Foiled Again, Crazy White Boy

I think I uncovered yet another plot hatched by Donny to kill me. I know you’re going to say that I watch too much Dateline, but hear me out.  Last night, once I was ready to turn in I did what I do every night. I sweep the house. No, not with a broom. I patrol, I investigate, I make sure everything is okay. And I have a process.

First, as soon as I exit my bedroom I stand still at the landing and peer downstairs. I listen and watch intently to see if I startled an intruder. I stay there for about 15-20 seconds. Then I look out the gallery window and survey the dark street. I’m looking for that lone figure in the shadows invisible save for the lit tip of his cigarette every time he takes a puff. See, he’s been standing there casing the joint (that’s what they say in the movies, casing the joint) and smoking cigarettes until he sees all the lights in my house go out. Then he’ll make his move. Well, keep waiting Mr. Cigarette Man, ’cause I always leave some lights on. So there.

Then I go into Kali’s room and kiss her and tuck her in and make sure she’s still breathing. What!? Don’t look at me like that. Any parent that doesn’t do the breath check every now and again is well… lying. Cause we all do it.

Then I go downstairs and I check every room, check all the windows, and make sure the alarm is set. Well, last night not only was the alarm not set but the door leading from the family room to the garage was ajar. Hmmm, that’s weird, I thought. No, really what I thought was, “I’m going to kill Donny!” He and Kali were the last ones to come up last night and he assured me he’d locked up and set the alarm. I ask every time he’s the last one up and he does the same to me.

Why would he say he’d locked up when he hadn’t? And the cars are in the driveway and not the garage (long story) so someone could have easily used the automatic garage opener in one of the cars and entered through the garage. Why would he say he’d locked up when he hadn’t?

Then I realized that I had just uncovered his nefarious plan to have someone sneak into the house in the middle of the night and kill me. Aha! You gotta get up a little earlier in the morning to pull one over on me crazy white boy. I went back upstairs and woke him up.

“Donny.”

Nothing.

“Donny.”

Nothing.

“DONNY!”

“What?”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not yet.”

“Then why did you leave the garage door open and not set the alarm?”

He jumps up.

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Then I just imagined going downstairs and having to close the door and set the alarm myself?”

I climb into bed next to him.

“I swear I set the alarm. Kali was standing right next to me. I set it, she got some water, and we came upstairs.”

“Uh huh. Well, somebody is already in the house then. Hiding and waiting to kill us all.”

He gets up and heads downstairs to investigate.

“I already did that!” I call after him.

I listen for the sounds of an intruder knocking him upside the head and when I don’t hear it I figure everything is kosher. He gets back in bed.

“Are you done? Are you done writing, blogging, studying, whatever?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come here.”

And he hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me close. As he snuggled his face in my neck I couldn’t help but wonder if while he was downstairs he didn’t go to the window and wave off Mr. Cigarette Man silently telling him to come back another nigh

I Don’t Do Zelda

Each family has its little quirks. You take great comfort in living with people that know your faults, idiosyncrasies, and annoying ass habits yet love you anyway. Like my inability to put the butter spread back in the fridge when I’m done with it. Donny hates it and there have been times when he goes into the fridge looking for the spread to butter his toast, but finds the spread a melted, soupy, mess in its container on the counter. He fumes and wants to stick my head in it, but opts for yelling out, “Woman! What do you have against butter?!”

He gets his revenge though. My biggest pet peeve is finding his coffee spoon laying on the counter leaving a stain. Every morning he stirs his coffee and then leaves the spoon on the counter in front of the coffee pot. He doesn’t rinse it first so it just sits there leaving a coffee stain on the counter top. His explanation is that he’s going to use the spoon again when he goes back for another cup… or five. I just hate the way it looks and will purposely toss the spoon in the sink and scrub up the coffee when he’s not looking.

His latest little thing really bothers me. I mean, really, really annoys me. I have been telling him for months that I want to start using reusable shopping bags when we go to the supermarket. Every time I mentioned it he would give me a funny little look. Well, yesterday Sophie sent us a stack of the cutest green mesh bags to use when doing our grocery shopping.

