As you know, I could go on...
But this is a quickie:
When you go to order your cell phone service, get the insurance. Please.
Yes, I know it seems like a luxury at the time, especially if thrift is your divine gift. But believe me, you will be better off in the long run.
Remember: you will be paying for peace of mind.
OK?
Now...
Have a great day!
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Hair/Beef (Go Oprah! Iss Ya Berf Dae!)
Yesterday was not only a gloomy Sunday, it was downright hair brutal.
Yeah, sure when it’s 79 degrees with a light breeze, The Beauty Shop—and thus the world-- is full of hardcore afrocentric Divas talking Angela Davis this and Erykah Badu that and how follicular chemical warfare is just another way the man is tryin to keep a good woman feelin bad about her divine nappy birthright... and to mention a wig is to invite a fight worthy of John Hope Franklin.
Until the clouds begin to gather, that is.
Honey, please. By the time a late Saturday storm forecast has scrawled halfway across Kim Parker’s classic hot orange open toed patent leather platform shoes, them Divas have jumped into their Lex-i (plural of Lexus) and gone.
“Did I just read something about rain?!? Girl, I got to go. I think I left my oxtails in the oven. Um…you know I don’t cook on Sunday, right?”
Even those Divas (such as yours truly), who are still doin the Bus Stop, begin to get their shampooer’s tip and their bus fare together at the first sight of a green tree turned white. It’s as if even Mother Nature herself is telling us to talk to the hand. Rough times, I tell ya, rough times!
And as much as DivaCardista truly loves her natural hair, there are times like yesterday that would make any Diva distraught: sittin up in the temple, trying to pray without the distraction of knowing my so called light and breezy tresses were damp yet straight on the bottom and infinitely curly at the root. Just too many variations on a theme to even discuss.
I thought I had it licked, y’all. I really did. Especially since I’d been using Organic Root Stimulator as recommended by my hairdresser and Fantasia IC, as recommended by a dermatologist who came and did a hair/skin workshop at church a few months back. And, oh my goodness, you should have seen me when I found a little neighborhood store where they sell the entire Fantasia IC line! You would have thought that little store was selling Jimmy Choos by the pound.
Anyhoo, like many of you, I had the drill down: Fertilizing Temple Balm each night because my temples were showing and not growing, and Fantasia IC hair polisher to make everything shiny and new. (They had me at “aloe”). And yet, as great as those products are, they are still no match for Ma Nature when she wants to show out. Child, all that intermittent mist and rain and steam and drizzle had me lookin like I was eight years old and momma could either get dressed herself or finish my hair and she chose to leave my hair like it was when I came into the world, because, after all, the cab to take us to church was already downstairs and we didn’t want to be late (again).
Speaking of family & flashbacks...
Yeah, sure when it’s 79 degrees with a light breeze, The Beauty Shop—and thus the world-- is full of hardcore afrocentric Divas talking Angela Davis this and Erykah Badu that and how follicular chemical warfare is just another way the man is tryin to keep a good woman feelin bad about her divine nappy birthright... and to mention a wig is to invite a fight worthy of John Hope Franklin.
Until the clouds begin to gather, that is.
Honey, please. By the time a late Saturday storm forecast has scrawled halfway across Kim Parker’s classic hot orange open toed patent leather platform shoes, them Divas have jumped into their Lex-i (plural of Lexus) and gone.
“Did I just read something about rain?!? Girl, I got to go. I think I left my oxtails in the oven. Um…you know I don’t cook on Sunday, right?”
Even those Divas (such as yours truly), who are still doin the Bus Stop, begin to get their shampooer’s tip and their bus fare together at the first sight of a green tree turned white. It’s as if even Mother Nature herself is telling us to talk to the hand. Rough times, I tell ya, rough times!
And as much as DivaCardista truly loves her natural hair, there are times like yesterday that would make any Diva distraught: sittin up in the temple, trying to pray without the distraction of knowing my so called light and breezy tresses were damp yet straight on the bottom and infinitely curly at the root. Just too many variations on a theme to even discuss.
