THE ART OF WAR

My husband’s goddaughter spent the weekend with us. We ordered pizza, ate lots and lots of candy, watched Akeelah and the Bee on Friday and a comedy on Saturday and stayed up until sleep took us down.

When I was a kid I loved spending weekends with my older cousin. She moved in with us for college and she’d take us on her dates, to picnics, volunteer activities and all sorts of ‘grownup’ stuff. When she got married I’d pack my weekend bag and call to tell her I’d be over. I’m happy to now have a kid in my life and hopefully I can be the same type of adult to her as my cousin has been to me.

On Sunday after church we dropped the goddaughter off and headed to Pinks. We would have taken her with us, but that would have required too much backtracking. After our patio lunch at Pink’s, I was ready for a nap.

On our way home, I asked hubster if we could go into the gated community near our neighborhood. Hubster reminded me that the gates might prevent us. I asked if we could at least try, he said we could. As we’re driving by we notice an ‘open house’ sign outside the gates.

Yipppee, the gates have opened for us. For the curious we were not looking to buy, we were looking to look. I like looking at houses I can’t afford yet. It inspires me to afford them. Husband didn’t want to go in the house but I remind him that this is a rare opportunity to be nosey and see what a house in that community looks like. These aren’t track homes, they were designed by architects so each is unique, but the lots and home sizes are all pretty uniform.

The community has mature trees surrounding it, so as much as I have peeked, I’ve never been able to glimpse what the houses looked like.

We park and enter.

The house was a bit intimidating. There was so much too it. I mean who could live in such a humongous house?

The house was also in pretty bad shape, it made us think of the “Money Pit.” The owners did nothing to make it show better. The pink carpets were stained, the green paint on the walls dirty and old. It had a servants quarter wing at the rear of the house. It had a staircase in the kitchen that seemed ready to collapse.

The owners weren’t broke nor highly leveraged. The house was owned by a country. They must have lacked a desire to maintain the place and are not in a hurry to sell.

Husband and I walked up the set of stairs located in the kitchen. The house had at least 3 sets of stairs indoors and outside. There were a few doors and paths I refused to venture into because I was fearful of where we’d end up. The place would be great for a scary movie, it was large with many twists, turns and connecting halls.

We entered an upstairs bedroom that overlooked the pool, I looked out the window and told husband excitedly, “there’s a black woman!” He glanced out the window. “Is that Ang.ela Bas.sett?” I asked. I was half way serious, eventhough it didn’t look like the movie star. Hubster chuckles and looks out the window again. Perhaps feeling eyes on her the woman looks up an into the window and . . . gasp, it is Ang.ela Bas.sett.

Husband tells me I have a good eye and I’m wishing I had my camera phone. She was wearing eye glasses and had on her long hair. She had on a long sleeve shirt and a straight skirt that went a little past her knees. She wasn’t skinny like I expected, and she didn’t seem super muscular. She was normal.

Husband and I finished walking through the house and head down the main stairs. We turn back to look at the rooms we missed and come across the elevator. Hubster wants to take it. The elevator is one of those contraptions that moves between the floors. ( not the kind that glides along the wall or on a staircase, like many in home elevators) It has a wrought irongate. My fear was that our combined weight might make it fall. This is the Money Pit house.

We check and the capacity is 450lbs, we’re under that. We step in, I ask hubby if he has his cell so we can call for help it if gets stuck and he confirms that he does. He shuts the gate, hits the button, I lay my head on his chest and squeeze my arms around his upper torso.

The elevator takes a pretty rough start.

I relax. If I’m going die, I will at least be in his arms. (I know I’m dramatic and scary) We touch the bottom, my eyes are still closed and my face is still in husband’s chest. I hear a squeal.

“Cour.tney, Cour.tney, this house has an elevator!! Someone is in it. OUUHUUHOHOU, ya’ll are crazy, that thing could have crashed. You don’t know anything about that elevator.”

“We saw someone take it first.” I said to Ms. Bass.ett, thinking to myself, Cour.tney Va.nce is here too. Cour.tney rounds the corner and we all chat briefly.

I’m waving and cheesing and pulling husbands arm and hubster say’s, “I hate to be fan like, but we are, we’re fans.” So we all shake hands and then Mr. Vance and hubster are chatting and Vance tells us to tie the house up.

