Ain’t No Competition

Competition can be tricky, especially when it comes to comparing ourselves to those before or after us. This can be so in jobs, with relationships, within families, in leadership positions or other areas of life. I was having a conversation with a co-worker about this very fact and the additional fact that there shouldn’t be competition. It’s as simple as that.


We are who we are, where we are and when we are who we are for where we are because of a plan bigger than those before us or after us. Each persons serves his or her purpose for a particular season of time. There is no need to feel inadequate, feel superior, frequently reference those before or after us, try to outdo and spin our wheels trying to win a race we shouldn’t even be running. Again, it’s as simple as that. To spend time comparing and competing with the person who held the spot before us, or the persons who will hold the spot after us is not only counterproductive, but it’s self-destructive.

The only competition we should regularly engage in is in a healthy goal to always do better than the great and wonderful things we’ve already done. So when it comes to competition….ain’t no competition. It’s as simple as that.



I Spilled My Tea

Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking to a group of students from Birmingham’s Woodlawn High School through a mentoring program/small group I host called Steps to Success. The two speakers I’d arranged to come and talk about Money Matters couldn’t make it for very important reasons which left me faced with figuring out in the 11th hour what I was going to talk to them about during the one hour after school I had their full attention. I sat down in front of them and explained the absence of our speakers and asked what they wanted to hear about. One of my more quiet young men hollered out, “You, we want to know more about you.” So that set the stage for me spilling my tea about me…the Ramsay High School Version, that is.


For a little over an hour, over the backdrop of pouring rain, whispers, giggles, and teens smacking on Little Ceasar’s pizza I told them about skipping school (and the subsequent interaction with a belt that followed), arguing with my parents about not letting me stay in a hotel for prom (and the subsequent interaction with a belt that followed), the battle with the curfew (and the subsequent interaction with a belt that followed), my high school boyfriend’s horrific murder, relying on the support of family, friends, medical professionals and the Lord to help me heal and deal, the importance of being involved in extra-curricular activities to meet new and exiting people and experiences, and so on and so on.


The things I shared with them were for them, but as I rehearsed my own words, I realize that even now, at my age, or any age they still apply to me, and so many. Here’s what I shared with them:

• If you love someone tell them.

• Use your words carefully for fear they will come to pass.

• Use your words boldly with confidence they will come to pass.

• The heart can heal.

• Choose your friends very, very wisely, recognizing that some may have to one day get off the bus (or be kicked off) because they’re no longer headed in your direction.

• One day you will be someone’s husband, wife, mother, father, leader, Pastor, CEO, teacher, etc. and who you are today can greatly affect that role one way or the other.

• Different is a great way to be.

• It’s okay to start over, and over, and over. Just don’t settle in your mistakes.

• Stay connected to teachers, mentors, and associates who are where you want to be, or can help you get there.

• Don’t rush to get old. Stay and enjoy the beauty of right where you are as long as you can.

• Somebody loves you, believes in you and will do their part for you to become who you are created to be…if you let them.

• Our elders got to be old for a reason. Usually they know of what they speak.

• And lastly…never, ever skip school following the Annual College Fair at the Civic Center to go to Ensley Park with friends and a boy with a name you now can not even remember. In the end, after that interaction with a belt you won’t remember his name, only the embarrassment from having to wear a black and white striped, mini-skirt ensemble from Parisian in Eastdale Mall in Montgomery the next day which gave gentle, glimpses of the interaction with the belt. Years after this bit of teenage tomfoolery, you’ll only be privy to enough of the pain from that interaction and sketchy details from the eating pizza in the park story to tell and gain many a gasp and lots of “Oh my gooooddddnneessss, Ms. Moore, I know you didn’t do something like that”, from a group of amazing kids. (And to the non-believers in the power of discipline. No, my parents did not in any way abuse me. They loved me enough to do their part to save me from a path of “Self-Destruction” as the old hip-hop hit went.)



Dip Baby, Dip. Come on…Dip!

Hi Guys and Dolls, Please follow my new blog at It’s all about food, glorious food!


Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen is known for many things…fresh seafood, long lines to be seated, memorable drinks, a great Sunday brunch (at least at the one found in Atlanta, Ga), a fun atmosphere, and festive Mardi Gras inspired décor popping with vibrant purples, greens, yellows and other feel good colors. It’s also known for the best of New Orleans cuisine from wherever you are that the restaurant just so happens to be.