I thought I had it licked, y’all. I really did. Especially since I’d been using Organic Root Stimulator as recommended by my hairdresser and Fantasia IC, as recommended by a dermatologist who came and did a hair/skin workshop at church a few months back. And, oh my goodness, you should have seen me when I found a little neighborhood store where they sell the entire Fantasia IC line! You would have thought that little store was selling Jimmy Choos by the pound.
Anyhoo, like many of you, I had the drill down: Fertilizing Temple Balm each night because my temples were showing and not growing, and Fantasia IC hair polisher to make everything shiny and new. (They had me at “aloe”). And yet, as great as those products are, they are still no match for Ma Nature when she wants to show out. Child, all that intermittent mist and rain and steam and drizzle had me lookin like I was eight years old and momma could either get dressed herself or finish my hair and she chose to leave my hair like it was when I came into the world, because, after all, the cab to take us to church was already downstairs and we didn’t want to be late (again).
Speaking of family & flashbacks...
When my sister was in town a few weeks back, she mentioned the following to me, we all laughed then dismissed it as pure ridiculousness. And here it is back again today.
Can somebody please tell me:
- Why fiddy n nem got beef with Oprah?
- Why them nouveau riche bling blingin men need Oprah to sit them in her yellow chairs on her stage at this stage in the game to give them the blessing to go on and do what they’ve been doing already & with huge global success?
- And why is this old info mingled in with today’s news as if it is
a) fresh and
b) hard news?
They got beef. Please. Who don’t know that beef don’t scare Oprah? Especially now that she’s rocking that fly little ponytail. You go, Mz. Oprah!
Besides, I would hardly call the soccer mom-looking, 401K-investing, Papagallo/St. John-wearing, bo-curious/melanin-lite, seven sister school alumnae of a certain age which appear to constitute her core audience anywhere near the demographic target fiddy n nem are clearly aimed at. Would you?
Let me calm down before I let this foolishness upset my follicular flow.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Beans on Branches (& I’m Loving It!)
Now y’all know I’m tryin to live right. So two double coupon days ago DivaCardista bought her some double coupon bran cereal. But child, that bowl of so called bran flakes was baptized in & preserved with so much honey, [barley malt and corn] syrup, brown sugar and glycerin (of all things) that I could save it, bag it and give it out to the trick or treaters for Halloween. Got dog! I’m like, where’s the bran? And where’s the demented Battle Creek dentist who designed this here cereal? (Probably at the bank.)
Thank goodness for fresh fruit to serve with it.
Why, you didn’t think I threw my cereal away, did you? Oh, no my dear. Having been raised and influenced by survivors of the Great Depression, I just hook it up with a bunch of good old New Jersey blueberries, half a banana and some plain walnuts. Then I sprinkle this faux bran cereal on top. May as well use it as a condiment, since it pretty much is.
Furthermore, if my dearly departed Daddy knew I was throwing away "good [non-refundable] food", I declare he would come back from The Other Side and burst out crying. And we can't have that, now can we?
If neither the heat nor the calendar hasn't confirmed summers arrival for you, the abundance of wonderfully fresh & delightfully cheap fresh fruit sure should. In the winter or even late spring, you’d go to your green grocer and ask kind sir, do you have any blueberries? And he’d say, yeah. a couple. how many you want? And then he’d get a pair of tweezers and give you three tiny scared lifeless blueberries for four dollars. Now? For three dollars you can just about get as many robust & delightful blueberries as you can cart away. Gotta love summer!
And then there’s watermelon. Lord help me, if I didn’t have as much self control as I do, I would eat this cool red sweet divine lycopene-rich temptation three times a day, three seasons out of the year. Holla if ya feel me!
I’m also loving this arms race between our beloved fast food corporations. Back in the day when water was free and cable was cheesy, who would have dreamed there would one day be something called edamame (aka "beans on branches" or soybeans) sitting up in somebody’s salad at the local Fry and Go? But it sure is nice to see something green just as easy as seeing something greasy at the drive through window.
