My New Favorite Recipe

First, let me say that while I think about blogging every single day, I only ever come over to do it when I feel a deep need to. It is RARE that I come out of the fog of my mind to actually write a blog post, particularly when I'm unmotivated -- which I'm SERIOUSLY experiencing right now.  But the other day, I ran across a recipe that I decided to try out in my efforts to eat better and shake this last bit of random bullshit weight, and I HAD to come blog about it. I can't stop thinking about it.

Any of you who know me know how much I love and truly adore cilantro. I eat it in my sleep, which makes me dream about it. I take it to church with me. (I'm kidding. I don't go to church.) I bathe myself with it, then wrap it up in my Snuggie with me on chilly Sunday evenings while I watch the Redskins get pummeled in football. As *SOON* as I saw this recipe, I knew it'd be the very next one I would try.

This is the pic that Clean Eating Magazine posted in the recipe online, and of course, I forgot to take a picture of how it came out....but that has less to do with my memory and more to do with the fact that I C.R.U.S.H.E.D the entire fuckin' pan of it. I mean, there was nothing left in the pan: not a garlic mince, not a cilantro stem, not a red pepper flake. Nothing.Demolished. Finito.

Here's the recipe:

INGREDIENTS:

• 2 cups fresh cilantro
• 1 tsp dried oregano
• 3 cloves garlic 
• 1 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 2 1/2 tbsp red wine vinegar
•  Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper, to taste
• 8 oz whole-wheat rotini pasta
• 20 medium raw shrimp, peeled and deveined 

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Preheat broiler to high. Line a large baking sheet with foil.
2. Prepare sauce: In the bowl of a food processor, pulse cilantro, oregano, garlic and red pepper flakes until combined. While food processor is running, add oil and vinegar. Stir in salt and black pepper. Set aside.
3. Cook pasta according to package directions. Set aside.
4. Arrange shrimp on sheet; transfer to oven and broil for 3 to 5 minutes, turning once, until pink. 
5. In a large saucepan on medium, add pasta and garlic-cilantro mixture and cook, stirring often, for 1 minute. Reduce heat to medium-low, add shrimp and stir to combine. 

 And for those of you counting calories, like me, here's the nutrition deets:

Nutrients per serving: Calories: 420, Total Fat: 23 g, Sat. Fat: 3 g, Monounsaturated Fat: 14 g, Polyunsaturated Fat: 2 g, Carbs: 38 g, Fiber: 9 g, Sugars: 3 g, Protein: 15 g, Sodium: 95 mg, Cholesterol: 45 mg


I added bite-sized chunks of chicken to it because it didn't look like it would be enough upon initial inspection. The chicken really filled it out nicely and made it more of a meal for those of us who scoff at shrimp dishes, looking them up and down like they're short. It came out SO GOOD! Plus, I added onions because, well, I love onions almost as much as I love cilantro. The onions rounded out the flavors and made it onion-y like I like my food, lol, and the red wine vinegar brought everything together.

My sister walked past the pan as I was making it, peeping over my shoulder all nosey, side eying me because I was eating it straight outta the pan (#don'tjudgeme). She's allergic to shrimp (poor thing. But I'm allergic to crabs so I guess we both miss out. Thanks Mother Nature. #bitch) so she couldn't have any, which didn't bother me none at all cuz I was eating the first batch standing over the pan watching the rest of it simmer. *smh* I guess even big girls who eat clean still eat like fat girls, huh?

Don't tell nobody.


Here's the link again, if you want it:

Garlic-Cilantro Shrimp Rotini

Oh, and if you make it, take pics and send them to me so I can drool over them and be reminded to make another pot of this crack/cocaine.


<3 p="p">BD

Deep in Thought

As you may have noticed, I haven't posted since Whitney Houston's passing. I had to take a hiatus and get some things right in my mind. Aside from occasionally posting on FB, I've been ghost for the past few months. Obviously I didn't know her personally, but I was a huge fan of her music and her passing really effected me in a huge way. I began analyzing--in a way that I hadn't before--what I really wanted, where I really wanted to go, and what I was willing to do to get there. It's one thing to know what you want and what you need to do to get it; it's a whole other thing to REALIZE what that thing is and what it will cost you to do it. I had to really ask myself what I was doing, AND WHY. Also, what was I NOT doing...and i had to really analyze why not.

I know some folks think I'm too analytical, and sometimes, they're right. I make no apologies for that. I'm a deep thinker, and I think it's one of the things I love most about me. I'm not really a surface dweller, I can't stand shallow relationships, and I don't really play well with folks who only want to talk about the weather. I like to really dissect things, both physically and mentally. I have a deep burning desire to know the 'whys' and 'hows' of life; thankfully, as I grow and mature, I'm learnning to ask the right questions vs just a lot of dumb ass questions. LOL! AND, more importantly for me, I'm more able to accept the idiosyncrasies of my personality and embrace them as part of what makes me multidimensional. I still have more questions than answers, but honestly, the death of a person whose genius I admired so much really forced me to sit down and find more answers in myself.

Today is Thursday, May 3, 2012. It's been almost 3 months, and I still think about it almost every day. I would hate to choose a path for my life that leads to destruction, or abuse, or an untimely death. She had talent, she had money, she had family, she had love...but it was not enough.

Well, WTF else is there? How do I avoid the same fate? Where did she go wrong, and where can I make a different choice? Here I was, thinking all I needed to do to be successful in life was to make it big: be talented, network and make connections, get my money right, and have good family around me. These were the things I'd set out to do, thinking shit would be all good after that. Naive? Perhaps. But I had come up with a whole plan to do just that, had rearranged my entire life around those few goals...and BAM. Someone who already had all those things went and offed herself with a combination of drugs and drowning in bath water.

All these questions--and tons more--ran through my head for weeks, months. Whitney had demons just like any of us. ANY OF US could be her. I am talented and, after so many years of feeling depressed and powerless, I FINALLY have enough confidence and self esteem to embrace the things I'm gifted at. I have the love and support of my family and good friends. (In fact, my mom just walked in the room and announced "if you hear a strange gurgling noise coming from the bathroom, its me. I'm on a colon cleanse this week." o_O [Thanks Mom. That's just great.] Any of you who know of my relationship with my mother understand why, despite it's vulgarity and general ratchetness, that comment represents a closeness we now enjoy that we never used to have.) Ive finally learned to sit and listen, to be patient, to release the need to control every single situation that comes my way. I'm finally seeing a therapist that I absolutely love (and can afford) and am taking baby steps to reclaiming power in areas of my life I previously thought would be lost to me forever.

But is it enough?

I've finally outgrown that icky phase of self-consciousness where I look around and it seems like everybody around me is getting it right except me. I now know that they prefer concealing their struggles whereas I tend to wear mine on my sleeve. All this work I'm doing to live a more authentic and meaningful life, is it really gonna pay off for me? Or will I eventually fall victim to my demons as so many others have? It may sound irrational, but for me, it's really scary. I really want to do big, grand things with my life (even though I'm old now) and that may one day include fame. Will I be overtaken by the fame monster and succumb to drug addiction and pressure? And if I don't become some big, grand person, will I be okay with just being a good person? Are the things I fight for, strive for, aspire to do really what I want to spend the next 10 years working towards? The sacrifice, the work, the change, the adjustments, the constant transition, and at times, the OPPOSITION I know I will face as I continue to ascend. Is it really worth it? Could I throw it all away and just be what I consider a regular person? Or, scale it down and live a little smaller, with smaller ideas and gestures? AND If i did do that, would I really be okay with that? Would I feel like a sell-out? like I gave up?

SN: My mom works two jobs, the second of which keeps her out until 10pm each night. Right now, she's home from her first job and getting ready to head out to the second. From the hallway, I just heard a deep sigh, followed by "LAWD! Back to this cage AGAIN! Please, Lawd, help me."

*blank stare*

I cannot. I will not. That ^^^^ is why I fight to make sure all the things I love doing, I will get to do for the rest of my life. I refuse to spend my days doing something that I refer to as 'a cage'. But, AGAIN, what if it happens, and it's not enough to give me the joy I'm seeking?

