The Next 6 Months (NYC)… Sample Sale Sickness, Intervention Unnecessary

The bread line at the Tory Burch Sample Sale. Absolute Madness.

Approximate reading time: 15 minutes (To be read with a glass of wine or a Billy’s cupcake or some other indulgent treat!)

Here I go again but I know the ladies will enjoy this, the guys will get a laugh but I know you are all thinking, “After Thanksgiving’s Woodbury Shopping Craziness (see previous post, The Next 6 Months (NYC)… Black Friday Blues Whatever Dude! ), are you really still at it?” The answer is “HELL YES!!!” I live in the ultimate city of designer savings, I’d be a fool not to engage. As for funds, I’m no fool, I’ve been EBaying the crap I don’t need and making a profit which = instant sample $$$. Mama, didn’t raise no fool cause all the bills are paid. Hustlers rule these streets in NYC and that’s exactly what I do, I’m a hustler when the occasion calls for shopping!

I hit three and a half designer sample sales in NYC this past week. Why three and a half and not four? Cause Catherine Malandrino’s sample sale was disappointing, so she gets half of an acknowledgement.  The other three, DVF (aka Diane von Furstenberg), Calypso and Tory Burch were all winners.

Usually I’m at war at a sample sale, people. Fearless, strategic, masterful. Without shame I can truly say that to watch me at a sample sale is to watch a gazelle break into a run in her most ultimate and favorable environment.  I come dressed for battle with war paint smudged on my cheeks to let the chicks know that I mean business and I’ll take no prisoners.   This time was no different with the exception of the Tory Burch sale where I made friends in line due to the fact that they were cut from the same cloth.  Our discussion ranged from Gilt Groupe sales talk to figuring out how we could speed up the line.  We were like a Girl Scout brownie troop getting really to sell cookies and we were outside in a NY queue for an hour (Yes, CLT who never does lines especially in the winter outside, stood in a line for a sample sale, but it was soooooo worth it).  Here’s the lowdown:

DVF Silk Blouse

DVF (aka Diane von Furstenburg)- Total bounty $460, three silk blouses, one wool skirt, two travel cases (to be sold), one incredibly sexy wool dress (va va vroom on the booty!)

I went to the sale twice. The first time I scoped out the place, eyeballing what was in abundance and co-oping what was scarce. My cousin joined me on her break and offered to tag team. At that moment, I wanted to hug her for that’s one of the first times since we were kids that we had fun together. Another time recently was over Thai food. Ah Melly Mel! Later that evening with two DVF silk blouses and travel cases in tow, we broke bread together at a cute lil spot in the lower east side and had a fabu evening soaking up Malbec and discussed her soon to be nuptials.

The second time both my sister and one of my best friend’s Linda joined me. This time it was everyman for himself for it was after 5:30 and the whole world was there. DVF also dropped the prices from the day before due to the shitty weather, which made it all incredibly dizzying.  About 3 hours later, we all walked away with bags of gear, running on adrenaline, giggled with glee while enjoying lattes and cappuccinos at Starbucks and hot and spicy Korean chicken at Bon Chon. Crrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeee!

Calypso Silk Dress

Calypso Total bounty $270, five silk/cotton/linen dresses, one beaded and embroidered tunic and a doormat (It was too cute to leave behind).

HERE I HIT PAY DIRT!  I absolutely had no expectation for this sale.  I honestly really never buy her stuff but I thought after visiting Catherine M’s crappy sale, I’d get some more cardio in and walk over to the Calypso sale to see if they had any sundresses for my Thailand trip.  I was floored, for I found a bounty of $40 dresses that were CUTE, CUTE, CUTE!!!  I was using my STICK and MOVE strategy, grabbing any item with any type of girly possibility and repositioning myself in another aisle, throwing off the local wildlife who tried to mimic my moves.  I emerged from the dressing room triumphant!

Cute, right?

Then, the African door dude from upfront walks up to me and puts a 10% Calypso coupon in my hand, stating that he wanted to make sure his African sister was hooked up!  Instead of becoming hysterically jovial, I kept my cool and gave him a 1000 watt smile and thanked Mother Africa.  Who says we black folks don’t work together?  Actually I hinted at this in a previous post but I happily take that shit back. This extra 10% gave me the break I needed to justify getting a doormat that I thought was the cutest thing… so didn’t need it, got it anyway.  My best friend Andrew totally co-signed on it and it sits happy at my door making me so happy every time I come and go.

HOT Tory Burch dress!

