A Season of Loss

 I don't think that I need to tell anyone that these last few years we have all suffered a season of colossal loss. Now listen, I am operating from the fact that covid is a real thing and millions of people have died from complications with this disease- if you are not operating from that starting point, this post is not for you (And nope I will not be taking any questions on that.) I have been to more funerals than I care to count- in person, and on Zoom- over the last 2 and a half years. Some of my friends have lost parents and/or grandparents, I have lost cousins, mentors, community visionaries, family friends and pets. Shit's been rough.

I think that whenever someone loses someone in their circle, they lose a part of their heart. Some of us are out here with hearts that look like Swiss cheese, y'all. Lives are being turned upside down, some of these hearts will never be healed. Some mental health challenges began in March of 2020 and continue today. Some of us will never be the same. Some of us will have a season of loss that we will never bounce back from. Be kind to all you encounter. 

Weekend Life

 

Grief, Part I

 

Low Battery

 Today I got a notification on my phone that reminded me that my Fitbit battery is low. If that ain't a reflection of life since March 2020, I don't know what is. Uh, my every day life battery is low. And listen, my every day situation looks very different than most folks- I'll be the first to admit that- but it is still exhausting. There are days, like today, where I spend the day doing task after task... no end in sight. That will be every day for the foreseeable future, so I guess I should just get ready for the rest of the year to just be checking shit off a mile long to-do list. Deep breath. I'm going to need a massage package. 

Year 45, Day 1

 Starting off the year right, I think. Last week I had what could only be considered a "get your shit together" meeting with myself and decided a few things. Every New Year we all swear that we are going to be better, finally sit down and do that project we have been dragging our feet on, have better control of our finances, and (the big one) eat better/lose weight/work out more. And I do that every year on my birthday. Sincerely, I think I am the best procrastinator around. I know of three projects in my house, right now, that have been on my to do list for years. YEARS. 

Well, if ever there was a year to get my shit together, here it is. Forty-five. What better time to do something you have wanted/needed to do than right now? I think that it will help clear my cloudy ass mind, and if I am being totally honest, I could put the brain space to better use. One of the projects that I have decided needed to be resurrected this year is this... my blog. Life has come at us all exceedingly fast these last few years and I, like most of us, have gone with the flow, done what was absolutely necessary... and not much else. I have definitely gotten away from the simple joys in life- one of which is making time to type out my feelings and opinions for everyone to see and disagree with. 

I can't remember what movie it was but there was a scene when one of the characters said something along the lines of "if you wake up and want to write... you's a writer" and that is me. Every day I have little snippets of things I would write "if I only had time." Well, in year 45, I am making time. Every day, even if it is just before midnight (ahem) or if it is only three sentences. If I am able, I will write... decision number one. Not too shabby for an old lady, huh?

Birthday Shenanigans

 Today at 6:03pm, I celebrated 45 years of living. I remember when I thought that forty five was so old... because I thought that very thing last week. Life is so surreal sometimes. I can close my eyes and see myself in high school and college, only to open my eyes and see my daughter and husband. I swear it seems like yesterday I was graduating from college with the body of a track runner and now here I am,  mid forties with a mom body and an extensive collection of leggings. 

To say that my life is not what I imagined at the age of 22 is the understatement of this century, but there is still a certain joy in living a life that was unimaginable to you a couple of decades ago. It isn't ALWAYS bad to not follow the path you have laid out in your mind. All the twists and turns, elations and disappointments, failure and triumphs have led me here. And HERE is kinda cool. Happy Birthday to me. To celebrate here is the song that was number one on the charts a few weeks after I was born (and who doesn't love some Bee Gees?)

That Slap Tho

 I have slept on it, took my kiddo to school and had my coffee and I am still unable to give Will Smith a pass for that fuckery that he did at the Oscars. Just in case you didn’t watch, or have somehow avoided all the think pieces on it: Will Smith walked up on stage, in the middle of the Oscars, and slapped Chris Rock who was presenting the Oscar for Best Documentary. Y’all. Keeping it 100, I was not watching the Oscars. I don’t generally like the show and I feel like it is a popularity contest that lacks diversity. So, I first saw the mentions of it on Twitter. Then a friend sent me an Instagram DM. I went and saw the video and all I can tell you is my mouth DROPPED open. Like most people, I thought it was a skit… until Will Smith started shouting profanities from his seat. What the hell?! 

There are several reasons why I will NOT applaud Will Smith’s behavior, the first of which is: absolute wrong time, wrong place for that nonsense. Period. Now, I have already said that I don’t watch the Oscars so it isn’t like I have undying respect for the program, however, when I was growing up my parents had one main rule: “don’t leave this house and embarrass our family.” Will Smith embarrassed himself, lessened his own Oscar moment, and demolished the Oscar moment that Questlove should have had and for what? Because he didn’t like a joke? Is he 53 or 5? Are you telling me that a cheesy ass joke by a presenter was harsh enough for Will Smith to mar his own award ceremony? Is this real life? 

