The newest picture of him went viral last week, and he kinda looks like strawberry Nesquik to me.  I’m still not sure if that was really his skin color or if it was the pink shirt and hat he was wearing in the picture that gave him a pink glow.

Either way, he looks ridiculous.

I will admit that I laughed so hard at times that I laughed myself to tears at all the memes of Sammy Sosa that appeared on social media last week, especially on Black Twitter.  Some of those memes?  Straight comedy, y’all (lol).  Straight comedy.

But after the laughter subsided, a feeling came over me that I cannot accurately describe.  I’m not sure if it was sadness.  Disbelief?  Maybe.  Perhaps it was pity.

Look … when I was growing up, I was teased and picked on a lot for being dark-skinned.  I was called ugly and unattractive by kids my age and by some "adults".  It was hard not to internalize those insults people constantly hurled at me. As if those coming-of-age years aren’t already awkward enough, and then adding to that the low self-esteem I had because of things people would say about and to me every day.  Every single day.

Looking back, perhaps it was just the ass-backward town I grew up in because when I went to Florida every summer to visit my Mama’s family, when I went to summer camps, when I went away to the South Carolina Governor’s School for Science and Math my junior and senior years of high school, when I went away to college, and when I moved away from home and started living on my own, everything was different and people treated me differently.  All those years of being made to feel less than because of my skin tone took a toll because I initially felt suspicious of anyone who gave me real compliments.  Instead of “You’re pretty for a dark girl”, I started to hear “You’re pretty.”  Period.

It took a long time to undo all the damage of all those hurtful words from my childhood and to claim and embrace my Beautiful Black Queen status.

So in a crazy kind of way, I get it.  I understand how words can cut so deeply that they leave lasting scars on your psyche.  But even after enduring years of backhanded compliments, teasing, and insults, I never thought of bleaching my skin, and I never wanted to be white.  THAT part, I don’t get and can’t understand.

In a previous interview on the subject of Sosa lightening his skin, he said, “It’s a bleaching cream that I apply before going to bed and whitens my skin some.  It’s a cream that I have, that I use to soften [my skin], but has bleached me some. I’m not a racist, I live my life happily.” 

So this new Sammy Sosa?  I don’t know if I want to give him a hug or smack him upside the head and ask him what the hell is he thinking.  I guess it all boils down to doing whatever it is you need to do to feel better about yourself.  But when feeling better about yourself involves drastically changing your natural skin color and becoming a totally different person, that’s just sad.

Extremely sad.

I Love My Locs ... But Not Your Assumptions

The last relaxer I put in my hair was way back in 1999.  At the time, I didn’t make an intentional decision to wear my hair natural.  I wanted to rock micro-braids, and my hairstylist advised I would have better results with the braids if my hair wasn’t chemically treated.  I wore my hair in braids and twists for a few years.  Before I knew it, I had a head full of natural hair and an afro reminiscent of the one Angela Davis rocked back in the day.  It was fierce!!!

Even though I wore my hair in braids and twists for years, I was always attracted to locs.  Locs are and have always been simply beautiful to me.  And if they are well-maintained (because we all know some folks don’t always regularly maintain their locs), I feel they look so stately and regal.  When I was pregnant with my son back in 2003, I decided to bite the bullet and loc my hair.  It was the best hair decision I have ever made.

Pipe cleaner curls

This October, I will be celebrating my 14^th year of wearing my hair in locs.  My loc-aversary, if you will.  What I have found over these many years is that because I have locs, people make certain assumptions either about me or my hair.

Curled locs

I wear my hair in locs, so I must be from Jamaica.  You read that right.  You would be amazed how many times I have been asked if I was from Jamaica.  If by Jamaica you mean my hometown of Anderson, South Carolina, then sure.  I’m Jamaican.  Hey, mon!!

I wear my hair in locs, so I must smoke weed.  I do not nor have I ever smoked weed, and I didn’t realize how many people really think weed-smoking is a prerequisite for wearing your hair in locs.  Go figure.

I wear my hair in locs, so I don’t wash my hair.  Here’s a newsflash.  My locs?  Hair.  The hair is uncombed, not unwashed.  So … I use shampoo and water just like everybody else.

I wear my hair in locs, so I have a criminal record.  Excuse me.  What the hell kind of assumption is that?  I am college educated and gainfully employed.  I don’t have a criminal record.  I’ve never been in jail.  I mean … really?!?!?  The fact that someone would equate locs with criminality does make me want to smack ‘em upside the head, so I guess a record could be in my future (lol).

I wear my hair in dreadlocks, so … lemme stop you right there.  I despise the term “dreadlocks” because there is NOTHING dreadful about my hair.  Unless you want to die by my killer side-eye, don’t ever use “dreadlocks” around me.

I wear my hair in locs, so it’s okay for you to touch them.  Let me clear this up for you real quick.  DO NOT TOUCH MY HAIR!!!!  Nothing annoys me like someone who assumes it’s okay for them to put their hands on me or my hair.  First of all, don’t invade my personal space.  Secondly, it’s hair.  Get over it.  Thirdly, everybody’s hygiene ain’t the same, and I have no idea where your hands have been.  Please keep them out of my hair.  I don’t want your hair or spirit all over me.  I am not a pet, so don’t try to stroke my hair for your entertainment. 

I wear my hair in locs, so that means I will loc my kids’ hair, too.  No.  That’s incorrect.  I will never forget that when my now 13 year-old son was an infant, one of the ladies at his daycare asked me with her face all torn up and her nose stuck in the air, “You’re not going to put the baby’s hair in ‘those things’, are you?”  I remember my response being something along the lines of, “And if I did, what does it matter to you?  Do you have a problem with my hair?”  She apologized after picking her face off the floor.  But, as much as I love my hair, the decision to make the commitment to locs is a personal one.  If you see my kids with loc’d hair, it’s because they made the choice to do so themselves.  I’m not making that decision for them.

