The Most Septembering September

It's been a long while since I wrote one of these kinds of whew, Lawd pieces, but y'all...

I knew September was going to be a busy month, but I had no idea just how hectic and insane it would be. So today, I am sitting here surveying the damage in gratitude that I am still here to live and tell the story. My goal in sharing this is not to elicit pity (since I know some of you are thinking, well you DO call yourself the Busy Black Woman). It is simply to exhale and brace myself, because the rest of the year isn't really trying to let up. 

Come to think of it, this summer was just as hectic. I can't even begin to tell you how it feels like we time warped from May to October in a matter of weeks and all of it is a dang blur. Like, did I celebrate Mother's Day this year? I do recall Memorial Day weekend (because that is a story like you would not believe), but after that, what happened? Did I do anything significant this summer except for buy my Kid a pair of tap shoes for two weeks of camp? And does she even know where those shoes are, or will I find them when it is time to put away the Christmas tree in February?

Y'all where does the time go? How did I go from driving to North Carolina in the middle of August to it being Halloween in a few weeks? Where are we having Thanksgiving dinner? Are we getting together as a family this year after these past couple of years staying socially distant? There have been three babies born in my family since the panini, but I am unsure of their actual ages because one of them might have actually been born before the panini and I just don't remember. He is probably 5, but just short for his age.

Speaking of short, all of the leggings in my child's wardrobe, even the ones I just bought her in August.

Because several of my friends have been over-sharing details about their hot flashes, I am now paranoid about having them and I am not okay. The other day all I did was walk upstairs to my daughter's dance class, but when I got to the door it felt like I had entered the 5th ring of hell, and it took everything in me not to burst into tears (or flames). Like WHAT??? It lasted for about 3 minutes, but worse, I conveniently had a fan in my purse that no one thought was at all strange. 

That same day, I mislaid a pen that I had just been using and this caused an absolute meltdown. I put myself in time-out by staying inside the car by myself because no, I didn't feel the need to explain to the Hub how I needed that pen, and not some generic rollerball that he'd been chewing on. This man has been married to me for almost 21 years and I swear there are days when If You Don't Know Me By Now blares in my brain. For the most part, it's the Simply Red version, which means that I'm willing to shrug it off as not worth the energy, but if it switches to the Teddy Pendergrass version...as of yet, I haven't added the Seal version to my mental playlist. And I just remembered that there is a Patti LaBelle version, but that might be too dangerous.

But back to how this year is practically over and my mind is still stuck on how it was just June last week. It was the last few days of the school year, and I was lamenting to my brother about how the school year had dragged on and then he proposes that I might want to relax with a trip to Disney with my daughter and the Niece at the end of July. That is exactly how it went down--he made this suggestion and the next thing I know, I am standing on line for some Goofy rollercoaster ride. And I swear, I will finally finish writing that piece before I take down the Christmas tree in February.

Before the Disney trip, there was our annual beach vacation to Bethany, DE that I barely remember because I feel like we were there for less than a week. Things felt off because we were there over the July 4th holiday and we were staying in a different rental. Thus, not much excitement, so let's go back a few weeks to that crazy Memorial Day weekend when we inadvertently spent the night in an occupied Air BnB. It took every ounce of self-control not to go full DMX on the host who didn't seem to think it was at all unusual to expect that a FAMILY of 3 might feel slightly uncomfortable staying in an apartment bedroom on an air mattress in Brooklyn!

(Side note, because this is tangentially related to what happened on Memorial Day: I have a whole other piece in my drafts about how we are exactly those parents who have already exposed the Kid to drag queens and the gay agenda, so if you need somebody to judge...)

If you read the previous piece, you know that I saw my college roommate and her darling son last month. The following weekend was my road trip to North Carolina, but what happens in the boonies among friends on a farm in the middle of the night stays there. A week later, I was back-to-school shopping and planning a surprise birthday/anniversary tribute to my parents, not taking note that the date coincided with the weekend of the Classic. But being Thee Busy Black Woman, I declared and decreed that I would make it all work! 

Again, this is not to brag because I was doing laundry the other day and saw clothes that hadn't been washed since Bethany Beach way down at the bottom of the hamper. At least I unpacked the suitcase.

