Mercy & Mascara

So last Sunday in my Pastor's sermon he paralleled our spiritual walk/life/growth with that of a garden or a field, using the Wheat/Tares scripture passage as a reference point. (Matt 13 if you need reference). He spoke about the Bible being a Weed Killer for us. I have been faced since I moved back home with about 10 separate, quite similar opportunities to worry and I have taken FULL advantage of these. I pray, I worry. I pray, I worry. It is a nasty cycle. I say, "God, I trust you." Then, literal moments later, I let my mind go to a negative place where I am expecting the worst, seeing death, and not trusting God. The mind is SUCH  a battlefield. So all this post is, is a few scriptures for me (and you, 1.5 readers) to go back to when WORRY tries to take hold. I'm going to "smoke" (kill--hello!) the tares (or weeds) of worry in my life.

Set them aflame with the Word.

There is no more effective way to pray than to REMIND GOD of HIS WORD. There is no more effective way to receive and maintain deliverance than to consume, repeat, study, meditate, dig, dig, dig into the Word.

I'm not doing web searches for these scriptures. I am simply putting them up as they come up in my spirit. That's what's so crazy. The Weed Killer (smoker) I need is already in me. I just need to use it!!!

- Proverbs 18:10 - The name of the Lord is a Strong Tower. The Righteous run into it and they are safe (Refuge)

- Psalm 17:8 - KEEP me as the apple of your eye (would God allow the apple of his eye harm/hurt/worry/loneliness/abandonment? NO! Never!) Hide me under the shadow of your wings (Protection)

- Psalm 91 The Whole thing but a focus on verse 11. - For He will give His angels charge over thee. -  I have KNOWN this verse since I was very small and I believed it. I believed it to the point where if I happened to be walking and my SHOE hit a BRICK and I didn't bust my face I would thank God for keeping me from cracking my skull. (FAITH!)

-  Isaiah 40:31 - They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint (Restoration; Strength)

- Psalm 37:25 - I was young and now I am old; yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread. (Providence.)
Ephesians 6:13-17 - The Whole Armor of God. (Divine protection; readiness for battle; preparedness)

0 Comments -- 7 Views

There are few words to describe my brother that wouldn't run all the prim and proper Christian folk away from my blog. KIDDING!!!! I Love my brother with a capital L. We are 8 years apart. I am 28, you do the math. Without my brother, I wouldn't be an auntie, would not have the love of my nieces and nephews and would not have experienced some of the most fanatical, radical, extreme-word-ical ministry of my life. And I would not have an unction to pray for gang bangers, and the like. I don't know if I could find emptiness in people so easily and know what to pray for.  My brother's personality has given me a higher level of discernment in some places I NEVER would have been willing to go for myself otherwise.

My brother captures people with himself--or rather the anointing that God has put in him. He is blessed with something that I can quickly sense in others. It's a gift. He is evangelistic. He draws people with ease and then points them to God. It's great. He challenges standards of church-established and not word-established hierarchy. He investigates and unlocks and dissects and digests the Bible like it is the Soul's sustenance which, hey, it is.

Lately, Bruh has been getting on my nerves because he fudged and removed all of the songs from his iPod. He's been bugging me to put the songs back on there and getting the brush off to be honest.

I had another one of "those" nights last night. I could not sleep so I stayed live tili sleep came to me. Tonight, I sucker punch sleep and drag it back to my dungeon to have my way with it. That's unrelated and random. Sorry.

I did eventually put some songs back on my brother's ipod and whaddaya know, Israel's new Power of One was one of the albums that I replaced. Some of it. I was tired. So, he comes into my room this morning and his iPod is BLASTING and he's like "Who sings this?" it was Israel's You Found Me.

He told me he spent the night listening to the song on his front porch playing air guitar, attracting attention from people in his neighborhood who thought the song was smashing good fun and jolly old fancy words that people who live where we live never use. They liked it. Some of them thought he had finally snapped. LOL.

