You Are Not Alone

Happy Saturday,

I hate the devil! I’m pretty sure his sentiments toward me are the same, but because he doesn’t have what I have and WHO I have I absolutely understand his disdain for my brothers, sisters and me. Like a jilted, third grader ousted from the playground dodge ball game for fighting, the enemy is just “jelly” that we’re a part of a wonderful fellowship as children of God that just so happened to have given him the boot. So he tries to poison our thoughts and pick fights with our mind trying to get us confused, alone, discombobulated and isolated like him.

I’ve never played many games, but I sure can peep them. And I don’t feel sorry for satan at all for being in the predicament he’s in. Too bad. So sad. Boo, Hoo. Cry me a river and gone ’bout yo’ business, satan! With that said, I’d like to put the devil on blast, calling him out as a jealous, child-like, defeated, deceiver who gets his kicks from convincing people that they are alone. He’s a #liar. The mere fact that we are all people and there are other people negates the fact that we are ever, ever alone, literally and figuratively. Yet, still, he (meaning that non-factor satan) would like nothing more than to have people think that there are not other people who love them, care about them, think of them, pray for them, need them, admire them, support them, are there for them, will help them, believe in them, want what’s best for them…and are assigned by our sweet Daddy God, to be a part of His promises for their life coming to pass.


So, in case you, like I, have ever, at any weakened time in life, fallen into that little trap of believing you are alone know that you are not alone. Believe that!



Starting Over



Starting over can be a lot of things…scary, embarrassing, costly, expensive, hard, time-consuming, tiring, discouraging, upsetting, redundant, a juggling act, foreign to you, challenging, anger-filled, isolating, inconsistent, a mental war, draining, physically overwhelming, a social nightmare, a tough pill to swallow, faith-testing,  peaceless, joy-removing, publicly humiliating, delayed, depleting, spiritually demanding, a failure the first, second or tenth time, mind-boggling, and gut-wrenchingly painful.

However, regardless of how you see it, how you say it, how it feels or what it takes, the courage to start over is always indisputably the best option, unequivocally necessary and absolutely rewarding.

The End.

(or actually…The Beginning.)



Cut Out That Clacking

Sometimes I wonder if I share TMI (too much information) on my blog. Today is one of those days, which is why I will get in, drop off this nugget and scoot out with my dignity in tact. So here I go…


For two years I wore a boot with a bad heel. No, not in the Run DMC Peter Piper-esq “bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good” sense, but as in bad meaning bad. Somewhere between a Girls Night Out in early 2013, a hot date in December of 2013 and a DC dance floor in 2014 the tap of the heel of my sparkled, ankle-length bootie met its demise. And guess what, I still continued to wear it. Yikes!

Clacking to and fro looking fabulous from the ankle up, I was also sounding foolish from the heel down to those with a keen ear who could hear the click, clacking, pitter pat of my size 10 transporters making their presence known sometimes before I did. Why did I do that knowing all I needed to do was get them fixed? I don’t know. Complacency? Possibly. Not wanting to invest in something that was already a costly investment? Could be. Hopeful that no one would know? Quite the option. Mad because it “seemed” like I was always having to fix things? Maybe. Waiting on some shoe angel to swoop in, hear me clacking and fix my problem for me, miraculously delivering my shoes to the cobbler for upkeep? That’s likely. Or was it plain ol’ laziness? Perhaps.


Take a look at my beautiful bootie. This, of course, is pre-no tap, but she’ll be back soon minus the click-clack.


Anywho, this morning I woke up deciding it was finally time to cut out that clacking. Pretty boot season is in full effect and I need to fully represent. Enough of me having the power to fix things, while pretending like there was no problem, having to sit with my leg gingerly crossed at the ankle so the exposed heel would not be exposed. After leaving a luncheon today I plan on heading straight to the shoe shop with not one, but two pair of shoes. Yep. I’m going all in, people! And I’m going at it alone too, having, in the past relied on my daddy, my ex-husband, or whatever lovely guy friend I had to handle matters of that manner. (Shout out to those who, dare I say it, spoiled me in that regard.) It dawned on me that I have never had shoes fixed before myself. There’s got to be some hidden lesson in there for me somewhere on top of not walking around with tapless shoes. So, I’m patting myself on the back in advance for walking out this small step. (Get it? ‘Step’ as in boots, as in “these boots were made for walking”? Ha! Ha!)

I get it, finally. Those boots represent life. They represent the things we all have or face in life that we just don’t want to deal with for whatever reason, settling for them being less than their best with not much surface reason in mind. So we carry on seemingly business as usual with clacking in the background. Enough of that clacking!

I believe with my whole heart and my new heels that this small step will take me to leaps and bounds so much bigger than boots. So the next time you see me rocking those beautiful booties, know that you won’t hear me first. If you clack, I won’t clack back…LOL! (I crack me up!) Do know also, dearies, that the next time I come in those surprisingly comfortable, black, suede, sparkled-heel, ankle-strapped booties I’ll be coming correct, and the boots are only the beginning!



