Here comes my town car!

You know Mr. Sandman, right? The one who, supposedly sits sweetly above you and sprinkles sand over you, so you can have some vivid,  dreams and sleep soundly like a baby.
I don’t.
I’ve always been told about him. Basically ever since I was a child. Yet, I’ve never been told about Ms. Sandman. I don’t think she exists. I say this because I haven’t been sleeping well. So if these legends were true, then she would come, then lean on my bed and do the same.

My ritual if you will…..
Right before I go to bed, my eyes get so heavy and you would think that would mean, I am sound asleep. But I am NOT!

Lately when I try to sleep my old lover pops into my dreams. Its the same as in real life. He’ll show up, be extremely connected to me for about two and a half hours, chatting, laughing at my dumb jokes and then he leaves. We don’t interact much. I’d like to more, him, not so much. It reminded of the movie, Moonstruck starring Cher, Olympia, John Mahoney and Nicholas Cage. Apparently I am on a first name basis with these folks.
Cher’s mom played by Olympia says, ” Do you love him Loretta?”
I love him awful, Cher says.
Olympia says, that’s not good.

That right there is one of my favorite lines in the movie.

Back to Mr. Sandman.
This one wasn’t any different. He came over and we were eating food from Cafe Turk. They make the juiciest succulent lamb to die for next to rice full of unique spices with raisins. It was heaven. The only difference was I was living in a high rise like the one in Asia. It was bland on the outside with 33 floors and one elevator that reeked of cigarettes. He, let’s call him.

He had just finished making love to me and jumped up abruptly and said, “here comes my town car”.

My eyes slowly open. My stomach is crampy from either loss, excitement or sadness.

In the end it doesn’t matter.
The dreams come, uncontrollable, waiting, lurking and on Easter Sunday no less. Today it should be of sweet bunnies jumping, pink and lavender dresses. Me, being surrounded by solid dark chocolate Godiva bunnies..
So….Ms. Sandman, tonight, we’ll have the one above. No town cars.
No him.

Dear Pearl

I’ve never met you but I loved your youngest daughter. She was an amazing woman. Not just because she was my grandmother, but because it was who she was. She was a Christian yet believed everything she read in the National Enquire. I’ve said this before. If you’ve read my blog sorry for the recap.

When I was younger I stayed with her for a few days in upstate NY in a big, old colonial style house with my sibs. I don’t recall much except it was white and if I didn’t eat all of my dinner, I had to have pot roast with potatoes for breakfast the next day.

I love rules. Of course as a child I’d bitch and moan but in the end she knew what was best. Most Nana’s do.

As I got older. I loved many aspects of being the youngest grand daughter. The first being, I was spoiled rotten. The second being HAPPY HOUR with them exactly at 4pm until the records stopped or Murder She Wrote came on.

I started to get very close to my grandparents when I turned 19. I think this was partially because I moved to LA to attend college and they lived more than two hours outside of the city. They watched over me. Family is family.

When I turned 21, that’s when the fun began. I was invited to join happy hour. This included my Grandparents and cousin B. The spread included round, plastic plates with three different sections. One was filled with cheese balls, then BBQ chips and finally pretzels. They weren’t the opening act that was a vodka cranberry with lime that took thirty minutes for my Bampy to make. He did so carefully after he checked my ID.

Pearl, I wonder if you had HAPPY HOUR too! You created a fun loving, energetic woman who loved her husband til the end. You did good. Pearl, if you were extremely education then you did well.

Kisses,
A

Dear Ethel

Have you ever woken up feeling, happy?  No, no, not the usual boring happy, its sunny out, I can’t wait to start my day. Or even, I am on vacation and it’s my day off happy. Lastly, I got paid, I am happy! I mean…..different. Wofting into your own existence. Wait? Is that a word? At peace if you will.

You feel free, relaxed, exposed to the world. Well not really. People, I am NOT that important. To my family and friends, yes. But probably not to you.

Do you remember a time when you used to be or act differently? When I used to get out of relationships in my youth. There is a series of events that would take place.

