My kid brother moved to Seattle, Washington this past May. He is the youngest boy of our mighty seven and one who lived with me for three years and remained in North Carolina for five years after that. To say I miss the kid is a major understatement. I am ten years older than him — he was eight when I left for college and confessed to me when he was about twenty years old that he felt his “mother” was leaving him. I carried that with me for a long while but had to remind him — although I was significantly older, I was not his mother — am not his mother — he has one. We have one.
I thought of our connection this morning and it sparked this challenge. Using three words only, give me a snippet of a memory — any memory that sends you sailing down the nostalgic rabbit hole.
estivating — no . . .
He isn’t just visiting somewhere for the summer, he has ventured to make Washington his home — at least for now. I am planning on visiting him sometime next year.
Now, it’s your turn . . . Writers, let’s get creative! Reminisce, but use three words only. Please, bring it!
Originally shared via Medium.
It happened on Tuesday, June 15, 2021, around 5:45 pm. I texted my hairstylist to see what her next available date and time for a Saturday morning would be so that I could make an appointment. Her response to me was, “I’ve stopped doing Saturday appointments altogether.” I was walking my dog, Jernee when the response came through. Instantly, I stopped. I re-read the text.
I did. I re-read it again and the response did not change. She was no longer taking Saturday appointments. This meant my routine of every three to four weeks of a wash, cut, and style would go right out the window. This also meant all the bonding, growing, intense conversations about faith, love, and gainful employment would crawl behind my routine out that same window. My other place of peace will possibly be no more.
The boulder had been drug out, rolled toward me, and it landed . . . hard.
After I gathered myself, I responded by informing her that her new schedule, unfortunately, doesn’t work with mine and I’d have to take a day off to come and get my hair done and at present, my next day off is Tuesday, August 03, 2021. I asked if I could go ahead and lock an appointment for that day since I felt as though many of her clients are having to move their schedules around and her weekdays will probably fill up sooner than later.
This meant my routine of every three to four weeks of a wash, cut, and style would go right out the window.
We agreed on that day — 12:30 pm. It is safe and secure in my digital calendar as an “event” I don’t want to miss.
I applaud my stylist for being able to make a decision to move away from doing something that essentially eats up her entire Saturday and having the courage to step forward in another direction. But without saying it, she has broken up with many of us and for those of us who will not be able to consistently keep up with her new schedule, this means I would have to find another hairstylist.
My intention is to seek a recommendation from her to another hairstylist within the salon who can manage my hair. It’s unruly and thick and wavy and grows funny in the back and I have a blonde patch that she has trimmed so perfectly over the years that is now shading itself a dirty grey. All of this, I love, but who else will?
I trusted her with my hair. Who can I trust to do what she has had the full capability of doing for six years?
But without saying it, she has broken up with many of us and for those of us who will not be able to consistently keep up with her new schedule, this means I would have to find another hairstylist.
Finding a hairstylist who proves him or herself worthy of taking your time and money is a hard task. It can also be a stress-filled one and I want to avoid any new stress factors at this time or in the near future. A recommendation from my current stylist is what I feel deep down, will suit me best.
I feel like I’m being asked to sign divorce papers and I didn’t even agree to a divorce. It feels like another act of abandonment. It reminds me of the pain that comes with leaving bits of yourself with someone you have come to love, respect, and look forward to seeing but now . . . now you have to act as though none of that exists. You are beckoned to put on a happy face, suck it up, and allow these new changes to comfort you.
This is what I want to say but the adult in me knows acting like a three-year-old will get me nowhere. I implore myself to make note of the positives:
1. I’ll get to meet new people.
2. I can work on enhancing my trust meter.
3. I could get new hairstyles.
4. I would still be able to see my old hairstylist and chitchat with her from time to time if I agree to stick with the current hair salon.
5. I can take back my Saturdays as my regular hair appointment days.
As I call these positives within earshot, I feel better. I am not a fan of change especially when my comfort level is secure and I feel safe in the bubble designed for me. The moment that bubble is deflated is the very moment I have trouble seeing what could be beneficial for me behind my cloudy vision. I have to be reminded of previous positive changes. I have to remember how much their influence and impact had on my life and how I have grown for making those changes.
You are beckoned to put on a happy face, suck it up, and allow these new changes to comfort you.
