Reminiscing

The summer that I regained my senses and decided that I didn't want to be a lawyer, this was the theme song for me and my girls. Perhaps it is still one of my theme songs.

Probably because I grew up with Janet. And she's only about a month older than I. And she's still one of the hottest women out there. She reminds me that even though I am in my 40s, I can still be hot. Just like Madonna at 50 does. And Susan Sarandon in her 60s. When I hit my 60s, I want legs like Tina, a face like Leena, and the social consciousness of Susan Sarandon.

What we got from that song was that certain kind of swagger. (I had had before the song came out but then lost it along the way. Some bad relationships that made me question myself.) It's the walk of someone who knows that they own whatever place into which they are walking.

Sure the song is about some guy but it could be so many other things. Like that job you really want. Because somewhere along the way I learned how to put on the mask. How to act utterly confident even though my knees were knocking. (In days of old, the knee thing would be a figurative thing since they were in plain view due to my really short skirts.)

To me the song became about claiming the things that you wanted out of life. And not being afraid to say it -- even if in veiled references. Because let's get real. Sometimes if you state your true intentions, there are others who are more than ready to step in your way.

Oh, and to make things clear, I have never purposefully taken some other woman's man. In the early days of my college years, guys would ask me out and I would accept. I would then learn that these guys had girlfriends. I would drop them as quick as possible. I had this silly idea that if a guy left his girlfriend for me, he would do the same to me when the next new thing turned his head. I may look like a tramp at times but I have always had principles.

Might have something to do with having divorced parents and having huge trust issues as a result. * It might have something to do with having an uncle who's a dawg with a capital D. I don't think he's ever been faithful in any of his relationships. I know because for years I was his confidante. (My mother has always had huge issues with this. Imagine that? The queen of no boundaries calling someone out over the same thing.) He told me that I should avoid men like him at all costs. (He's also one of the other sick people in my life. At first they thought that he was rejecting his kidney transplant but now they're not sure. Because even folks on my mom's side of the family get sick. And he's 54. I hope they get it all straightened out because I'm not ready to let go of my Uncle Juju yet.)

All I know is that this is one of the songs that I play when I am starting to doubt myself. It makes me feel like I can do anything. As opposed to the song that shares its title with this post. That song just makes me feel weepy and shit. So I'm probably going to be playing this song for many weeks to come. So that I can find my way back. Crap. Now I have a whole other song going through my head. Great.

* Trust is a funny thing. When I write stuff here, I realize that there is a certain level of trust. Perhaps the semi-anonymity allows me to say the things that I otherwise wouldn't. Thus my anxiety in meeting folks from the blogging world. I am the queen of compartmentalization -- except here. I compartmentalize stuff to protect myself emotionally. So for those of you who have met me as a result of this blog, I'd like to tell you that it is a very hard thing for me. It's why none of my friends outside of the blogosphere or my family knows how to find this. Because some of them would use this all against me.

A quiet Saturday of sorts

I told y'all that I wasn't going anywhere today. I've managed to clear most of the new shows from my DVR. Then I was once more sucked in by VH1. This time it was the "100 Greatest Hip Hop Songs." So yeah, I just finished watching all five hours straight through.

Watching the show made me remember my love of acid jazz. Yes, I love all kinds of music but back in the 90s my first choice was probably acid jazz. It's still probably one of my preferred genres right along with trip hop.

And then of course I got to reminiscing. I know I do this because so much in my life is up in the air right now. My dad hasn't decided what to do with my aunt's property. My stepmother continues her slow deterioration and everyone says how great it is that she's still around. And I think to myself, "Yeah, it's great for you but is it for her?" I occasionally think that I am a bad person for thinking that she should just hurry up and die. In the midst of this, my company is moving. Actually this is a good thing but it's change just the same. Just like getting the promotion earlier this year. I think I've surpassed my limit of change for a single year.

It has suddenly dawned on me why my mind wants to slip back to Autumn 2001. There was loads of family deaths and illness that year as well. And I changed jobs.

The music made me think of that time because just about every Friday night I would head into North Beach and dance for hours straight. The place was a bar/club. Actually it was a bar that had a tiny dance floor. And a DJ who would come in on weekends. He would start off mellow with a little Sade but as the evening progressed, there would be stuff like The Roots and Q-Tip.

My last day of work at the Death Star, I had invited a number of friends to join me at this place to celebrate my new path. (I had been to the place once before on a date and how vowed in my mind to return.) None of them showed. I remember standing at the curb in front of the place, smoking a cigarette when the realization hit that none of them were going to show up. The window to the place was open and these two guys were sitting at the table by the window. We started talking. I told them that even though my friends had flaked, I had no intention of leaving. They invited me to join them at the table. Actually it was the owner's table but they assured me that he wouldn't mind my presence when he eventually showed up. He didn't. The place closed at two; I stayed until four or so. And then started coming back every weekend.

I still have many of the clothes I wore back then. Occasionally I'll pull out a skirt and then put it back. Too short. Back then, they couldn't be short enough. Of course, I was also ten to fifteen pounds lighter then. And yes, I know that I'm not fat. It's just that those clothes make me feel that way.

What I've realized is that I really miss that person. Sure there was a load of self-destructive behavior back then, but I also had the ability to say, "Fuck them," when people flaked. Because I've hit that point once more. Of course, I don't want to get too carried away. My mother has dumped most of the people in her life -- or they her -- so that I am about all she has left. And it gets rather suffocating at times. But I'm thinking it's time to get rid of the "dead weight" so that I can move on. I just want to be that person who didn't need anyone else. Just being somewhere was fun.

Small roads

I suddenly realized something this past weekend. I've missed out on a great deal of the beauty of California because of my mom's fears. Specifically my mother has a fear of bridges and two lane roads.

When I first started going to Pt. Reyes Station, I mentioned it to my mom. She asked about the roads. I told her the truth. She said, "No."

But I love two lane roads. I love drawbridges. And so it was perfect that Saturday afternoon/evening found me driving through the Delta. (Even if I had "Walking in Memphis" stuck in an endless loop in my mind.) I thought of y'all while I was driving. Like, "I should pull over to take some photos," but the sun was setting and I try not to do those kinds of roads after dark if I've never driven them several times. So I'll be heading back.

I previously said that Sunday was my "me" day but Saturday evening was as well. Getting behind the wheel of my car on open, or fairly open, road is very relaxing. By the time I got home Saturday night I had clocked around 260 miles of driving from the time that I left home for work on Friday morning. Looking at the number, I think that it really isn't that much but then I think about the reality of it all.

Friday morning I drove to work in San Francisco. At the end of the day, I drove home through Friday night commute traffic. It was road rage worthy. After eating dinner, I gathered my stuff and then drove to Sacramento. After doing three and a half hours of work in my dad's office on Saturday, I drove to Tobie's housewarming. And then home.


