10mg of music and an eyespoonful of nature

The children are still out for the holidays and everything is scattered about. Sometimes I have to take a minute and just breath. Music is my temporary antidote.

Although, the tree has lost all of its foliage I'm still able to espy the beauty in it and all of its neighboring trees.

Frost bites

The cool winds are working overtime: blowing up women skirts and exposing theIr unmentionables, being evil to the slicksters who envy Donald Trumps hideous hairdo, sending me to the curb several times on trash day, giving the thin the skinny on the new car- WIND, for free. And last but not least, holding my motivation to be consistent with my daily cardio hostage (causing several altercations with my jeans and my hips).

Although, it has been a bit nippy outdoors, the marvelous works of God have been my medicine on those not so jocund days.

Birds in an empty room? ( A Prose)

If only for a while, I've somewhat learned what it means to have that void. To have someone whose heart pines away for you only to find yourself fagging to evince love at a breathless 60 minute pace. Then, you're left in breathless wonder knowing that they are blindly combing for an exorcised band, disposable comb, and half washed clothes that have been routinely threaded with someone else's. They've equated you with this 'someone else as if you were Siamese twins. You now open and shut a door to an empty room no longer wondering why the sky is BLUE or why the two birds you once heard belting, are no longer there. You ask yourself, was there really two? That's only before you hold the picture in the frame of someOne who sits next to another framed picture of an afflictive heart, mechanical breathes, and the cruelest state on the map, Mental Uncertainty. Then and only then you have hope that your love is still the oxygen that keeps his heart beating for you. Void Less.

(To my beautiful gift. Breathing love)

Stillborn Superhero's

He told lies through dipping eyes
And a face with a lour
Like a turbulent wind blustering through
Lightless skies.
Yet, there is a voice in my head
That holds a ladle and scoops the
Remainder of my liquefied addled heart
And JELLS it that, I am nothing
Without him.
It hurts so much but he still bleeds my blood.
So why doesn't he just give me a little love?

I will never let go of the day he and I met
His eyes never peered at me
But I held him so tightly I could
Hear him concentrating on
How love had immediately
Murdered cold comfort.

He must stop disbanding vows, scourging innocence
And just give me a little love.

His fairytale, in no wise will come to be.
Yet, if I could I would insulate him
From the pain of knowing that
His superhero, doesn't exist...Only on a numbered page.

I'll be everything he wants and needs
Only if he'll allow me, stop taking, and just give a little love.
(Another day in the mind of a mother with an ADHD child. Every day is a constant battle)

Sluiced hearts

I'm crying his tears
I'm crying my tears
Too many, soon to drown in a natural disaster

Strumming my pain with far and in between silent steps
Heartache has trained my mind to swallow the cloudburst
Of crestfalleness

Engulfed in the same waters
We both are laggardly watching
The waters deleteriously decouple

Outreached hands are sundered
By storm surges muscling on the oceans surface

(A day in the life of a mother with an ADHD child trying to hold on to soundness and hope)

The slow jogger w/wet shoes is throwing in the towel

Today my husband and I were back on schedule. Full workout mode. Speaking of which for the past couple of weeks, I have gotten acclimated to doing cardio by myself, which means I love a good 25 2 1/2 powerwalk on the streets verses the wooded trails. My husband says that the concrete is harsh on his knees. Therefore, he prefers a quick, heart racing jog in the trails where the grass is often dewy enough to dirty up my shoes and wet my socks. Not only that, the ground is unleveled and I often find myself swaying from side to side to keep from twisting my ankle.

My husband is very competitive so if I am even near him, which I'm usually not because he jogs too fast, he speeds up and continues with the irritation, "Come on. Get your heart racing." it's more like get it stopping if I don't slow down at my own pace. Initially, the morning jogs were awesome. I enjoyed the company, conversations, and security. However, I think it's time to start back hitting the pavement by myself. I am a hypochondriac and I think my heart is still thinking about having an attack.

Until next time go at it at your own speed.

Freckled, dots, and connections

One day we saw that we were baptizing ourselves in the ignorance and naivete of other’s insecurities and decided to become women-Ja' Walker

Today being a boring day, I decided to sit and check all the cool sites I like to read and look at but haven't had a chance to do so lately because of my busy schedule. Whilst doing so, I found that there are people who actually like my freckled face. For a while, I used to think they were oddly inhuman. However, I'm no longer embarrassed of them. I must say the one on my chin is what eccentrically defines my face.

Here is the link:
http://blackchickswithfreckles.com/post/10518975736/from-our-fans-janay-walker-i-have-freckles-why

Well, until next time my name is Inertia.

Popsicles

What's extremely warm, cuddly, but throws up all over you? A mommy's, sweet little cuddle bug. I was a nurse working the graveyard shift last night. Or should I say this morning? Darn those BUGS! Hopefully, she'll be able to see the Popsicle on the picture as an early morning treat while at the same time staying hydrated.

The Comfy couch and meTIME

Obviously, my name is not sequential order because I thought I'd share what I did earlier this week during my ME TIME. I set in my comfy chair, blew some of the dust off some vinyl records, and had me some delicious melodic chow. It was midnight deliciousness. If brunch is eating between the hours of breakfast and lunch then what is it called between the hours of midnight and breakfast? Fastbreak? I suppose so because it doesn't last for long. At any rate, here is a picture from an appreciative person who caught me enjoying loveliness. And there is another one of a sleep walker exploiting my medicinal slumber.

Until then, I'll continue having fun late night conversations with Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, miles, and those who put the B in BOP jazz.

Eat, Pray, Love

A day without love is a day never lived- Ja' Walker

Yesterday, my husband and I took the morning from our usual jog. Come to think of it, we've been somehow, doing our own physical fitness thing in the morning for the past few days. I suppose as long as we try and maintain an active lifestyle and I can feel the touch of his soft SANDS, I'm happy. Have you ever walked the beach barefooted? A penny for your thought and my thoughts are all over the place.

