The Magic of Disney

This is my absolute favorite picture from our trip to Disney over the break. Layla really didn’t appreciate her dad asking her to stop and pose for pictures at every ride and attraction. Here we are boarding Aladdin’s flying carpets. Lesroy told her to turn around for a shot and this is what he got.

“I don’t want to take pictures!”

Billie Jean

Tomorrow is Octoberfest at my daughter's daycare, that's their PC way to acknowledge Halloween. This year, the kids were asked to dress up like Michael Jackson. Mini-me's class was assigned "Billie Jean" I was first disappointed because I remembered the outfit in that video was a bit plain. Why didn't they get "Beat it"? But then again, it would be nearly impossible to find a red leather jacket for a little person...or was the red leather in Thriller? It doesn't matter. Here's my life-size doll in the outfit I put together from boys clothing found at the local thrift store. the bow tie is actually a hair bow. Happy Friday!

Tortoise Soup

 

We all know the story of the tortoise and the hare. The former steadily and slowly moves toward the finish line, the latter swiftly assumes he'll be victorious. I just realized I am the tortoise.

Surely, I behaved much like the hare, thinking I would win, knowing I was well suited for the race. I had established talents, skills, but no focus, or direction. This left me scrambling - aimlessly flailing my arms and legs, watching the competition cruise on by toward "success"

Then, somewhat like the hare, I just took myself out of the race, but not because I knew I could catch up, I stopped trying because I'd given up, confused about why my talents weren't propelling me to victory.

I stopped running, and sat down to take stock of my reality. I got comfortable in the shade and then something miraculous happened. I became more comfortable with myself. I began to explore and enjoy my gifts and passions.

I started to understand there is no competition, we're all running individual races and the finish line is ever changing. I will cross many goal lines in my lifetime: graduation, wedding, childbirth, finding a job, quitting a job, discovering my passion, staying married, raising the child, turning my passion into a career.

And that's where I am, being a tortoise and slowly, but surely approaching another goal. Slow and steady.

Sweet Sweet Savannah

I have to admit that I've been running myself ragged lately. Ragged!

As if working full time and taking care of my family and household weren't enough, I've gone and started volunteering at a local cooking school. I'm also cooking for almost every event I get invited to. It's practice.

Then last week I had a much needed hiatus from the madness. Thankfully Savannah aka SLOW vannah is just a few hours away and I had an excursion planned to see a concert. It was extremely soothing.

Sitting under the oaks eating ice cream, browsing boutiques, sleeping until my eyes opened. I must do it again real soon.

This woman's work is DONE

Like the drunk monkey said to Dr. Doolittle, "I give it up!"
The monkey had a drinking problem and as he said those words he tossed his miniature flask to the ground.

I've tossed my shovel to the ground. I too, "give it up!"

In the month of March I set out to create this backyard oasis. I was determined to excavate the land, level out the hole with sand and lay pavers creating a beautiful patio. I wanted a platform for my outdoor seating area. Well, I spent weeks clearing the land. It's about 25' in diameter.

And then, well, um, see, the project kinda, sorta, maybe got out of hand. I probably do not have enough upper body strength to actually lay the heavy pavers that my heart desires to see in the space. Nope, I mean I can lift them and tote them with trembling arm muscles from point A to point B. But when you talk about placing them down in level and perfectly symmetric lines with some degree of precision, that's another story. In fact, that story will never be told.

So now that it's July and months have passed and I've taken countless trips to Lowe's and spring has expired and summer is quickly following, it dawned on me that I just don't even want to do it anymore. Grass has started to grow in the hole and my compact car has taken enough abuse from hauling sand bags and cement pavers. It's time to get some professionals (or at the very least some day laborers) to tackle this job.

I've had my fun, and pushed myself as far as I'm willing to go. My husband was right about this all along and I'm woman enough to admit it. He's been standing by waiting to get some professionals involved. I'd like to take this time now to thank him for exercising a moderate degree of patience while letting me figure out he was right.

I'd like to thank my miniature sidekick for volunteering at all times to help me dig in the dirt with her plastic shovel. I'm sending a special thank you to all the friends who edged me on with supporting words and offers to come by and pitch in. A very special thank you goes out to the one who sat in the dirt hole with me and drank wine as we imagined ourselves sitting on a completed patio. But to those so-called friends who laughed and called my yard a "mess," I say SO WHAT!!? You scoffers probably will NOT be invited to the grand opening. Even though you too were right.

Mission Return-everything-to-Lowe's is well underway and will be completed by week's end.

Brown bear, brown bear

My baby read a book to me today. She's in Florida with my mom for the rest of the month and although I feel her absence, I'm still able to enjoy the sudden abundance of free time. I get to mosey home after work, no more mad dash to her day care. I'm decorating, meeting friends for dinner, sleeping in on the weekend. There are no little messes to clean up, no crumbs scattered around the house or sticky finger prints on the furniture. There are definitely perks, but there is also a dull pain.