I was talking to my line sister last week about how insane this September has been. Like in the middle of all our life stuff (specifically our children returning to school), the Queen of England dies and now half the state of Florida is under water! Somebody mentioned Mercury being in retrograde, and I don't even want to understand how astrology interacts with real life, but every single time y'all say that it's like that song in Hamilton, The World Turned Upside Down. 

Therefore, to reiterate, I am writing this piece because today it all hit the crescendo. I can't take No More Drama. Family, friends, church, school, advocacy, news...it is all tew murch. I had moments this month when I felt like I should have rolled myself up in a ball, but acting on the advice of Elizabeth Taylor, I poured myself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pulled myself together. I'm not sure that my liver appreciated that level of determination. Maybe next month, I can have a day or two when I won't bother to fake it and push through. Please. Because I can't sit in my car for hours without arousing suspicion of a mental break. I don't have a driveway or a garage, and I'm not a podcaster. 

I'm just a writer who likes to make clever use of all the useless pop culture references that fill her head, so I'm going to take a nap soon, and you can Wake Me Up When September Ends.

Life, Death, and Love in the Time of COVID-19

This hasn't been the best week. I will admit at the outset that I am being overly dramatic and ominous, but I want to be transparent and open with my feelings. From someone who is usually very guarded and cautious with my words, I am just going to come out and say that I am scared, exhausted, overwhelmed, and angry.

If you follow me on Facebook, either as my friend or as a reader of the blog (thank you, btw), this revelation shouldn't be all that shocking. I have been cussing up a storm and have been much crankier than normal on my personal page, whenever I take to that particular soapbox to opine. This week's rant was about the Executive Order to keep meat processing plants open. I read/heard about that the previous evening, but I must have awakened to some fresh realization that the fuckery and chaos wrought by this DESPOTUS just continues on, unchallenged. I keep wondering if the reporters are just there to earn a check, because it is only the rare occasion when some brave soul comes within moments of shouting WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK--REALLY MR. PRESIDENT??!!

Or maybe, that is just me. I stopped watching the briefings, but every now and then, I leave the TV on MSNBC and right on time, that bullshit express comes roaring through...

I don't know if I took time to properly call out the ass-holery of Drs. Oz and Phil yet (so put a pin in that for now), but last week during the middle of the day, I caught a whiff of the FOX News hour hosted by Harris Faulkner. None of that booshay was in the mix as reporters and news readers alike openly questioned the DESPOTUS's bizarre suggestions about UV light and/or chemical cleaners as some kind of miracle fix. Perhaps only in the metaphorical sense is daylight a disinfectant against ignorance since their analysis was consistent with what was being addressed on the other networks. Even Karl Rove made sense in his rational discussion about the role of federalism, states' rights, and social distancing.

Yeah, so with all due respect to the remarks made by Oprah's favorite things...

Donning face masks and maintaining a six-foot wing-span of distance between people aren't attacks on your liberty. You can quote Patrick Henry all you want, but he's dead and I doubt he would compare coronavirus to a tyrannical King George III. You can kill people if you insist on going about uncovered in public. And we got laws against reckless endangerment. So if MC Karl Rove knows that and the anchors at FOX News (who even appeared in a promo that encouraged social distancing) know that, then what is the damn problem? Oh, that's right...Karen needs her haircut.

(Allow me to pivot from the political to the personal by sharing this article I found on emotions based on the movie Inside Out. The graphic helps to illustrate why our emotions appear to be all over the place.)

Personal emotions tend to be more complicated for me to express: I am anxious and scared. Anger is easier for me because that serves a public function. Anxiety and fear are more internal. During this pandemic, I've been guzzling a mixed cocktail of these emotions daily. Add in some lethargy and loneliness, and you've got Busy Black Woman Blue on the rocks (shaken, not stirred).

I'm not the only person who is feeling this way. I heard an NPR story about an increase in the number of calls to mental health hotlines. There was that emergency room doctor who committed suicide. There are folks who were stuck in difficult situations that are now in serious crisis. I'm guessing that for all of the productivity that has kept some people fired up, the depression that engulfs some of us has become much deeper. I haven't reorganized anything. Even people who are immune to stress, like my Dad, are showing signs of strain and weariness. He appears resigned to an inevitability--not that he feels endangered or at risk, but that he's fine with not seeing us if he can keep us safe. And I'm like don't you have that backwards, and wait, you seriously don't miss us??? That is the closest thing to crazy I've ever heard him say.

