Nostalgic

On my 47th journey around the sun, I found myself in a familiar place and a nostalgic coping method of dealing with life: My Shoe Chronicle Posts. On Wednesday, January 10th, Sadie and I did our daily check-in. She said she was feeling "gitty." A few hours later, she called to let me know that her physical therapist called her primary physician because her heart rate was low. He suggested she go to the ER. My brother took her. Not even hours later, she was admitted. We were told that she would have to get a pacemaker on my birthday.  

Her procedure was scheduled for 9:45 am on January 11th. As I was getting ready to go to the hospital, she called me around 8:26 am to tell me Happy Birthday and that they had pushed her procedure up to "NOW" because her heart rate had dipped ever lower. We got to the hospital, and her room door was open. Of course, her bed was gone. I pulled my laptop to do some grading. While I did not have lavish plans for my birthday, I didn't plan to be at the hospital. I was spending time talking on the phone and noticed the time. It was well after 10 am. The procedure was only supposed to last 45 minutes. Now, between lack of sleep, the unexpectancy of this ordeal, and anxiety was a concern. I went to the nurses' station to get an update. She immediately told me that they just finished up and she should be up in 15 minutes.

The view was amazing in her room. But the best view was when they rolled her back in and, after, they hooked up the monitors. My first words to her were, "You gotta have all the attention on my birthday huh?" She responded back, "I'll got $2 for you." The nurses gave me an update on everything--she asked when she would eat? I went downstairs as Keith went with me but went straight to breakfast. My birthday celebration lunch was in the hospital's cafeteria. I indulged in a Hook and Ladder sandwich and an Orange crush for my birthday. After eating that, we went upstairs. They finally brought her lunch. She ate the sandwich in two bites saying, "I hungry, shit I ain't eat since last night!"

After confirming that there were no dietary restrictions, I got her a cheeseburger, added tomatoes, and ordered onion rings, packets of mustard and ketchup, and a "ninja ale."I doctored up her burger, cut it in half, and she went to town. Mustard and ketchup were all over her gown, and they were medical devices. About 3 bites into her sandwich and one onion ring, transportation takes her to get an ECHO. She asked if they could postpone taking her until she ate, but that was no!

After 24-plus hours of madness, her heart rate went from 32 to 77 with the pacemaker. She's still in the hospital with hopes of being released. For those of you who are new to following me, The Shoe Chronicles were posted each day as we attended radiation to fight both stomach and gallbladder cancers. When I worked outside, I would post pics of my shoe game and a daily update with something positive to get me through.  What is so crazy is that I am now turning into a sneakerhead since I no longer have to tussle with corporate Americans in an office. Instead, I work from the comforts of a bedroom converted into an office. I no longer have to wear suits, dresses, skirts and heels. I found it coincidental I turned 47, Sadie's birthday year was 47, and her heart rate with the pacemaker was beating at 77, my birthday year.

I want to thank each of you for your birthday wishes. My apologies for not responding, but I had to use that energy to play the hand I was dealt with. This is an appreciated post to each of you and Sadie. Shout out to the excellent staff at Roper and my fellow Michigan fan who works there. Go Blue!

#47yearsyoung #itsStillCapricornSeason #weblogg #stillagirlworthfightingfor #iwrites #2024 #GoBlue #ShoeChronicles #stockx #NikeAirMax1CO.JPMichiganHeadtoHead 

https://www.agirlworthfightingfor.com/2024/01/nostalgic.html

Senses

A teammate called me via Microsoft Teams regarding a question about a student. After answering her questions, we started talking. We shared a few laughs and joked around. She talked about her upcoming time off in August just in case we needed to follow up with each other...and suddenly, she started crying. I paused to confirm that she was crying. We weren't sharing videos. In fact, I was working with my house frock, no earrings, and ruffled hair. Yet I stared at the screen as if I could verify if she was crying. All I saw was her profile pic in the middle of my black screen. I closed my eyes, so I could hear clearly.

She was finally taking time off to grieve losing her husband last year. I faintly remember some correspondence that went out. I tried my hardest to comfort her through my headset. If she was 3 feet away, she would be comforted with a hug, as I told her.  Instead, she is hundreds of miles away physically and millions of gigabps away virtually. I told her she needed to grieve in a way she would only understand. She told me that it just felt good to be able to cry. She's a widow with sons. In her attempt to be a strong mother for her kids, she wasn't there for herself. Her virtual work friends were all guys in different states who lacked sister-girl empathy. I said well, anytime you need to talk, cry, vent --whatever; you can contact me. We ended our conversation, and I went about my way. 

I've never met her in person. I've only spoken to her four times during my two-year-plus tenure at my job via Microsoft Teams or emails. In fact, throw in one or two chat interactions to the list. I used her profile picture to paint a picture of how I thought she was in her moment of transparency. That picture was for me to understand her more in an attempt to dissect her. I often study people, but it's easier to study people with a sense of vision. I had to lean to my hearing and let the empath in me take over.

I felt blessed to be available in her time of need. I felt blessed that although I wasn't able to touch her physically or see her---- my ears worked enough to activate my heart to grieve with her momentarily. I felt blessed because my light shined enough in a realm for this woman who had never met me to feel vulnerable enough to have a moment. I finally realized that my affiliation does not dictate my identity. I felt blessed to know that the light within that I felt was dim, illuminates bright enough today. I felt blessed to be a vessel.

Life leaves me in awe at times. I've always seemed to meet strangers who will just walk up to me and open up. I'd like to point out things that should be discussed with a licensed counselor. I'm still working on my facial expression to obey my calling. I used to run from it by being available to everyone instead of the right ones; those subtle inboxes, people waiting in line and we initiate a conversation, those people who witness the same things I saw, or someone holding the door for me. Most importantly, those whose reciprocity matches my level. Your light must shine as bright as mine to light up people, places, and things together. Be you in this world. Be available for the right people. Use your senses, most importantly, common sense. Oftentimes I find myself in places where I don't know anyone. But then again, there ain't never a stranger I've met that I didn't feel as if I didn't know. I'm writing this in my office as I sit in the dark. 

 

https://www.agirlworthfightingfor.com/2023/07/senses.html

Quicksand

 

I was sitting at my desk, thinking about all the ---ain't no other way to put it but, SH*T I had to do. The list is so long, that I'm going to need to use an 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper. That sheet is either going to have double columns or an arrow pointing to the right with the words, "turn over" is going to be written in the smaller than normal last line of its margin. 

All of this was after a virtual breakdown on the other side of my Facebook inbox messages with Keith. I told him what was going on with me and my mental and he did what he does, which I love. He offered a vague solution with in-depth reasoning behind it. The man knows that I am an overthinker and his conversations feed it just enough for it to build up momentum and then crash into a brick wall--that often generates a solution for me. My thought process then generates a vine of creativity that sparks a flame. When that flame is lit, my thought pattern blooms into colorful murals of words in my head,  the fond memories of the highest pitch of laughter notes from my past, and the Tony-Award-winning reenactment of scenes from my childhood--which births my steps of healing; writing.

While checking my work emails, I began to write a recommendation letter for a student. I pulled up the link to access it. In order to complete the process, I had to go into an old system. While pulling up the old system, I saw another email that needed to be answered, I was about to reply to it, but I stopped. Then I remembered that I needed to check the response of another email I had sent earlier with a consult. Then my phone alert went off. I found myself inboxing someone and offering encouraging words. Then I remembered that I had to call someone back from yesterday whose call I missed. As well as check on an appointment for Kailee and me. Then I had a text message that I was supposed to write down a number that I needed to follow up with. And I kept on saying that I needed to call and check on so and so because I hadn't spoken to them in a while. And then I was supposed to check some personal emails that were left unanswered for over a week.  Pure frustration, and lack of focus with a sprinkle of a hint of anxiety, would not allow me to figure out which to work on first, so I didn't do any of them.