It's muted most of the time, but when I hear that squeaky voice over the phone chanting "Maaaameee! Maaaamee!," a little bit of sadness sets in, because from hundreds of miles away I don't get the hug and kiss that usually accompanies that greeting. And through the clear reception Metro PCS provides I know I hear a longing in her voice as well. And I know I have another week and a half to go.

Then her innate ability to make me feel better kicked in:
"Maamee, I know howta read a book!"
"Really?!"
"Yeah, is call Brown Bear"
Grandma prompts her to get the book out and read it to me, then with such confidence and clarity she begins to read the story aloud. I imagined her running her tiny fingers along the words then excitedly turning each page. My mouth falls open, the pride wells up in my eyes.

Brown bear, brown bear what do you see? I see a red bird looking at me
Red bird, red bird what do you see?....

She finishes the book and before I can get too emotional, she's off growling in the background. My sister has come into the room and apparently they're pretending to be wild animals or something entirely too fun to interrupt. At my mother's goading she shouts "Good night Maamee...arrgggh...." Giggles ensue.

It's clear she's completely content, which clears my melancholy and I say good night to my very own little brown bear.

No thank you, Culinary School of Cobb Webs

In my quest to become America's Next Top Best Chef I've been exploring some institutes of culinary education. I figured cooking schools were the most logical place for me to start my quest for knowledge about cuisine so I found myself online requesting information, registering for weekend workshops and taking tours.

The last tour of a rather well renown establishment just left me feeling raw. In fact, when the admissions agent called me this week to inquire about why I hadn't returned to complete the enrollment process I had to dig real deep not to scream and hang up.

As it is, I'd tried to block this particular evening I spent at the Culinary School of Cobb Webs out of my mind, but her call just rehashed the incident so I may as well share:

I arrived on time for a 5 o'clock appointment and find myself waiting in a muggy lobby for about 20 minutes. It felt like the air condition was set on Auto Steam. So it smelled more like a locker room than a cooking school, but I thought, well, this is the lobby. I'm sure it's pristine beyond those double doors. The kitchens MUST be spotless.

As I waited, I noticed some ornate sugar sculptures on display in glass cases, beautiful, really, except for the fine coating of dust that lined the cases and sculptures. I think: "Self, this is just their lobby"

Suddenly the young lady who called me to set up this appointment comes out to greet me, she's wearing a low cut dress with a hem line well above her knees. I could tell right away she was an avid smoker. I hate the smell of cigarette smoke.

She ushers me beyond a pair of glass doors, down a hall and into a room, then she immediately excuses herself to get soda. I'm casing the room and I see cobb webs lining the floor-to-ceiling window frame. In fact, underneath the tables is a thick layer of dust.

Then she returned with a bevy of questions and showed me a Power Point presentation. As she's forwarding the slide show, I realize - I'm HOT. I'm sweating enough to make my shirt start clinging to my arm pits and back.

I'm disgusted.

She takes me through the halls and stops at each classroom to explain in great detail the curriculum. I'm distracted. I see dust, old food that she refers to as student "projects" left out and it smells like my daughters preschool after the kids have just come in from running around outside.

I
AM
READY
To
GO!!

Eventually I got out of there. I won't ever go back.

Joy in the Morning

My daily routine has been upturned, altered, disrupted. For the last three years, it's primarily been my husband's responsibility to get our daughter off to day care in the morning. I picked her up in the afternoon. That's the way we rolled, unless Daddy was out of town, but recently Daddy's erratic work schedule has Mommy (a.k.a. me) pulling both shifts.

It's been a hard adjustment. I'm used to getting up and getting myself ready in utter silence, then pulling out of the garage with just enough minutes left to make it to work on time. But suddenly I have the pleasure of tantrums and mood swings in the morning. All from a pint-sized assailant. She's not used to getting up as early as I do so she's rather delirious and unreasonable when I turn on the lights and crank up Arthur on PBS.

She doesn't want to wake up or get dressed. She's never quite satisfied with the ensemble I've selected and very vocal about the matter. After a few weeks of foolishness I pushed her bedtime up, thinking if she was more rested, she'd be calmer. Although she woke up more easily, the wardrobe was still a problem. I'd find the outfits I selected tossed aside and her digging through her drawers for something else. So I just stopped trying to pick out her clothes for her. At first, I'll admit, I fought it with statements like:

"No, you can't wear that shirt, I already put this shirt out for you."

"Baby, those shoes are not appropriate for April, you can only wear boots in the winter, it's too hot for those now."

And I'd win the little battle and lose the war as she squirmed, mumbled, grimaced and dragged her mommy-coordinated self sluggishly all the way downstairs, into the car and to the day care.

Then, one morning, I just gave in. I let my 3-year-old wear skinny jeans, furry snow boots and a light weight yellow blouse, accented with a faux fur-collared sweater.

The minute I said, "Fine what shoes do YOU want to wear?" Her face lit up and she picked out the boots and matching furry sweater. Who cares that it was 70 degrees that day? She beamed all the way to school. It was a victory.