Ever since our roles reversed years ago, it has been my job to keep them safe, which is the main reason why I haven't forced my way over there. I'm sure that at some point on a necessary outing, I have already been or am at risk at being exposed. And I take into account the fact that I live with a free-range Montessori kid in pre-school--the same child who gave me the flu in March 2019 and skipped around here with no symptoms. I miss them even though my Dad drives me crazy.

So no, it is not an acceptable risk to endanger the lives of my parents because you say so, Ben Shapiro, you heartless fuck.

Now that I'm speaking in angry Black Womanese again, the Ben Shapiros, the Karens, Drs. Quick and Quack, the Troll King, and his Prince of Fails act like getting sick is no big deal since they all have the means to avoid exposure, and then have access to better care as necessary to treat the disease. They have made it clear that the old people dying in nursing homes, the essential food workers and delivery people, and the front-line medical personnel are all expendable. The danger is primarily to people who are out of sight and out of mind. That's why it is perfectly acceptable to allow the Postal Service to fail, to force people off unemployment, and to pit states against each other Gladiator-style for medical equipment.

Thus, the Kid has been in this house and this is where she'll stay until the coast is clear. In an ironic twist, her Over-Protective Papi seems to think that summer camp is a go, so I am trying to keep the peace by not going full Clare Huxtable in asking if he drank any Presidential bleach. Sure it would be nice to send her to camp; I could use a break from these daily homeschooling tantrums. I was the stay-at-home parent for three years before she went to school, so I will endure a few more months of upheaval as long as you keep my wine subscription going, homie. I can find other uses for the money you would have spent on those summer vacation plans because we're not going to be at anybody's beach house either. You had your beach vacation in February.

If I knew how to edit gifs, this would say STAY home.

Am I being irrational? Maybe. Oh ye of little faith? Yeah, you can quote Bible verses to me from six feet away while wearing a mask. Foolhardiness is not an ordained ministry.

Furthermore, I don't have the emotional bandwidth or the mental space sufficient to handle the illness or potential death of a relative or loved one from a virus that seems to be situated in the places where we all live. I am unprepared to deal with ramifications of having someone I know contract this disease from some careless asymptomatic Becky on the beach. I am not willing to allow my child to be a test case for social distancing pre-schoolers.

I have had enough tragedy shared on my timeline. In some form or another, I have been in mourning since this year began, and it is all too much. Enough that the death of an actor is just as difficult for me to process as the death of a family friend, the news of both revealed on the same day. Neither were COVID related, but at this point, does it matter, especially when there is no meaningful way to say goodbye?

And then finally, I am going way beyond my comfort zone in sharing that Busy Black Women get weary and lonely too. It would be nice if I didn't feel like the world assumed that I can do fine all by myself. I wish I could get some encouragement, some emotional support, some reassurance that I am on the right path. That what I do has value on some level. After years of uncertainty, I know that writing is my calling and that this isn't a frivolous hobby. I think about that a lot as folks are enjoying live dee-jays, live music, TED talks, book readings, tutorials, and virtual gallery tours on social media. What am I doing in this pandemic, I ask myself as I finish off another playlist that gets a few clicks or a piece that gets read by a handful of people. I know to encourage myself, even if no one shows up, but I will be honest and admit that it can be hard to stay motivated. It has been this way for years; yet, I know art is never a wasted endeavor. It has value. It brings joy.

This is the joy I contribute to this bleak world. It may not be much bigger than the light from a candle in the dark, but this is my light.

This is America

This started as a statement of annoyance on the Facebook page, but then I added visuals and started using big words and...

Monticello (2019)

I saw this post on Twitter and my initial response was to allude to my recent visit to Monticello, where the updated house tour now includes a more in-depth discussion of slavery. Then I went searching through my new phone to find the pictures that I just took there of the Hemings' slave cabin and the Big House. Then I started on a rant about why these images need to be seen together, regardless of your ethnicity because, for goodness sake, YOU WERE VISITING A DAMN PLANTATION!!!