My brother is IN the faith. He's been used and thrown around the faith and while he still loves God he's just not going to conform on certain things. Naturally me--church girl--wants him in church every Sunday. Front row. Shoutin shoes and a haircut. Suit on and a raggedy bible tucked into his armpit. Is it going to happen? NOPE! That's not him. He comes when he can with his hair looking like "can't you comb it and don't you try," in blue jeans and boots. But he's in the House, thank God!

In my novel-in-progress, there is a moment that slightly parallels how I felt when he came in impressed with that song.

My main character has been fighting some unseen element for her husband's attention. It's high school with grown ups. He works around beautiful women. He's been staying out late and he recently told her she should wear more girly stuff. She's questioned him on it--what wife wouldn't?--but to no avail. And really Amadi isn't that smart or sneaky. One morning after she has exhausted herself with the whole thing, he springs a surprise breakfast. She doesn't know what to think.

Take a peek in the pink.

Okay. Was he trying to poison me? Or had I turned the tables this quickly? The ball was in my court. I ran upstairs, showered, put on my good nylons and a cream pencil skirt over my almost-hips. I wore a bulky knit sweater over it and boots that came to the knee. I had to give it to myself. Your girl looked good.

This makeup thing was going to take some getting used to. If it’s how he liked his mistress, maybe I needed to dress things up a bit. Maybe I needed to fight for my little piece of the motherland. I went extra on the blush, simple clear gloss on the lips, Eyeliner so I looked like a China doll. When I reentered the kitchen, he wasted juice all over the counter and floor at the sight of me, didn’t even realize his socks were dotted with OJ.

Score.

“Wow. Cadence. Baby.”

Bam. Triple word score, sucka.

She had him. That's how I felt. I had no intention on trapping my brother with Israel's music. I put the album on the iPod for my sister-in-law. He's more of a gospel rap person...reggae and hip hop. Not Contemporary Gospel. But he got got. Ha!

My siblings are amazing. They are probably some of the easiest people to be around in my family. Usually. If anyone wants to improve upon their prayer life...ask God for siblings *OR* you can borrow mine. They'll keep you in God's face. Probably asking "whyyyyyy? WHY me?!" Ha. Kidding!

Call your siblings and tell them they're adopted.

Kidding again.

Seriously, search for those moments where God winks at you. Like, "I still got this, kid." Let him be God. It's so much more fun that way.

0 Comments -- 8 Views

I had a veddy inteddesting experience the other day. By veddy inteddesting I mean hilarious. I was at a friend's house who has a 2 year old and she has (amazingly!) learned her colors. I noticed when she got a red pen from her mother's work desk and opened a notebook to the carpet and scribbled one thousand lines in a handful of clusters. "Orange!" she declared. "Haha! Orange!"

Well, the pen was red but the HUE was orange, sure. I twisted my head like some curious pup. Surely, she wasn't identifying colors already...right? Her mother was working on a project for me so while mommy worked, we talked and tried to keep the bambina out of trouble. Sort of. At one point, I rolled up my sleeves in the warmness of the office and the child came to me and grabbed my wrist. "Brown?" Every adult in the room gazed downward, our eyes cast to the spunky small girl. Innocence rampant in her, knowledge sprouting, curiosity swirling beneath a head of blonde, straight tresses. "Brown?" she asked again. She dragged her gentle fingertips across my wrist time and time again. I laughed. It wasn't coming off. And so it was "brown!" she said, only now she was defining it for us. Declaring her discovery. "Brown!" Her mother had to laugh too. "Yeah, she's brown, Ava," her mom said. Then, she saw my sweatshirt bunched above my wrist and said, "Black? Black!" and it was.

We had a good laugh. Because inside this crazy, mixed up world (peace to Snoop) where there is so much hatred they categorize the stuff (self-hatred, sexism, racism, body-hate, low self esteem, jealousy (or hating), and you KNOW the list goes on) there's this glimmer of purity and blindness that came to me as absolutely beautiful. And because of her family, I know she will be taught love as a direct result of being taught GOD.