Since then she's been making her own wardrobe choices and it's really very entertaining. Most days she wears lace church socks and her hair bows are misaligned, but she's happy and I'm amused. Which means we both get a little joy in the morning.

Pretty Wings...

I'm a little obsessed, excited and impatient right now. Maxwell's new single is making me crazy. This song has cast a spell on me and it won't be broken until his album Black Summer's Night is released on July 7.

Now we're cooking

Okay, so I know this seems sudden, but I catered my first event yesterday. In fact, I'm so excited about it I can hardly sleep. It's actually just a few minutes after midnight.

Anywho, I learned during this event that I could really get used to this. I'll fess up that it wasn't a paying gig and the client is my mother-in-law, but her bookclub - a complete group of strangers - ate everything. They each deliberately consumed every morsel on their plates. A few even went back for seconds. That felt good. These weren't friends or family members, these were some women I'd never seen in my life, but they earnestly enjoyed the meal.

What's more important is that I enjoyed doing it. This could be the start of something good.

Wakeup Call

Something happened to me the other weekend. I took a 3-day culinary basics workshop that has ignited change. For months, I've been day dreaming about cooking on a professional level. I do enough of it in my personal life to know I like it and that others like it too. I blog about it, read about it and watch shows about it. Cooking has become my thing. Or maybe it's been my thing all along but I was too distracted by life to realize it until now.

Cooking had become so much a part of the routine that I wasn't even conscious of the joy, the peace, the excitement it brought me anymore. As soon as I became a mother, everything in my life seemed to run on autopilot. I just continued running through the steps: wake up, get ready for work, shuffle papers, head home, retrieve child, cook dinner, bath time, bed time and REPEAT. Everything was so routine, mundane and conventional, with the exception of what I was creating in the kitchen. During the summer of 2008, I became acutely aware of that fullness I was finding each night toiling over my Kenmore. It would return whenever I entertained at parties or took a dish to work.

That's when I began looking for outlets. I toured a culinary school and was consumed with longing. But alas, culinary school costs a small fortune and maybe this is just phase, right? I'd better sleep on it. I did and after standing under the tutelage of trained chefs for 3 days I'm awake!

Phase I of Backyard Oasis is Complete

I finished excavating the land that will soon hold my stone patio. I'll be heading to Lowe's within the next week to collect the necessary pavers and stuff. I'm so proud and relieved. It was some authentic hard labor that took me through a wide range of emotions.

There were good times, like when I found a wheelbarrow for 20 bucks, and when my daughter told me how happy she was making mud brownies.

Then there were the bad times when my hand was so sore from gripping that shovel it hurt to use my mouse, hold my cell phone or use them at all really. I had to put myself on a Motrin drip to keep a steady flow of ibuprofen in my blood stream.

And I'd be remissed if I didn't mention the rain! Who could forget the rain? It came down for 3 days straight, took a day off and came down for 2 more days. But I can't complain. It gave me a valid excuse to rest my weary body and ultimately softened the ground, which made today's digging almost effortless.

And for all that I dedicate this song to my project!

That's what friends are for

I woke up with such joy in my spirit today and on my drive in to work I felt overcome with appreciation. Tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be a year older and with each day I feel more content with my life as it is, not the way it could be, should be or would have been, if only...

I celebrated the upcoming life anniversary with my closest friends on Saturday. I hosted a brunch and spoiled them with my signature Shrimp & Grits, some biscuits slathered in homemade cinnamon butter and strawberry mimosas. It was cold and dreary outside, but inside we were warmed by each others' company.

Toward the end of the afternoon when just three friends remained I started to open the gift bags that had collected in the dining room. I genuinely have parties just for the company. The camaraderie and quality time with my loved ones is enough for me. So the presents are just indulgent! But my friends picked perfect gifts. Things that were simple, inexpensive and extremely ME. I thought to myself: "They know me so well!" But that happens when you value the quality of your friendships more than the quantity.

Operation Backyard Oasis is a go

When we were house hunting, I insisted we buy a house with a yard, preferably a deck. What I got was a huge yard with a privacy fence around it, no extras. I like to entertain and I think it's just cool to eat, sit, drink and BE outside. However, when there is nothing but grass outside, the BEING becomes less appealing. As a result, we've been living in a house with a massive yard for 4 years now and I'm almost ashamed to say, we just don't make any use of it.

Our yard gets the most attention from our lawn guy/landscaper/handiman who cuts it every other week or so during the growing seasons. But all of that changes this spring. Today concludes Day 2 of my agricultural efforts. And now that I'm out there I can't figure out for the life of me what kept me from doing this sooner. Maybe it was a lack of funding, the distraction of parenting, newlywed excitement or a more interior focus. Whatever it was, I'm glad I snapped out of it and just delighted to be creating the outdoor living space I've always imagined. The goal is something like this:


Here is a recap of what's happened thus far.