On the road between Sacramento and Lodi.


Brannan Island Levee Road in the Delta.

It was the drive to Tobie's and then the drive home that took me through the Delta. I haven't spent much time back in that area. Might have something to do with the great number of folks who some may classify as being "rednecks" around those parts. Always made me a bit uneasy.


Berkeley Plantation, Virginia.


James River.

Just like how I will do ten hour drives by myself through the Deep South but I don't stray onto those small roads unless I really know them. Because solo driving in the U.S. means that I look at things not only through the lens of gender but through that of race as well. When I lived in Virginia, my downstairs neighbor, the self-proclaimed "redneck," told me the places that I should avoid. Oh, and I should explain. Her calling herself a "redneck" had nothing to do with her political beliefs. Nah. She just didn't have a college degree, liked country line dancing, and Jack Daniels. It was more an acknowledgment that white folks with more money than what she had looked down their noses at her. A lot of her kind of folks were my friends when I lived in Virginia. Maybe there was a shared experience that the dominant society would never think that you were good enough for them.


Yorktown.


Williamsburg.


Jamestown.

I digress. Bottom line is that I need to do here what I did in Virginia. It was much easier there because of the French Bitch, the Peugeot I drove back then. My car had phantom problems in the electrical system. This meant that I called the towing company -- in a town of about 10,000 people -- at least once a month. Since I apparently have a distinctive voice, they got to know me at "hello." Now I don't know how much experience you have with getting a jump start but the deal is that you should ideally drive the car for at least 30 minutes after getting the jump. It gets boring driving the same streets and ideally you should take the car on the highway. So while I was waiting for the tow guy, I would pull out my map and look for unfamiliar lines. I quickly learned that I could drive to Jamestown and back if I was in a rush. Have a little more time? Head to Yorktown. Or just explore the other nearby towns. And then there were the days that I would just head out with my camera riding shotgun.

I have been trying to find balance in my life. Over the past weekend I have noticed quite a number of things that were lacking. Hopping in my car and driving down some unfamiliar road is one of them. So now I'm going to figure out how to include these explorations into my life. Because they are me. And I just need to reclaim the pieces of me that have gotten lost along the way.

Note: Photos added from Google the afternoon of 20 August 2008 at the request of
Fluffycat. One day soon I'll go through my old photos and post some of the stuff that I actually took while I lived in Virginia.

One is the magic number

Over this past weekend I thought of many blog posts. The problem was that there seemed to be some overlap in my thoughts so I decided to throw it all together into one of those rambling kind of posts that Nat enjoys so much.

Last week was a hellacious week for me. I'll admit it. I had hit pretty near bottom mentally. As a result I just could not get rid of that tired feeling.

I had promised my dad that I would spend the weekend in Sacramento. But there were things I really needed to take care of at home first. Friday evening found me finally doing some straightening up around my apartment. While eating dinner, I toyed with the idea of going out. I kept thinking, "But I'm so tired." Going out won out though and I headed out around 8:00.

Once at my bar, I grabbed a cocktail and headed out to the outdoor area so that I could drink and smoke. And since I was alone, I pulled out the iPhone to play some games. (Normally I would have pulled out a book but none of my current reading choices fit into my purse.) And as I sat there half-asleep, I told myself that I would leave after a couple of drinks -- the minimum that I would have to order in order to use my debit card.

Yeah. Two drinks. That was before I met the young woman who shared my love of all things Kate Spade. We both agreed that prior to finding Kate Spade, we never were that into purses. But Kate's stuff is different; it's timeless art.

And then Random Boy showed up. And then I ran into Married Guy. Who decided that Friday night was a good time to share the fact that he's always wanted to get into my pants. Uh yeah. And then there was a third guy. At one point I was talking to all three. And letting them decide who should pay for my drinks.

Then the band started. I haven't laughed so hard in quite some time. The way I put it was that they were the kind of band that if you heard a CD, you'd say, "They're OK." And then you see them live and are totally freaked out. Because the lead singer/guitarist thought that he was some sort of god of rock. At least that's what I decided from his facial expressions and behavior. And he so was not godlike.

Sacramento was out of the question for Saturday. I needed caffeine, fat, and carbs. And a little more sleep. But Sunday? I felt like me for the first time in weeks. I wanted to stay at home and bask in my me-ness but I remembered promising my dad that I would show up at some point during the weekend.

Suddenly I had "Cats in the Cradle" going through my head. (I've loved that song since childhood.) Why? Because I thought to myself that if I blew off going to Sacramento, my dad would be greatly disappointed. And then I remembered all those times that I sat around waiting for a guy who would never show up when I was a kid. And then I thought, "Karma's a bitch," but then remembered that I'm a better person than that. So I drove the 160 miles round-trip to spend a few hours with my dad.

My dad kept asking, "What can I do for you?" Finally I knew the answer. "Respect the boundaries I set." It dawned on me that over the last month or so, I haven't really done much of anything that was purely for me -- unless you count sleeping. It was time to start setting -- and enforcing -- boundaries. Part of these new boundaries will be making sure that I have time to go out and laugh and dance and talk about things other than work or my family. As long as this happens, I can get through just about anything.

Today I still felt like me. So much so that I braved Berkeley Bowl this evening -- with a shopping cart. (The trick is to never take the cart down the aisles.) I usually try to keep the Berkeley Bowl shopping down to the what-can-fit-in-the-hand-basket level. But I needed paper products. Desperately. (No, I was not out yet but it was going to happen some time this evening.) And this time I shopped mainly the perimeter of the store for the first time in weeks. (This means that I bought fresh stuff instead of the prepared stuff upon which I have been surviving for most of the past month.)


Coq au Riesling

Thank you, Zoomie for sharing the recipe. I used six thighs. I also followed Zoomie's advice and upped the mushrooms to about a cup and a half or so as well as using about four to five cloves of garlic. Oh, and I used three ounces of pancetta instead of the one ounce the recipe calls for. And since there was so much more stuff in the pan, I doubled the wine and cream. I like things saucy. Now I have a few servings packed individually in the fridge as well as a couple of servings in the freezer.

There's more chicken marinating in yogurt in the fridge. Butter Chicken tomorrow night! And maybe I'll finally go through that issue of Bon Appetit that showed up recently.

So yeah, I'm back.

Representing the Yay

Y'all thought that I was kidding yesterday, didn't you? Teach you to have doubts when the Empress makes a proclamation.

The receptionist at work is deeply into Facebook. Last week she came across this list -- a list of things that prove that one is from the Bay. There was much laughter involved. And the occasional, "Everyone doesn't do that? What?" So let's get onto the list -- with my commentary.

Gas prices are a dollar more than anywhere else in the country.

