HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Father Time can’t get his ragged butt out of dodge quick enough for me. I am so excited at the prospect of a new year that I am ready, willing, and wanting Baby New Year to get here quick to challenge me with whatever he has in his bag of tricks.

2009 almost got the best of me but I’m still standing on faith, still believing in the power of prayer, and still trusting in God to see me through.

I heeded the wisdoms that were shared with me this past year. Subsequently I took a number of risks, sometimes jumping without thought, or fear, into the unknown. I learned many lessons. I realized that there were doors that closed so that others could be opened. Something I thought I wanted eluded me and I’ve come to realize that it was truly a blessing in disguise. I broke some rules, made some mistakes, claimed some successes, and through it all stayed true to myself.

2010 will usher in a wealth of hope and potential. I’ll be reviving life into my Stallion boys, writing like my life depends on it and spinning myself into as many new adventures as I can muster. I will continue to try and live a good and honorable life, enjoying every minute that is given to me. I am letting go of the past and moving forward. And it is all good.

To family, friends, and those just passing by, may you each have a safe, happy, and blessed New Year!

CRASHING DOWN

Tabitha and Ben hit a brick wall in their relationship. I know brick walls. I have hit a few of them myself. But Tabitha says she’s crashed so hard this time that it will be a miracle if she’s able to recover at all.

She and Ben are going into year four of their relationship. Tabitha is afraid that they may have come to the end of the journey together. The first year they hit your typical new relationship stuff, navigating unpacked baggage from their pasts. Those small humps just required some tactful maneuvering.

The second year, Tabitha hit brick when Ben told her he liked her a lot but he didn’t know if he was really in love with her. Tabitha hit brick but the duo managed to bounce back from the impact. Ben was optimistic about her and him and he wanted them to work through whatever was keeping him from giving her his whole heart.

Year three, however, has turned out to be a whole other beast. Tabitha did something stupid and stupid has cost her Ben’s trust.

“I wasn’t trying to be devious,” Tabitha insists, telling me about the telephone call from another man that she wasn’t totally forthcoming about with Ben. “He wasn’t someone I was interested in, nor do he and I go out of our way to communicate. I just didn’t want it to be an issue between me and my guy when it didn’t have to be. I would never betray Ben's love that way!”

But it became an issue, one Ben took to his heart, the ugly of it like an elephant between them that just won’t leave the room.

Last week Ben told her he wasn’t ready for their relationship to move forward. Ben told her he was still trying to figure out if Tabitha truly loved him or if he was just a pawn in some game she was playing.

Tabitha was heartbroken, unable to fathom how Ben could not know her heart. She cannot understand how Ben doesn’t know just how much she loves him, even if she did do something stupid. She cannot begin to comprehend how Ben would think that she would purposely try to hurt him.

Brick walls hurt like hell. Especially when they come crashing down on top of you. I know. I’m still trying to dig out from beneath my own.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The turkey is in the oven. Most of the presents are wrapped and here on the east coast Christmas Day is officially here. I am cuddled close to my favorite guy, feeling safe and secure and immensely loved. The only things missing are that dang Christmas tree and enough snow to cover the ground and make it a white holiday.

Being safe, secure and immensely loved has done wonders for my previous "bah humbug" mood. Santa done good this year and I have much to be thankful for.

Merry Christmas and I wish you all a very safe and blessed holiday!

HAPPY WITH LAUGHTER

Christmas is right at our doors and I am more ready for it to come and be gone, than I am for it to come at all. Shortly after Thanksgiving I was excited at the prospect of the holiday. That excitement got kicked to the curb and is in need of some serious resuscitation. I’m thinking though that it can’t be revived in such a short period of time.

Like most little girls l I loved Christmas. But what was most exciting for me was when our Christmas tree went up. Decorating it was always quite an event in our home. There’d be music and popcorn and cookies baking and everyone would be happy with laughter.

Christmas trees have always fascinated me. I love the lights and the ornaments and the sheer beauty of taking something so magnificently beautiful and transforming it into something even more extraordinary. Back in the day we went from a live tree to an artificial one but it worked. As an adult, when doing Christmas for my children I always had a live tree. It became tradition for us to go pick out our tree and each year we purchased one special ornament to add to the elaborate collection of ornaments that I had amassed over the years. Back then my kids were happy with laughter.

One of my most favorite Christmas tree memories happened when I was a senior in high school. The boyfriend of the moment was home from college. I was working part-time at a local department store and had drawn the short straw, having to work on Christmas Eve. The rest of the family had disappeared South and weren’t expected to return before the New Year. For some reason, boyfriend of the moment missed his signal to pick me up from work and there I was walking home alone with two toaster ovens and a bag of assorted gifts. About a mile into my journey an elderly couple pulled over and offered me a ride. Doing the unthinkable I accepted since those toaster ovens were starting to seriously wear me down. Arriving safely home, the boyfriend was waiting in my driveway, having not a clue where I had been.

Frustration and anger were the emotions of the moment and then I lit that Christmas tree. As the lights flickered on, happy suddenly pushed every other emotion right out the door. The boyfriend and I turned on the stereo and sat curled together on the carpet beneath that tree. We made a dream list of what we wanted for our future and everything felt like it was falling into a perfect place. We were happy with laughter as we drifted off to sleep, that tree twinkling above our heads.