The second reason I was appalled by Will Smith’s behavior is that what he did last night is, in no way, “protecting” his wife. On that front, Jada is the one who often puts their business out on the social media streets. Chris Rock was not the only host/presenter who commented on the Smiths, but he was the only one that got slapped. Slapping Chris Rock does what for Jada? Does it make Chris Rock NOT want to clown them again? No. I am sure that if the gathering was not the Oscars, Chris Rock would have busted both of them down relentlessly. If he wanted to take the spotlight off Jada and her bald head, he clearly didn’t do that either since all of us are writing, tweeting and making videos about the situation today. How is slapping someone on live television “protecting” your wife? Protecting her from what? Cheesy jokes? Will could have, just as easily, STAYED IN HIS FUCKING SEAT and yelled that Chris wasn’t funny, since he ended up yelling anyway. He could have heckled Chris. Hell, he SHOULD have met him backstage after that segment and whispered in his ear on some “I don’t appreciate my wife being the butt of your jokes, let’s not have to have this conversation again” Soprano type shit. He could have done one hundred other things besides putting his hands on someone on live TV.

Finally, I spend my days teaching my child that hitting is wrong. She is five. FIVE and she has already been told too many times that little boys who hit her just “do that because they like you so much”. I think the fuck not. Hitting someone to show affection to that person (or someone else) is wrong. Physically assaulting Chris Rock was NOT the answer last night. Now look, if Will and Chris were at Will’s house and Chris was going on and on about how much of a bitch Jada was… hands. All day. If they were on the street and Will was talking about fucking Chris’ wife… hands. All day. If one of those men grabbed and abused the other’s wife… muthafucking HANDS. All day. But a joke about a bald head? Nah fam. It is very much giving that Will thought it was funny but noticed that Jada didn’t think so, so he had to go play Billy Bad Ass. Nope. That is not self defense or defense of others. That is showing the world that you have zero control over yourself and your household. Get yourself to a therapist’s office and talk that out. 

End of the day: Will Smith assaulted Chris Rock on a show that was being televised internationally. For what amounted to nothing. He should be embarrassed and ashamed to have displayed that behavior in public. And now everytime anyone mentions his Oscar win, they will then tell the story of how Will ASSAULTED a presenter at the same ceremony. I really should not have to continue to tell grown people to KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF.

Soulful Saturday - Day Well Spent

You know what? Sometimes you need some time with friends to really remember what is important in this life. I'm not talking about acquaintances-- I am talking about friends who know your secrets and still love you; friends that will tell you "uh, you know you are wrong for that" when you need to hear it; friends that call your parents mom and dad; friends that love your baby like she is their baby. 

Sometimes your mind needs you to be in close proximity to folks who just GET YOU. So you don't feel like you are losing yourself in fear, or guilt, or any other emotion that is presently all encompassing. Sometimes only close friends can bring a smile to your face and help you forget- even for a short time- that life can be grating. 

These last 16 months or so has been an especially horrid time for most of us. We have lived through some awful shit (and some of us haven't made it through). We have seen each other on Zoom, at the grocery store scrounging for the last fruits and vegetables, at funerals and masked up from six feet away. We have been cocooned in our homes, away from some of our loved ones. Since I got vaccinated I have been able to see a few friends, in very controlled situations. I am glad to say that today I was able to meet up with some buddies of mine, in a park, and really just kick it. Don't get me wrong, we have a text thread that is well used, because they don't live here, but it was just so nice to see their faces. The weather cooperated (mostly) and we were able to just shoot the shit, gossip and laugh. Me? I got to pet ALL the dogs and run from ducks and geese... and escape my house for a few hours. Can only be described as pure joy. Pure joy. 

Who asked Wendy? Oh, Nobody?

Wendy Williams is a bitter bitch, but not in a good way. At this point we have all seen the “Hot Topics” section where she degraded Tabitha Brown’s decision to help her husband retire from being an officer of the Los Angeles Police Department. Wendy started out by saying “Nope, I was married to one of those.” No ma’am, you were married to an abusive, serial cheater who made you look like an asshole in public, by knocking up some young broad and gallivanting all over the world with her. Sis, have several seats and stop commenting on other people's marriages.  

Now listen- we have all had heartache, and we all see other people’s situation through our lived experiences. However, at some point we ALL need to realize that OUR experiences are not everyone else’s path. Now, I trust my very close friends to listen and give opinions on my marriage because they know me… and they do not hesitate to tell me when I am tripping. They have saved Mr. Hot, Black and Bitter’s life a couple times AND told me to get my shit together more than a few times. Let me say this again: they KNOW me. Well, Wendy started off the segment by saying that she doesn’t even know Tabitha Brown. Let me stop you right there- shut thee fuck up, then. She used what is a huge platform to shit on this lady’s marriage and plans she made with her husband because Kelvin made Wendy look like a fool on the national stage. If you don’t know her or her husband, why are you over here spouting relationship “advice”? 