After we picked up our little Preschool cuddle bug, we decided to take her to eat at Hasta La Pasta, a very lavish Italian restaurant. She, a 4 year old that climbs walls, leaves a toy trail so that she can find her way back to her room, and refuses to take naps received a free invitation to this particular restaurant for being such a great mini me (excluding trails, no napping, and wall climbing). Smile.

The restaurant was very nice. The prices are somewhat reasonable. However, I was almost disappointed.

"Do you have a vegetarian menu?" I asked.

"No, we don't," the waitress answered.

I had a blank stare on my face and was ready to go, although all of the food looked great BUT with meat. Then, there it was...

"However..."

She showed me the best Ravioli' option, flushed with Portobello mushrooms, a creamy marinara sauce, and spinach. The delicious meal was more than enough to sate my hunger for the rest of the day. My two pals felt the same way, as they only had a snack for the rest of the evening. I will definitely revisit. It's nothing better than hanging out with those you love and indulging in some good food while you're at it.

Until next time, eat, pray, and love...

Reebok'ed

Monday morning walk was....Peculiar. First, of course it started out with getting the kids off to school. Then, we headed for our morning jog in the wooded trails with our dog, Violet. My pace, breathing, spirit...everything was excellent. We finally hit the rocky wooded trails and in less than 20 seconds it was over. Why, you ask? Well, if you remember I have a pair of Reebok's that I thought loved talking to me for many years. However, today I found out the hard way that they, for whatever reason decided to yell all kind of profanities at me and tried to take me DOWN. All this time I thought maybe they would be there to talk to me on those lonely walks, when my husband didn't come along.

The rubber at the bottom of the right shoe literally detached halfway in the middle of the shoe, almost causing me to fall a few times while jogging. I was stooped, wondering how am I going to get home with these evil Reebok's? Well, it's always good to have a husband with a brain. He pulled some of the shoe strings from the top and tied it into the grooves at the bottom of the shoe. Pretty clever. However, that was it for the wooded trails. That temporary fix would not get me through moist unaligned grass. So,we took to the streets. I suppose the shoe felt bad because my husband and I were able to do about 2 miles on the streets.

I'm not the one to hold grudges and put people out, however, I am on my way to Academy. The Reebok's, though they allowed for the 2 miles, has given me trouble for too long. Or is it the other way around? At any rate, mama needs a new pair of shoes in order to continue with my beautiful morning jogs and cycling.

Until then, I'll be enjoying quiet time from those who shouldn't be talking to me anyway. Happy Thursday.

One little monkey didn't fall off the bed.

Saturday, was filled with aggravation, miscommunication, and everything else that could spoil an expensive Wagyu rib eye. Almost.

This weekend my husband and I celebrated our 9Th year wedding anniversary. Whilst, under the impression that I had stepped out of my usual element and had things drawn up as to who would keep who (speaking of my 3 children), I found out that change doesn't always mean that everything will run smoothly. I had made plans approximately two or three months in advance. Each month I tried to elude or directly let my family know that come October 29, dispersing the kids should be like giving a shopaholic a $10,000 shopping spree in return for a mere ride to the mall. However, I didn't think to make sure confirmation was made the week of.

Even still, my husband and I had a wonderful time, the kids were safe with our family, and I look forward to sharing many more with him. There is just one thing. After we'd had a beautiful day and it was time to go home, my youngest little monkey called and said, "Mommy, I want to come home." So while the other two were gone and having fun away from their boring mom and dad, the little one packed her bags and called for the Greyhound, otherwise known as, us. Though, we weren't able to come home alone, snuggle and watch scary movies, we were given something even better. A show of a little cute silly monkey jumping in our bed. I suppose she never heard of the the story, Five Little Monkeys Jumping in the Bed.

Until next time, remember not to answer the phone when it's your anniversary and the person who has your kids call...

This will soon become that...

He does this
He did that
He'll never do that

She didn't listen to that of which would
Not cause

He does this
He did that
He'll never do that

But did that of which she wanted and
Consequently, had to
Deal with the pain of her wanting to
Take it all back
Knowing that it was possibly
Her fault that a minute...a second wasn't even 1% his

Now a soul filled with confusion, anger, pain
Leaves him to wonder that love might not exist
only through magazines, dreams, and what it seems like everyone
Else around him smiles about
But not him because

He does this
He did that
He'll never do that

His touch, his hugs are so tremulous
Even in the same arms that
Allowed THAT to nearly take she and him

One weak mind, two hands marked by
destructive force, selfishness, and a fetus
Connected to a placenta that became
Tenebrous days/nights of loneliness

However, eyes always tell a story

He does this
He did that
AND he will do that
When that of which has caused him so much
Of the opposite, uncage their own inner maladies.
(To all the parents striving to help a child with ADHD succeed and are constantly told your child will never do this...)

Black Friday sale out (HYPOTHESIS)

Blindness or closed eyes can see beyond darkness. Some of the most beautiful things hap in dreams. Alike, if one closes their eyes, exceptional imaginativeness will mother her beautiful abstractions without the touch of skin or the taste of either of their mores. Proclivity is not about color, size ,or shape but the emotions that blinds the three. So this brings me to the question, "Why does sex sell?"

I was watching VEVO's featured videos and it's perturbing how many women have given in to today's standard (du jour), Top chart music. And yes, that's exactly what it is because ultimately, factuality will give way to the disposition of misrepresented perfection.

Some of the most talented artist are rejected, less popular, are merely like a piece of paper being (or have been)muscled by volatile winds. Is music superficial? View for yourself:











I believe I've posted enough evidence. It makes me wonder if the women who are quick to sell their bodies for fame have a dark past. Is it something psychological? I didn't slam down a gavel, therefore, I am not judging. Hypothesis.