What You’re Going Through



Having the privilege to live alone and spend time by myself has given me an insight I don’t think I had or knew I had before when I was busied with the affairs of others. Part of that privilege also extends to being able to wake when I want to, and sometimes when I’m not ready to, to ponder silently or aloud thoughts going through my mind. Case in point, this morning at 1:30am. Why on earth I woke out of a good sleep that early is a mystery to me. I’m glad I was able to go back to sleep and only had to put a little bit of concealer on my already puffy eyes, but in the moments I was up at “0 dark 30” I was inspired with this post. Perhaps it’s for you. I know it’s for me.

  • What you’re going through might have shocked you, but it won’t stop you.
  • What you’re going through is not going to define you, but will catapult you to greatness that defies definition.
  • What you’re going through will be shaped by your own attitude and actions, not those of others. (Check yourself, boo.)
  • What you’re going through is not meant or sent to shame or embarrass you, but to attract an audience front and center to witness the awesomeness that comes out of where you are.
  • What you’re going through may not be easy, but most lasting victories aren’t. (You’re in good company.)
  • What you’re going through is not a step backwards, but a pause/yield/halt/put on the brakes to launch you forward.
  • What you’re going through is not punishment, payback, “a mother” (as in payback is a ‘mother’), Karma, a boomerang effect or what you get for what you’ve done.
  • What you’re going through is not meant to isolate (cut off) you, but insulate (cover) you. (Let that marinate.)
  • What you’re going through is adding to your arsenal of ammunition against fear and doubt, even as it may be trying to make you fearful and doubtful. (No fear. No doubt.)
  • What you’re going through will be rectified in such a way that you’ll one day have to convince others that you’ve actually gone through what you’ve gone through because no negative residue will remain. (Only good.)
  • What you’re going through can’t dim your shine or discount your story. (Don’t let it.)
  • What you’re going through may frustratingly feel like what you’d ALREADY come out of, but that’s because you can be trusted to come out. (Believe that.)
  • What you’re going through is NOTHING new to God and NOTHING too hard for God.
  • What you’re going through is not about you, but all about God getting the glory out of what He’s allowing for your gain and the good of others.



I’m Onboard with My Vision Board

I’ll admit. I like to party. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not talking about the kind of partying that was partly responsible for my 1.8 GPA my first semester in college, but the kind that brings great people, even better food, and some super cool celebrations together no matter how grand or how much grander. So when the thought of a Vision Board Party came to mind I was excited. I admitted to my guests that I’d actually placed more thought in the menu than actually what my vision board would represent, but once I set my mind to it, in the midst of scissors, glue, glitter, stickers, card board, poster board and magazine madness it was like I’d been transported to another world…the future, my future that is. To say the Vision Board Party was fun would be an understatement! There was just something special about being bold enough to put my “bees-wax” on display for others to see. I was shocked I was brave enough to include this:


As much of a romantic, “I believe in love, I know I’m meant to be some Heaven-sent husband’s wonderful wife” I’m focused on a few more important things right now and I don’t want to find a man. He has to find me. So I resisted posting this (even though I was truly tempted…LOL!):


I muddled through the mess that evolved from my dining room floor slightly surprised that there was no mention of material things on my board. Yes, there is an entire section devoted to vacation and travel (a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do), and the word “home” is spotlighted as I’m in need of getting rid of one and securing another quickly and miraculously, but not a mention of cars, purses, shoes, shopping, jewelry or any of the other things the old me would have been pasting like a 4th grader with unlimited glue and glitter gone wild. Instead I was surprisingly focused on things more spiritual, social and physical (like faith, Jesus, healthier food, inspiring quotes and the aforementioned “thighs and butt”), dreams I’ve had and sat on (sometimes nearly suffocating them) like being an author and inspiration, and achieving wealth to receive and share.


Let me tell you how much I was into this party. I was so engrossed with my vision board coming to life that I sat down on the floor. Yikes! Those of you who know me know I’m a girly girl in every sense of the word, opting against things remotely related to being on the floor, being surrounded by clutter, and traipsing back and forth through glitter on the ground and ultimately in my hair. With the blaring background sounds of the Prince station on Pandora not only did I do it, but I didn’t regret it a bit. Since we’re on the subject of your purple highness, if you haven’t listened to the Prince station on Pandora you need to do yourself a favor and listen.  I digress.


I was pleased with my finished product and the finished product of the finished product that I tweaked after all of the guests and chicken wings were gone. Her next step? To hang in my office, in all her neon green glory, as a daily reminder of what my dreams look like so that when I finally see them I’ll know it’s partly because I dared to do so.

PS…If you’ve never had or attended a Vision Board Party I would definitely recommend you do so. I can host it, or be your guest. Because after all, I do like to party, especially when it’s with a purpose.




I Learned a Thing or Two at Twin Peaks

A Friday night attempt to see the movie Selma proved to be fruitless after parking spaces and tickets were all taken. With a gift card initially purchased for someone who didn’t receive it, we decided to hop over the parking lot in the Hoover, Alabama area to the sports bar Twin Peaks. I shall not dwell much into the attire of the scantily clad (complete with sparkly necklaces) servers, but will say they were all quite pleasant, and having televisions ALL around the room, including at our table, and the barbecue nachos made for a surprisingly delightful night.