Tabitha Brown came back on her YouTube channel and read Wendy FOR FILTH in the most Christian way and Wendy deserved every sentence of ridicule. If the last year has taught us nothing, we should have, at the very least, learned to mind the business that fucking pays you. Wendy should keep her mouth off other people’s relationships because when she was going through that embarrassing shit with Kelvin, she didn’t want to talk about her relationship. If a couple makes an agreement that they will alternate who brings in the most money during a certain time in their marriage, mind your business. If a couple agrees that person A will work outside the home, while person B keeps the home, mind your fucking business. If their decisions don’t affect YOUR purse, mind.your.fucking.business. Tabitha’s take down of Wendy was so epic, I forwarded it to my parents… because I am petty and I thought it was funny. I included the video below. Because I’m petty and I think it is funny. Wendy, get you some business, bitch. 

Annnnnd, I'm back!

 Yo. What’s up? Been awhile. 

I had to take a break from writing for a bit. This last year and a half has been ROUGH, to say the least. Like a lot of folks, I have been in survival mode; shit, not only that, I’ve been in my feelings. Tough. 

Now I know that some of y’all think that I am just some Hot, Black and Bitter bitch on the internet… which I am, but that is just a percentage of my dynamic personality. I am also a mom, wife, daughter and go to person for a lot of folks. And this worldwide pandemic and political unrest in the United States has (understandably) taken its toll on me and my people. Y’all, I been tired. TIRED, you hear me? Shit has been crazy. And I know I am not the only one. 

So I have been dealing with some other shit. I have been to (too) many funerals. I have been minding my business and taking care of my people. And I have been (relatively) quiet- definitely on the blog, but I have also slowed down on everything social with the exception of Twitter. Rest assured, my silence does not equal a lack of opinions… it just means that instead of typing them out, I told them to my husband- even when he didn’t want to hear them. 2020 was wild. 2021 ain’t a million times better, know that. I am sure that stories from the last eighteen to twenty months will be reflected in some upcoming blog posts, so y’all will read what has been going down ‘round these parts. You'll see some changes and hopefully you'll see more blog posts.

Here lately, things have lightened up (a bit) and I have been back on my plotting and planning, so get ready for some more high class bullshit, loud (right) opinions and a little bit of tomfoolery. Hilarity will ensue. You will laugh and I will bask in my Hot, Black and Bitterness. Let’s get after it.

 

Kirk Franklin Owes His SON An Apology

So hey! What’s up? What’s been good? How y’all doing? It has been a while. Who me? Oh, I have just been dealing with this global pandemic bullshit… you know, keeping my ass at home, washing my hands, wearing my mask and waiting on the distribution of these vaccines and stimulus checks. But that is another blog post for another day because Y’ALL I have been on these interwebs and the tea is just overflowing my mug, darlings. 

Now I am generally a little late to the party on breaking news. I see it, read the details and keep it moving. So, this weekend I was just surfing, like I do, and I saw the now infamous video of the “conversation” that Kirk Franklin had with his son. That shit was not a conversation- it was some bullshit and little Kirk Franklin needs to put on his big boy pants and apologize to his son. Now look, I know that I am in the minority here, but I am going to go ahead and explain how I got to this RIGHT answer. Ok? Here we go:

First, I am going to put this in the context of my life. I am a parent and I have parents. My kid and I have a good relationship and my parents and I rock with each other… tough! I love them. They live down the street and we speak at least three times a week (sometimes three times a day). I know what y’all see on this blog, but believe it or not, I don’t curse in front of my parents and I am NOT disrespectful. Never will be. I was raised with respect and I give respect. Just like that. I know me, right? So when there has ever been a problem, I (as quickly as I can) remove myself from the situation. Why? Mostly because my mouth is too slick. I know that once you say shit, you can’t take it back. So if I KNOW I can’t rein in my tongue (and attitude) I just don’t say shit. I am raising a daughter and I don’t want her to have any sort of complex because of the relationship that she has with me. It really is that simple. 

Now, Kirk Franklin- who made a few Jesus songs- is getting a pass for saying that he would “break his foot off in his son’s ass” and that he would “break his son’s neck.” Then he was screaming the N word at the top of his lungs like he was talking to a stranger that just stepped on his new church shoes. Sir. Ma’am. First of all, if y’all have read any of my posts you know I am not giving not one pass to the evangelicals, singers, preachers, YouTubers, authors, cousins, aunties, uncles, friends or acquaintances. I am NOT giving a pass to anyone, friends. You come out in the public, acting like an asshole, and I may comment on it. It is a chance you take. Kirk Franklin ain’t getting a pass, I don’t care how many melodies from heaven renditions he sings. What he did was wrong. That is no way to speak to your children. And let me just add, too many of y’all out here excusing those threats because you have been threatened like that before. Just because it happened to YOU and you survived does not mean that is A1 parenting and that you should do the same to your children. And if you mad, get a cape and be super mad. Stop spreading dysfunction. PERIOD. 

