I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...

So, I started the whole exercise and diet thing a little early. I figured there was no point in waiting until January 2nd to get started since I’m typically done and finished by January 30th. I’m thinking if I switch it up and start a little early, I might be inclined to do good for a little bit longer. And I’m really not dieting. I’m invoking a “lifestyle change”. Toward that goal I’m determined to make exercise FUN for the New Year because I hate to exercise with a passion. Sweating is only good during really great sex NOT while looking foolish on a treadmill or whatever other gym apparatus I’m inclined to pretend I know how to use. So, a month or so ago I started taking line dance classes. And I am having an absolute blast! I am whole-heartedly uncoordinated, have strained muscles that I have no business using, and have laughed until my stomach has hurt. The instructor, a delightful woman named Leigh, is incredible! She has slowly maneuvered my two left feet into a left foot and a r...

Dear Santa, So it’s been a while since I last wrote you a letter. It was the early 1970’s if I recall when I asked for a pony for the third time and for the third time didn’t wake up to find one in the back yard. The third time, not that I was counting or anything. I don’t hold a grudge but I think you should know, for future reference of course, that a Chatty Patty doll does not measure up when a girl is expecting a pony. Neither does a dishwasher when you’re wanting diamonds and wool socks from Wally World when you kind of had your hopes on Broadway tickets. But hey, I’m sure with all the letters you have to read each year and all of the requests that you get, meeting everyone’s expectations is a bit of a challenge for you and some things are bound to get missed. With all the things happening in the news lately that peace on earth, good will toward men thing seems to be kind of a hit or miss for you as well and I know plenty of other folks have been asking for that too each and ever...

I have the holiday blahs. I was determined that this year would be different. There was going to be a tree and decorations and the baking of Christmas cookies and all those things that I have very fond memories of. I am so far from bringing those warm reflections to fruition that it’s like a wide divide of one big ass mountain between the want and the reality. Right now I am just ready for Christmas to be over. Sitting in reflection today I realized that I am just emotionally exhausted. It has truly been a long year. So long and exhausting that I am just too darn tired to think about any holiday spirit. Fortunately, I know that this too will soon pass and me and Old Saint Nick both will be right back to our usual holiday tricks. At least that’s what I am hoping will happen. Recently I took a trip to Columbus, Georgia to see my baby boy graduate from OSUT training. I am now the immensely proud parent of a United States Army Infantryman. As a parent, there is such a sense of accomplishme...

He was only days old when his father laid him in her arms. He wrinkled his little face as if he were about to cry and then he just snuggled down into her arms and drifted back to sleep. In that moment he became her world, her lifeline to something she didn’t even know she needed. They grew up together. She mothered him to the best of her ability, delighting in every one of his accomplishments. She was there for his first steps, his first words, more firsts than he will ever know. She was also there for the insanity between his father and the mother that birthed him, the duo so consumed with their own frustrations and anger that they sometimes forgot their precious baby boy and how their abuse of each other impacted the family around them. But she refused to forget. He was her heart and she had fallen in love with him the day his father laid him in her arms. He is now a man and the passing of time has not been kind to them. The baby she once held as her own is estranged from her, the tw...

He gets up each morning and gives thanks for the blessing of a new day. He is grateful for each and every one because he is not supposed to be here. An airplane accident almost took him that first time. Cancer keeps trying to take him now. He’s cheated death many times and with each breath that he draws, death is reminded of its failing. He tells everyone who listens just how blessed he is and just how much he appreciates the opportunity to live his life to its fullest. He called to wish me a happy holiday. He started the conversation by telling me how much he loved me. We bantered back and forth like we have done since we were little kids. I asked about his health and if he was taking care of himself. And like always, he assured me that he has everything under control. And just like always, I knew that he probably didn’t. That he was just taking each and every day, one at a time. His zest and exuberance ignited my own. Everything I have to be thankful for flooded my spirit with a veng...