And a word for the strangers who nuke, fry or serve us food, fast: Let us take a tiny moment to whisper a word of prayer for every mother’s child who has to serve anything today where gravy has to touch and mingle with cheese as a predetermined part of the entre!
May your summer day be full of actual flavor and true delight.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Thank goodness for fresh fruit to serve with it.
Why, you didn’t think I threw my cereal away, did you? Oh, no my dear. Having been raised and influenced by survivors of the Great Depression, I just hook it up with a bunch of good old New Jersey blueberries, half a banana and some plain walnuts. Then I sprinkle this faux bran cereal on top. May as well use it as a condiment, since it pretty much is.
Furthermore, if my dearly departed Daddy knew I was throwing away "good [non-refundable] food", I declare he would come back from The Other Side and burst out crying. And we can't have that, now can we?
If neither the heat nor the calendar hasn't confirmed summers arrival for you, the abundance of wonderfully fresh & delightfully cheap fresh fruit sure should. In the winter or even late spring, you’d go to your green grocer and ask kind sir, do you have any blueberries? And he’d say, yeah. a couple. how many you want? And then he’d get a pair of tweezers and give you three tiny scared lifeless blueberries for four dollars. Now? For three dollars you can just about get as many robust & delightful blueberries as you can cart away. Gotta love summer!
And then there’s watermelon. Lord help me, if I didn’t have as much self control as I do, I would eat this cool red sweet divine lycopene-rich temptation three times a day, three seasons out of the year. Holla if ya feel me!
I’m also loving this arms race between our beloved fast food corporations. Back in the day when water was free and cable was cheesy, who would have dreamed there would one day be something called edamame (aka "beans on branches" or soybeans) sitting up in somebody’s salad at the local Fry and Go? But it sure is nice to see something green just as easy as seeing something greasy at the drive through window.
And a word for the strangers who nuke, fry or serve us food, fast: Let us take a tiny moment to whisper a word of prayer for every mother’s child who has to serve anything today where gravy has to touch and mingle with cheese as a predetermined part of the entre!
May your summer day be full of actual flavor and true delight.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
La La La La Chanze!
At first I was mad. Too mad to even think about it, much less blog. I mean, eleven nominations and only one win? And then I calmed down, got my union newsletter and realized what a coup that one win really was.
The Color Purple, as you know, was nominated for eleven Tony Awards and the one winner was the brilliant and lovely La Chanze, who plays Celie, the role that, in her words, “she was born to play”. Well, evidently the Good Lord agreed because now she’s got a big beautiful Tony to go with her big beautiful voice. And--drumroll please--she beat out none other than long time Divas Patti LuPone and Chita Rivera (not to mention Miss Sutton Foster & Miss Kelli O’Hara) for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical. You go, La Chanze. So talented, so skilled and so deserving.
I remember first seeing her in Once on this Island, a play DivaCardista knows she is supposed to just love so much she could sop it with a biscuit because of its provenance, pedigree, etc, but [shrug shoulders while making New Yorker lukewarm reception face & sound here] it just didn't move me all that much. Howsumever I do remember La Chanze being just wonderful. And now she is even more wonderful. Brava, Diva! Brava!
Well over here where I sit and dream while listening to Sarah Vaughan caress "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" into the most sultry, satiny, gorgeous thing you could ever dare to imagine, only to possibly be outdone by the last sunset of spring, going down all warm salmon mango golden, it has occurred to me that one needs not bake small corn muffins as one would a pork roast.
As I repair to my stove to rescue my dinner, here's hoping for the best summer we've ever had.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
The Color Purple, as you know, was nominated for eleven Tony Awards and the one winner was the brilliant and lovely La Chanze, who plays Celie, the role that, in her words, “she was born to play”. Well, evidently the Good Lord agreed because now she’s got a big beautiful Tony to go with her big beautiful voice. And--drumroll please--she beat out none other than long time Divas Patti LuPone and Chita Rivera (not to mention Miss Sutton Foster & Miss Kelli O’Hara) for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical. You go, La Chanze. So talented, so skilled and so deserving.