You know, the idea being that you’re helping the environment by not using the paper bags made of trees or the plastic bags that kill the birdies. So, you take your own bags with you every time you shop. I think they’re adorable and now that I’m 13 chapters into my environmental science book (which scares the shit out of me) I’m more determined than ever to start doing our part to help the environment.

Anyway, last night I told Donny that he should take the bags and keep them in the back seat so that we’d always have them when we go shopping. Also, he has to stop at the store today and I thought he could use them for the first time.

“I’m not using those bags.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“What are you? 10? Because is not an answer”

“Because people will look at me funny.”

“Oh. my. God. You are 10. No one is going to look at you funny. And if they do, it’s probably because they’ll be jealous that they’re not doing more to help el medio ambiente.”

“El who?”

“El medio ambiente. It means the environment in spanish. I have an exam tomorrow. It’s good practice. Shut up. Anyway, the point is that you shouldn’t care what other people think. It’s the right thing to do so put them in the trunk and you better not walk in here with another plastic shopping bag.”

“Whatever.”

We start preparing for bed – loading the dishwasher, setting the alarm, taking out the garbage, etc.

“I was going to get that cooking game you wanted for the Wii, but they were all out. I was going to get Zelda, but that was out too. You’d really like Zelda.”

“I can’t play a Zelda game, Donny.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because is not an answer.”

I hate when he does that.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Do you think I’m hot?”

“Very hot.”

“Do you think I’m sexy?”

“You know I do.”

“On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the sexiest, how sexy would you say I am?”

“You better have a point… um,… a 15?”

“Good. Now, my point is that as geeky as I am; Harry Potter books, logic puzzles, love of math and literature… well, of school in general, comic books, video games, and science fiction, my hotness has always saved me from being a Grade-A, bonafide, geek. But there are two things that will not bring me back from the dark abyss of nerdiness… no matter how long my legs are, how luscious these DSLs are, or how nice my tits are: D&D and Zelda. Sorry.”

“You’re weird.”

17 Pounds

It’s a funny thing to be losing weight, but rarely leave the house. You don’t really get how much weight you’re losing until you put on a pair of jeans and a red baby t-shirt. A red baby tee from a television show given away in a swanky gift bag along with cosmetics and costume jewelry by the network at a launch party. A red baby tee sent to you by your friend who attends such events with a sense of boredom and “been there, done that” so he sends you all the cool stuff like designer purses and Emmy swag because he’s so “over it.”

And you sit home in your southern suburban home, soaking it all up because that is the very epitome of living vicariously and… you like free stuff.

Then one day, you realize that you don’t want to go to your nephew’s first birthday party looking like a schlub. You decide to do some serious hair removal on your face – getting old sucks- and pull out the free cosmetics and sexy t-shirt.

What is it about expensive stuff that you would never by for yourself, but given to you for free, that is so damn… sexy? The eyeshadow was as smooth as butter. It was like rubbing lotion on my eyelids… sexy, coral, lotion. And the t-shirt… oh. my . God. The t-shirt.

It was soft like a cloud… a sexy, red, cloud. And kinda stretchy. Like a girdle. A.. sexy…red…girdle. It just held everything in and hugged my boobs. Ladies, you know what I mean. And I don’t know what made me have the cajones to put on such a t-shirt. I mean, holding it up when I opened the package from Richard I thought, “Who’s this for? Kali?” Then I realized he wouldn’t send her a sexy red tee with the words, “The revolution will be accessorized” on it. Seriously, what gave me the idea I could even think of….

Oh wait. I know what. Losing 17 pounds might have something to do with it. Yeah, nothing motivates you to keep eating right and working out like realizing that losing 17lbs means fitting into sexy jeans and t-shirts again. Top that off with new makeup (Donny said as I applied it, I actually moaned, but I don’t remember that) and a pair of heels and well… it’s all worth it.

