love jones

So now that I have all this free time on my hands, I guess that I no longer have an excuse to NOT blog, aside from not having anything of substance to say. But I think that I can hold it down, at least, for all of this week.

My weekend was pretty decent. Tee came over with wine and crab rangoons on Saturday...the funny thing is, I ended up counselling her on HER problems and I think that was her goal from the beginning. Foolish me thought that she was trying to make me feel better, but its all good, I needed the break from myself I guess. On Sunday, one of Kat's boys, Mid.night, called me and we joked about them having a Tommy (Maaaaannnnn, you ain't GOT no job) Party. What can I say? It was Sunday, my day off, and I didn't have 'ish to do, LOL. So, I met up with them and we had dinner and played cards. My spades partner had also been laid off, but I sure hope that he steps his game up during his "vacation" b/c I was questioning if running in the rain was worth watching 8's and 9's of diamonds "walk" all night.

Anyway, putting this job/no job hoopla aside for a moment, I'd like to FINALLY talk about my trip back home...or at least, parts of it. So, I knew that my schedule would be tight b/c I had a lot of things that I wanted to do and people to see, but not enough time to do it all. But there is one friend of mine that I will make sure that I holla at...even if I'm only in town for 15 minutes, I will spend 2 of them with him.

Background

I've called him by a different name on blog before, but for the sake of what I'm about to admit (b/c I don't know who's reading), I will refer to him as Darius. So, Darius and I used to go to school together. At that time, a few of my friends had a crush on him, but I didn't like him. Although I didn't know him too well, I could sense his arrogance a mile away. We ended up at the same college and became cool. I was often found at the table where Darius would hold court and where many football players gambled their scholarships away. And then I graduated.

Many years later (post my failed engagement and that whole baby thang), we met again. I don't remember where (maybe the cornerstore) but it was kinda easy for us to run into each other since we lived pretty close. Not sure if it had to do with him or with the fact that I was going through some thangs, but I looked at him lustfully differently. We exchanged numbers and made plans for him to come over that night.

And well...that night was one of a string of times that we...uh..."caught up". He is the only guy that I can...uh..."catch up" with and not FEEL caught up...if you get what I mean.

That eventually ended and then something unheard of happened...we became really good friends afterwards. He is well into the spoken word circuit, so whenever I visit home, I make it my business to peep his latest project.

So once when I visited, he told me that he would do something special for me but I had to check him out at the spot he was frequenting at the time. I went there with my girls (who knew about Darius and I's past, but were just as clueless as I was about the surprise). We listened to a lot of people that night (and honestly, I was about to fall asleep b/c I can be somewhat narcoleptic), but when the host called Darius to the stage, our collective ears perked up.

You know how these "deep" people do it...they can recite "Old McDonald had a farm..." as long as its complete with pregnant pauses and hand motions signifying that what they're saying is the TRUTH! But when Darius started speaking, he held my attention from word one. Why? His poem was extremely explicit and very much about the first night that we spent together. He described everything from walking to my house to uh...running up in "it". So while I was busy being embarrassed as all hell, my girl whispers,

"Say bruh, I really didn't need to know this much about you and I'm 'bout ready to walk out!"

I.was.speechless.

He walks off the stage to MUCH applause, b/c methinks that there was many a pervert in the room...not to mention, the women that were ready to get their stroke on when I was two heartbeats away from strokin' out.

"So....what did you think? Did you like my surprise?"

Now

After a long day at Jazz Fest, getting just as bronzed as I want to be, I was TIRED! I hadn't slept the night before b/c I was afraid that I was going to miss my flight and didn't get a nap between leaving the airport and heading to the fairgrounds to hear Erykah and Rebi.rth. However, I was still determined to catch Darius at his latest spot.

Me and my girl walked in. We listened to a few artists, but it wasn't long before Darius was front and center.

"OK, I have to pause for a moment b/c my peoples are here! I'd like to introduce my best female friend since high school, *****. Say hello to the people, *****. And another friend of mine from high school, *******. And then you have the LOVELY LB! "

OK, so I had a girly moment. In the midst of that heart-fluttering crap, the first chick that he introduced came up and hugged me. And just as I was about to start a convo with her, I hear Darius shout...

"LB, since YOU'RE in the spot tonight, I want you to pick any one of my works and I'll perform it right here, right now..."