Then I started on another paragraph about the many trinkets and artifacts that get preserved at those homes for display and how no one ever seems to wonder how those items are kept in such pristine condition considering the people who lived in the house didn't do much work. Maybe the lady of the house kept her trousseau organized--hand washed and ironed her own linen tablecloths and embroidered napkins. Maybe she polished her own silver brushes and handheld mirrors, then carefully wrapped them in tissue paper before storing them in velvet-lined boxes. Maybe she endured the heat of the sun to tend to the antique rose bushes, camellias, and hibiscus. Or perhaps that was the job of her husband, who also rose early every morning to tend to his vast acreage of cotton/sugar/rice/tobacco, which he planted, picked, and prepared for sale all by himself, dressed impeccably in a perfectly antebellum seer sucker or white linen suit.

For example, it is fair to argue that no one goes to Versailles to learn about the people who worked there, so why should anyone care about the people employed on southern plantations? Of course, Versailles is a beautiful palace museum, a showcase to the excesses of the French Monarchy, and we know this because once the servants got tired of going hungry while serving cake, enleves leur têtes!

Hemings' Cabin (2019)

But again, what does that have to do with visitors to an historic plantation home somewhere in the American South where once upon a time, people were enslaved? Why should you care that Miss Anne compelled her half-sister to serve as her chamber maid? Or that Master Tom worked his own son, whose mother was the head cook (upon whom he forced himself in the hidden places at night after everyone else was asleep), as his coachman? Who wants to hear about all of that depressing shit while on vacation? How dare they make you think about other people's suffering?

After all, your grandparents came to America years after all of that happened via a 'legal' immigration system that excluded Chinese immigrants, for example. Black people were already emancipated, so your Sicilian/German ancestors didn't own any slaves. Instead, they worked hard at those jobs in the industrial North and Midwest in factories, building trades, and shipyards (where the Blacks who had escaped Southern peonage could only secure work as janitors, cooks, and manual laborers). Your ancestors were allowed to fight to defend their adopted country, while Black and American Indian soldiers languished in segregated units or were barred from joining the unions. While it is tragic and unforgivable that 11,000 Germans and less than 2,000 Italians were interned during World War II; between 110,000 and 120,000 Japanese-Americans (note the hyphen, because many were naturalized citizens) were interned on the US mainland and in Hawaii. After the War, your ancestors took advantage of the GI Bill and moved to suburbs like Levittown, NY and Clybourne Park, IL, while we faced restrictive covenants and redlining.

But by all means, do not allow these pesky facts to ruin your visit to Tara, Twelve Oaks, Nottoway or whatever other plantation you visit during your stay. (Update: I've learned that your Yelp complaint was posted about McLeod Plantation in South Carolina...did you even look at the brochure?) I'm sure that the little old ladies in lace white gloves who maintain these historic homes would rather host an upcoming wedding/vow renewal, prom, debutante ball, etc., than answer hard questions. For decades, they didn't want to talk about the slavery either because their side lost that war, so instead they regaled visitors with alternative tall tales like Gone With the Wind. That's a far more interesting saga than say...the story of why Hattie McDaniel couldn't attend the premiere of the very film that won her an Oscar.

Guess what, we (the Blacks, Native Americans, Latinos, Asian Pacific Islanders) are tired too. We're tired of insisting that our stories are as valid and as important and as significant as others. We're frustrated that the history of slavery and segregation in this country are considered optional, as if racism was no big deal. Because an understanding of slavery makes it a lot harder to ignore the Trail of Tears, the role of Chinese railroad workers in westward expansion, the Bracero Program and migrant farmwork, Hawaii, and the immigration raids in Mississippi. Understanding our history in this country is acknowledging that it is all American History--including how your Sicilian and German ancestors were similarly victimized.

Dispatches from Disney - Wednesday and Friday

On Thanksgiving, after we sat through one of the shortest timeshare presentations on record, after mofongo and pernil at a local Puerto Rican spot, and after I had spent about an hour or so working on my first post-Disney recap, we headed out for dinner. And by the time we finished with that, took the Kid to dance off her Thanksgiving burger at Disney Springs, and then returned to the resort, I was too tired to finish writing all of my assorted gripes about our first venture to see the Mouse.

