For most of my life, I have had the hardest time growing my hair out. I would try protective hairstyles (e.g., braids, weaves, etc.), but [maybe] weeks after I removed the style and paid for my hair to get some TLC (i.e., deep conditioned, trimmed), it would either stop growing or start breaking. My stylist (at the time) would wonder with me as to what the issue could be. We both resolved that that's just how my hair was. But, not so...
5.31.2011
Hair-ducation: a Recent Science?
Not really, and the holistic education of hair is still evolving beyond the basics. Let me first recognize the knowledge of our professional cosmetologists - they bring a much needed degree of attention to our hair. However, when it comes to knowing and being educated about one's own hair, there's a significant gap.
For example...
I was recently on the phone with a friend and we began discussing hair. She started telling me that her hair was 4c and she was looking for 3c (clearly, I've been under some rock)...
For example...
I was recently on the phone with a friend and we began discussing hair. She started telling me that her hair was 4c and she was looking for 3c (clearly, I've been under some rock)...
5.30.2011
It's All About Gratitude!
To all of the high school classmates and neighborhood friends who trusted me to master the art of weaving, braiding and natural hair care, using them as my personal guinea pigs; I say thank you.
And to all of my friends, associates, and innocent stranger-made-friends who would listen to my (solicited and unsolicited) critiques and reviews on what would work best for the event and with one's personal style - I owe you all many thanks!
In the winter of 2003 - during a graduate school winter break, I would make another investment in myself by becoming a makeup artistry student. Everyday I had class, I would leave and beg my friends and family to let me "do their face," snap a photo and keep it in my portfolio.
To all of my professional services mentors and friends who pushed me to push myself...there really are no words...I'll just say THANK YOU!
I never thought the love and support shown over the years would still be what keeps me going, but it does. Just when I consider transitioning on to something "new," I get a phone call, email, or text asking if my calendar is open for another event...what can I say other than: thank you!
Each and every one of you is so brave (not only to trust me, but to trust in what I researched, tested, and learned); to trust in making mistakes, falling and getting back up to try it again - but better the next time. These are merely words. I wish I could open my heart, pour my tears and leave them on this screen to truly express what I'm feeling. YOU ARE THE BEST - and you know who you are!!
We've done it! Many of you have encouraged me to get a Web-presence...As some of you know, I've been hesitant because I wanted to get everything just right. Well, now realizing that perfection can't be obtained on the first attempt, I'm starting with this blog. Who knows? It may be all I need! No matter where the skills, talents, and drive take me, I will ALWAYS be grateful to God for you and for what you have poured into my life's experience and what you have allowed me to pour into yours. I love you, and there's really not much you can do about it!
And to all of my friends, associates, and innocent stranger-made-friends who would listen to my (solicited and unsolicited) critiques and reviews on what would work best for the event and with one's personal style - I owe you all many thanks!
In the winter of 2003 - during a graduate school winter break, I would make another investment in myself by becoming a makeup artistry student. Everyday I had class, I would leave and beg my friends and family to let me "do their face," snap a photo and keep it in my portfolio.
To all of my professional services mentors and friends who pushed me to push myself...there really are no words...I'll just say THANK YOU!
I never thought the love and support shown over the years would still be what keeps me going, but it does. Just when I consider transitioning on to something "new," I get a phone call, email, or text asking if my calendar is open for another event...what can I say other than: thank you!
Each and every one of you is so brave (not only to trust me, but to trust in what I researched, tested, and learned); to trust in making mistakes, falling and getting back up to try it again - but better the next time. These are merely words. I wish I could open my heart, pour my tears and leave them on this screen to truly express what I'm feeling. YOU ARE THE BEST - and you know who you are!!
We've done it! Many of you have encouraged me to get a Web-presence...As some of you know, I've been hesitant because I wanted to get everything just right. Well, now realizing that perfection can't be obtained on the first attempt, I'm starting with this blog. Who knows? It may be all I need! No matter where the skills, talents, and drive take me, I will ALWAYS be grateful to God for you and for what you have poured into my life's experience and what you have allowed me to pour into yours. I love you, and there's really not much you can do about it!
5.09.2011
If I Give You Six Inches, Will You Take My Yard?