Day 1
After work, I picked up a shovel and rake from a local general store, and a toy pair for my 3-year-old. Then we (and by that I mean "I") spent 2 hours raking, clearing and bagging the fallen twigs, branches and leaves. We learned that dirt don't hurt and I realized a child won't be afraid of the rustling in the trees and bushes if you just let her explore them freely. In fact, she may even say "Mommy, you make me so happy," just because you let her ruin her school clothes, and "bake" mud brownies.

Day 2
We (again that means me) started excavating a space for the pavers I'm going to put down as a giant lightbulb-shaped sitting area/patio. We discovered Home Depot thinks a wheelbarrow is worth at least $50, but a potted fruit tree can be acquired for a mere $9.99

*I've decided to document this entire process with daily entries, starting below.

Day 3 (5h)
We headed straight to Maxway when we woke up. I found a wheelbarrow for $20, managed to wedge it into the back seat next to my partner and her car seat. Then back at home I was on fire, hauling dirt, raking more leaves and after 6 hours of labor intensive I took 3 Motrin, soaked in a warm bath and had a wonderful restful sleep

Day 4 (6h)
Started early again, right after breakfast. I skipped church and a visit at my in-laws' I learned the night before that rain is coming this week so I have to keep going while my momentum is strong! More than half of the hole is complete.

Day 5 (2h)
I didn't realize how tired I was until I felt myself dozing off at work. All this labor is exhausting. My hands are sore and the back of my thighs ache. I'm almost there, no turning back now. And rain is coming so I'm in a rush to beat the forecasted storm that's scheduled to hit the day after tomorrow.

Day 6 (3h)
The hole is finished! What's G?
G is committing to back aching labor even after the sun sets because you can't stand the thought of one more day of digging.(Can you tell I've been drinking lots of Gatorade throughout this process) I hollowed out the final portion of my patio foundation, headed to Kroger sweaty and smelly with red dirt smeared all over my clothes and bought some Epson Salt and a couple bottles of Arbor Mist. Came home and did some Pilates stretching, then I soaked in the tub and sipped on the AM.

Day 7 (2h)
I realize my hole is actually probably much deeper than I needed it to be. Some portions are actually 6 inches deep and I think 3 will suffice. I realized this half way through digging this 25' x25' hole so I had to put some dirt back into the section I decided to start with. Then I went to Lowe's to pick up some of the pieces I needed. My ego was boosted when the male sales associates seemed fascinated by the fact I could lift 20" x 20" pavers on my own. They decided to help me (and slow me down by getting the crane lift out and driving the pallet to my car) but we managed to get 12 of the large stones inside my hatchback. When I reached home and my husband helped me unload those. I began placing them in the ground and managed to get one row complete. This is going to take some time, but I'm committed.

Day 8 (1h)
This massive project is creeping into my dreams now. I had a nightmare of sorts where some "professional" assured me that my work was in vain and that it wouldn't turn out right. How horrible. I started to doubt my layout and the pavers I selected. I took some time to just sketch and rethink and decided to forge ahead. I laid down another row of pavers last night and will pick up more supplies today.
Go me!

Facing it

I've gone and done it. I joined Facebook. Around the time my daughter was born in 2005, I became mildly aware of these internet networking sites: MySpace, LinkedIn, Facebook, etc, but I was too tired or too busy to care.

I figured there wouldn't be anyone out there looking for me and I'm not looking for anybody in particular, so I just let the phenom pass me by.

My only exposure came from my teenage sisters or some random and atrocious media coverage, like the mom who drove her daughter's enemy to suicide by posting a bogus and malicious MySpace in the victim's name or the shoot out that resulted when some undesirables crashed a party they learned about on Facebook. Why on earth would I want to mingle with boy-crazed teenagers or expose myself to a bullet brigade? I was content to stay LinkedOUT.

The World Wide Web can be a dangerous place so I've remained cautious with my involvement. It took me 2 years to even commit to blogging. But anyway, one of my un-book club members started her "Force Chaundra to Join Facebook" campaign around Christmas and it was clear to me that it wouldn't cease until I was sworn in as the newest member of the Facebook community.

It's been four days and I have 38 friends, I've seen people I loathed and others I loved, some I figured were lost forever and a few I couldn't lose if I tried.

I've been reminded of how awkward I felt through out high school and how much assurance I gained in college. But ultimately, I've just been facing the fact that you can't go back. I'm reminded to just continue making the most of the here, now and later.

Turning over a new leaf

It's a tea leaf to be exact. Those who know me well, are also aware that I've been suffering from an addiction as of late. It started after the birth of my daughter three years ago. I began to drink coffee almost daily, the long nights and increased work load had me drained and caffeine became my supplement.

But the habit was moderate and under control. I'd drink a cup a day on weekdays in the office. Then, well, I just got carried away. I was at Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, even the gas station cappucino machines whenever the whim hit me to drink. If I missed my daily dose, massive headaches would set in. So I started sipping on the weekends. Then I started to drink multiple cups each day and into the night and that's when the heart palpitations kicked in.