(So I will give you an out right now. If you are looking to read a heart-warming account of our wonderful and magical trip to Disney World with three generations of happy, grateful people, you can go back to watching whatever sticky sweet powdered sugar-covered holiday movie currently airing on the Hallmark channel with Candace Cameron Bure. I've got none of that for you here.)

I have posted the pics to the Busy Black Woman Facebook and Instagram pages in case you are interested. As is always the case with what gets shared on social media, those are the good pictures of us having a good time. Here, because I see no need to offer any pretensions, is the postmortem of our #BusyBlkFamTrip:

1. Tiring. It was the equivalent of a military exercise that required about 20 pounds of gear and rations for half a day at the amusement park. So by the time we made it to our destination, watched one parade, and then stood in line for one attraction, it was time to feed and maneuver the troops to another park. And by the time we arrived just on time to see the closing fireworks, I was so very cranky and salty and disappointed by all of that effort. Only to wash, rinse, and repeat all of that for a second excursion on Friday minus my parents (we brought them back to another park later that evening). I am still sore and exhausted.

2. Expensive. So I knew this from the outset, but when I tell you that it is easily an entire month of salary just to get into the park, I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. The happiest place on earth is also the most costly entertainment racket on the planet. There is no cheap way to do Disney, which means that you are going to pay one way or the other. Our punishment was that early morning timeshare presentation, which saved us $150 (even though they authorized nearly $600 extra on my credit card to ensure that we would show up). Yeah.

3. Time-consuming. Disney is most proficient at creating the illusion that they are efficient. This same illusion is also effective at building anticipation for rides and attractions that last two minutes, at most. We stood in line for 45 minutes to ride the Pirates of the Caribbean, and during that wait, I attempted to use our Fast Passes to schedule other attractions, which only worked time-wise for us once. By the time we made our way from Adventureland to Fantasyland to ride in the Tea Cups for 90 seconds, we thought that maybe we would have time to ride something else before making our way to the castle for the parade. Wrong. EVERY attraction had a 65 minute wait or the Fast Pass options were unavailable. Even the Dumbo ride. And the parade, which was scheduled to start at 2pm, began at 2:20. So by the time we left the park, caught the monorail, found the car, drove back to the hotel, ate mofongo leftovers for lunch, gathered my parents, returned to visit a different park, found a parking space, and made our way to the entrance, it was dark outside. And everybody stops pretending to be happy once the sun goes down.

4. Expensive. Yes, I know I addressed that previously, but let's revisit that topic for a moment. Because these folks really know how to make people want a lot of unnecessary isht like this and this. And these headbands that practically everybody was wearing. All of the cheaper/generic trinkets like tee shirts, postcards, and keychains were sold elsewhere in stores off-property like Walmart and at these tourist trap superstores that function like outlets where you could buy authentic outdated merchandise at half-price. Or, you could just buy whatever you want from your local Disney store at your local mall and save a month's salary.

5. Inadequate. Which is why going to Disney is a lot like eating potato chips. You can't go just once. You will never see everything in one trip, even if you get the park hopper passes and spread your visits out over several days. We made it to three of the four parks, but didn't get to see much at Epcot or the Animal Kingdom. We rode three rides at the Magic Kingdom in two visits. Obviously, we could call it done and let the Kid get back to Disney on her own because there is no rule of parenting that requires multiple trips. I was in law school the first time I went to Disney World with the Hub when we were first dating. I went again ten years later while in Orlando for a sorority convention. In all honesty, I had a lot more fun going there without the pressure of having to create memories.

6. Artificial. Judge me for feeling manipulated by aspects of this experience. Judge me for complaining about the admission cost. Judge me for recognizing the elaborate con of building excitement by having each transition point to the park spaced to draw out the experience of 'arrival'. Judge me for not wanting to buy stuff after disembarking from a ride, especially when said ride lets me out inside of an appropriately-themed gift shop. Judge me for refusing to stand in line to take pictures with furries. Judge me for my frustration with the Kid for still not wanting to wear that damn Uma Halloween costume.