To be continued...

slide, giddyup, giddyup

OK, so this isn't a real blog. I got some things that I'm working on or working out. But I thought that I'd momentarily take down my "Gone Fishing" sign to post something close to my heart...Old School Bounce. New Orle.ans is home to many great things. Bounce music (circa early to mid 90s) is on my list...which is probably why Beyon.ce's extended version of "Get Me Bo.died" is (as Kat and I call it) my reset song for the club.

A friend of mine from high school posted this video on faceb.ook and my mood went from frantic to jiggly in 5 seconds. The whole song is really 9 minutes, but this video had me laughing at the dances we did and the music that made us hype...well, the video just has me laughing. I don't even know why I said "did" or "made" bcuz I still like bounce in small doses. Don't let a DJ spin this joint when I go back home this year cuz..uh...I'm doing a quick stretch and then the shoes are coming off.

Gimme what.cha got for a por.kchop...

URBAN DICTIONARY:
dj jubilee: the king of bounce. the new orleans hip- hop a music that set the format for crunk, buck, and screw music. jubilee has been making dances for the south since 1991

keep on driving

I have been having a lot of dreams about my momma lately. I wish that I could say that she glided her way down from heaven to hug, love, and kiss on me. Oh no. In every dream, she is nagging me about one thing or another. I sometimes wonder if she is trying to send me some message; yet, it doesn't seem to penetrate the many thick layers of my hard a$$ head. I never remember why she's chiding me once I wake up. But even the cool side of the pillow can't temper how hot I get about it, mentally kicking rocks, 'bout to spit, "that woman sho' gets on my nerves!" That is, until my eyes start to focus and I realize that she isn't here anymore. I think about this heavily during July and August, being the months of her sunset and sunrise respectively. My cuz tries extra hard to encourage me around this time b/c I always seem to disappear from people. Which is even easier to do, b/c J is usually back home with my dad. I guess that I keep re-living certain things and wondering what I could've done differently during her last days and how my life would be different now.

Anyways, I was driving to work this morning and everything was according to program...left turn here....merge right here...look at this a$$hole...I'm gon' give him the HARD gas face for cutting me off...punk won't look over 'cuz he knows that he's wrong...some sick sense of "gas face victory"...pay toll...giggle at Ste.ve Har.vey...quick swab of lip gloss...UNTIL this voice says, "Hey, you remember when that girl on the bike bust yo' window out? Whatever happened to her?" I laughed so hard that I almost missed my last turn.

I believe that I was 16 or 17 y/o. One evening, I backed out of my driveway and headed for a friend's house. Right when I was about to exit my subdivision...at the corner of the exit street and the main street...I inch my car out to see the oncoming traffic to my left before I continue. It was clear. I start to head towards the intersection at the neutral ground, separating the oncoming traffic to my right, and then BAM! I was startled, to say the least. I stopped in the middle of the street. But my car now had a small dent close to the hood, a busted out window, and in front of me was a big broad laying on the ground, parallel to a semi-twisted bike with a dented basket.

I was confused b/c there was no way that I could've picked up that much speed from the time that I stopped to look for traffic. And it seemed that if someone rode their bike in front of my car, I would've seen them.

Again, I was 16 or 17 y/o. I hadn't long had my license but I had long cultured my vivid imagination. Whenever I told that story, it went something like..."this chick crashed into the side of my car, did 3-4 sommersaults in the air, landed on my windshield, paused for 3 seconds, did a Dukes of Haz.zard roll off my hood, tumbled like a bale of hay in the street, and then posed on her elbow." At that time, I was a receptionist at a police department. I remember sitting in a conference room with a couple of the police officers and my chief of police the following morning. I was so distraught that my momma forced me to tell them what happened...and that's what I told them.

After I finished, there was not one straight face in the room. I thought that I was in the twilight zone, b/c the last time that I checked, running over people was a serious offense. One of the sargeants explained to me that that wasn't what I saw, under controlled giggling. There was no police report...in fact, as I was helping this girl up, 2 patrol cars rolled by and never slowed to see what the hap was. My talking to these officers, who had long been family friends, was supposed to be for my benefit. For insurance purposes, they had taken pics of my car to show that the location of the dent was proof that it wasn't my fault. Even the girl's fam, at the hospital, was consoling me and saying that it wasn't my fault...as if to say that this broad does this sh*t on the regular. Oh yeah, she just loves to slam into windshields during her spare time. The girl only had minor scratches, but she seemed most concerned about the dented basket on her grandfather's bike.