Back to Kirk, do y'all know that he came out with a rebuttal video where that little asshole had the absolute nerve to come out and apologize TO THE PUBLIC but didn’t have it in his short statured body to apologize to his son. What??

His son is a whole grown man and if he has questionable behavior maybe, just maybe, that is how he taught himself to be while little ol’ Kirk was spending the days and hours of his formative years running these streets addicted to porn. <SHADE> Maybe the son models his adult life after the life he saw Kirk living when he was growing up. Don’t come for me- I remember the controversies from before some of y’all were alive. Your children are people. Trust me- they will get on your last good nerve. They do. I’m not saying don’t discipline them. I’m not saying to raise disrespectful ingrates. But you, as the parent, need to lead by example. If you would apologize to the public for losing your temper because it is going to affect your bankroll… you should be man enough to apologize to your flesh and blood for treating them like shit and threatening them. And if you don’t want to apologize,WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. If your children never see you apologize, or they never experience you apologizing to them for bad behavior, you are willingly raising children who will not apologize when they should. You are not raising well rounded kids. You are failing your children. Stop that bullshit ASAP. It is not healthy.

Now unclutch those pearls, ma’am, throw on some church music and get ready for the comeback of Hot, Black and Bitter. 

Now WE are in this Together?

I am sure all of us have heard that y'all's president has tested positive for that 'rona. What you may not have heard is that 'WE' has become a thing. Like before Mango Mussolini was all like "oh the sick people? They will be ok" or "this virus only affects a small number of people" or "this is like a bad flu- even if you get it, most of you will be fine" and my absolute least favorite "it is what it is." See how he was real confident with that 'you, y'all, they' talk until 'rona got his ass. Now he is (barely) on Twitter and talking bout "WE will get this through this together!" Sir. 

There is no 'WE.' WE left when you and that squirrel on your head (and that birtherism shouting plastic pair of tits by your side) rode down that tacky ass escalator and declared that most Mexicans coming into our country were rapists and criminals. WE ran for the door when you fixed your shit mouth to say that there were very fine people on both sides in Charlottesville. WE left your ass when you called our service men and women "suckers and losers." WE ain't been a thing since you said that George Floyd would be proud of the job numbers that came out after he was murdered by the police; when you refused to denounce white supremacy; when you were hellbent on putting the absolutely WORST and severely unqualified people in control of Treasury and Education (and literally EVERYWHERE else in government); when you stood up for that man that shot and killed folks in Kenosha; when you lied to the whole country about the coronavirus. 'WE' doesn't exist. Mostly because WE don't like YOU. 

You're a bum who lost the popular vote. You are an impeached president that is dirtier than Nixon and dumber than W. The only reason I am not cheering that 'rona got that ass is because my mother taught me better than that... but I want to. I don't want you to die though. I don't. I want you to suffer. I want you to suffer for all the dummies that believe your lies. I want you to suffer for all the lies that you have told the American people, for all the (many) times you have made this country look foolish. I want you to feel some pain for EVERY American life lost to this horrible virus because YOU couldn't be bothered to put on a mask and show a little leadership. And I want you to be alive long enough to lose the upcoming election, spectacularly, and then be carted off to prison like the criminal you are. 

There is no 'WE', you baby back bitch. We are going to shower your ass with as much sympathy as you have shown to the 209,000+ dead Americans taken by covid so far. Enjoy.

Soulful Saturday - Hall & Oates

So I was just on Twitter, being nosy... as one does, and noticed someone started a "soulful White singers" thread. Now y'all know I went through that list with my hawk eye ALL the way open to see who folks thought belonged on this list. Thankfully, the list included good music and didn't list too many sympathy votes (oh, y'all know who I'm talking about). I was pleasantly surprised to see Hall & Oates listed. Then I went to YouTube, you know to refresh this old mind, and I am just coming out of that rabbit hole!

Hall & Oates made some fantastic music. What better way to welcome back Soulful Saturday than to include these icons? This is totally a "Welcome Back Hot, Black and Bitter... now get your lazy ass in gear and actually post to your blog instead of just social media" gift to myself. I'll take it! As we welcome the cooler temperatures of the Fall, I will be spending more time here on the blog... listening to good music, dropping my opinions and reporting on the abundance of fuck shit happening in my country. So, until shit gets too real let's listen to some kick ass 70's and 80's soft rock, shall we?

Maneater - AKA the Hot, Black and Bitter theme song... when I was single. LOL

I Can't Go For That Sara Smile **When you feel cold, I'll warm you. When you feel you can't go on, I'll come and hold you. It's you and me, Sara Smile.** You Make My Dreams PS- It is the leather pants for me! LOL

As For Me and My House...

