I Can’t Do It All: Just venting

Today was an interesting day. So interesting that my car is still (prayerfully) parked in a parking space in Downtown Tampa. I only minimally freaked out, after I couldn’t find my keys. For a back story, I went to a coffee shop in downtown Tampa to work and kill time in between meetings. After leaving and going to my car I realized that my keys were not in my purse. No big deal. I walk back into the coffee shop thinking that I must’ve simply left them on the table. Nope. No such luck. Not on the table. Not by the cash register. Not in my bag which I emptied out in a corner very calmly. Not anywhere on the street. Possibly in the pocket of the homeless guy who asks for change everyday only for me to tell him my stock excuse “I never have cash.”Anyways long story short, my keys weren’t anywhere to be found, Ashley showed up out of some weird stroke of luck, and the vehicle that we’ve been having outfitted for my new business just so happened to be ready for pickup. So I took her car and she ubered over to pick the other one up.

But, back to the weird day or more appropriately, the day that I started saying that I can’t do it all. Without my car which contains all of my work data I could only work on following up on things that I needed to and getting a much needed filling.

Protip: when you decide that you want to be a real live girl and get your nails done with acrylic, you are signing up for upkeep. With what time? IDK either you will 1: Pull it out of your butt. OR 2: Use the new time you’ve been given since you can’t hold onto your car keys like a proper adult. 

After the filling I went to the grocery store to try my new favorite thing that my family hates: Buy precooked food to doctor up at home. Once home with food doctored up and placed in the oven DJ informed me that he didn’t have time to watch the food because he had to take a shower. In my head I saw a very clear image of Homer Simpson choking Bart

200w.gifor at the very least the mother from Everybody Hates Chris slapping the hell out of him, but I didn’t.

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Honestly I’m too busy and too tired to entertain certain things. My idiotic teenager making stupid comments about time and food that he is going to eat? Nah. Not a battle I wanted to win today.

Of course, he ate before AB and I could get into the kitchen and of course, he didn’t like the chicken.  Since I let he and AB in on my little Greenwise Publix Precooked food doctoring up secret they’ve complained about the taste of the food. Neither of them realize that for months at least once a week they’ve been eating this food with zero complaints. Nor do they realize just how fucking hard it is to write, sell books, run the shops, do all of my admin work, build a new business, run the house, cook, spend hours a week working for my BNI chapter, and and and. But when I finally said the thing that I have been thinking for months, that I can’t do it all and still cook, AB tells me that she doesn’t want me to totally stop cooking. She likes my cooking and can’t I at least do it once a week. To which I do not respond with the first thing that pops in to my head which is, How Sway?

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She says.

She says that she has the best wife in the world and I won’t call her a liar. She’s speaking from her own experience. Her wife is graceful and difficult and thoughtful. She’s beautiful and funny in a snarky depressed writer kind of way. She’s supportive and she’s great but she’s not better than my wife. Nope.

My wife is the best wife. She’s funny and smart and driven. She’s supportive and encouraging and most of all she tries. She does things that are out of her comfort zone just to see me smile. That makes her the best wife.

On Things We Should Never Forget

Sundays at the beach:I read articles, blog, and write.

She meets random people who invite her to do Acroyoga. 

I am both astonished at the beauty of life and because today is 9/11, I am also disgustingly aware of my privilege. 

I hope as people change their profile pictures to reflect on how we will Never Forget that they’re not smiling. Idk, there’s something that just doesn’t sit well with my soul every time something terrible happens and the Internet becomes flooded with smiling profile pictures, boobs up, hats cocked, teeth shining with banners across the bottom talking about how they stand with Paris, Syria, New York. 

I reflect on how the same people who can understand that 9/11 should be remembered yearly can get angered about the fact that people of color in this country are still being killed over misdemeanors and demanding (begging) to have fair treatment. (I.E if my brother is accused of a crime please just take him to jail, don’t kill him before her gets to see a judge, and don’t sentence him to a thousand years of prison labor for stealing a swisher sweet.)

Even though We The People are supposed to have the right to a fair trial. And since we don’t Colin, and whoever else should (can) do whatever they can/want to draw attention to the injustices that their people are still facing. I mean isn’t that the purpose of changing your profile pic in solidarity. To draw attention? Or is that something else that’s only reserved for certain people? 

And since I’m on the beach thinking of priviliges that are reserved for certain people I’m reminded that 63 years ago I couldn’t have even come to this beach
I’m reminded of all of the many reasons we still have so much further to go and I hope that we get a lot further a lot faster. And I pray that too many people don’t lose too much to get us there. 

Sundays on the beach. I’m privileged. I watch random men throw my wife around acrobatically. I enjoy the breeze. I listen to Sean sang about how One Man Can Change The  World. And I hope that one man can. Or one woman can. And I hope that they do it soon.