Yep, my heart was fluttering like a fish. I took myself to the nearest doctor for a full check up. I had heart monitors, blood work, etc. And everything came back normal. In fact, the doctor said the results proved I was exceptionally healthy. My cholesterol was story book, my heart was strong and had the rhythmic patterns of an "athlete" she said. (I'll take that!)

And her only diagnosis was to lay off the caffeine. Really?

Really.

I took a week off, then gradually and carefully began to drink just 1 cup per day. But the hiatus helped me realize I don't need it anymore and I felt fine without it. The withdrawal symtoms (i.e. headaches) were brief and I was completely detoxed.
So drinking it again felt a little foolish, my breath felt bitter, it's hard on my teeth and it leaves a bad after taste.

I bought some flavored tea and I must admit I feel cleaner. My mouth isn't pungent and it goes down a lot smoother and there's really no need to add any sugar. It's delightful.

It's beginning to look a lot like...spring time?

This is my view of the snow falling into my backyard on Sunday. I'm really ready for spring and yellows and pollen and heat; however, I couldn't help beholding the beauty of this snow. It fell so peacefully and covered everything in blanket of white. And although it was freezing, everything looked brighter and more pristine. So I'm just reminded that God is in control and I should just slow down and enjoy the view.

Spring Fever!

I'm Vitamin D deficient.
A good dose of sunshine will cure me. The only problem is, it's been a little too cold to dwell outdoors for extended periods of time. For instance, it is currently 49 degrees in Atlanta. And that's high in comparison to what we've been dealing with.

Now I must give credit where it's due. We were spared the frigid air for a few days earlier this month. Yep. It was a refreshing 67. But that didn't last long enough. In fact, it ended abruptly when some 20 degree weather came to town. Then last week some tornados were lurking around.

Enough already!

I am just ready for some bright colors, exposed shoulders, toes and collar bones. It's time to push the turtlenecks and cable knits back into the back of the closet and bid adieu to my boots for now.

I'm ready to get out and play in my massive backyard. I'm gonna buy myself a cute gardening hat and some gloves, clear out some space for patio furniture and a play area for the little one.

And since the sweaters will be in hibernation soon, I need to crank up the cardio. I won't be able to camouflage my wintery girth or layer with tights (that have mercifully been serving in a dual role as shapewear).

But I'm willing to do the work. I'm ready for flirty skirts and sandals and maybe, just maybe, if I focus on exercising the sun will be here before I notice.

Blue Mood

At least once a month, for reasons beyond, my control I experience a dramatic shift in my mood. My hormones regularly throw me into familiar and unwelcome states of being: insecurity, doubt, melancholy, woe, apprehension.

I'm plagued by the most unreasonable and unsubstantiated thoughts. I'm fat, I'm ugly, I'll never amount to anything, I'm such a loser. I suck at parenting. My friends don't really like me. Does my husband even love me? My parents must be so disappointed.

No need to plan an intervention! Thankfully, I'm aware of the cause and I know when these feelings begin to sprout that they're just feelings. None of it is true.That being said, it's still hard to ignore the feelings. Some days, like today, I am in such a funk I want to just sit in the dark or take an 18-hour nap. But, I can't. I have to work, coexist.

So this means I need to kick off a session of self motivation. Listening to will.i.am's "Brand New Day" on repeat, drinking Starbucks, a shopping spree in the Target $1 spot, purging into a blog post....all help usher me through the fog.

And I'm not done yet. After work today I'm going to the gym to sweat it out to my workout jams playlist, then I'll go home and soak in a luxurious bath and punctuate the evening with a fresh coat of red toe nail polish.

Tomorrow is a new day.

I Pledge

What do you pledge? Come on, there must be something. I love this idea/campaign to really get people involved in service and making a change. Obama cannot do it alone.

I'm going to start with reusable grocery bags, then I just might pick a project from this site www.usaservice.org

I hope you're inspired too. Spread the word!

It's a New Day!

I love this song. It's such a happy tune. It's my current personal anthem.(I'm feeling the political statements too)

It's a new day, It's a new daaaaaaayy....I woke up this morning, feeling alright...feeling brand new...

The chorus reminds me that each morning is a fresh start, a blessing and a gift. Since God was courteous enough to see me into it, I'm going to just try living it to the fullest.

Even if I don't complete my to-do list, or finish a novel, cook a gourmet dinner or put all the laundry away. It's okay. From now on, I'm striving to really feel pleased about the items I could check off of my list, instead of agonizing about the ones that remain.

If we eat Stouffers tonight, then maybe I'll be more rested and energized to try something exciting and different tomorrow. Because after all, tomorrow will be a new day.

Pace yourself. I don't know CPR!

Today, I resumed my A.M. workouts. I took a holiday hiatus from the routine. And as a result found it impossible to get up the last two days.

But today was different. I had to get back into the gym. Apparently, a wide assortment of New Year's Resolution makers felt the same way. It was overrun with new faces.

Usually, at 6:45 a.m. the athletic center is pretty vacant. There's me and the guy in the white sleeveless shirt. He runs on his treadmill for 5 minutes at a time, then disappears to do some strength training, I suppose. Then, he's back on the treadmill pounding it out.

