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DRIBBLE

I haven’t been able to complete a single thought in weeks. There’s been so much running through my head that it’s been next to impossible to sort through it. I’ll simply say the devil continues to stay busy. But you know how I do. The bits and pieces become dribble and dribble eventually becomes a post. So here goes.  If you are now out here doing interviews and posting about Sean “P-Diddy” Combs and what you saw or what you knew, then you deserve to be in the same cell with him. If you were witness to his alleged depravity and you did absolutely nothing to protect or help his victims when it was happening, then you, too, should rot in hell. You giving up information now, doesn’t make you a hero. It only proves how despicable you truly are. Historically, women have been saving the world since the beginning of time. There are those who don’t know that because the men who mucked things up have taken extreme measures to keep that history from the world. It makes them look bad and they can
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Recent posts

GOOD PEOPLE

I love to see young people doing well. This past weekend Big Daddy and I met a young man who is making a name for himself in the real estate game.  He is a licensed broker and I instantly fell head over heels. He was respectful, engaging, knowledgeable and from start to finish he made his granny, and  this  granny, proud.  His name is Tye Williams and Tye was hosting an Open House. The upscale home was in a neighborhood that has never been known for being upscale, but gentrification is quickly changing the landscape. We talked everything from home design to politics and back. He had strong opinions and a solid moral character and I would not hesitate to recommend him to anyone in the market for a home. Tye made such an impression that I knew I would write a blog about him before I got out the door. That’s saying a lot since I haven’t blogged in months. Well, actually a whole year! Life has had me in a head lock since my father died and Mom became my responsibility. But being able to co
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WHEN SHE'S DEAD...

Every time she says I can do something when she’s dead, I am tempted to ask if she can die sooner than later because the list of what I cannot do now is growing by leaps and bounds. You can take that painting down when I die. Until then, leave it. When I die you can move those chairs, until then, let them stay. You can clear away that stuff when I’m dead. Just leave it for now. I don't want to take that trip but you can go when I'm dead. Don’t move these things here. You can toss them all into the trash when I’m gone. God understands so I don’t feel but so bad for the thoughts that sometimes run through my head. I’m especially mindful though not to say them out loud. But I cannot make her understand that we are still here, and our choices should not be dependent on what a dead man once wanted for himself. But celebrating the here and now is suddenly foreign to her. When my father died, she too stopped living. It has taken the patience of Job to keep her pushing forward w
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PATIENCE...

My beloved father was recently referred to hospice. So we brought him home to die. No one prepares you for the waiting. They generalize the expectations because everyone’s experience in hospice is different. But no one tells you that waking every morning, wondering if today will be your loved one’s last day, is emotionally and physically debilitating. They don't tell you that sleep is difficult because you're afraid to not be there when they need you. Patience has never been one of my virtues. Rushing through those things I can control is my norm. But no one wants to rush death. And waiting for it, knowing it will inevitably invade your happy place but not knowing exactly when, is brutal. Since the decision was made, each day has gotten harder. Daddy’s needs change with each passing hour. The caregiver responsibilities must sometimes change on a dime. And patience is often the divide between success and failure when you must wait, uncertain what will come, and what you must r
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THE TRUTH...

The truth never had a chance here. Let me say that again. The truth never had a chance here. That statement, made by attorney Ralph E. Fernandez, about the death of 40-year-old Tamla Horsford, a black Forsyth County woman and mother of six who died during a largely all-white, adult slumber party in 2018, has always felt like a sliver of glass shoved into my heart. The case surrounding Horsford’s death was compromised by conflicting witness statements, a tampered crime scene, mishandled evidence and “unheard of” absence of autopsy photos.  The medical examiner’s report stated Horsford had severe injuries to her head, neck, and torso. There were cuts to her face, wrist, hand, and lower legs. Horsford also had a “laceration to the right ventricle” of her heart. Investigators claim Horsford fell about fourteen feet from the back porch of the home and died on impact. Her death was classified as an accident. Others who reviewed the case state her injuries were “consistent” with be
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DRIBBLINGS...

I’ve decided that I need to revive my random thoughts segment. There’s so much going on and sometimes just a random thought about a subject is fitting. Y’all might remember how this works. Every so often a thought will cross my mind but never quite make it into a full-blown post. I call them DRIBBLINGS, just haphazard, trivial stuff that passes through my thoughts. And so, I DRIBBLE! A father in Louisville boarded a public-school bus to verbally assault a child. (Video HERE .) He says it was out of character for him, but that his daughter has been bullied and because the school has taken no action, he’d been pushed to his limits when allegedly his daughter was smacked by another little girl. NO! In fact, HELL NO! I’m not buying that bullshit. He showed his true colors. No grown ass man would even consider calling a child a bitch and think that’s okay. No father of a daughter would be okay doing this unless he has absolutely no respect for women in general. He called that little girl
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DIVAS ON MY BOOKSHELF: FARRAH ROCHON

USA Today Bestselling author Farrah Rochon has been on my bookshelf since her New York Sabers series. It was one of the first romance series that made me doubt my own writing. Because Farrah Rochon can tell a story like no one’s business. She’s also one of those authors who is on point with every detail surrounding her books. From the creative idea to publication and marketing she doesn’t miss a single beat. Her writing is her business and I’ve learned much from her. Farrah has taken plotting a story to a level that still mystifies me. I was not a student who passed her class and I’ve taken her plotting workshop a few times. She is that good and I still don’t come close! Farrah has been such an inspiration. She continually challenges all of us in this literary game to write better, promote smarter, and put only our very best on the table. She sets a higher standard with each and every book she writes, pulling us up and over that bar along with her. Those of us who admire her may go
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