I was done. I told my momma that I was never driving again. She kept telling me that I had to get back out there and that if I didn't do it soon, I'd be too paralyzed with fear to get behind the wheel again.

My response, "And your point is..."

Then one morning, later that week, I grabbed my purse and strutted out to the car. The passenger side, of course. I still refused to touch the wheel, so my momma would again be forced to drive Ms. Dizzy. She comes out to the car, fumbles with the door and then the next thing that I see is her grabbing and shaking her hand in pain. I'm thinking, "Oh Lawd, here we go...I don't care if she slammed all of her fingers in that door, I ain't driving. Hmph!" Momma was lookin' for some sort of emotion from me that morning and she got nothing. Finally, she said, "I cannot drive this morning...I just can't do it...so you're just gonna have to get over yourself and take us to work." I was PISSED! As many times as I have given people the gas face while in my car, I had never driven with so much attitude as I did that morning. I'm surprised that I didn't get a swift smack in the mouth with her good hand.

I was extra careful. I even let the car rock back when I stopped before I revved up again. I creeped down every street and slowed to a crawl at every turn. Finally, I made it to her office. Momma opened the door, got out of the car, and then bent down and said...

"You are so pitiful. By the way, I didn't really hurt my hand. I love you too, Bye."

And then she blew me a kiss, smiled real hard, and raced up the on-ramp with a quicker pace than normal in her high heels...as if she knew that I wanted to run her over. I had all kinds of names for my momma that morning. I WAS MAD!

But I was driving...and then I understood.

So as I was thinking about this, I wondered if my momma has been showing up in my dreams b/c she knew that I was getting weary...or that I had been spending too much time hanging on to the past. I won't try to draw any conclusions. I just know that when I wake up mad again, hopefully I'll remember her mischievious smile on that morning. And that it gives me, even when I feel as if I'm a kiss away from defeat, the fuel to keep on driving.

learn

Back in the day, I had an internship in the petroleum industry, a subsidiary of She.ll. I have to say that it was one of the most boring jobs that I ever had, but I used to work on Poy.dras (the N.O. version of Wall.street, lol) with a lot of my friends at the time. So, I guess that THAT and the $20/hr (for a college student) made it rather bearable. They mostly gave me "busy work", but I remember running my mouth to one of my mentors there and asking for some hard core engineering tasks. Next thing I know, they put my a$$ on a helicopter en route to an oil rig, smack dab in the middle of the Gulf of Mex.ico.

I was scurred!!! I remember calling my momma to remind her of what I was wearing and telling her to send the search party to somewhere-unknown, U.S.A. b/c that's where I was headed if this rinky-dink thing dropped. I think that my knees knocked during that whole flight b/c this mess wasn't nowhere near as smooth a ride as some Del.ta or Ame.rican Airlines 747. But once I got out there, it wasn't half bad. Granted, I was the only female out there (and I'm a pretty small woman, at that), but this was where people that looked like me worked...a hard shift from the office where I stuck out like a sore thumb being young, black, and female. Out there, well, I was just small and female. But those men were just as happy to see me...to see "us" represented amongst the hard hats and company polos. I think that the other polos were shocked to see how well I was treated. The gentlemen on the rig could relate to me b/c I actually talked TO them and not AT them. I soon realized that the people that truly had the answers weren't the ones in air-conditioned offices crunching numbers and simulating models. They were the ones that were actually out there grinding. And you know what? I learned how to advance.

And then I had an incident back at the office. There was a blockage in one of the pipelines. My mentor strolled up to my desk with a manila folder, plopped it down, and said take care of it. I was thinking, "WTF?" This wasn't a situation that "my boys" could help me with. So, I tried to contact (let's call him) Mr. Jones at one of the stations close to the obstruction. Mr. Dumb-A$$ kept answering the phone but he would tell me that Mr. Jones wasn't available for one reason or another. Much time went by and this man had NO PLANS of returning my calls. So, I said that I'd just have to be a nuisance b/c no one is going to keep me from doing my job. Mr. Dumb-A$$ answered the phone and was immediately annoyed to hear my voice again. He put me on hold, or so he THOUGHT, he put me on hold. Then I heard:

Dumb-A$$: Hey, this woman keeps on calling you.

Mr. Jones: Awww hell, again? Do you know what for?