After all of that two childhood memories came to mind. I turned away from my work computer and opened up my personal computer and began to write. I remembered being in the garden of my grandparents' house in Huger. That's pronounced Hue-gee. I can recall that Friday afternoon we had arrived.  Something went on special at school that day, I couldn't remember what it was. Momma had my hair in some ponytails with navy blue and hunter green ribbons. I think every girl had that plaid skirt with navy blue, hunter green, and streaks of black. Mama had me coordinated with some navy blue knee-high socks and I rocked my navy blue hard bottom shoes that were purchased from Kassis and Brothers. All a result of having wide feet at a young age, that country barefooted life.

We somehow parked in the back of the house that day, instead of on the side of the house in the driveway. I remember mama's pale yellow Ford LTD with a few rust stains on the back, was parked strategically aligned with the tops of those sweet plum trees that I found myself under. I was feeling so cute, that I couldn't keep still. It had rained that day and it seemed that the sun peeked out to check out my fly. I could tell the ground was wet and avoided some puddles. I took one step after twirling around in my skirt, as soon as I was about to stick my landing,  I lost my ground partially on my right foot. I thought I hit a soft spot when actually it was quicksand. Within seconds, my entire right leg was submerged. In my rage of panic, as I began sinking, I remembered that if you were ever stuck in quicksand to "be still" and not panic and you could escape. I stopped fighting and I was able to pull myself out. I don't remember all the details of how I got out, but I do remember my navy socks and shoes were a color that was not in my skirt. All I could think of was if I had just kept my balance, how I would still be cute without the mess. But it wasn't just the balance, it was the lack of preparation for the unknown.

Then my mind went back to my middle school years, after the death of my grandfather. M grandmother moved into the city and was a resident of Joseph Floyd Manor. Her sister lived on the 11th floor. She stayed on the 9th floor. My auntie used a cane or walker at times. I loved when my granny cooked and I took the stairs up to her apartment. She had left the south and stayed up north for some time. When she returned home she had adapted to her northern traditions and despised those of the south that she had left behind. I adored the decorations in her apartment. She was flashy for her age. I often wondered how her younger days were, her beauty was evident and flawless in the past and then present. Her favorite meal was smoked oysters and grits. I took her food to her one day. She was in her bed, I got everything situated for her. During our conversation, I said, "Yes Ma'am" as any preteen would do who was reared by God-fearing elders would. She told me not to say that and gave her reasoning behind it, as she felt it was a southern thing and this newfound northerner was not having it. I told my granny about it, and she assured me that would not fly with her. One of the many contradictions of life was introduced to me. Damn if you, damn if you don't.

The next time I returned with dinner, my trained southern mannerisms blurted out the word, "Yes Ma'am" again, and boy did I get it. I can't remember everything, but I remember her saying, "Stop saying Yes Ma'am, you ain't no slave and I ain't a master!" That interaction never made sense to me until today. The fact that my aunt was dropping real jewels of wisdom for me before I became a woman with a degree, a family, a career, and extracurricular activities. The fact that a little chubby chick with dimples lost her stature temporarily in quicksand was a precursor.

Keith's words of advice were to "slow down eliminate distraction and focus." He reminded me that on a daily basis, I'm being pulled in so many directions. All because of using those damn words, my aunt yelled at me for saying "Yes Ma'am" to the point that I am sinking. The more I say it, the more and more I step into a batch of quicksand.  Thankfully, I have been able to be rescued time after time. But in order to truly rescue myself in this season, I have to "be still." Little did I know, that life would be based on many contradictions the older I get. Here at 45, the biggest contradiction of life is that as a black educated woman, I have to work hard, and show that I am capable of multitasking every plate handed to me, all while looking good at doing it, while today I feel like a complete mess inside.  And the mere fact that if I don't do it, I'm considered lazy and that's far from the truth as I know it. One thing for sure, two things for certain; in any solution, a mess is evident. In this season, an external mess is way better than an internal mess. I have to protect my beauty inside. The external I can always clean up. I write this as I prepare my untheatrical thoughts for that recommendation letter for my student.

#quicksand #weblog #agirlworthfightingfor #yesmaam #beauty #cotradictions

https://www.agirlworthfightingfor.com/2022/07/quicksand.html

Mashed

I can recall my days of being on "The Hill" in Huger, that's

pronounced Hue-gee. My grandfather died in 1987, after which my granny fell into a state of depression being in the house they built, then mostly all alone. Except for those times that we made our way over there for weekends and holidays. I only had the privilege of knowing, "Margaree" for 6018 days and Granddaddy for 3,894. But within those short times, the lessons taught and love displayed, I can never put a value on.

This week, Keith and I made our way to the Chef Store. I am a clearance Queen. In fact my siblings and I are the clearance kids. But I find the better deals and I call everybody to see if they want it. My  personal gift of love. Well Gerald, my oldest brother called to tell me about a case of chicken being on sale. I heard the "75" part. When we got there, I saw the boxes of chicken with "75" on them. We picked up two boxes. Before making our way on the chicken aisle, we picked up "hamburger meat" as I like to call it for $.75 per pound. So we assumed the chicken had followed suit. Keith had started calling people about the deal. I wanted to confirm, so I asked a worker and it was "75" dollars per case for a 40 lb box.  3 boxes and a big shame turned into one box of wings and 20lbs of Hamburger meat.

Today, I decided to cook an old school meal: fried chicken, pork and beans with rice. I wanted to try a buttermilk bath on the chicken. I washed, seasoned and marinated the chicken. In betwixt cooking the chicken, rice and pork and beans, I found time to make me a seafood bag. The Juicy Crab could never.

My first batch of chicken cooked too fast. I will admit it's been over a year since I fried chicken. I set the first batch to the side, because I realized it wasn't done.  I cooked the next batch on much lower heat. Then, I remembered the words Margaree had first said and what Sadie reiterated after she left me. Whenever I cooked chicken to ensure no one bit into raw chicken, "you have to mash it to see if it's done."

Fried chicken can look like it's done physically. Beautifully browned, then when we break the skin, we can see blood-- proving that it's still raw.

I began to "mash" each piece of chicken. You see, if the chicken is not done, when you mash the chicken you hear the grease "accelerate" to accommodate the extra juices from it not being done.  You know the sound of throwing frozen french fries into hot grease. The louder the noise, the rawer the chicken. If the chicken is done, you hear little to nothing.

It reminded me of how we see a person who looks good on the outside, but oh the insides! How the designer jewelery, clothing or well out together individual could be underdone.Those with the biggest bark are often the ones with the most emptiest insides.  Some choose to let the external beauty flourish, while the internal beauty is flawed. While some discover the process to become done-- with the raw pain and hurt that life has given them. In this season, I've learned to listen to the words from individuals more so than there actions. To be honest, nothing surprises me  as to what I see anymore, because the pandemic has kept us inside, but to hear what comes out  an individual's mouth is immeasurable. These days in the spoils of life, it seems life we are thrown in hot pot of grease. It's overwhelming, we often look for some form of rescue, which could be best compared to pulling the chicken out the grease before it's done. But if we remain steadfast as we are being "mashed", we will see all that uncooked mess in us is almost done, we just have to listen. I'm writing this as I'm sitting on the couch feeling the cool breeze of the ceiling fan, after cooking. 

#ItsDone #AGirlWorthFightingFor #WeBlogging #InThisSeason

We do what we have to when we have to

Today I packed up and checked out my baby from her freshman dormitory. My girl finished her first year of college and our GPA is looking real 3.7 ish...I will take it. She defied the odds and wasn't another negative statistic in the African American community. As I was waiting on my personal barista to take her Calculus Final, I  noticed  I was sharing the space with other mothers in this parking lot, who were waiting on their children as well. 