It has been a while! Last year I was telling y'all how fucked up my high school was and how I was permanently putting them on the "pay them no mind" list and now... we have a worldwide pandemic on our hands. 2020 has been a ride of clusterfuckery (is that a word? Did I just make up a new word? Y'all check Urban Dictionary and add my shit... and give me credit! Ha!) All that to say, a lot has changed in the last four months. Today marks my family's 21st day of lockdown. Twenty one long ass days, yo! Last day of school for Little Lady K was March 12, hubs has been going to his doctor appointments and we have been getting groceries about once a week. That's it. Your girl is taking lots of deep breaths and drinking more, if I'm being honest. Central Ohio weather hasn't really been cooperating, either. Having a three year old in the house ALL day is... challenging. I'll save those stories for the mommy blog but y'all will NOT guilt me over extended screen time, ok. Don't try me, bitches. But, as for me and MY house... we will remain on lockdown until further notice.

It is getting close to 2PM. In a few minutes my Governor, Mike DeWine is going to have his daily news conference about Ohio's pandemic numbers. He is also going to talk about (and probably prohibit) Church gatherings for the foreseeable future. Now listen, I am always the first to laugh and joke and call myself a heathen on these internet streets. I call myself a heathen in front of my parents (mostly because they know, like nobody else, that it is true), but the truth of the matter is: me and Jesus have a relationship. We go together. He knows my heart. We talk. I grew up in the Church; was a Deacon's kid; got baptized and led our Bible trivia team to victory several years (in a row). I know the Word. I just cuss a little bit. Ok... a lot. I cuss a lot.

Back to DeWine (this lockdown makes my mind wander). So, it is my understanding that churches have seen what is going on during this worldwide pandemic and have been like... "Jesus saves; God will protect; y'all better be in these pews on Sunday." Sir. Ma'am. WHAT?!? Now listen: as noted above, I have been to church. A LOT. Fellowship is important. It helps you navigate this thing called life, BUT... ain't no way y'all should be gathering together on Sundays and breathing on one another. What is wrong with y'all? The state of Ohio isn't letting us have funerals or gatherings of more than 10 people and y'all trying to come together for full services on Sundays? You know what is more important than being around people you not so secretly talk about every day EXCEPT Sunday? Breathing.

Jesus gave us all discernment. He gave some of us wisdom. He gave most of us this thing called the internet. The only way churches should be getting together for services is over a lifestream. Stop endangering your parishioners. Stop being stupid and blaming it on God. Use some common sense and stay at home.

Pinky Promise

As Thanksgiving weekend comes to an end, I figured I should tell y’all what I did this week.  This past week most have taken to social media to state what they are thankful for. Some answers are pragmatic, right? Folks are grateful for their jobs, a place to live, the ability to provide for their family. Some answers are based in religion. People are glad that their higher power has given them another day to strike a mark and leave an impression on this Earth, their country, their community. What am I grateful for? Family Over Everything.

This year, our family was hit with some health challenges, very unexpectedly. Many of you know that the youngest sibling is 9 and I am the oldest (and it is totally none of your business how old I am... just know that I am NOT 9!) Currently our 10 year old sister is being treated for bone marrow failure. Now if you are like me, you have no idea what that is or how to fix it! So, a few things: the major function of bone marrow is to produce blood cells. Red blood cells (oxygen giving), white blood cells (infection fighting) and platelets (helps blood clot so you don’t bleed to death from a simple cut). So, simply (because I went to law school not medical school... for a reason) bone marrow functionality is necessary for life, and bone marrow failure is all bad. It isn’t cancer but my sister is being treated on the oncology floor and some of her treatment includes chemotherapy.

When we found out that she was going to go through chemo, one of her concerns was losing her hair. I gave her the speech I have given all of my friends going through chemo. “If you lose your hair, I’ll cut mine too! We will be twins!” Because truly, no one should be bald alone. It is a small sacrifice so that a 10 year old (or a 40 year old) doesn’t feel so alone while going through life sustaining treatment. Well, she hasn’t lost her hair! What to do, what to do!!

Sooo- we had another discussion and I told her that since chemo didn’t take her hair, I would dye my hair her favorite color. What is my 10 year old sister’s favorite color, you ask? Pink. Last Tuesday I went into a salon with regular, smegular dark brown hair... oh, but now... I’m the Black version of Frenchie from Grease. Baby, this hair is PINK. Like, the color of Peppa Pig. Like, that Bubbalicious gum from my youth. Pink, like... pink. And I’d do it again. Family over EVERYTHING.