This is what happens when you watch too much Oprah's Lifeclass. LOL.

I'll get back to posting regularly again soon. Alot of times, when I'm in my head like this, I think no one else wants to read about it so I go into hibernation and won't post for months. Everyone likes the funny stories, or the bizarre tales of dating woes, but when I get too deep (especially in blogging) I feel like people tune out. LOL! Which is fine. That just means I go off and process in silence and blogger doesn't see me for a while. I'm not a pro blogger. Not even close. I don't even really promote my blog the way most people do. in the world of blogospheres, I'm just a tiny sea urchin. I'm finally okay with that, too. Some asshat once told me that since my blog is clearly JUST for me, I should get an online diary instead. After I put down my middle e-finger, I got right back onto blogger.com and kept right on posting. I prefer an audience, even if it's only 1 or 2 people who never comment (but, to be clear, comments are WORSHIPPED AND ADORED around here :-).) My best friend works in child care so alot of times, when I want to talk or tell a story, she's not free to just pick up the phone and listen until after all her kids leave. Plus, she has the worst memory in all the world so sometimes I'll tell her something and she'll be like "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT!" when really, I did. So, blogging is a way for me to tell the story as long as I want to, to my little heart's content, and to document the things that happen in my life, in case she forgets and needs to go back and read it again. I try to include every single detail.

I'm a storyteller, that's what I do.

R.I.P. Whitney: My Top 10 Favorite Whitney Houston songs

This is how I will always remember Whitney, no matter what: killin it.

Damn Nippy.


On the way home about 3 hours ago, I scrolled through my playlist looking for somethin ol' school to ride to. Y'all know I've been looking for inspiration lately, so when I scrolled past "One Moment in Time", I IMMEDIATELY pressed play. This was the live version that she sang at the 1988 Summer Olympics. I always prefer Whitney's live music to her studio tracks, which, for a singer, says THE MOST. I listened to that song on repeat for about 20 minutes just because. Little did I know that while I was singing along--at the TIP top of my lungs, of course--in my car, somewhere on the west coast, Whitney's dead body was being discovered and reported on by national news media. My sister, The Spazz, texted me complaining about the snowy crazy wind blowing then right after that I got "Whitney Houston died??!!" It was obviously a question she was trying to confirm so I hit up FB and, sho' nuff, all the "RIP Whitney"s confirmed it for me. Even my mom was shocked, and she don't give a shit about NAYTHIN. She did, however, take that opportunity to point out how fat Bobby Brown has gotten lately.

Oh mom.

The story is still developing so we don't have many details about the who's, what's, when's, or why's (though as you can probably guess, there's a shitload of speculation about drugs floating around) but for right now, all we know is that our beloved Nippy--as she was affectionately known amongst family and friends but known to the world as simply 'The Voice'--has left the building. For the last and final time.

*bows head in sadness and respect*

Seeing as how this is a tribute post, I won't waste a lot of time discussing her struggle with addiction or her tumultuous 15 year marriage to the singer formerly known as Bobby Brown. We all remember watching helplessly as her voice went from the most recognizable, most infamous of staccatos to a raspy, broken, almost unrecognizable shell of it's former self. Agreed? Aight. 

What I WOULD like to do, in commemoration, is list some of my favorite Whitney songs. I won't even numerate the list, because there'll DEFINITELY probably be more than 10. Ah hell, I'm gettin depressed just thinking about it; let's just get to the list: 

1. Greatest Love of All
Without a shadow of any sort of doubt, this is my #1 all time, above all others, 'dis dat shit right here!' Whitney Houston song. This song, literally, introduced me to music. As far back as I can remember, this is the first song I ever remember hearing on the radio, and singing along with. Released in 1985, when I was just 5 years old myself, Greatest Love of All was that song that made me RUN to find a hairbrush and a mirror. You could not TELL me I wasn't Whitney Houston when I sang this song! It was hard as SHAT for me to hold that last long-ass note "Find your strength innn looooooooo-oooooo-oooooo-ooooo (pause for breath)ooooo-ooooooove". For weeks after the first time I heard it, I daydreamed about being a singer like Whitney, wearing that glowing white dress like she did in the video, and walking off-stage into the arms of my proudly waiting mother; for weeks, I struggled to hit that last note without pausing for breath. The first time I sang it and held it all the way through without pausing, I KNEW I WAS THE SHIT. And it was all because of Whitney Houston.



2. I Wanna Dance With Somebody
For all y'all that hate on Beyonce' for wearing blond weave, let me take a moment to remind all of you bastids that she was certainly not the first to rock big curly blond weaves and wigs. This video was so much fun!! Y'all know I have an unbelievable obsession with big curly hair and bright colors (I am, after all, a child of the 80s) so this video was my heaven. That electric guitar intro got me up off my bed every time the song or video came on, and I was sho' nuff boppin my lil head around my room, hairbrush in hand, with my tank top that I ran to put on during the opening instrumental. I would always make it to the mirror--tank top and hair totally askew--just in time to hit that first verse: "Clock strikes upon the hour/And the sun begins to faaaade...". God I love Whitney. *smh*   


3. All the Man That I Need
I always felt like this was her "Stand By Your Man" song, a rebuttal to those who misunderstood her love for Bobby.  She spent a lot of time defending her marriage to him, especially in the later years, but I was secretly proud that Whitney wouldn't be bullied into giving up on her choice to love a man that most people demonized. 

4. I'm Your Baby Tonight
This song I loved because it was my first real time seeing Whitney do choreographed dancing. I know alot of ppl don't know this about me but deep inside, I truly feel I was born to sing and dance. I love everything about singing and dancing. Unfortunately, God did not bless me with the pipes for singing, and thought so kindly as to give me two left feet instead. Any performer who can sing and dance, both really well, gets my vote because they have gifts that I only dream about. hence, my love for all things Beyonce'. Well, except her acting. But, I digress. I'm Your Baby Tonight was the video where she wore all white and danced with that white suit on, then she changed into the black turtleneck catsuit, then 3 of her were doing the Supremes glamour girls routine with the beehives!!! You talkin bout somebody HYPE!! Yassss Gahd Nippy! 

5. You Give Good Love
"I found out what I've been missing, always on the run/I've been looking for someone/Nooooow you're here like you've been BEfore and you know just whaaaat I nneeeeeed/It took some time for me to seeeeeeeeee/That you give good love to me--BAYYYYYBEH! it's so good, take this heart of mine into your hands/You give good love to me/Its neeeeevahhh to muuuuu---uuuu-uuuch!/Baybeh you give good love..." Yeah. Nuff said.

6. Where Do Broken Hearts Go?
I knew nothing about this song when it first came out. I didn't discover it until I had a break up with a boyfriend in high school. I KNOW I played this song on repeat for at least 2-3 weeks, everyday. This was back when I ignorantly thought that the songs musicians sang were all written by them. It gave me a sense of comfort and camaraderie to know that Whitney had had her heart broken too, and had no clue what to do about it.


7. I Have Nothing
Back when my parents couldn't afford premium cable, and refused to pay for pay per view, when I scrolled through the channels and landed on one of the pay per view channels, I could hear the movie being played but couldn't see it through the squiggly lines. That's how I learned all the words to Menace II Society and, later, The Bodyguard. Everyday I would come home from school, turn to the guide channel to see which channel The Bodyguard was playing on, and post up on that channel. For hours on end, I would do my homework and listen to this movie play over and over. When I got older and finally saw the movie, this song--not I Will Always Love You--instantly became my favorite. Well, this one and Whitney's short but still powerful version of Jesus Loves Me. Again, I sang this song at the very top of my lungs. One day, I gave my best 3 renditions of it in the shower and when I got to the bridge where she sings "Dooooon't Maaaaaake Me *screams* CLOOOOOSE onemoredooooor! Idon'twannahuuuuurt anymooooore!", my dad stormed into the bathroom and screamed "Fool! If you don't stop all dat damn holl'in like somebody's dog that just got hit by a car, you betta! Now you sing one more word if ya WANT to, and see what happens...." and slammed the door shut.
Well. Hmph.