You could not miss the bruise to Melissa’s face. Her left eye was black and swollen, a harsh contrast to her porcelain complexion. And her porcelain complexion was mottled black, blue, pink and red. She casually milled about the room as if nothing was wrong and those around her pretended not to notice. I don’t pretend and so I asked, others raising an eyebrow at me as if my doing so was catastrophically wrong. But I asked her what happened to her face, already knowing the answer, and knowing that her answer would be a lie. She laughed, fanning a hand in my direction. “ Teeheehee! It was so silly. I can’t believe it happened. I was brushing my hair and dropped the hairbrush and it accidently hit me in the face. Teeheehee! ” I nodded and commented. “Really? It looks like that brush was still attached to your husband’s fist.” The room was suddenly aghast 'cause heaven forbid anyone say outloud what everyone had been thinking to themselves. None of us have seen Melissa since, knowing...

The ABC television show, Primetime: What Would You Do , puts paid actors in scenarios where they create awkward, uncomfortable, and sometimes discriminatory situations to film the genuine reactions of passersby. Watching tonight, one story moved me to tears. One of the actors, dressed as an intoxicated, homeless man, falls to the ground in the middle of a busy sidewalk. As he lay there pretending to be unconscious eighty-eight people walked by, barely giving the man a second glance. And then came, Miss Linda Hamilton. Miss Linda has some age on her. She is black, disabled and also appears to be homeless. Miss Hamilton’s efforts to get help for the man are unsuccessful, the passers-by ignoring her as well. But Miss Hamilton persists. She refuses to leave the man’s side. She gives him a nickname, calling him “Billy”, humanizing the stranger lying on the street. She pleads to people passing by to please call for an ambulance but no one does. Frustration and discouragement are painted all ...

I try not to get caught up reading reviews of my books. And although I may try hard, I sometimes can’t help but want to know what readers have to say about something I’ve written. Most especially when I’m in the midst of a series and trying to finish a sequel to a previous book. It kind of helps to know what readers loved and what they didn’t. My very first book review had the potential to end my writing career before it even started. The reviewer essentially hinted that I might not want to give up my day job. I didn’t, but not because I didn’t think that I could write or be successful at it. I understood from the review that I just needed to bring more to the table if I was going to get it right. Numerous accolades and an award later, I feel like I’m headed in the right direction. Recently I read the following review from a reader who identified herself as “Keepin’ It Real”. She had much to say about my last book, Promises To A Stallion . Her review wasn’t negative but one line struck...

One of my favorite writers/bloggers shared this on his facebook page. It brought to mind some of the comments I've heard lately about Will and Jada Smith's young daughter Willow, and her new song/video - Whip My Hair . A few folks aren't feeling Willow's hairdo, feeling it is clearly a hair don't. Mama Jada let her shave the side of her head and baby girl is rocking her tresses in her own way. I've got mad respect for a nine, about to be ten -year old who doesn't feel any need to conform to what everybody else thinks her hair should look like. It's her style and she rocks it with a level of confidence that some women three, four, even five times her age have never been able to master. On one recent interview both she and her mother commented that "it was just hair". I've boo-hooed my fair share of bad hair experiences here before. Even now, I'm torn between what to do or not do with my hair. It has grown out again, just beginnin...

I have been purposely enacting change for months now. Change in how I handle difficult situations. Change in how I deal with difficult people. Change in my quality of life. Change, whole-heartedly, different from what I have ever known before. It has been like a free fall, exhilarating and damn scary. Then tragedy stuck. It came on the heels of loss. Loss so significant, that I was left to re-evaluate every aspect of my own life. And then I had a light bulb moment, one so monumental that when it hit, it knocked me right off my feet. Life is short. Tomorrow is not promised to us. Which is why making the most out of today is monumentally important. And though it is so easy to say, it is not necessarily easy to accomplish because life will inevitably get in the way. I have a good friend who has invested an unfathomable amount of energy in being angry. Angry at her current situation. Angry at family and friends. Anger so pervasive that it has taken full and complete control over her entire...