I would first hate them. Yes, yes, I am aware that word is terrible. I would throw all of their stuff out. I then would erase them from my mind. It’s like, I am in a Terry McMillan novel, lighting a car on fire. It’s just a metaphor. That girl be crazy!

I think the worst of it was driving over an old lovers things in my old Nissan sentra. Settle down folks! This was in college. Maybe, maybe, I put an old lover on a bus back to Poland from London. Or doing the old, “it’s not me it’s you, speech. Or its me NOT you.

We’re friends on Facebook and you know you do the same. Well, the polish one and sentra one. Ah…the twenties!!!

Good times!
Twenty something peeps, listen up!
Do me a favor, do NOT complain about your body, because you look AMAZING!

With a recent EX now three months out, I feel happy. Not that we’re not together but that I no longer carry the expectations that I once had. I hope he stays in my life…forever..

I still miss him, want to be in contact with him, want his approval, love to be in the same room with him, love the smell of him and still respect him. To be honest, I FEEL safer with him in this world.

Ethel, have you ever had this feeling? I don’t have animosity. I just want to move forward and focus on joy. Laughter.

Be grateful to each day.

Ethel, can I have my free Snapple , now?

Dear Bernice

Forgive me father for I have sinned. It’s been twenty years since my last confession. Just kidding. I am not even Catholic. Bernice is a fictional character I made up. Think about an old, angry woman in a nursing home who kicks off because she was served strawberry jello instead of her butterscotch pudding with cool whip!

But for the sake of this blog you are a more modern Dear Abbey if you will. Full of wit and hostile sarcasm.
So….

Dear Bernice,
I am obsessed with running. When I SAY that, it appears like I am. I want to again. I buy books on how to lose weight running, run faster, train for a marathon and stress free running. One of my favorite purchases is buying running gear mainly tanks with slogans on them, like run, rest,  repeat and you’re getting stronger. Maybe I LOVE these positive affirmations so much because I am working with being on my own after a break up.

My ex used to come over in his running gear. He’d wear a politically correct t-shirt about fighting cancer or a picture of a cute relative celebrating some holiday. Shorts over black tights and a baseball cap to shield the sun. At the time, it annoyed me. But now when I look back it was cute. Sexy if you will. He’d be all sweaty. Come in. Shower Make love then leave. It was ravishing to feel such a strong body.

Does he still run? I don’t know. I am not privy to the day to day. Which kills me, I miss being in the know.
I hear you slapping me Bernice.
Back to you. I love reading runners world magazine. They recently started putting more beautiful African American women on the cover. I recently read a blog called, Fat girl running. Settle down folks, that’s its name.

I signed up for a half in June. I see myself as this tone, glistening woman finishing the race with a body by tae boe, biking and yoga.

But Bernice how can I make this 48 year old body do it. Thoughts Bernice.

Thinking of chocolate,
Rita

An affair to remember

Strangely enough after almost a decade of being with a married man. I have no regrets. Some might say that’s bad. But I don’t think it is. We are no longer a couple so I feel fine to discuss it.

The relationship was good and bad but mostly good. That sounds so juvenile typed out in clear view. Regrets about being with a married man. No way! Regrets of not doing more for sure.

Road trips
Camping
Picnics
BBQs
Outside concerts
Rowing or canoeing
Skiing even though I am black and we don’t do that. It’s a very expensive sport!
Dancing
On an airplane
In a cabin
Swimming in the ocean
And finally a pie eating contest.

Just kidding. My lover was/is sporty. Fit, courageous but…..not up for a few of the items above.

More deets to come. I am sure someone is out there who was or is or knows someone in similar situation.

I am the girl

I am the girl you can count on.
The girl who helps you move.
Picks you up from the airport.
The girl who buys you flowers.
The girl who makes you laugh when you are sad.
The girl who you can call in the middle of the night, to cry, scream, yell, be there, for you.
The one who will find you… if you go missing.
The girl who you can trust with your kids.
The one who loves you, for you.
Loyal
True
That girl.