Dumb-A$$: I don't know but she sounds like a BLACK woman.

Mr. Jones: A black woman?

Dumb-A$$: Yeah, what do you want me to tell her?

Mr. Jones: I'll just get her off the phone.

I.WAS.FLOORED. What in the hell does my being black have to do with the cost of tea in China?

And then Mr. Jones got on the line and spoke to me as if he hadn't been dodging my calls. I was still in shock and ANGRY b/c I didn't know if it was appropriate for me to confront him right then and there. I kept my cool but as soon as I hung up the phone, I marched my a$$ right up to someone in HR and asked them to refresh my memory on racism in the workplace. I was ready to take action. At the end of the investigation, the company decided that Dumb-A$$ and Mr. Jones should apologize to me. My response:

Keep it.

I got what I needed from this and some phony "I'm sorry" was only going to annoy all of us. But you know what? I learned to remain professional during the heat of the moment.

Fast-forward many years and positions...

I like my job. It provides my needs during this season. I said to myself that I wouldn't mention Jesse's name again on blog for 2008. My bad. Overall, I have been dealing with the situation pretty well in the last couple of months, but that's b/c I have been doing my best to avoid him. One morning, it was so sad. I pulled into the parking lot and saw that he was parking his truck at the end of the lot, where the remaining employee spaces were. Instead of having to do that uncomfortable walk towards the building, I parked in a visitor's spot and practically rolled over my car, a la Duk.es of Hazz.ard, to get inside. For many days, he was constantly placed in my path and I damn-near tripped over my own feet to keep from having to greet him. It was obvious that I wasn't trying to speak, but he would try to engage me in conversation anyway. I have been more than "short" with him, while still attempting to appear unaffected.

And then today I had class. I knew that he registered for this class, so I figured that if I got there early and sat up front, I wouldn't be forced to look at him. As luck would have it, he sat behind me. Oh joy. I was enjoying myself in this class until the teacher said that she wanted us to do an exercise...in pairs. I looked up in the sky, as if God saw me giving Him the evil eye b/c I knew it was coming.

"LB? How about you and Jesse pair up?"

My mind was screaming, "F*CK!!! What is the dayum deal??!!! Do I have to quit to get away from this dude?"

I know God heard that F-bomb in my head. But Geez! I know that I initiated our end and everything but I felt no power from that. I still felt as if Jesse saw a weak side of me and one of the reasons that I chose to avoid him is b/c I still feel embarrassed...I feel that he saw too much of me. And if I avoid him to the point of indifference, then what happened never really happened...heck, we never happened.

But today, I looked this mofo in his face and...I felt nothing. I could tell that I made him uncomfortable b/c I was smiling but it was all I could do to complete the task. We made a good team, in the end. Will we ever be friends? That is not my goal. At this moment, I'm just glad that I don't feel this mad churning in my stomach or an ache in my heart. I'm just glad that I can look him in his face and know that he doesn't have the same power over my emotions...or that something inside of me won't allow him to. And you know what? I learned that it is best to face your issues head on. Avoiding them WILL make them go away, but that's only until they resurface.

Challenges are like fortune cookies. Once you crack them, that's where the fortune lies.

blacktop cred

So, I spent the weekend with K-Rizzy and I miss my girl already! Her visit was the kickoff event to what I have officially dubbed as "Friendship February"...when I ATTEMPT to create, reconnect and revive friendships. I am coming to realize that sometimes I can be friendship-challenged. I am VERY friendly, personable...but when it comes to bonding with new people and nurturing new relationships, I am not that good at it. I have my core of good friends that I have known for over a decade. And when one falls off the map, it's cool b/c eventually we will pick up where we left off. You can't really disappear with new friends. I swear that I don't do it on purpose. I get wrapped up in something or simply nothing at all. And then I find that I have less patience with new people. For instance, there's this one woman who just calls to spit her monologue. She cuts me off when I talk, rambles on and ON about stuff that's just 10 kinds of wrong, and seems rather drama-filled. She's not ALL bad and I wish that I could just bring myself to roll out with her for a time or 2, but she's so heavy (heavy, in the sense that she has so much drama going on). So considering my options, I'm not sure how the next 3 weekends in February are going to play out, but we'll see.