Sadly, I haven’t had a tree for almost four years. I thought this year might be different. I was thinking that this year I’d finally have a tree again. But this year isn’t shaping up to be a tree year at all. But maybe what I need most is just to go get me a tree and remember what it is to be happy with laughter.

AARGH!!!!!!!!!!!

Aargh!!!

I have been lost in the middle of a story that I haven't been able to manipulate the way I needed to. Then I got it. I saw the words string themselves together and it was a pretty moment. Then just like that I lost it. Noise and clutter got all up in my way. Struggling to get them back I politely excused myself from family and friends to clear my head and regroup.

And just like that the words came back as neatly as before. But before I could get them onto paper, noise came clammering back again. The noise is so intrusive that I can't even see straight so putting pretty words onto paper doesn't even stand a chance.

NOT THE FAVORITE FLAVOR

I sometimes feel like the fabric of being black in a world where such is not the favorite flavor cripples our ability to see things with an otherwise open mind and eye.

Publishers Weekly took a mountain of flack this week for its current cover. The image, (Pickin’, 1999) by photographer Lauren Kelley is a powerful depiction of a black woman whose crowning glory is a giant sculptural Afro hair-do comprised of hair picks with plastic handles molded into black power fists.

This particular photograph was taken from the book , Posing Beauty: African American Images from the 1890s to the Present by Deborah Willis, who also curated the accompanying art exhibition, Posing Beauty in African American Culture which will travel nationally beginning Spring 2010. All of the images in the exhibition, including Pickin,’ "challenge idealized forms of beauty in art by examining their portrayal and exploring a variety of attitudes about race, class, gender, popular culture and politics as seen through the aesthetics of representation."

The Publisher’s Weekly senior news editor, Calvin Reid didn’t anticipate the flack he’s gotten for his selection. Folk’s just didn’t get the quirky, tongue-in-cheek appeal intended as a pun to highlight a story that “picked” new black titles of interest in the publishing industry. Instead, the photograph was seen as a disparaging and degrading image of a black woman that many were offended by. Few saw it for the work of art that the artist intended for it to be. There was no thought to there being a parallel between the power in black hair and the power of black authors and their writings, or the sheer power of being black when such is not the favorite flavor.

The negative responses were so abundant that Mr. Reid has since issued a statement and apology wherein he acknowledges those critics who didn’t approve of his selection, noting his regret for offending anyone since such was not his intent. The man chose that particular image simple because he loved it.

Sadly, the cover image has gotten more notice than the accompanying article did and when one considers that black authors and their writings are being demarginalized to the point of becoming obsolete, you’d think we’d want to focus and comment more on Felicia Pride’s feature on black authors and black books in today’s market place, than on the accompanying cover art.

PS – Both the book and exhibit are incredible. The images are unique and thought-provoking. If you have an opportunity, see the show or head to the nearest bookstore or library to enjoy the book.

BIG ASS BOULDERS

The past two weeks have been one hell of an uphill climb. And Lord knows, I surely didn’t look as good as he does doing it!

Natural disaster, insurance claims, miscommunications with loved ones, dreaded deadlines, and the fragile thread between sanity and a full blown breakdown have had me behind some big ass boulders trying to push my way to the top. I’ve still got some distance to go but I can see clear sky ahead and that’s a good thing.

Now if I can only move these last few rocks blocking my path I may very well enjoy the upcoming holiday and be ready to rock in a New Year.

TOO MANY QUEENS IN THE BEEHIVE

It’s a law of nature. You cannot have more than one queen in a hive. A multiple-queen colony is dependent on those queens being able to exist in a harmonious manner. Harmony being the key. As I tried to explain to my boy Derrick, it doesn’t even work with bees so the chances of it working with women is slim and nil. Without that harmony those queens don’t do anything but wreck havoc in an otherwise peaceful home.

Derrick has too many queens in his beehive. Ex-wives, new girlfriends and family each trying to take care of his needs. Ex-wives, new girlfriends and family each trying to sit on top of King Derrick’s throne. Derrick’s queens are battling for space; closet space, parking space, kitchen space, Derrick space. But boyfriend can’t seem to grasp why any of his women would have a problem. Derrick doesn’t understand the law of nature that says there can only be one Queen and only one Queen can rule.

DESTINATION DEBORAH

Okay, so my very special friend got a new toy at Best Buy’s Black Friday sale. The man walked away with three GPS systems and has been testing them out all weekend. Yesterday, he’d determined which one had the features that most suited his needs and he sent the others back to the store. I was about ready for him to return every one of them.

The man has been like a five-year old with a Christmas truck. His face lights up every time he discovers the something new his thing can do. I’ve been shaking my head, ignoring his excited outbursts after Monday’s midnight ride to the mall to see which one rerouted us and which one didn’t.

Tonight, as we said goodnight, preparing to go to sleep, he tapped his toy and plugged in some new setting. It was too much to ignore so I had to ask.

“Please, tell me where you need directions to in your sleep?”

As his thing chirped and flashed, he grinned, setting it gently on the nightstand. Then with a smug chuckle, he said, “Destination Deborah!”

So maybe his toy's not so bad after all.