Ava has always known I was in some way different than the people she lives with daily. When she was one and in a stage where every shirt needed lifting, she peeked down my v-neck shirt, looked at me, and then took another gander, this time with intent and demand in her eyes. She swept her gaze to her mom's chest as if to say one of these is not like the other. I went on to explain that while mine were a little baked, they were perfectly fine for use. LOL

Her mother once told me that at a point, she didn't even want to have a child. "Why would I bring an innocent child into this world the way it is?" she asked her husband. His answer wasn't "I want a baby." or "I want a family; you know, the American dream." but he said, "If we don't have children, how will others ever know about Jesus?" My heart breaks for more families like THAT one, who love God, who love Jesus, and who don't use something as flaky--pun intended--as skin to fuel the outrageous prejudices in the world. And whose goal is to forward the cause of Christ for another generation. It is rare.

How many people do we know who "end up" pregnant? Or who want babies for income tax breaks. Or to have someone who "looks" like them, or even to have someone to pick up insurance policy residuals or paint the picture of the "American dream". How many families have the vision to see beyond themselves? It is so rare and now it's one of the things I know to seek for my future. A family FOR and OF God. I had to repent for my own selfish thought. I wanted a kid who looks like me. I think I'm gorgeous. I wanted a kid because I love children and I'd have one of my very own for 18+ years if God willed it. But it rarely crossed my mind to consider having a child with the PRIMARY goal of seeing the Gospel preached to another generation. It broke something in me.

I thank God for them. And I thank God for the laugh!

Prov. 17:22 - "Laugh, dude. It's good for you!"

2 Comments -- 10 Views

I felt my chest tighten in the frozen foods section. It had been years since my last asthma attack but the recent cold snaps after rain had me pulling out the humidifier nights. I found my mother grumbling over the 7-cent difference between store brand versus name brand. Did she have to make this a battle? Pick up the Green Giant, you small witch. Two church members were approaching. Jeez, did they do anything apart from one another? And I could have sworn they lived far enough on the other side of town where we didn’t have to shop, pay bills, or sit in traffic with these people.

“Well, Sister Glenda, we see you’re in the valley of decision.”

Mama straightened her back from digging in the veggie trough that was breathing white air. For a minute, I fantasized it coming alive, biting her in half. Eating the half with her mouth and leaving the other end whole. Her Cole Haans were hot and my size. “Sister Monroe. Sister Lambert. How are you ladies?”

Mom laughed. We didn’t witness that much. It was a red-faced laugh. A Caught with my cursed backside in the air kind of laugh and the preceding smile went fast. She punched me in the breasts with the bag of peas. “I need three more of these.” I went to the task in slow-mo. I picked up whatever had a picture of spheres on the front. All Green Giant. Yo ho ho.

“Service was awesome Sunday. The Lord know He moved.” Church speak for we’re not firing your husband this month. That one was Lambert. She could pray for an aneurysm all I cared. She slithered to one side of mama. “Hey, Miriam. How you, baby?”

I bricked the bags into the basket with word gravity. “Perfect. And. Your. Self?”

“Blessed of the Lord.”

There was a signal at True Light for me where the older women would measure their skirt length to indicate that mine was too short. Tug on their lapels to indicate that I needed to. Little things they thought I didn’t notice. But I was in a big, expensive, private high school and signal was the name of the game.

“Glad to see you covered up.”

Drill. Shove your hands into your pockets. Don’t say a word. Restraint. Respect.

Too bad. Restraint and respect was aisle 4 and we were on like aisle 590. Retribution. “Covered what up?”

“Covered yourself,” she blinked and put her hand between two fat rolls to indicate a waist. Keep wishing, thickness.

“Well, if you don’t like it, don’t look.”

“Miriam. Sister Lambert, that is inappropriate and if you have a problem with my child, you need to come to me, not snip at her.”

The other one spoke up. “We apologize, First Lady. Really. No harm intended.” Her eyelids lifted at Lambert. Lambert’s lids lifted at me. Was she challenging me? And I was the kid here?

What had it been, elementary school since I’d had a fight? Unless squabbles with Adler counted.

Mama talked into her shoulder. “Crisco, spaghetti, tea, Miriam. Go. Now. GO. So I can get home and cook.” I started past the women. Mama said something else to them and Unsister Lambert persisted.