Then, there's the Pool Pair. The man does laps and the lady, well, she sort of wades around then hits the sauna. And on the upper level there may be 3 more ladies on ellipticals. On Wednesdays and Fridays, there's spin class with no more than 5 of us participating.

The regular morning crowd is pretty cheery too and we typically greet one another with a "Good Morning!" and part with a "Have a good Day!"

That's how it used to be anyway, before New Years Day.

Today, I saw newbies in mass. On the treadmill, one man, I'll call him New Guy in the Glasses, spent more time off the treadmill stretching than on it. At one point he was squating with his head down between his knees. Baby steps, Mister, baby steps. I'm just glad he didn't pass out on my watch.

In the ladies' locker room New Extremely Naked Lady had her things all over the place. She left her outfit laid out across an entire bench, then went to take a shower. Very inconsiderate. It was crowded. Doesn't she know benches are critical preparation spaces meant for sharing?

I hope these new people get it together soon.

Back to Reality

I had a fabulous Christmas vacation. There were parties, house guests, good food and relaxation. It all ended abruptly Monday morning when my alarm sounded at 5:30 a.m. EST. What an invasion of my restful state! So I'm back in the office now and shuffling papers once again.

Hey, somebody has to do it.

Welcome to Wal-mart!! (and more winter wandering)

Christmas is about Jesus, the baby Jesus' birth to be exact. So why does everyone get into a tizzy shopping for gifts? Why did my daughter's day care teacher confront me about the lack of gifts given unto her by the parents?

I am not a gift giver. My gift to that day care is faithfully paying "tuition" once a week. Besides, I don't generally make a list of Christmas gifts to distribute to people I believe to have been good all year. I try to show appreciation throughout the year in small ways. And this is not the economy to drop blatant hints about gifts. Although she has since made another shameless plea.

It's all just too much. I'm not Scrooge and this isn't a bah humbug to you who enjoy the mayhem or those who plan ahead and make it through the season stress free. But, I just experienced a hellacious holiday shopping spree this weekend that reminded me of how pointless it all is.

I don't know what manner of fever possessed me to enter Wal-mart at high noon on the Saturday before Christmas, but I did. And I wasn't particularly searching for gifts. I was just perusing with my toddler, on a quest to find party favors for her upcoming birthday tea party. So we painstakingly narrowed down choices, then we browsed the toy aisles, the craft aisle...all the while she's chanting "I wan dowa, I wan dowa" [translation:"I want Dora"]

I'm taking deep cleansing breaths as I fight through the traffic jams on every row, barely able to view the merchandise over the back of someone's head. It was chaotic and uncomfortable to say the least.

Then the child's chant changed to "I got pee, I got peee, I got peeeeeee." Since she's a novice potty user, this chant always gets a prompt response. So we abruptly park our cart, that contained some carefully selected goods, and head into the restroom.

No more than 5 minutes later, I emerge to find the cart is missing. It is no where to be found. I confront a sales associate who assures me they are not collecting carts or moving them to the Go Backs area, then she asks me:
"Was it empty?"
No!

If it were empty I wouldn't give a (fill in the blank), but I just spent an hour navigating through this outer rim of hell with a 2-year-old in tow just to have my efforts swiped. Discouraged, we walked hand in hand through the store looking for our cart.
Had I seen it, I fully intended to grab the handle, throw my kid inside and roll away. (even if this meant elbowing some unsuspecting shopper out of my way) I suppose it's best I didn't find it.

We left the Wal-mart empty handed, feeling drained and defeated.
I suppose someone mistakenly pushed the cart away, adding his or her own personal selections atop my own. Maybe he or she didn't even realize it until he or she reached the register. I hope this unattentive person paid for some of that junk that was riding around in my cart to appease the toddler. The thought makes me feel some what vindicated.

Winter Wandering

The tree was released by a Husky bolt cutter courtesy of Home Depot. Yes I did it, and they helped. Especially, when they accepted the return the following day. I consider it a bolt cutter loan, that I paid back in full.

So my house began to look a lot like Christmas about a week ago on Sunday, Dec. 14. I calculated we could enjoy the tree at least 10 full days before the official holiday. That means it was worth the effort. But there was still something missing.

Looking at my tree didn't bring me tidings of comfort and joy. The white lights on a white cord were glaring and awkward. Why hadn't I noticed it before? I went to Walmart to get white lights on a green cord. That helped. Then, I realized I don't like half of my silver and gold ornaments anymore. Only half of them were worthy of the tree so I decorated just one side of the tree. I'll wait till the after-Christmas sales to get new and improved ornaments from the pricey places like Pier 1.

The tree pictured here is similar to mine. I'll take a picture later and update it.

Free the Tree

Christmas time is near.
I love this time of year!
..The nip in the air, the comforting foods, the glow of the tree. But wait! My tree isn't up yet! Traditionally, I prop this dominating figure up the day after Thanksgiving so that we can bask in its glory for at least a month.