She Will Know Her Power

"Red And Yellow Dance" found here

It has been five days. I am assuming that the leadership of my former school, having been silent so far, is circling the wagons and coming up with some talking points about my last blog entry. While they make plans, let me clarify a few things:


1. Before the argument makes the rounds, my beef with the school is NOT personal and I am not an angry Black woman/former Board member. If that were the case, I would have a. Reported the misdeeds in June when they happened; b. I would have named names; and c. I would have mentioned the actual “personal” story that happened when my husband and I were attempting to enroll our daughter at the school. I did none of those things. The Alumnae Board has (or had) bylaws. These bylaws were available to everyone, in fact, last I looked they are on the school’s main website. One of the new co-presidents of the Alumnae Board disregarded the bylaws and stole a leadership position. And she was allowed to do that by school leadership. That is what happened. Those are the facts. In June, when this was happening, I strongly opposed this and my opinion was dismissed. I sent my resignation letter, including alternative proposals, to the entire Board and school leadership-- so they have KNOWN exactly where I stood. For four months. And they have said and done nothing.

As for the “angry Black woman” situation- I have been a part of this small society since eighth grade. I know that when I disagree with the status quo, someone is going to say that I am just angry and somehow my actions are making people feel uncomfortable or anxious. Or my reaction is detrimental to our "community." To that I say: if my sitting at the table and calling you out on your noted racial and/or socioeconomic inequality makes you anxious or hurts your feelings… enjoy that anxiety, because I am not going anywhere.

2. The fallout from my blog post is that a lot of ladies now feel comfortable sharing their stories and their experiences- good and bad. And I am happy about that. There is no way that the school will pretend to, I mean, embark on fixing its strained relationship with some of their alumnae if we don’t band together and MAKE THEM SEE US. I spent five years highlighting the good experiences of our classmates while I was on the Board. Just like the good, our bad experiences should be dealt with swiftly and in public. If the school has wronged you as an alumnae, they should be brought to task about that. I will gladly be the face of a movement towards the school making amends. They need to and we need to demand that they do so, immediately.

3. I will remain transparent in what I want from the school. I want an apology from them, specifically from the woman who stole her position on the Board and the two women in charge who allowed her to do it. I want some guarantees that set in stone rules will not be broken again. I want to see more diversity (racial and socioeconomic) in charge of alumnae relations and (eventually) I want to speak with the school about the situation that took place concerning my daughter. Essentially, I want the school to show some of that “good behavior” that they supposedly instilled in us when we were students there. I have said and will continue to say- they need to work better with alumnae. And the school cannot work well with us if they continue to treat us like shit AND we allow them to get away with it.

4. As a reread my first post, I know that it seemed as if I was out on a limb by myself, like EVERY Board member left me in the wind. That is not true. I had four ladies who vocally opposed the coup that the school allowed. I appreciate them more than they know. There are ladies who stood up against this. There are ladies who know that this is wrong and said so. I am not the only person who left the Board. There ARE women who have enough backbone to stand up against this bullshit being shoveled in our direction. Some of those ladies are speaking their truth now. Listen: as a feminist I really believe that ALL women bring something to the table. We gain nothing by being bitchy or excluding people. You cannot feed the needs of your people (in this case alumnae of a private school) if only a portion of your people are represented. If that portion is almost solely rich, White women, you stand to alienate an ever growing number of people in your community. If you allow your representatives to come in and do whatever they want, rules be damned, because they can write you a big check, you will alienate (and infuriate) your base. If you teach young women to speak up when they see some wrongs… be ready to be brought to task about the wrong shit you do. I will not go away. I will not let this bad behavior continue. I will not be silenced.

I've Packed Up My Unicorns

More than a couple Unicorns have asked me why I have stepped away from the place that connects us. It is true that my involvement with our common institution came to an abrupt halt at the end of June. After five years of active participation and one year as the face/email signature of our alumnae association, ladies have hit me up to see why they don’t hear from me anymore and why they don’t see me at events. Woo- there is SO much. I have come to the point where I am rational enough to properly convey what happened without using my signature “colorful” language. I wasn’t sure that I would ever post this or publicly say anything about what happened because, generally, people are taught to move on from bad situations and say nothing. However, yesterday, one of my attorney buddies on Twitter pointed out that folks are “used to getting away with rude stuff because people are taught to be polite and not call things out. Bullshit to that.” Bullshit, indeed.

This establishment that we share, this Columbus institution, was built on the idea that empowering girls will help them find their way as learners and leaders. I discovered my potential as a leader well before I was in the safe confines of our small college preparatory society. Being a leader has never been an issue for me. My leadership style is simple: I, transparently, do what is best for the greater good. I do it without bullshit. I’ll tell you if we can swing something, or if it needs to wait. If I disagree with a proposal, I will let you know; and if you tell me something in confidence, that is where it will stay. I am a vault.