8. Bridge Over Troubled Waters + Count on Me

In 1995, Whitney and long-time best friend CeCe Winans performed Bridge Over Troubled Waters on Vh1's Honors awards show. This performance  was the first time we were seeing Whitney begin to lose weight, sweat like crazy, and catch the Holy Ghost on TV. Remember Whitney always had that upper lip sweat that she never really wiped during her performances? Well, there was alot of that during this show. Count on Me was a song me and my then-best friend Renata would sing along to--and to each other when we got bored--from the movie "Waiting to Exhale". We would always fight over who would sing Whitney's parts because, let's face it, CeCe was just OK compared to Whitney's vocals. (LOL! Don't judge us! We were 15, we didn't know any better. Today, I would KILL to sound like anything closely resembling CeCe Winans.) There's another song, a gospel one "Give Us This Day" that she performed during that show; I found links to them on youtube and downloaded them to my music player. I listen to it ALL.THE.TIME. Whitney got her MAN on that one! (<------When's the last time you heard somebody say THAT?? Lawd, am I starting to show my age already??!!)
If you have never seen it, here's the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGL099t8i2s.

9. When You Believe
Her first duet with Mariah Carey, I first saw this song performed on the Oprah Winfrey Show and it blew me away. I've always been a sucker for a great inspirational song (and a great sad love song) and even though I never saw the movie from which soundtrack this was taken, I instantly fell in love. It was featured on both their #1s albums, respectively, so when someone stole my Whitney Houston #1s album, I wore out Mariah's CD playing this song. It'll definitely show up in the tribute playlist I know I'll be playing over the next few weeks.

10. How Will I Know
Anyone who knew me as a child knows that I was insanely boy crazy in general in my youth, and this song was pretty much my anthem. There was always a boy that I crushed on on any given day of the week. I couldn't help it, they were all so cute! In third grade, it was Sean Turnage; in fifth grade, LaTrone Lawson; in 7th grade, dear Gawd, I was a fool for Kelvin Wesley Jackson. "How Will I Know" got played in HEAVY rotation whenever I got that ol' familiar fluttering of butterflies in my stomach at the very mention of my secret crush. Let's just say I played it A LOT and leave it at that. Once, during a clandestine after-my-9pm-bedtime-so-I-gotta-whisper-real-low phone call with said Mr. Jackson, I subtly played this song in the background, trying to throw shade hints that I really wanted to know if my love was requited. At one point he asked "What's that music in the background??" I QUICKLY snatched my boom box (HA!!) button over to "off" to kill the music. Sadly, that love was never meant to be. *deep sigh* See song #6.



Obviously, there won't ever be another like Whitney. They just don't make 'em like that anymore, not even my beloved Beyonce'. Jeevus, I can't even IMAGINE how distraught I'll be if that day ever comes (yes, I said 'if'. I cannot even consider the idea that Beyonce 'will' die. I'm holding out hope that she'll somehow beat the odds. #dontjudgeme) but today, I'm deeply saddened by the loss of our Nippy. Man, this sucks!! Nobody will ever do that jump-y hoppy, hand on my hip, lift my leg up, cock my head to the side, talk while i'm singin', somehow manage to turn EVERY song into a holy ghost filled performance thing that you did, Whitney. We will always love you for that.

I posted the same link to the Vh1 Honors performance on my FB page, with this message:

       "I simply can't help but to shed tears. This is my all time favorite live performance from Whitney Houston; I post it all the time. When it became clear she would never sound like this again, I was deeply saddened. I simply can't imagine having such a gift and losing it. She wasn't perfect, but man could she move you with her voice. Y'all know I love Beyonce, but no one did it like Whitney. Future generations will never know about this sort of real SANGIN, never have the chance to see it performed live, never attend one of her concerts. And that makes me sad too. Magic like this just doesn't happen anymore. So anointed, so blessed, so tormented. I will always love you, Whitney, not because you sang the song of that title, but because you always brought it, and left your whole heart on the stage for us. I was so looking forward to your comeback, but I guess God has other plans. I'm glad that God has you now, wrapped in His love and protective wings where nothing on Earth can hurt you ever again. The Voice was such a revelation to music, and an enormous gift to the world. Yours are gigantic musical footsteps to follow in, and I will certainly do my part to keep your music alive."




Y'all please keep Bobbi Kristina, Bobby Brown, Cissy, Dionne, RayJ and Brandy, that whole family lifted in deep prayer. This is just a damn mess.

R.I.P. 

Whitney The Voice Houston

                                                

                                              1963-2012

Skee Ba Doo Bop Bahhh

*That's me scatting, in case you ain't know*

I'm so disgusted with my music lists these days. I honestly think that has more to do with my general disgust and ennui for music in 2012. I mean, really, I'm just over most of it. Most of the music on my player is old and i really feel like I'm missing out on some great tunes by being lost in the past.

So what's the beef?

What are y'all listening to these days? I know there must be SUMTHIN that's gotcha head boppin at your cubicle.

Can I get a clue?

The hair I'm drooling over right now

Dear Sy Smith,

wherefore art thouest mane of glory so fabulous?? It doth dazzle me. *le sigh*

I found this over on Grown Folks Music and I can't stop thinking about it. 

Everything about this photo is LIFE: The hair, the glasses, the jewelry, the perky tatas, that 'I Know I'm All The Shit' fierce ass attitude that the naked eye cant see but those of us who have that same eyebrow can see.

Yass GAHD!!!

I WILL find this hair. And I just may wear it all year. Bwahahaha! Who am I tryna fool?? I can barely keep a sew-in for two straight weeks!! But a girl can dream, can't she. Damn, stop hatin! But no, seriously, I do know that she's a natural goddess and that most, if not all, of this is her real hair. But I'm still gonna look for something as close to this as I can find; y'all know I got the Chinese Connection! Wish me luck!!

Themes or Templates anyone?

Alright folks, i need your help. I've been puttering around blogger lately and I'm seeing some pretty cool themes. I'm thinking about changing mine but I have yet to find anything that screams "BeautifulDae, this is YOU!!"

Where should I look for feminine girly themes? No hearts, no flowers, yet colorful and abstract. Y'all know I'm in search of inspiration so I'm open to any ideas at this point.

Also, once I find a theme, will it be okay to install it and not lose my posts? I think i read somewhere that changing your template erases all your posts which, actually, would suck big giant monkey balls.

Anyway, whatcha got?

Today I Wanted to Slap the Sh*t Outta My Mama

I know that a lot of y'all are foodies and have very diverse tastes so I'm sure I'll get a multitude of different answers to this question:

Have you ever, in your life, tasted a cake that was so unexpectedly decadent, so rich and moist, so heavenly that it seriously made you think 2 or 3 times about doing a seek-n-find mission to find yo' mama and slap the f*ck outta her for not making cake this good? Well, up until Wednesday, i hadn't either.
. 

Anyway, so the other day I'm strolling through Regency Mall when I wander through the food court. Since I haven't lived in Richmond in forever, I had no idea how it had changed. There's a little shop right beside Baskin Robbins that had some cute little cupcakes on display. Now, initially, i won't lie: i was looking for ice cream and just happened to run up on this bake shop first. I was NOT looking for cupcakes that day. In fact, I think I'm the only person, especially in DC, who never really got on the cupcake bandwagon. I just never saw what the big deal was.

On top of the display case was a picture I'd seen before:

Poised on the cover of Life & Style magazine with Niecy Nash is one of my childhood classmates, Raina (Taylor) Washington, owner of Sweet Kakes & Co, a 5 star custom cake boutique. I hadn't seen Raina since high school so I had no idea she had a bakery. I knew she'd gotten into cake making and decorating but I had no idea she'd blown up as a baker! I had to try one. 