My cell phone buzzed. 1. What did he want?

“Sunday, she was overboard. My husband don’t see that much of me.”

Mama promised to look into my wardrobe and left the women.

As she carted past me, she gave me that look. I texted One.

With mom. Call later.

0 Comments -- 10 Views

I was reflecting today on my relationship with God. It's a roller coaster, I confess. I mean, I am consistent in my churchgoing, my tithe giving, my gospel music community supporting. I'm a church girl. It might even be safe to say I am programmed to do those things.

I was talking today to God about my relationship with Him and He wouldn't talk back. So I just loved on Him. Told Him how awesome He is, how I know I could never say enough to His wonder. Why don't I have more moments like that? Eventually, I stopped worshipping and started listing things I wanted to do. For my career. For my finances. For my family. You know the list.  "Do it, daughter." He said plainly.

I believe God speaks audibly. Where I can hear it with my ears. Literally. Still, small voice that sounds like me. That's the voice of God. The Bible says in John that God's children know his voice. I test my mother many times. In a room full of mothers, I can call her and she will know it is me calling. She can have her back to me and 50 other people can be talking. And she knows me out of the crowd. I have watched her locate my voice, in a room full of people calling for their mother. She knows me. It's funny because the other moms don't look around trying to find me out because I'm not their child.

Mama knows when I am about to get sick and when I'm sick, she knows what to give me. "Take this to dry that up. Take this and lie down. Soup is for this. Orange juice for that."

Why do we listen to voices that are not God? It's a dangerous place to be. God speaks through other people (earlier this yr I had a car accident after my father and I had a 1 minute discussion about the dangers of renting a car), His creation (the animals and pets we love, weather, clouds, the wind...He uses them to warn us, to comfort us, etc), "gut" feelings (ever been somewhere and "something" told you to leave?), one's conscious. All of these things, even people who say they do not acknowledge His existence, they have these nudges and feelings.

Earlier this year, I stopped at a strip mall to grab just a few things out of a store. I parked my car and upon preparing to get out, I noticed the car next to mine. It was a green SUV, facing away from the buildings. There were about 4 young boys in the car and they looked to be school age. The car's windows were tinted. Immediately, my sensors went up. Like something isn't right. So, I made it very clear to LOCK the doors to my car. I went inside the store. While in the line, the little girl who was with a woman behind me told her mother she wanted to get lip gloss. My sensors went up again, but this time because I'm a makeup fiend. I made the decision right then to go next door to the hair store and find me some lip gloss too. LOL.

Anyhoo, I checked out, went next door to the hair store and the owner fell outside the doors screaming and in tears. The boys in the SUV? Had robbed her, and every customer inside the store and had sped away. Broad daylight.

The voice of God is powerful. Please listen.

0 Comments -- 2 Views

Took me a while to get this up.

MY boy...Israel Houghton released a solo album earlier this year. I bought it. It sat in my iTunes. I opened the wrapper, smelled it. Put it back. I had stalked it while it was being made on YouTube.

Then, my computer went down and I lost it. Got it back soon after that.

That's really no excuse for me. The review took a while because I needed a perspective.

SO, I am writing from the perspective of 1. a worship leader for the past, oh, I don't know, 6, 7 years...and 2. someone who identifies Israel Houghton as a pace setter in the Worship Leading arena who has crossed culture lines, color lines, and who has bent rules, broken rules, and broken chains in even my life by allowing himself to be open to work that oil.

Zero of all, Freddy Rodriquez, BJ Putnam...YES! Do what you do. God is already blessing! Just had to throw that in there!!!

Okay, so Israel is giving me very much TobyMac meets Chris Tomlin meets Todd Agnew in a back alley and decided to do an album.

There are songs on here that I feel like were designed to get Christians...no, to get ANY person through a day. You are Loved, The Power of One, Moving Forward. Someone somewhere said that because of tracks like this, that are global, are not worship-focused. Meh. They're ministry focused tracks. Tracks that perk the ear of people who otherwise might not listen. Compassion, saints. All up in this album.