Go on and judge me, because God-willing I would do it all over again. Not because of the memories that I'm pretty sure my Kid won't form because she is three. Not because my parents were good sports and paid for half of this trip. Not because the Hub has the patience of Job. And not even because this Busy Black Woman now believes conquering Disney is her great white whale. I would do it all over again because life is short and imperfect, and sometimes even pretend magic can produce real joy.

Dispatches from Disney - Monday

I had the bright idea to take a family trip to Disney World for Thanksgiving this year. Then I got the bright idea to blog about it...because how else can I scream at the top of my lungs and expect that someone will actually hear me?

Exactly.

I promise not to provide too many gory details, but this hasn't unfolded as I had hoped. It has been a mix of the usual insanity and nonsense, with the unfulfilled promise of a cherry on top. I remember what I was thinking when I concocted this wonderful idea, but I can't even imagine how I expected for things not to be as ridiculous as they have been (and it is only Monday just after midnight). It is really hard to have high hopes and expectations dashed by the harshness of reality. Children catch colds unexpectedly. Parents who aren't all that mobile at home are even less so on vacation. Husbands that drive you insane in normal life just find new ways to be annoying away from home. A trip to Disney costs the equivalent of at least month of bills, and somehow it didn't occur to me that we would be spending all of this money a month before Christmas...

But in spite of everything that has gone wrong so far, there have been little fireflies of light swirling around me. My child got a taste of the Disney magic this evening, and it was so exciting and overwhelming for her that I'm not the least bit angry that she made me take her to the bathroom no less than four times in a half hour span of time. My Dad was super psyched that he had his favorite take out Chinese food dinner at a restaurant owned by an Iron Chef. My Mom, over whom I have fretted endlessly for three days, suddenly got very stubborn this evening...and while that frustrated the hell out of me in the moment, it reminds me that she is still with me (even when she is at her most difficult). And the weather here in Florida has been absolutely gorgeous.

I still win the Busy Black Woman Anal Retentive yes-I-plan-for-everything-because-no-one-else-ever-does Award for this trip because even when I do mess up, forget things, and get overwhelmed, I still manage to manage. Yes, that might mean that I will miss part of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on Thursday morning because we will be stuck in yet another useless timeshare presentation that definitely will not last for only 120 minutes. But we will get to see the Mouse with Grandma and Granddaddy because dammit, that was what I envisioned! My parents haven't been on a vacation since 2012, and they need to spend quality time with their grandchildren. For all of the various challenges, there will be some great memories captured (or some funny stories to share).


We're here.

September Summer

I was in denial the week after July 4th when I started seeing back to school displays going up at my local Target, but now those are slowly making way for Halloween displays. Which means the summer is pretty much over and I don't have much to show for it.

No tan lines to take forever to fade away like in years past. No memories from summer barbecues to reminisce about with the friends who were there with me (and who witnessed the same crazy). No summer concerts down on the Mall. No drive-in movies or even a full outdoor movie that we didn't have to leave halfway through because of rain. No backyard barbecues or pool time.

But I did manage to lose a little weight in spite of my broken promise to participate in a workout group. I did get a glimpse of what my day could be like for a few hours without a toddler running around. I did get to see a movie at the theater, including the opening previews. I sat and watched my daughter run after fireflies (and inadvertently kill a few because she squeezed them too hard).

This summer is almost a wrap. We will have one quick beach weekend soon so that I can pretend to get a tan. I might blow up that discount pool that I got from Target so that the kid and I can have a few pool days in the backyard. I might get her cousin so that we can take a drive out to see the wild horses, and then maybe we might spend the evening at one of those dinky amusement park/carnivals. And I might get the chance to go someplace fancy so that I can finally wear one of those cute sundresses that I have been saving for a special occasion.

September comes so fast and then it serves as a reminder that December is also coming. Because alongside those garish Halloween displays of stuff nobody needs, there is a small space saved for Christmas ornaments and lights, which will slowly expand to encompass an entire aisle by the end of the month. And once the entire aisle is devoted to Christmas stuff, it feels like the year continues to speed up and then September becomes that transition month when we remember doing a few remaining summer activities. The month when we lament what we didn't do in July and August.