The display case at this darling little bake shop was filled with beautifully decorated cupcakes in all colors and flavors but what jumped out at me first was the Strawberry on Strawberry cakes:

They were so pretty in the case but the idea of all that strawberry was a bit intimidating, so I went for something a bit more simple: Vanilla with white butter cream frosting and candy sprinkles.

Yeah, it sounds plain and boring but HUNNNY! When I TELL YOU that I bit into that little pocket of confection divinity, I stumbled for about 2 steps, looked around wild-eyed like I'd just been hit in the back of the head with a flash light, and promptly took the first seat I could find. Before I bit into it, my plan had been to enjoy my cupcake while wandering through the mall aimlessly since i had time to kill. I won't lie: I wasn't expecting much. to me, it was just another cupcake. Uhhh, ACTUALLY, NO ma'am. I parked it right in front of Charlotte Russe and proceeded to devour the entire thing in about 3.7 seconds. Towards the end of it, it began to morph into an ooey gooey combination of moist deliciousness that melted in my hands and had me licking all down between my fingers, smearing frosting all up onto my cheek. *smh* It was a happy, happy mess in the middle of the damn mall. I think my eyes rolled back in my head, my nostrils flared, and I was breathing a lot heavier than I was supposed to.

Oh, it was absolutely that serious. 

I *think* I saw Raina's mom in the back, baking, while paying at the cash register so the first thought I had IMMEDIATELY after was "damn, this cupcake makes me wanna slap my mama!" was 'Man, now I wanna slap HER damn mama! Did she make this??!!" (Raina, if you're reading this, I'm TOTALLY kidding!!!! LOL! You know I luvvvv yo mama! *Don't tell her I said that though. No, really. I'm serious. Don't tell her.*) I don't even really know if it was her mom I saw, I just know it was someone who looks just like Raina...and this lady did.

Run--DON'T WALK--to her website (www.sweetkakesandcompany.com) the next time you, yo' mama, yo' bestie's mama, my mama, or Jim Jones' mama needs a cake for anything. Wedding cakes, birthday cakes, cupcakes, cake pops, 'I just broke up with my raggedy boyfriend/girlfriend' cupcakes, 'I just got a new job in this recession' sheet cake...well, you get it. It's all sortsa fabulous deliciousness. She specializes in custom cakes a la The Cake Boss (no, really,  on her FB page there's a nurse's uniform cake) so I promise y'all, she's the real deal.

Congratulations Raina my dear, I wish you much continued success! I don't know what kinda crack cocaine you put into your cake, but I gotta stay away! It's gonna be a struggle, but I'ma have to. If I get addicted to your cupcakes, any remnants of this sexy voluptuousness I call my body is gonna pay the ultimate price! Cupcake belly is NOT a good look for my annual spring trip to Miami!


Tell EVVVVerybody you know!

Everything I Doooo...

*singing* I dooo it for youuuuu....

For the past few days, I've been really, well, uninspired. Usually whenever I'm feeling blah or unmotivated, it's because I'm really stressed out about something: work, money, Isayah, love, money, school, makeup, money....you know, the usuals. So yesterday when I found myself kinda drifting off into strange clouds, the first thing I thought was "Oooo, what's bothering me?? What's stressing me??" But there was...nothing. I just had a great birthday, school is TOUGH but I'm doing well (I'm really making an effort to stay on top of everything. 5 classes ONLINE--3 12-week, 1 8-week, and 1 16-week course--is A LOT), I've been drinking water a lot more so I'm dropping weight by the week, I'm feeling less and less lonely, not even really thinking about dating, and I'm really making peace with my parental situation (as much as can be expected).

So, what's missing?

I thought about it all day yesterday and today and I realized: I don't have anything that's just for me.
Everything I do has a bottom line. Makeup...is work. Editing...work. Writing....work. School...is for school right now, technically, but eventually, that'll be for work too. Even organizing when I'm at my parents' is for them, not me. There's almost nothing that I do for the simple pleasure of doing it, except eating. That is the one thing that I do constantly, just because of how good it makes me feel. Which, depending on who you ask, isn't exactly the move.

What do you have that's just for you?

Do you read? Write? Sing? Volunteer? Paint your nails? Play dress up and take pictures of yourself? *gasp!* Maybe you put flowers in your hair and sing into a hairbrush in the mirror like Anna Mae did in the bathroom scene of "What's love Got to Do With It"??! No? You sure?? Hmph.

Well don't feel bad, neither do I. I can't tell you the last time I read a book just because I felt like reading a good book. Most of the books I've made time to read have been textbooks or self-help books. Yeah. I know. *deep sigh* I always fantasize about dancing, but I never do it consistently. I'll take a few classes here and there but something always interferes and I don't go back. It seems so easy to just say "well, silly, go dance then!" But, uh, no. I think subconsciously I would feel too guilty for doing something enjoyable when I'm not even working full time. Its the idea of work hard first, play hard later but you shouldn't play if you're not working, right? IDK where that idea comes from but it's something I've always had.

Now that I'm a full time student and have less financial responsibilities (read that carefully: LESS, not NO), I'm freelancing part time and have a lot of free time some time on my hands. When I'm not doing school work--which I do for about 8-9 hours a day--I do actually have the option of doing something I'd enjoy. And I gotta tell y'all, I have NO IDEA what to do with myself. My girlfriend told me that this is my time to heal from the trauma of the past year, and to do some soul searching. She said it's clear that its just time for me to just...be. Be still. Be whatever it is that I am today. Do nothing more than I'm already doing. but that just seems so...lazy. Idle. Unambitious. I feel a self-imposed guilt trip right in my very near future.....

Last year was a doozy. School was tough, I lost my apartment to bed bugs, I lost two people whom I called friends, I found a great job and later lost that too. Losing Isayah (LOL) the way I did was extremely traumatic. I had my heart broken. A lot. By a man, by a woman, by some friends, by Isayah. At the end of last year/beginning of January this year, I felt (and looked) very much like Nala after Simba pushed her in the water on The Lion King; something along the lines of this:

Yep. That was me the first week of January. So much loss, so much pain, so clueless about how to repair everything that was broken.

Can I just say LE SIGH. Soul searching sounds so...quiet...and...like it's gonna hurt. Do i really have to do all this digging to find inspiration? To find my mojo? To find something that's just for me? Really?

Ugh.

Well FINE.

Hmph.

Now...about this soul searching business. Where to even start? What do you guys do when you search your soul? What EXACTLY are you looking for when you strap on your lighted hard hats, fashionable Chanel goggles, and pink polka dot all-weather boots?


Help a Sista out.

Throwback post from my 30th year 2010

My favorite most favoritest most beloved season officially begins on Thursday! That's right ladies, Autumn is upon us and I, for one, could not be happier!!! *squeals of delight*

A crisp cool chill is in night air. Kids are back in school. There's jackets and boots and red lips everywhere!! I mean, seriously, how could anyone not love the loveliness of autumn. Pretty soon the leaves will begin to change, I'll begin ordering pumps, booties, and tall boots along with big hair and dark(er) makeup. *sighs dreamily*
it's truly paradise. So, of course I've been all over the Internet, scouring site after site in search of fall wardrobe pieces, and I'm practically drooling (literally) over this year's trends. As many of you know, i'm way more into hair, makeup, and accessories than I am clothes (and especially shoes because trying to find comfy yet sexy shoes for these Fred Flintstones feet is the hassle of my life) but I promised myself I would bust out of my comfort zone and find great clothes that fit well and look great on me. It's hard because I'm a tweenie (one whose body size/shape floats in that gray area between Misses and Women's...12/14/16 depending on the designer) which makes it almost impossible to shop online. I constantly go back and forth between "lose more weight/gain more weight/just forget it and shop". Either way, shopping is a hassle so previously, i avoided it. NOT THIS YEAR!! Autumn is my favorite fashion season and I WILL take advantage of it this year. Besides, it's my 30th year still and I'm determined to do 30 right, ya dig?