After six years, my stylist is breaking up with me. There will be no fanfare or party or gifts exchanged. I do not look forward to inquiring about a recommendation — it feels like stepping over a line — like perhaps, maybe I should not ask. But she is also the perfect person to ask since she works in the same building with the same women and men doing exactly what she does on a daily basis. Someone there should be open to taking on new clients and perhaps they will be interested in taking on me.
Cue a-ha, Take on Me (this is still one of my favorite videos, btw).
2021 has been full of surprises so far. I guess if there was any year to jump into a sea of changes, this one is the perfect one in which to do so. Good thing I usually don’t have much trouble swimming. Let’s hope I can stay afloat long enough with whoever will be my new hairstylist — let’s hope I won’t have to change again after landing the new one or in the near future.
The moment that bubble is deflated is the very moment I have trouble seeing what could be beneficial for me behind my cloudy vision.
Six long years have come and gone. More are ahead of me if I am lucky. Six years from now, maybe I’ll even have different hair or a different way of addressing what my hair needs and what I want for my hair. For right now, one step at a time.
Originally published via Medium.
We know music can settle the mind, lift us up when we’re down, and can cause us to tap into our most creative sides. But . . . music can help get us living, breathing human beings into this world too. Come on, you know what I mean — baby-making music. Not just love songs, but songs played for the sole purpose of making love.
There are love songs and then there are songs you spin simply to rock and roll and I ain’t talking about heavy metal. When I think of musical artists who have had their time in my CD player during my most romantic adventures, they include: Maxwell, Luther Vandross, Barry White, Teddy Pendergrass, Marvin Gaye, and The Isley Brothers. Plainly put, the crooners.
Have you ever wondered if your parents were listening to their favorite baby-making song when they made you? Have you ever asked them? What was their response? If you’re a parent, did you and your partner pop that sexy tune of which you couldn’t get enough in the boombox while y’all shattered previous sexcapade records?
Come on, don’t be shy. We’re all family here.
This list, although rather short, are the songs I believe to be the most played during “sexy time” and songs to which you were probably conceived.
From the beginning of the song, Marvin makes it clear what his intentions are and why. When this song is played, there is no doubt as to what is about to go down. No doubt at all!
Oh, honey, I hope you never freeze
I love you, I love you so much
Oh baby, baby, don’t ever go away
Oh stay with me baby, I’ll love you night and day
This song needs no explanation. The title makes it clear and plain. Ron Isley is no stranger to crooning and when he gets his, “Ooh, Ooh baby, baby” moments on in this song, the only plausible thing is to let nature run its course and to let the baby-making begin.
Ooh, girl, I’ll love you all night long
And I know you felt it comin’ on
Ooh, darlin’, just taste my love, ooh, you taste so sweet
Sharin’ our love between the sheets
Teddy P.’s voice was smooth as silk and completely come-hitherish. He says openly and without shame, “Close the door. Let me give you what you’ve been waiting for. Baby, I’ve got so much love to give and I’m gonna give it all to you.” So many babies have been made while this song played in the background. I dare you to refute me on this one.
No need to worry no more
Let’s bring this day to a pleasant end
Girl, it’s me and you now
I’ve waited all day long just to hold you in my arms
And it’s exactly like I thought it would be
Me loving you and you loving me
Although without any memorable lyrics, the melody is an unforgettable one. When Moments in Love begins, I immediately know the song — I know I’m in for a treat; one that includes harmonic genius and is anything but “noise.” Throw this little ditty on when the need arises to further overpopulate the Earth.
The late, great Maestro, Barry White had so many hit songs under his belt. His voice is one that will never be forgotten. He could say three words and women would fall out all over the stage based on that particular utterance.
With a voice fully coated in bass and a presence that could be defined as boldly seductive, Barry, I’m sure, helped bring many of you reading this bit of musical tidbit into existence.
You touch me, baby
But don’t cha know
You can’t hide
No, no, baby
When you give it up
It’s only enough
To get me by
Music, with its luring capabilities, has proven, over the years, to be such a multifaceted tool for human beings. We dance to it. We cook when listening to it. We write while it’s playing . . . But when love is being made during its few minutes and moments of ecstasy, life is the result of it.
And really, isn’t that a beautiful thing?
Go on and turn on your favorite baby-making song, draw that bubble bath, coerce your honey dip into turning in early, and let the good times roll.
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