So, that’s how I spent my Saturday. At my parents house celebrating my nephew’s first year in this world… with his cute self… and feeling prettier and thinner than I have in a long time. And I’m not even done yet!

Wiiii!

Wheeeeee! We got a Wii!

Donny called to say he was on lunch and running to the bank to deposit some checks (the new company that bought his company has direct deposit, but it has yet to kick in and we switched to Geico so our old insurance company just sent us back a huge check) and I said, kinda half joking, “You know, you’re not allowed to walk in this house tonight without Transformers, right?”

So, he stopped at Walmart and he said just sitting on the shelf were two Wiis. Mocking him like, “I don’t know what the fuss is about motherfucker, I’m right here.”

So he calls and asks, “Do you want a Wii?”

“Yes!”

I have a Wii coming home today. This must be what it feels like for adoptive parents to get that call that they can go to China/Russia/Africa because their baby is ready.

Well, similar.

Too Early In The Damn Morning For a Rant…

… but you’re getting one anyway ’cause I’m hot!

So, my friend Maven wrote a really great blog in which she talks about finding out who you are. She referenced something she read Oprah write after she’d been on trial by the cattle industry for that ridiculous lawsuit.

As usual, when Oprah is mentioned on the Space known as My (as Tralfaz likes to call it), someone has something to say about the school for girls she opened in Africa. Now, I’m going to talk about how I feel about the school and, hopefully, encourage you all to ask and answer some questions about why it seems to bother people here at home.

1) I really try not to be one of those black people that believes every time a white person does something, or says something, negative to a black person it’s about race. But, boy, some white people make it so hard.

Like when one of Donny’s white employees called his black employee, “boy” just the other day – for all of you who think things are “better” or that “those type of things don’t happen anymore.” Or like when that couple came to view our house when we were going to sell it and the husband took one look at my black ass, turned up his face, and walked out leaving his wife and their agent stunned and embarrassed. They stuttered and stammered excuses out the door.  At first I was hurt and offended and then I told Donny, “We picked out every brick outside, the stone around this fireplace, every tile on the floors, the carpet, the mirrors, the countertops, and the knobs on the cabinets with love. Fuck him. I don’t want his ignorant ass living in my house anyway.”

But I tell ya, I have wondered why I’ve never seen a black person complain about Oprah’s school in Africa. Now, before everyone gets their panties in a bunch, I think it’s a valid question.  Are some white people irritated because this rich and powerful black woman has spent her money to educate and empower little black girls?  And if there are black people reading this now that have a problem with her academy in Africa feel free to talk about it here.

2) No matter what people’s true feelings are regarding her school, and what they say may very well be their true feelings and they’re not masking anything, the main complaint voiced is, “Why did she have to do it in Africa? Why not do it here at home? I’m sure there are schools in Chicago that could use her help.”

There are so many things wrong with that way of thinking that I’m sure after I hit post on this blog I’ll be slapping my forehead for forgetting several of them. But, I’ll give it a shot.

a) Why in Africa? Um, how about the fact that when little girls are allowed an education it is almost impossible for them to get to school to obtain it. There is no public transportation. They are walking miles upon miles with inadequate clothing to get to these schools which are poor facilities with out of date books.  And that’s if they’re not the primary caregiver to their home because their parents have  died of AIDS. And that’s if they even make it there safely considering there are still a vast number of HIV-infected African men who patrol the roads raping young girls because they believe that sex with a virgin is the only way to get rid of the virus.

So, I ask you and the doubters, why NOT Africa?!

b) Why not do it here at home? (Insert any of the 50 states or any US city here) could surely use the same help.

Do we really think that Chicago needs the kind of assistance that Africa does? Seriously? A little girl born in the United States is the luckiest girl in the damn world. Oprah did a show once where she examined the lives of the 30 year old women in other countries. It was of particular interest to me because I was about 31 at the time. In one country, Jordan I believe, more women attend and graduate university than men. More women own businesses and earn more money than men. But women can’t vote.