I haven't quite decided if I wanna go with a sexier more sophisticated dresses/heels/accessories a la Serena Van der Woodsen (can you tell I'm a GG addict??) look, an "I'm a chic unruffled Makeup Artist/Business Woman/MILF look, or a cool "i'm way too cool to be so pressed" casual look.  I think a combo of the first two mostly, maybe the latter when I'm out running errands in my free time during off days. The great thing about freelancing is that I can shop whenever I make time for it, and don't have to rush to squeeze it in after 6 before 9 or spend a whole Saturday trying to put together an outfit when i could use that time for photo shoots and fashion shows. This way, I can take my time, go to different stores/sites and put together a whole wardrobe at my leisure. I'm REALLY feelin' the SVDW look. Now, it IS possible that I've been watching entirely too much Gossip Girl; I freely admit that. HOWEVER, isn't that what good TV is for, for you to steal fashion ideas and tips and tricks for your own life? That's what I thought. :-)

Complete and Total Randomization

Just watched an episode of Braxton Family Values, the one where Trina and Gabe separate. Can I say I LOVED Trina's hair in this episode!!? Towanda is my favorite character, followed closely by Toni, but Trina is the one who, I think, has the best hair. Towanda's makeup is always EVERYTHING but her hair sometimes gives me the blues.

Speaking of giving me the damn blues, I made a bad choice when I decided to wear this straight/wavy hair in the dead of winter. My scalp is dry so it's itching like Jim Jones' ball sac the dickens but with straight hair, I have to do my braids much closer together than i do with curly hair so it will lie flat. And I can't get down into it to scratch it like I want, and before y'all ghetto asses say 'Girl, just get a pen and dig in it!" GOODBYE. I JUST finished this sew-in 7 days ago, but it's bout to come out this weekend and I'm trading it for big wild curls so I can do the braids looser and get to my scalp without looking like Damon Wayans in "Blankman".

I read an article about Viola Davis the other day and she made me think about Kevin Hart. I ABSOLUTELY adore Kevin Hart as a comedian, but more than that, i love his story. Just like Viola Davis, he's been around for a while. Been in the game for a long time, but he's just now starting to get his breaks to pay off. I can only imagine how much tenacity it takes to keep going at it day after day without the seemingly instant payoff that some celebrities seem to have. But they stuck to it, they put in their time, and they are finally getting the credit and recognition they deserve. Jeah!!!

I know this is completely unrelated and left field, even for me and my rambles, but can I just tell you how I'm laughing at my dad right now. A few weeks ago, he bought a new space heater and put it in the hallway. His bedroom is directly across from the heater. Every time I see him in the bedroom, he's bundled up so tight because it's STILL so cold. I swear he's swaddled like little 6lb 5oz Baby Jesus lying oh-so-sweetly in the manger. He's angry with the heater for not heating the whole house, particularly his bedroom. He truly doesn't understand why the SPACE HEATER isn't putting out enough heat in this wide open space to heat 2 large rooms. -__- One day, he got so angry, he yelled for me to pack it back up so he could send 'that piece of shit' back since it wasn't worth nothing. *snickering* Really Dad? Really? You mad at the space heater for not heating more than...the...space...in..front..of the...heater? Yeah. Aight. You go head with that, Dad. *smh*


Do you watch Ghost Whisperer? My best friend is OBSESSED with that show and has me hooked, even though it's gone off the air. We just watch the old episodes now. Because I'm a maniacal insomniac, and Ghost Whisperer comes on on repeat all night on WE, I watch it every night. I must confess to you: I drool over JLH. her makeup, her big hair, her fkn cleavage, that WARDROBE. I.WANT.IT.ALL!!! I'm headed over to google her and see what she's been up to.


Maybe this is part of my "soul searching"....?


later gators!



BD

Its My Burfdayyy!!!

Every year around January 1, I start planning my birthday celebration. While others are trying to figure out how they'll trick themselves into believing they'll last more than 17 days on New Year's Resolutions, I'm searching retail sites, pouring over restaurant menus and Yelp reviews, and grinding my teeth in utter frustration at the STILL RAMPANT lack of killer stilettos in sold in wide widths. And, as many of you know, I also spend that time scouring hair sites to score some flawless birthday hair that I can swing like a drag queen at a Cher concert. Yes Gawd!! I send out emails, make phone calls, make reservations, and do my best to quiet that small churning in the pit of my stomach that always inevitably surfaces around birthday planning time. Would anyone show up?

See, I'm one of those that used to thrive on the approval of others--sad but true. I'm not 'shamed to tell you--and I secretly used my birthday as the day of obligatory approval and kindness. This is a day when everyone has to be nice to me. LOL! (of course, now, I know better than to think that but for a long time I did) And because I used to call a LOT of toxic people 'friend', that was the one day when, even if your level of emotional toxicity was higher than Keyshia Cole's mama Frankie, I could expect at least a kind word or two on my birthday. They HAD to approve of everything I did and give me what I wanted. So, I'd make all these plans, make a huge fuss about the partying we would all do, and set myself up to receive all the happy birthday wishes and the--again--obligatory kindness and niceties that I just KNEW would be flowing like Rose' on my birthday. Annnnd, no. Just no. Sometimes, yeah...but for the most part? Naw. Didn't go down that way.

I never had birthday parties as a child, and if I did have one, I certainly don't remember it. No one made a big deal about birthdays around my house, so I always had to overcompensate and remind myself how special I was on my birthday. There's nothing worse for a little girl than to wake up on birthday morning and discover that her Daddy doesn't even know why today is supposed to be special...for EVERYONE. So, I made it my personal mission to make sure to remind everyone in the most subtle (read: passive aggressive) ways I could that my birthday is on the horizon. Especially my dad. LOL! My close friends would do nice things and none of my friends ever forgot my birthday, which made me very very happy. But, I didn't get my first birthday cake until i turned 24 (Thanks Reina!) or have my first party til I turned 25. I spent most of the birthdays of my early 20's with my son's father and the most we ever did was go out to dinner and a movie. I wasn't ready to admit it at the time, but my secret wish was for everyone that I loved to care enough to come together--on their own--and celebrate my birthday; I needed it to be as special to them as it was to me. Unfortunately, back then, I kept alot of my personal relationships compartmentalized so I had, like, 4 separate groups of friends, who were ALL kept separate from the people I dated. How in the world I ever thought they would come together is beyond me. *smh*

Anyway, as I said, as I got older, I would make plans and invite folks to come out and celebrate with me. And everyone would completely validate me and say 'yeah, girl, we comin'! We gon' do it up!!" but then on the day of...'oooh, girl, sorry. Something came up last minute. Not gonna make it." or "Sorry, I gotta work" or the now-famous "Alandria! It's too COLD to do any partying this time of year!! But happy birthday, though!" It didn't help that, for the past 3 or 4 years, Mother Nature has seen fit to sprinkle cold white fairy dust all over the DC metro area in January and February. It also doesn't help that, from the moment i discovered what the NFL actually was, the SuperBowl is ALWAYS my birthday's direct competition for attention. My birthday weekend is ALWAYS the same as super bowl weekend (in 2006, they were the same day). I was so damn happy that my ex, Christian, wasn't into football I didn't know what to do! After spending most of my early years with a guy who was DEDICATED to the sport of football in so many ways, and having to share the air of celebration which I thought should've been dedicated to my birthday (hmmm, attention whore much, Alandria?) with the second most important day of the entire football season (the first being NFL Draft Day), I longed for someone who wouldn't schedule my birthday weekend plans around "anytime before Sunday at 6pm".

-___-

Each year since I turned 26 (a birthday I spent in LA auditioning to be an extra in the movie Dreamgirls) I've had less and less people show up for my birthday celebration. Last year was so pitiful, I wanted to escape into the bathroom and just cry my eyes out. Or, a friend from one group wouldn't show up because they knew someone from another of my group of friends would be there.. THAT'S how I came to the decision to celebrate my birthday all month long. LOL! I'd love to tell you that I, genius that I am, brainstormed the coolest of all cool ideas--that is, to celebrate my birthday for the entire month instead of just that one day--because i'm just, well, a genius. MmmmNo. Because all my relationships were so compartmentalized, none of my friends or boyfriends really liked to share party time with me. So, i spent my birthday DAY by myself, the night with whoever my boyfriend was at that time (gotta get that 'Don't Ever Let Yo Mama Find Out You Did That Nasty Sh*t birthday sex in chile. Betch, you BETTA get it in!), and over the course of the 4 weekends in February, celebrating with my friends and family....separately.