The asking on this house is far over 3 million. Hubster tells him that we live around the corner and passed by and saw the open house sign, we aren’t buying. After hearing we’re married Mr. Van.ce tells us we’re beautiful. Hubster tells him to buy it and he tells us that they live across the street. He tells us which house is they live in.

What I learned- There are famous millionaire couples that spend their Sundays just like us.

That house was far too big for us, but it was designed well. I think we could be okay living in a mansion in L.A. I’d have to put bells on our kids so we wouldn’t lose them. We didn’t like that house but we liked the area and have added it to the list of places we will consider living (when we hit 7 figures). I’d need a couple dogs if I lived in something that large and I would certainly need a fulltime housekeeper. How could I clean that much house?

Mansion Note: The house we looked at had over 8000 sq ft of living space. That # does not include the servant’s quarters, kitchen, and back part of house. It was not a Mcmansion.

Last night I realized our life is quite similiar to a television show. And just like a t.v. series the crew stays together.

We moved to the Westside, more than 20 miles away from our former home in the eastside. That isn’t far but it was far enough that folks wouldn’t just drop by, they would call first.

One of hubsters best friends since childhood lives over in Ladera, and is close enough for spur of the moment video games and golf. I was pleased with that.

Soon after we moved, my husbands childhood friend -the one that owns the clothing store- opened another store near our new neighborhood. This store is a “partnership” with two of husbands other childhood friends. So what does that mean for us? Husbands crew is now in door knock distance.

Last night one of the guys invited us to a spoken word spot next door to their store. We went and had a lot of fun. The spot was a clothing store and the owners host an art haven (fashion show, spoken word, singing, art showing, improv, share your thoughts) event once a month. It felt so Love Jones.

I’m glad we went.

We drove to the Bay this weekend and took the Poetic Justice route, that would be the 101 pacific coast highway. It was a beautiful drive. I love Monterey and the Salinas Valley but I think I was napping when we hit that stretch of the coast.

THE START

On Friday I arrived at hubsters job, and walked into his office happy and excited beacause I was a little early. I tend to run late, it was a gorgeous day and conducive to a happy mood. The traffic on the 405 was a mess but I was able to take the side road and I arrived in quick time.

IN SYNC

We usually take the 5 when driving between L.A. an Oakland, because its a shorter drive. When I got into hubsters office I asked if we could take the 101- since it was such a pretty day. Turns out hubby had been thinking that we should take the same highway because it was a nice day. It feels great to be in sync.

THE DRIVE

The 101 is a gorgeous drive. Much of it is along the ocean and moutains and there are lots of cute houses, quaint towns and antique shops. We passed multiple state beaches, including Pismo Beach, the city of Santa Barbara, wineries and horse and cattle ranches overlooking the ocean and beaches.

The air felt so clear and so clean.

FUTURE 101 Plans

As we drove my husband had me take a few location notes. We are planning a couples weekend. Yippee. We’re going to hook up with a 1 or 2 other couples, take a limo up the coast and spend the weekend going to different wineries and retire to a hotel, hopefully one overlooking a beach. The limo will allow us to go from winery to winery without the need for a DD.

I plan to spend an afternoon at a coastal location, perhaps browse an antique shop, lunch at a beachside cafe, maybe a spa service and shopping. Hopefully I’ll find someone (female) to join me.

I love the Coast.

WORK

I’m back to work pretty much full time. I was trying to ease my way back into work mode but that plan didn’t happen. As long as I remain organized, I won’t get overwhelmed.

DINNER

I planned to make oxtails tonight but I was in bed when that thought crossed my mind. I would have needed ot take the meat out the freezer on Monday so I cuold season them last night and put them on today. So that will hopefully be Thursday’s meal.

PORK.

I think I’m done with pork. It’s my husbands fault for telling me about worms as I’m in the middle of my pork chop. I looked at the white meat and suddenly all I could see was white worms moving about. As I sat there with a tummy ache, near tears, he asked if I was going to finish it and then he ate my porkchop.

This body is going to bear children one day. I don’t want my babies to have to live amongst worms. EWWWWEEEEEEE.

But I adore ham and bacon and sausage and yes my New Year Chitterlings.

NO MORE PORK- EV-VER!!

Each time I look at the cute floor mat, designed with a purse and evening gowns, in our closet I think how wonderful it is to be a lady.

I’m here now looking at my pink mini notebook. The book has a drawing of a pink dress and green belt. Next to that is my note pad which is a green summer dress with pink flowes. On the refigerator lives a pink note pad, with a ribbon and a pink & green hat on the bottom. I can appreciate the cuteness of pink. I can be pleased when I’m done cleaning and the bathroon smells of orange pine-sol and sparkles.

