Yeah- it’s happening again.
I keep having dreams about dead people and babies. Well again I’ve had two dreams about deceased individuals (paternal grandmother and one unknown woman). In both cases the bodies moved. In the latter- she actually got out of the casket and danced. o_0 WHAT.THE.HELL?
The last time I had dreams about dead people I also had dreams about babies – either at the same time or within a few days of each other. In the dream where my paternal grandmother appeared, one of my mother’s cousins walked up to me and told me I was pregnant – she said that I was carrying a girl. In another dream Mike and I were shopping for furniture and ended up with bundles of fish and we kept going back for more. Shortly thereafter, several family members announced that at least 7 babies were being born in 2012.
Well…..who’s pregnant? I know of two people….who else?
Now on to Write it Down Make It Happen. All I have to say is read the book. I’m too full right now to get into it. But I will say- “Let Go & Let God” and read the book.
Remember his name.
Remember his face.
Remember that he died on my birthday- February 26th.
Remember that a senseless murder took place – because he was BLACK.
Remember that a senseless murder took place – because he was BLACK & WEARING A HOODIE.
Remember that a senseless murder took place and that a BLACK BOY WEARING A HOODIE WITH A BAG OF SKITTLES in his hand was the victim.
Remember that a senseless murder took place and that A BLACK BOY WEARING A HOODIE WALKING HOME WAS THE VICTIM AND COULD HAVE BEEN MY SON EVAN. HE COULD HAVE BEEN YOUR SON. HE COULD HAVE BEEN YOUR FRIEND.
Remember that a senseless murder took place and two parents had to bury their son much too soon.
Remember his name. Trayvon Martin.
His murderer, George Zimmerman, has not been arrested. His murderer was carrying a 9mm and Trayvon was carrying a bag of skittles- walking home from the store in the rain WEARING A HOODIE.
Remember his name- TRAYVON MARTIN, 17 YR OLD BLACK MALE. He doesn’t get the chance to reach the age to legally carry a weapon or to vote. He was killed by George Zimmerman.
Trayvon Martin- Remember his name. Demand justice.
So I’m following the lead of some of my other friends who have blogs and posting pictures of my kid asleep anywhere other than his bed. Well I didn’t have any but I did stumble upon this from many years ago…
Check out the others at
My husband’s father passed today. It was rather sudden. I don’t believe the shock has hit him yet.
I’m in SC and he’s currently in TN-535 miles away with the family.
What do you say to a spouse who has just lost a parent, especially when you are hundreds of miles away?
RIP “Pops”- In his words, “I love you and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
So we’re barely a week into this month and it’s maddening in the sense that a lot is changing:
- My father-in-law is currently in critical condition on life support. The hubby is there (hometown) by his side.
- The kid is quadrupling my grocery bill. Somebody come and get him please.
- My work life is draining me mentally and physically. Something has to give – and SOON.
- My feelings towards one particular relative are changing- and not necessarily in a good way. I can’t quite put my finger on the reason why so I’m keeping my distance from her as much as possible.
- I’m going to go green/raw for breakfast for the next 30 days. Pray for me o_0
- I colored my hair this weekend- Cherrywood.
Change is good. Right?
Yesterday when I retrieved the mail there was an envelope in the stack which immediately stood out. It was cute and quaint with a butterfly and floral theme all over it. I opened it and pulled out a note card which repeated the butterfly and floral theme. I opened the card and to my surprise there was a gift inside. It wasn’t a gift card to Macy’s, a picture of a family member, or a winning lottery ticket. Instead there was something more valuable than any of those things. It was a handwritten note from my aunt.
In this age of technology with instant messaging, text messages, Facebook and twitter she could have just as easily sent a message without going through the extra steps of penning an actual letter. I truly appreciate the effort and the fact that she took the time to send a personal note expressing her regrets for not being able to attend our housewarming next month. That in and of itself is a gift because her card will go in our treasure box as a piece of our family history.
Think about it. When was the last time you actually WROTE A LETTER? I am not talking about creating a “note” on Facebook, or even in my case creating a blog post and hitting PUBLISH for the world to view. I can’t recall the last time I actually put pen to paper and sent my thoughts and feelings to another human being. Those nasty “I’m pissed off at you, get your shit straight, leave me alone because I want to be selfish” letters that angry wives leave on the dresser for their husbands don’t count. So you can also scratch that off of your list (just like I did).
Her letter not only was her true personal regrets expressed on paper but it was also a reminder of my grandmother. Her penmanship was almost identical to her mother’s, my late grandmother. That is probably what struck me the most and now I will forever have that piece of my aunt in my possession. I am planning to scan it to the laptop tomorrow 🙂
So with that I have an idea for our housewarming party next month. I want each of our family members present to write a personal note to one member of our household and one to one other family member in attendance. They don’t have to be a long drawn out soliloquy (LOL) but a line – shoot, two words will do as long as it’s not a text message, email, IM, or Facebook post. Why am I doing this? We need to do a better job of communicating with each other and staying connected in spite of the technology which makes it possible. You see a handwritten note from one person to another is a way for a person to share on more intimate level their thoughts directly with one individual – not with all of cyberspace.
I’m looking forward to staying connected.
A diva who has a soft side.