I remember first seeing her in Once on this Island, a play DivaCardista knows she is supposed to just love so much she could sop it with a biscuit because of its provenance, pedigree, etc, but [shrug shoulders while making New Yorker lukewarm reception face & sound here] it just didn't move me all that much. Howsumever I do remember La Chanze being just wonderful. And now she is even more wonderful. Brava, Diva! Brava!
Well over here where I sit and dream while listening to Sarah Vaughan caress "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" into the most sultry, satiny, gorgeous thing you could ever dare to imagine, only to possibly be outdone by the last sunset of spring, going down all warm salmon mango golden, it has occurred to me that one needs not bake small corn muffins as one would a pork roast.
As I repair to my stove to rescue my dinner, here's hoping for the best summer we've ever had.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Friday, June 16, 2006
Dust Bunny Massacre
Not that we weren’t having a grand olde time, but…after months of going out to the ballet, the theatre, the cinema; this that and the other out of town rejuvenating/refocusing experience; and…well…Dad’s dying and Mom’s illness; stripping, boxing up and selling the house of my youth; and participating in church life, honey, DivaCardista found herself and her home in quite a situation. A situation and a scandal!
Darling, I woke up one day only to discover all manner of church shoes cast about, stalagmites of design ideas sketched on the backs of “you’ve been pre-approved”-mail everywhere, laundry bags growing in width and girth, bathroom rugs lookin all debatable, a refrigerator that had become the Museum of Food History and a kitchen floor that went crunch. And dust! Chile, dust too plentiful to speak of, just-a clinging to my objets and lampshades from afar. So DivaCardista had to say hold up wait a minute. Took the phone off the hook and took my estate back from grime to glam again. And, after much toil & strategy and chugging much pomegranate juice, I am happy to say on this sunny Friday morning, my house is beginning to feeling all homey and lovely and lemon fresh again.
It has been at least a week since I’ve been out on the town and I am so loving reviving the role of DivaCardista as Happy HausFrau. Truly I love taking my time, taking my little hand held vacuum and getting all up in betwixt, just-a cleanin and-a shinin and getting merry like Christmas. Using all of the vacuum cleaner attachments. Shopping for cleaning supplies like I was expecting Oprah. I really don’t know how them other Divas about town do it. Maybe they have help. Maybe they just up and move every so often. Or maybe they don’t mind living in Dustville, but I sure do.
You should see how fabulous my computer keyboard is now. It’s as if matte could sparkle. Finally got that over the closet door shoe organizer that I had been passing in the store for the last two years (as if $5.99 was way too much to pay for reclaimed emotional space). Laundry bags are now happily deflated. Even got that little cart that fits just behind my bathroom door for all things ablutional. Please. Once I got into the zone, those dust bunnies never stood a chance. As the poet once said “I feel good!”
(And what was initial the catalyst for this cleaning frenzy? The loss of my all too important and yet elusive cell phone. Oy! Another blog for another time.)
In closing, I have one last thought before we dive into this last weekend of spring cleaning. As we ease into the summer months, always remember:
Now let me go so I can get my vacuum and make those pretty designs in my carpet.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Darling, I woke up one day only to discover all manner of church shoes cast about, stalagmites of design ideas sketched on the backs of “you’ve been pre-approved”-mail everywhere, laundry bags growing in width and girth, bathroom rugs lookin all debatable, a refrigerator that had become the Museum of Food History and a kitchen floor that went crunch. And dust! Chile, dust too plentiful to speak of, just-a clinging to my objets and lampshades from afar. So DivaCardista had to say hold up wait a minute. Took the phone off the hook and took my estate back from grime to glam again. And, after much toil & strategy and chugging much pomegranate juice, I am happy to say on this sunny Friday morning, my house is beginning to feeling all homey and lovely and lemon fresh again.
