What Biden's Win Really Means...

Today is my sister's (and my cousin Teri) birthday. On our way home from church we stopped at the store to pick up ingredients to make her a cake. Despite my mother's profound distain for getting out of the car while running errands (usually she makes me go in) she dashed into the grocery store (cause apparently I take forever *eye roll*). She gets back in the car saying "I had a bit of a crazy moment" and proceeds to tell me that she was standing on line, puting all of her items on the belt when she realized my sister (who wasn't with us) had her credit card. Thankfully, she was behind one of those people who apparently has never been in a grocery store before and/or has never paid for anything. Ever. My mother apologized to the cashier as she gathered up her things and put them back in the basket and headed for the door. Halfway to the door, she remembered she had cash that I had just given her. She runs back to the line (where the woman still hasn't figured out how buying food works) and explains that she can buy the things after all. She apologizes again as the cashier hands her back her basket. She starts to go to the back of the line but the woman who should be next (if the woman the cashier is waiting on ever pieces together the enigma of the square piece of plastic in her hand and the doohickey in front of her) insists on mom going ahead of her. "I'm sorry" mom says again accepts the woman's offer. "You are so nice" the woman, finally cracking the purchasing code, freeing them from Supermarket Stump, exclaimed. "Yeah, we've all got to come together" the woman who let mom back in line remarked. "Yeah, the man behind her chimed in, suddenly I feel like we can finally start to heal this country." We can finally start to heal this country. Indeed.

Disney Heels and Pat Shout Outs...Redux

Well, it's finally happened. The. Shoes. Are. Here! By now I hope you aren't thinking 'what shoes?' THE SHOES. Ask Pat, he knows. For those of you just joining us, I've been on a mission to own a pair of ice cream shoes; that is, shoes designed like ice cream cones, sundaes, etc. Why? I'll say it again, they're ice. cream. shoes.. And, courtesy of Sweet Feets Treats on Etsy, they're mine, all mine (insert evil laugh here). They are everything I've dreamed of in every way save one; I can't wear them to Yorktown's final class this Thursday. It's a toy store themed virtual escape room and I've obtained the absolute perfect dress; white with glitter strawberries. Glitter strawberries, people! These shoes would be the perfect complement, except for the fact that I'm stuck in Zoome-ville and the kids wouldn't be able to see them. Ugh, why is life so unfair? (#firstworldproblems). The first thing I did when these shoes arrived was post pics on Instagram...who am I kidding? The first thing I did was prance around my apartment, grinning like the crazy woman I truly am. The second thing I did was post pics o Instagram, which garnered some interesting results; a friend of mine asked where he could get a male version (since the shop owner is happy to customize shoes, I'll include the link again here in the event he's serious about this. Which he should be). But, my favorite response by far was from my cousin Teri who asked if I bought them for Halloween. Oh Teri. You'd think after 30 years you'd know. I didn't buy ice cream shoes for Halloween, I bought them because I'm princess Mar-li. And I really, really needed ice cream shoes.

Falling In Love Again....

One night, last March, this guy suggested we go back to his place. It was St. Patrick's Day and we'd had *a bit to drink.* It was also only our second date and this man was my supervisor.... When we got to his apartment he flipped on the TV. George Went's girth filled the screen. You know, Norm from Cheers. He played the main villian in my favorite episode of Columbo. Which, oddly enough, I spent a portion of our evening talking about. Specifically I described my favorite scene: Norm; a gangster who killed two people (one of whom being his brother), has been lured to a restaurant under the pretense of meeting with Lt. Columbo. Turns out Norm's murderous activities have drawn the ire of another gangster. A more powerful one with much greater resources. Norm sits at a table for hours, trying unsuccessfully to drown his anxiety with scotch and soda (easy on the soda). It becomes increasingy obvious that the meeting is a trap and Norm is in serious trouble.... I stood there, transfixed, as I watched the TV screen. I couldn't believe I was watching the very episode I had described only hours before. I actually accused Graham of somehow facilitating this. A year and a half later, I'm only 90% sure he didn't. Why am I telling you this? Well, aside from the fact that I have nothing better to do than ramble about the randomness of my life (and, apparently Pat has nothing better to do than read it) I was flipping channels the other night and what did I find? You guessed it, Norm! and, just like that, the memory of that night came flooding back. Cheers!

The Curse of Being First

"I'm thinking of moving to Philly." I say casually. "Why??" My sister asks. "It's the only other place I have any experience with." "Experience for what??" she asks incredulously. "Living." She rolls her eyes. "We went to Hershey Park a handful of times. That's not a reason to live somewhere." "It is if I say it is" I say defensively. "You're not going to be here for anything" she says. "What are you talking about?, I ask, Philly's only two hours away." "Exactly, she exclaims, two hours. How are you going to be around for things?" "Um...drive?" "You're not going to drive here for everything Mar-li, and we're certaintly not driving to Philly every five minutes!" Says the person who's trekked to Philly for cheesestakes (insert eyeroll here). And there you have it folks. My life in a nutshell. If I want to do it, there are at least a thousand reasons for me not to. For example; My cousin moved to Florida several years ago. You know what they had to say about it? Congradulations and safe travels. But when I moved to San Francisco? "Oh it's too far." "Why would you move to California?" "It took you three weeks to decide to move to California, how long will it take you to decide to come home?" That particular guilt trip came courtesy of my sister. It's always been this way; Mar-li's thinking about doing something? SOUND THE ALARM! Everyone else does anything, anything at all? God speed. Why you ask? ::Sigh:: because I'm the first born. I'm the eldest grandchild and the elder sister, in other wordsm the burnt pancake child. The one they try everything out on and the one whose life they feel the need to micromanage, even at damn near 40. Also, I have it on good authority that everything is my fault. Always. I went to Vegas with two of my cousins several years ago. One night one of them got a little drunk; and by "a little drunk" I mean Bellagio security found him passed out under a slot machine. They called my other cousin because that was the most recent call in his log. If they had called his mother, my grandmother, or any of our parents for that manor, I'd be dead now. Why? Because it would've been my fault. Even though I went back to my hotel at least an hour before they found him. Now word on the street is the youngest of us wants to flit off to Texas. Texas! Can you imagine? Anyone giving her a hard time about wanting to move? Anyone bothering her about not being around for family events? Nope and nope. (insert eye roll here).

