I almost peed my pants on the way to work this morning. No, I didn’t drink an extra large mocha latte before I left home. Rather on the corner of 12th and Hennepin, I looked up from the book I was reading and found myself staring into the dreamiest pair of eyes of the most handsome man that God ever drew breath into. My stomach dropped because all I saw was Lionel larger than life on the bus shelter and the dates January 23rd and 24th! “HE’S COMING. HE’S COMING”. On the outside the only clue to my jubilation was probably the slight raising of my eyebrow, but in the inside I was jumping up and down and screaming at the top of my lungs! It wasn’t until closer inspection that I realized that it was just that an advertisement for a television show. (BUBBLE BURST)

Lionel is being honored at the UNCF Evening of the Stars! WAAAAAAAA! No Lionel concert for me, but at least I get to enjoy a night of Lionel!!!!!!

It’s about time my honey got his props!

Check out this pic from the evening....AWWW!

Nice - One Big Happy Family (All that's missing is Nicole!_

(Diane (LR's ex and mother of his 2 youngest), Lionel, his youngest, Brenda (LR's first wife), his son and I think that's his sister on the end)

Memories...

Last night while I was struggling to get 4 grocery bags from the car to my front door, I remembered that there was a shopping cart in by the elevator foyer. So with my fingers being pinched by plastic handles I crabbed walked to the elevator and threw the bags into the cart. It was as I was pushing the cart into the elevator that I was transferred back in time. Back to 1979...

My mom with her short natural and denim cut offs has sent me down the street to get an onion and some milk for dinner. If I went out the back door, straight down the alley and crossed the street on the corner of 39th and Nicollet there was a Red Owl Grocery Store. Red Owl was our neighborhood grocery store. This was before Cub Foods and Rainbow. Being a child and not responsible for grocery shopping, I'm not sure if there were other grocery stores. All I know is that when I thought of a grocery store I thought of Red Owl. If we weren't running the 1/2 block to Tom Thumb for Now 'N Laters or Boston Baked Beans candy we were being sent to Red Owl for whatever grocery item my mom or dad needed "right now". So, down the street we went, most of the time together or with our other "sister" Lisah.

Red Owl was much smaller than the grocery supercenters we have today, but it had everything we needed. Mom or daddy could send us right down the street for apple juice (remember the big glass jug), ground beef, bread, sugar, cereal, milk or dish soap and we would find it in one of the aisles. While most of our visits were on foot, for those that had a few bags and drove to the store there was a long, metal conveyor that snaked out of the side of the building, around the front and delivered your groceries right to your car. And you didn’t worry about the best way to pack the eggs and canned corn together because there was a young boy that bagged all your groceries.

The best part of the trip was that with every purchase you received dividend stickers. The more you bought the more stickers you received. We would then take those stickers, lick them and stick them in the booklets the store provided. It’s funny because while I remember the dividend stickers, I don’t remember what you received when you completed a booklet!

DING! The elevator doors opened and suddenly I was no longer walking back up the alley headed home with the onion, milk and a couple dividend stickers for the booklet we kept tacked to the corkboard in the kitchen. I was transported back to 2010 and needed to get the groceries in the house before my meat started to thaw.

After an almost 6 month hiatus I have finally found the energy - is that it? - to log in and share some of my thoughts...as if you were all waiting with bated breath...
(By the way do you remember this show? "Baby I'm Back" with Lamont from Sanford and Son and Kim Fields!)

No Words!!!

Really?? Why was I trying to enjoy an episode of Boondocks and laughing my arse off, when they gonna show this mess! Just wrong!

Toe Troubles and Insults!!

On the Wednesday before Christmas, I dropped "the boy" off at the airport and then headed to MOA for some last minute shopping. As I was walking around the mall I noticed that my left, big toe started to smart. I had an idea why. A couple weeks prior I was a bit over zealous with the clippers while giving myself a manicure. I may have cut away more skin and flesh than nail. It bled a little, I cleaned it out with alcohol and thought nothing more of it. That is until it started to hurt. It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that I took off my sock and looked at my toe.

This is what I found...

It was just a little swollen to the right of the nail and just a tad bit red. (And yeah, I realize that my toe looks a bit like a thumb...hahaha...keep the jokes to your self...I have BEAUTIFUL feet)

After consulting with Dr. Locklear ("Girl you better go to the doctor and get that looked at. For someone so vain about their feet you're gonna mess around and not a have toe this summer. That will not be cute in sandals."), I decided that I would ignore her warning and self medicate. Thanks to the "all knowledge providing about every subject matter ever" internet, I learned that after a good soaking in salt water, my big toe would be as good as new. So that evening I submerged the toe in a salty water for a good 15 minutes. Then to make it work even better I poured a tablespoon of salt directly on my toe and wrapped it in the wet paper towel. The brining solution placed directly on the source of my pain had to be even better, than just soaking it, right? Finally it was off to bed, not with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, but rather visions healthy toes!

Well, just imagine my surprise when I work "with a start" because the pain from my toe almost stopped my heart. The next morning brought no relief and the pain seemed to be worse. Still ignoring Heather Locklear's warnings I walked around sockless and kept a steady dose of ibuprofen on hand. Sure, I could barely stand on it and by Friday it was a bit more swollen and a little bit more red (okay alot more swollen and a lot more red), but it would be okay after another brine soaking. Right? With thoughts of an empty space where my big toe should be, I was finally forced to throw in the towel and call the doctor. I think it was the third time stubbing it that sent me over the edge. The pain was now so immense that I could barely walk. So off to Urgent Care I limped. Besides I didn't think that they had come up with prosthetic toes yet...

My office visit was fairly uneventful. The physician's assistant couldn't touch my toe because of the swelling and pain so she prescribed anti-biotics and ibuprofen and sent me on my way. It was as I was limping out into the waiting area that it struck me that I had just been insulted not once but 3 times. WTH!

My conversation with the physicians assistant went something like this...

I knew right away when the young woman entered that she was African. That was not an issue for me but is relevant to the story...read on...

PA "How do you pronounce your name?"

ME "It's Jacquette, but I go by Jacke"

PA "Oh you guys and your names. You all come up with the most different names. LaTeshia, Shaneka." Chuckle. Chuckle.

Huh, wait a minute. Is she talking about my name? Lady, my name is French and not the least bit ghetto. (http://www.behindthename.com/name/jacquette) But I let it slide.

Next we actually discussed my reason for being there, my toe and she actually paid me a compliment.

PA "You don't look 38 at all. You know what they say about black people. We age very well."

ME "Thanks."

PA "So do you have kids."

ME "Yes, a son."

PA "Nice. How old is he?"

ME "He just turned eighteen."

With that, her nose shot up in the air and while typing her consultation notes on the computer, she says, "Oh you guys start having babies so early here. I'm 35 and I just got married. I am 9 weeks pregnant with my first."

Hold up! I know this heifer did not diss me again in less then 5 minutes. And is she seriously calling me some promiscuous HO? By now I am giving her the serious side eye and preparing to limp my ass right on outta there, but not before she can get in one last dig.

As I bent over to put on my sock,

"Is that a sew-in?"

I turned my head just enough to really give her a "lady you have gone too far look" and said "What?"

PA "Is that a sew in. Your hair."

Let's recap...This lady has called my name ghetto, called me a HO and now she was trying to say that my hair looked like a wig. I did not need all this aggravation.

ME "NO. This is all my hair!" (insert much attitude, neck and eye rolling).

UGH! Some people!