But this year, the ritual has been delayed. First, by the fact that I was not geographically present. I was hundreds of miles away from home working on my mother's tree. And it is a fragrant fir - beautifully adorned with blue and silver ornaments.

My artificial, reusable tree; however, is in captivity at the moment. It's trapped in our shed. Much to my dismay, when I went out to recover it, I discovered that someone had closed the combination lock, which we deliberately leave open. The problem is, we don't know the combination. It was written on a piece of paper that is MIA. (This is why people do things like writing their PIN numbers on the back of their ATM cards)

I thought about just buying a real tree for this year, but when I got out there and saw the prices I kept thinking I already have a tree. I am NOT going to pay them $40.

So I've decided that today is the day. I'm on the web studying instructional videos about lock cracking. If I can't get it out, there may be a Charlie Brown tree at my house this year.

Pound Cake Withdrawal

I could sure go for a piece of pound cake right now. And not just any pound cake, my mother's homemade Sour Cream Pound Cake. Her mother taught her to make it and she passed the recipe down to me. In fact, during my primitive years I was the designated cake maker. You see we'd get requests, or orders, from family members for cakes. Not slices, mind you, but entire cakes. We'd make one for Granddaddy, one for Deb, Carrie, Mr. Steve, Auntie and so on. I'd spend hours mixing the batter for each one. I'd beat the wet ingredients first: butter, eggs, sour cream, vanilla. Then, I'd add the dry ones: flour, sugar. Me and the mixer would whip it good until the formula was just right. Ma would flour the pan and prep the other side dishes i.e. dressing, ham, collards.

Anyway, there is a reason people want an entire cake to themselves. It's irresistible - light, fluffy, moist and creamy all at the same time. I arrived in S. Florida on Wednesday night (Thanksgiving Eve) and started eating slices of that cake approximately every 4 to 6 hours, sometimes less. You'd think I was suffering from some ailment and was prescribed Sour Cream Pound cake as a remedy. That's just how diligent I was about eating it up until my departure Monday night.

I know it was wrong, I even know just how much sugar, butter and sour cream goes into each one, but it didn't matter. Who cares that I'd been torturing myself with sunrise workouts for the last month. It was all worth it. That cake is nostalgia in my mouth and satisfaction for my soul.

I can't remember when I'd had it last. I haven't been home for Thanksgiving since my first year of college. And a LOT has changed. My elementary school has been razed and replaced with a new massively modern structure. The mail carrier in the all black neighborhood where I was raised is Latino (and the neighborhood is following suit), the movie theatre has been replaced by a gigantic Kohl's department store, my baby cousins have babies now, Grandadddy, Auntie and numerous others are no longer here to celebrate Thanksgiving with us anymore or to place cake orders.

Even I've changed. I'm no longer a pensive coed, I'm a wife and mother now.
But the cake remains the same. Maybe that's why it was so good.

Me-cation

I am in the midst of my inaugural "me-cation". That's a term I've coined to represent taking extended time away from home just for the purpose of relaxing. As a wife and mother time alone is a luxury hardly seen. It doesn't happen without some planning. But it's worth the effort.

I began this weekend of self indulgence on Friday night. Dinner with a friend and girl time afterward at her place.
Saturday morning kicked off with time in the salon, and the shampoo girl had apparently eaten her Wheaties because she gave my hair a thorough scrubbing and my scalp felt brand new by the time she was done.

The next stop on my egotistic journey was a spa where I experienced a first. The masseuse was a man. How awkward to be so nude in front of a stranger of the opposite sex who is getting paid to feel you up! And I don't think this guy was gay so I was anxious to see how this would turn out. I got over the jitters the minute he applied pressure to my aching muscles, the way only a man's hands can. It was divine. From this day forth I will request a man for my massages.

Now, I'm sitting here in the plush bedding of a local Double Tree with a delightful Thai dinner digesting in my belly. I'm alone, free to read, sleep, blog, watch TV or even pick my nose without a soul to interrupt me.

Beyonce, you know I love you but...um...

Of course I bought the Beyonce album yesterday. And I have been trying to figure out how I feel about it ever since. I am a fan. I mean it. I think she is an awesome performer and find her existence quite inspirational.



Because:
1. If she can be fly with big hips and butt, then so can I
2. If she can work hard to get what she wants out of life, I can too.
3. Her songs are empowering and fun -
Irreplaceable:
Don't you ever for a second get to thinking, you're irreplaceable,
Single Ladies:
Now you wanna trip cause another brother noticed me. If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it.

But this Sasha Fierce has me a bit flummoxed. I completely bought into the idea of having an alter ego and was excited about the double disc. I was, however, less than pleased to learn there are only 11 tracks on the album. To me the word double implies, well, that you're gonna get twice as much! Then media outlets keep reminding us that she acutally recorded about 70 songs, and had to prune them down for this album. Why? It's got two whole discs in the case, sprinkle some more of those songs on there!