Anyway, K-Rizzy (who's a play ther.apist) and I were talking today and she was telling a story about some 4 y/o child that she counsels, who has an obsession with God.zilla. He has taken to jumping off furniture and onto other children and just recently got in trouble for punching some kid in the eye (which he claims was self-defense). When the child's father came to the school, he goes through great trouble to try and intimidate the little boy and tell him that he's just going to have to beat him when they get home. I bust out laughing for 2 reasons: never in my life would I tell J, IN FRONT OF teachers/counselors i.e. people mandated to call the authorities if they suspect abuse, that I was going to beat his butt when we got home. That's not to say that I won't do it (spank him, that is), I'll just wait until we get in the car or something to put the fear on his mind, I mean, still far enough away from home for him to sweat the idea of getting wore out. And the second reason that I laughed was b/c K-Rizzy had this counselor approach to disciplining children KNOWING that we came up in similar households that believed that to spare the rod is to spoil the child. I think it's great to see my little Oprah all grown up. I just can't wait to see her interact with her kids.

J is a lot like me and I am a lot like my momma. I can count on one hand how many times that I have had to lay the smack down and on that same hand, count how many times I got whipped for something...and maybe I have to borrow 2 fingers from the other hand, but you get the picture right? I never got whipped for the same thing twice and usually the time before the first smack on my bottom was enough for me to say, "OK, I get it. Won't happen again." All in all, we both haven't been "dealt with" much. I remember being extremely sensitive growing up. B/C I didn't get in trouble much at home, I couldn't handle it when a teacher or some authority figure tried to discipline me away from home. My feelings got hurt easily and I would probably get teary-eyed before someone even touched me. I see that he is a bit on the senstive side too and all it takes is one octave above my regular speaking voice and his feelings are automatically hurt. What's funny is that I'll see him tear up and then he'll walk off to try to clean it up...I guess that's his way of trying to remain strong and whatnot. It's cool b/c I let him have his moment. What works in my household may not work in anyone else's but I find that a stern talking to and taking away the things that he loves usually works. I'm not above whipping him b/c certainly, if the situation calls for it, there are no amount of tears that will save him from a good "James Evans type correcting." And if the situation involves him terrorizing other kids, he has officially signed off for a Category 5...you get the picture. My handle is LB and I got whipped and I'm a productive member of society.

And then we got off into self-defense. She disagreed with instructing your kids to retaliate. I've had this conversation with J before. I told him that if someone was bothering him, he should tell the teacher. I DID say that. But I also said that if she does nothing or if her punishment of that person doesn't prevent them from bothering you, you have my permission to lay them out. It was the same thing my momma told me and to this day, I see nothing wrong with it. I'm not trying to take the power away from the teacher. I just think that you have to establish "blacktop cred", if you will. I can't be near the monkey bars, ready to snatch a child up by the collar if I see them touching my baby. So, in the event that something goes down, I have no problem with him making an example/believer out of that kid and dropping him...and this is AFTER he has exhausted his other options. The kid will stop pestering him and the message will be understood by the others.

I recall being in a fist fight with this REALLY annoying boy in 6th grade. He lived to bully, made his rounds daily. He used to play those stupid "I like you and I don't know how to express myself other than pulling your hair" type games. He caught me on the wrong morning one time and he said something off the wall. I don't know if my house didn't have my favorite cereal that morning or what, but it didn't take much for him to push my buttons. I remember we got into an argument and then he hit me. Now, I'm not a fighter...short of kicking my dad in the groin, fighting was never my thing. But for some reason, telling the teacher that I got hit didn't seem appropriate at the time. I almost felt like that was expected, b/c I was always the teacher's pet. So, I hit him back. He was shocked, needless to say. So shocked that he socked me in the eye and knocked my glasses off of my face. I swear fo' lawd when everything got blurry, something inside me snapped. The sound of my glasses hitting the floor was like ringing the bell to a greater audience. When there are all those eyes on you, you feel the pressure. But I got pi$$ed b/c he knocked the lens out of my glasses and I just commenced to swinging...my only concern being that I don't fall. I remember thinking, "Mayne, we sure have been fighting for a while...when the hell is a teacher gonna step up and pull us apart, b/c I'm tired." To say that that was my first fight and I was somewhat blind, I was doing pretty well. And then what made it better is that dude slipped and it looked like I dropped him...perhaps another kid tripped him. Sweet Victory...and THAT'S when the teacher wanted to pull us apart. To this day, I think she was tired of his annoying behind and secretly rooted for me to give him one good, old-fashioned a$$ whipping too.