The one time that came close was my 28th birthday. A childhood friend had said that she really wanted to spend my birthday with me. Ok, cool. We'd been out of touch for a long time because she still lived in Richmond, and I didn't visit much. I had already planned this party, ordered a dress, and sent out the invites so I invited her to come stay for the weekend. And so began the nightmare.

The night before, my hair appointment was cancelled. I received an email that my party dress could NOT be delivered on time, as promised by Nordstrom. I don't remember what happened to the shoes I'd planned to wear, but I suddenly couldn't wear them and now needed to find new shoes...for a dress that I wasn't even sure would arrive in time for my dinner party. Le sigh. My rescheduled-for-early-the-next-morning hair appointment, the stylist left me hanging so I would have to do my own SEW-IN weave MYSELF, that day.  My friend arrived the next morning at which point i informed her that we would need to do all this last minute running around. she seemed okay with it and I thought 'hey, this'll be a great time for us to catch up before the party.'

Fast forward to 4pm. We've spent the entire morning talking and laughing. The dress arrived just after 10am (thank God!) and we spent the day combing Pentagon City mall looking for shoes. Every shoe store this side of the MD state line, we tried it. But my Fred Flintstones--my affectionately named size 10W feet--simply didn't agree with any of the shoes we tried on. Not a single pair. She was tired and cranky, I was panicking and frustrated. But I kept thinking 'this is my birthday dammit! I'ma make this shit special if it kills me!!' (LOL!) My reluctance to leave the mall without even a 'maybe' pair of shoes kept us there way too long and, on the way home, we had to stop at Marshalls to use the restroom. On our way out, I just happened to swing by the shoe section and, lo and behold, I found them. I found my birthday shoes hiding in the size 7 section behind some ugly black kitten-heeled granny boots. AND they were only $39.99! #score! I tried them on and instantly that they wouldn't last the whole night without torturing my feet, but they would have to do. She was whining about missing her nap time, we were both hungry, I STILL had to do my hair, and I was getting emails and phone calls left and right from folks asking for last minute party details, or cancelling. I could tell that she wasn't used to my particular brand of chaos and drama, and that she may be feeling a bit perturbed. I, on the other hand, was completely in my element. I finally finished my hair, called the cab, and began to dress. As we were finishing up, she noticed a Vaseline stain on her dress (she uses it as her body moisturizer) and immediately flew into a raging panic. Of course, the stain showed up brightly on her bright green dress so, reluctantly, she threw on a blazer to cover it. That stain would be the stain that would ruin my birthday party.
The reservations were for 8pm...but the cab didn't show up until 8:15. I changed the reservations to 8:45. We arrived just after 9, and I think only 1 other person from our party was there. I'd invited at least 15 people but, as we waited for our table, one by one they began emailing or texting to cancel. The restaurant refused to seat us until at least half of our party arrived, so I had to keep changing the number of folks expected in our party. 15 became 12 became 10 became 6. Finally, one other person called to say she was right around the corner looking for parking, so they seated us. She never showed; I guess she never found parking. Reina was having trouble with her debit card working at an ATM so she arrived really late, which I didn't care about, but for a second, I thought she wouldn't make it either.
There ended up being 4 of us total. While waiting for Reina to arrive, we ordered drinks. She arrived just before the drinks did and, as the waiter listened to her drink order, he was also setting my friend's drink down in front of her. At the very same moment, Jesus decided that this particular birthday would not only serve as a time of celebration, but a time of endurance also. The waiter mistakenly set the glass down on the edge of her plate and, unsteady, it fell right on over. In her lap. All over her green dress. Yep, that same one with the Vaseline stain that she'd JUST finished being salty about. i thought we would have to restrain her from knocking him the hell out. She kept mumbling to herself "dont punch him, don't punch him, don't punch him...". We all got that she was blown about the dress, but it was a martini: nothing but Vodka. As soon as it dried, she'd be back in business cuz it would dry clear! But nope. She sat in that seat, scowling, wet and salty until her dress dried; then she was dry and salty. And still scowling. She didn't speak to any of us, she didn't dance, she didn't smile. She looked around at everything but us. At one point, she turned her back on the table to watch the people on the dance floor, refusing to speak. The other girls at the table were texting me discreetly, asking what her problem was. When I asked her, she lamented about the stain and then the drink and said she was ready to go. Now. I told her that, of course, I couldn't leave my own party but she wasn't hearing it. She was ret ta GO.

I was so upset, but refused to show it. I was appreciative that the few that had made it out, had taken the time to do so when so many others had flaked out on me, and I refused to let that be in vain by pouting over someone else's bad attitude. I couldn't believe she was being such an ass on my birthday. Didn't she know my birthday was all about ME, not HER??!! Hmph! The NERVE.

2009 was a hard year for me, and so was my 29th birthday. The year I turned 30, 2010, DC was covered in a blizzard the entire month of January and I knew there was no way anyone would come out to do anything for my birthday. By this time, i had a few new friends. One of my best friends' birthday is exactly 2 weeks after mine so she understood my pain when it came to birthdays. The snow was entirely too high to go out and do much on the day of my 30th birthday so I spent half of it at work, and the other half at home, thanking the Lord that I'd made it to see 30. There's something about turning 30 that changes your perspective. It was a milestone for sure. The next night, we were both drowning in cabin fever so as soon as the roads were clear, she called me with the escape plan. We partied SO HARD that night! And I partied with my other friends again that weekend! Totally unplanned and totally what a 30th birthday should be like.

Last year...eh, fuggedaboudit. Only 1 person showed up for my actual party. LOL! Bless her heart. She was one of the few who had always shown up for my birthday, and I will always be grateful to her for that. We don't speak anymore so I am pretty sure I won't spend anymore birthdays with her.

This year, I deliberately said I'm not planning anything. It's caused me a small amount of anxiety, lol, but i refuse. I didn't pick out or order a dress, no shoes, no reservations, nothing. I did do my hair, but that's about it. I told my best friend she could decide everything, all I would do is show up. I didn't invite anyone else. We have the most fun when we're out together anyway so *shrug* it makes sense. Errybody know how I love to eat (lol, shuddup) so I knew we would go to dinner somewhere but besides that, it's wide open. As long as there's music, and laughter, and cute guys (werk!) I don't even care what we do.

My dad forgot about my birthday again. *smh* *chuckling* If I don't accomplish anything else this year, I will learn acceptance. it is the only thing I wish for and resolve to do. I will learn to accept myself, to accept others, and to allow others to accept me as I am, right where I stand. So, it's okay that my dad forgot my birthday; he still loves me and he shows me every day in his own...twisted and dysfunctional...sorta way. That's just who he is, he forgets everyone's birthday. LOL. And that's alright too.

I told a friend this morning "I would've liked to not be short on cash on my birthday, but what I lack in cash today, God has made up for in love and support. I'm girded and surrounded by people who love me, are kind and patient with me, support me in word and in deed, and I have all I need and most of what I want so I dare not complain. I have less material wealth today than I think I ever did, and this is turning out to be my happiest of birthdays. God is so good, even when I didn't know how He would use a tragic situation and use it towards my future good." <---------- that's a true story.  

Anyways, I can't WAIT to show you guys pictures of the foolishness we get into tonight! I'm interested to see what I come up with to wear but I already know it's gon' be a BURNA! The weather has been nice all week--unseasonably warm--most of my homework is done already, and I'm headed into a great birthday weekend with some folks who are really making the fuss over me that I've always wanted. Funny how that didn't happen until I stopped needing it. :-)

I will see you all on the other side of 32!