Last month, members of my [townhome] community's Home Owners' Association (HOA) received a letter informing us that our monthly HOA dues would no longer cover landscaping services to the front of our homes. According to the letter, each owner would now be responsible for maintaining the 3 square feet [or so] of front yard grass, as well as his/her approximately 12 square feet of back yard space (which each owner was already responsible for). Keep in mind, the HOA fees were not being reduced. So, to follow in compliance with what had been agreed to (unbeknownst to me), I set out to get rid of the grass in my front yard altogether. My mission: keep maintenance to an absolute minimum. I went to the local hardware store to purchase weed/grass killer, mulch, edging and other garden tools. Boy, was I being a responsible homeowner, or what? I thought.
I had no idea yard work could be such a great workout (I was exhausted)! My next door neighbor arrived home just as I was hammering the edging around the perimeter of my estimated 3 square foot plot. I can usually get at least a hello out of him, but he had guests; so I figured it may not have been the best time for me to bother him with a "Hey, how's it going?!" He, and his comrades went in continuing their 'car-ride' conversations, while I continued and completed the first half of my project, spraying the weed/grass killer, laying the landscaping fabric, inserting the edging and applying two bags of mulch. My plan was to finish the other half the following weekend.
Throughout the week, I looked at my little piece of yard proudly, thinking: "Maybe it was a good idea for each owner to be responsible for the front yards." Other neighbors began to address the new mandate in his/her own creative way. The diversity was nice. Towards the end of the week, however, I noticed that my two shrubs were beginning to wither and die. I thought I avoided that area when spraying the weed/grass killer. Who knew it would also kill my shrubs?! They should add 'shrub' to the label (weed/grass/shrub/and all living things with roots in the ground killer).
I digress.
Now, I would add 'uproot and replant shrubs' to my yard work assignment for the following weekend. I went back to the hardware store to purchase shrubs, soil, annual florals, mulch and additional metal stakes, as the edging wasn't hammered into the ground deep enough. I mistakenly left some of the purchased items in the cart (along with my umbrella) at the store, having to return the next morning to recover them...ugh. Side note: it really bothers me when retail staff give you that 'side-eye' look of suspicion. "C'mon lady, would I really want to steal a $2.00 rubber mallet and a $3.00 4-pack of metal stakes? Give me a break!" I even surrendered the original receipt!
But anyway...
I got back home just in time to begin the second half of my yard work assignment. I began watering the area to soften the soil. Just as I was preparing to uproot the shrubs, my neighbor appears. He and I say our hellos. I was beginning to grab my shovel, when he said, "Just to let you know, you went over the line about six inches. You killed the grass on my piece of property, and I just got it to start growing."
Wow...
I walked over to the 'line' to get a better idea of what he was referring to. "Oh, this piece right here? I'm sorry. Let me pull this edging up." I relented, pulling the metal stakes and edging out of the ground, moving the mulch and landscaping fabric over, I asked him, "Does this look about right?" He responded that it did. I bit my tongue and thought, "This guy's whining over six inches of grass? Okay..."
I acknowledge that I was a little annoyed at his petty request. I suppose most understand that six inches does indeed make a difference. But for Pete's sake, this is a segment of grass that I'd be willing to take care of! I thought, "Well, it is his property. I shouldn't be turned off by his pettiness." But I was. The frustration gave me the added energy I needed to re-pound the edging back into my inexact 3 square foot plot (minus 6 inches). Since I had soil, I laid more down to his new identified area and inserted the metal stakes to secure the edging. While I was doing this, he and his guest left for a walk and he was able to get another glance at what I was doing. I asked, "Is it OK that I laid some soil down on your six inches?" He replied that it was fine and added "I'll just have to lay some grass seed down." However, I insisted that I clean up my mess. So, I let him know, "Oh no - totally my mistake. I'll reseed for ya..." After digging a small area and planting my annual flowers, I got back in my car to get some grass seed. I returned home, deepened the edging, up rooted and replanted my shrubs, and applied more mulch.
I thought I did a pretty good job and began to put the finishing touches on my project. Meanwhile, the two walkers returned. "Now would be a good time for him to give his approval/rejection of where his 'property line' was" I thought. But since he waited a week, who knows? He re-exited his garage, now walking his dog. I wondered: "Why didn't he say something when I began this project last week?! He saw me sweating and struggling with this shovel! This guy has no clue of the cost and energy that went into this 3 & 2.5 x 3 foot area. All I know is, he better maintain this six inches!" I loosened the soil to the six inch property line and sprinkled the grass seed, as promised. I then watered the whole ballpark 3 square foot area thinking, "We should swap. I SO wish he could take care of my little area - I'll take care of his -- six inches."