I sweat that fight the WHOLE day. I just knew that I was in trouble. I had a whole day to think about the many ways that my momma was gonna tear me up. But what's weird is that Ms. So-n-So never called her and when my momma came to pick me up, the teacher didn't even open her mouth. But b/c my sensitive behind was still wound up, I bust out crying in the car. So moms parked the car and asked Ms. So-n-So what happened. And this is why it pays to be a good kid. The teacher said that the boy "probably" started something with me and I reacted...brushed it off like it was no big deal. In fact, I'm convinced that she wanted me to whip his a$$ now that I'm re-telling the story. I don't remember much of their conversation, but when moms and I got in the car, she started laughing. I was mad b/c I spent the whole day being scared and she thought that mess was funny. She said, "So, Ms. So-n-So said that you wiped the floor with that boy." This woman seemed proud. But she said, "I bet that'll get him to stop messing with you." And she was right. He stopped talking to me altogether. I guess that he didn't like me anymore.

In the world of parenthood, discipline and defense are some touchy subjects. In the end, I think that most of us have the best of intentions. I just want my J to be able to hold his own and know that he is not to fear anyone or anything...aside from my Category 5...you get the picture...if he starts acting out of line.

congratulaaaationsss....

...I thought it would've been me, standing there with you. Congratulations, I hope you're happy. Well, not really.

So, I recently reconnected with a long lost friend of mine, M-Rod. I hadn't spoken to him in over a year...and even THEN, it was very brief. I hadn't seen him in prolly close to 10 years and I was hoping for a chance to verify that he hadn't gotten any cuter than the last time. It turns out that he lives a little over 3 hours away and I had the bright idea that I could swing through while on my way to Char.lotte, the end of this month. Unfortunately, he's been stationed in Ha.waii for the next 4 years...fortunately for him, I guess, but foiled my doggone plans. So, we're catching up and I ask, "Are you married off yet?" I figured that I already knew the answer to this...the question was more of an ice-breaker than a jaw-dropper. His response, "NO, I'M NOT MARRIED!" And right when I begin to exhale, I get..."Well, not yet anyways. The wedding is next year." Tricky ba$tard...ok, that was ugly, I know. But why did my heart drop down into my uterus?! Seriously, its all tangled up in my fallopian tubes right about now. I cannot even understand why I am reacting this way b/c my mind has certainly been occupied with other men since we last spoke. Yet, I'm sitting here quoting Ves.ta in her good days and drowning my sorrows in Can.ada Dry, when the situation OBVIOUSLY calls for a cherry slush from So.nic!

I met him during the summer after I graduated high school...through my g/f, Tam. They attended the same summer medical program. Apparently, he stole some pictures that she had developed from our trip to Disney World and he saw me all hugged up with some stuffed bear and thought it was hot, lol. We chatted on the phone for a few...he had that Spa.nish accent (if you call it that)...and in an effort to surprise me, Tam decided to drop by my house one night with him in tow. He.made.me.nervous. I think that I made THE WORST first impression known to man. I believe what he liked MOST about me was my sense of humor, but when I saw him, I couldn't find a joke with a map and a compass. He was so handsome...my first crack at exotic men (S23, 2007). I liked him, but the timing was off. He was about to go away to school...and I was staying home to attend TU. It just wasn't happening, but we still talked. But then, once we got into that school swing, those talks were few and far between.

I didn't see M-Rod until the following school year. He came to visit me in my dorm room one night, while he was in town. He and I...and my roommate...were all chillin' together, but then this broad leaves for no good reason and locks the door behind her. We were sitting on my bed, at the time, and I remember my first thought being, "Sh*t!" Up until this point, we hadn't so much as kissed...heck, up until this point all I DID was make-out with dudes, nothing serious. But I just KNEW something was about to go down that night. And it did. We didn't...well, hmmm, we did some things but my virgi.nity was still in tact (that's prolly the cleanest way that I can put it). And my roommate, being the thoughtful broad that she is, jingled her keys for a good 5 minutes before she walked into the room some hours later. Mayne, I ripped into her after M-Rod left...blamed her for every button that came undone, lol.