GOD'S GARDEN God looked around his garden And found an empty place, He then looked down upon the earth And saw your tired face. He put his arms around you And lifted you to rest. God’s garden must be beautiful He always takes the best. He knew that you were suffering He knew you were in pain. He knew that you would never Get well on earth again. He saw the road was getting rough And the hills were hard to climb. So he closed your weary eyelids And whispered, ‘Peace bethine’. It broke our hearts to lose you But you didn’t go alone, For part of us went with you The day God called you home. Rest in peace, cousin. You will be missed.

I had forgotten what that kind of fear felt like. Then I read this morning’s headlines and I was gripped with panic I had hoped to never experience again. Nine US troops were killed in a helicopter accident in Afghanistan today. Yesterday, a retired military man opened fire on two women at a convenience store at Ft. Bliss in Texas. When my oldest son was deployed to Iraq and then Afghanistan I lived in a constant state of panic. Son-shine flew black hawks for many years and every accident and bombing and loss of life absolutely crippled my spirit. There was always that wave of panic until I heard his voice and knew he was well and then that sense of relief that it was not my child who wouldn’t be coming home. For sixteen years of his military career I tried to prepare myself for the absolute worst, praying for the very best. And with every ounce of bad news that came over the airwaves I experienced fear and panic. My son loved the military. He was a career soldier, Uncle Sam his very b...

Once again, I'm changing hats and shifting my attention to one of my "other" jobs. Near and dear to my heart is the Hattie J. Woody Scholarship Foundation, which I am the executive director of, and so it is with great pleasure that I announce our fall fundraising event. ONE-DOLLAR DONATION DRIVE Please take a moment to visit the Foundation's blogspot and spread the word about what we are trying to accomplish. Everyone associated with the Foundation is extremely appreciative of any and all support gifted to us. We know that without the generous support and endorsement of those who believe in our mission that none of this would be possible. I, personally, am grateful for everyone's encouragement. From the depths of my heart, thank you in advance of the love.

It is an incredibly beautiful Sunday afternoon. My favorite guy and I enjoyed a morning walk and breakfast then renewed our spirits and energy together in prayer and quiet reflection. I am in awe of the many blessings that are continually bestowed upon me. I give thanks for a supportive partner whose wise wisdom and sage advice keep me grounded and assure me of his unconditional love. Together, we are a formidable team and as his hand held mine I knew that there is no challenge that he and I cannot transcend. I am thankful for family and friends whose hearts and spirits move me to tears and laughter. They have come out in full force recently to offer support and advice and to remind me that I do not walk through any dark valley alone. They reminded me just how powerful love can be. I am thankful for my children who are all well and happy. Extremely happy! Their accomplishments move me to tears and it warms my spirit to know that with all they entertain and strive for, the foundation I ...

On occasion, something I write strikes a nerve with someone. One recent post in particular not only struck a reader’s nerve, but practically severed every vessel in her body. Apparently I’d held up a mirror and she saw her reflection gleaning back at her. She didn’t particularly like what she saw. When I consider the post I’m sure others don’t much like what they see in her either. This reader isn’t someone I know well, but for whatever reasons she felt violated as if I’d secreted myself into her life and had somehow managed to unearth every one of her dirty little secrets. With her dirt exposed, she attacked. It was her expectation that I would fall for the okie doke and strike back. But such is not my nature...usually. This person’s antics have put me in somewhat of a predicament. In considering my options I have to consider the impact my actions will have on those I love most. A trusted friend tells me I would be a fool to let her bad behavior go. I ponder whether or not it would be...