I woke up this morning and logged in to work. Cleaned out the truck of the first batch of items from her dorm that were in my truck since Sunday. I ignored Keith's offer of help and simply replied I got it. I didn't get it until this morning. Saying to myself, girl you dumb. I made my way to Orangeburg, and to my baby. Her roommate had left. The chaos was on the right side of the room. I took a few bites of my sandwich that  I stopped to get. I was hungry, but when I talked to Kailee, she mentioned that she didn't eat. Somehow, my hunger was irrelevant. My determination was to make sure, my daughter ate to be prepared for her final at 3:30 pm. I started packing the truck, taking the heaviest, bulkiest items first. As we were almost done, she got an email from her instructor stating that she could take the final early. I kicked it into overtime. We were done within 15 minutes and I reassured her to take her time with her final, I was going to sit in the truck or peruse the big City of Orangeburg as she took her final.

 I met a mother who was walking around campus with her baby in his cap and gown. My congratulatory words to both mother and child were highly reciprocated with words of thanks and that "my baby did it look." I spoke with another mother in which I could see the frustration on her face. Sis told me that she lived in Spartanburg. She works overnight. She worked a 10-hour last night and got off at 2 am. She took a nap, dropped the other children off, and headed her. She said she had to go to work tonight. Which entailed driving back to Spartanburg. Her frustration was that she had to go to work tonight and her daughter still hadn't packed everything and her space was almost gone in her SUV. The plan was to toss what couldn't fit. We chatted and encouraged each other. I met her there, but I left her there. I pray traveling mercies for my sister and a smooth night at work.

I saw a lot of Mamas today, only a few dads. They were driving the vehicles, hauling stuff out, etc..etc..

It made me think of the responsibilities that we have as mothers. From a single mother's perspective, it's rarely a time you can say no-- because we are all our children have in our minds. This mentality is usually that of protection. Not knowing what would hurt more; our, "No" or the disconnected parent's "No." The fact that we do what we have to when we have is often overshadowed by why we do it. The strength of a woman is often the "presumption" that we have to be strong, we must display perseverance and we must go on.

As we embark upon the Mother's Day Holiday, take a day ladies to celebrate your excellence, your uniqueness--celebrate you. Being a mother doesn't equate to giving birth physically, it's the mentality of caring for a child that isn't yours. Providing that motherly instinct when needed. The truth of the matter is I was a "mother" well before the day the doctors cut me on or about 1 pm on that Saturday, November 16, 2002. All those kids, I babysat, changed their diapers, and picked them up from school-- I may have been labeled "Auntie" but it added to my Mom resume.

Ladies, this is a note of appreciation, love, and unity for you. I know how it is. And by "it is" we can write an entire book series with several spinoffs. Hey Mama...hold your head up high. Take a deep breath and know that you got this. I know you are tired at times, frustrated, and torn between empathy and sympathy for the world. I wish you an early Happy Mother's Day. To those who are mourning your Mother, know that her greatness will remain an everlasting memory to you. She may not be here physically, but will always be with you spiritually. In fact, you see a new piece of her each day in you. I wrote this while I was in Orangeburg today and I am just now posting.

#agirlworthfightingfor

#webloggin

#Iwrites

#HappyMuddahsDay

https://www.agirlworthfightingfor.com/2022/05/we-do-what-we-have-to-when-we-have-to.html

Go For It

The last two nights we faced tremendous storms here in South Carolina. Accounts of power outages, severe weather--the weathermen indeed earned their coins.  In fact yesterday, in Moncks Corner, there was a tornado that was formed, but it didn't touch the ground.  Last night as I lay on the couch and listened to the "storm." There were moments when the lightning was so sharp and sounded as if it was about to hit home. There were moments when the thunder rumbled and the ground rattled. There were moments when the wind and rain fought over who would be the loudest and strongest. I at first was watching television, but the constant reminders of the storm and the warnings from the weathermen got tired. I turned it off. Not take the warnings in vain, but it seemed overwhelming. I just felt that it was overkill. I mean I know I was in the midst of a storm. Everyone knew what they personally were enduring and was dealing with it in their own way. I'm old school. Everything was off, except the hallway light. I had my cell phone in my hand, but when that loud crack of lightning hit, that phone got tossed on the couch. When the lightning or thunder would subside, I would pick up the phone again.  I was going against the Southern code. Knowing good and well, if my maternal grandmother was around, that phone would not have been anywhere in my vicinity  After a few strolls of Tik Tok and a couple of games of online spades, I eventually went to sleep after I felt the storm had reached its peak. I was used to the storm and thought I knew what to expect.

This morning, I awoke to the sun peeking through the blinds. I didn't look outside to see what it looked like. I just knew that the sun was confirmation of what was, and was no longer. That what the weathermen said was going to happen, didn't happen to me personally. If I didn't go through the "storm" these last two days, I wouldn't have necessarily known there was a storm. That there were tornadoes, power outages, flooding, or wind damage. I mean, I am sure there are signs of visible damage that's out there, that I haven't seen. Hopefully, power and internet have been restored to those who lost it. Hopefully, those who lost sleep the last two nights will gain it tonight. Hopefully, the damage is minimal for those who experienced it. Hopefully, those who lost peace because of the storms will find it. Today should serve as a reminder that "trouble doesn't last always." It should remind you of the many storms in life you weathered and survived.  I write this as I am sipping the last few drops of coffee in my "go for it" mug.  To whoever is reading this, the storm is over now. Assess your damages, begin your repairs and live as if nothing happened. Go For It. 

#GoForIt #AGirlWorthFightingFor

Scrambled

Over the past week, I began declaring openly the same prayer, mantra, or spell, as some may say. It started with "show me how much better it" and ended with "I am ready." Well, let me say from April 25th to May 1st- God, the Universe, My ancestors, and guardians have been shaking things up. My life has genuinely been scrambled.

In a normal state of mess, I would try my hardest to fix things and people. Over the past week, my mind, body, soul, and discernment urged me to let things be. It seems like, over the past week, my mindset has changed. My embracement of peace is so divine. I can't think of an eclectic way of explaining it. Some of it hurt, but the rest I am in love with.

My focus on things that were on the backburner has now been pulled to the front, and those things that I had been eyeing its completing cooking progression have directly been placed on the warming spot on the stove. I truly learned that no response is a response.

What was so crazy is that as I was cooking breakfast this morning, I had a revelation. I cooked a turkey and cheese omelet with some turkey sausage. The means of preparation for this meal took a lot to get the finished product. I first sautéed some chopped onions, bell peppers, and mushrooms. I usually tear a piece of wax paper and chop my veggies on my cutting board. After chopping my veggies and my turkey meat, the way wax paper was torn and soggy; I could no longer use it after a few flips. There was nothing unused that you could use.This confirmed that some things, some people, some places could no longer serve a purpose in my life because of their state, so I needed to discard them.

I tossed in 3 turkey sausage links as my veggies were sautéing. It didn't take long; I removed the sausage and placed it on a plate.

My next focus was to cook my eggs: my country, ghetto bougie self, only uses free-range brown eggs at this point in my life. I handled the eggs with delicacy. Knowing that the egg's shell is delicate, I have to crack it to get the desired content, but I have to make sure that it isn't exposed before being ready. Seeing the yokes of the eggs in the bowl reminded me of the delicate nature in which we have to handle life's situations. When we open up to specific people or see them for who they are, we don't know what's inside waiting to come out and when it does, how do we cook or handle it?

Finally, I completed the omelet by adding my remaining ingredients. Before I plated the omelet, I threw those three pieces of turkey sausage back on the burner. I needed to reheat it, I know it was warm, but I wanted it hot. This reminded me of revisiting things that I started in the past that I needed to finish while the fire was burning.

