no fire

So, I was walking around on the roof of a school today, realizing that the reason that I'm so short is probably b/c I am afraid of heights. Being up there wasn't the problem...the ladder propped up there was the problem. And then when I asked a janitor where the basement was, he kindly pointed me in the direction of a crawl space. I took one look at the piping and realized that in order for me to find what I was looking for, I would have to slither around on my back with this small flash light (probably in my mouth). Hell to the naw. I told buddy that he could close that accessway right on up, b/c I wasn't going in. One rat or the litter of some creature decides to crawl on top of me and this school is getting to' down! And this is when I realized...this is certainly not my calling. I don't normally play the prissy role, but I am too cute to have my head all buried in, I'm trying to hold on to my bun for the next 2 days before I relax my hair this weekend and I refuse to look like "who shot John" tomorrow and Friday.

I was doing this site visit with Jesse's friend, (let's call him) John. When we were having lunch, this dude kept randomly bringing him up, so I could gauge from the conversation that he didn't know that Jesse and I briefly dated. John was talking about wanting a girlfriend but his track record was a lot worse than mine. And as we were discussing the qualities that one should look for in a mate, he started talkin' 'bout how Jesse constantly goes out and meets women in bars. I immediately started to feel nauseous. He went on to describe the kind of women that Jesse dates and the whole time I'm thinking, "Can he see just how uncomfortable I am?" "These women sound nothing like me." "And since they aren't anything like me, why was he playing the stalker role at work?" (That particular story is not even worth rehashing here b/c...well, just because.) That convo really didn't help my rooftop and crawl space experience as far as assessing my passion for my job.

Change of subject...

My boy, Navy, bought our tickets for this play that we're going to see in DC. Now, this all came about b/c Mack emailed me and told me that he will be in DC up until the beginning of April. And when I found out that he was in a play, I thought that it would be a good idea to go and see him live and in person. Since my January trip to NY didn't work out, this was as good of a time as any to be reunited. But uh...why is this dude playing me like a groupie?! All he does is email me; yet, he insinuated that I could stay the night with him when I got up there. I called up Navy and told him that I am so put off by men and their expectations. I worked out my "crashing" arrangements with Navy and then emailed Mack back and told him my plans and if he wanted to hang, then he'd have to call me. This dude emails me back and says that I should hit him up backstage after the show.

God, I just don't understand. Maybe he has gotten too famous for me and actually picking up the phone to call lil ole me is beneath him. Maybe between now and January, he scored a girlfriend. Who knows? And at this point, I don't even care...not even enough to b*tch about it via email. I have really gone soft on the email arguing and lately, I have been so short on my emails with people that I don't know if they truly know where my head is at. I have no fire for foolishness...and I don't give a hot damn who you are. But I know one thing, I plan to be on my A-game that night. Navy and I may do some clubbin' with his friends after the show, since one of his boy's birthday is the day before. I may see Mack and then again, I may not...but SOMEBODY is going to wonder why my fly a$$ is walkin' around unattached.

And considering the state of my relationships with the men that are hovering over the border of my life, unattached is just fine by me.

mini-camera dump

So, I have been curiously staring at these things for a while...

I back in and pull out of my driveway amazed at the fact that these beauties are growing in the trash (otherwise referred to as my lawn - or lack thereof). I don't know...they make me kinda...happy. I get so discouraged every time I look at my lack of curb appeal. When I bought my house, I was just happy to NOT see wood panelling, soiled carpet w/dogs running amuck, and wallpaper. I didn't care so much about the 50 million trees, but the upside is that I don't have to pay anyone to cut my grass. I gots nothing. I didn't realize how jacked up my sidewalk was until 2 months after I had moved. Oh the things that one can do with gravel and pavers...cover up huge monstrosities that could've easily been subtracted from the purchase price. Anyways, Choir Boy offered to help me with my yard again this summer...we'll see where that goes, if it goes anywhere at all. I got 5 bux on the fact that I'll probably be looking at the same mess again next winter, that is, if I don't scrounge up some money to get this forest cut down fast. In the meantime, I'll enjoy my 10 flowers. They may look kinda crazy, but they remind me that everything is not as bad as it seems.