Worthy remembrance

If I wasn't so sick, I would jump up and shout to the world that I have almost reached my goal in less than a month (or will reach it by the end of this month). However, I'm extremely sick and may fall out. There is a cold bug going around and it has the strength of Manny Pacquiao and my system seems to be afraid to go glove to glove with it as if it was Mayweather. However, that hasn't stopped me from continually looking straight forward when it comes to my overall health.

I've been cycling about 2 miles or more everyday, I am officially a vegetarian again. I feel great! Cycling is truly medicinal for me. I love the time to myself, I love to people watch, meditate, and see clearly how I need to organize my life....at times. The bowl of wind, birds singing in the distance, the neighborly leaves keeping me company with their chatter, makes me think. All the beauty of the physical world that is removed from human habitation makes me wonder why it can hardly allow them to mirror such sereneness.

Speaking of which, today as I was riding and seasoning my mind, I couldn't come up with the reason why EMPATHY is such a hard quality for humans to digest. It's as if they are trying to digest a 72oz steak. Maybe if we all had the same shoe sizes the world would be so much different. I would be willing to give my old, dilapidated, antiquated Reebok's for someone to walk in. The ride took me back to a recent incident where EMPATHY WAS LACKING.

One should become aware of what they are actually feeling -- to acknowledge, identify, and accept their feelings. Only then can they empathize with others. That is one reason it is important to work on your own emotional awareness and sensitivity-- in other words, to be "in touch with" your feelings.

Life is too short and misunderstandings can have a pernicious effect on a much needed smile. Until then, keep striving for good health, avoiding indifferences, and meditating on continued change.


Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution-Kahlil Gibran

Have you ever seen a sloth move fast

Today was one of those, The kids are gone and I can have some much needed me time. All of the ups and downs, getting up, and partially sitting down before the little Masa's put you back on the chain gang. I was set. I grabbed my blanket, juice, and iPad, and was ready to let Pandora radio keep me company, more or less. As soon as I snugged down in the chair and plush comforter, Billie Holiday commenced to telling me about a melodic Loveless Love. Abruptly, someone in the background began to sing off tune.
"Are you ready for our walk?" A gentleman barked.
"In a minute," I answered. Of course a minute in, I don't feel like it time and I hope you just give up on me today, is about 30 minutes.

Needless to say, I had no plans of our daily morning routine. After all, he was the fitness trainer that told me it isn't good to jog everyday. Oh well, there went my quiet time. However, after biking for over two miles, I was rejuvenated and very thankful that I had someone to motivate me this morning (everyday), because I was almost completely ingested by inertness.

Until next time, no hanging from trees, and only coming down once a week to do your business. Lol

Bottled love

She once thought she knew the essentiality of love

Long stem roses

Conformed in habit of the enjoyable flush of
words and delectability

Overpriced cards filled with a strangers intellection
when harsh words caused him to feel sheepish

To death do us part,
when mental illness forcefully,
tucked in a childhood memory beside him

Scars repeating themselves,
but only with the receiving of perception

She now knows love as 8% of consonance
whilst love is lost in 40 ounces of bibulousness

Multiple personalities of
love and tangled thighs

Hating what a pill requires of imperfection

Half of what used to be and
swimming In the delusion of muzzled regret

A bikes unWHEELINGness to cooperate

Every good picture leaves the painter eager to start again, unsatisfied, inspired by the rich mine in which he is working, hoping for more energy, more vitality, more time - condemned to painting for life-John French Sloan

After five days of my cleanse, I feel as though I cheated myself (per instructions, some people do it for only three days). However, they recommend ten days. So of course that means that I am going to start again. Ten days strong. Unsatisfied, hoping for more energy, and NO more time, I have decided to go full speed. By the end of the month (anniversary time), I intend on getting back in the shape that I was initially in a few months ago, BUT even better. After all, they say the biggest room in the house is improvement.

After giving up a six months lifestyle of vegetarianism, I didn't feel like myself and felt as though I gave up on something I was passionate about. So a few days without meat taking up residence in my body, I feel awesome.

Today, my husband and I tried something different for our morning walk. He'd jog the wooded trails and I would ride my bike. Well that didn't go as planned. I got a few feet down the trail and realized that the bike no longer wanted to move. He was a mottle in the wind before me as I continued to try and pedal my bike in the thickish trails. So, we decided to aggravate the streets and drivers and get back on the road. Needless to say, I redeemed myself and was pedaling as if Jeffrey Dahmer was right behind me with a knife, fork, and a huge appetite. I blame the inability to ride the wooded trails on an old antiquated dilapidated bike. The back wheel is bent, and that's the story I'm sticking to. At any rate, my implementation of biking again has been fun. I love to ride and people watch.

Well it's tea time and afterwards, time for this painter to get some shut-eye. Until then, get your sweaty back. Side note: this was a sleepy rambling post.

Follow the bread crumbs

Have you ever espied how the jokes and witticism that one deems as humorous is because it predicates horrid truths in oneself. I remember it like it was yesterday. It's as if the words are permanently recorded in my head and the physical bullying is an open pictorial history book, often read aloud.

More or less, I was bullied on a regular basis. In high school I was about 5'11 1/2 and weighed about 115-120lbs. I was constantly called every name besides my given one. Olive Oyl. Slim Jim. Slender Bender. Ethiopian. Crackhead. There was others, however, I don't remember them all. This was traumatizing. I was so ashamed of how I looked, I thought I had come up with a solution by walking with my back slouched to try and divert the negative attention away from me. Needless to say, it didn't work. What's more because I had no self confidence and a lack of (or zero) self-empowerment, I was a target for physical abuse. There were these two boys (brothers) and the oldest one used to literally wait for me to walk to science class to tease me. He would hit me on my behind. Obviously, it wasn't because he liked me but to antagonize the heck out of me. Stop, had become an everyday word for me come time for my stroll to science class. What made it even more painful is that the other brother would just laugh and walk off. However, he took two classes with me and he would tell me not to worry about his brother, followed by a smirk.