This meal was actually for Keith. I returned to the stove and decided that I wanted just a scrambled egg for myself. The frying pan was still greased with olive oil. The burner was still warm. I cracked the egg in the corner of the pan, where a nice pocket of oil was. I didn't turn it back on the burner. The egg cooked just fine without the extra heat and any other additions. Symbolic of often our need as humans to just let things be is evident. Everything that we need is there. The egg may not have cooked as fast as it would have, had I turned on the heat, but it cooked.

I write this as I take the last fork full of my scrambled egg. For those struggling with life, the conditions in which we conquer life don't matter. It's ultimately the finished product that does—prayers for your journey in life. I am ready for mine.

#agirlworthfightingfor #scrambled

Roasted and Salted

Every Wednesday at 5 pm, I have my weekly meeting held on Teams with my Boss. He lives in Washington state. I have only seen him on camera and that's far and few. In fact, he was out of the office for my original interview. I have never met him in person. My Wednesday around 4:59 pm he will send me an email telling me to call when I am ready. If he doesn't type a message he will send a gif. Well, today he typed, "good afternoon, feel free to call anytime, day or night. Operators are standing by."

 

I took a swig of water after finishing up a handful of pumpkin seeds and called him. He answered on the 4th ring. I always say Hey <his name>! He also says well Good Afternoon in his jovial voice. After we asked each other how we were doing, he said that he had a rough day but he was looking forward to our meeting. He said regardless of how you feel Terrie, you always bring energy to our calls. I was looking forward to that to cheer me up. He said every Wednesday that we meet it makes him feel happy. He inquired if it was a Southern thing or the fact that I'm a mom. I said to myself--- SHEED Kailee be getting it!🤣

I gave homage to my first full-time job after college; Suncom. I told him how we were provided mirrors that we hung on our cubicles and we were trained to smile while talking. That brought enthusiasm to the call. We went on to discuss the pros and cons of customer service. Those customers called me everything except Sadie and Jerry's third-born. Those customers that I wanted to turn their phones off and roll by their houses. But one key thing that we both agreed on was that anger from those customers was already there. As a rep, I just happened to be in the wrong place and at the wrong time. My reaction depended on which way the conversation would go. At first, until I got it...I was nasty. But then I learned the nice, nasty way of doing things.

In fact, it reminded me of a customer at another job that I took the call from a now-deceased co-worker. He made threats of coming to our place of employment. I told my co-worker to tell him I will meet him in the middle of Hwy 17 with some flip flops and a tank top before he transferred the call to add a little humor to the situation. After I took the call, I tried to be reasonable with him. But the yelling and all that continued. I finally said to him, that neither myself nor my coworker had done anything to him. When he was ready to talk in a calm, reasonable matter and was ready for a resolution, he could call me back. I provided him with my phone number and disconnected the call. 

He called back several minutes later, apologized and the issue was resolved. He explained to me the "why." Needless to say, a few days later, my department received some gourmet cookies from San Francisco. Now you know I grew up in a house where we talked about roots and all that stuff. I passed on the cookies.

I'm sitting here eating my pumpkin seeds as I type this message.  On the label of the package, it reads "Roasted and Salted" We have to learn to not take things personally and learn from our experiences.  We must not always feel the need to "ROAST" an individual because we feel "SALTY" about a situation.  These pumpkin seeds are small in size, but rich sources of things that are essential for survival. At times we can't reciprocate what's being given to us in some situations. Sometimes walk away and revisit. Other times do nothing. The people that we look for the most praise may never give it to us. But it's the people that we least know when they give us praise, it's greatly appreciated. Take this seed and use it as a source for your peaceful bloom. Use Good Sense.

#AGirlWorthFightingFor

#WeBlogg

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/2906878319470775573/1869870001178346652

One

Today marks my one-year anniversary with my employer. On December 31, 2020, my employer of almost three years laid me off, due to my project not being renewed. I was told that I could go to another project, but that didn't happen. Dates kept getting pushed back. Communication became null. For the first time in decades, I found myself without a full-time job. Sad that I left a job where I worked with an amazing group of people. I actually had I job that I liked. But there was truly nowhere for me to go and maintain that level of enjoyment. Sometimes we're at jobs or in situations, where it requires us to look beyond the good to realize the bad.

I had great job leads, interviews, and offers. I declined certain jobs because I remembered past jobs and vowed never to repeat that cycle. I was on a mission for PEACE at this stage in my life. I had worked hard for organizations and disrupted my personal life. I made sacrifices all for the sake of being labeled a good/hard worker for companies that definitely deserve it. In fact, I referred to them as "plantations". I stayed out in the field doing most of the work. I never had the desire to be "with the house crowd" which is usually the reason why people often question who did I think I was. I didn't think but knew who I was and what I did and could do. So I continued my searches and endured the rejections.

Most importantly, I remembered my prayers and his promises. For years I always said, I desired a work-from-home job, my baby to attend college without paying a dime, and my declaration of love with someone who gets me and got me.

For one job I interviewed for, I did everything by the book. They loved my personality and were impressed by my skills; I never heard anything. I recall a prayer for me, and the words weren't "give her this job" but "give her the job that you see fit."

Not working gave me a time of reflection and availability. Things fell into place. I never skipped a beat with anything. I started doing some consulting. I found myself revisiting some old bridges, only to realize that nothing changed. In actuality, it was time to burn that bridge to ensure that I never crossed it again. I discovered a new me that saw a different me and I liked her.

During those few months, my support was amazing. There was never a conversation that didn't start off with asking if I needed anything and before the dial tone, the assurance to call if indeed I did. It was during this time of so-called defeat, I experienced many victories.

Then low and behold, while being petty on Facebook, I was contacted by a friend. They asked if I was working, and I said, "no." Weeks later I was offered a job working in higher education and at home. Those who know me, know how I love higher education, particularly the student side. I'm a motivator, but I give it to you straight with no chaser. I want to see you succeed. But at the same time, if you don't want my motivation, I conserve my energy for those who do. These days, it's easier to walk away from certain storms, Instead of weathering them.

I type this post while sitting in front of my work computer in my office at home, waiting on my coffee to finish brewing. Cheers to perseverance, tenacity, and faith. Thanksgiving to those that saw fit to whisper my name in a prayer. I am a true and living testimony that "I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging for bread." To anyone reading this long post and you are in a season of uncertainty, hold on. Someone is watching. Someone is standing in the gap for you. It's a temporary setback for an enormous comeback.

#itsmyanniversary #ContinuedBlessings #continuedprayers #bestillandprosper #agirlworthfightingfor

 

TARRY

I left the chiropractor this morning and was headed home. I stopped to get a salad from one of my favorite spots in the area. I walked in expecting to see the usual friendly old lady behind the counter, instead there was someone else who I never interacted with before. She made it known that they were out of large lids for the drinks. I told her it was no problem. She asked my name for the order and I gave it to her. I received my  drunk cup and proceeded to load up on ice and lemons, as I waited for my order.

I observed the employees preparing the food and figured out who had my ticket. The sister made my food correct and passed it down the line. I didn't get my order quick enough to my liking. I was rushing. I kept on looking at my ring doorbell to peep the scene of parking spaces. Someone was in the space that I deemed as my park and I was a little salty. I figured if I hurried, I would have a chance to get another good park. I lost track of my order. A young lady came from kitchen and handed my bag after confirming my order.

I turned around to put my extras in my bag, since I didn't have a lid and noticed how the cashier had spelled my name on my ticket. It read, "TARRY."

I was in the vicinity of Target and decided to head there. I had some items I needed to return and items to purchase. As I approached a stop sign, I saw an employee pushing in a trail of buggies. Now for those of you who don't use the word buggy; it's a shopping cart.