"We got purple.. we got graaaaapes!" We have the best damn weed in the country. Everyone knows it and anyone who doesn't live here is jealous. Might have to do with our close proximity to Humboldt. Also reminds me of Sunday night at my bar. Not that I smoke because me on drugs? Way scary thought for most folks.

Thizz is your term for E pills.

Broadway is not the plays and theater ... but the bars and stripclubs. Also the reason why when I used to hit the bars around there, guys used to ask which club I worked in. I can't help the way that I dance at times.


Stupid, Dumb, n Hyphy are your descriptive words for a party/club that you went to. Check out the video at the end of this post if you are unclear with these concepts.

Ghost ridin' your car and rollin' with your doors open is the cool shit to do. Nope. That's a cool way to kill yourself. And I think of the Dubs every time I hear "ghost ridin'."

Underage drinkin' starts at the age of 12. What else are you supposed to do when hanging on the pier at the Berkeley marina?>

You've laughed at the Bushman at Fisherman's Wharf.

You've paid money to the robot man dressed in all silver. The robot man is the sheezay.

You've seen Alcatraz from a distance ... but never go. Yep, never been there. That's a tourist thing to do. And one day some tourist will come to town who insists that we go there.

You know someone who runs in the Bay to Breakers every year ... usually naked. I'm not sure about naked but I do know some Hot Tamales.

You can't smoke in restaurants, clubs, bars, or 25 feet near a door of a business. Not sure about this one. Obviously the person has been hanging at the wrong places.

While going over the bridge you think to yourself, what if another earthquake happened right now? After seeing the post-Loma Prieta photos (I was outside of the area at the time.), I try my best not to think about this kind of stuff while crossing bridges.

You went to Club X/City Nights when you were 16 or 17. Ummm. Why would you go there when you were older?


When you hear "I got 5 on it", you yell "Oakland!"
(WHERE YOU FROM??? OAKLAND. SMOKIN')
First of all, you're not supposed to yell out? And if it is OK, what the hell else are you going to say? Because when I was at that firefighter party with Jade and the DJ played this song, everyone called out, "Oakland. Smokin'," at the right point in the song. I think it's the unofficial song for Oakland.

When you from Richmond you holla out, Yee!Yee! Not so sure about this one. Must be some new shit since I left Richmond.


You know exactly who: Mac Dre, Keak Da Sneak, Richie Rich, Spice 1, Turf Talk, The Team, Federation, Mistah FAB, E-40 are... Doesn't everyone? And I've gotta thank my former students in east Oakland for teaching me what "ripper" and "runner" mean. Hint -- they're synonyms.

You've called into Wild 94.9 sayin "St. John you so fierce!" I listen to him regularly but I refuse to say those words -- unless the prize is primo.

You listen to Wild 94.9, 106.1 KMEL, or Live 105 everyday. First three preset buttons on the my car radio.

You actually know a bum or crackhead by face or name. You mean that you're not supposed to?

You've been to a Giants game and seen the Rally Pumpkin.

You've been to an A's Wednesday $1 night. I probably have been but I don't like the cheap seats. I need to be on the third base line.

You've tailgated at the coliseum. Gotta say "no" to this. Raider Nation? Scares the crap out of me -- and there isn't much that scares me.

Ridin' the yellow bus...is not actually ridin' the yellow bus. Well, duh.

You've seen or been to the Chinese New Year Parade. Yep.

You know someone who is a DJ, or tryin' to become a rap artist. And?

There are many white kids in the high-class suburban areas thinkin' they are from Oakland. And then they get their asses kicked.

You get charged an arm and a leg to go across a damn bridge. Hell yeah. I remember the days when you could give the toll person a roll of pennies and roll on.


You own a pair of stunnas. I did. Then they broke. I need to head out to get another pair. Can't lean properly in the car without them.


You know the words to "California Love." You mean that there are people who don't? Oh, and I've always thought that the sign near the beginning of the video was missing a word. It should read, "Welcome to Oakland biotches."

You've been to a concert/rave at the Shoreline. Why would I go to a concert at that toxic waste dump? Obviously a young 'un wrote the list. Someone older? Would have definitely said Day on the Green.

You or a friend have Gas, Break, Dipped in front of a club. Doesn't everyone?

You've gigged on the dance floor.

"YADDYAMEAN" or "SHABOOBALABOOPY" comes out of your mouth at least once a day. Not sure about the second but hell yeah I do the first.

You've been to the Cow Palace for some event. My mother would not allow me to go there. Something about drugs and violence. Whatever.

You know exactly where Pier 39 is. Of course I do. Gotta avoid the tourists.

You got a piercing or tattoo on Telegraph. Check. Need to go back for the tattoo though. Not sure if I'll hit Zebra for the ink. They do a fan-fucking-tastic job with piercings though.

You are still confused why Cal State Hayward changed to Cal State East Bay. It's still Cal State Hayward in my mind.

You know "Goin' Dumb" is a dance ... not an insult to your intelligence. Once more -- duh.

You always represent your area code. Shout out to the 5-1-0. Oh, and hell. Shout out to the 7-0-7. Area code of Vallejo. Home of E-40. Birthplace of my "real parents."

You say "HELLA" at least 50 times in one conversation. Depends on the conversation. Could be more. Could be less.


"...IT'S OFFICIAL LIKE A REFEREE'S WHISTLE...I'M SO BAY WIT IT!!"

Just be happy that I couldn't find my favorite Too $hort song, "Invasion of the Flat Booty Bitches."

The tunes continue

So there's more family drama about which I could write but I need to start moving on. All I'll say is that my stepmother is back in the hospital.* She had a seizure Monday around lunchtime. I got the call while I was at work. And that was when I officially reached the point when I had nothing left in me. To say that I'm burnt would be an understatement. I looked in the mirror a few hours ago to be greeted by ugly dark circles under my eyes. And for some reason the people I see in everyday life, like at work, keep trying to make me smile. Most of the time I want to slap them.

When I get home, I spend a lot of time watching shows taped on the DVR (Reality TV is my friend.) and listening to music. Tonight -- yes, I know that it is technically morning -- I hit YouTube to listen to Two Chinese Boys. Well, more to watch them since they just do a lip sync. And through the related videos, I came across these gems.





Oh, and speaking of music, please do visit my previous post. I like to think that there are still some "easy" ones out there.

* And just when I was getting back to a normal sleep pattern, I have once more returned to my sleepless nights.

Name that tune

There are some memes that I simply cannot resist. This would be one of them. I first saw this through a post that Hilly shared and then over at her blog.

The Rules:

1. Put your mp3 player or music player on your computer on random.
2. Post the first four lines from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song (Skip repeat artists). I decided that if one of these four lines included the song titles I would use only the lines up to that point. If it's the first line, I'll give you the four following -- in one song this meant only giving you three line. So hard this song thing.
3. Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from.
4. No cheating.