I won’t go on and on about its entrees or desserts just yet. Believe me I could. Instead, I’d like to pay homage to the appetizers. Two of my favorite appetizers there include the Shrimp and Crawfish Fondeaux and their Salmon. Creamy, unique, palate-pleasing, rich, decadent, share-worthy, warm, and delicious are all words which come to mind when I think of them both. My most recent rendezvous with these satisfying, savory treats came while celebrating my 43rd birthday with friends…

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We Don’t Have a Patent on Problems

Hot off the press (remixed)…

Life Gets Better


Problems can be interesting instruments.  Many of the greatest businesses, solutions and associations have been birthed after the demise of other businesses, solutions and associations. On the flipside, many of the greatest businesses, solutions and associations have died after the demise other businesses, solutions and associations. Problems are like an electrical socket. If you come in contact with it the wrong way it can hurt, but like an electrical socket, problems can give us power if we use it. The key is to plug in and use it!

Years ago I watched my now nearly five-year-old niece develop, I was amazed at how the process of learning had taken on a tremendously different approach for her. Whether through learning how to walk, how to dance or how to say her name, each time she tried, whether she had difficulty doing it or even failed at her attempt, there was nothing within her that told…

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Simple Satisfactions


I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes I can be over-the-top. That’s over-the-top as in the best, most unassuming, harmless, southern, sometimes spoiled kind of way of course. I like things big, flashy, special, sparkly and fancy. I believe I always have, and, at 43, I likely always will. But today I’m going to take a cue from Guy and “just chill”.

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Well, this weekend, I’m in the midst of some Saturday satisfactions. There’s nothing major on my calendar (for three weeks running), and I am surprisingly okay with that. I’m not surprised at how much of my home, my life, and my blessings I’d missed, forgotten or overlooked while immersed in times more busy.


My world-famous French toast

There’s nothing like settling down or slowing down that allows one to see, feel, and really know just how great life really is. And life really is great when I take the time to realize it. So today as I peck out a blog post, prepare to devour my world-famous french toast with a hint of the perfect pairing of rum and orange flavoring, watch a few flicks on Netflix , and the Cooking Channel, relax with loved ones, stare at the dust on the bookshelf and not do a thing about it, listen to the ducks serenade me, light up a couple of scented candles with varying scents, flounce around in too little leggings and BREATHE I’m more determined than ever to be simply satisfied with the simple satisfactions in life.

I hope your day offers you equal satisfaction in ways you never imagined. Happy Saturday, guys and dolls!



If We Must Be Botched…

A quite afternoon at home left me channel surfing landing on a new reality show called “Botched”. At first, I must admit, I was going in with my judgment glasses on planning to see a bunch of gasp-inducing people and subconsciously preparing to draw my own conclusions on them and the cosmetic surgery issues with which they were dealing.


I watched the episode featuring a former reality star with stage name derived from a city and state I hope to visit in June to see Brandy on Broadway as Roxie in Chicago. I digress. This starlet’s nose and girly issues were troublesome, however not nearly as severe as the other two people featured on this particular episode of the show. The plastic surgery mishaps they’d been living with did not disappoint in the gasp-induceness I expected. I can only imagine how they must have felt each and every day of their lives they’d lived with these issues. It was actually gut-wrenching to know that, for whatever reason, be it their own or another, they’d been living with surgical mishaps which had not only affected them physically, but emotionally, socially and a bunch of other words ending in “ally”.

So I watched “Botched”, like the former big, bad “it takes a lot to shake me”, “if it bleeds it leads”, “show me the blood” newsie that I used to be. I watched not having to turn my head, settle my stomach or cover my mouth in disbelief. I watched “Botched”, eyes full-on my flat screen with baited breath to see what wonders the plastic surgeons could work. I won’t spoil the episode talking about any wonders that may or may not have been performed. What I will focus on instead is the side story to the botchedness of it all, and that’s the supportive family and friends.


Here’s the tea. We all are, or were botched at some point and in someway, meaning that something we thought was going to go right went wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy wrong. We may carry our signs and scars on the outside like the people in the episode I watched, or we may carry them internally, which can often be worse. The worse of the worse is to carry our wounds, lumps, bruises, disfigurements, ill-adjustments, sags, bags, mistakes, hazards, “you (you, not you’re) a mess” and all that other stuff on the inside and/or outside, and to be alone while doing it. There was a beautiful underlying story to the gory that was “Botched”. A colorful array of family and friends who obviously had been there through the botched days were there front and center to celebrate the better that was ahead. Tears, cheers, (and yes, a few cocktails and beers) were paired with genuine, visible, overwhelming support and joy, which must have meant the world to that not-to-be-named reality starlet and the other subject featured on the show.