It has been at least a week since I’ve been out on the town and I am so loving reviving the role of DivaCardista as Happy HausFrau. Truly I love taking my time, taking my little hand held vacuum and getting all up in betwixt, just-a cleanin and-a shinin and getting merry like Christmas. Using all of the vacuum cleaner attachments. Shopping for cleaning supplies like I was expecting Oprah. I really don’t know how them other Divas about town do it. Maybe they have help. Maybe they just up and move every so often. Or maybe they don’t mind living in Dustville, but I sure do.
You should see how fabulous my computer keyboard is now. It’s as if matte could sparkle. Finally got that over the closet door shoe organizer that I had been passing in the store for the last two years (as if $5.99 was way too much to pay for reclaimed emotional space). Laundry bags are now happily deflated. Even got that little cart that fits just behind my bathroom door for all things ablutional. Please. Once I got into the zone, those dust bunnies never stood a chance. As the poet once said “I feel good!”
(And what was initial the catalyst for this cleaning frenzy? The loss of my all too important and yet elusive cell phone. Oy! Another blog for another time.)
In closing, I have one last thought before we dive into this last weekend of spring cleaning. As we ease into the summer months, always remember:
Krusty is a clown, not a lifestyle.
Now let me go so I can get my vacuum and make those pretty designs in my carpet.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
mafungo
As Dad's Day is soon upon us, and this will be my first Dad's Day without a Dad living somewhere near Disney busying himself with "not understanding me", thoughts & supernatural vibrations of him have been coming through me. And your Diva doesn't know quite what to do with them except to be gentle with the memories as they flit and scatter themselves like dandelion seeds throughout my day. This is especially poignant because of my new love , where I help folk make beautiful connection with the esteemed people in their lives with whom they wish to share love and joy.
Episodic pain and awkward sadness is still, quite literally, on the drawing board.
DivaCardista's Dad was special. No, not in the Berenstain Bears kind of way, I mean different. He didn’t get the things most [American] [TV] dads got and still, this was the guy that I called Dad. Archie never quizzed Gloria on the top ten Jamaican root vegetables each time they met. Mr. Brady never took Cindy for long rides to pull garbage while extolling the virtues of hard work and thrift. Why me? I just didn’t get him and he certainly didn’t get me, but there we were. Dad and Diva. Diva and Dad. Muddling through.
Mostly, I loved riding with Dad in his red VW rabbit. Especially at Christmas. He would take me way out somewhere in the far reaches of Queens and re-introduce me to the other three West Indians at his job, I would mumble a shy hello and they would marvel at my American accent, good grades, etc. and then back in the car we’d go to see the lights! (Finally!) It was great riding with Dad in that red rabbit. Oh, dad would probably be holding forth on one of his favorite topics, say “compulsory savings!!!” for instance, and I’d be like “yeah Dad…compulsory savings” all the while taking in and marveling at the kaleidoscope of lights and color.
He taught me how to drive and appreciate/dream in color in that car. He taught me how to save money. He taught me a lot of things, including how to read and write. No dad, no blog. No dad, no art. Who knew?
And I think that he would have gotten a real kick out of knowing that mere thoughts of him could be monetized. He would have loved that to pieces.
This goes out to all of us in these next few days as we gently recall the moral poundings of our dear old dads.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Episodic pain and awkward sadness is still, quite literally, on the drawing board.
DivaCardista's Dad was special. No, not in the Berenstain Bears kind of way, I mean different. He didn’t get the things most [American] [TV] dads got and still, this was the guy that I called Dad. Archie never quizzed Gloria on the top ten Jamaican root vegetables each time they met. Mr. Brady never took Cindy for long rides to pull garbage while extolling the virtues of hard work and thrift. Why me? I just didn’t get him and he certainly didn’t get me, but there we were. Dad and Diva. Diva and Dad. Muddling through.
