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...