War is Hell.

It’s pretty interesting to me that I have grown big enough cojones to even write this post. Firstly, if you speak any negative feeling about war, people assume that you are putting down the military. Which in America these days seems to be punishable by death. Secondly, I’m not sure how I chose to read two different books in the same week which contained characters whose lives were destroyed by war.

Eye of Vengeance is the story of crime reporter Nick Mullins who is covering the story of a convicted murderer’s assassination. Over the next couple of days other criminals are gunned down in the same manner and Nick soon realizes that each of these people were the subjects of his old in-depth crime stories.

Michael Redman is an ex-cop and former military sniper who draws the distinction between being a swat team member on the police force and having to follow strict rules and regulations before killing someone. While also being a sniper in the military and being directed to kill people without knowing if they committed a crime, pissed off the wrong person, or are just someone’s mother/sister/child who lives on the wrong side of America’s enemy list and is in the right place at the wrong time.

During an interview Redman informs Nick that War is Hell. A quote that he attributes to William Tecumseh Sherman. I rated this book a five, which I very rarely give but this book more than deserved. It made you feel something. I never wanted the “villain” to get caught. I actually felt bad for him. Also anytime a book leads me to do further research it has served its purpose.

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“It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.” William T. Sherman
Deadline by Sandra Brown doesn’t contain this quote in so many words but when a character describes how the person who wrote letters to the families of the deceased members of his squadron, always cheered everyone else up, always stayed positive, and was just a funny well-loved guy; gets to the point where he asks the reporter to meet him on a ridge then proceeds to blow his own brains out, I’d say that the author has definitely just described that war is indeed hell. Of course this book is another five-star rated book.

Because I may get some slack for these reviews let me just say that:

I support our troops. The ones who do their jobs without raping and torturing people. The ones who joined the military out of love for our country, because they wanted to make something of themselves, because they needed the money for school, and for whatever reason they deemed important enough to join. However, I don’t support these wars we keep embarking on. Is there a ship sitting at the port waiting to pillage, plunder, and rape our women either physically or metaphysically? I would support a war on this but with the way the politics game is being played I can’t believe any reason we’re given for going in to someone else’s home and killing their citizens while concurrently screwing up the lives of our citizens.
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A Sunday in August

Eight years ago I met the love of my life. We became really good friends because in my head I was already with the love of my life. Throughout the years Ashley and I would remain friends going on occasional dates to catch up in between whoever was our most recent or current love of our life. Last July she called me and wanted to know if I would date her exclusively. I was excited but I didn’t think it would pan out to be much more than a few dates where we would catch up, enjoy each other’s time, and decide that now wasn’t OUR time; again. We would remain great friends and I would complain to my two best friends how I couldn’t find true love because no one would ever compare to Ashley. She was the ruler that everyone needed to measure up to. Honest to a fault, funny, sexy, and so positive. She made me better.

So much for great expectations and all that jazz. In her head this was our time and I would be her wife. I found out that we were in a relationship in my sleep as she told some guy that I was her partner. Excitement of what this time was for us began to set in. I told to myself OK it’s finally happening, I’m in a relationship with Ashley and life is grand. We move in together, we begin to build a life, and I am as happy as a bee on it’s favorite flower. After a while we begin to discuss marriage and I know that a proposal is coming soon. In fact being the control freak that I am, I have decided that the proposal is going to happen when we go to Italy for vacation.

My best friend and I begin to concoct a plan where I’m going to look perfect the entire time; my nails are going to be perfect, my outfits are going to be perfect, and I will never be without lipgloss. (A girl must always be prepared for the marriage proposal by the true love of her life.) I’m planning with my best friend how to be properly prepared for my proposal while Ashley is planning with my best friend how to throw me the perfect surprise proposal/engagement party.

So much for plans and all that jazz. My hair was perfect; before we spent a day at the beach and any natural haired woman who gets her hair straightened will tell you that the day at the beach is the end of straight hair. My nails were ok but they were far from perfect but this was fine by me really, because all that I had planned for Sunday was Brunch with some of the people from her networking group. So after the beach in go the two strand twists. A twist out is perfect for brunch… I should’ve caught on when she kept asking me what I was doing to my hair, what I was wearing, etc, etc… but I didn’t. As a matter of fact I didn’t even catch on when the people started dancing to OUR songs in front of our table. I totally believed her when she said that they did this often.

I’m glad that I didn’t know, that I wasn’t in control and properly prepared, img_2316that my hair wasn’t perfect, and that I totally would’ve worn a different outfit had I been aware. And I’m glad that it happened on a Sunday in August amongst all of my sneaky friends.

 

Photo Credit: Christy Marie Photography

Video Credit: Rokosz Studios