Mostly, I loved riding with Dad in his red VW rabbit. Especially at Christmas. He would take me way out somewhere in the far reaches of Queens and re-introduce me to the other three West Indians at his job, I would mumble a shy hello and they would marvel at my American accent, good grades, etc. and then back in the car we’d go to see the lights! (Finally!) It was great riding with Dad in that red rabbit. Oh, dad would probably be holding forth on one of his favorite topics, say “compulsory savings!!!” for instance, and I’d be like “yeah Dad…compulsory savings” all the while taking in and marveling at the kaleidoscope of lights and color.
He taught me how to drive and appreciate/dream in color in that car. He taught me how to save money. He taught me a lot of things, including how to read and write. No dad, no blog. No dad, no art. Who knew?
And I think that he would have gotten a real kick out of knowing that mere thoughts of him could be monetized. He would have loved that to pieces.
This goes out to all of us in these next few days as we gently recall the moral poundings of our dear old dads.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Friday, June 09, 2006
Lounging at the Waldorf/Slumming on Park Avenue
Can you believe it's Friday? This week went by in the blink of an eye. But since DivaCardista will be enjoying a sprightly salad of Belgian endive featuring calendula whilst encouraging educational uplift (but not separation) at the Waldorf in just about an hour, all is well. What a nice way to end a week. I recommend it!
For the longest I have been wanting to share and thus recommend some great summer reading! So on this sunny morning I get my chance. I just love reading books that remind me what it is to tell a great story and that lovely feeling you get when a great story is being told to you. Nothing like it. For instance:
DivaCardista
For the longest I have been wanting to share and thus recommend some great summer reading! So on this sunny morning I get my chance. I just love reading books that remind me what it is to tell a great story and that lovely feeling you get when a great story is being told to you. Nothing like it. For instance:
- new boy by the wonderful Julian Houston! It's a warm, often funny, poignant and beautifully complex story of a bright young man from the South going to school in the North with the best and the brightest [and, too often, cruelest] of America's wealthiest families during of the infancy of the 1950's struggle for civil rights. It's not so much a coming of age story as it is a coming into manhood and wisdom story of 15 year old Rob Garett finding his way as the first African American at the story's fictional prep school Draper. Believe me, these 282 pages will fly and then you will want to take the journey again.
- A Day Late and a Dollar Short by none other than Ms. Terry McMillan. Now her marital woes have been in the paper (and on Oprah's yellow couch) so much that we can forget her gift to the world: creating characters that are truly multidimensional and, whether in moments of functionality or disfunctionality, warm blooded and fascinatingly human. In this classic, she gives breath and life to each member of a family struggling to become better people and better as members of the matrilineal tribe called Price. Now I know you're saying "Um, DivaCardista? Ma'am? This book is at least five years old. Everybody knows this is a good book. And who doesn't know that Terry can write? Looks like you're...um...a day late and a dollar short." Well, so what. Within the next few weeks folks will be running all across this country and halfway round the globe talkin to skulls and throwing kisses to Shakespeare, and look how old he is? DivaCardista just wants to remind folk of the delightful wonder that is our Terry McMillan.
- i hear a symphony by Ms. Paula L. Woods. What an absolutely beautiful and loving testimony to the historic love African Americans have had for our families, our friends and each other. I mean! And the artwork is not only great but well placed/interpersed within the poems, rare letters, essays and stories of love. Nothing is overlong, but it is all overdue considering DivaCardista could have sworn she just heard somebody's child proclaiming his "love" for a stripper. Not that strippers don't deserve love but Lord have mercy. Somebody send him this book before he goes into the studio again. Might just change his life.
Well it's about time for DivaCardista to fabulatize before she goes to slumming at the W-A.
Be sweet and have a grand day! I know I will. :)
Blessings,DivaCardista
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Leader of the Pack (or Pride's Head Revisited)
Here comes the rain again... But it's all right, since yesterday was sunny and lovely, and the plants seem happy enough.