My favorites:

• Surely Goodness (It reminds me of my sister in law who is from Trinidad as I have said before)
• My Tribute/How Great is Our God. ALWAYS a winner
• I Receive which is a beautiful song. Tearjerker. People like me need songs like this. People who are more internal than not.
• Sing Redemption's Song. Very much Toby Mac.
• Every Prayer with Mary Mary (Featuring Jesus--go hear it if you think I'm lying! It'll take ya INNNN!)

It takes me a while to grasp a lot of his studio albums and I think there's a reason for that.

Well, they are rare, but his live albums, like a concert, draw you in with the excitement of the crowd, the live music, interludes, intros...and you can't do that in a studio unless of course you manufacture it. But I find myself going back to his studio work over and over again. As I said once, Israel Houghton could take a tape recorder, press record, put it in his pocket on a windy day and I would probably buy it, expect the Anointing, and GET it! I believe in what he does for God.

Now, as a worship leader, Israel has been my go-to guy since Friend of God & Trading my Sorrows for bold, contemporary word-based praise and worship that was fun, rocked the church, and put us on our face before God  all at once. There's NOT a lot of that on this album. (But we had a Praise Party off Just Wanna Say a few months ago at my church--fun!) But solo albums when someone has been working with a group tend to unzip the heart of the soloist and distinguish them.

Israel Houghton is a Missionary with a microphone and booked studio time; I'm telling you. You don't see the world and see it from a place of mercy and not want to change the world.

That being said, I miss New Breed! Their music with him just gives me this Thanksgiving Dinner at the table feeling. Unity and Family and Love and Happy. Sha Simpson came out of New Breed and sugar plum when I tell you!!!! She got the 'nurntment. (Anointing + Ointment + Grits) lol She got it!

I hope Israel does more of these solo ventures. I enjoy them!

Check out his website! It's not slow or crashy like a certain myplace I know. Hmph.

4/5 stars from me. Like I know what I'm talking about.

Now if you'll excuse me. It seems I am cooking my ethernet cord with the space heater. Yummeh.

0 Comments -- 14 Views

Lookie what I got.

BAM!!

That's right boys and twirls (which is ALSO an alternate name for the novel I'm writing but nah I don't wanna give too much away), I have done it. I have done it. I have won Nano. I Nano'ed on my wrimo, babay.

I don't even know what that means.

I hit the 50k mark. But now I have to clean up this war zone. The story isn't even finished. I was like 4 pages out of the climax when I hit 50,055. I could probably delete 20,000 of those BS words, and how many times do you have to say: "Never, I will NEVER forgive you!" or "I have told you time and time and time again..." it gets old. YES, I did it a few times. So what?!

That's not the point. I came, I saw, I earned a quite stiff carpal tunnel.

I finished on November 26th, about 5 in the morning. It made me happy. I pasted my little manuscripto into the word verification what have you thingy and my bar went from green to purple.

It said Winner. Italicized. Bammies.

I don't know, one-reader. It has been a while since I accomplished something. At least something that was tangible, and that gave me nifty web bages and .pdfs to throw around until like December 3rd because really, who's going to care after that? I will. December is Get Your Thickness Into Editing Mode Month. Unleash the beast.

I took a break for Thanksgiving to let my wrist rest. I couldn't even help open jars! Now I'd like to round out the story and then get some "community editors" which, I'm sorry, I always go to first to boost my ego before I let someone with more of an industry perspective read for me and let me down.

I love the sound of children playing. Until they say "Yo Mama!"

Today, I go to my friend Margaret's house! She just finished law school and has been working as a lawyer for one full month! That makes me happy. She inspires me to do more. She really does. I don't know if she knows how much I appreciate her persistence in life.

I'm afraid that my "Mercy and Mascara" blog for makeup musings and semi-almost-maybe-a-little-bit devotionals is turning into a blog about writing. What do you think?