So, that is what you get from me, transparent, no nonsense leadership AND I am, and always will be, fiercely loyal. If I rock with you, and you need me, there is no doubt that I will do whatever I can. I mean, if we make it to be friends, you damn near have to spit in my face for me not to fuck with you anymore. But once you cross the line, our level of trust will never go back to 100%. I said all that to say: four months ago, the place where we spent our formative years, where we grew up together… spit in my face. Now listen: more than one thing happened, please know that, but the absolute end of my patience? I was unceremoniously and unjustly left out of a huge decision that I most certainly should have been involved in. The person that would eventually take my place purposely worked around me, created an environment where she could be in charge and never, not once, apologized or took responsibility (and I am sure that she will never). Then she had the audacity to “thank me for my service” in a newsletter. Y’all. And the administration at our shared institution… did nothing. Ladies who told me their issues with the woman in question kept quiet because they didn’t want to rock the boat and folks just moved on like it was just another day.

Now listen: While I may deliver my words in a very straightforward way, I don’t do mean girl shit. I do not believe that women have to be pit against one another for one to rise to the top. I think that women who have to do sneaky shit to meet their personal goals are pathetic. I firmly believe that there is enough shine for everyone to have some, and it may just be the law school in me, but I also think that folks should be able to talk shit out. Not completely out of line thinking for an all girls school, right? A place that is supposed to foster the spirit of young women should be a safe place, right?

So that is why you haven’t seen me around, or sharing their events on Facebook. You will not see me at any events in the near future either. What happened to me was… unprofessional, inexcusable, unkind and, perhaps most importantly, undeserved. So, I have packed up my collection of unicorns (along with some wonderful memories AND the thought of my daughter following in my footsteps in those halls) and put them in the back of the closet. The WAY BACK. No telling if or when they will ever make another appearance.

The Long Way Home

I took the long way home on Sunday. It was a beautiful day in central Ohio, hot but not not hell-like. Eighty-seven degrees with a wonderful breeze; the sun helping my skin to darken to a deep cappuccino color. After weeks of being part of a duo (with Baby K) twenty-four/seven, I finally escaped the house... ALONE. By myself. I barely knew what to do! Even though I was by myself, I still had shit to do... so I clipped some digital coupons and went to the grocery store. (I'm fancy like that).

I jumped in hubs' car, backed out of the garage and drove away from the brick and buttercup colored fortress that I had been holed up in for the last few weeks. Our house is comfortable, very comfortable, but I was happy to see it in the rear view mirror! After weeks of being in a chilly air conditioned house, I rolled down the windows and let the breeze blow through my hair. Best thing about hubs' car? Satellite radio with a 90s channel. A 90s music channel, y'all.

Now, I don't really know what happened on my ride. Now-a-days getting alone time is a high. I remember that my hand was out the window, making peaks and valleys as the wind blew it up and down; my music was loud and during my singalong I did NOT use my inside voice. At one point 3AM by Matchbox 20 was on and there is NO WAY y'all could convince me that I was not matching Rob Thomas in vocals and intensity. Listen... that crosswalk has never seen anyone like me before. Hold on- I just started humming that song again.

When I tell you that I am the QUEEN of 90s music, I mean it. My high school and college years were filled to the brim with fantastically angsty tunes, now categorized as "classics." I too am a classic. I know all their words, all the beats, all the ad libs. I will school folks who ride shotgun. I feel no shame. Ever. My car concerts can only be described as... EPIC, one of a kind, showstopping, (sometimes) better than the original (not to toot my own horn or anything). I'm quite good, especially with the music of my teenaged years). Cue that Tonic song "If you could only see the way she loves me, then maybe you would understand." YES!! I needed that time away-- and I needed those tunes. I needed to be reminded of yesterdays.

If I am being honest, this year has been trying. I have been so busy volunteering, mom-ing and wife-ing that I have been dragged away from being me. I have been lax with the things that relax me- reading, writing and acting a fool. I have just been all over the place, pulled in a million different directions and you know what? Sometimes life is just like that. Little Lady K is growing, prospering and being kind, hubs has new work shit to talk about, but me? I have been experiencing Groundhog Day in different outfits. My days look the same, my nights are long because someone is rejecting a sleep schedule (in the name of Jesus). But this has to stop. I need to get back to being well rounded. I need books. I need this blog as an outlet. So, I have decided to get back on my shit. Less Facebook... more writing. I took the long way, but here I am. Home.

Absence Makes the Ass Grow... Fatter?

Ok. It has been a couple months... I think I can finally talk about this. I think Spring is going to be my season, so I can talk about what happened to me during Winter. I only have one request... please be gentle with me. After what happened, I am in a very vulnerable place. Ok-- here we go:

Y'all, I have been traumatized. I should have known better than to leave the house. It was as if there was a shit filled cloud floating over me at the beginning of 2019. First, Baby K got sick- and that is a WHOLE thing. She isn't very sickly, so when she does actually catch a cold, the clingy level in this house goes to 100. And now that she can talk, she is like expert level guilt tripper-- but that is another story for another day. Baby K got sick the first week of January. I had been stuck in the house for so long that I was forgetting what outside looked like, so I talked to Lefty and while Baby K was asleep I took my happy hips to the grocery store. Some time away, just what I needed, right? uh... y'all know better than that. Let the shit show begin.