1. Right about now NWA court is in full effect.
Judge Dre presiding in the case of NWA versus the police department.
Prosecuting attourneys are MC Ren Ice Cube and Eazy muthafuckin E.
Order order order. Ice Cube take the muthafuckin stand.
Fuck tha Police by NWA guessed by rawdawgbuffalo

2. Light in your head and dead on your feet
Well another crazy day
You'll drink the night away
And forget about everything
Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty

3. Never thought I’d see you like this
You lookin’ good when you’re half dressed
Just let me give you one last test
Is that a sin, no
Showdown by Britney Spears

4. Purely intense amazing
Exquisitely devastating
I'm in a daze and I'm
Drenched in our moment
Safe by Bonnie Bailey

5. It's not the pale moon that excites me
That thrills and delights me, oh no
It isn't your sweet conversation
That brings this sensation, oh no
Nearness of You by Norah Jones

6. See, first of all
I know these so-called players wouldn't tell you this
But I'm a be real and say what's on my heart
Let's take this chance and make this love feel relevant
Let's Get Married by Jagged Edge

7. My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin guessed by Bella Karma

8. It all came so easy, all the loving you gave me
The feelings we shared, and I still can remember
How your touch was so tender, it told me you cared
We had a once in a lifetime
If Ever You're in My Arms Again by Peabo Bryson title guessed by Nat

9. They're like the latest fashion
They're like a spreading disease
The kids are strappin' on their way to the classroom
Getting weapons with the greatest of ease
Come Out and Play by Offspring guessed by Nat

10. Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life
It would be, it would be so nice
Everybody spread the word
Holiday by Madonna guessed by Nat

11. I wanna rock right now
I'm Rob Base and I came to get down
I'm not internationally known
But I'm known to rock the microphone
It Takes Two by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock guessed by Bella Karma

12. The more you make me see
By giving me all you've got
Your love has captured me
Over and over again
The Closer I Get to You by Roberta Flack

13. I'm having trouble trying to sleep
I'm counting sheep but running out
As time ticks by
And still I try
Brain Stew by Green Day

14. Boy I`ma make you love me, make you want me
And I`ma give you some attention, tonight
Now follow my intuitions, what you`re wishin`
See I`ma keep you up all night, for a long time
One Minute Man by Missy Elliott

15. Words in papers, words in books
Words on tv, words for crooks
Words of comfort, words of peace
Words to make the fighting cease
Wordy Rappinghood by The Tom Tom Club

16. How can I put this in a way so as not to offend or unnerve
There's a rumor goin' all round that u ain't been gettin' served
They say that u ain't u know what
In baby who knows how long
Gett Off by Prince

17. Son you better be ready for love
On this glory day
This is your chance to believe
What I've got to say
Time Out of Mind by Steely Dan

18. Since I could call you
But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem
the consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my mean
It's Been Awhile

19. You know what the Midwest is?
Young & Restless
Where restless (Niggas) might snatch your necklace
And next these (Niggas) might jack your Lexus
Jesus Walks by Kanye West

20. When your world is full of strange arrangements
And gravity won't pull you through
You know you're missing out on something
Well that something depends on you
The Look of Love by ABC artist guessed by Nat


And yeah, I know that I copied lyrics that include the "n" word. I can do that. Most or the rest of you can't. Unless you want a beatdown. And the beatdown is not being racist but someone of the paler nation using the "n" word is. Why? Because implicit in the definition of being racist is being in a position of power. Last time I checked, my people were not there so while we may be prejudiced, we are not racist. Get your terminology straight. And frankly, I have yet to meet a person who is not prejudiced in some way or another. It's what we do about our prejudices that really matters at the end of the day.

And maybe one day I'll let y'all guess what the default ringtone on my cell phone is. It surprises most folks. And that's all I'm going to say. Actually now that I think about it, I just might be willing to give out a prize to the person who can correctly guess my ringtone. Consider it the bonus question. (Sorry but I am going to disqualify Buzzgirl, Fluffycat, and Zombie Mom from a possible prize for this question as they may have actually heard the tone.)

But in the meantime, try to figure out the songs.

Seems like Nat is the winner. Guess I have to figure out a prize for her.

When I grow up *

For days I have thought of posting. I just didn't have the energy.

Saturday I headed out to dinner with Flufficat, Buzzgirl, Jade, Emerald and another friend. Let's call this other friend LA Teacher for now. After dinner, LA Teacher and Flufficat joined me at my favorite bar. Well, they joined each other. I was bad and kind of did my own thing. I had meant to take photos throughout the evening but forgot to. Well, I thought I had but apparently I took photos of boys at the bar. And even posed for one with them. Imagine that. Have I ever mentioned that my bartender tends to be a little heavy handed?

Sunday I managed to crawl out of bed to head to the Zombie household for a barbecue. And that's where I received the pictured item. Needless to say, I wore it for the rest of the day.

When I started this blog years ago, I never thought that as a result I would end up with some wonderful friends along the way. And I guess that that's why I have not been able to walk away from blogging completely.

* I wasn't sure what to call this post but on my way home, I was listening to one of my favorite songs in the car. That decided it for me. Or maybe I was thinking of this song.

The definition of happiness

I've been doing a lot more reading over the last month or so than I have since ... Hmmmm. It would appear that the last time I did this much reading just may have been last summer.

I like to read mysteries but there's only so many dead bodies one can take in one week. Over the last couple of days I needed to switch over to some chick lit. No dead bodies and not a great deal of thinking to do. Or so I thought.

Nearing the end of the book, I came across this -- "...happiness is not getting what you want but wanting what you get..." I don't know about y'all but I had to let that one marinate for a bit.

How many times have we heard someone say, "I could be happy if only..." Oh, let's be honest. How many times have we said these words to ourselves? I know that I have too many times to count. I am also guilty of the variation -- "I can do these things once x, y, and z fall into place." Thing is those things rarely happen and so you end up in this continual holding pattern.

A few weeks ago, I questioned here what it meant to be living. That's because it's always been that happiness was this future thought. And now I'm starting to think that while I may occasionally think that here can suck at times, there is happiness as well. And it's time to start looking for it.

I love my job; it's my commute that gets to me at times. But my commute is going to improve before the end of this year since the company is going to move. I love coming home each night. Yes, Boris can be an annoying little arse. Then there are those times that I'll be reading a book and he'll curl up next to me. And then I remember why I put up with the other stuff. And it's not just my apartment. I love my neighbors, my neighborhood. I have a near impossible time imagining living anywhere else. And some days I am in absolute awe that the former nomad has managed to stay in one place for over three years now.

And then I think about the rest of my life. Sure I'm not dating anyone but I often have doubts that I'm the marrying type. Along the way, I have managed to assemble my own family though -- people whom I love and who I have never doubted love me. And some of them are y'all. The hard part has been in finding the balance between the family that I have created and the one that I was given by virtue of birth.