What's wrong with this picture? Another adventure with the boy picking out his own clothes. I think that I'm raising another I must say, he got creativity honest. He has been without TV for about 3 weeks now and the pressure may be getting to him. At first, it was punishment but now, I allow him to have a few hours of it over the weekend. The original goal was to have him to take his homework as seriously as he does Ha.rry and wrestling. I'm not sure of where I'm going with this. He DID learn not to use the word "bored" with me, b/c once I finished making a list of what he could do, he decided to hurry and pick up a book rather than suffer the consequences. I'm forcing him to use his imagination more...ya know, all of that stuff that games and TV rob our kids of. The downside is that he's in my face from the time we get home from work and school until he falls asleep. The upside is that I'm just enjoying the time that I spend with him reading these books that he got from the book fair, "The Adven.tures of Cap.tain Under.pants"...those are some funny a$$ books.

I hate that this picture is so small and fuzzy, but I just HAD to capture Goth Girl's "domin.atrix" rubber ducky. I was in the middle of a tour of her house when I spotted him on the corner of her humongous tub. Mayne, I was so tickled. Her and I are different but alike in many ways and I just LOVE her. Sadly, she'll leave me this year to move to Cali to pursue other career interests. I told her that I was happy for her...just sad for me. She was an integral part of Friend.ship February and I am going to miss that girl. It just goes to show that you get the most rare and great things from the most unlikely people.

Do you see that? It's a little dark, but that's my baby climbing this a-little-too-scary-for-mommy-foot wall. We were rolling through his school carnival last Saturday when he asked me if he could get on it. I said, "Really? But you're afraid of heights?" I took 2 steps and then wondered when he ever told me that he was afraid of heights. Never. There was the time when we got on a ride at King's Dom.inion and it went a little higher than we both expected...and I still have his nail marks in my arm from last year...but when we got off, I believe that he shouted that it was "Awesome!" I heard this inner voice (I'm not crazy) talkin' some ying yang about placing fears on my child, so I rolled out 6 tickets and it was on. I am so proud of him. In life, if he gets to accomplish the things that I never did and go farther than I ever could've imagined, then I have done my job.


I wrote this earlier today...

I know that I haven’t blogged in a minute…I haven’t really been able to focus.

And now, I am sitting here at work…allowing the redness in my cheeks to subside before I go pick my baby up from afterschool care. I get worried about my temperament at work, b/c (and I hate to make this racial, but…) I just don’t want to be labeled the angry black woman. (6 of us out of 143 people, 4 out of the 6 are women and I’m the only black female engineer) I wish that I were like that letter-writing S23/S30 gal. That’s a good way to get results. But today, after being CC’ed on an email to my supervisor, I was so heated that I must have turned 5 shades of red. They keep preaching about being a team player, but I have found that this one woman wishes to have an adversarial relationship with me instead. In this email, she threw me under the bus in so many different ways that the tread marks have made pretty little designs on my entire body. Next thing I know, the pen in my hand got slammed against the wall and I stomped through the office right to my supervisor’s desk, literally grabbed a seat and placed it in front of him, and asked if we could rap for a taste about my dealings with this woman. I’m sure that this will be a perfect topic for Suzie B, whenever my next appointment with her is but I had a laundry list of other stuff to talk to her about. Anyways…

I explained my position…and I talk with my hands so I’m sure that my anger emanated from my rigid fingers and were evident in my wrist movements. I was trying to deal with this woman as diplomatically as I could but today, I will wear that “angry black woman” badge proudly! Of course, my supervisor told me to calm down but understood why I was so wound up. He assured me that this would not be a black mark on my record and that it probably won’t be the last time that something like this happens. En route to his desk, he had apparently responded to the woman’s email, defending me once again and actually told me that this woman probably thinks that she is “hot sh*t”…not too professional, but it made me laugh. In the meantime, we’ll just have to work to figure out a way to appease this whiny broad. But something did stick out about our 50-minute conversation:

Me: I just feel like I have all of this pressure to do well b/c although I’m juggling 4 projects and whatever fires I have to put out with regard to past projects, this one is ALL mine.
Super: Who’s putting all of this pressure on you?
Me: Me.
Super: **laughs** It’s not worth the ulcer.
Me: OK.
Super: All I know is…
Me: **eyebrows raised in question**
Super: David better not get kicked off American Idol.

Mental note: Ask supervisor what brand of wine he drinks.