I grew to hate school and because of that my grades mirrored it. In addition, my low self-esteem caused me to feel as though I had to shut the world out....be on defense at all times. When i graduated from school, I thought I was awkard looking, and undesirable. That was until I was approached to model. At nineteen I begin modeling and it really boosted my confidence.

However, after I married and had three children, I went from one extreme to the other. I gained several pounds. Once again, I was uncomfortable with my body, and it would often take me back to high school. With the help of my husband and me working on my physical appearance and identity, I have been able to overcome a lot of extreme insecurities.

I was inspired to share this story because of something a friend shared with me today. He told me that he had met a beautiful intelligent lady that he had even started making future plans with. However, the eleventh month relationship ended. He said the reason for the relationship failure was because he takes some things that should be considered a light joke to heart. Why? Because as a kid he was overweight and teased (even by his own family members). He analyzed all of his past relationships and this was his reasoning for their demise:

As a kid I was a heavy dude (fatty) and was picked on by brothers, sister (the other adored me) and friends (rather enemies) alike. So I guess that my first reaction is a defensive one. It's not fair to others nor myself, but that's exactly where most of it derives.

However, the main part of the email that penciled CONFUSION in my realm of reasoning with was a statement he made about happiness in the relationships. He stated:

A lot of my anger also comes with dealing with the dissapointment of my failed relationships as well. The past can only serve to instruct us and that's exactly what I'm focusing on here. During all my past relationships, I was so focused on making the other person happy, I forgot to make MYSELF happy as well...


My response was:

Were you truly focusing on making the other person happy? Had that been the case, and you wanted to form a successful relationship with this person, you cannot dwell on your past mistakes. It's not fair to your significant other or yourself. To make her happy you have to first talk (loudly said), take it slow, and get to know HER for whom she is, not for who she became because of the inconstancy of the "fatty," kid.

Childhood bullying can cause long term effects. However, there are sometimes ways to overcome them. One is by channeling that anger into creative expressivity. Another is making a goal(s) for yourself and working hard at achieving them. Until you do that, you'll never find those bread crumbs to lead you back to the person you're supposed to be or were before someone dumped their insecurities off on you.

When I need to do a bit of self-reflection, I use the beauty of nature. Look at the trees. Throughout ALL the seasons (I.e. Winter, spring, Sumer, and fall), trees take time to make themselves over, make changes for the overall beauty of themselves and others. Oxygenic love.

"Who would ever think that so much went on in the soul of a young girl-"Anne Frank

Everyday, I espy things that inspire me to write. This particular post I said that I would never post. However, sometimes there are those girls who have been through so much that sharing their story might change another's.

Her once upon a time smile
vanished when left in a bassinet swallowed
In thickish red sheets of a bleeding heart
and a closet fatted with strangers
Dressed in spendy clothes on wooden hangers.

Shipped and returned to see if the fetus could be
Reconnected to the placenta in an effort to be
Nurtured with love.

Now a comprehensive overview of
mommy& daddies revolution
She has a heart made of a cyclopedia
That recklessly beats of volumes of
Saddened eyes, colored like that of dying purple calla lilies,
And a soul that was anesthetized by perversion.
A great deal of pain

Rosa, Debra, and Sharon (all one in the same) weigh heavily in her mind
speaking to her at once, rapaciously chowing down
On the remains of three pounds of her onetime sagacity.

Now combing any and all hormones for love, she'd (Sharon, or whoever she is at that moment) rather tangle thighs with a perv who would PREfer unfinished sexual objects, and whose naïveté allows him to repeatedly decorate
her innocence with fabrics embossed with immortal scars.

She'd just met him two weeks ago. Roses, a pair of sneakers, a temporary place to sleep in exchange to use his ball point pin to letter another one of his mistaken jam tarts. She didn't know where her feet would guide her when the weekend was over
But her young mind knew that she enjoyed looking through carnal eyes
Now, a mother is left to sweat blood, wondering whether or not the high winds that clatter the windowpanes and the porch shadow under the tenebrous skies are merely a virulent sleep.

Days seemed like weeks and weeks seemed like days, the time she put on her big girl panties and left her mom to subsist in cloudland, collecting her baby girl articles that were found junked behind a building.

Wasted hopes and dreams are reality
When, "You Are Beautiful," for nothing other than 10 minutes of a yoked hand on smallish teats beneath a Bobbie bra, and underwear that are overladen with his SOIL, whilst a seed is now ripening in her drugged motionless body.

Dumped and left to be eaten by sadism and hard-heartedness, shoeless she staggers to find home. She made it to the door.

After the fog cleared, her mothers eyes nearly melted away with the rising sun.
Mommies touch, love, and overcompensation only banished like vapor. Evanescent. Her eyes still bled for something.

Could her mom gift her that?
She took her mom into deep, violent, and hellacious thickish fields, leaving behind bread crumbs of crimson tears.

Before long, they came upon this place. It was beautiful. Glass windows, smiling faces, hugs, beauty, a man who extended what looked like Love to three little kids that seemed to floor the onlooker.

As she watched, she wondered what love really meant. A 10 minute, "You are Beautiful?" Her vision of the glass house and it's residers? She stood there staring at the place (her mother by her side) as if it was a fairytale.

Suddenly, the glass house begin to fall and crumble like autumn leaves. The vault of the sky turned a darkish grey. Nothing was left but a shadow in the midst of the smog and swallowed before it could touch her outstretched hand.

The sun was taking a lave and as it swarmed out of the water, and peeked through her drapes it wakened her from chapter 15 entitled,"Dad, am I beautiful?"

As she sat up on the side of her bed, she felt something crumble under her foot. As she looked it over, her body suddenly froze.
It was a piece of page 135 from the book in her dream.
All that she could make out was father and a piece that was scarcely hanging at the bottom read, the end.

