Archive for the ‘Idle Chatter’ Category


The Missing Link

parkourLike many their age, my boys are completely amazed by the parkour action videos on YouTube. As defined by Wikipedia, parkour “is a holistic training discipline” in which a person runs, jumps, swings, or catapults their body using whatever obstacle within their reach to get from point A to B.

Sounds holistic, right?

Well, all of the YouFoolers around the world have turned this holistic training into something akin to stepping off rooftops and vaulting across moving cars. As such, my teenage sons are completely enthralled with parkour and thoroughly entertained by the inevitable broken limbs, missing teeth, and crushed family jewels that seem par for the course.

So, one day as they sat captivated in front of the computer monitor clicking from one disaster to the next – oohing and aahing, gasping and laughing – they stopped to ask me, “Mom, why do they do this stuff?” Without missing a beat, I grabbed a piece of paper and drew two large Xs on it.


I asked, “Do you know what this is?”

As only boys would, they responded, “uhm…Xs.”

As if talking to my kindergartner, I slowly nodded. (Didn’t want to risk losing them on this one.)

“These XXs represent the female chromosome.”

Next, I scribbled across one of the Xs so that now there was what appeared to be an XY.


“Now, what do you see?”

Blank stares.

I continued, “These are the XY chromosomes, representing the male species.”

Blank stares.

I then circled the spot where I’d scribbled on the X.


“This is where intelligence is located. The missing link. This explains why men will step in front of a speeding vehicle – on purpose – for laughs.”

Hence, the male mind. Science made simple.

Next class, please.


A Dose of Selfishness

Most of us attach negative thoughts to the word “selfish.” I’ve done it myself over the years. If a person thought about themselves first and foremost, I would call them selfish. These folks always manage to bring the focus back on them. Despite any concern you may wish to discuss, he or she always jumps in with a dose of themselves. Selfish.

I used to joke with my husband about his selfish ways when we first met. Whenever he started singing his version of Johnny Gill’s “My, My, My”, I would simply place my index finger in the center of the top of my head and twirl around. This was my demonstration to him that he was behaving as if the world revolved around him. It used to drive me insane. There I was running around like ”the sky is falling, the sky is falling,” and he would be focused on himself, smiling, and happy.


Holiday Blessing

On Christmas Eve I trekked to Washington D.C. to search for a gift that I thought I’d left in my office. Normally, I would simply wait until the next work day to retrieve any forgotten item, but since I was planning to be off for a few days I was willing to brave the bumper-to-bumper traffic and ridiculous parking prices for the occasion.

Typically, finding a curbside parking space in the city is doubtful, but as luck would have it there was an empty parking space just mere steps from my building door. Any other day, I would have thrown on my faux-New Yorker attitude and zipped into the space before someone else spotted it, but this time I hesitated.

Just steps from the coveted parking space stood a homeless man, layered in dirty clothing and blowing warmth to his hands. He stood silently, standing guard over a large blue waterproof tarp which covered piles of items on a park bench. I slowly drove up to the curb and debated over whether or not I wanted to park in the space. It wasn’t even that I was nervous or afraid of the man. Working in D.C., I see homeless people and panhandlers on a daily basis. Plus, it was broad daylight and the likelihood of anything happening on the busy street was unlikely. Rather, I paused because honestly (and quite shamefully) I didn’t want to deal with what would likely be someone begging for money.


High Road Detour

Where is this high road that folks are always talking about?!

Seems like every time I get poised and ready to give someone a good piece of my mind, then here comes the voice of reason telling me to take the high road. What is there to see on this so called high road? The way folks describe it, I’m thinking that it’s going to be a sugar-coated lane, paved with niceties and the smiling faces of the deaf, blind, and mute. Because apparently, on the high road, no one speaks their mind and only lukewarm cups of the truth are served.

So, forgive me if on occasion I choose to go off road and detour on the low-down, dirty track where I get to tell it like it is and call it like I see it. I can relieve my inner tension and let my tongue happily say Excuse me, your behind has clearly relocated to your shoulder region, you butthead! and be openly applauded for saying what others (on the high road) wanted to say. 

I get that there might be more potholes along this route, but honestly it sure feels more satisfying on this ride…at least for now.


Love Tug of War

Relationships can be so darn complicated sometimes…who am I kidding, most times. Things can be going so smoothly, then bam! all of a sudden you’re flailing your arms and trying to untangle yourself from the cobwebs of life that you unsuspectingly walked into.