First, I took Lefty's car-- just in case there was a need to run to the doctor or the house caught on fire. Plus, who wants to move a toddler seat over and over again? It was weird, because I have a small SUV and Lefty drives a smaller sedan, so it felt like I was riding on the ground in this car. Made it to the store without incident, did some damage at Meijer-- they take ALL my money. I didn't even have to hit anyone with my cart (on this particular trip). Magical, right? So I head outside to pack my newly purchased groceries in the car and go back home to a sick kid.

Two things need to be mentioned here: 1. I halfway forgot that I drove Lefty's car. Here I was out in the parking lot looking for my tall Honda Element, when I suddenly remembered that I should be looking for a Nissan Sentra. Sigh. 2. If you are not familiar with central Ohio winter weather, let me give you some insight- it is fucking cold. There may not be snow, but trust me, you WILL freeze your tits off. So even a short search in a parking lot will lead the nicest person to scream profanities-- and I am not nice-- so now you know what my state of mind was when I finally reached Lefty's car.

I unlock the trunk, put in the heavy bags and head to the unlock the door (so I can turn on the car and the heat) before loading the rest of my shit. Put the key in the lock and... nothing. NOT A DAMN THING. Door did not unlock. So I head over to the passenger side... nope, there is not a lock on the passenger side and I (stable genius that I can be) left the little clicker at home. Piece of shit. So I am outside, freezing my fat ass off, unable to get in the car. So, what do I do? Call my partner in crime to a. complain about his shitty car (that used to be MY car, so you think I would know better) and b. to cry (without tears because... cold).

What did Lefty do? Laugh. And I am not talking a small chuckle. I am telling you, my situation tickled his WHOLE soul. As I am complaining about this unfortunate turn of events I remember that the trunk is open and I can get into the cabin of the car... through the trunk. Oh shit, y'all. I pull the little levers that unlock the back seat, move the heavy groceries to the side... and prepare to get in the trunk like some super agent spy. Let's keep in mind-- I am multitasking like a fucking BOSS because I am still on the phone with Lefty. I do a quick look around, to make sure that 1. no one will steal my groceries that are still in the cart next to the car and 2. no one is recording my ass getting into the trunk of this car. I am not ready for that YouTube fame just yet. I don't see anyone, so I do what can only be described as a mermaid dive into Lefty's trunk and proceeded to slither my fat ass from the trunk into the back seat. Breathing heavily, I was able to press the door (un)lock button, climb out the back seat, load the rest of the groceries AND THEN... I could not find the car key. Y'all.

The key was on the floor in the backseat. It had fallen out of my pocket after I unlocked all the doors. I loaded the groceries in the trunk, put my cart away, beat it home and didn't leave the house for another week because fuck that, I don't need that kind of life changing negativity in my life. I am still traumatized... I don't even want to ride in Lefty's car. That bitch is like Christine. I am convinced she is trying to kill me. May Spring bring me some good mojo because I need it after that. Good mojo and an updated cardio regime because I was out of breath until I was almost halfway home. Wooooo, mercy.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way, Part III

Happy (almost) Christmas. Here is the continuation of the "41 Golden Rules..." 

Lesson 21: Do something scary. Listen: I have moved (three times) to different cities where I had no family. And let me tell you something: I *made* that work. Nashville, Chicago and Lansing, Michigan. I made friends, I got jobs and I made a life. And I do not regret it for a moment. 

Lesson 22: Don't let fraternity boys take you out for your 21st birthday. Baby, just know that I am looking out for your best interests with this. And extra advice: if someone offers you a "three wisemen" shot, just say no and walk out that bitch. Your stomach lining will thank you... You are welcome. 

Lesson 23: Listen. Really listen. Do not offer advice. Do not respond. Just be there and listen. Somebody needs it. Trust me. 

Lesson 24: YOUR dreams should come first. Never doubt that-- you were given an idea FOR A REASON. Make those dreams a reality. 

Lesson 25: Send handwritten, sincere notes. Etiquette 101 never fails you. 

Lesson 26: People CAN change, but you can't MAKE them. Your best bet is to walk away before things get REALLY bad... and meet back up when that person regains their senses. 

Lesson 27: Be kind. Self explanatory.

Lesson 28: Don't overstay your welcome. On stage, at a sleepover or at a job.

Lesson 29: Your friends are not EXACTLY like you... and that is ok. 

Lesson 30: Do what you love... or (honestly) what you can stand at the moment. Life is not always going to be rosy. Sometimes you are going to hate your job. Sometimes you will want to punch your relatives. Don't do it. Maintain some positive energy because the one thing about them tables... they always turn. 

Last 11 coming up right before the New Year!