Housekeeping stuff

There are some ads that will begin showing up on my sidebar compliments of BlogHer Ads. I’m always so very ten minutes ago. It took 4 separate people asking me and a fantastic Haiku from their people to get me to fill out the paperwork.

Contests! Prizes!

Starting next week there will be some contests going on to win an HP Photo Album. I’m giving away 4 of them. In the meantime, take some Fall pictures as that will be the theme. You know…leaves, pumpkins, football, caramel apples, stilettos… what ever strikes your fancy. It could even be Halloween costume pictures. I’ve been scouring the gorgeous trees here and trying to find some orange leaves and photography shots that make me catch my breath. Easy to do in my neck of the woods.

School Related

Finally, Dana asked some questions the other day that required longer than my own comments had time to respond to, so I’ll answer them here.

What I view in the schools I’ve worked in has been so similar that it gives me a frightening view of what probably happens all over this country. Blacks and Whites don’t always interact in social situations at school (lunchroom, outside, sporting events) as much as I would think they would. Sure, there are many who choose their friends based on other important things, but many of them still seem segregated.

The unwritten rules are just like you said, but they are based on a long tradition and kids at school are just playing out what they see at home most of the time. There is a lot of interaction, though, but I know they are mirroring the behavior they’ve grown up with and there is caution there. Too much caution, if you ask me. It prevents us getting to know one another. That’s easier said than done because I’m overt and all kinds of words that are opposite of SHY.

Oddly enough, the kids I work with are also steeped in a “North Side” kind of pride in this town and will back one another up at any time based on where they’re from and their loyalty knows no color when it comes to that.

Love! Valor! Racism!

There are always so many good comments to read on many of the topics I throw up (no, seriously. Throw up. Take it as you will.) but the equal number of e-mails on the subject are mind boggling. That tells me two things: you honestly want to express yourself in writing and perhaps there is still some fear in saying things in a public forum.

However, Liza gently reminded me that it isn’t just racism. I would never say to her, “You know you remind me of this OTHER lesbian I know…” because if she reminds me of someone it’s another human being. My heart goes out to her for dealing with that kind of ignorance on a daily basis. Because, of course, as we all know, ALL LESBIANS KNOW ONE ANOTHER AND PROBABLY WANT TO TURN ME INTO A LESBIAN,TOO. Because that’s how The Gay are.

Even Tracy, my sister, expressed this to me as I just read in an e-mail. One of the many questions she brings up is this one:

How do we, on the BLACK end, address people in situations like this?

And I’m sick and tired of the question always being, “How do I, as a White person, relate to Black people? Poor, scared little me. I’m so afraid of saying something wrong blah blah blah…”

Anyone within earshot of my mouthy rantings knows that I would respond with snark. It is a gift, this snarkiness.

I know what you mean. I, myself, don’t know how to relate to White people. I mean, why do you people (fill-in-the-blank here)? You’re just so… hard to relate to. Always touching my hair and asking these questions. Geez. Y’all are weird.

But, hey Fam. If you have something you’d like to add to that, feel free in the comment section. Help a sista out.

A Meme Done My Way

I haven’t gotten a meme request in a while because of the lameness-that-knows-no-bounds on my part. But when I got this one the other day and realized that Lovebabz was heading to serve her prison sentence soon, how could I refuse? Still, I have to be different so here goes:

The rules are to list 7 random facts, but in going to Lovebabz’ site (English teacher that I am, that damn apostrophe has me wondering right now) I heard the always soulful Thelonius Monk on her Sonific Songfest and it got me thinking about the 7 songs I’m currently listening to that are all a little bit old school.

1. Step In The Name of Love by Andre Ward. Screw R. Kelly. This one is much better and reminds me that my family loves to dance. My sister, Erin, and I used to step in our living room growing up and this makes me want to go dance with her right now.

2. Where Do We Go From Here? by Staci Lattisaw and Johnny Gill. A little gospely sounding in that feel-good way. Church, anyone?

3. Trouble Man by Marvin Gaye. Makes me close my eyes and wish I were in a cafe in Belgium where he spent a lot of his later years. Still makes me sad to think of that talent gone from this planet. My head moves involuntarily to this song.

4. Baby Come To Me by Regina Belle. This song has been a favorite since I was young. Too young to have understood it, even. Great slow dancing song. Grab a partner and swoon appropriately.

5. Me And Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul. Oh, come on. You know you’ve listened to this song by yourself and tried to scream out, “Meeeeeee aaaaand Mrs. MRS. JONES!” at one time or another. A lovely symphonic accompaniment in this tune. Pour yourself a glass of wine and belt it out. You’ll feel better.

6. Shining Star by The Manhattans. Would anyone like to get a boy band together and choreograph something to this song? I can do jazz hands like nobody’s business.

7. Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough by Michael Jackson. Song. Totally. Stuck in my head. Can’t. Stop it. Mason keeps playing this when it’s his turn to do the dishes. I think he wants it to motivate him, but I just keep telling him to wash the dishes every night so I can hear the song when he plugs his iPod into the speakers near the kitchen. Little does he know…

Feel like doing a meme? Do it for Lovebabz and hand out some linky love. And listen to some good “old school” music this weekend.

