Egg Salad = White People Food.

One day, Zandria, the mom of a White family across the street, was babysitting my little brother and I. We played with the kids almost every day after school so we weren’t strangers to making a funky good time for seven and five year-olds. While we were running through the house flipping and jumping (something that was not allowed in my house so we were taking full advantage of the opportunity), I saw the mom holding a very large bowl and stirring what looked like lumpy yellow pudding with a very big wooden spoon so I walked over to “investigate the scene”.

I asked her what it was and she told me it was egg salad and that we were going to have it for lunch. I stared at her for a while and she smiled at me. It seemed like she knew what was going on in my head. I was thinking "She is NOT feeding ME and MY little brother NONE of that. We will wait until Mom and Dad get back home".

I had never ever ever..ever ever EVEEEEERRR heard of such a thing ever in my whole entire life - All seven years. Boiled eggs. Check. Scrambled eggs. Check. Deviled eggs. Check. Fried eggs. Check. The aforementioned were all familiar but EGG SALAD? What the H-E- double hockey sticks kind of concoction was that? I concluded I had never heard of it because it was …well.. “White people food”. Look, call it what you want but all groups of peoples have their own foods. Let’s be serious.

Anyway she put some on her finger and asked me to taste it and I told her “Are you stupid? Is that your FINGER that you are asking me to put my mouth on?” (In my head I said that. No need to ruin my day with a whooping when Mom and Dad got home). After a short back and forth of her putting her finger closer and closer to my mouth and me pursing my lips tighter and tighter and shaking my head left to right harder and harder, I finally tasted it and umm yeah.. it WAS White people food. Just as I suspected.

Twenty three years later, I stumbled on this great little shop, run by two sisters, in the corridors of a bank on Pearl and State Streets in Albany, NY that sells homemade egg salad sandwiches and I LOVE them. I have no idea why I even tasted them to begin with but I did and I'm forever grateful to Sweet Baby Jesus for it. And as you've probably guessed... they are indeed White and I’m Black. Still. Well.. actually I’m brown but.. the point is.. me and egg salad are in this for the long haul. Ebony and ivory, son. LOL.

Stress vs Peace

I've been struggling for a while about whether or not I would like to have kids. I've reached the the forbidden age of 30. The age when you begin to question yourself and what you've accomplished so far or what you will do with what time you have left.

When I was younger I played with Barbie. I don't know what story line other little girls had but this was mine. She and Ken were married but they didn't have kids of their own. Instead, they had taken responsibility for raising Barbie's younger sister, Skipper. I'm not sure where Barbie and Skipper's mom and dad were so don't ask. Even at an early age I knew that decisions to birth and raise your own babies meant giving up a LOT of yourself and it wasn't all it's often hyped up to be.

I have friends and relatives who have kids that are now 14, 15 and 16 who have to deal with things that I would never imagine, i.e. the kids are having sexual encounters, stealing, getting arrested, talking back, flunking school etc. Certainly I'm not saying that EVERY kid I know is a plain clothes devil. Nor am I implying that each of the parents are bad parents. But the reality is babies become hormonally challenged teenagers and then hopefully, with their parents' help and their own will power, they will become thriving adults. At least that's the plan. That sounds like a lot of unwanted stress to me.

I'm not betrothed to be married at this moment but I do know one thing for sure. Parenting is NOT something to be done alone. There's no other way to say that. The tears, the joys, the teaching, the disciplining and the relationships are to be shared with a compatible teammate aka a spouse. While I want to do all I can to be stress free I suppose if my mate sincerely wants children and I'm confident that he will be in for the long haul I could agree to the parenting "contract". God help me.. lol.

I wonder if other people are/were as scared as I am. Are/were you?

Dear Man-Skirt Wearer: You Make Me Sick...

I was at a grassroots conference this weekend and there was a guy there with a skirt on. It made me mad. Like, "WTF" (note: "F" is for frick) mad. I mean.. how and where did he find a turquoise knee-length stone-washed jean skirt with a slit in the back? And who told him to match it with that fitted black and white shirt? I mean.. how come gay men are out doing heterosexual females in the fashion arena?