I do love my blood relatives; I just don't always like them. Probably because deep down inside, I like myself and just can't understand why they act like I should be someone else. I just don't like that person they seem to want me to be. Well, not quite my father. I know that he'd love for me to not be "his wild child" -- the person who can be brutally honest at times and who will do things like dancing because aren't we supposed to be having fun? My father almost never voices his displeasure to me though. He tells me that it's important to be true to ourselves because this is the only way that we can truly be happy. Who cares what other people think? You can't live your life for other people. I know it's cliche but it's so easy to forget along the way.

And so now I'm starting to think that this is all that it's supposed to be -- nothing more, nothing less. And you know what? "It's alright with me."

Junk in the trunk

So Rachel posted this video a few months ago but I decided that it was worth another post.



It still cracks me up. Maybe because I've been reading too many Stephanie Plum books recently. And I could easily see some of the characters in those books in this video. (I must remember to thank Emerald for getting me hooked.) I will eventually be making my way through all of the other reading recommendations I have received over the past month or so. All I have to say is that I currently have something like ten books checked out from the library.

Summer in the PRB*

Yes, I know how to read a calendar. Yes, I know it technically is not summer yet. But there are signs of it here in the PRB.

It started with the excess amounts of furniture along the curb. Every year the city sends out notices about how it's illegal to leave your furniture, and other stuff, on the curb. Every year in May, large amounts of furniture hits the curb. Usually it disappears within 24 hours or so. The sofa pictured? It's been there at least a week.

The next sign was that I no longer do the torturous search for parking. In fact, now there is often an abundance of "good" parking spaces. I know that come August I will hate the return of the students for this very reason.

Also it's been kind of warm around as of late. The kind of warmth that allows one to walk around with sleeveless stuff in the evenings. It's the kind of weather that reminds me of all those evenings last summer that my neighbors and I spent on the front stoop drinking wine and talking about whatever. (Well, with most of the women I talked about body image. And we discovered over the summer that many of us have had some serious issues with food.) If you are not familiar with the Bay Area, then let me just say that we cherish those kind of days. Until we return home to our apartments and houses that are not air-conditioned. Then we pray for fog.


And speaking of sleeveless evenings, Saturday night was the great dinner with Zombie Mom and Fluffycat -- in celebration of Fluffycat's birthday. After dinner, I dropped Zombie Mom at the taxi stand downtown. And of course at that point I was only a couple of blocks from my favorite spot. And the night was young.

The band for the evening was playing jazz. I ordered my usual from my bartender and headed for the small courtyard. Because one can smoke and drink there. I instantly ran into Random Boy (Emphasis on the "boy." We won't even get into the age of this one. Although I did threaten to trade him in for a younger model.) who was kind enough to pay for my drinks the evening of Zombie Mom's birthday celebration.

His first question? "Where are the leather pants?" I explained that the leather pants make limited appearances because they are dangerous. He then remembered some guy getting choked that same night. I explained why the guy got choked. Proof that the leather pants are indeed a dangerous thing. And Random Boy just might be around in the weeks to come.

And thus another sign of summer. The fact that there are boys around who are worthy of nicknames. If this past Saturday is any indicator, we're in store for a pretty wild summer.

On a completely different topic, I also came to another realization this morning. There seems to be some correlation with going out on the weekend and starting off Monday with feeling that I'm going to have a skinny week. (And back to Random Boy. You know you have no super ego when you start telling some guy that you think you're fat even though everything rational is telling you that it isn't true. His response? "Yeah, you're going to need to drop some pounds if you want to hang out with me." And when he said that, I was actually able to take it as a joke. Unlike my mother's comments.) But let's be real about the skinny week feeling. When I go out and party, I tend to eat less. Sure there is a lot of consumption of empty calories but still at the end of it all, I drop some pounds. And there was no puking involved in my weekend. Just to make sure y'all understand. So yeah, I will be getting up off my lazy ass a lot more and heading out. Like I used to.

And I'll keep you posted on Random Boy. It's been some time since I've hung out with a guy who's main interests are hunting, fishing, Nascar, and bourbon.

*PRB is the People's Republic of Berkeley.

Still got it

I had kind of forgotten how much fun going out can be. Sure I spent most of Sunday in a prone position in front of the TV but I (1) caught up on my huge backlog of viewing from the DVR, and (2) actually felt rested when I showed up at work on this morning. I haven't felt rested on a Monday in some time. And I I actually had the energy to do most of that cleaning when I got home -- that cleaning I was supposed to do on Sunday.

But back to the fun of Saturday. There were wonderful cocktails and great conversation. And then there was dancing. Zombie Mom kept on making statements about "stealing a man" on the dance floor. I felt obliged to comply. Because part of my personal soundtrack is Salt 'n' Pepa. Yeah, I know. Kind of mean but kind of fun too.

On my way home, I also felt obliged to stop at my fave bar. I mean there was one parking space in the block -- right in front of the front door. I took it as a sign. (And part of the hell of Sunday was walking back to get my car. Because the ideal "fave bar" is close enough to home that one does not need to drive there.) Zombie Mom was not surprised when I told her yesterday. How can a gal hate a place in which the men buy you drinks and tell you how fabulous you look?

Shortly after arriving, some really drunk, kind of crazy guy started talking to me. I didn't mind because he was kind of entertaining and his friends were buying the drinks. He walked away for a bit and one of his friends started talking to me. Then the friend went to talk to his buddy. Next thing I know the first guy had grabbed the second guy by the throat and had slammed him up against the wall. Apparently the first guy didn't like his friend talking to me. Said something about his friend was trying to mess with his game.

Ahhh. Nothing like some OPH and leather pants... It's been a few years since I have worn the combination and as a result, I had forgotten their power.

Oh, and damn it to hell. I found this through a post that Fluffycat was kind enough to share in her reader.


Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

What do I have to say about my results? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Randomness

These are the other thoughts that eluded me yesterday...

1. My cousin pissed the fuck out of me on Thursday night. She told me that I couldn't bitchslap anyone; they were grieving in their own way. (OK. So I accepted this but not the next.) When I told her about my dad dosing my stepmother with the experimental drug, she was cool with this. Yesterday I talked with my cousin who is a psychologist and she agreed that this is a huge boundary issue. (I also shared some other stuff with her that I may or may not share here but that has added to my stress level.)