Little girls in Africa don’t have anywhere near the number of opportunities as our children at home do. That’s a fact. The fact that we are comparing this highly developed nation to an under developed/developing one is laughable.

And let’s talk about the help Oprah, and others, have given children here at home. When people are asking, “Why Africa?” Do they stop to look at the help her Angel Network has given to schools and communities here in the states for years? Do they not care, know about, or pay attention to the Boys and Girls Clubs she has opened to give children in inner cities some place, other than the streets and drug infested parks, to go after school?

Let me tell you, I live in the mother of all suburbs. This is where soccer Moms go to die. I don’t think my town has even heard of a Boys and Girls Club because we don’t need it. This is a community where, most times, kids have a mom (like me) waiting at home when they get off the school bus – with a hug and afternoon snack waiting for them.  There are few single parent households in my subdivision. Hell, when I stand at the door and watch Kali walk to the bus stop there are three Dads waiting at the bus stop with their children. Dads.  These communities that require BGCs are the exact opposite of where I live. Does the help she provides those children not count?

Do they not care or pay attention to the schools she has helped rebuild in New Orleans or the homes she has given to the victims of Katrina? Whole subdivisions with the help of her viewers and other celebrities. If you go to her website right now you can purchase what you can to help build and furnish a home for a family that needs it.

And speaking of that, all these people pointing fingers asking what Oprah has done at home, let’s point that finger right back atcha.  What have you done?  We all pay taxes to help our local communities and you know, fund this war, but so does Oprah. Going above and beyond, and giving back, what have they done to help the schools in their areas? If you’re so worried about the conditions of the schools right here at home, what are you doing to help them?

When Bill and Melinda Gates donated all that money to African schools, where was everyone asking them, “But what have you done for the children of the United States?” Oh, wait, because we know for a fact all the charitable deeds they perform at home?

Here’s the thing, people: There are always celebrities donating money, building schools and homes for the less fortunate, etc. Sometimes it will make national news and sometimes it won’t. Sometimes we are only aware of their philanthropic deeds because the organization in which they support awards them for their efforts. Sometimes we’ll pick up the local paper and see that they were in town for a fundraising dinner. Sometimes their publicist will alert the media to what they are doing.

And finally, I am so tired of hearing that she is only helping, “her people.” Let me tell you something about “people.” Because he’s my damn husband and we can talk like to this each other, when a white person does something stupid, crazy, illegal, and it makes the news I say to Donny, “Mmm, there goes your people again.”

And he just shakes his head and says, “Those aren’t my people.”

So, one day I asked him, “Who are your people then?! You can’t just disown white people. You can’t do that. Hell, trust me, if it were that easy we’d give OJ up.”

“You are my people. You and Kali and my family.”

And after I wiped the tears from my eyes, grateful that I married such a prince, I started to wonder, “Who are my people?” Now, I can’t speak for anybody but myself, and I damn sure can’t speak for white people, but it seems that black people will have a sense of “people” about them. My people start at home, husband and child, and extends outward to include my family, and Sophie and her family who are my family, and Richard and his family, and David and Tobias and their family, etc., then my community and neighbors, and black people and the nation at large. I truly feel that way. And yes, I include black people as a whole.

It’s why I will go see a black made film with an all black cast in the theatres instead of waiting to rent it. Iwant to support them. I want to be a small drop in the massive bucket that may help more films of that kind get made. Jamie Foxx brought up an interesting point at this year’s Golden Globes. Before presenting an award he addressed his fellow colleagues and the world and pointed out that for all the awards and recognition DreamGirls received it still only showed on a small number of screens across the country.

It’s why my Mexican neighbors travel further to shop at a Mexican grocer. One, they’re more likely to have the ethnic ingredients they require, but the owners are from the same town in Mexico that they are from and they want to support “their own.”

I don’t know if that was part of Oprah’s reasoning or not. Though I do know that she, Denzel, a few other black celebrities that could afford it had their geneology (sp?) done and traced back their ancestors to the exact tribes in Africa from which they came.  So, hell, maybe she is helping “her people” more than we know.