HOA Conspiracy? I don't know. Is this new association rule an attempt for the HOA to increase Homeowner participation in those inconveniently scheduled meetings? I better be careful. If this guy's going to point these types of issues out, who knows what's next. One thing's for sure, folks are talking to each other more than ever...
I had no idea yard work could be such a great workout (I was exhausted)! My next door neighbor arrived home just as I was hammering the edging around the perimeter of my estimated 3 square foot plot. I can usually get at least a hello out of him, but he had guests; so I figured it may not have been the best time for me to bother him with a "Hey, how's it going?!" He, and his comrades went in continuing their 'car-ride' conversations, while I continued and completed the first half of my project, spraying the weed/grass killer, laying the landscaping fabric, inserting the edging and applying two bags of mulch. My plan was to finish the other half the following weekend.
Throughout the week, I looked at my little piece of yard proudly, thinking: "Maybe it was a good idea for each owner to be responsible for the front yards." Other neighbors began to address the new mandate in his/her own creative way. The diversity was nice. Towards the end of the week, however, I noticed that my two shrubs were beginning to wither and die. I thought I avoided that area when spraying the weed/grass killer. Who knew it would also kill my shrubs?! They should add 'shrub' to the label (weed/grass/shrub/and all living things with roots in the ground killer).
I digress.
Now, I would add 'uproot and replant shrubs' to my yard work assignment for the following weekend. I went back to the hardware store to purchase shrubs, soil, annual florals, mulch and additional metal stakes, as the edging wasn't hammered into the ground deep enough. I mistakenly left some of the purchased items in the cart (along with my umbrella) at the store, having to return the next morning to recover them...ugh. Side note: it really bothers me when retail staff give you that 'side-eye' look of suspicion. "C'mon lady, would I really want to steal a $2.00 rubber mallet and a $3.00 4-pack of metal stakes? Give me a break!" I even surrendered the original receipt!
But anyway...
I got back home just in time to begin the second half of my yard work assignment. I began watering the area to soften the soil. Just as I was preparing to uproot the shrubs, my neighbor appears. He and I say our hellos. I was beginning to grab my shovel, when he said, "Just to let you know, you went over the line about six inches. You killed the grass on my piece of property, and I just got it to start growing."
Wow...
I walked over to the 'line' to get a better idea of what he was referring to. "Oh, this piece right here? I'm sorry. Let me pull this edging up." I relented, pulling the metal stakes and edging out of the ground, moving the mulch and landscaping fabric over, I asked him, "Does this look about right?" He responded that it did. I bit my tongue and thought, "This guy's whining over six inches of grass? Okay..."
I acknowledge that I was a little annoyed at his petty request. I suppose most understand that six inches does indeed make a difference. But for Pete's sake, this is a segment of grass that I'd be willing to take care of! I thought, "Well, it is his property. I shouldn't be turned off by his pettiness." But I was. The frustration gave me the added energy I needed to re-pound the edging back into my inexact 3 square foot plot (minus 6 inches). Since I had soil, I laid more down to his new identified area and inserted the metal stakes to secure the edging. While I was doing this, he and his guest left for a walk and he was able to get another glance at what I was doing. I asked, "Is it OK that I laid some soil down on your six inches?" He replied that it was fine and added "I'll just have to lay some grass seed down." However, I insisted that I clean up my mess. So, I let him know, "Oh no - totally my mistake. I'll reseed for ya..." After digging a small area and planting my annual flowers, I got back in my car to get some grass seed. I returned home, deepened the edging, up rooted and replanted my shrubs, and applied more mulch.
I thought I did a pretty good job and began to put the finishing touches on my project. Meanwhile, the two walkers returned. "Now would be a good time for him to give his approval/rejection of where his 'property line' was" I thought. But since he waited a week, who knows? He re-exited his garage, now walking his dog. I wondered: "Why didn't he say something when I began this project last week?! He saw me sweating and struggling with this shovel! This guy has no clue of the cost and energy that went into this 3 & 2.5 x 3 foot area. All I know is, he better maintain this six inches!" I loosened the soil to the six inch property line and sprinkled the grass seed, as promised. I then watered the whole ballpark 3 square foot area thinking, "We should swap. I SO wish he could take care of my little area - I'll take care of his -- six inches."
