I'm in love

Annointed, Chosen, Destined - he's all of the above. Call it what you want, this man was made to bring this change, at this time, to this country. I couldn't imagine the United States getting this wrong or watching it be stolen or taken away. 

I just watched his acceptance speech and I'm amazed, energized and elated. There is something fascinating about watching history in the making. It's a feeling that for the rest of my life, I will remember this. What I was doing and where I was the moment this country - that once considered Blacks to be property - elected a Black man as the candidate of a major political party. 

It's like Martin Luther King Jr. said in his I Have a Dream speech: "America has written a promissory note that has come back marked insufficient funds." For that reason, 45 years ago, Americans marched to cash in that bad check and we may have received some of the funds but clearly there was still a balance remaining to be satisfied. 

Obama is the reconciler of that account. What I love the most is that he is so much like all of us. He truly represents the majority of Americans and is not ashamed to say so. 

So I pray for Obama lately more than I pray for myself. I'm proud of my country lately, more than I've been since 9-11 and I am hopeful and ready for Change. 

 

Whoa! What happened to JoJo?

In case you missed it. K-ci and JoJo of Jodeci fame are apparently on drugs. Why are celebrities so prone to addictions? It's making me reconsider auditioning for American Idol, if I make it to Hollywood I may never come back. I may end up strung out on the 101, telling Diane Sawyer, "crack is whack," or just whacking my head on the stage in the middle of a performance.

That's what happens to JoJo in this YouTube video. He just falls out. It's shocking, yet hilarious. This is sad. But I can't stop laughing at it. Maybe I'm laughing because of the absurdity. It's almost like something comedians would do in a parody or some slap stick physical comedy movie. 

Poor JoJo. He always came off as the grounded, "good" brother. Maybe their former producers will step in and do an intervention. Clive is getting Whitney back on track. I hope someone gets to these brothers before it's too late. 

Watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVjLN8mFYTI

Kenmore I need you!

Somethings not right. I don't know if it's the full moon or weather conditions, but my oven stopped working. I am borderline distraught. The range still works on my gas stove, but that oven is out of order. 

Where will I roast all these vegetables I just bought from the market? How will I bake my signature crab dip for this weekend's get together? Who should I even call to fix this problem?

Of course, I'm going the do-it-yourself route first.  According to the internet boards, this could be a case of an extinguished pilot light. Four years and now the pilot wants to go out! I may be able to climb under there somewhere and reset it. But I'm deathly afraid of having the gas line get ruptured and blow up in my face. If anyone is out there just pray for me, and my Kenmore. But most of all pray for my husband that he is not injured while following my web-based instructions.  

I just want to cook. 

Toe-mented

My husband has a habit of kicking me right in the shins while we're in bed. He'll turn to face me and curl his body into a semi-fetal position then swing his legs out until his feet dead end on my shins. 

Ouch! 

This time, I'm actually cut. His talons broke the skin and I have a wound. I had to spring from bed,  interrupting my restful state, to douse it with peroxide and apply Neosporin. And here I sit hours later with it stinging like a paper cut.

He's taking the denial stance saying things like, "My nails aren't even that long ...I just trimmed them...I don't know how you got cut" I'll tell you how. You sliced me with your overgrown keratin. I know you're reading this, Husband. 

Get the clippers!

Walkin' it out

I'm at it again. Walking the streets of Midtown in my work clothes and sneakers. Whatever! 

I don't care what you think. I even do squats and crunch my side obliques at the stop lights. 

When I have a six pack and buns of steel, we'll see if I still look "crazy"

I'll admit. I used to judge.  I'd think, "No way! What is she doing?" whenever I saw a woman power walking in the middle of the day in her good clothes. But now I am so down for the cause - with the exception of walking in my work clothes. I bring a change. 

Early in the spring, the ladies in my department made a pact - no pregnancies required! We agreed to get focused about getting fit. That meant no one would bring in Krispy Kreme or bags of chocolate for the candy dish. We were all unhappy with our physiques. It was time to act.

Accountability ensued. So now, when someone expresses a desire to eat Dunkin Donuts we lovingly discourage her. And, together, we walk about 1-mile each day. It's group mentality at its finest. 

In the food court: "Are you sure you want fries with that?"

In the break room: "You know coffee isn't fattening until you add all that cream and sugar"

After some time off: "Did you work out this weekend?"

Before a walk: "That's no excuse! I have extra socks."

Vacation Mojo

My office mate and coworker is eagerly anticipating her vacation. It's so obvious, there she is working like a cyclone to empty every inbox. Files that have been sitting on the shelf for nearly a year have disappeared. She even brought in a Dustbuster!

Coworker over there is experiencing something I survived just one week ago. It's Vacation Mojo - the fury and fervor we all find for our work just before we embark on an anticipated absence. We're prompted to tie up loose ends and address everything that's urgent and outstanding. 

No one wants to risk being found out when they're away. It would be horrifying for our bosses to need something done and realize you haven't done it. Because, inevitably the minute you're out the door and out of touch, someone will need something from your desk. Then, they'll be riffling through your stuff and, if necessary, IT will be called in to unlock your desktop. God forbid! 

They may open your internet browser and see your favorites menu: Amazon, YouTube, Yahoo. The company intranet? That's not even in your history. 

So my friends, it's in our best interests to have everything in order. And all deadlines met because you won't be around to defend yourself if they're not.

If your desk is a mess and crumbs are sprinkled between the QWERTYUIOP of your keyboard, anyone who stops by will notice how you squander company property. You won't be there as a distraction, so they'll see your disregard in all it's glory. 

That is why we all catch a case of Vacation Mojo before departing for an absence. That's why Coworker over there is on her knees with that DustBuster. 

Hey Mister

There was a man in the food court today who was clearly smitten. As I approached, he stood there dumbfounded with a smile he couldn't contain and offered me his place in line. 

I declined. I needed time to figure out if my $5 would be enough to cover my lunch. I calculated then confirmed with one of the regulars. She assured me it would be $4.60. Good, now I can order something with confidence. But there he stood. I could see him in my peripheral, watching me and stalling his transaction. It's okay. I get it. I'm jazzy today. 

I did just remix my look. I'd started to hate my hair. It just hung there mocking me, looking so plain and vacillating between medium and short lengths. I'd cut it from shoulder length into a long bob around Christmas. And true to it's name, it kept bobbing up and down a couple of inches every six weeks. I'd get it trimmed and six weeks later need to trim it again. 

Enough! I told my stylist to just kick it up a notch. Then BAM! -  just like Emeril, she chopped that hair away from my head like she was trimming fat from a ribeye. Now, the back of my neck can breathe. It feels grreat and I'm so liberated. 

I'm more attractive, thinner and my posture has improved. Isn't that amazing? I have more swagger in my strut and a brighter twinkle in my eye. I feel good, so that makes me look better. It's true. 

Don't believe me?

Ask the man in the food court who waited lingering over the condiments, just so he could smile at me again and offer his assistance. But it's okay. I can get my own napkins. You just keep standing there looking as I walk away. I didn't even look back.