I can take time putting heat rollers in my hair and watching the spectacular fall of the curls. I can put on dangerously high heels, my Audrey Hepburn shades, grab an oversized handbag and go daintily about my day.

A pretty dress with a cheerful skirt can bring a smile to my face. The pink roses hubster brings me can brighten my day. I can hold hands and link arms with my man, my mother, my sister, my cousins and even my girlfriends and no one will frown.

I can throw myself in my sweetums arms and not fret he might fall or stumble, I can wriggle even deeper into the cuddle and fall asleep in his embrace (although if my head scarf falls off, its goodbye to straight hair cuz I hate to interrupt my sleep to put it back on). I don’t have to touch icky door handles or open the car door.

I can talk on the phone forever and ever about nothing. I can walk through the airport with my lime green knit shirt, lime green duffle, lime green purse and be fab.

I did decorate our main bathroom in blue in honor of my honey but the office bathroom is pink and green.

Everytime I spend a weekend with the girls I’m amazed by the amount of beauty and pamper products, and clothes and shoes that appear. When 3 of my sorors came to Long Beach for our regional conference the room and bathroom had enough lotions, creams, potions, irons, and shoes for 20 people. I went to their room to get dressed for the gala and spent the night there, I brought nothing and I needed nada.

Going to my sisters house, to dinner or riding together to our chapter meetings is automatic fun. I still like to look through her closets and admire her home. I guess once a little sister, always a liitle sister, but sisters add to the joy of being a lady.

It is the bestest thing to be a lady!! When you add the joy of girlfriends, sisters, and beauty products, it quadruples the pleasure.

The Ant and the Contact Lens: a true story.

Brenda was almost halfway to the top of the tremendous granite
cliff. She was standing on a ledge where she was taking a breather
during this, her first rock climb. As she rested there, the safety rope
snapped against her eye and knocked out her contact lens. “Great”, she
thought.
“Here I am on a rock ledge, hundreds of feet from the bottom and
hundreds of feet to the top of this cliff, and now my sight is blurry.”

She looked and looked, hoping that somehow it had landed on the
ledge. But it just wasn’t there.

She felt the panic rising in her, so she began praying. She
prayed for calm, and she prayed that she may find her contact lens.

When she got to the top, a friend examined her eye and her
clothing for the lens, but it was not to be found. Although she was calm
now that she was at the top, she was saddened because she could not
clearly see across the range of mountains. She thought of the bible
verse “The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth.”

She thought, “Lord, You can see all these mountains. You know
every stone and leaf, and You know exactly where my contact lens is.
Please help me.”

Later, when they had hiked down the trail to the bottom of the
cliff they met another party of
climbers just starting up the face of the cliff. One of them
shouted out, “Hey, you guys! Anybody lose a contact lens?”

Well, that would be startling enough, but you know why the
climber saw it? An ant was moving slowly across a twig on the face of
the rock, carrying it!

The story doesn’t end there. Brenda’s father is a cartoonist.
When she told him the incredible story of the ant, the prayer, and the
contact lens, he drew a cartoon of an ant lugging that contact lens with
the caption, “Lord, I don’t know why You want me to carry this thing. I
can’t eat it, and it’s awfully heavy. But if this is what You want me to
do, I’ll carry it for You.”

I think it would do all of us some good to say, “God, I don’t
know why You want me to carry this load. I can see no good in it and
It’s awfully heavy. But, if You want me to carry it, I will.”

note: A few of my wedding and honeymoon pics are now to the side. I find myself smiling whenever I look them. I don’t expect others to smile but I’ll enjoy them when I visit my blog.

Hubby and I went to a wedding this past weekend. It was located in the town he used to live in. My maternal family is from that town, thanks and praises that many left. Because all did not leave I spent many HOT summers in the town.

It’s so hot there that people tend to schedule their activities for after 6 p.m. I guess the best thing is that you can swim everyday, its a 2 hour drive from Vegas, 1.5 hour from L.A. and a little over a 3 hour drive to the Bay.

Many of the people there, including my maternal family, are super country and slow. The city has a larger population than Oakland and is fast growing but it has a small town feel. That type of atmosphere is conducive to low stress, relaxation and slow moving. Being in that type of atmosphere for too long can frustrate me. People still go visiting out there, just like when my mother was a kid.

