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Showing posts from May, 2010

Hitting the Reset Button

Memorial Day is a wonderful time to take stock -- of the lives lost in defense of our nation, of what we have, of what we've accomplished thus far this year. It's also a good time to hit the reset button of our lives.

I know that I, like many women, slide into schlumpadinka-ville during the winter months. I dress for warmth, not for style. I don't pay attention to my hair. I eat comfort food, not healthy food. Nail techs would run from me in horror if they saw my feet. Exercise regimen? As if.

But all that self-denial in pursuit of warmth and comfort takes its toll. Most of the cute summer clothes are not in my size. I'm out of breath just taking the stairs. My hair looks like a cross between Sasquatch and a drunken Diana Ross. And nail techs would still run from my feet.

So it's time to hit the reset button.

Sure, I've got a lot going on -- I'm getting involved in local politics (as an activist), BMNB and I are still in adoption mode, and our house l…

Fill, Baby, Fill!

BP, you done gone and made BMNB mad. And that ain’t easy.

You see, BMNB was born in Mobile, which, if you haven’t noticed, sits on the Gulf of Mexico. And while he’s spent most of his childhood and adulthood in California, Mobile and the Gulf Coast are and always will be home to him. Both Dauphin Island and Daphne were on our short list for places to retire.

But, BP, you done gone and f*&^%# it up. And now BMNB is mad.

Mad because he doesn’t eat seafood from anywhere else BUT the Gulf. I’m serious. We went to dinner in Florida as part of a job interview for me, and he barely spoke to anyone at the dinner table because he was face-down in Gulf seafood. His mother used to have Gulf fish Fedexed to California on dry ice. We attended an event in Denver where a woman from Mississippi had flown in fresh catfish from the Gulf area, and BMNB parked himself by her vat of hot peanut oil, waiting for each piece of gulf catfish to come out, perfectly seasoned and cooked. Why? Because s…

There Will Be Threats

Yesterday I celebrated by seventh wedding anniversary. I was trying to think of what I’d learned in the year since my last anniversary, and it's this: There will be threats.

I’d always thought that the threats to my marriage would come from within: Infidelity, boredom, incompatibility, an attraction to Halle Berry (not mine), you name it. I never took seriously that there would be threats from outside of our marriage. Why would anybody want to wreck someone else’s marriage or wreak havoc within it?

Because they can. Or they think they can.

BMNB and I endured such a threat to the peace in our marriage since our last anniversary. Someone we’d invited into our home used our conversations and confidences and passed them along to someone else so that someone else could in turn manipulate us.

I felt used and betrayed. But a bought lesson is a learned lesson.

The sad thing is that now BMNB and I aren’t as open about having people, family or otherwise, in our lives and in our home. BMNB isn’t …

Little Girls: Put A Leotard On It

I've been following the dust-up in the news about the 7 year-olds dancing to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" during a dance competition clothed in, well, "costumes," to put it politely. First, everyone was disgusted at the inappropriate clothing and too-adult dance moves. Then, the dance moms fired back and, with an assist from Whoopi Goldberg on "The View," took viewers to task to question themselves if they saw something that was inappropriate -- this was a dance competition, after all, so if they read more into it, well, shame on them.

Hmmm. So, in the interest of trying to inform myself, I viewed the video on YouTube as well as Beyonce's video for "Single Ladies." I think the little girls' dance moves were better than Beyonce's -- I don't think Beyonce can do a pirouette. But I don't think this was age-appropriate dancing for girls their age.

Therein lies the problem. Little girls shouldn't be dancing like grown women…

Free To Be Herself: Rest in Peace, Soror Horne

"I am a black woman. I’m free. I no longer have to be a ‘credit.’ I don’t have to be a symbol to anybody; I don’t have to be a first to anybody. I don’t have to be an imitation of a white woman that Hollywood sort of hoped I’d become. I’m me, and I’m like nobody else."

- Lena Horne at age 80

I was so sorry to hear of Lena Horne's passing this morning. But I had to smile, too, when I thought of her life and all that she'd accomplished. Despite all the obstacles and sleights, the degradations and denigrations, she still came out on top, with her dignity and pride intact.

Oh, what an example she was for all of us black women! We are all as free as we choose to be. Like Ms. Horne, we are each unique and there's not another one like each of us.

I remember in college one of my friends used to play Ms. Horne's version of "Be A Lion" from the Broadway musical"The Wiz" before she'd take her finals. She said it, and Ms. Horne, inspired her to g…

A Pretty Damn Good Life

Last weekend, I started my Saturday in my garden with my great-nephew M. He stayed over the night before – I was at a campaign meeting and didn’t get home until 11:00 pm, so we didn’t see much of each other – but we started the morning together in my garden, with him clipping the flowers off of my collards and mustard greens (they’re bolting, but hey, they’re still good, fresh food) and me watering the seeds I’ve started for my summer vegetable garden. I pulled a carrot out of the ground, washed it, and we both ate it, remarking at how sweet it was and so unlike the slightly bitter carrots we get in the store.

After going out to breakfast with M and BMNB, we all went to “Clayfest” in Lincoln, which included “Camp Clay,” a free event where kids could get as much wet clay as they wanted to do with it as they pleased. As I was sitting at a table that sunny Saturday listening to M and BMNB playfully argue over what M should do with the clay, (I finally told BMNB, “Get your own clay!”), I t…