Mi familia is in town for a minute so that's a good thing. They came in yesterday in all the sunshine and lovliness and missed flying in this spate of June drear and that's even better. They came in to see my ma who is in a nursing home now. She couldn't have been more pleased to see everyone as they began to appear from behind the curtain that establishes the room as a double. Not that her visits with her lil Diva have not been delightful, but to see the room filled with three generations of Cardista women was special indeed.
Sure she still bared the trademark nails of the lioness from time to time, but at least this time they were painted a lovely L'oreal red called "Thrill".
However damp, may you have a thrilling day.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Mi familia is in town for a minute so that's a good thing. They came in yesterday in all the sunshine and lovliness and missed flying in this spate of June drear and that's even better. They came in to see my ma who is in a nursing home now. She couldn't have been more pleased to see everyone as they began to appear from behind the curtain that establishes the room as a double. Not that her visits with her lil Diva have not been delightful, but to see the room filled with three generations of Cardista women was special indeed.
Sure she still bared the trademark nails of the lioness from time to time, but at least this time they were painted a lovely L'oreal red called "Thrill".
However damp, may you have a thrilling day.
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Friday, June 02, 2006
La Diva D'étape D'action! (That's Me!)
It's Friday and I am doing all I can to be relaxed but productive given the amount of this and that necessary for me to do to still be going forward and not living in some kind of happy stasis. I guess one of my concerns is that I am really not some interesting hybrid of Superman and Wonder Woman. Then I could create, travel, putz about the studio and have a clean apartment.
But yesterday I took some truly fabtabulous action steps:
But yesterday I took some truly fabtabulous action steps:
- I got new 2x2s done for my new passaport. Remember how Ricky kept saying it like that to Lucy in that great European vacation series "You've got to have your passaport!"(DivaCardista loves her some Lucy!)
and - I finally got some stuff out of my apartment and sent it to the family down south. And the postal worker that I had was absolutely the best. Not only did he help DivaCardista to choose the best way to get the stuff in the mail, he did all the wrapping for me. Now that's right up there with Man Bites Dog--that's something you don't see every day! Huzzah for the USPS!!
Yeah chile. I had to get that stuff away from my person! You know, because the residence is only so big and it was either me or that late nineteenth century silverware. And, I am happy to report, the big money was on me. Them old salad forks and butter knives used to cost me at least five minutes every time I was trying to leave my house, and where I live, five minutes blossoms into all kinds of missed transportation opportunities and fine friendships made just that much more fragile because of me showing up late with an interesting story as to why. Now, I can flow on without incident.
As for the passaport, honey, DivaCardista is doin all she can to break out to the great white north and dig some Ruth Brown, Tony Bennett and my girl Dee Dee Bridgewater. Especially since I spend a decent amount of my time in the middle of the continent, I feel that every now and again I need to get down with some back bacon and chill with my North American francophoneans digging le jazz hot. Oui?
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Boob Check on the Microphone!
Ever wake up realizing: hey...I haven't made a dime in weeks! (Well, days actually, but the point still stands). Here I am drawing bold and living golden, tellin folk about the imminent blowuptuation of my bizness, all the while eschewing the Paris Hilton lifestyle (not to mention the pornista/debutante herself [or at least as she has happily protrayed in the media]), and the next thing I know I'm living it. (Sans porn.) Dilletanting around town, making book signings & play readings of all my buds, never passing up a passed hors d'oeuvre, yet passing my stationary bike like I don't see it or acting like it's a piece of small talk-worthy sculpture, one. How'd that happen? I dunno exactly, but honey, that was May. As of today, as of this here Lord's day morning, I decided before my online mentor session with my brilliant pal Ally that I would get up and get on the good foot before she put me through the e-shredder for not following up on her last half hour tutorial. You ever have friends like that? They bless your life, inspire you and wear you out all at the same time? But since DivaCardista is always trying to grow a bit greener in every way every day, here I am gettin my blog on before the clock strikes eight. Plus Ally truly has it goin on, so now that I am fairly awake, I'm gettin all happy inside. Good ole Ally.