But does it matter? I don’t think so. What I think matters is this:

Instead of criticising the whos and whys and how much of their actions, how ’bout we take a look at our own sense of stewardship?

Cherry Coke Schmerry Coke

I’ve lost 15lbs in 60 days. That’s almost 2lbs per week. That is healthy. After a few weeks I stopped referring to it as a diet. Especially around Kali. It hasn’t been nearly as hard as I thought.

In the past 60 days I’ve had three baked potatoes, five cupcakes, six slices of pizza, and as of last night… one Cherry Coke.

And I’ve still lost 15lbs because in the 60 days prior to that, those numbers were a helluva lot higher with little to no exercise on top of it all.

Last night, no one felt like cooking. I was still nursing my migraine hangover, Donny had a rough day, and Kali wasn’t feeling well. We all kind of wanted to just “hang out.” Donny has learned in the past 60 days to stop asking me, “Can you have… (insert food name here.)” My answer is always the same, “I can have whatever I want. I just have to be smart.”

I knew that I wasn’t cutting out cola from my life for good. It was just a personal decision when I decided to change the way I eat to include no soda. Drinking water was always a struggle for me, but I wanted to be healthier. I wanted to see if it would really help my skin and hair look healthier. It has. I wanted to be a normal person who didn’t drink 6 cans of Cherry Coke a day. Who ate pizza once in a while instead of three times per week… and who knew how to stop after 2 or 3 slices.

I thought I’d feel differently after drinking cola again for the first time. I’m not sure how I thought I’d feel exactly, but I didn’t expect to feel so damn… guilt-free. So many people said to me that drinking a can of soda would help that migraine hangover and I figured I’d give it a shot. As I cracked open that can and took my first sip I thought, “This feels weird.” For the past 60 days I’ve had nothing but bottled water, the ocassional 4 oz. of orange juice with breakfast, milk, and one fruit smoothie. That’s it. Nothing carbonated. Just holding the can felt funny.

After the first few sips I started smiling like a fool.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I am just happy.”

“Because you’re drinking soda?”

I told him…because I’m drinking soda and it’s no big deal. Because I’ve lost 15lbs and these jeans are hanging off my ass. Because I’m drinking soda, but tomorrow I’m still going to have my multi-grain Cherrios, wheat toast, and orange juice for breakfast. I’m still going to have tuna on wheat for lunch with baby carrots. I’m still going to have 2 oz. of grilled pork, a cup of wild rice, and half a cup of sweet corn for dinner. I’m still going to have three healthy snacks throughout the day and workout in the morning. I’m still going to drink about 12 glasses of water tomorrow.

For the first time in years I was in control of the soda and it wasn’t in control of me. Who knows? It may be another 60 days before I drink another soda. It may be 90 days. Whatever. It’s just not that big of a deal anymore. I may eat some candy on Halloween. Big deal. I’ve already decided that I’m not even going to sweat Thanksgiving. I’m going to eat what I want. It’s just one day. One meal.

One day, one meal, didn’t make my ass overweight so why should it going in reverse? I feel really, really, good, guys. Really good. And I look even better.

Sparkpeople.com

What are you waiting for?

When I joined Spark People, or as it Richard and OMC call it, “The Cult of the Sparkles,” I chose to track my weight loss by the pound and not by the date, meaning that I entered in the weight I wanted and it spit out the reasonable date the weight loss could be achieved. I didn’t care. I’m not in a race, contest, or a rush. I also broke it up into two goals. I’m really paying attention to what I look like at certain weights to determine when to stop. According to the experts, I should be about 159 for my height. Everyone hears that, takes one look at me, and go, “Ehh… I don’t know. You may look like a crackhead.”

So, the other day when I logged in my new dropped pound hitting that 15lb mark the computer basically said, “Um, yeah. Listen, you are 8lbs away from your first goal weight and the date of achievement is October 24th. That would mean over 3lbs per week and that’s not really healthy so you may want to consider pushing the date back.” I didn’t get mad or upset. Like I said, I’m in no hurry. So the new date is November 8th.