0 Comments -- 5 Views

Cadence

“God, I really need new friends!” I prayed under my breath but I didn't mean it. My heart objected. Who else could I call fat and weak and still have them show up in all black everything to help me stakeout my husband? With the exception of Rachel’s neon pink wig, we were doing alright for amateurs.

I watched from the window. There Amadi stood over his printer, pulling off what seemed to be his daily attendance report. I had seen plenty of them at my house, in his car, and in his suitcase.  “Why the hell would you be working late, boy? What’s really real? What are you doing in the day? I don’t get it.”

He was dressed in what he left the house in. He still had on his wedding band. I watched him as he organized, and put the reports in some type of order, and punched holes in them. He filed them away in a 3 ring binder that was thicker than my wrist, shelved it, and then went back to the printer where more papers were being pulled off. So diligent.

I made my way back to the car, and hopped in, greeted with silence from my accomplices.

“He’s working. I feel this big." I held my thumb and index finger half an inch apart.

“I started to leave you, trick.” Sam put the key into the ignition.

“What for?” Sam’s face read that I was unbelievable and likely about to get the cursing of my life. “What? What I do?”

“I think I’m getting a cold,” Rachel mumbled. While she was here in body, her mind was at the nearest plate of chicken strips. Unfed, she was useless. “Should have stayed my butt home.”

Sam shrugged. “You really don’t get yourself. There is no processing time between what happens at your brain and what comes out of your mouth.”

“Ooh.” Rachel sat up and nodded between the front seats. “That’s a good way to put it. She ain’t even lying.”

“And you supposed to be ‘Miss Christian.’ Miss ‘I Love the Lord He Heard My Cry.’ I can’t tell!”

The expletive use of air quotes to describe my relationship with God was starting to get real old. Fast.

“Are you calling me out? Are you calling me a hypocrite?”

“I’m saying you got much talk and not so much walk. If that’s a hypocrite then, hey…”

“Because I was telling you the truth about your weight? You do need to watch the things that you eat!”

Rachel gasped. “Cadence No Middle Name Cunningham, you called the girl fat?”

“Yes, she did!”

“I did not call her fat. She was heaving across that grass, sounding like a linebacker recovering from a play!”

Rachel pointed toward the grass. “That’s a long way to walk, and a lot of muscle to engage, Cay-cay. Y’all looked like Militia at training camp.”

“I’m concerned about her—I’m concerned about your health Samantha. I need my girls. I need y’all around for a long time.”

“Yeah, but it’s how you say stuff. I know people in the streets who don’t know nothing about your God who treat me better sometimes, man. You the one supposed to be different. If you wasn't my supervisor, I woulda been took you to the parking lot at Providiem.”

Rach snickered in the back seat. Sam concealed her own laughter.

I didn't laugh because I knew the looks that Sam had given me.

Fine. General apology mode activated. “Well, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Rachel prompted.

I sighed and looked at the ceiling of Sam’s Nissan Altima. “I’m sorry for calling you fat. You just superfine.”

“Aaaand?” Rachel pushed.

“And I'm sorry for being so critical.”

“Aaaaand?”

I looked between the two of them. “And for not being a good example of God’s love and light? I don’t know. I’m just sorry!”

“Aaaaand?”

“And if you say aaaaaand one more time, I’m going to knock the Nekot cookies out of you.”

We all laughed and then that quiet strangeness that followed certain apologies came in. I guess they were wondering if I was going to stay true to my word. Shoot, I was wondering if I was going to stay true to my word. Sam and I hugged it out.

“Can we go home now?”

I was satisfied that Amadi’s tricking wasn’t happening at the school. He seemed behind in his work in fact, but I was not convinced that his hands were clean. I would have to think of another way to corner him.

0 Comments -- 13 Views

Pay no attention to the luggage under my eyes! Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain! Pay--no...Oh nuts.

I had me one of "those" sleepless nights last night. Mom had a horrible dream. I was up praying because my godbrother was sending those suicidal texts. Ugh.You know the ones: "I just want 2 say I <3 u and I am sry. I feel so useless. I tryd. *send*

No, don't send. WHAT?! Like that's not something you freakin text! And why text me while I'm at work?! I didn't get it til 4 in the morning! I called him at 4 a.m. because, hey, I wasn't sleeping. Got no answer. I hope he's ok. If he is, he is going to get WORDS today, alright? How YOU dewin'?