Written by: Janay

The Wolf was calling last night...

Today makes my 5Th day of cleansing. I must say my heart goes out to those who are impoverished and are unable to eat little to nothing on a daily basis. Yesterday, I almost gave in. My husband made one of my favorite Friday lazy dinners. Hot dogs. I could literally taste the cheese, Wolf brand chili, sour cream....I suppose I should stop there before I sneak and make one (as if my body can't see me wolfing down the evil dog). I have two more days and hopefully my body will be somewhat cleansed of metabolic waste, and accumulated environmental toxins. Thereafter, I'll resume my vegetarian lifestyle.

Before I started my cleanse, i had to release my mind from any distractions (I.e. social lifestyle, and acquaintances). Initially, stress was the biggest hindrance of me continuing my cleanse after the first or second day. I had to also realize that what people said about me Has no heft.

I've still been jogging/walking everyday with my new pal Violet (our family dog) and my husband. And this week I started back boxing and cycling. My anniversary is at the end of this month. WATCH OUT, because I'll be ready. Smile.

In need of a cup of coffee, dark..

I can't see nobody
I walk with my eyes open
And it's as if I am the only mortal that exist here
I can't see nobody but even so, I can see the trees
They all seem very outgoing and gregarious.
Moving over so that the other can enjoy seeing me,
Seeing nobody.

The sun is luminesce, aside from the fact that
I can't see nobody. Obviously, the sun grew limbs
And has eyes because I can't see nobody.
I suppose everybody embodied an atmosphere of gloom.

Side note: one of those days. At any rate, everyone enjoy!
(Written while listening to Nina Simone on vinyl)

Red Shoes

There was a massive attack on Coryphee. Mrs.Prima ballerina's elongated rose tree was in full bloom. Mentally undressed she carried another's lack of, in her beautifully. Extended legs are beaten in the air while supposed, graceful love is growing in her womb. Coryphee, smiled as her seemingly perfect Arabesque pose bleed 90 degree angles of Incertitude. The childhood dream of the Red Shoes, somehow had become her. She as most in her position, wanted the beautiful dainty pink satin slippers. However, she was resolute about making the best out of otherness.

Rather than hinting at the realism of harshness she graced the stage in her pointe shoes. She showed the world that differences are an analogy. Coryphee, saw that HE was what gave her her perfect striking, 90 degree Junoesque type of beauty.

(To my beautiful son who makes me flourish and learn what true beauty and love really is).

Bunkers

Excitement is an understatement when I express my feelings about my four year old finally graduating from sleeping with Mommy& Daddy. Thursday, they delivered a lovely bunk bed set. Peaches and cream ? Not!

Firstly, the delivery was total confusion and unprofessionalism. When the delivery men left and I started loading my girls clothes in their drawers, three of them were broken. Then I was informed that it will take possibly two weeks to get a replacement chest.

To top it off, after my mom had helped decorate and beautify the girls room, they're now fighting to mark their turf. Who will sleep at the top and who will sleep at the bottom? I don't know, but I'm thinking about pulling out the sleeping bags and telling them the joke was on them.

Purple Violet

Today marks the fourth day that I've joined my husband and dog, Violet on some beautiful, early morning jog/walks. I send the kids off to school and immediately the Reeboks hit the pavement. Speaking of which, I must treat myself to a new pair of sneakers because the rubber bottom soles are trying to tell me something. They've been doing a little talking saying, " This is what's slowing you down. Don't fall. We are ladies and we usually don't tell our age, but we are 6 years old. You know that is about 50 in tennis shoe years." I think this conversation may persuade my husband to buy me a nice pair.

Any who, when we first got Violet, I wasn't too enthused. I was not raised around dogs, therefore, I was a bit befuddled as to why we needed another one.However, my husband is a sure-enough dog lover. He saw her once while getting some things for our other dog, Hercules. When he passed up Violet, it was all over. He had to have her. She is a very docile dog who absolutely loves being around people. Between my kids and my husband, I believe she gets more hugs, love pats, and conversations than I do. Maybe if I drooled more and had extreme flatulence (the reason she was kicked out of the living room), I'd have a chance.

All the same, I think these last few days have really been good, not just for my health but for Violet and I (I'm sure my husband will smile when reading this). She has helped me keep up a steady pace, even when I feel like my lungs are about to fall out. Or even when she stops she smells or sees vermin or critters on our stroll in the wooded trails, she helps me get a breather.

If Violet helps me lose about 15 more pounds, I think I'll buy her a purple skateboard like the dog from Rob& Big. I'm sure then, she and my son would probably become the best of friends. Until next time, I'll be jiggling for a cause. Hey, who knows I might even have the stamina to outrun my husband and Violet. Of course, I just woke up. Lol

Sprung

It's a truth (maybe), that every blue moon we want company to come by. You get that lonely feeling...husband is busy, the children are at school, housework is done for the next 5 minutes (smile), and you're getting a little bored. And if you are anything like me, you hate television (excluding Basketball Wives or mostly anything on the ID. channel-shameful). So, you are sitting around and decide to invite a friend over, for a little big girl talk ( at this particular point big girl means not exposed to hours of infant, adolescent, or tween talk).

When you have a huge sectional that basically take up your entire room and has a zillion cushions and 7 throw pillows, how long do you think it takes to re fluff those cotton picking pillows? Strangely, someone decides to sit on the edge of three cushions at one time. Another reason to growl. I can remember growing up and not being allowed to sit on my parents "nice furniture." Therefore, when I pay someone a visit, I esteem it a privilege to sit on their furniture. Often times, I find it more comfortable sitting on the floor than the sofa anyways. That's if you have unsoiled flooring and I wont get up with twenty dust mites clinging to my backside.