HOA Conspiracy? I don't know. Is this new association rule an attempt for the HOA to increase Homeowner participation in those inconveniently scheduled meetings? I better be careful. If this guy's going to point these types of issues out, who knows what's next. One thing's for sure, folks are talking to each other more than ever...
5.06.2011
Everyday Isn't Mother's Day?
...well there certainly is more than one Mother's Day during the year in my world. And I don’t mind that - not one bit! My mother and I have grown closer through the years. I suppose she's had fun observing where I was in life's development cycle (terrible twos, puberty, rebellious teens, etc.) from her perspective, anyway. Looking back, I notice that she would pay little to no attention to the foolish actions of my youth, but would somehow still manage to creatively enforce her rule for repeat offenses, and mastered making milestone achievement celebrations brief yet significant. I have grown to value these tactics as an adult navigating through life.
In my late teens and early twenties, I really thought I was so mature, "wise beyond my years." At least that's what people used to tell me. I think. Little did I know that - even though I (relatively) had encountered my share of challenges - I still had so much more to experience. I looked back at every new instance thankful that I had my mother; if not with me physically, then it was consciously as a voice of reason, or a reminder of severe consequences for irresponsible behavior. In actuality, she is still with me in the same ways.
May 13, 1990 - Mother's DayYou were newly separated after nearly 20 years of marriage and I was newly separated from the only life I knew and (for the most-part) cherished. I guess we were both sad for our losses and new realities, but we were taking our sadness in stride. The steady rain that fell that day was symbolic – a milieu for our melancholy existence that day, and in so many other ways. We got dressed and ready to take a 45 minute drive to a neighboring county for a visit with your mother ('Grandma' to me) - who was back in the state, living with your sister and her family. We talked about what I was experiencing in school (being teased and picked on by the same group of girls). You empathized and would strategize with me techniques to apply throughout the day of my "elementary school daze" [I had trouble coping with the changes and would daydream relentlessly-according to my teachers]. All of a sudden, I heard you scream. My search to discover what troubled you in such a way, was interrupted by a truck coming towards-and then colliding with our car. The impact of the collision tossed our bodies in the car. It was a total loss.
Well, not totally...
The paramedics shouted through the shattered glass, "Ma'am, DON'T move!" Using the Jaws of Life, they would feverishly work to pry the driver's side door open in efforts to get to you. I still vividly remember you being asked, "Ma'am can you hear me?!" My scared ten-year-old self watched, weeping, hoping that you would respond to them. Eventually, you did respond; but not to them, to God. I listened in wonder, hearing you declare how good God was for sparing you. I was now scared and confused. Apparently, the paramedics also mistook your seemingly inappropriate praise and worship. They repeatedly insisted to one another, "She’s in shock!" When you finally responded to them, you were able to describe the level of pain and where it was on your body. I remember there being a nice couple that approached the passenger's side of the car. They asked if I was O.K. and if I was able to get out of the car. I don't remember talking, just opening the door to seek refuge in the arms of some maternal being. Though I didn't know her, she cradled me in the most familiar way. I watched as your injured body was laid on a stretcher and hoisted into the ambulance. I watched the man driving the truck that hit us, climb out and walk with the police on scene. I pointed him out hollering, "He did this! There he is!" Only to be hushed by the police and walked to the ambulance -- being comforted by the woman and her male companion. I needed to be with you.
There was chaos.
Though the hospital was not nearby, it seemed the ambulance got there in just moments. I was carried out of the ambulance by one of the medics -- holding the Teddy Bear he gave me. I sat in the hospital waiting room and was later joined by our former neighbors and family friends. Between sobs, I recounted all that I could recall to them, trying to describe every detail. They gave me a quarter for the payphone to call your sister ('Aunty' to me)...
You returned home bandaged, bruised, and would later undergo major surgery on your knee, shoulder and face. And we (your son/my brother and I) nursed you toward recovery. We both assumed our roles in coming to your aid the only way we knew and were advised. He would manage things around our new down-sized residence, and I would help bathe and clothe you. We didn't have to feed you, because your jaws were wired shut. You were able to consume fluids, however. So you drank to your heart’s content -- avoiding alcoholic beverages. You grew tired of liquids just in time for the wires to be removed. And as God would have it, your recovery was successful.