He immediately put his hand out to tell me to stop. I was actually stopped, but I was about to make a left down an aisle in search of a park. In my mind Between, I could make my turn. Between the brightness of the red from the stop sign, the employees' uniform and the buggies, it symbolized a warning, so I stayed in place.

I really felt this young man doing his job and me waiting 3 seconds extra was going to "delay" me from getting a good park. Not to mention, there was a car facing me, who I "expected" was going interfere as well. When the employee was clear from traffic, the car actually let me turn.

As I drive down the aisle, I see no "good" parking spaces. I make a right in between some vacant spaces and head up the next aisle. I see nothing ahead of me. I began to "linger into the expectation" that I was not going to find a good spot and had to walk a long distance to the entrance.

There was a car ahead of me. I saw a car backing out of a space. My first thought was "Damn, they're going to get that good space! If I was only a few seconds earlier!" I continued down the aisle, only to discover that the car in front me passed by the space and no other car had entered the entrance closest to the space.

I'm writing this as I am parked in the third space, from the first aisle immediately behind the designated handicap parking spaces. I just looked at my ring and discovered my space is free. I am "tarrying" as I type this.

For those who feel like you have been delayed in life, you are not. In essence if I had not obtained the close space or my favorite space, all that I set out to accomplished was going to get done. It may have been a little late because I had to walk a further distance. It may have been a little rocky, because I had to carry some heavy things and I didn't have a direct route to a door.

But truth is, I still can get those things in the door even if I had to make more than one trip. So I say to you, be positive as you are lingering in your expectations as to what you desire in life. It may not turn out how you want it, when you want or where you want it, but it will turn out for your good. 

In the meantime: Wait. Abide. Stay in or at a place of peace, knowing that you will get all that your are supposed to get. TARRY.

BUMP

It's been a while since I wrote. It's my therapy. There were times when I felt like I was on edge of a panic attack or breakdown, but that smooth writing pen and cute journal allowed me to put my thoughts and make sense of my current life's situation. Over the past few months of losing my full-time job on December 31st with nothing lined up was concerning. I had my moments were I was scared. All I could think of was Kailee graduating, college tuition, and my plans for life that were delayed when my mom was diagnosed with cancer.

I wasn't totally without income when I was laid off.I was  working part-time and opened up my own consulting company. I had a plan. I didn't put it out there like I was supposed to and everytime I was, something would happen. I was able to secure a few contracts for  months in advance. I was collecting unemployment and never skipped a beat.

I interviewed with a few companies. Even with needing a job, I refused to work at another organization working 60 hours of my good work ethics a week only to be rewarded with an off brand ham during the holidays.One company seemed too eager to hire me. I came up with an excuse for the second interview. One company wanted me to do a project, which was more intense than my capstone project for graduate school, I came with an excuse for that too. I couldn't tell you how many connections were involved from people being from Charleston to someone's mother being a Zeta I experienced. I was very confident that something would fall through.

I never heard back from these confident,  knock up out the box interviews, even after sending thank notes and damn near baking a pound cake for the office. I embraced my downtime. Low and behold, I was being petty posting on Facebook one day and a friend/former coworker reached out and asked if I wanted working. What was funny is she said, she hard ever gets on Facebook, but she did that day.. I told her I wasn't working, I sent her my resume and the rest was history. I got hired in less than a month. Back in higher education, working from home PERMANENTLY!

My intentions today were to drop Kailee off to work, grab breakfast and journal on the Battery. My acid reflux was really showing her arse this morning. The heat and eating don't go too well with me. I realized that I didn't really eat that much other than a few of those air fryer Argentine shrimp I made last night after lunch yesterday. So now gas and acid reflux having a good old time.

I wanted grits and sausage. I pulled up and went with cheese grits and eggs instead. My diverted intentions were now to get a cup of coffee and snackin bacon. The drive thru was long. I pulled in a park, grabbed my purse, threw on a baseball cap and mask and scurried to beat the other two individuals who had my same thoughts. I was next in line. I saw Sister Girl from the drive thru behind the register. She was gathering the customer in front of me food. She totaled his order and received an error message. She tried all she could to get the system working, it just wouldn't. To add to her frustration, she was told the grill was down. She finally made a clutch decision to only accept cash, since the credit card machine would not work. By now the line inside was just as long as the one was outside. When she made the announcement "cash only", that cleared all except for the customer in front of me, myself and two other individuals behind me. 

I placed my order and went on a whim and ask for bacon, she confirmed the grill was still down. I only ordered coffee. I accepted what was going and made do. Sister Girlnwas already frustrated  and what good would that have done to be mad at something out of her control. Sister Girl then discovered that the orders weren't being transmitted to the back to be made. After another sigh of frustration, she locked the door and no one else could enter. There were people approaching the door, she told them what happened and they walked off with a plethora of negative comments.

She went back and she fixed my coffee last. She told me she was making it and I told her no problem. She asked if I wanted everything that came with it. She told me the ingredients and I frowned, she assured me it would be good. I confirmed she remembered my almond milk. As she was finishing up a customer was locking the door for her. He told a few people the lobby was closed. They walked off as another lady walked up and saw what happened. The door was locked. She remained outside the door. I finally got my coffee and she said, "I'm going to walk you out so that I can Iock the door."

The customer was waiting, Sister Girl told her that the lobby was closed. Her "Karenish" response didn't phase Sister Girl at all. I saw the preparation of a "Oh I got time today" conversation, but the customer stormed off. Sister Girl had a venting session with me for a few seconds. We laughed at the way the customer stormed off, but I assured her that inspite of, it was going to be a good day. Sister Girl told me to come back to get some bacon on her later.

I got in my truck and headed to my spot. I began to think of my life and how truly blessed I am despite of the many bumps I encountered over the course of my life. In one week, the child that I was not supposed to have. The child that I was raising wrong. The child that would call me on my desk phone at work to get help with her homework. The child that I would take to work and lock up in my office with food and books is graduating, ranked 16th out 81 students in her class with a 4.450 GPA.

In preparation for our new chapter of life the blessings have been flowing. I'm at point in my life where I am truly reaping what I sowed and so is my child.What is amazing is that, I can remember when people doubted my parenting skills. I can remember when people told me that I would be miserable because I stood true to my beliefs and fought for others. I can remember the pain of feeling used. I remember accepting "Graveyard" relationships as my grandmother would call them. You know the ones, where you always put out and they always take in. Nothing ever comes out of Graveyard, it only goes in.

It wasn't until my latter years, that I adopted reciprocity in relationships. I now treat people the same way they treat me. I give them the same energy they give me. I realized that I am not for everyone. I am a special individual who is sensitive in many realms, particularly a spiritual realm. Everyone don't deserve it. Everyone ain't gonna get it.

I have been so full and just amazed by the love and outpouring of the individuals in my live as Kailee prepares for college. To hear people say I have your back and truly have your back is a blessing. To have conversations with people and talk about things that you need to do or need, and to get a call back and it's done, is mind blowing.

I'm eating the best damn serving of eggs I had since hatches was a saw and drinking this butter pecan latte, as I serve as living witness to surviving the bumps in life. I went thru those bumps for this season. The roads were rough, but they eventually even out and it's smooth ride. There we're many bumps that I could have avoided, because the signs were there. Then there were those bumps, that I rolled over on an angle but caused damage in the long run, but I repaired those damages.

To whomever reads this, this is your encouragement.