Now, getting to the situation where I wished I'd bludgeoned myself for inviting this particular guest over was about a year back. The big girl phrase now becomes a bit literal. We had just come back from eating. The food was great. Hence, the full stomachs. Any who, she walked over to the sofa (mind you she is no Mary-Kate Olsen). The largish fanny pack that was strapped around her stomach from the lunch we'd just had, coupled with the her normal weight, weighed torturous on the spring on my couch so much so, that the next morning I realized it was broken.

To sum it up, (I realized she was full) but she plopped down on my couch, popped my spring, and engulfed herself in my throw pillows. To top it off, on her way out, no courtesy fluff.

Moral of the story, if you don't wish to stand the duration of your visit, sit on the floor, or let me get you a dinning room chair, RE FLUFF. Commonality in Southern hospitality. Until then, please don't contribute to this being my sofa on the side of the rode.

Over the knee and a switch from the tree...

Obviously, the somnolent hum of the cricket in my bed is me. Insomnia has reared it's unsightly face again. Frankly, I don't fancy much television. Though, I've admitted before that my guilty pleasure is Basketball Wives.

Laughably, everyone who has an IPad or anything Apple, will be taught a lesson in grammar. What league of grammar, I have yet to figure out. Maybe Steve Jobs employed one of his children to do the spellcheck for Apple. Nevertheless, as I was attempting to type, Basketball Wives, the word wives automatically red-penciled my word and after hitting space it changed it to wolf. Instantly, Alanis Morissette 1996 song, "Ironic," just Popped in my head. Why? Well, let's just let Merriam-Webster answer that for you.

Definition of WOLF
1
plural also wolf
a : any of several large predatory canids (genus Canis) that live and hunt in packs and resemble the related dogs; especially : gray wolf — compare coyote, jackal
b : the fur of a wolf
2
a (1) : a fierce, rapacious, or destructive person
b : dire poverty : starvation
c : the maggot of a warble fly
3
[German; from the howling sound
b : a harshness due to faulty vibration in various tones in a bowed instrument
— wolf·like adjective
— wolf in sheep's clothing
: one who cloaks a hostile intention with a friendly manner

Based on the 3am show that I just watched (presuming this was the first of the season) and the highlights for next week, the new Basketball Wives LA is akin to the Miami Wives, wretched morals. These reality star women ( and I use the word STAR loosely), ARE the enfant terrible for today's television.

Recap: On this particular episode Laura Govan had just given birth to a baby 3 weeks ago and physically lashed out a Malaysia (a bougie and uppish female who seems to be braggadocios like some of the others). Then there was Jackie, who asked Tonya, "Who the fbomb are you?" Frankly, it appeared at the entire lunch, Jackie was athirst to basically get Tonya's life story. She responded by saying, "Jackie, if you really want to get to know me all you have to do is ask, Tonya who are you? What's your history?" Hmm, I believe that is what she initially asked. But what appears to be the quandary with Tonya, is that she tries a bit to hard to show the existence of her being learned or college educated. True she may be an intelligent woman. That's yet to proven. However, some are so smart that they come across dumb. Instead of her just sitting at a round table and giving a little background on herself (after all they are working together), she made a fool of herself by repeating exactly what Jackie had just asked.

The problem with smart people is that they like to be right and sometimes will defend ideas to the death rather than admit they’re wrong. Not a very hyperintelligent idea. Worse, if they got away with it when they were young (say, because they were smarter than their friends, or even their parents) they’ve probably built an ego around being right, and will therefore defend their perfect record of invented rightness to the end. Smart people often prefer to get their foot stuck in a shoe 3 sizes too small to appear right even if it requires them being unhappy. Kimsha Artest is obviously a tattooed hood rat and wants to take it out on Malaysia because, though she is conceited, Kimsha espies something in her that she aspires to be or have.

The rest were a bit drab and dusty, and I don't care to waste my time writing about them at the time. I will say this, I appreciate every lashing, punishment, and 3 hour grueling speeches that my parents implemented in my childhood. Why? Well, I'm sure a lot of us have seen the Miami and LA show, and it makes me wonder if the parents, grandparents, and/or neighbors should have pulled a switch on the majority of them.

Fashion sketchbook

Have you ever loved a person so much (even after several years of marriage), that active use of Positive energy is sometimes confused with needling or nitpicking? True, I can show steady conformity to my "I get it honestly," character when I want or believe strongly in something. Or maybe it's the baby child syndrome. Who knows? At any rate, I thought I would pencil out my thoughts because I have found many areas in which change is needed on my end. My goal is to strive daily to refashion my design or to revamp my wifely fashion sketchbook. Firstly, let's just be truthful, this isn't easy because as humans after so many years of being one way, remodeling oneself is akin to the flakiness of trying to zip the front of a dress when it clearly only has buttons.

For quite some time I have shirked my duties of being the wife I promised to be , till death do us part. Now that I am trying to become a changed woman, I truly believe that I have to find balance. I expect my husband (children as well) to immediately adjust to my new systematized ways overnight. Admittedly, when he doesn't, it gives way to a lot of nagging or whys and how comes. This isn't just with my husband but also with my children. Organization can either be a good thing or it can make you want to say, Let me grow some wings and fly far away from here. So what are my plans?

1. Take notes on fashion. We have plenty of examples (now day and bible times). Write and/or draw things that will make you a better designer. It takes practice but you can definitely become excellent at it over time.

2. Study the way clothes are constructed (in this case take a deeper look at your husband than you normally have). Sewing patterns contain two types of illustrations--a depiction of the way the completed garment will look and a flat, two-dimensional schematic of each piece with details on its construction. If you understand the different components that go into construction of a button-up shirt, for example, you’ll be able to better visualize how to sketch it.

In other words you'll train your eye and mind to see how the entire shapes and pieces of the garments beautifully works collectively.