While eating our food we engaged in a bit of eavesdropping with the five gentlemen in the booth behind us. Not intentional, and certainly by default as their voices rose while the elixir flowed, we would later find out that they ranged in age from 23-38, which explains what I’m about to share.


The topic of their conversation started about, guess what, women. The 23-year-old was lamenting (i.e. a bit bitter) about a jilted relationship complete with trips out-of-town to visit his unrequited love, Ugg boots and “anything she wanted to feel special”. Obviously that wasn’t enough for her, and his friends held back nothing to let him know. Being enticed all the more to tune in to what was being shared, we devoured nachos and fried pickles just quietly enough to access the varying views about love, sex, men and women, God, dating, work, who used to work at Hooters, but is now at Twin Peaks. Their thoughts, feelings, and emotions were so casually, freely, and loudly shared, especially as the “baby boy” as he shall be unknowingly called, and the “Scripture boy” as he shall be named intertwined in a conversation as heated as the spicy chicken fingers about what the Bible says about sex, and what Ephesians 5 says about submission. Wanting a “second opinion” of sorts, one of them decided to turn and ask our opinion. Knowing we were already secretly privy to all that had already been shared, we shared our opinions as women more than twice some of the ages. That lead to the embarking on of a few minutes of enlightening, fun, funny, eyebrow raising, reflective, wisdom sharing, gasp-filled, different perspective offering and yes, funny again conversation with these strangers.


We learned one of them was from Africa, grew up in the Ensley Brickyards (the old one, not the new fangled fancy one) and was proud of that. We further learned that the 23-year-old was still hurting from being kicked to the curb. We learned one of them goes to church in Midfield, has never drank and has a sly sense of humor sprinkled with a bit of “holiness” as he said. We learned the quite one in the corner (who just so happened to be of another race) was hilarious. We learned that “if you snooze you loose” when someone says I want to introduce you to my friend. We learned that they all wanted love, based on the stage of life they were in.

What I think I truly took home with me though, is the reminder that, in some regards men and women really are not that different from one another. All I heard, and all I just wrote about is not too far of a stretch from an evening with my girls. The thoughts, feelings, emotions, hopes, dreams, transparent conversations, heated exchanges done in love, trust of the opinions of others and embarrassing laughter only vary based on the level of treble, bass, estrogen and testosterone.


Whether it’s men and women, young and old, black and white, and everyone else in between and all around, I think the real reason we often don’t know that we’re not as different as we think we are is because we don’t take the time to talk to, laugh with, or laugh at each other (in a Friday night at Twin Peaks kind of way, of course).



I’ve Been Thinking…About Food


It’s no secret. I have an affinity for food. I appreciate it, and think of it often, not just for consumption, but as an inspiration for many things, some random, others not as much.

One morning while warming my breakfast I started thinking of some things about food. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason regarding my thought process, just thoughts that popped into my head as I watched the microwave spin and listened to it hum. Taking a node from David Allen Grier’s character from In Living Color…Wanna hear it? Here it goes.


  • You can tell a lot about a person based on what they pull out of the company refrigerator.
  • Oatmeal in January tastes a lot better than oatmeal in July.
  • Coffee drinkers speak their own language as they connect with other coffee drinkers while looking over the rim of their favorite cup, with aromatic steam seeping to their nostrils.
  • The words “free food” brings out the, shall we say, “interesting” side of people.
  • A good bowl of Frosted Flakes or Apple Jacks goes a long, long way.
  • Butter, cinnamon, sugar (brown, especially) and “Slap Ya’ Mama” make food “sang”. (Yes, I said “sang”, not “sing”.)
  • The hot dogs from Sam’s Club are everything, and don’t dare have them hand you a cool packet of sauerkraut.
  • “Purple” and “Red” Kool-Aid are like teleporters…they instantly take you back in time.
  • A potluck lunch tells you a lot about a person’s priorities.
  • Good food from a truck in the middle of the night is like finding the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks.
  • Everybody can’t make Red Velvet Cake. Don’t be fooled, people.
  • Candlelight and the right company can make a can of Spam and a cup of Tang taste like a culinary delight.
  • Breakfast for dinner should be done at least once a week.
  • Cheese, chocolate, Honeycrisp apples, and Berry Punch Minute Maid are gifts from the angels…
  • The food I’m most allergic to (shellfish, dairy, etc.) is the food I most enjoy:(
  • There is a difference in Sweet Potato Pie and Pumpkin Pie. Okay? Okay.
  • Often the ones who don’t look like they eat a lot do. (Trust me. I know.)
  • When you’re really, really thirsty there is no substitute for good, cold water, even if you have to use two hands to scoop it to your mouth.
  • Everyone deserves a nice, extravagant “I can’t believe I’m eating this kind of food at this fru-fru restaurant” kind of meal from time-to-time.
  • Hot sauce and pepper sauce are a must have.
  • CAKE!!!!!!!!!! (That’s all I’ll say about that.)