Marked Down

The way the sun rose this morning was anything less than amazing. I figured out what was for breakfast. I said I would get some grits to eat the left over shrimp and gravy in the fridge. I headed to Bojangles. I remembered not to order that sausage patty 😬! I got to the window it was the same sister that last time that I was there who was upset with scheduling. Over her shoulders was the same brother, finessing those biscuits, laying eggs, cheese and the sexiest slices of bacon in the 843 area code. My total was a $1.43. I handed over one of my many gift cards I've received throughout the years. This time sister girl was in a good mood. We didn't have a conversation because we she had to take an order. Our interaction ending with that universal head tilt, nod, wave equivalent to "Aight Sis!" I'm glad I didn't stereotype her based on our last interaction. That should hit home for somebody.😏

I remembered that I had to go buy some ingredients to make Keith's Sunday meal: lima beans with smoked turkey and baked chicken. Analyzing what stores I wanted to hit, I realized that my recently purchased grits would be cold and my bougie self does not, I repeat does not eat reheated grits.

I made my way to Dunkin Donuts. I ordered some more Avocado toast. I didn't see that refresher drink I usually ordered, so I went with sweet tea. When I got to the window, I paid for my meal. A sister came out the back and we started talking. She asked me how I liked the Avocado toast. I said I liked it and yesterday was my first time. She said I had to come see who was at the window, because by your voice I could tell it was one of us. <Insert I feel you girl point> We then went on to talk about recommendations from my next order, my journey of giving up snackin bacon and we shared our good byes until next time.

Since I enjoyed The Battery yesterday, and I have a lot of stuff to do today, my early morning adventure is hitting the markdowns at the grocery stores. I've been doing this for years. Now, I even got Keith asking me what deals I found. If I find something good, I usually take pictures and send to my peoples to see if they want it. If it's a deal I can't pass by, I will purchase and drop it off to them.

My love for markdowns is a fascination of mine. Not only does it have to do with budgeting and stocking the freezer, it sheds light on life. At one point and time that pack of chicken or those pair of shoes were placed on that shelf or rack at full price with the intentions to sell quickly, in which some did. Some people purchased the items without cost or looks in mind. It was something that they wanted or deemed needed. It could have been an impulse buy in which those shoes are still in the closet never worn or that meat sat in the fridge or freezer too long.

The remaining items went on sale, and some items were sold. Someone took into consideration  how the items looked and the cost, before making a commitment. 

Then those  items that didn't sell as fast as the others went on a final sale. These items labeled differently. They are often bright stickera showing the original price marked through and the final price. These items are non-returnable because the shelf life is coming to an end.

I look for those bright labeled few items each weekend. Why? Because those items are equivocal to people in my sight. Each day I see my single friends share experiences of finding the right mate, hopes of walking down the aisle and wanting a good relationship. But society tells us that we have to do it before a certain age.. Having being single for over five years before entering my current relationship. I felt just like that marked down pack of chicken on the self. I knew my worth, but I let others put a price on me. I'm supposed to be this by that. But what I started looking at was how much I saved by avoiding some relationships and I was grateful I wasn't picked up my some.

I type this as I'm sitting in Harris Teeter parking lot, finishing off my sweat tea. Just because you're older, you have kids, you've had failed relationships, someone won't let you bury your past or you don't feel as you have arrived, doesn't not take away from the fact of your original worth. The fact that what we do with these items vary based on when, why, how, and who purchased them.

Someone is going to see you and your worth, and be amazed that they found a premium being for little or nothing being looked over time and time again. They will know what to do with you, because it's something that they wanted or they were looking for.

Hey sis! Hey bro! Someone is coming to scoop you off the shelf.

#thinkingoutloud #biggirlswrite

Detours

On my weekend morning me time adventure, my thoughts were preoccupied with breakfast. Beginning this month, Kailee and I decided to change our eating habits. Kailee would cut out the majority of her carbs, junk food, eat more salads and have a few cheat days a month. I would go  the pescatarian route. I noticed the things I did pre-40s hormonal imbalances times aint working like they used to. Today would have been a perfect day for some bacon. My southern lunch lady arm mindset reminiscent of Saturday breakfast made me want bacon, sausage, grits, eggs or that left over piece of fried fish or shrimp and gravy, Granny had cooked embracing her Catholic lifestyle to attend local schools a century ago. But that was not happening.

I'm riding down Savannah Highway thinking of what I can eat and all the places that come to mind, the foods that come to mind have meats that are not within my pescatarian scope. I finally decide to go to Dunkin Donuts to try the Avocado toast, which was actually good.

As I make my way home, I remember I have a meeting at 11 am. I needed my me time at my thinking spot: The Battery. It was raining but I could see the sun peaking out. The birds were still flying as normal. I saw a few fish poke their head out the water, the animals didn't let the rain stop them, so why should I?

My usual route was unavailable due to construction being done at the Battery. I took several side streets until I found a path that would lead me to where I needed to be. The parking was ridiculous and I contemplated heading on home. Instead I made a u-turn and followed the signs that were posted almost on every block. Those signs were bright orange with the word "DETOUR" across it. When I got back to where I originally started, a vehicle had moved and I now had a good spot.

As I'm typing this I am finishing up my drink from Starbucks that the barista added lemonade that I didn't ask for, but I thoroughly enjoyed. In life we have habits that we need to break. In life we have to stop focusing on wants and start focusing on needs. What worked for granny and those, won't work for you. Oh a word to the wise our Elders ain't always right! We are in different times and must adapt to these different situations.

Sometimes our mindset is so crippled by what we are used to, that the universe throws DETOURS in life to experience new things and to break habits. We cannot limit ourselves or our children  in these times. Do something different. Explore new things. Be open minded. Follow the signs. Life gave me a refreshing cup of lemonade this morning...😏

Mawning! 

#thinkingoutloud

Clappery

Clappery

Sir please understand….I’m not a video vixen. I do understand that I am one of millions who possess the tenth wonder of the world…a big butt.

I can remember being 10 years old, my mother and grandmother coordinated their efforts and purchased me my first long line girdle. It came from Peggy's. It was black. I can still see it folded in that shiny thin brown paper bag.  I was confused as to why. I thought this was something that only women wore. On Sundays, I saw my mother and grandmother transform they bodies into to effortless silhouettes. The foundations of this old school “snatched” as we call it today were a long line brazier, long line girdle, two large safety pins and a long line slip. The brazier straps left permanent scars and indents on my mother and grandmother’s shoulders. To put this brazier on… let me use the shorten term for those who aren’t following me. To put this bra on, you have to understand the dynamics of this piece of garment. The bra was long enough to cover your back. It would graze the top of your hips. The bra reminded me of a straight jacket kind of. You would put this on, then connect about 20 hooks in the front. You then made sure your breasts were in the right compartments. I swear my mama and granny breasts looked like armed torpedoes. After putting on hosiery, the girdle was next. It sometimes took two people to help get the girdle up. Pins were used to secure the girdle and bra on the sides. The get up was adorned by a slip.

I wanted to know why I had to get a girdle. The response was so that you wouldn’t look “slack.” The fact of the matter is at a young age my hips were that of a grown woman. My butt had a mind of its own. My granny would say, “Dollie ya boonkey is move so.” Pure Clappery at age 10. The way my butt moved , it was if I had my own theme music. It took time to get adjusted to wearing a girdle. In my mind, it was only appropriate to wear when I wore a skirt or dress. My grandmother wanted me to wear it every day. She wanted me to wear it when I wore dungarees. I remember one time wearing them under my jeans, and having to explain to someone what the bends and creases were in my jeans. It was the crease showing where the girdle ended. I lied. I told her I wore bicycle pants under my jeans. She wanted to know why I did that? Girl bye. Mama told me I didn’t have to wear my girdle under pants, but I knew when it came to skirts and dresses I had to wear that damn girdle. The girdle was introduced to me at a young age to shape my body. I don’t know how, I was shapely at a young age. The girdle trained my body to fall in place, where the laws of gravity were denied.