Im sure this blog is a bit choppy. However, we all have those times that we feel that we could and should be doing so much more as a mate and the, "much more," is higgledy-piggedly words and thoughts In our heads. For the sack of sustaining and supporting a wonderful man, I hope my fashion sketchbook will be a friend for persevering causes. *

*With love to a wonderful husband.

"Wake up alone..."

I'm sure most have heard that toxicology reports came back and corroborated the fact that there was no illegal substances in Amy Winehouse system at the time of her death. Per her dad, Amy before her death, had recently concluded a three-week period sans the heavy drinking.

Amy Winehouse, was a very talented young lady. I'm very happy that she was trying to get her life back together because everyone knows that addiction Is a beast. Dosage makes alcohol poisonous. And it is not a secret that Amy was heavily on it for an elongated time (including her ramrod of illegal drugs). The fact is solid, she struggled a great deal with substance abuse and the mark that it could have had on her body is possibly, a contributing factor to her death.

Here are a few statistics:

Long-term alcohol abuse has a number of irreversible health effects. Cells are destroyed in nearly every organ of the body. Most of the damage is in the brain and the liver, but serious diseases can also develop in the heart and the stomach.

Regular drinking promotes a tolerance to alcohol, allowing the individual to drink more and appear less inebriated. The appearance is deceptive. Despite clear speech, the physical damage to the brain and the liver continues, coordination is still severely affected, withdrawal effects are increased, and the cycle of dependence and addiction has started.
http://www.sportsdoctor.com/chg/drugs.html.

It is a heartrending sight to have seen such a young talent expire in the public eye. It just goes to show you that addiction does not discriminate.

boot up cowboy and push the metal...

By and large, Gov. Rick Perry (aka Rick I. Dontcarey), said Wednesday that the state's are not to blame if teachers lose their jobs as school districts tussle with the potential loss of billions of state dollars. Really? I don't care how many accolades or so called baby Miracles he has professed to have made in the past. He is truly the blame for school budget woes. Lawmakers, need to use a balanced approach in fostering a state budget.

Today was my children's first day back to school with the elimination of bus transportation for kids who live within 2 miles of their school.
Supposedly, this is projected to save the district $1.5 million, which would equal approximately 30 teaching positions, in the 2011-12 school year. However, this was the biggest disarrangement I have ever espied at any school. The streets were literally, nonmoving stacks of cars. Neighbors were highly frustrated because they were basically blocked in their subdivisions. At some points, there were no cross guards for the children. The main roads were stretched miles back in an effort for parents to retrieve their children. However, the worst part of it all was witnessing elementary children (ages 4-11) walking on main roads with absolutely no sidewalks. I'd hate to imagine what will become of this littered situation.

Rick Perry, needs to hop his supercilious, uppity caboose over here and get to putting on a pair of his big ticket boots. Then swerve some corners for our children whose lives are in danger, especially with these sick pedophile paved streets that working parents are forced to catapult their children on.

Just go to sleep already...

I spent years perpending what I was going to do with my time when all three of my children were finally in school. I thought I had it all planned out. I was going to take long bike rides, morning walks with my husband, hike up a hill and read a good book, and most importantly, focus on dropping some of the extra pounds. Well needless to say, all has changed when I found out today that Pre-k let's out at 10:30am. So let's see, by the time I get the kids fed, dressed, and off to school, and make it back home to prepare things for the latter part of the day, i won't have time to find a pound, let alone lose one. The only hill (heal)I can sit down and read a good book on Is one in my closet. And I don't think that would be too pleasant.

This is the first week my four year old has slept in her room. True, big sister is there with her, however, that hasn't stopped her from getting up for the fifth time trying to sale me on the scared bid. I AIN'T buying it. If she can sleep with me with all lights off (because I hate any light when it's bedtime), she shouldn't be scared.

After growing tired of listening to a few bible stories, I found a podcast that actually reads classic bedtime stories to children. And guess what? They're fast asleep. Big brother is the only one with the sense to get his good night rest so when that alarm smacks him in the ear, he's ready to take on the day.

In addition, I fhought with the kids going to bed early, I could catch up on some of my writing, listen to some of my fabolous antiquated records, and/ or have a glass of wine. But, I'm so exhausted, I'm going to write letters to my pillowcase. Drool is much cheaper than ink. I'm going to listen to.....Wait. Do you hear that? Exactly! And lastly, I'll settle for a glass of cold water and call it a night. Until then...

Sirius

Love is:

Mood swings, being awakened after eight hours of work, just to see his face, scrubbing a pot of hardened oatmeal residuals that someone thought water would miraculously deterge, his last bite of a scrumptious steak that was snatched from his fork at the last minute, expelling gas and still engrossed in conversation and laughter as if it was a love potion, sharing seemingly acrid fields of morning breath, knotty hair half framed by a whoop sided scarf, dressed in a slovenly manner in yesterday's pajamas, quietude, killing ones certitude with a bit of an attitude and a partial smile, looking through the television on each others movie night, appreciating hard working nights and even so, coming home with a smile so bright that you can't help but understand what love is.

Love is you, I, and our Hotchpotch of everything we stew about...or not. Our cosmic string. In spite of everything, we are beautifully bonded by OUR fairytale rings.

Fudged

A poem about...

Her perfectly  made cupcake eyes 
Now charring like old paper in a priceless sink
Flying freely, only for said phenomenon to twist the child proof top on the miracle and turn her into fudge.

The label reads, "It must be taken with food." 
Nothing left in his cabinets of hollowness but
A memory of her SOUL... food and the pill bottle that 
expired three months back.

He opens the bottle nevertheless; smiles,
takes a dose of her,
And less than a minute later Fudge
Had evanesced. 
Somehow, someone was able to save him from her
Yet, he was still tempted
With an assortment of other Confections.
All of whom were made from the same  ingredients as was she.
Who? 
Was she?

Seemingly always screaming mother..