2. My uncle pissed the fuck out of me on Friday afternoon. While driving up to Sacto on Friday, I decided that I needed some "company" on the road. I realized later that I had broken one of my cardinal rules -- never call the man after noon his time. What the hell am I saying? Never call after 10 a.m. his time. Because he will be probably be lit. And spewing nonsense that he swears his truth. (Why you looking like that? Like you don't have at least one person in your family like that...) So first he was telling me how I couldn't get overly emotional when I saw my dad. Like I don't know how the fuck to act in a situation like this. But the real clincher? That I must never say the word "hospice." I asked him if he really understood what this meant. Every time I tried to start a sentence at this point, the mutha fucka was cutting me off. Finally I told him that I had done the research and if he was not willing to listen to me, then perhaps he should do the research himself. Until then? Shut the fuck up. Especially when the other person is driving. Drunk ass lazy mother fucker who tries to act like he's shit because he has a masters degree and all but hasn't worked steady in who knows how long because he thinks it's the responsibility of others to take care of his drunk broke ass. When he converted to Islam, he learned the talk but not the walk. Unlike my other uncle whom I should have called since he's sane and all. But that uncle would have been at work at that point in the day. Like a lot of folks I know.

3. In dealing with family over this past weekend, I was able to make a huge decision. My peeps are having a reunion this summer in Nashville. If I was going to venture to the South, it would be to Virginia to see my mama's family. I haven't seen them in three years and my grandmother, my last living grandparent, is getting on in years. Besides, my mother's people have always been real. I have never felt the need to stifle myself in any way around them. And right now, I desperately feel the need to be real. So I'm going to skip the reunion this year. I may feel guilty but in my heart I know it's not the healthiest choice for me. If I had unlimited funds and time, I'd show up. But by then, I know that there will be a profound sense of needing to take care of me. And spending time around my dad's side of the family has never been anything about taking care of me. This was a hard choice to make. My father will be greatly disappointed. Then again, he's the one who recently reminded me that I have to make myself happy.

4. No matter what a sycophant I have thought my stepmother to be over the years, I know that she is a strong and resilient woman. She survived divorcing her first husband when he was cheating on her. And raised two sons. And received a masters degree. No, her behavior otherwise served a purpose. She did what needed to be done. And her "friends"? They have always said how lucky she was to end up with my father. So I'm keeping an eye on those heifers. Because my mom keeps warning me that they are trying to get in position to be my new stepmother.

5. One of the women who dropped off food was perfectly innocent. She is the wife of my dad's dentist. I know the husband went to college with my dad's younger sister who lives in Oakland. My dad really wanted me to meet them. Upon seeing one another, the wife and I instantly realized that we had met at some social occasion previously. This frequently happens with our folks. But her daughter? Well looking at her, I suddenly felt like a fat pig. And I'll let those of you who have met me in person ponder that one. Because I quickly dismissed all of those images in my mind. Well except for the perfectly flat stomach that I had up until about five years ago. And there's a little part of my brain that says that if I puke at least a couple of times per week, then I can get there. Because now I remember that back in the days of the flat stomach, I used to puke at least once a week -- sometimes more. And now at this point, I know a few of you have puzzled looks. Cookiecrumb is taking back her comment yesterday about my being grounded and sane.

6. I have a secret. Well not really because I shared it with my cousin the psychologist yesterday. Saturday my dad returned from the center and received a call from his wife's niece -- the daughter of her sister. She told my dad that she had been visiting with my stepmother earlier in the day and that my stepmother had told her that she was giving up and was ready to die. My dad's reaction was, "Now she'll go telling her mother this and her mother will tell everyone she knows." There was also, "I don't need to hear this right now." And then I walked into the garage when he wasn't expecting me. He barely had time to put the vodka bottle back in its hiding place. But they have tons of alcohol throughout the house. So the hiding? Makes me suspicious. Kind of like when I found the bottle of port at his office a couple of years ago. But we all know our roles. And I'm the enabler -- the one who denies things as vehemently as he does, who lies for him, who turns a blind eye. And all I can think is that it's not just my stepmother who is dying. My family is dying. And I know that hospice care would be the best thing for all of us -- to stop this dying -- but I don't know how to speak up.

7. There's a lot I'd like to rant about but, as I said previously, there are more pressing things in my life. (Yeah, I knew back then how things were going to end; I just didn't think it would be so soon.) Now I don't feel so bad. Thanks to a post that Sizzle shared, I have found my way to The Angry Black Woman. They cover the topics upon which I feel to rant more than sufficiently.

8. After all that cooking this weekend, I realized that I didn't have anything for myself at home. Nor did I have the energy to cook. So friggin' tired. I thought of going to Berkeley Bowl but just couldn't. More on that later though. Poulet came to the rescue once more. Sorry Nat. No carrot cake this time. But there was apple-rhubarb crisp.

9. That said, Buzzgirl sent me a link to this blog yesterday. I'm still wiping away the tears from laughter. There are several funny posts there but this is why I just couldn't go to Berkeley Bowl yesterday. Going to Berkeley Bowl is like going to Whole Foods. Except the prices are lower.

10. I'm starting to see some of Marin's concerns. One of her warnings about this whole mess is how other folks, especially one's boss, don't really understand about being an only child. When things start going wrong with your parents, there often isn't anyone else to help out. These thoughts started to fill my head yesterday when I called Thrive!. There's this one group that meets at 10 or 10:30 in the morning. In the past this group met in the evenings. I can't really see my boss going for my being gone once a week for this. Maybe I should just have a meltdown in the office.

11. Today started off well. As I was parking the car, the radio station was playing "Square Biz." Teena Marie always makes me feel better. And this radio station actually played the full song. This other station plays the song near daily but they have a version that does not include the rap. What's up with that?

12. Yeah, sue me for re-posting but I suddenly remembered what I had previously forgotten. One of my fave parts of American Hustle was when Katt was discussing going to war with China. He said that black folks were not going to have any part of it. He pointed out that black women love their Yaki hair too much. And I've gotta say that he's right. Part of what has helped me to maintain my sanity over the last couple of weeks is OPH -- that's other people's hair, if you are not familiar with the term. And they do make some quality because some folks actually think it's mine. Well, it is because I paid for it. Like my aunt said, "Your hair has really grown and it looks so nice." Ummm. I had a bob at Christmas and now have a ponytail that hangs past my shoulders. I don't think they have invented a drug yet that makes your hair grow that fast. So if you're feeling kind of down, go out and get some hair. I plan to get some more in the coming weeks.

Y'all still are cracking me up

As we are approaching the holiday weekend, I thought I'd share some more thoughts. And it just seemed appropriate, given the holiday.

The other day I published a post that some of y'all took great offense to. Guess what? I still don't give a flying fuck. If it made you feel uncomfortable, then you probably needed to hear it. In order to make change, you need to be willing to talk about those things that make you uncomfortable. Otherwise we are just preserving the status quo.

