Rain Dance

It was one of those days: You know, those once in a blue moon 24-hour Murphy’s Law Days completely dedicated to fighting the elements.

My white flag was waved when I arrived at my evening gig soaked to the bone, bra and all. I still don’t know whether to blame my missing umbrella, my genius decision to simply walk to the mall rather than wait an extra 10 minutes for the next shuttle, or the rain men who saw fit to start a monsoon-worthy downpour when I was literally smack, dab and in the middle of nowhere with no place for shelter.

Little Things

I woke up this morning at 5, surprised to find myself curled up on the couch in the living room.  Yesterday’s 10 -5 shift at the mall and an evening gig covering a local arts event had taken its toll. Around 10 p.m., I entered the warm house, ate and collapsed to the tune of “Stepping to the Bad Side” from DreamGirls lulling in the background.

Day of the Afterthoughts

This year, Father’s Day and Juneteenth fell on the same date. Coincidence? I think not. Synching the holidays celebrating the emancipation of Texas slaves and dads across the nation is quite fitting. Both holidays celebrate history’s forgotten.

Cakes and Caskets

Amidst fluttering paper fans and strumming organ chords, I couldn’t help but notice the absence of green in the sanctuary’s St. Patrick’s Day crowd.

Pearl Harbor Baby

Happy birthday to meeeee!  Today, December 7th, I celebrate 23 years of crazy, beautiful life.

A date when I’ll pop champagne, eat cake and have the whole world  at my feet.

Ok, so, realistically, most of today will be spent working with clients who could care less.