So, I’ve decided, if we must be botched we shouldn’t be by ourselves. We all deserve a “go along group” to be there on the front-lines and with back-up support in the times of jackedupness and certainly in the times of joy.


Exit So You Can Re-Enter

#TBT post:)

Life Gets Better

Today I had the privilege of returning to one of my former jobs, ABC 33/40 to do an interview. I’ve been there many times since my departure in 1999 to do PR interviews and promote things with which I was involved. Today, for some reason as I greeted old friends and shook hands with new people who also understand the connection of this little thing called media I realized an important fact. It’s so important to wrap things up the right way.


As a feisty 27-year-old back in 1999 I had no idea where my career path would lead and certainly didn’t know, or want to know if it would often lead me back to places I’d already been. As a young, naïve little lady I actually paid no mind to the possibility of the notion called “full circle”. With that said, when I quit ABC 33/40 in June of ’99…

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I Did Not Sign Up to Fly Solo

I’m reposting this post to hopefully help those who are still grappling with the pains of divorce whether it’s been two weeks, two months or 20 years. Be encouraged!

Life Gets Better

Divorce can be like a flight. You sign up for two round trip tickets, get everything in order for the journey, pay all the necessary fees (i.e. an expensive wedding), plan your adventure together, go through the hoops of boarding, take off, make it to the first leg of the excursion, then one party takes it upon himself or herself to jump midair, or cause you to have to flee before reaching the final destination. What the world?!?!?


One of the toughest parts of divorce, for me, was dealing with the fact that the rest of my life could possibly be spent solo. I did not sign up to fly solo!!!

Having gone through several “this clearly is not the one for you, nor are you the one for him” dating relationships, entering one that finally lead to marriage, one that I thought would be forever and ever amen, realizing…

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Whistle. Whistle. Tweet. Tweet.

You know you have flourishing self-esteem when you whisk your head around to say “thank you” after hearing what you think are whistles only to find out it’s actually real, live birds just doing their job of tweeting in trees. (I promise you, those birds sounded so “fake”. I just knew they were humans…LOL!) Not to be one easily swayed by the whistle, hiss the, occasional “Hey Girl” or my all-time favorite from the University of Alabama Quad…”Hey, Ms. Lady”, I did want to be polite to whomever I thought was using that age-old method of complimenting and at least wanted to smile in my best southern way and say “thanks”.


I laughed, really hard at myself after this experience. I laughed even harder when I shared this with a friend who almost choked laughing then begged me not to repeat this story. Of course I did choose to repeat it, hence the purpose of this post. There was a time when I would never have assumed a whistle was coming my way. Now, let me be honest and clear, those times were rare, as my parents did an excellent job of instilling in us to the best of their ability as we received it the importance of healthy self-esteem. However, bouts with life sometimes deal a tough blow which can taint even the most perfect balance of esteem and humility.

There have been times when I would have kept on walking either with my head down (not in a good way) or my head up (in an even worse way) after hearing the fake, yet really real whistles because I thought I was too tall, too thin, too big, not dressed my best, or even too good to be admired by the type of person who has the audacity to whistle from a street (those were the days when the “stay humble” struggle was real for your girl). So as I hopped down 3rd Avenue North in Birmingham, Alabama in my Old Navy deal of the week with an orthopedic boot on my foot and wind-blown hair that had to be rewashed later that day because I failed to condition it and it showed, nothing in me said that for whom the whistle whistled wasn’t me. I knew it was.


So many times we let life tell us who we are, how we are and what should be expected. I expected the whistles to be from an admirer because that’s what I expected. Simple and plain. I dare you to expect. Expect the best. Expect to be admired. Expect to be appreciated. Expect to be valued. Expect to be recognized, all in the purest place of humility, of course. Expecting is scary sometimes. I know. It’s disappointing sometimes too. I’d even go so far as to say that expecting is risky. but I know the other side of the flipping coin and let me tell you, having expectation is better than having none at all.  In my mind, the fact that God saw fit to even let the birds of they were tweeting) is just the icing on the cake, cherry on top, food for fodder, a post to post about and laughter for days. carl