Tory Burch- Total splurge $730 (I know, I know but look what I got), 4 pairs of shoes, and basics like the navy skirt I’ve been searching two years for, a leopard print sweater, pima cotton l/s polo and the ultimate sexy, silky holiday dress (yummy!).

This was my first Tory Burch sample sale.  I love shopping in her store for its pure design overload.  It’s like the ultimate  bachelorette pad.  I am a BIG fan of her aesthetic for she makes clothes for us girls who are curvy and voluptuous, that 1950′s and 60′s body type before that crackhead Twiggy hit the scene ( I’ll gripe about that illness in another post).  Think Joanie from Mad Men, love her too despite her prejudices.  Anyway, many of the chicks I met in line at the TB sale were only there for the shoes.  I was the opposite, I almost didn’t look at any shoes for I was on the hunt for anything special, clothing wise.  I found the perfect navy wool skirt along with a surprising array of  basics that I totally knew I needed in the wardrobe.  Upon leaving I felt accomplished and my work there was done.  I had no desire to go back for I had combed every square inch of the sale and I was truly satisfied and exhausted.  I’m sooooooooo done.  I need some macaroni and cheese, STAT!

After all the self-indulgence of the past couple of weeks, I have not forgotten how fortunate I am and have pledged to tithe 10% of my income to the various charities I support.

Women for Women of Sierra Leone

I have started recruiting my to donate $1 dollar for my cause “Women for Women of Sierra Leone,” it’s listed on Facebook as well and I will match their efforts, $1 for each person who donates (up to $100 total of all contributions donated combined by this effort between today and Dec 25th, 2009). If you would like to do participate, AWESOME, please do! This cause is wonderful and goes far to help make an impact in the lives of others.

Girls for Gender Equity

My other favorite cause is “Girls for Gender Equity.”  After years of donating toiletries and other goods, this year I will also be including a monetary donation to this amazing effort! They do good work here!

If you’re feeling any of my favorite causes, go head, donate, it’s a great thing to do after you have just indulged in my indulging week. Be good and be merry!

Next week, the month in review!

Therapy Session… I was (SAD), now I’m happy!

Do you have the balls to be happy?

Approxiate reading time: 7 minutes (with sources 15 minutes)

Recommended Listening Music: Winter Daze by Capathia Jenkins and Louis Rosen from the ablum “The Ache of Possibility”

I was having a Billy’s cupcake moment with a friend when she started complaining about how shitty she was feeling lately.  After she told me her symptoms, I was 99% percent sure she was affected with (SAD) or Seasonal Affective Disorder, something I’ve struggled with myself.

As long as I lived in New York, I never realized that I suffered from (SAD) until recently.  To give you an educated explanation of what (SAD) is, here it is from Wikipedia:

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), also known as winter depression or winter blues, is a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms in the winter or, less frequently, in the summer, spring or autumn, repeatedly, year after year.  Symptoms of SAD may consist of: difficulty waking up in the morning, tendency to oversleep as well as to overeat, and especially a craving for carbohydrates, which leads to weight gain. Other symptoms include a lack of energy, difficulty concentrating on completing tasks, and withdrawal from friends, family, and social activities. All of this leads to the depression, pessimism, and lack of pleasure which characterize a person suffering from this disorder.

Growing up in Miami, where sunshine is plentiful, I was never aware of this disorder.  In NYC, I always shrugged off the crummy way I was feeling (both emotionally and physically) when the snow would start to fall and daylight savings time turned the clock back.  Plus after spending many years in retail, I literally started to mentally hate the winter holidays, for I witnessed horrifying behaviors and attitudes from bargain-hungary shoppers and experienced long, grueling 12-16 hours on my feet on concrete folding the same cashmere sweater a thousand times in dark, dim settings full of awful lighting.   Those feelings have never left me, which is one of the reasons I don’t participate in the holiday rush bullshit and I’m SUPER SWEET to anyone who works in retail, hospitality, and/or any service based industry.  PLEASE DO THE SAME.  But even after I left retail and school, I still felt yucky during the winter.  Being an April baby, I always blamed my depression on my cravings for spring.  When I a kid, I was taught that any illness or pains I thought I had, especially mental, would pass unless I was on my death-bed, so when I was diagnosed with (SAD) two years ago, I was not surprised! There’s a whole lot of stuff bubbling under this cauldron.

My doctor suggested the following = exercise that buzzes the brain and clears the mind, (I suggest my favorite, cardio window shopping)+ quiet meditation (this activity I still struggle with) + “Northern Lights” or “light therapy” (the most awesome invention since sliced bread!)=  The ultimate (SAD) busting great mental health trifecta!