Someone telling you how much of a good mother you are, the times you spend laughing and playing with your kids, and etc., will never abate the fact that as a mother you always feel a sparse amount of failure. A feeling that you could have done something different, gave more kisses, hugs, closed the computer, or canceled your plans just to see that little pint-sized smile, though small, weighed tons on your heart.

The past few days I've been working non stop to get the house and kids organized for school. Yet, at the same time, I've tried to bring a little fun and happiness in their lives. But, we know what the biggest room in the house is.

. To get to the point, about an hour ago my daughter and another unmentioned person, told me that I yell too much. A YELLER! Initially, my heart bled. I couldn't have felt any lower. I Stopped for a minute and listened to what was being said (felt) with an open mind, and I immediately hugged my daughter and apologized.

Lesson learned? Maye, sometimes I need to put my feet in their little shoes and possibly, I'll feel their pain (ten fold). Secondly, I've learned the hard way; that personal time and outings, BY YOURSELF, will help you keep mentally and physically grounded. Thereby, finding much happiness in anxiously coming home and seeing those beautiful faces again. Lastly, I've learned to cherish the hugs, kisses, and demanded time. You can never get it back. So for now, I'll end here and go bask in the overabundance of blessings I was given.

Until nest time...

The mean girlskin...

Today, I was set to talk about a certain topic that has been eating at me for months. However, after i attempted to try on a pair of pants and my stomach looked as though it was laughing at me and the nonmotile zipper, I decided to veer off into another direction. I'm sure that a lot of women would pay their life savings, turn over their big-ticket investment, and maybe trade in a husband, for a real, safe, and permanent cure for weight gain. I'm not referring to the quick fix cures where they make your stomach the size of a fingertip and all you're able to eat is maybe, a snow pea.

Yes, the experts and those who can swallow a pregnant elephant and still not gain a pound, may say that there are other cures (i.e. slapping the street pavement with the expensive Reebok's that you bought for melting that jiggle, exchanging the one cup for a teaspoon of FAT, and etc.). No matter how we try and deny it, we as humans love eating good food. And when I say good food, I mean the kind that taste good and you won't gain 10lbs just by accidentally looking at it.

So, I'll get to my point. Whilst, engaging in some much needed cleaning today, I made a discovery. Over half the clothes in my closet belongs to the girl that had begun leasing my skin about 4 momths ago. At one point, she was an inspiration to me. She ate healthy, meat free, worked out on a daily basis, and was happy. Now, I have 6, 8 and 10's, that are sandwiching my only wearable garment. A pair of black jogging pants. It is now time to find the finagler and tell her that she owes me back rent. And that this skin is no longer for rent. I am exclusively occupying this skin again. And when I get back to my ideal size, I'm going on a shopping spree. Where? In my closet and I'm taking everything. #WINNING! However, I might be a lady and leave her the scruffy, dilapidated BLACK JOGGING PANT.

Side note: I may need a little backup because she is a heartless character. Until then...

NSA

We all have that one (some may have more) guilty pleasure. Unfortunately, mines is watching Basketball Wives. Firstly, I must say that I definitely appreciate all the butt whippings, and over the top things that my parents implemented in my life when raising me to be a respectable woman.

So, I'm watching tonight's episode which is basically about Jennifer having a divorce party and starting a new chapter in her life. With that change she has spoken about dating, finding a hot guy to make out with (fornicating), having a little fun, and getting some a$$. However, she did make it clear that she was not ready for a serious relationship. So, can a person (mainly a woman) who've just ended a long term relationship be in a successful NSA (No strings attached) relationship? Is it possible for her to have that GO TO man, without allowing her feelings to become involved? A lot of women are not laced to operate in this type of relationship. Let's say, the two of them decide to seriously start dating. Will a relationship built on sexual attraction flourish?

What's more, if a woman does not allow herself time to heal and find her true self after a break up, will ANY of her future relationship(s) succeed? Highly unlikely.

zip(less)

Ladies, have you ever gained that extra 5-10lbs and found yourself in an hour struggle to pull those new pair of expensive, True Religion jeans up? Well the fact remains that the last pair is a 4 and you are a 4+4. Wait! Voila! After much sucking in, tucking, and frustration, you've managed to pull them up. Paint them on, sort of speak. But, that was only the beginning. Now you've found yourself wondering how deep you can breath in to get them tight puppies zipped. You say to yourself, "Was it worth it?" Even if one is able to zip them, one still has the arduous task of taking them off. Get the primer ready because the zipper AIN'T happening. What should you do? Lose the weight or find another size elsewhere? Or maybe you should just leave them and find another style that fits you better.

Sometimes, we have to realize that every person we call a friend is not always the right one, no matter how hard and long we try to make them fit. Like the jean scenario mentioned above, some friends may be able to be squeezed in, pulled up, or look great on the outside. But, what about inside? What's more, are they worth the hassle, your time, and/or energy? Are they that zipper that won't close? You know the ones that you confide in and their mouth just won't zip. Anything you tell them is like a button ready to pop on a small shirt , being abused by an XXL denier. If a friend seems to cause you unneeded burdens, it might be time to lose the unnecessary weight, change into something else for the time being (in the instance the problem might be you), take them to the nearest resale shop, or get rid of them all together. BLACK TRASH BAGGED! Thoughts?


This leads me to my next post. Until next time...

Airborne

Finally felt up to writing. And since this is a part of my 21 day challenge, I thought I would share.


Airborne

Birds are singing
The Air is humid and dank

The neighbor has turned her mother into a flower
The trees are putting on airs...
Stained with greed

Early morning sounds of a saxophone being played
With a chipped read...
Between the lines the neighbors eyes
Continued with, " I'm not in the mood to speak,"
Who cares (rhetorically)

When I sat on the quaint green chair
My intentions were not vulnerably bare
I had no cares as to how my mood would sketch me
Against the yellow oak staves

I inject my soul with my daily dose of air...
Of happiness is killing me.
Strangely, it feels good