Donny found my old spousal military ID and it read that I was 5’11 and 140lbs. I was stunned. Surely, that couldn’t be right. That’s like super skinny. Was I ever really that skinny? The picture was taken about 10-11 years ago. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.

I never want to be that thin again. I just want to fit into, and feel good in, all the sexy ass clothes in my closet.

TV Talk

It wasn’t that long ago that seeing black people on primetime television was so rare that JET magazine was able to highlight all of their appearances on one page in the back of their weekly issue.

“Oooh. Look, Ma. Louis Gossett Jr.’s going to be on The Love Boat next week!”

My Grandmother will be 82 in a few days and she remembers the days when not only was it rare to see black people on television and in movies, but if you did they were almost always the pimp, the drug addict, the murderer, the gang member, the rapist, etc.  And they almost aways spoke, “jive.”

Because of this she is particularly sensitive to certain types of movies and television shows. She calls them, “Nigger movies.” I know, I know, the first time I heard her say it I reacted pretty much the same way.

A few years ago my mother bought her a VCR for Christmas. Don’t laugh, it was only just recently she’d upgraded from a rotary phone to touch tone and obtained an answering machine.  Knowing what my mother was getting her, Donny and I bought my Grandmother a bunch of movies we thought she’d like. She’s a big Al Pacino fan so anything with him in it on VHS we snatched up. Then I got her a few comedies. I don’t remember all of them but one in particular was Rat Race.

“This ain’t a nigger movie, is it?”

“Grandma! What? No! What?”

“I don’t want to see no shuckin’ and jivin’. No baffoonery.”

“No, it’s Whoppi Goldberg, Cuba Gooding Jr…., it’s not… like that.”

She didn’t suffer shows like Home Boys From Out of Space lightly. She wouldn’t go see a movie with anyone with the last name Wayans.  If we bought her a movie you could see her eyes scan the box trying to ascertain it’s step n’ fetch content; if there were more than like three black people on the box she got suspicious.

It took me a long time to figure out the basis of her attitude.  Then I realized that she came from a time where Hollywood basically told black viewers, “This is what we think of you. This is how we see you. No, you’re not going to be the noble leading man. You’re going to be the waiters, the thieves, the hired help.” We had to show her that though Hollywood still had a tendency to put out films to the contrary, there were movies out there with black people, hell even an all black cast at times, that didn’t box them into stereotypes.

I really couldn’t blame her either. Where was the massive publicity push for black films of substance?  Is it because they don’t have the same massive financial backing as say, a Tom Cruise film about… hell, anything, that we don’t see Billboards, numerous talk show appearances, etc. for these films?

One of the most ignorant things I’ve ever heard a white person say is, and I still see this occasionally on a blog or such, “Why do you guys get to have BET? If we had White Entertainment Television we’d be considered racist.”  Uh, you have had white entertainment television since like… ever. It’s called NBC, CBS, and ABC.  That doesn’t mean that BET always gets it right. For every news program that covers a story of relevance to the black community not shown on other networks, there’s an ass shaking video. For every black film not shown on HBO, or even available at your local video store, there’s a show like, “Hot Ghetto Mess.”

Say what you want about Oprah, but black people should thank their stars that her show exists. Yesterday, she had the cast of, “Why Did I Get Married?” on her show; a Tyler Perry film that examines the ups and downs of marriage via four black couples who share a vacation house for a week. It looks really good and I can’t wait to see it. Who else, but Oprah, would provide that kind of publicity to such a film? Opening them up to a more expansive audience will hopefully  result in an increase in box office sales, and in turn, that will hopefully encourage Hollywood to put more money and faith in movies of the same type. Not to mention that some white people who might not have previously considered seeing such a film, may view it and realize that not all black films are like Soul Plane and  BAPS. (What was Halle thinking?)

Then maybe old schoolers like my Grandma will see that times have indeed changed.