Of course she will, just now right now. Give it a few months and there will be a repackaged, limited, extended, "special" edition with more songs (and a DVD) on the shelves. I understand, Beyonce. You have to do what you have to do, but you and Sasha won't get my money again I don't care how many bonus tracks you put on the next version. Wasting all those resources to put one album on two separate discs....

There is just something about him...

Living in Atlanta has short circuited my Gay-dar. When I moved here the gay population was so large and so flamboyant that I would need to be blindfolded to miss it. Then the Down Low lifestyle was revealed to mainstream media leaving me paranoid about every man I saw - from Joe the Plumer on up to celebrity icons. I started to believe all men were switch hitters.

(I think it's a good time to mention that it makes me no never mind what anyone's sexual preference is. I'll leave it up to our maker to judge that matter. Gay or straight, He made us all. )

But as I was saying, my over exposure followed by acute paranoia led to a sudden desensitization. It's to the point now that I have no awareness. Unless a man is over the top with his halter and eyeliner, I seem to miss the subtle clues. And here is why it matters.

I currently have a crush on a gay guy.

I am a married woman, but I do notice a good looking man. So this crush thing isn't going anywhere. But from time to time when a member of the opposite sex, dresses well, speaks well, smells nice and has a "mysterious" air about himself, I tend to notice. I admire those traits. So when my coworkers pointed out the man bag, immaculately groomed hair, and lavender polo being sported by my new found crush, I was left wondering once again: Why are so many gay men such good catches?

Random Acts of Kindness

Recently, I've been buying thank you cards. There was no particular reason other than I liked the cards, I find them on clearance and I believe in keeping some handy. There is nothing like a tangible expression of appreciation.

I think it's a lost art. Most of the time we tell a person "thanks" or send texts and emails, but a card is more lasting and permanent. While on jaunts to this store or that one, I began collecting the drastically marked down and overlooked cards.

I decided that I would personally revive the art of giving thanks and take the time to acknowledge the good deeds that come my way. The next time I had something to be thankful for, I'd be ready.

Then it happened. As if the universe was responding to my challenge, I was showered with random acts of kindness.

Act I
A coworker with a daughter just 6 months older than my own brings in two bags full of gently used hand me downs. These wintery items were right on time, since my toddler was rapidly outgrowing her 2Ts. The 3Ts she passed along are the perfect fit for her legs and this blustery season.

Act II
On Halloween my daughter's daycare had a Fall Festival. But my husband didn't drop her off early enough to enjoy the morning's outdoor activities i.e. bounce house, popcorn, cotton candy. By the time she got to class it was lunch time followed by naptime. Unfortunately, the parents assigned to bring party items neglected to do so. I was pained to think she would have no party activity, especially since she'd been anticipating it for two weeks. I left work, went to Wally World and picked up juice boxes, cupcakes, cookies and chips for their afternoon. Then Mimi the Bee, her honorary godmother ordered Pizza Hut and sent it to my baby's class. She saved the day and turned the 2A class into party central.

Act III
A coworker and I often speak about what we want to be when we grow up. We talk about dreams deferred or partially developed. I told Coworker about an article I read that explained the benefits of writing a bucket list or those things you wish to accomplish before death. Then out of the blue a package arrived at my home. It was the most thoughtful and appropriate gift I've received in a while. It was a Permission to Dream Journal complete with prompts and motivational quotes to help me outline my wildest dreams and plan out more practical goals. It's perfect.

Those thank you cards were put to good use.

Morning Glory

I'm developing a new habit. It's an addiction of sorts. And believe me, I never thought I would fall prey to this kind of activity, but it is so refreshing and exhilarating that I find myself wondering how I stayed away from it for so long.

I'm exercising!

It's not that I've never worked out before. In fact, I've been taking 30-minute walks on a daily basis since the spring. But now...now I'm getting up before the sun to head to a gym and do an hour of the unthinkable. I'm spinning. Let me explain. These spin classes are the most excruciating form of cardio that's been dreamed up to date. This is all in my opinion of course.

To spin, you perch on the narrow and rigid seat of a stationery bicycle and, then you spin the wheel by peddling ferociously. The best part is increasing the tension of the wheel at intervals dictated by the instructor. Turning that wheel to the right makes it more and more difficult to push those pedals in smooth rotations. For fun, the instructor asks you to simultaneously stand and pedal or jump up and down while pedaling. It's an adventure every time, these sixty minutes of sweat.

The most surprising part is how much I enjoy the burn. But more than that I think it's the awareness of becoming fully awake in my body, mind and spirit before starting my day. It's dark when I wake up and dark when I descend into the train station to make my trip to the gym. It's cold and the world is barely turning. The greater population is yawning as I climb out of the station and head for the athletic club. There is never more than a handful of participants in the class, but we're there waking up. Honoring our temples. And it feels precisely like worship when we dismount the bikes and get in a full body stretch. This is the way to start the day. My muscles are elated when I hit the showers and when I head back out toward the train, the sun salutes me and my heart smiles. I feel blessed. I am alive.