The wedding was scheduled for 5 p.m. Hubby, who hates to be late forced us to arrive on time. I told him it would start an hour late but the timeliness of others doesn’t matter to him, and we arrived a little before 5. The parking lot had about 3 cars.

One hour and 45 minutes later, in the dark and with the weather cooling, the wedding began. The bride and her escort had the nerve to do some stanky slow pace, like they were on time. I wanted to trip them both.

I was even more upset because the majority of the guests didn’t arrive until about 6:15, it was as if they had been given the true start time. The groom had told hubster that it would be 5 o’clock sharp. One of my husbands friends showed up at 7 and told my husband he should have known the wedding would not be on time.

The ceremony lasted less than 15 minutes. As we left we noticed enormous amounts of liquor. I concluded that the main purpose of the wedding was the party afterwards. I seemed to be the only one frustrated that I waited nearly 2 hours for a 15 minute ceremony.

I had on my afternoon, daylight makeup and my summer outdoor wedding outfit. I realized everyone else wore their nighttime club clothes. When I asked my husband if he realized I had on afternoon makeup, he replied yes. I think that was the thing that saved me from kicking up a fit, going to the car and taking a nap.

Had these people been my friends I would have arrived at 5:30 and left at 6:30.

Please know I am still screaming inside- What is wrong with people? What takes them so long to put on a dress and get down the aisle. They knew at least 14 days before that they had scheduled an event for 5. What happened to make them, the hosts, late? Why are so many wedding couples so rude?!

The bright side, my husband got a chance to catch up with his friends/poker buddies. The wedding had the potential to be very nice and casual. It was a small event, maybe 100 guests. The wedding was outside in a garden the reception in the hall behind it. The dark side, I was too annoyed to appreciate it.

I am a firm believer that the Lord works miracles. I think he creates situations and place people in situations to bless his people.

I also think there are somethings that just happen and some things that we can control and many things that he allows us to control. If something goes wrong I don’t immediately blame the devil, I don’t instantly think God has abandoned the person. It just happened.

I’m quick to say “thank you” to the Lord. I thank him for everything, but there are some things I might do and I won’t put the Lord’s name in it, or around it.

For instance, some years ago, I went to Richmond to get cornrows. I’m not sure why I couldn’t locate someone in Oakland to do it, but I’m sure I wanted a quick little style. I just realized that I don’t have any friends that can braid. I only know a couple folks that know how to use the blow dryer with a comb. I might need to advertise for new friends.

As I was sitting in the shop getting my cornrows, a girl- you know the chicks that just hang out in the salon all day- testified. This wasn’t the type of testimony she could have shared in church but she testified anyway.

She’d had a job interview at Target that went well. They called her back to do a drug test and pending that she would be hired. She panicked because her pee wasn’t pure. She began going through the folks she knew but didn’t know anyone who could give her weed free urine. She didn’t have time to take the pills that clean out the system either.

One of her friends offered up her child. The kid peed, she collected it, went home and put it in her refrigerator.

The next day, she rushed out the house and forgot the pee and her keys. She had locked herself out, and had to seek an alternate source for the pee.

So with time dwindling she went to her friends house for more pee. They had to give the girls son nearly a gallon of water before he could urinate. They put it in a baby bottle, she stuffed the bottle in her pant leg and went to the test.

When she got to the test, she discovered they didn’t allow individuals to take their bags into the bathroom. She had the urine in her pant leg. Praise the Lord.

When she got into the bathroom, she took the bottle and poured the urine in the test cup. As she exited she gave the cup to the lab person and they stuck a thermometer in it. They’d had people presenting cold pee and it had to be a certain temp.

Again praise the Lord. Had she not locked herself out the house, had she not left the refrigerated pee, had she not went to her friends house and been able to take warm pee to the test, she would have missed out on the job.

She gave thanks to God for that.

It sounds a bit messy. But we are admonished to remember the herbs of the field. So maybe MJ is not a drug that God finds messy, maybe the Lord did delay her and create those situations so things would work out on her behalf. Maybe the government is interfering with the herbs God put here to assist us.

I’m not nor have I ever been a weed smoker. I exist in my own euphoria. I don’t need anything to get me there. I do think MJ is less toxic and better than cigarettes and liquor. The drug that can be used without change seems better than liquor which has to be fermented or tobacco which is laced with who knows what.

I dunno, I don’t know how God works. Maybe all that was a divine delay for the weed girl. I won’t try to figure that out.