BeautifulDae <3

 

Hmmm..what to wear, what to wear?

As usual, it's almost my birthday, I want to wear a bangin ass dress...and haven't got a clue which one to actually buy. *smh* Will I ever learn??

Here are some of my favorites:

Dear Amber Riley:
 
I simply adore you in this dress. Will you take it off so I can wear it for my birthday party? Please and thank you. Great.







Another favorite (from Torrid) that I've been drooling over since, like, November:

Then I found this one on the Igigi site:

Monif C has amazing dresses that I'd love to try but, quite frankly, my money ain't there yet. Not $300 for a damn birthday dress that I'ma wear once. No ma'am. Nuh uh. ShutItDown. buuuut, you know what I have been DYING to do, secretly?? These!!:

Yasssss Hunty! I'm so serious about these gloves!! Oh, and lets not forget these droolers:

I saw this fly beyotch on MadisonPlus a few weeks ago, and this heffa showed up in one of my dreams a few nights ago. in the dream, I was chasing her down a dark alley trying to take the dress off her in public:

Biiiitch, YASSSS! You BETTA werk in dat bodyglide ass green dress! I want that dress so bad!! That shat is layed like FIRST CLASS WHORE!!

-____-

Shit just got real. Cuz I probably won't be wearing NOT NA'N ONE of these dresses. *smh sadly*

What do you guys think? should I try for a dress last minute, or chalk it up to jeans and cute top?

Happy February!

One of my goals for the past few years has been to blog consistently. I was very hesitant to even get into blogging initially because, well, i'm pretty long-winded and blogging didn't seem to be the platform for that. After much discussion with my inner self, I decided to jump right into it. And immediately stepped on the brake. Whoa! What had I gotten myself into?? Uh, HELLO??!!!

Because most people know me as a makeup artist, naturally, everyone encouraged me to become a beauty blogger. The problem with that was always this: I'm not le product whore. Working makeup artists don't buy new products as often as makeup enthusiasts do, so alot of the FOTD that I did were using the same products over and over. That's what I did for clients, it's what i did for myself. Soon enough, i began to feel self conscious that I was employing enough variety in my makeup looks...so I stopped blogging. It went from being something fun that i looked forward to to being a chore that I had to constantly find new material for. it was a damn full time job!! I had NOT signed up for all that! Days, weeks, months went by and i found myself writing online but not in this blog. There were other issues and things I wanted to discuss that weren't makeup-related, so i made up, like, 5 other blogs just to talk about the things I wanted to talk about. And you guessed it, after about 2 weeks, I was wanting to erase the word blog from the English language. I couldn't figure out how other bloggers did it. Was i really supposed to talk about makeup and nothing else?? I ain't got it. And I wasn't gon' get it, either.

I was mad. LOL! At who, I don't really know but, yeah, I was hella salty that i couldn't combine all my thoughts into one blog. I had so much to say and alot of the times, most of it had absolutely nothing to do with makeup. Arrrgh!!! I.was.pissed! So finally, I abandoned my poor little blog. Each day, i would write posts in my head and promise myself to add them to my other blogs, but it never happened. I was too damn mad to write, lol. The makeup posts would come every now and then, when i was really in the mood but otherwise, eh. #pass. #fail. Eventually, I got tired of managing 4 different blogs, and tried to find a way to combine them. That didn't really work either, so I just shut the other ones down and opted to focus solely on this one. Then hell broke loose in my life and my last thought was "uh, blog who??" O_o

*scratches head*

It is now February 2, the day before my birthday, and I have a lot more free time to blog than I did way back when. Still don't have a lot of new makeup, lol, but I've decided that that don't e'em matter. I'ma just blog about what I want to blog about anyway, even if I'm the only one who reads it. *big cheesy grin* Jeah, cuz I goes HARD like dat in the paint!

(Not really. I'm just tired of having to manage so many separate blogs.)

Once I figure out hot to import all the other ones into this one, we'll be back in the sack!



Later gators! (i do have a lot more to say, but it's 3:04am which means it's time to blow this Popsicle stand)

B.D.

I Remember when...

This semester, I'm studying African American Literature, which means I'm reading a lot of slave narratives and pre-Civil War African American literature. For an upcoming assignment, I have to listen to various interviews conducted with former slaves, recorded during the early 1900's. The audio is barely audible because of all the static and the low quality of the equipment, and most of the interviewees have tremendously thick accents and poor English so it's hard to understand them. Nevertheless, my interest has been piqued by just listening to the voices of former slaves from the area where my grandmother lived/where my mom (and later myself) grew up, down in Norlina/Warrenton, NC right across the VA/NC state line. 

Reading some of the online stories and listening to the interviews brought back so many memories from my childhood. The land on which my grandmother's house now sits--like so much of the land in that area--was owned by the Perkins family. The Perkins' owned a plantation (a bit further up the road) that was tended entirely by blacks/slaves, and later, by freed slaves, including my great-great and my great grandmother. My (paternal) great grandmother AnnaLee Scott worked as a maid on that plantation, and it is where I spent each and every summer of my youth until 9th grade. It is also where my maternal grandmother would later meet and fall in love with my grandfather (the son of my great grandmother).  Hearing the former slaves interviewed and telling their stories of picking cotton, tobacco, cooking in the fireplace because there was no stove, riding on the back of horse-drawn carts through the damn fields in the HOT ASS NC sun...it all brings back memories. I, too, picked cotton and tobacco, tended the animals, rode tractors, rode on the back of horse-drawn carts, and cleaned the Big House alongside my great grandmother. Of course, at that age, i had no idea what it was; I just knew that everyone in my family had worked for Ellen and Ann Perkins at some point so that's what I had to do too.

We had no running water so all our water came from our well. Remember the well from The Ring? Yep. We had that, from which we drew water for everything. We had no bathroom or kitchen sink. We had no stove. We did have electricity but the TV was black and white and cable wasn't available in my grandmother's area yet, so shut that down. Like the former slave discusses in her interview, we cooked our food and heated the house with the same wood burning oven in the middle of the dining room floor, just like the one in The Color Purple. In fact, one of my most hated chores was chopping wood. I finally figured out a way to suck at it so my grandfather told me to just stop doing it. (Bwahahaha!) We hunted for a lot of our food, though it's important to note that that wasn't entirely necessary; my family was just a bunch of gun-totin' carnivores. *shrug* I learned to shoot a rifle before I got my first pimple. I spent far more time than I care to recount chasing chickens, bandaging blisters from cotton-picking (damn seeds are sharp!), and cleaning the innards of animals and fish. Oh, and shelling vegetables and canning preserves. Back then, we didn't have plumbing so we used chamber pots as our relief. But when they would get full, the whole house would STANK to the high heavens, and need to be emptied. It was my job (of course) to take the pot down to the outhouse and empty it. And let me tell you, if you ever wanna see me bitch-made, take me to my grandmother's house and tell me to go to the outhouse at night. It was the country; there was no light except the ONE light pole that lit the path to the outhouse. Only problem was, the path of the light stopped waaaay before the outhouse. So, between the light and the outhouse was just...darkness. I only got there because i had the way memorized. AND it sat right under a big ass oak tree. There was a pig pen on the right side of the path, the outhouse to the left...so sometimes, you could hear the pigs making weird noises at night. Sometimes, though, they slept and made no noise...and would wake up screaming into the night as I walked by on the gravel and leaves, startled by the noise.  I killed many a snake during the day, but when night time came, it was far too dark to see any snakes slithering by. The other thing that terrified me was toads. They would camouflage themselves in the dirt in the garden so when I picked vegetables, I would reach down and the 'dirt' would hop up on my arms. At night, I couldn't see them until I walked into the stream of light on the path, but I could feel them hopping on my feet. The first time that happened, I dropped the pot in the middle of the path and ran screaming and crying back up to the house; I got a beating--with a switch--the next morning when my grandfather walked down the path and saw the huge pile of crap and yellowed toilet paper on the ground. I learned not to drop the pot after that night. From then on, I would just walk fast and cry to myself whenever I had to go out at night, trying to watch

My great grandmother wasn't born into slavery, but her parents were. She was raised with her mother--who worked on that same plantation--and she never knew her father. She could often be heard humming old hymns quietly to herself, her worn, withered face unsmiling. She rarely smiled, but she did tell me about her own childhood on that same plantation when I was little, every day as we cleaned the House. Her mother was freed but, unlike lots of other freedmen and women, opted to continue working at the Perkins'. She told me it was all she'd ever known, that she'd grown up there, and, from as far back as I can remember, it's all I ever remember her doing. She never went to school and could barely read or write; she'd learned much later in life the basics of writing but was well versed in the books of the Bible. She never worked anywhere else, or did anything else. We would arrive at the Perkins' each morning with the sun, and leave just before dark each evening, as she did throughout her life. On Sundays, she went to church, and that was it. She lived to be 94 (she died in 1988) and she worked in Ann Perkins' kitchen until her body simply wouldn't allow her to leave her home anymore. She lived out her last days in a small trailer on a tiny plot of land that she, too, never owned.