What I disliked about that girdle was the fact that it was hot in the summertime and it was extra clothes I had to take off when it was time to go to the bathroom. For longevity, my girdle never saw the insides of a dryer.  That girdle had to keep my composure intact. Even with the girdle doing its job, the one think it could not disseminate was the eyes and imagination of a man. I remember being around 12 years old walking down King Street with my grandmother. We were enroute to Edward's Nickel and Dime store to get those chicken wings and fries. I had an admirer. I remember having on a jeans skirt walking a head of my granny. I was so free until I was fool. I can distinctly hear my grandmother who has been deceased for over twenty years say, “When ya get done, dat’s a twelve year old child who boonkey ya lookin at ya! Mine fa ya ass go da jail!” I don’t know who was embarrassed more, me or him.

As I got older, I was delightful I didn’t develop large breasts like other females in my family. Lord knows having double D breasts and a large butt was an invitation to being a whore in someone’s eyes.  Sad but the truth, women who are curvaceous in these days and times are cherished on a different level than the average chick. With the likes of reality television shows in which women don’t get noticed unless their breasts can stand attention on first command, their waist is about the size of their neck side or smaller and their buttocks looks like a perfect Georgia peach spray painted life size on the side of an abandoned building. For the very thing that my maternal guardians tried to conceal, women are paying thousands of dollars to get. I can recall an article about K. Michelle having to have surgery to remove her butt implants because of the pain she was having. She stated that her legs could not support her butt. As a result she was having Lupus like symptoms. She was scheduled to have surgery this month, I pray healing virtue to you my sister.

Here it is over 30 years later, a few years ago the Lord heard and answered the prayers of us curvaceous women and placed it on someone’s heart to create Spanx. I swear if it was possible to shout in the middle of this sentence and let you see I would. In the words of Toni Braxton, I can breathe again! Spanx doesn’t make you lose weight. It minimizes the clappery action when your walking and it creates a smooth silhouette.

If I never learned anything with the men that I have dated, they could give a damn about girdles.  In fact, we as women beat up ourselves over looks. When the average guy is extremely satisfied with what he sees. I have plenty of male friends, because I’m cool like that. I never crossed the line, never will. There are guys who are on this earth that I am have profound relationships with that are more in-depth that my Burns/Baldwin lineage. I appreciate them for our levels of communication and heart to heart talks. I swear we tell each other trade secrets of the opposite sex. I was told a time or two that a man can determine a woman’s shape by looking at her. To further explain, a dude saw a picture of me and said, “ I could tell you had an ass from the front.” Then another dude told me out right, “ you can lose anything, but please don’t lose that backside.” I questioned what would happen. He said he would leave. Well he never made it past the preliminary stages.

There are men who study the physicalities of a female. Big Beautiful Women or BBW are really being recognized these days. I never had a problem attracting the opposite sex, but now…Hunty…BBWs are taking over. That same fat chick that got also sorts of curve balls in high school is now desired by many. What made this happen? Reality television shows? More confident women? I don’t know…I don’t care. But please hear me when I say that we are more than the dimensions of our bodies. Yesssssss….I have a waist that’s smaller than my hips. But I also have conversation and I am highly intelligent. No I’m not going to not get to know you and begin a sexual relationship with you to possibly live out a scene in your favorite rapper's video. No, I am not the only chick with a big butt. There is no way for me to hide this. Therefore I will not. There will be some days when I want to wear some tight jeans, a fitting dress or a short skirt. On those days, I give you permission to look, but please don’t yell out a “Goooo-red!”, a “Gewd Gawd”, or a “Goddamn!”. Some women like that attention, some do not. Use your inside voices if possible or go old school and hit us with a, “ You are one bad woman” line. That way I can give thanks and walk off to my personal theme music in my head. Make your approach respectful and you get a good response when approaching a woman. Don’t get mad if your disrespectful is matched. No we’re not stuck up, we just want a different approach because we’re not that chick. I can’t speak for all, I’m speaking for me.

If it was possible, women with big butts, should have a label across our backsides saying, “ please handle with extreme caution, beware of clappery.”

Terrie L.” AuthenticGeechieGurl” Burns

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ttp://www.agirlworthfightingfor.com/

Da 'umball tays da grace

It's been over two decades since my grandmother has left this earth. I paid homage to her by using her name as my daughter's middle name. I learned a lot of wisdom, humor and love from my grandmother. Now that was my ride or die until my summer year going into my junior year in high school. It's been that long, but I can still hear her heavy Geechee accent. One of her favorite sayings was, " da umball child tays da grace." Translated into English, "The humble child tastes the grace."

Now this colloquialism isnt hard to understand at all. I'm quite sure you have heard it many of times. If you're humble you will receive blessings. Hence tasting the grace. My friends I can tell you that grace and its friend mercy are always good to have around.

Even with my migraines and the 1 million, nine hundred thousand and twenty items on my mind, I had to get myself right for Kailee's school orientation today. I ironed her khakis with that heavy duty Niagra starch. She said she didn't want any creases. She's far from old school, because you know we would have had a crease so sharp it could have cut butter. I told her if she wanted to, I would add some extra curls to her hair. She declined.

Last night she took her time putting in her flexi rods, using certain sizes to get that look. I laid on the couch until the last moment to get ready. I took a migraine pill and filled my bootleg Yeti cup-- the Aladdin with ice, water and a fresh slice of ginger. I figured if I got sleepy during orientation, I would have 30 ounces of water to keep me up because of going to the bathroom. I packed her bags of schools supplies they wanted everyone to bring. Hand sanitizer, wipes, gloves, dry erase markers and Kleenex tissues. I called Kailee downstairs.

She looked different than she did yesterday. I bought her some costume jewelery while in Kohls. It was $5. It was a pair of cubic zirconia studs with a necklace with a "K" initial. Her first words were, "Thank you mom for the gift." I said, "You're welcome. Do you need help putting it on?" At first she declined, but later asked for assistance. When we got outside, I told her I have to take a picture of you. She humbly obliged.

It was mandatory for orientation that she wore her school uniform. She has to wear navy blue polos and khakis. Out of all the pictures I took of her I can see her maturity and independence present. We got to the school, she went in line to take her school pictures by herself. As we circulated the many stations, she struck up a conversation with everyone. When she meet her school administrator, she gave her a firm grip, introduced herself and said, "I aspire to become the class valedictorian." The administrator gave her a high five and had a conversation with her as I was signing her up for various activities.

When we got to another station, the principal looked at my baby's name and pronounced it incorrectly. You have to understand, my kid has been correcting people since she has been able to talk who says her name incorrectly. The funny thing is she still makes the same facial expressions and nods her head as if she is breaking down syllables as I taught her back then. She wasn't rude about the correction, but she got her point across and was able to get a laugh out of the situation. 

The administrator came up behind her, placed her arms on her introduced her to the principal and said, "Kailee said she is going to be the valedictorian of her class." Everyone encouraged her and gave her praises.

As we progressed in the line, I was prepared to pay $140 in fees. Yeah...high school is different. Only to be charged $40 for PE uniforms and a locker fee. The $100 was waived. #butGod. We finally got to the end of the stations to get her schedule. It dawned on me that I have a high schooler. Kailee had a biomedical class that we requested to be changed to Pre-Engineering. We had to make some changes to classes because of transfer credits. When we were finally done, we went outside and she chatted with her BFFs from middle school. What was so crazy is originally only one of them got in and now they are all attending the same high school. My daughter has been attending school with one of BFFs since first grade.