I think what probably surprised the most was how some folks thought they were voicing an "original" idea. Let me tell you something. I've heard all of your arguments before. Thus my pissed off state. (That also means that I probably have a lot more experience at responding than you do. It's also really depressing that people after all this time have not been able to come up with anything novel. It's kind of like the guy who uses the cheesy pick-up line that we've all heard too many times.) And what is it specifically that pisses me off? It's the attitude of, "Well, this is just the way it should be," and acting like there is no room for discussion. Because that's how it comes off. Someone tries to show you a different perspective of the world and you just want to shut it down because it doesn't align with your world view. Yet another thing to make me sad. Because as long as this type of unwillingness to truly participate in the discussion exists, there will be no change. And maybe you're happy with the status quo but I sure as hell am not. If we were married, then I'd want a divorce.

The talking in movie thing was just an example -- a minor one if you ask me -- of how my feeling, at least, is that decisions about culture have been made in this country. I am not asking others to agree with me about whether it is acceptable or not. What I heard when I read those other blogs was, "I don't really like this behavior and I really don't care why people may behave in that manner." And to me that showed a complete lack of awareness of cultural differences. Because believe me when I say that people of color are fully aware of the dominant culture. We deal with it on a daily basis and are not given a choice about it.

What I would like to see is that we all get to the point at which we can discuss things so that we can come to a consensus. Because as a person of color, it often feels like decisions have been made about who and what I should be while I was not allowed to take part in the process. How can someone realistically expect another person to buy-in to an idea when that person was not a part of the process to begin with?

So here's the deal. Why don't you try opening up your minds? You know. Like what I'm asked to do on a daily basis.

To give you some further insight into my world, this is the city in which I grew up. There's even a movie about my city. I didn't go that high school even though I was supposed to. It wasn't until recent years that I would freely say the city's name. Might have something to do with people's reactions to it. "You're from where? You don't seem like what I'd imagine someone from there to be like." Because people read stuff like this and they get scared. When I was in college, I'd tell people about this because it is one the strong memories of the city from when I was in high school. Because it's always a good sign when "60 Minutes" does an expose on your police department. But there are things to proud of like this place. And now I live in a city in which the holiday is called "Indigenous People's Day." And in which Malcolm X's birthday is a holiday in the public schools. And I love that in these cities I have met so many wonderful people who are willing to take part in the dialog.

Oh, and on another note, BWB confirmed one of my fears the other night. She was telling me that she went to the store to buy oxtails and they wanted $7.99 a pound. What the hell?! I shared the story with my mother. My mother said, "That's just like the catfish."

The detective

So I wrote this post weeks ago but I thought it was appropriate to post it. Because my new boss? Well one of the things he stated last night was that he was concerned about my stress level. I told him that I am a big girl and know how to take care of myself appropriately.

Perhaps I should have seen it as a sign when my new Thrive! card showed up in the mail on Wednesday. And that means that I can schedule that follow-up with my OB/GYN that should have happened in August but when I showed up, someone at my previous job had decided to cancel my health insurance a month early! And of course my appointment was at the end of the last month in which I was to have coverage. By the time I got it all straightened out, it was too late. Because that testing I went through back in April last year? It was for cancer. Everything seemed OK but then my doctor realized that she should have taken a larger sample. My choices were to go through the biopsy again or to come back in a few months for another PAP smear. I, of course, chose the latter. And then the whole insurance thing came up so I haven't been back for the follow-up. I guess I should make the appointment really soon since I'm still not that sure about my job security given yesterday's events. Because "Mom" told me that I should watch my back because we know how those people can be. And I'd like to say that she is just being paranoid, but she isn't. Experience has taught me that people in the work place will bleed you dry for your knowledge and then throw you on the wayside. I mean they were all saying today how much they liked my former boss as a person...

And now onto something slightly lighter...



When I first heard this song, it was like an infection. (It's now one of those songs that I listen to when I am feeling a little beat up by the world. Reminds me. I am overdue for a re-reading of The Tao of Pooh. Both help to add perspective to the world.) I needed to know everything about it. So I bought the CD. And then I read the liner notes. Because the chorus? That was the really infectious part. The first sample listed in the liner notes could not be what was haunting me. It was obviously a rap song and that hook? Well, it definitely wasn't rap. That left the other credit in the liner notes -- Stan Getz. And thus was the start of a long journey.

It seems that the Stan Getz song they sampled -- "Saudade Vem Correndo" -- is now only available on one CD. And I had to special order it. When it came in, I explained to the assistant manager who was ringing up the sale why I had bought it. She asked, "Can we crack it open right now?" As it turns out, she loved the Pharcyde song as well. I told her it was fine with me. So she opened my CD and played it throughout the store. And I was the first one to catch the hook. I screamed, "That's it!" And the next time it came around, she said, "You're right." And then she called the other employees in the store over to take a listen. And we all nodded our heads in agreement.

How was I to know that by buying a Stan Getz bossa nova album that I would start down a long road of various forms of Brazilian music? But that's what happened. And then somehow last spring I found myself in a samba class. If I had stuck it out, I would have danced in the Carnival parade in San Francisco this past spring.

So I guess this is what they mean when they talk about a butterfly flapping its wings. One little action leads to so much.

And if you haven't guessed it yet, music means a lot to me. Probably why when asked if I would rather give up my sight or my hearing, I always say that I would give up my sight. Because long before "Ally McBeal," I assigned theme songs to people. And then cellphone technology advanced enough that I was able to assign individual songs to each person in my address book. Because once I really know a person, I tend to think of them in terms of music. Like Jade will forever be "Baby Got Back." Although she has been trying to lobby for "Bust a Move." And that would mean that the former song would be freed up for someone else. And my dad will always be "Angela" by Bob James. Most folks know this song as the "Theme from Taxi." Me? It will always be the other title because I kind of borrowed the album, "Touchdown," many years ago from my dad and forgot to return it.

Bottom line is that I hear a song, I instantly think of a specific person or a specific place. Even when I have tried to "unlink" a song with a certain memory, I have not been successful. So for me, music will always be filled with a kaleidoscope of memories. Like when I hear "Friends and Lovers," I will always think of my dad's wedding to my stepmother. And that's why I have made y'all suffer through so many music videos lately. Because life always has a soundtrack.

Few words

After yesterday's post and an extra busy day at work, I found myself with not too many words left. So I retreated into that place I always go -- music. After re-watching the VH1 90s countdown, I pulled out some old CDs because I suddenly remembered a favorite from those days.



OK. So I listened to it something like ten times in a row. Because that's the kind of mood I'm in.

A little weekend fun

Yep, another music meme. You're supposed to use your iPod but I don't own an iPod. I know. Sad, huh? Then again I do own this cellphone that also operates as a Walkman. But I wanted more selection (The phone only holds about 50 songs or so.) so I used the Party Shuffle in iTunes instead. Hopefully by now, Jill has added some music to her iTunes. ;-)

Rules: Put your music player on shuffle, press forward for each question and use the song title as the answer.