Life Was Never Worse...But Never Better

I've got $400 in my account with more on the way. I finally got bed sheets I've had my eye on for a frickin year. The most perfect Elsa travel outfit landed in my lap. And I'm still putting a good amount of money away. You'd think this would make me happy. You'd be wrong.

This quarantine is taking all that I am and obliterating it. Writing Rainbow is on hold indefinitely (which is the last thing I need after the disaster that was last semester). In the spirit of innovation (and necessity) I've created an online class and while it might afford me a major opportunity; (opening a Kentucky branch of Writing Rainbow, which would be beyond incredible), it's sputtering in fits and starts, which doesn't exactly fill me with confidence about solidifying an online presence. I refuse to offer the online version of my program to Yonkers and Yorktown (my two main locations), which was the inspiration for creating the online class in the first place, if I'm not confidant in what I can offer.

On the other hand, the extra $600 from unemployment has afforded me some crucial opportunities; the acquisition of Disney dresses, for example (the aforementioned Elsa dress plus two others). Oh, and shoes (more on this later). And, of course, a tulle rainbow skirt (obviously a necessity). Add these lovelies to the beefed up savings, the repaid financial obligations, and the strides this has allowed me to make towards future goals (read: moving out) should be more than enough to eclipse the roller coaster ride of anxiety that I somehow ended up on.

But yet here I sit, relishing the boost in financial stability, getting my Disney on...and desperately wishing it was over.

Anti-Social Distancing

So, let's see; I can't go to work (and God forbid unemployment completes my application). I can't go to church. My president's a moron who compares his ratings to The Bachelor. I haven't seen my boyfriend in two months. And the lines at the grocery store (and the sheer insanity of other shoppers) makes me feel like I'm living in a third world country (which, if this continues much longer, I will be). Numb is what passes for a positive emotion nowadays. In the midst of watching my life fall apart a bit of socialization would probably do me a world of good. Enter Courtney's virtual birthday party. Great.

It's not the substitution of Zoom or House party, or whatever the app of the week in place of an actual party I object to; My sister, cousins, and I meet once a week for a VR hangout and, under the circumstances, it's pretty cool. I look forward to it. The difference is, I like them.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't dislike Courtney. I have absolutely no problem with her. As long as I don't have to spend any time with her. Which, in the, how many years has it been since I graduated college...never mind, has been pretty easy to avoid seeing as, until fairly recently, I lived clear across the country. But now, thanks to the God damn plague, I could be anywhere on earth and still be able to attend. Ugh.

So just ignore the invite, right? Who has time for random parties with annoying people? Oh, that's right, I do. Also, there are other people invited whom I haven't seen in forever so it would be an excellent opportunity to catch up with them. Plus, I'd get to wear a tiara and have it be in context for a change, seeing as it's a Halloween party.

Wait! Courtney's having a digital Halloween party??? Halloween is in October (damn near November). Could we possibly be trapped in purgatory till friggin November?? I check the invite again. Her party is June 1st. Courtney is having a Halloween party. In June. See what I'm dealing with here?

The Signs Are Everywhere...

Okay, let's start with the fact that I never take the C train. When en route to or from Graham's house I always wait for the A (express) train but, this time, on account of the fact that I was running 15 minutes late (Graham's fault because...reasons!) and didn't have the 12-ish minutes to wait out the A, I got on the C.

I'm reading, counting the seconds till Fulton St and my medium hazelnut coffee when she ambles on to the train. Yet another in an endless line of 'hard luck' stories. Or so I thought. 'Yal'll, I've had some hard times but I've been really blessed. I'm not here to ask you for anything, I just want to sing for yal'll. Fine, whatever. Only...she was good. Really good. Like, put my book away good. Talented as she was that was not the most amazing thing that I saw in that moment; that came from the woman sitting next to me. Her name is Taylor and as the young lady's performance wound down, she called the woman over and handed her a bag containing shoes she'd JUST bought! (amazingly, they're the same shoe size). I was blown away. Before I could ask her anything she turned to me and said something to the effect of "God shows me so much. I'm just glad He allows me to be apart of it." Yeah. I couldn't have said it better myself.

Turns out we were getting off at the same stop (Fulton). We talked about the books we were reading (she had also been reading before this amazing event) and exchanged Instagram handles (taylented).

This past Sunday I watched my sister and cousin lead our church in prayer (our church is between pastors at the moment), as I listened to their passionate expression of faith I was filled with pride, admiration, and awe...and unequivocal conviction that The Lord is indeed a real and tangible presence in what often seems a weary world.