Had to wake up anyway. Was dreaming of twisters and all manner of storm. And since I don't have a [current] dream b0ok and thus no way of monetizing those cryptic and scary messages from my dream state, I figured I best get on up and get my praise on and a little typistry while I'm at it.
Today started grey but it looks like my church choir is too hype for even the sun to resist. And I'm glad about it. Sunshine suits the first day of June, wouldn't you say?
Oh yes: at least four times a week DivaCardista wakes up with her praise. Should have seen me the day I figured out how to make my CD player my alarm clock as well. Felt like Stephen 'awking, I did.
It's so wonderful to greet June in my right frame of mind and healthy! I used to think old folk were trippin when they'd say things like "be glad you have your health". Please. I was finna marry Eddie Murphy and live in his New Jersey mansion, tell jokes and make us some pretty Murphy babies. Matter of fact, that could been our first daughter's name: Pretty Murphy. Why not? Seems to have done well for the Ricky family as a first name. Why not us Murphys?
But I digress.
Oh, God is greatly to be praised for all things! So much He has brought me through. My lady doctor found a lump in my breast a few weeks ago. Now, DivaCardista had been prayerful & playin it cool but every now and then I'd be "chewin on my fingernails/ nervous", in the words of Oscar Nominee Queen Latifah. But in steps our worthy God working through the specialist to whom my lady doctor referred me. Don't you know that both tests from the NASA Squeezinator 3000 and BoobSweepTV showed nothing except fantastically fibrous breast tissue made right here in the US of A. God Bless America!
Now your pal DivaCardista would be remiss if she didn't encourage you to get your breasts checked! Honey, if your boobs are casting shade on the space bar and lower keys of your keypad or if they are prehaps more petite, if you are a bosomy babe or a gynomastia-having guy, get yourself checked out. Yes, its painful, but only for a few moments. You can do it! You can do it!
Especially now that swim suit season is here. After all, who needs a bikini full of mystery?
Anyhoo...
May the Lord bless you real good this here coatless season!
Blessings,
DivaCardista
Had to wake up anyway. Was dreaming of twisters and all manner of storm. And since I don't have a [current] dream b0ok and thus no way of monetizing those cryptic and scary messages from my dream state, I figured I best get on up and get my praise on and a little typistry while I'm at it.
Today started grey but it looks like my church choir is too hype for even the sun to resist. And I'm glad about it. Sunshine suits the first day of June, wouldn't you say?
Oh yes: at least four times a week DivaCardista wakes up with her praise. Should have seen me the day I figured out how to make my CD player my alarm clock as well. Felt like Stephen 'awking, I did.
It's so wonderful to greet June in my right frame of mind and healthy! I used to think old folk were trippin when they'd say things like "be glad you have your health". Please. I was finna marry Eddie Murphy and live in his New Jersey mansion, tell jokes and make us some pretty Murphy babies. Matter of fact, that could been our first daughter's name: Pretty Murphy. Why not? Seems to have done well for the Ricky family as a first name. Why not us Murphys?
But I digress.
Oh, God is greatly to be praised for all things! So much He has brought me through. My lady doctor found a lump in my breast a few weeks ago. Now, DivaCardista had been prayerful & playin it cool but every now and then I'd be "chewin on my fingernails/ nervous", in the words of Oscar Nominee Queen Latifah. But in steps our worthy God working through the specialist to whom my lady doctor referred me. Don't you know that both tests from the NASA Squeezinator 3000 and BoobSweepTV showed nothing except fantastically fibrous breast tissue made right here in the US of A. God Bless America!
Now your pal DivaCardista would be remiss if she didn't encourage you to get your breasts checked! Honey, if your boobs are casting shade on the space bar and lower keys of your keypad or if they are prehaps more petite, if you are a bosomy babe or a gynomastia-having guy, get yourself checked out. Yes, its painful, but only for a few moments. You can do it! You can do it!
Especially now that swim suit season is here. After all, who needs a bikini full of mystery?
Anyhoo...
May the Lord bless you real good this here coatless season!
Blessings,
DivaCardista
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