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

Whew! It’s been one roller coaster month and I think the ride has finally slowed down to a point where I can breathe again. I feel like I wrote two books in two days with barely two minutes to spare. Thankfully it wasn’t that bad but it came close. I did however finish two books, dotting the last "i" and crossing the final "t" just a few days ago. Now I’m going to take a moment to catch up on my reading. I’m behind on my Walter Mosley and I have a few new authors whose works I’m excited to experience. Next week though it’s back to the grind and another two books to finish in two days, but it really won't be that bad. Last night I participated in the 2nd Annual African-American Literary Tea hosted by the Town of Cary, NC. The event coordinator, Ms. Sheila Morris was just an absolute delight, as was the program’s moderator, book reviewer Joey Pinkney . Besides myself, there was two other authors in attendance, Lisa Y. Watson and Dana Sanders Hill . We had the mos...

I am such a sucker for all things cute! May you have a wonderful, happy, much loved Valentine's Day!

One of my all-time favorite reality shows ended their season with a loud thump last night. The Real Housewives of Atlanta have spent the last few weeks showcasing the bitter battles between Nene and Kim, Nene and her husband, and Nene and everyone else who got on Nene’s one good nerve. Nene’s rages have been a bit much over the past two seasons but when you consider that she’s going through a very nasty and public divorce with a husband who is living in her basement, is frustrated by a grown son who isn’t riding the fast track to adulthood, and reinventing herself as a woman and single parent, Nene should be able to rage. Kim has been her usual delusional and narcisstic self and Kandi has been biting back her tongue to keep the peace while she navigates reviving her singing career. Sheree was, well, Sheree. From one season to the next everything about her continues to feel fake, forced and extremely bland. At least this season she wasn’t picking fights in public and pulling off people’...

I go through phases of obsession. Two years ago it was little black dresses. I spent months trying to find the perfect little black dress. Toward that goal I lost count of the number of little black dresses that I purchased. I know that at least two dozen of them are hanging in my closet with the price tags still on them. Then I went through my sweat suit phase. Couldn’t get enough cute sweat suits to bum around the house in. Bought until I was sweat suited out! Now I’m back to a girl’s all-time favorite: shoes! I love me some shoes! And I love shoes that make a statement. Recently I was desperate for the sleekest pair of black, thigh-high boots that I could find. I spent at least three months looking for the most perfect pair and then I found these Christian Louboutin black suede boots that absolutely rocked my obsessive spirit and kicked it back into thigh-high gear. My boots are all that and an extra-large bag of chips. My boots are HOT! and I feel like I am on fire when I'm we...

Earlier today my baby boy received his airborne wings. He officially graduated from Army Jump School. It has been a rigourous three weeks of training that I can only begin to imagine. This go-round he was able to call home more and give more details than with army bootcamp. Although every ounce of it was one big adrenaline rush for him, I know that it was taxing on him both physically and emotionally. Since he started this journey he has had to weather some pretty significant storms. When baby boy was eight years old he was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. I am still haunted by the memory of his tears when he was in pain. The first doctor we saw prescribed cortizone injections for his knees. I refused knowing that at the age of eight, taking cortizone shots, he wouldn't have any knees by the time he reached eighteen. We eventually found a great pediatric rheumatologist to control the pain and swelling of his joints that he frequently experienced. On one particular doct...

A few months back, inspirational author Betsy Otter Thompson sent me a copy of her book Walking Through Illusion and asked if I would give it a read. On my first attempt I failed miserably. Two pages in I realized that Betsy’s book was clearly going to provoke thought and analysis and I needed to be in a more reflective mindset. Recognizing that I was wanting something that was more mind numbing I had to put it down. I plopped it back on my nightstand atop a large stack of books to be read and I paused until the moment I was ready to take in what Betty was offering. With the New Year, I was contemplating my future, reflecting on my life’s purpose, and needing something more substantial to sink my teeth into, so I curled up in my favorite reading space with Betsy’s book. Walking Through Illusion is a series of short stories about biblical people struggling with issues who either knew Jesus or knew of him and were influenced by him in one way or another. . Each chapter is themed and foc...

They say we have snow coming. Family and friends to the north of us will get far more than we will, but it’s predicted that we will get more than our fair share of ice and fluffy stuff. I am not winter friendly. Cold and I do not get along. Snow is my least favorite thing. However, if it must come, I hope that it comes in abundance. I want to see mile high drifts that shut down the state for an extended period of time. I want to be stuck in the house with my favorite guy doing absolutely nothing until the mood moves us. I do not want to worry about traveling in hazardous conditions, navigating icy patches, or shoveling one darn thing. If I can have all of this, then by golly, let it snow! If not, then let the bad weather pass us completely by. And let summer get here quick.

As 2010 fizzled out and 2011 landed with a resounding THUD!, I was reminded of one very important life lesson: When you allow someone else to be responsible for your good time, you can't complain when you don't have one. Jack Daniels, an old favorite, saved my midnight hour this year. I'm sure I won't like him half as much in the morning. Sitting in reflection, I had to take a quick moment and check myself. A life lesson I've most recently learned: You get back what you invest. And that applies to a shitty attitude, so I worked ten-fold to improve my own. Then I revisted my favorite tidbits of advice and felt they were well worth repeating for the New Year. So, as you rid yourself of last year's haunts and pour over your New Year's resolutions, remember that each new day is an opportunity for a new beginning. If you didn't get it right the first time, then do better the second, and if necessary, the third time. May the New Year fulfill all of our dreams ...

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...