Last Nizzle (this mizzle) I also did a Wordle for my Nanomess. I call it a Nanomess but I have actually come to enjoy my story after going back and reading it through and having a few ell oh ellz. Wordles are just kind of big jumbly clouds that let you know the words that you use a great deal. Great editing tool.

Dear self: You shole look good in them jeans.
Oh, also, self, please fix the following hot messes during National-Okay-You-Wrote-50-Thousand-Words-Now-Edit-My-Pretty-Edit Month
(For my slow joes, that's NaOkYoWrFiThWoNoEdMyPrEdMo Dec 1-31)
Nurse? The red pen plz.
1. Use of the word "just" this one just sticks out to me for some reason. I just can't figure out what it is.
2. Like, like has like also like made the list as well.
3. I Know. My father says I'm a smarty pants. SO BE IT, POPS!!
4.Back. Call me back. I'll be back. Turned her back. I know. It's working for nanowrimo, so it stays.

Oh, two points to whoever can guess at least one of my subplots from my Wordle.

Shoutouts to my internal editor who is locked up for the month of November. When you get out, we're going to have a real big block party with loud mursit (music), missing backstory BBQ, misspelled word potato salad, stinky prose baked beans, and a Trampoline.

The Trampoline is for me.

Why do these blog posts only happen on nights that I don't sleep? I'm seeing a pattern.

0 Comments -- 20 Views

I need your help, peepoz. Like, Seriously. I know, I know, when I hit my 4000th tweet I was supposed to give something away. I did give something away. Sage advice: don't cross the freeway. I may plan a bigger giveaway for the new year. 2010 is coming like a freight train with convicts. Chug, baby. Chug.

Okay, I tweeted a promise earlier (yesterday) that I would give an excerpt. I need FULL participation here people so all four (4) of you, tell me if I should INCLUDE or EXCLUDE the action. Right now, the action is excluded.  There is some flashback later with the details. But to leave the poor reader hanging or no?

Cadence

The whole room looked at me, then at Connie Mae.

“This is a closed meeting.”

I looked behind either of my shoulders. “Closed to whom?” and I wanted her to say something smart. Anything.

Connie Mae gave a grandiose display of annoyance, filled with eye aerobics and short breaths. “You know, never mind,” she said. “Rachel, will you pass Sister Cadence a registration packet?”

I sat by Rach, across from Amadi. I wrote on the back of my registration packet.

R U ready for tonight? and slid it to Rachel.

She looked at me, slumped her back and pulled her lips inside her mouth.

What’s wrong? I wrote.

Rach took my pen. I can’t. I won’t have time.

“Why?” I asked her aloud.

She tapped the pen open again. Thomas = family all day.

“I can change his mind,” I whispered. “Come on, Rachel. You have to do this for me.”

Some chick near the head of the table turned to us. “Do you mind?” she asked, then flipped back in her chair. “That woman is so rude.”

I made sure she heard me. “Do I mind what? You act like we’re the only ones having a sidebar in here.”

Rachel shook her head at me, trying to warn me to stillness as Connie Mae had stopped presenting the details of the packet and was staring at us.

“You can finish, Connie Mae.” I glued on a false smile and as soon as I had, she returned one similar. “Yeah, she needs to turn around. Last I checked, we all grown.”

Rachel said nothing, just swirled our notes away in ink marks and kept her head down. I reached to the table’s center and grabbed a water.

The woman was out of her chair in a flash, and she stood over me. “You know, Cadence Cunningham, you have got the right one today,” she said, pointing to the crown of my head.

I coughed. Water and my heart had gone down the wrong pipe. Jesus, be a fence. A literal fence, Lord, nine feet up with barbed wire and an electroshock feature. Protect your child from this wildebeest in a lace front catastrophe. I was a buck thirty soaking wet and she was an unfed zoo animal. I could not fight.

0 Comments -- 5 Views