I made it clear afterwards, that he and I were not about to travel down that road. I was still clinging HARD to my vir.ginity. M-Rod was cool with all of that...I think that he admired the fact that I was still a vir.gin, but that didn't mean that he wasn't gonna try and get away with as much as he could. Shortly after the dorm incident, I went home to stay with my momma for a few days. He came over and she absolutely fell in love with him...she called him every Spanish name that she could think of...everything besides his real name.

Manuel, you want something to drink?

So, where are you taking my daughter, Jesus?

Julio, you hear me talkin' to you?

We were dying laughing at her...long after we left her to her Lifet.ime channel, while we grubbed at Cope.land's. When we came back, my momma was still awake. But she decided to give us some privacy and then went in her room and closed the door. I recognized that same mischievious look in his eye that he had at my dorm. My first thought was, "Sh*t!" I told him to not think that my momma didn't have her TV low enough to hear things going on...we'd better sound like we were talking and quick! Well, we lived VERY DANGEROUSLY that night.

The next morning, I jumped on my momma's bed to tell her about the fun time that me and Antonio had, lol. She stopped me mid-sentence:

"Who's been grabbing you around your neck?"

"Hunh?"

"Did Jose try to choke you?"

"What???"

"Go look in the mirror."

She started laughing as I was on that slow stroll. Lo and behold, I saw five dayum hickies that looked like he pulled an I.ke Tur.ner on me...the five finger silencer, lol. I know that I didn't drink that night but I didn't even remember him sucking on my neck, lol. Why he didn't have the decency...the common make-out courtesy...to not leave any marks is beyond me. But what was more aggravating was my mom's growing laughter.

"This isn't funny. Why are you so tickled by this?!"

"Baby, if boyfriend spending that much time around your neck, I know that he wasn't EXPLORING too much else!"

Moms even decided that certain family members and co-workers needed to know what Enrique was about, lol. I have an aunt that STILL likes to throw that story on the table. Yes, M-Rod and I had a few "physical encounters" throughout the years after that, but this one was prolly the funniest. After we first met, we never lived in the same place at the same time, but when we did meet up, we always enjoyed ourselves....not always in THAT way.

And now this dude is getting married....and I can't figure out why my eyes watered a bit. We were never a couple...it makes no sense. All I CAN say is "Congratulations", right? I DO hope that he's happy. But right now...JUST RIGHT NOW...I want him to be happy with me.

**Sigh**

extra hands

It's THAT time of year again. The time when your kids start school...i.e. bring home every germ their little hands can gather. As soon as I realized that J had gotten a hold of something that had him hacking like a 73 year old with a smoking habit just as old, my throat started feeling like I had juggled a handful of thorns and did the neck tilt, throw back, and swallow hard. So, our Saturday picnic with friends was cancelled. We both had to be nursed and QUICK b/c I can't afford to take anymore time off during the next 2 months. I grabbed my black bandana and hit up the local Wal.greens for every sort of relief that they offered in the Ny.quil form. I just KNEW that we'd spend Saturday in our respective corners, drifting in and out of drug-induced comas. I should have known that much like the picnic, things don't always go as planned.

We've been here for almost 4 months now and my Ur.ban Ha.ng Su.ite (my loft and bedroom on the second floor) was still boxed up creating a maze to my computer. Since I had recently gotten the correct pieces to this new computer desk that I had ordered 6 WEEKS AGO, I decided that I should organize my office. Once I broke out my tools, a bell went off and J immediately followed me to see what the hap was.

"Mommy, can I help?"

"Sure."

I was trying to think of what this child could do that wouldn't create double work for me. Bless his heart for wanting to jump in the game, but his little extra hands could only do so much. But I also understand that if I can get him to love chores at this age, I'm golden for the rest of my life. I had become pretty consumed with the glass pieces to my desk...counting rods, screws, washers, and bolts. I sized up each tool as if it were the first time that I'd use them. I've always liked building things as a little girl and, to this day, I still do even if it is not of my design.

"Mommy, can I open this box for you?" broke my concentration as I was giving a screw da bidness.

I look up to see him standing next to a box, almost as tall as he is, with the word "PERISHABLE" written in big red letters on its side. I smiled b/c my dad shipped this box from the N.O. almost a year ago. He had packed up the salvageable items from my house before he had it gutted. These were items that I had missed during my search...well, at the time that old dude and I broke into my former home, we could hardly endure any more of the stench that lingered from the mold and sludge, compliments of Ka.trina. We got what I thought were my most valuable treasures and bounced. I figured that whatever my dad retrieved was probably junk b/c he couldn't have known what I considered important enough to clean and keep. This was my house...and at a time, my mom and I's house...his family and concerns were located down the main street. But anyway, this box has been sitting untampered for almost a year. Even when J and I moved to our new house, I told the bruhs to just put it anywhere...it would be a while before its contents would see the light of day.