I was so mad that the man-skirt wearer didn't even have to wear Spanx with his skirt and here I am Spanxed up and holding my breath. Uuggh. Don't get me started.. I'm about to cry..

When I was traveling a few days ago, the guy at the Albany airport McDonald's counter had on the most perfectly blended eye makeup ever. I wanted to scratch his pretty little eyes out because he was just that dang on cute. Note: I was cute, too, just not as equally cute. Yeah.. I can admit my faults.

Ladies, we have got to take a stance against this. We have got to get our fashion and make-up skills up. We can not let the gay men show us out. Please repeat after me and take this pledge.. "I will never ever go to the airport without my makeup looking like I'm about to walk the meanest catwalk that life has to offer. I will never say 'I'm only going to such & such place so I don't have to put my makeup on to the best of my ability' again. I am Sasha Fierce".

Peace be unto you my sisters and sistahs. And to you gay/you think you are better than me men... "Up your's buddy.. Don't call it a come back.. I've been here for ... almost 30 years!" (LLCOOLJ song reference.. If you don't already know.. sigh)

Note: We can't assume that a man is gay because he has on a skirt.. a dress? Maybe. A skirt.. not so sure. Eye makeup? Hmm.. Lipstick? Yes. Bahaaaa. I'm cracking up. I think I'm going to put on some makeup to wash my dishes. I can't wait for the next conference.. I'm going to be the most bestest non gay man woman in the zip code. You'll see.

Dear Man-Skirt wearer: Thanks for the wake up call. I have got to do better.. lol.

I Had A Dream..

source

I took a nap today after church and I had a dream, an epiphany of sorts..well maybe.

There was a man that would call me and say things like..”Come out of your bedroom and look in the kitchen” (there would be little surprises strategically placed around the apartment for me). I can admit it was kind of creepy/stalkerish but I participated. I thought maybe he had some camera system in my house or maybe he had a telescope from across the street or something and was monitoring my every move. Note: It did come across my mind to call the police because there are some things people do when they think that they are all alone that they probably wouldn’t want other people to see but .. like I said.. it was a dream so.. yeah.

One time he left a surprise for me on my kitchen counter. A bag with some yellow gloves so I could wash the dishes (I’m not a fan of the sport). I didn't have the heart to tell him that I already had some gloves and the supposed lack wasn't the reason I didn't wash the mound of dishes towering in my kitchen sink.

Another day (I’m not sure if it was later that afternoon or what. You know you can hardly ever tell the time in dreams. That sucks.) We had a bit of a "coming out" party in the lobby of my building. Note: I don’t have a lobby now but I was living in my same apartment in the dream but this lobby had elevators and benches to sit on. Anyway the gentleman caller had basically been living under my stairs in the dirty basement. He was a homeless person who was sneaking in my apartment leaving gifts as a means to win my heart over. I was all over him at the party and we were having a GREAT time. I was semi oblivious to his um.. situation. His shoes were so dirty and his clothes were tattered, he was really a bum. I was embarrassed of him at the party but I was happy! I was “in like”. For those of you that don’t know the stages leading up to love this one comes about 30 minutes before being officially IN love. It’s basically the point where you think about him every night as you fall asleep and then every morning before you put your feet on the floor. This point is also WAY before you find out about the inevitable lies. Sigh.

The dream ended with me practically laying in his lap and us smiling ear to ear and all of our friends (really I had one friend there and the others were stand ins) standing around us beaming with approval.

So does this mean that I need to be less picky and I then I can be in a happy relationship? Maybe love doesn't come in a pre-designed pre-approved package and you can just add the man to your dental plan and take him shopping at a discount store with his government assistance that you get him set up with. Maybe it's been me all along that has been hindering my relationship status OR maybe it was just a dream meant to entertain me, you know how God’s sense of humor is – sometimes you just don’t get it but you give a hardy pretend laugh anyway. I don't know...