I asked Kailee last week if she wanted me to walk her into school on the first day, she said, "No. Not unless you want to mom." I smirked but felt some kind of way. But I couldn't. My kid will be 15 this year. In November, it will be 15 years that I delivered a baby girl that wasn't supposed to be here. The doctor told me that it would be hard for me to have children. That's what he said. Not that I was trying. But he said that to let me know in advance. Months later my deceased grandmother brought me a baby girl on my dreams. That baby girl on my dream looked exactly how Kailee Rebecca looked when she entered this earth on November 16, 2002 at 1:12 pm. 

I sent my baby's picture out to a few of my friends. One of the responses was
"Yes mam, always got her lifted in prayers from the enemy. Bless year even the more for her." My advice to you is, if you don't have praying, encouraging friends you don't have a friend.

As much as life has attempted to get the best of me, my eyes has always been in the prize. To be the best mother that I can be.  While using what I was taught. I can say that I have been blessed beyond measure by being humble. I raise my daughter to respectful, appreciative and 'umball. She's not into all the designer stuff. As a matter of fact, yesterday I bought her 4 pairs of sneakers from Burlington Coat factory for $120. All old school sneakers. Her first words was "thank you mom, but you don't have to get me all those shoes." When she was selecting her shoes, the first thing she looked at was the prices. I think she has this ball on budget thing down packed.

I know that the prayers of my ancestors have been answered. I pray that my child continues to assimilate what I teach her as well as I live a life that she can emulate for my grandchildren. I pray that I remain humble.

I send positive vibes and fervent prayers to the teachers, students, administrators for the upcoming school year.

Battle

   Margaree and Sadie always taught me to wash dishes by adding bleach to the water. We always had a bottle of cheap bleach and a bottle of Clorox in the house. The cheap bleach was used to clean out the trash can, wash dishes etc. The Clorox was for clothes only. Every couple of weeks, my skin would peel. I tried using gloves to wash dishes. It didn’t matter it peeled. I picked and I picked the dead skin off of one hand, until one day there was no more skin left in an area. It took a couple of days before I could use that hand without the pain.

Palmar Plantar Erythrodysesthesia is the medical terminology for hand and foot syndrome. This is a side effect of chemotherapy. Last week Thursday, Sadie had her usually flare up of hand and foot syndrome. It usually comes around on the last few days denoting the end of her chemotherapy cycle. Well the oncologist decided to increase her dosage of chemotherapy. This was her second cycle since ringing the bell ending radiation. This one was rough. Around Thursday of last week, the pain associated with hand and foot syndrome was beginning to be unbearable. She got an emergency appointment on Friday of last week. Her doctor increased her pains meds from 100mg to 300 mg. To combat the hand and foot syndrome, we attempted to keep her hands and feet moisturized. We’ve tried everything from Aquafor, Shea Butter, Coconut Oil, to Vaseline. The doctor recommended Crisco shortening. I went into Food Lion and purchased some.
The chemotherapy has in essence made all of her skin on her hands and feet peel off. The doctors told Sadie, that if she wants to go rob a bank she could right now, because she has no fingerprints. If you look at the surface of her hands and fingernails, they are dark but smooth.  She used to polish her nails to cover the change of color of her nails. But she has stopped, out of fear of her fingernails falling off. None have fell off though. I often catch her staring at her hands and feet, looking at how drastically they have changed within a few months. She used to make comments about how bad her hands and feet look, I told her nobody cares about that except for her. I reminded her that she was still able to use her hands and feet and she was still alive. The pain associated with this flare up last week was bad. Sadie made reference to going in the hospital to cope with the pain. She didn’t move out of her bed much. Walking on her feet was a burning, tingling painful sensation that she describes. Her hands had pain also. She couldn’t real touch anything and felt no feelings on her fingernails.

Sadie has been on chemotherapy since around January/February. Capectabine also known as Xeloda is the name of her medication. She takes the chemotherapy pills twice a day. Two pills in the morning and two pills at night. Fourteen days on. Seven days off. She is careful to coat her stomach well to prevent nausea. For the past 6 months, Quaker grits and Libby Corned beef is what she eats for those two weeks in the morning. One can of corned beef will last her 5 days that way I slice and bag it in the snack sandwich bags and freeze them. The corned beef, not the corned beef hash.

She only eats with plastic forks and spoons. The metal silverware, leaves a metallic taste in her mouth. When we go out to restaurants, we have to request plastic utensils. The servers often forget. We usually have to ask two times on the average. The waitress yesterday brought it back instantly, I gave her a good tip yesterday. I usually wait on her until she gets her utensils so we can eat together. At home we use paper plates and cups. Her food, we heat up in the toaster oven, regular oven or on top of the stove. We watch the expiration dates carefully. I learned how to cook a smaller pot now. We may have leftovers for a day at the most.

Yesterday after leaving the doctor, Sadie wanted to go out to eat. As tired as I was, we went to Outback Steakhouse. Even with the noticeable limp from the pain and the fact that she greased her hands 3 times from doctor’s office to Outback, she was determined to go out. I dropped her and Kailee off in front of the restaurant. At the table she said, she wanted to feel better so that we can go out to eat more like we used to before she got sick. Prior to her getting sick, we would eat out at this particular buffet every month. Sadie, Dollie and Kailee. We would sometimes invite other people with us, but no too often. That’s our place. While at the table at Outback, she asked me what I was getting, I told her I wanted  steak. I showed her a special menu. She ordered steak, baked potato and crab legs. As the waitress was taking our orders, I asked questions about the preparation of the food and its ingredients just to make sure, because it ain’t nothing but a thing for me to go home and whip her up a meal. I got a steak, salad and broccoli. My salad came. She was looking at it hard. I shared some with her. She kept on saying, “I ain wan eat all your food. I said, “Ma, get some more!” And that she did. Prior to cancer we would eat off of each others plate and drink behind each other like it was nothing. It was a point during this journey, that she didn’t want us to eat or drink after her. I squashed that. I told her that she didn’t have Ebola and to stop that. I always share something with her, real fast I’ll say “Ma, taste this!” I push it off to her so fast, that she can’t say no.

When her food came, it was too painful for her to scrap the walls of her baked potato, cut her steak or crack her crabs legs. I immediately took her plate, mixed up her baked potato, cut up her steak and cracked her crab legs. She said, “I’m sorry you have to do this for me. If I had known this, I wouldn’t have ordered it.” I told her to stop that. It was at the moment, that  I remembered an event that happened over thirty five years ago. I remember Sadie and I going to eat at the Trawler restaurant in Mt. Pleasant. It’s no longer opened. I remember having my ribbon in my hair, and my romper that every little girl wears that ties on the shoulders. Mama had an afro. I remember the distinct roundness to it. I was sitting next to mama without a care in the world. I felt so safe and happy. Mom had just cut my food up for me and I was eating. Then all of a sudden, the waitress spilled an entire tray of drinks on my mom and I. I even remembered how Sadie acted. Those words are unfit for a Sadiesm.

It was at that very moment, Sadie acted like an alley cat at that restaurant, that as long as she had life in her body she would protect me. There is no amount of money in the world that I can ever have that could repay her for all that she has done for me. It was puzzling why my mama was diagnosed with stage 2 stomach and stage 3 gallbladder cancer in December 2016. But then its unfair to say that when many people have lost their a love one to cancer. I won’t lie to you. I asked God why? I never got  sound answer. But I know that, he will never put more on us that we can bear. And if I had to be in battle, I would definitely want Sadie to be one of my soldiers. The cancer may have wounded her, but we are defeating this. We have to remember, there are many battles that take place for a brief moment and the there are some that last years. Regardless of the length of time, we seek victory. Victory is what I am claiming for her complete healing. While we are battling cancer, I just want mama to feel safe and happy like she made me feel that day at the Trawler restaurant. I want her to know that as long as I have life in this body, I will protect her. I am thankful for many of you that reached out to us during this time. I pray that you will be blessed as you have blessed us.

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