"Mommy, can I?"

"OK, but if it has styrofoam in it, please do not get it everywhere."

This was a worthy chore indeed. He'd not only become intrigued by the styrofoam but the bubble wrap was going to send him into a child's euphoria, lol.

"Mommy, look!"

That break didn't last long. I was more interested in my new desk than some old whatchamacallit that he had discovered. J had gotten the scissors and was anxiously slicing away at tape, bubble wrap, and anything that stood between him and his newfound treasures.

He held up a picture of my mom.

Somehow she had managed to stuff her huge breasts into this black and gold sequined gown, ready to show stop at the Zu.lu ball that night. She looked so pretty...and proud of her mile-long cleavage. I didn't particularly care for the man that was going to escort her to the ball, but I wanted her to have a good time nonetheless. I don't think that she really cared that much about the man either, b/c she just wanted to be seen. After 3 tummy suck-ins, I was finally able to zip up her gown. Which was right on time, b/c my next trick involved heavy-duty tape, lol. She floated out of the house and I was left to vacuum the trail of sequins that she had left behind. Before I knew it, this smile had crept up on me.

"See, mommy?"

While lost in my thoughts, J had managed to free another picture of me the night of my prom. I wore white...and it was appropriate. I looked so happy back then...senior year was coming to an end and I had a promising future to look forward to. My mom had me pose all around that house, back when we lacked the convenience of digital cameras.

Not very many minutes passed before I fought my ability to resist and started digging, spilling styrofoam onto the floor from both sides. Swimming through the material were my ballet, tap, and gymnastics trophies...all individually wrapped. These activities were my momma's way of counteracting my dad's attempt at turning me into his son. I pulled the plastic just enough to touch my name, etched in black letters, on a plaque that I had long forgotten about. I soon spotted my diploma and my green high school graduation cap. How did I miss these things? I probably didn't. Most likely, I saw them and thought nothing of them. But for some reason, 2 years later, they were my world.

I palmed a deflated football, signed by the entire TU team the year that they went to the Li.berty Bowl. I remember my mom calling me and telling me that she was on campus for some football-related function with a football in hand for her favorite players to sign. She always went with me to the home games...laughing, jumping, and cat calling the fine-r players on the team. Yeah, she created a scene but she only knew how to be the center of attention...anything else was uncivilized, lol.

"What's this, mommy?"

J held up a sealed, paper money pouch from the local N.O. bank. It jingled like change, but there was NO WAY that my dad would take the time to pack up something that doesn't fold like some hidden crisp bills. I grabbed the scissors, cut off the seal, and dumped the contents onto the carpet. Jackpot! Monogrammed rings and gold nameplates, diamond clusters and her precious peridots, tennis bracelets and chains...although not considered the "bling" of today, the mass glistened just as bright. My mom couldn't stand to have naked fingers. Me? I could do without. Some of the rings were still disfigured from when she was in a severe car accident during my sophomore year in high school. She always claimed that she never got around to fixing them...I started to believe that they served to remind her of God's grace. Everyone said that there was no way that she should've been able to walk out of that alive...let alone, walk.

I remember telling her, shortly after, that if she had died, I had no reason to live.

"If I die, YOU have EVERY reason to live," she corrected.

I found myself getting a little teared up as I stared at these items...FAR from being "PERISHABLE." So much has happened since she's been gone. I remember her looking forward to grandkids one day, but she never got a chance to meet my J. I sometimes wonder what she thinks of the woman that I have become, but wonder if I'd made too many mistakes that kept me from being the woman that she wanted me to be.

"Mommy, I saw a picture of you and your mom when you were grad-ju-way-teen. See? That's you and this is her."

"It sure is, J."

"Yeah...I KNOW that she's very proud of you too, mommy."

Whoa. I was officially choked up. I looked towards the heavens...more like my ceiling fan...as if I could find where he pulled that statement from. Nothing. Be that as it may, this was certainly a nice detour from what I thought would be a boring sick day. Bless his heart for wanting to jump in the game, b/c his little extra hands did so much.