My (maternal) grandmother Martha also worked for Ann and Ellen Perkins, but because she was more the outdoors type, she worked in the fields. That's how she ended up meeting Joseph, my grandfather. He too worked at the Perkins estate and courted her--as any upstanding Southern gentleman should--until they married in the early 1950's. They were 'gifted' with the house as a wedding gift provided they tended the land--for free--for the Perkins'. The house sits on about 5 acres of Perkins land, acres of cotton, corn, and tobacco as far as the eyes could see. She never paid a dime for the house or taxes for the property, but every summer, we picked cotton, corn, and tobacco. Across the street, and behind the house, were gardens with rows and rows and rows of vegetables, fruit, and grains...you name it, it was growing in that damn garden. Next to the backyard garden was a huge tobacco shed where, after it was picked, it had to be stripped, processed, and cured. I spent so many hours cooped up in that shed smelling nothing but sweat, tobacco, and more sweat. And feet. *gag* I think that may be another subconscious reason why I hate cigarettes, lol (besides the other obvious reasons to hate smoking). 


Ann Perkins, the daughter of the duo, suffered an injury as a child and grew up paralyzed.  She could never leave a room without help: each morning she was carried in, placed in her favorite chair facing outside (so she could see all the comings and goings), and she sat in that room all day and watched TV on CBS from sun up to sun down. I was allowed to come inside at 11 to watch 'The Price is Right' each morning, and then to watch the news at 6 each evening; I had to get back to my chores immediately after. Ann was a kind, soft-spoken woman who rewarded me with peach ice cream on the sweltering days that I braved the heat on the second floor to dust The Doll Room. Servants were not allowed on the second floor except to carry her up and down the stairs, or to clean. Ann was a collector of dolls, new and antiques, as well as cats. She was the classic Cat Lady, with well over 20 cats living in the house and 20 more on the grounds outside. It was my job to dust the dolls in the doll room (which was stupid to me because no one was ever allowed to play with them so they never moved...but there was, admittedly, dust on them every now and again) and to collect the cats when they got stuck in a room or it was feeding time. A lot of times, i would spend that cleaning time pretending I was a princess who could afford to wear dresses and jewelry as lavish as those the dolls wore. They were my only real friends at that house, even though their blinking eyes creeped me the hell out, and my great grandmother always admonished me to never, ever touch any of them other than to dust them to perfection, lest I break or damage one that I couldn't afford to replace.

It was at that plantation house that I learned to fish, ride bulls (LOL), rope cattle, herd animals, and to stitch wounds (I never EVER wore shoes as a child and once, not paying attention while running from an angry pig, I stepped on a wooden plank with a rusty nail protruding through the top. She made me stitch it up myself as a lesson to pay closer attention next time, lol *you gon' learn today!*). It was also there that I was first exposed to the difference between light black skin and dark black skin. As a fairer child, I received more allowances and privileges than was typical for the servant staff. I was the only child allowed inside the Big House to watch TV; I was the only child allowed to work beside her relative, as most of the other maids had children that had to work outdoors all day. Most of the other children were boys, and were darker, and so weren't allowed inside. Ever, not even to use the bathroom. Most of the servants and their families used the outhouse anyway so it was expected of the children to use it too. I do remember using the bathroom inside, but only the one downstairs, NEVER the one that the Perkins' used upstairs. There were a few other little girls but I didn't play with them because they were mean to me; besides, I was a tomboy who played with the boys and the animals and never sat still long enough to do whatever it was they were doing. LOL. I was always in trouble for being somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. *smh* Very few servants were allowed in the house at all, namely my great grandmother, my grandmother, the young maid (whose name I keep remembering as Bet) who did the grocery shopping, and the foreman, Palmer, whenever he needed to bring in reports of whatever was going on outside.  Palmer lived on the property in one of the little old cabins which, I later discovered, served as slave quarters way back when.

One day, during one of my can't-sit-my-little-ass-still adventures, I came upon an old dilapidated barn. It looked like someone had set it on fire but the fire had been caught before it could burn to the ground. I remember it being really tall, like the tobacco sheds, and having a chain and lock on the doors. Of course, I broke some of the slats on the door and squeezed my lil hind parts in. It was pitch black inside except for what little light shown through the one window all the way at the top. There seemed to be a million birds flying around above, and there was bird crap all over the dirt floor. it smelled AWFUL. Before I could even get to look around, there was a loud banging on the door and I got called out. Palmer snatched me out of that barn so fast I couldn't see straight. He told me to never go back in there, that it had been locked for a reason and I needed to stop being so damn nosey. I gave him the full court press about why I wasn't allowed to go in there when I was allowed to go everywhere else on the grounds. It took a while but he finally, in exasperation, told me the story of how that barn used to be where slaves were taken to be whipped and hung. Said his father told him stories about it that had been told to him by his father, that everybody knew about it and that's why they all avoided it. He said he'd never actually seen anyone killed or whipped there, but he believed the stories 100% and didn't want me to get my hide whipped for snooping around. Yeah, i didn't bother to go back to that barn. Like, ever again.

There was very much a residual slave mentality on the property.  The older servants, including my great grandmother, even referred to (the deceased) Mr. Perkins as 'Massa Perkins'. I never met him and people rarely spoke of him so i didn't know much about him--and when they did, it was in very hushed tones.

My great grandmother always stressed to me the importance of putting God first, working diligently, staying out of trouble, and most importantly, keeping my head down and my mouth shut around White folks. (Clearly, she saw that I would have issues with this later in life) I think I annoyed her with all the questions of a precocious, curious child and more often than not, that got me smacked in the mouth on the REGULAR. LOL. Unlike my grandmother, my great grandmother thought it better to be unseen and unheard by White people and preferred to be left alone to quietly do her work in solitude. After she died, my grandmother began working at the House to recoup the loss of one maid. My grandmother was a tomboy firecracker who didn't bite her tongue for NOBODY and was all over the place, all the damn time. At one point, my grandmother got another job at a yarn factory and left the Perkins estate. When Ellen Perkins got sick, on her deathbed she requested that my grandmother be the one to care for her daughter Ann in her absence. So, after she would leave her full time job at the factory at 7 am, she would pick me up and I would spend my mornings with my grandmother running errands, cooking and cleaning, and entertaining Ann Perkins. By this time I was a teenager and would soon cease to spend my summers in the blazing heat of the NC country. 

I hear her voice in the voices of the women interviewed, and can see her face as clearly as if she sat right beside me today.  I can hear it in their songs, in how they tell their stories, talk about their parents and neighbors, how they seem to lace God and religion into every answer. Aside from the monotony and gloom clearly evident in their voices, it's clear how heavily they relied on God and faith to endure any given day. They spoke of life before the war, life after the war, hard life on the plantation...and though not all of them were from VA or NC, God is the one thing they all share in common. And any one of them could have been my great grandma, God rest her soul.

BD