Brenda’s having some issues. She’s not happy and everyone else would seem to be her problem. It started back in grade school, Brenda never getting to be the hall monitor. Rude and nasty soon became Brenda’s natural demeanor. Brenda was hell on wheels in high school. The boy’s by passed Brenda for the girl with the brighter eyes, longer hair, and prettier complexion. Brenda didn’t have a clue that her attitude was what actually turned the boys off. Brenda hasn’t been able to hold onto a man since and now she’s bitter. Since Brenda’s not happy, she doesn’t want anyone else to be happy either and so she’s on a mission to see just how much torment she can bring to folks who really don’t give a damn about her and her issues. She’s rude, nasty, and obnoxious to sales clerks and restaurant staff. She tends to be loud and toxic to friends and family. And friends and family have had about all they’re willing to take. Brenda doesn’t see the error of her ways. She doesn’t understand why people ar...

Jena is only fifteen and shouldn’t have a care in the world, but she feels like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders. An unfortunate incident this past week left her feeling completely lost and now she is struggling to regain some semblance of herself. Jena’s first crush rejected her. The two had been friends since forever but boyfriend wasn’t looking to make Jena his girl. So Jena moved on with a boy who gave her attention right up to the moment she gave him some. Her very private moment suddenly became fodder for high school twitterdom, the boy boasting about his conquest to everyone within a mile of a cell phone and keyboard. Surviving that humiliation was bad enough, but Jena did. Twitterdom soon found some other young girl to tear apart. Last week Jena finally found the courage to come out from under the rock she calls a room to socialize with her peers. Heading to the movie theater, Jena wasn’t at all prepared for the barbs and catcalls her former friends blasted ...

So, it was one of those good days. I had no where to go and nothing I absolutely had to do and so I did absolutely nothing. Then I was motivated to cook. I haven’t really cooked in a good long while. Fast food has been my nemesis to say the least. And so I tossed on a pair of sweat pants and one of my well-worn tee shirts and headed to the grocery store. I knew what I wanted to cook, yet I struggled for thirty minutes trying to figure out how to make that meal low-calorie and healthy. After thirty minutes I gave up, figuring there was really no good reason to ruin a good thing, then I headed for the kitchen. The pork chops were pristine. I seasoned those babies up and let them marinat e in the refrigerator for a few hours. Then it was on to the gravy for the baked spaghetti. One large chopped onion, a sliced green pepper, two large jars of stewed tomatoes simmered sweetly, while spaghetti cooked al dente. When all that was done, I layered the two in a baking dish with a pound of grate...

It’s become more and more apparent that when it comes to this space there is no happy medium between the personal and the professional. I am so fed up with having to pull up my big girl panties to keep other people pacified that I imagine if I have to do it one more time, the elastic is going to break and then I’ll really be showing my ass. At best if I compare my personal life to an exotic meal in a five-star restaurant, then my professional posts will simply be reviews of the bread and butter with no mention of the meat, vegetables or the dessert. One would think that if I like the dessert I should be able to say so but I’m suddenly having to bite back my words and hold my tongue and there is simply nothing sweet about that. So, what do I do? I have agonized over my options and then it came to me. I need to do what I do best. If that means tossing back an extra bourbon or two or three, then blasting the beef and lambasting the pie, then so be it. I’ll just drink good bourbon and tip ...

I’ve had two back-to-back, event-filled weekends. One was very different from the other but both were truly great times. Last week I celebrated a friend’s crystal anniversary. The event started early and ended late. Great food, much booze, tons of fun, and a wealth of laughter filled the time in between. I was able to catch up with old friends and made some new acquaintances and felt like quite the social butterfly when all was said and done. This weekend was a family event, a reunion of loved ones coming together to celebrate their past, the present and the promises of the future. It was family I didn’t know and had never met before. The entire weekend was whole-heartedly one of the most spiritually uplifting experiences that I have ever had. Both weekends have left me reflecting on both my personal and professional life. Once again I find myself questioning how best to balance the two, most especially when it comes to my writing and this particular medium. For some time now I have ha...