What does next year have in store for me?
Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty

What’s my love life like?
Showdown by Britney Spears

What do I say when life gets hard?
Safe by Bonnie Bailey

What do I think of upon waking up?
The Nearness of You by Norah Jones

What song will I dance to at my wedding?
Let's Get Married by Jagged Edge

What do I want as a career?
Cat's in the Cradle by Harry Chapin

My favorite saying?
If Ever You're in My Arms Again by Peabo Bryson

Favorite place?
Come Out and Play by Offspring

What do I think of my parents?
Reprise by Erykah Badu

What’s my porn star name?
Holiday by Madonna

Where would I go on a first date?
Do Wa Ditty by Zapp

Drug of choice?
It Takes Two by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock

Describe myself.
The Closer I Get to You by Roberta Flack

What is the thing I like doing most?
Brain Stew by Green Day

What is my state of mind like at the moment?
One Minute Man by Missy Elliott

How will I die?
Wordy Rappinghood by Tom Tom Club

OK. So that was kind of weird.

Sticking with it

I just can't escape the music thing. I got home last night and turned on the TV even though I knew that there was nothing but reruns on. And for some reason the TV was on VH1. And they were doing one of their countdowns -- Top 100 songs of the 90s. Squeee!

Unfortunately last night they did not show the top 20. They'll be running the series again tonight including the unseen top 20. And that's right. I set the DVR to record the whole thing. Because I'm weird like that. And mostly because I will probably sit around tonight with a pad of paper out. To write down the songs that I have "forgotten" and will now have to dig out to listen to once more.

And I wasn't going to do a video today but then I started trying to think of what was one of my all-time favorite songs of the 90s. And it was this one.



Because I still play it now and always will. Because how could you not feel happy listening to this song?

Getting ready for the holiday

I first wrote this post when I thought that there would be an end to what I had deemed as "Music Week." What I have now realized is that music is such a large part of my life that it would be hard to contain it to one week. So expect to see a lot more music, along with the food and other stuff, around these parts. Oh, and probably has something to do with the fact that my dad's older sister is arriving in town today -- the first of the relatives flying in for Christmas.

My daddy is from Georgia. When the family gets together, there comes a point in which we sing every song we can think of that mentions the fine state of Georgia. Here's the collection of songs. And I will admit, for some reason the first song always makes me kind of misty.







The fiddle playin' in this song is incredible.


Hmmm. That just covers my dad's side of the family. I should also represent my mother. I would say her side of the family but there is not much definitive there. Well, perhaps there is but I'll leave that to another post. Instead I give you these selections.



This is one of my all-time favorite songs and I regularly listen to it in my car while commuting. In fact, I was listening to this song right before the Marvin hit the radio about a week or so ago.





Oops. I forgot that my mother is not really into Brazilian stuff like I am. Here's one of her favorite songs by one of her favorite artists.



Celia? She partied until her death. I want her spirit. Just like when I reach 60 or so, I want legs like Tina Turner and a face like Lena Horne's.



I love this song so much that I think you should know the lyrics. If I wasn't so lazy, I'd give you the English translation that's in the liner notes of the album.

I like to think that part of the reason that my mother moved to Mexico started with her love of Spanish Harlem. Although she was born and raised in Virginia, she spent every summer until she graduated from college -- yes, even after she married my dad -- in NYC. When I was growing up, she regaled me with tales of going to the Palladium and seeing greats like Celia Cruz and Tito Puentes. Bottom line is that around age eight or nine, my mom taught me the cha cha. Next was the mambo. I guess I learned merengue and samba on my own. But once you have the basic rhythm, the rest is a piece of cake. We're still working on turns.

Even when my parents are at their highest level of irritation, I can still walk away from it. I remember the wonderful world of music that they gave me. Because even if I cannot fully express myself in speaking to family, I know that I can find a song that will do it for me.

Why bother?

I'm starting to wonder why I bother to write the endless lists. Like my list for Saturday. OK. I did accomplish the majority of the list actually. It's just that things got changed up and the items that should have been then completed on Sunday are still waiting to be done.

Saturday was filled with numerous errands. I left home around 10 a.m. and returned around 3 p.m. The first stop, after checking on mom's house and then making the dreaded phone call, was to Sears. Because I needed more of the cute cabinets. Well, I was going to buy another quad unit and two of cubes with doors. But they only had one of the cubes with doors. And since it was about the same price as the two-cube unit I wanted anyway, I decided to get that instead. I'll find the other cube with door later.

And then I "wasted" time in the store when I ran into old family friends. These are people who went to church with my family when I was growing up. And even though I had my horrid "I'm running errands" look -- that may be why the husband hesitated when he saw me -- I did chat with them. We talked about where various family members are currently (Their daughter is two years older than I.) and how various family members are doing with their illnesses. The wife is a retired RN from Thrive! and is also a cancer survivor.

Next on the list was some grocery shopping -- a little more sane than going to the mall. And I don't know about you, but if there's a line at the grocery store, I will usually end up in a conversation with someone in line next to me. Like last week when I was in Andronico's and the older guy with the accent in line behind me started up a conversation. I kind of cut him off after he said, "You have a beautiful smile." So similar happened at Trader Joe's. Except it was an older woman and we were talking about kids and education. And then she asked where I went to school since I said that I had attended local schools. And then she asked my name and said, "Of course," when I answered. Because once she told me her name, I knew her instantly. She had been my English teacher my junior year of high school. And she's still teaching. And at Lucky, I discussed cheesecake recipes with the woman in line in front of me.


Once home, I made the above Beef Stroganoff. And another pot of cioppino. And was all set to rest and maybe do some cleaning when there was a knock at the door. The guys in the apartment behind me were having a party to celebrate the end of exams and were hand-delivering the invite.

Isn't this the cutest card ever?

So I took a power nap and headed on over the party. And got home around 4:00 a.m. Now you can see why Sunday was pretty shot. But I wouldn't have missed the party. Because no one parties like some engineering grad students. There were festive green and red Jell-O shots. And someone made a comment about, "There's always room for Jell-O." And there was a fridge full of beer -- really quite literally. And Belvedere and Jack. And there was music and engineers trying to dance. And then there was some beat boxing. Basically it had that kind of vibe if the guys at the Buy More threw a party. (Now if they had hopped into a car to drive to a field to bash some office machinery to the dulcet tones of rap music...) Oh, and the women there? Cute. Because as discussed elsewhere in the PRB, women with taste like their men kind of geeky.


Thankfully I had done all that cooking on Saturday because I only had the energy to make this on Sunday. My only splurge while shopping hungry on Saturday -- the mozzarella. Because who can really say no to cheese?

And I'm afraid of what could be in store for this week. Because on Monday, someone at work told me that I might want to wear loose pants all week...



And I guess I still haven't gotten over the music thing. So I leave you with another classic gem. In the meantime, I'm going to sit here at work and try to be pleasant to people while I'm waiting for the 800 mg of ibuprofen to kick in.