Just yesterday, a friend of mine was sharing her woes about a tangled romantic web that she’s caught in. For years, she’d be in a quiet, unassuming, unspoken, committed relationship with a man. Sounds complicated already, right? You see, although they live in separate homes and live separate lives, they share responsibilities and a very intimate bond. Not intimate in the romantic sense, but a connection that will never be torn. They have a child.

Sure, she loves him but not in the I-can’t-sleep-I-can’t-eat kind of way. More like in the way that happens to people who put love on auto-pilot. She’d put thoughts of love up on a shelf because she was too busy raising her daughter, building her business, and being a “friend.” She didn’t need romance; she had reliable. And, she was content with that…or, at least that was what she said.  

Until she walked smack dab into love.

All of a sudden she was glowing. Entering from stage left is the new guy – Prince Charming. He was attentive, caring, protective, and romantic. He looked, smelled, and acted like looooooove.

(Umph, umph, umph. Don’t you remember the feeling?)

He stirred things up in her that she didn’t realize she was missing, and all of a sudden that old Saltines cracker didn’t taste so good anymore. She wanted the Ritz.

Problem is that even the Ritz is just a cracker. Although Prince Charming had all of the qualities that appealed to her as a woman, he also brought a few unsavory elements to the equation. Jealousy. Control. Insecurity. That’s when a woman wants to just fall to her knees and say “Dayum, dayum, dayum!!! Where was this part in the Happily Ever After tales that momma used to read?!”

So now she finds herself in a love tug of war, mentally trying to weigh the pros and cons of each relationship. Should she stick with the ol’ reliable man who perhaps isn’t the most romantic but who she shares history and a child with? Or, should she go out on a limb and follow Prince Charming who might just be a Saltines in disguise?


Six-Figure Broke

Notorious B.I.G. was on point when he lyricized mo’ money, mo’ problems back in 1997. Of course, his chump change was probably a year’s salary for most, but I understand what he was getting at. It seems like the more money I make, the more money I owe. The more hands come out. The more mouths to feed. The more Uncle Sam becomes an incestuous relative who is all up in my…well, you get the picture.

I just don’t know how to emancipate myself from this cycle of paycheck to paycheck, and I am dog tired of being six-figure broke.

(And, yes, I quoted Biggie. Baby, baby!)


Mental Constipation

It’s been a couple of weeks since my last post. Seems like I was suffering from a bit of mental constipation – writer’s block. It’s not something that happens often, but I think that a combination of stress and lack of rest have backed up my flow. Nevertheless, I feel movement!

Now that I’ve painted this disturbing visual, let me get back to my job of stanking up your thoughts with the going-ons in my head.

Aaaah…what a relief.



Don’t make me act like a man

In the book/movie “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man,” Steve Harvey seeks to provide the ladies with the answer key to the well-guarded man code. Most times, I tend to agree with what “Uncle Steve” shares with his fans on this subject, but what happens when a woman has to do more than just think like a man? Sometimes, unc’, we also have to act like a man. By that I mean sometimes our menfolk ain’t handling their business the way they should, and the ladies are left with no alternative but to slip our freshly pedicured toes into some scuffed up Timberlands (or wing-tipped shoes for my white collar brothas) to handle business.

We prefer our man to take the car to the auto mechanic. We rather our man sit in the barbershop with the boys while they get their hair cut. We appreciate an old-fashioned fella who remembers to pull out his wallet to pay for the meals (even if it’s from a joint account). And, yes! We expect a man to open – and hold open – a building door, garage door, trap door, any door for us to pass through.

As my girl Jill Scott cooed “even though I can do all these things…(by my damn self) …we need you.”

But, if our man asks us to cut the grass, take out the trash, or jumps behind us if a brawl breaks out, we might want to leave our lady-like mannerisms behind and man up.


Daddy’s girl








I wish my father could just let go and forgive himself. I see him still trying to make up for time lost that can never be regained. If only he could see that I love him for who he is today and that I forgive him for the mistakes he made years ago. I’m way past crying over bumps and bruises never kissed or special days that he missed. I love him for the father he is today. No matter what story the past holds, I love my father and will always be my daddy’s girl.


What if…?

Someone once asked me, if given a choice, would I turn back the clock to erase portions of my past?

 Sure, I wish I would have been a little wiser about whom I called friend, and maybe I spent too many seconds, minutes, hours in relationships that would clearly lead to a dead end. But, every joy I’ve experienced, every pain suffered, every accomplishment achieved, and every hurt caused has made me who I am today. If I were to tinker with time to right one wrong or to delay one day, who’s to say that I would be where I am today?

 Sitting here wondering…