We made it, Mommy!
In the years to come, we would continue to make it. As life would toss chaotic circumstances at us, I would watch you enter the Throne Room, offering your personal praise and worship in sacrifice - and we would make it. It was a GRAND lesson. Perhaps the best lesson (of many) you could have ever taught me: to do my best in engaging in praise and worship when all seems well, so that I know to continue when life becomes chaotic. I have personally lived to see this method tested and proved time and time again!
GRANDMothers
My Vow
In my late teens and early twenties, I really thought I was so mature, "wise beyond my years." At least that's what people used to tell me. I think. Little did I know that - even though I (relatively) had encountered my share of challenges - I still had so much more to experience. I looked back at every new instance thankful that I had my mother; if not with me physically, then it was consciously as a voice of reason, or a reminder of severe consequences for irresponsible behavior. In actuality, she is still with me in the same ways.
May 13, 1990 - Mother's DayYou were newly separated after nearly 20 years of marriage and I was newly separated from the only life I knew and (for the most-part) cherished. I guess we were both sad for our losses and new realities, but we were taking our sadness in stride. The steady rain that fell that day was symbolic – a milieu for our melancholy existence that day, and in so many other ways. We got dressed and ready to take a 45 minute drive to a neighboring county for a visit with your mother ('Grandma' to me) - who was back in the state, living with your sister and her family. We talked about what I was experiencing in school (being teased and picked on by the same group of girls). You empathized and would strategize with me techniques to apply throughout the day of my "elementary school daze" [I had trouble coping with the changes and would daydream relentlessly-according to my teachers]. All of a sudden, I heard you scream. My search to discover what troubled you in such a way, was interrupted by a truck coming towards-and then colliding with our car. The impact of the collision tossed our bodies in the car. It was a total loss.
Well, not totally...
The paramedics shouted through the shattered glass, "Ma'am, DON'T move!" Using the Jaws of Life, they would feverishly work to pry the driver's side door open in efforts to get to you. I still vividly remember you being asked, "Ma'am can you hear me?!" My scared ten-year-old self watched, weeping, hoping that you would respond to them. Eventually, you did respond; but not to them, to God. I listened in wonder, hearing you declare how good God was for sparing you. I was now scared and confused. Apparently, the paramedics also mistook your seemingly inappropriate praise and worship. They repeatedly insisted to one another, "She’s in shock!" When you finally responded to them, you were able to describe the level of pain and where it was on your body. I remember there being a nice couple that approached the passenger's side of the car. They asked if I was O.K. and if I was able to get out of the car. I don't remember talking, just opening the door to seek refuge in the arms of some maternal being. Though I didn't know her, she cradled me in the most familiar way. I watched as your injured body was laid on a stretcher and hoisted into the ambulance. I watched the man driving the truck that hit us, climb out and walk with the police on scene. I pointed him out hollering, "He did this! There he is!" Only to be hushed by the police and walked to the ambulance -- being comforted by the woman and her male companion. I needed to be with you.
There was chaos.
Though the hospital was not nearby, it seemed the ambulance got there in just moments. I was carried out of the ambulance by one of the medics -- holding the Teddy Bear he gave me. I sat in the hospital waiting room and was later joined by our former neighbors and family friends. Between sobs, I recounted all that I could recall to them, trying to describe every detail. They gave me a quarter for the payphone to call your sister ('Aunty' to me)...
You returned home bandaged, bruised, and would later undergo major surgery on your knee, shoulder and face. And we (your son/my brother and I) nursed you toward recovery. We both assumed our roles in coming to your aid the only way we knew and were advised. He would manage things around our new down-sized residence, and I would help bathe and clothe you. We didn't have to feed you, because your jaws were wired shut. You were able to consume fluids, however. So you drank to your heart’s content -- avoiding alcoholic beverages. You grew tired of liquids just in time for the wires to be removed. And as God would have it, your recovery was successful.
We made it, Mommy!
In the years to come, we would continue to make it. As life would toss chaotic circumstances at us, I would watch you enter the Throne Room, offering your personal praise and worship in sacrifice - and we would make it. It was a GRAND lesson. Perhaps the best lesson (of many) you could have ever taught me: to do my best in engaging in praise and worship when all seems well, so that I know to continue when life becomes chaotic. I have personally lived to see this method tested and proved time and time again!
GRANDMothers
My Vow
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