There’s some weird stuff going on with my RSS feed so I changed the outlook to show two entries per page. Consider that my gift to you.

Also? Are you here? Because here’s what I learned last night: when I came back to the blog (because stupid stuff burns my butt and I can’t possibly stay quiet) and thought to myself, “Hmm. Wonder if I should write today.” it didn’t occur to me to tell anyone I was writing again. You know, go forth and multiply anyone who might have still been reading. But after having a conversation with The Californians I learned that word-of-mouth (read: send mass emails to people) is really the only thing that is bringing anyone here to my writing.

I have no earthly idea what to do with this information.

So while that’s stewing in my brain along the fact that I can’t possibly afford tickets to go see the *Pageant of the Masters at Laguna Beach this weekend (The Californians must be some wealthy people because the Midwestern Girl in me screamed at the top of my imaginary lungs, “WHAT? WHO CAN AFFORD TO SEE BEAUTIFUL ARTISTIC STUFF HERE AT THOSE PRICES?”) you can chew on this:

That’s my new purple haired friend, Heathervescent. She was awesome and made me want to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Next up: LeahPeah! I found this beauty hiding out in the backroom of Tangiers and since we got there early for the readings, we bonded. We’re BFFs now. I’m going to write all about it in my diary.

Then I met Kelly who showed us how she always wrote in green pen. She talked about the hair-washing and then broke my heart talking about her mother. But she is aptly named Kelly and I haven’t met a Kelly I didn’t like.

And then there was Erin who read from her high school journal to her teacher and I swear I was transported back into my classroom. Also, I stopped myself from heckling her because I was caught up in the malaise of her youthful prose.

Finally, I have to display this one for my own amusement:

Mallory tried on my clothes from high school. Those are button-fly jeans and a Liz Claiborne sweater and man, the Bershon coming from that kid! That was me. Twenty years ago. I swear!

I need to add Lara to this who is adorable, has great shoes, and kindly picked me up for this event. Ain’t she cute?

*Note to Mallory (since I’m, ya know, a thousand miles away and you got mad at me for calling you last night and asked me (the first question out of your MOUTH, mind you) “Mom. Are you drunk dialing me?” only because of the enormous time change and now? Well, I’m going to write this down for the world to see and just to answer the current question in your head NO, I’M NOT DRUNK MESSAGING YOU, EITHER): Remember this from that Gilmore Girls episode? The coolness of it? Yeah, that’s what mommy can’t afford to go to this weekend. But wouldn’t it be supercool if we were superrich and could go to this superevent?

Edited to add links and a pic of Lara! Oh, and Neil! Neil came out to support us!

What do you say we make up a new euphemism for helping others out? We’re letting them “float in our froth”. That works, doesn’t it? All this love smothering in warm, frothy mochaccino love is today’s theme.

Everyone has a time they can remember when people helped them out and I am no exception. There was a time that my own two kids at the time weren’t going to have a Christmas and I mentioned to the babysitter that “…We’ll just focus on the true meaning of Christmas this year and bake the baby Jesus a birthday cake“. Which, you know, some people just can NOT handle. Invoking the baby Jesus and all when you’re looking rather pathetic with a 5 year old and an infant on your hip after pulling an all-nighter for final exams.

She wasn’t having any of that! No, no, no. She brought over gifts for all of us that year. A truckload. Literally. She drove up in her husband’s pickup truck with four other women who had all shopped in St. Louis on a trip and they picked up presents for us. Speechless doesn’t even begin to describe my response to her. Actually, some things really did come out of my mouth but they were all “Umm…wha..?…aaahhh.” and then I just bit my quivering lip until she enveloped me in her arms and I turned into a puddle of mush.

Angela from Fluid Pudding has helped me with my response back to you. She is lovely and frothy and someday we’ll meet again (I introduced myself to her at BlogHer and she didn’t think I had that cultish look about me) and I can report on how yummy she is. I’ll bet she smells like a pineapple upsidedown cake.

I’m certain she doesn’t smell like a turducken, but that’s just a guess. It was also a very lame segue, but we’re going with it, ok?

Recently, my officemate told me that she and her son do a cookoff every year with whatever holiday meat they’ve decided to feature. Her son’s doing some sort of fillet and she ordered a Cajun turducken.

Her: It’s going to be our very first turducken. I’m so excited!

Me: What the fucken’s a turducken?

Good times in my office. At least it got us thinking about having a little holiday cheer for the teachers and we’re going to bake for them this week. Where is all this domesticity coming from in me? Why do I want to put on an apron right now and listen to The Ultimate Tony Bennett CD? Where did my mojito mojo go?

I’ll get the mojo back once this week is over and I’ve shopped for the kids. Then, I can focus on mojito making. In the meantime, I’ve got a full cuppa Mocha right now.

You see those people pouring love into my Mocha cup? That’s you. All of you. Just opening up and pouring out and doing so willingly. Do you see those three kids in the cup? That’s Donnell and Christian and Tiffany. You’re pouring love on TOP of them! How nice of you! They all smell coffee-flavored for some reason. They’re floating in my froth. Our froth. Thanks for whipping it up with me.