That's deep. Ain't it? I'm deep. Real deep. So deep that I'm on top of this thing instead of being under it. Yup, that’s me. Deepeesha Dinkins. I’m all over it. Do you ever interpret your dreams?

Tomorrow is Day One ... AGAIN..AGAIN

Today I bought a few shirts and um.. let's just say they either ALL have a sizing problem or I've g-g-g-gained weight since my hiatus from the gym. As you may recall I began a quasi workout regimen back in September.

Sadly, I have to report that I missed a few days ..err.. umm.. weeks (well maybe it was a whole two months... stop pressuring me to expose myself.) and now I have a bit of a situation. So, I am officially announcing that Big Girl Workout 2009 is now Big Girl Workout 2010. Starting tomorrow I'm going to go back to the gym and I'm going to stick with it. I wish I had a partner to do it with so things could be a little bit easier. This way we could hold each other accountable. The conversation would go like this "You aren't going to go to the gym, AGAIN?," says your friend. And then you reply, "No. Not today. I will go tomorrow." And then your friend goes, "Well I hope you AND your fat have a fun filled day. Ciao."


Do you have a workout buddy? Is she cuter than you? I was thinking that I need to make sure her situation is similar to mine because otherwise that wouldn't be very fair or friendly like. Not that I'm not cute but the emphasis on the "er" part. I mean how would it look for her to reach her goal weight or ideal look months before you do? How are you both going to be on the treadmill and you are the only one out of breath?

So I think I'm going to hang out at Lane Bryant or Fashion Bug this weekend and collect myself a fellow Big Girl Committee workout partner or on second thought, maybe I had better just continue to work it out alone. Lol. To infinity and beyond folks. As they say (just who exactly IS they?), the second time is a charm.

Rats Really Do Live In The Sewer

So the video (taken from worldstarhiphop.com)will tell it all. There isn't really much more that I need to say but as you may already know.. I like to talk.



I mean, after seeing this, I really do think that I'm going to make for certain that my toilet seat is down at all times and I am NEVER EVER going to squat without looking first again. My friend just told me the other day that the "alligators in the sewer" story is a mere fable. I beg to differ.

So, ladies (and men who have to sit to "do their business") be very aware, in case you don't mind getting your booty bitten by the toilet monster, I'm just sayin...

The Gynecologist

So why is it that when we go to the gynecologist we hide our panties? After the nurse leaves I take off all of my clothes and quickly tuck my panties between the legs of my folded pants. I've even put them in my purse once before. I mean, how would it look for me to be laying on the bed basically "neckit" and she (I prefer female docs because if I want a man to see my lady box I know a number to call. Well..at least I used to.) looks over and sees my panties?!! Yikes.

And what about that awkward feeling when you are not properly placed on the bed and she sits down with her face about 12 inches away from your Erie Canal and she keeps saying "Just bring your bottom down a little more. A little more. Just a little bit more."? I'm thinking "Um.. it just might be a good idea for you to take about 5 steps back while I get it together here. I'm just sayin."

Do you guys do the smell test before they come in? I do. I mean I suppose if you aren't fresh it's not as if you would quickly take a bird bath in the sink. Imagine if the doc and nurse walked in and saw you with your leg up on the sink and a brown paper towel full of hand soap?


And what about when she inserts her hand in your vagina and you are almost certain that you feel her fingers brushing up against your molars and she starts with the "How is the weather out there?" or "What are you doing for the holidays?" small talk.

Oh and when she says "Are you taking any illegal drugs?" are you supposed to say yes or no? What if you say yes, will the ATF meet you at the billing desk on your way out with the canine team?

And I absolutely hate the look she gives when she asks "So you last had sex when?! Is everything ok?" One day I'm going to tell her that we all have our own crosses to bear and that the Bible says "She who haveth a good man who has never done her any wrong shall cast the first stone".