I often hear from folks that they are surprised at how versatile my hair is.  Chile, don’t hate me because my hair is beautiful (lol).  The styles I have had over the years with my locs are endless.  People are constantly amazed with them all.  Honestly, I’m amazed myself.  My hairstylist NEVER disappoints and keeps my locs looking their absolute best.

Two-strand twists in a bun with a wrapped loc bang.

My locs are wrapped around pipe cleaners.

Wrapped locs.

Loops and chains.

And really, folks.  After a photo that went viral recently on social media, we can no longer make ANY assumptions about people with locs.  Did you see this photo … of a Ku Klux Klan member at a rally … wearing his hair in locs?  A Klan member (ie. a racist, a white supremacist, a hater of all things Black) … with LOCS, y’all!!!  Da hell?!?!?

I am reminded of the lyrics to India.Arie’s hit and will close with them …

I am not my hair.
I am not this skin.
I am not your expectations.  No.
I am not my hair.
I am not this skin.
I am the soul that lives within.

Shout out to Glenda Jones of Sincerely Yours Salon in Durham, NC.  She keeps my hair looking FLY!!!

Just Keep Swinging

If you have been following my blog or know me personally, then you know my son Randal plays baseball.  He loves the game, and he’s pretty good at it, too.  The past few years, he’s played on his middle school team and on league teams in the spring, summer, and fall.  This summer, he’ll be playing on a travel team.  We’ve become quite the baseball family because it seems that is all we do from March to October. 

Randal during the school team's season

Last week, my son’s team played in and won their league’s tournament.  The championship game was intense.  After the first inning, we were up 1 to 0, and the score remained 1 to 0 until the last inning of the game.  Randal pitched the entire game.  Let me tell you … that last inning was nothing short of spectacular.

We were up first to bat.  We go through a few batters.  Right before Randal heads to the batter’s box, one of the boys on the team got a hit and brought in another player.  We’re up 2 to 0 now, but we have 2 outs.  The bases are loaded.

Here comes the first pitch.  Randal swings and misses.  STRIKE ONE.

Here comes the next pitch.  Randal swings, but it’s a foul ball.  STRIKE TWO.

Now as a parent, I’m in the stands, and I’m about to lose my freakin’ mind!!!!  2 outs?  2 strikes?  I’m thinking there’s no way in the world we can recover from this.  We’re about to go back to the dugout and hope to keep the other team from scoring so we can pull off this game.  (Don’t you just love my French?  We / oui … and I haven’t suited up to play a single inning.  Lol.) 

Here comes pitch number three.  Randal swings.  The ball flies out deep into right field. 

Grand slam!  Let me say that again in case you missed it.  GRAND FREAKIN’ SLAM!!!!  Four runs come in, and we go up 6 to 0.

Another batter from our team comes up.  He hits a grounder and gets out at first.  That’s the third out.

It’s the bottom of the last inning.  Randal goes to the mound to pitch.  Three players up.  Three players down.  Just like that.  One.  Two.  Three.  He strikes out all three players.  Game over.  We win.

WE WIN!!!!

I know this ain’t the MLB.  It’s a league ball game with 10 to 13 year old boys on the field.  But lemme tell you something.  I couldn’t have been any prouder of my son.  He was calm.  He was confident.  He was composed.  He was under a great deal of pressure, but he still accomplished what he and his team had been working hard for all season … to win a championship.

After the game when I had a chance to talk to Randal, I asked him how he managed to stay so calm and focused during the game.  To paraphrase, he simply stated he did what he had to do.  He told me that he heard all the trash talking the parents and fans of the other team yelled out to and at him during the game. 

“You got him now!  He can’t hit your pitch!” 

“The pitcher’s getting tired.  Hit a homer on him!”

“He’s got nothing on you!”

“Strike him out!”

“Shut him DOWN!!!”

… and there were a few other things he told me he heard during the game that I won’t mention.  (On another note, the good Lord knew exactly what He was doing to shield me from those people and the comments being made.  This Mama right here would have had a few things to say to those folks.  And how are you gonna come to a game and trash talk about 10 to 13 year old kids?!?!?  I mean … really?!?!?)

Randal said he took all of that good and bad energy (his desire to win and the comments of the naysayers) and used it to get him through the game.  That energy became his motivation.  He never said a word.  He never talked back to the other team or their fans.  He just got the job done and flashed them all big smiles as he walked off the field after every third out.

After talking to him, why did my heart almost burst with even more pride?  My son, in only a way that he could do, had just become my teacher / motivator.  There was a lesson in that game.

How many times in life have we felt discouraged or like we were trying to accomplish the impossible?  How many times have we felt like we had 2 outs, were in the batter’s box with 2 strikes against us, and the game was on the line?  Do we give up?  Do we become afraid and think there’s no way possible we can do what we have planned or desired to do?  Do we internalize the words of the people we hear screaming for our demise in the background?

Or do we just keep swinging? 

It ain’t over ‘til it’s over, so just keep swinging.  Grand slam.  Game over.  Victory.

As a mom, it is my absolute duty to use the example of this game for the rest of Randal’s life (lol) to remind him of the lesson he taught me on that championship game day.  Stay calm, stay focused, find your motivation, and just keep swinging. 

Thanks, son.  You always make me proud.

Video of the championship game grand slam.  Please excuse the

quality of the video.  I got so excited and started to cheer.  I forgot

I was still recording (lol).