I know that there are all of these arguments out there for why we need to have our children in school all year and other arguments that summer is kind of a waste considering that most of us don't live on farms, but I miss summer. I miss the idea of slowing down to take in a few activities that don't have a time limit. I miss the pleasure of doing things that can only be done during this time of year, like watching my daughter chase fireflies or run around outside barefoot. Like hanging out with my niece all day with no real idea of what we might do, and then just going for it.

For instance, I am seriously thinking that the girls need to have a lemonade stand next summer for no reason in particular. We can spend all day working on their storefront and then set up the next day right in my front yard. And then sell our homemade concoction for some ridiculously stupid amount of money with no charitable intentions, just for the fun of it. Do kids do that anymore?

Does anybody do anything without any purpose or end game?

I know I'm on a weird nostalgic bend of late, and it could be that I am feeling my age or looking it or just accepting it. I have a toddler who is still very much my baby, but also getting more independent each day. Next year, she should finally be potty-trained(!) and it will be our last carefree summer because she'll be three and that's when we're supposed to jump on the hamster wheel. And the fact I am hesitant to do that is putting me in a state. I am not looking to delay the inevitable, but then again maybe, I am. Because as soon as we have to go to Target in the middle of July with a back to school list of supplies, I suddenly become that Mom who realizes that she has no life.

But then again, I might actually get something done around here. And when September rolls around again, I can declare that this was the summer that I did something.

Busy Black Woman on Vacation

I am currently sitting in a rented house located about half a mile from the beach. The Toddlersaurus and the Hub are napping. I am finally getting over this cough, after having spent nearly three weeks with bronchitis. But I am determined to enjoy this week. I am finally on vacation!

Let's go back a few days to Friday night, when I was on the phone procrastinating as usual before the big trip. I had been doing laundry and packing all day, but I took time to visit my parents and then to chat with my BFF. During the course of our conversation, she mocked me for over-packing. I laughed and agreed that I have been known to pack more than enough of everything for every conceivable vacation worst-case scenario. But that is because the Hub packs nothing except for his own clothes, usually in an oversized bag because he doesn't fold anything...and then he completely underestimates our needs. Anyway, I took my antibiotics and declared how happy I was that it was my last day of treatment. Then I did a little more packing before turning in for the evening.

The next morning, I woke up feeling okay, but not better. Still I soldiered on, finished the laundry, packed our stuff, then I had a sudden sneezing jag and it went downhill from there. We left the city two and a half hours after we intended. I didn't exactly over-pack, but I did empty my fridge of perishables. Yes, I know that we can afford to shop for whatever I forgot, like the correct cough medicine, more cough drops, and probably some whiskey when that OTC crap proves ineffective. And of course we plan to hit the outlets before heading home.

But so what, I am finally on vacation!

We are the only brown people in this neck of the woods, and apparently we never noticed that on our previous trips. I am still picking up after the Hub who drops his clothes wherever. The Toddlersaurus has been extra hyped. She is not even close to being potty trained (in fact, she might be regressing) which probably explains that unfortunate poopie incident on the beach.

But I don't care! I am on vacation!

I am still coughing. And taking cough medicine...and drinking alcohol! I still have Father's Day cards that I brought with me to mail, but haven't. I also have a check in my wallet that I should have delivered before I left home. I spent an entire evening binging on reruns of Star Trek Voyager. I am out of shape but I wore a bikini anyway.

Maybe I do over-pack, but so does every other mother who takes a beach vacation trip (yeah, I've embraced the change). Apparently that rechargeable pump for the inflatable pool was a good idea. So was that sunscreen in a spray can, since husbands are like children when it comes to reapplication and treating the resulting sunburn. And yes, I plan to get another ginormous designer Mom bag from one of the outlets. I might even get something else for myself since the next time I'll get the opportunity will be at Christmas.

I haven't gotten through half of the wine I brought along, but no worries, I am on vacation!!!

You Need a Break!

(Note, I began writing this in November.  It has been edited and updated to reflect the passage of time :)

So a whole three-four-five months after the fact, I wanted to write a public service announcement of sorts to extoll the virtues of doing absosmurfly nothing (or as little as possible)...

If you recall, the Busy Black Woman endured more than a few trials and tribulations this summer, so in an effort to refocus, I declared that I would spend the month of September resetting my life in order to finish the year in a better space.  Well, the result of that effort was comme ci comme ça (for the reasons you can read about in the Reset Journal or here).

Now it is the end of January 2012...and reflecting back on the time spent on the beach last October, I am ever so grateful for the chance to get away for I know that I will not always have the luxury of a tropical vacation (update: except for the fact that I will be headed back to PR in just a few months, sometimes God blesses you and I ain't complaining!)  Given that some folks believe that not even the President is entitled to a few days off, the next best thing is to figure out how to best to chillax in the midst of chaos.  So how does one take a break from it all with the current state of the economy and the precariousness of living from paycheck to paycheck?

For starters, it begins with breathing.  Now that I have returned to yoga class, I am reminded that there is peace to be found in five minutes of deep breathing.  And then there is sleep.  Sure, there is plenty of advice out there to suggest that the most successful people regard sleep as a waste of time, but they lie--witness how the dire need for sleep killed Michael Jackson and Heath Ledger.  And every now and then, it is a good idea to disconnect from the inter-connectedness of the world via cell phone, laptop or tablet/e-reader. 

And then what?  Well, nothing.

Because even if you cannot afford to go anywhere, you need to take a break.  You need to sit still.  You need a time out.  Your friends and loved ones and coworkers and those random people driving in the car next to you on the highway need you to be sane.  I am offering this as both advice to you and as a reminder to myself because I had a moment yesterday.  And it just so happens that as I had been plotting a return to blogging and just happened to check in just for a quick looksie, I found this post and knew right away why I needed to post it.

More to come, stay tuned...

Busy and Broke, Pt. 3

Can you believe I have more to say?  This is one of those instances where an idea that started as something very simple blossomed into something much bigger...so for the first time ever on the BBW blog, we have a three-part article!  In the words of the great Jim Carrey in The Mask, "somebody stop me!"

(Too late, now this will be a periodic feature to be called B-Cubes for busy and broke on a budget :)

In this latest installment, here is a list of day/weekend trips one can take outside of the city.  Because come August after you've seen the monuments, visited the museums, been eaten alive by far too many mosquitos at the outdoor events, and eaten at every place where you could snag a reservation during Restaurant Week, you are going to be sick of DC.  And no one will be here because Congress will probably be on recess and the rest of the DC natives will be at a family reunion somewhere down south.

So of course there is plenty to do and see outside of our fair city, but you'll have to check back later for an exhaustive overview of the many sights and sounds that await you in Hyattsville, MD or Gaithersburg, MD or even in Annandale, VA.  Nevertheless, I will share a few quick thoughts about some the other excursions that are affordable and enjoyable.

The BBW Unplugged

Edited 4-24 from my computer (the original was posted from the phone)

It has been a few weeks since my last post...and a lot has happened in the life of this BBW.  When first posted, I was checking in from my phone while on vacation in Los Angeles, so this post has been edited from its original publication (without proper capitalization and punctuation, which was very annoying).

I checked in because I am not all that good at completely disengaging.  Per the request of the husband, I reluctantly left the laptop at home (and of course he was wrong about me having free computer access at the hotel since nothing much is free anymore), but thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I was able to fire off a few random thoughts here, on twitter, and on my FB page from my Smartphone.  (I have also read a few emails, so I guess that means my vacation excuse won't really work.)

In leaving the laptop behind, there are a few important discoveries I've made about my dependence on technology.  The first, I can live without lugging a laptop around if I can get a tablet as an alternative (hint, hint).  Second, smartphones, while very convenient, are not capable of replacing larger devices (this post was shorter because of screen size and other limitations).  Third, we might need to invest in a GPS device.  Fourth, I can never go back to the world I inhabited just three years ago (although three years ago, I had my laptop, so maybe I need to go back six years when all we had was a paper map and Frommers to guide us through foreign locales)...connectivity on demand is as essential as packing a toothbrush.

Fifth, if only technology could really predict the weather, the BBW would not have spent a week in Southern California with a wardrobe better suited for Miami.