What are Northern Lights?  Again, drum roll please for Wikipedia:

Light therapy or Northern Lights consists of exposure to daylight or to specific wavelengths of light using lasers, light-emitting diodes, fluorescent lamps, diachronic lamps or very bright, full-spectrum light — by a so-called light box. The light is administered for a prescribed amount of time and, in some cases, at a specific time of day. While full sunlight is preferred for seasonal affective disorder (SAD), light boxes may be effective for the treatment of the condition.

My lil light!

My favorite Northern Light is the Philips GoLite P1 Blue Spectrum Light Therapy Device.  I found it on Amazon on sale, but it usually retails for $119.99.  Shop around, if you’re really interested in getting one.  I know it may be a hefty price for some but it’s one of the BEST investments you can make for your overall health and productivity. I lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve my little Go-Lite!  When I first got it, I was so corny, singing, “This little light as mine, I’m going to let it shine!”  It took about 7-10 days for the light therapy to affect my condition and now it has become a ritual and has affected the way I go about my day positively.  It really works!

My personal light therapy session begins every morning when I wake up.  While my little Go-Lite is on for the first round (15 minutes), my hard-boiled eggs are cooking, I’m sitting at my desk and organizing my day while watching/listening to  “The View” on my computer.  During my second round (15 minutes more – if I feel I need it) I eat my breakfast peacefully and rise mindful, invigorated, ready to tackle the world.  You don’t have to stare directly into the light, I actually would not recommend it, you can do other things, like read, watch TV, cook, as long as the light can reach your retinas.

If you find that this therapy session hits home, do some research, monitor yourself, and if you’re really feeling some kinda way, for crying out loud, go see a professional!  Enjoy winter, I am!

Shout out to Dr. M.

Sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seasonal_affective_disorder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light_therapy

http://www.amazon.com/Philips-GoLite-Spectrum-Therapy-Device/dp/B000C1946S

The Next 6 Months (NYC)… Black Friday Blues (Whatever Dude!)

(Approximate reading time 10 minutes- Enjoy!)

Recommended listening music for this post:

Sun Is Shining (Bebel Gillberto), Homesick Inc. (DePhazz), Sound The Alarm (Thievery Corporation)

Thanksgiving

YES FOLKS! I was one of those crazy ass people leaving the comfort of a couch on Thanksgiving after feeling symptoms of the “itis” to trek north an hour no less to one of the most notable shopping destinations in New York, Woodbury Commons.

I have three words for you… DOOR BUSTER SALES! And then another three words… LONG ASS LINES! That’s right, even though stores have gotten smarter this year with the merchandise offerings by not ordering too much, just clearing out the old, they still had staples that needed to be refilled and folks were ready. The tour buses full of Japanese tourists were lined up and filled (I have to tell you the story another time about when I was in the Gucci outlet in Italy and three to four Japanese women hoodwinked me out of a bag or two solely through teamwork. I wasn’t mad, all I could think was the usual banter, “Now why can’t we stick together like that… especially for GUCCI!), but I digress.

My best friend Andrew likes to tell the famous tale of a Black Friday bout 12-13 years ago, we trekked up to Woodbury and eight hours later, I boarded the bus back to New York with 4 enormous bags filled with 11 pairs of Italian shoes, 6 designer bags, 3 dresses, 6 pairs of pants, a myriad of accessories and stuff, spent bout $1100. Drew and I always sigh and smile when we recollect the events of that day. Drew makes me laugh for every time he tells the story, he always adds more pairs of shoes on to the count. If you asked him today how many pairs I bought that day, I’m sure the current count is probably up to 214!

I remember that day so vividly. The air was sooooo crisp and clean up there. We had adrenaline flowing through our veins like crackheads who felt no pain and we were out of control. I remember sitting there reasoning with myself that I needed that 3rd plaid Coach wristlet for gifting when I knew my budget was blown 45 minutes ago. My broke college ass spending rent money like it was water. It was a spectacle but we were happy as pigs in shit and I don’t regret it to this day and this is why.

I’m been a shopaholic since I was in elementary school, saving and starving at lunchtime so I could have some spending cash available when the school supply cart came around in third grade I could buy something, anything for that matter. I remember my addiction started with stickers and erasers or anything that I could create pieces of artwork with. Back then I could do anything with a sock (usually “borrowed” from my father), some glitter, yarn, buttons, stickers and glue. I particularly remember a sock doll with cornflower blue yarn plaits I made for my mother for Mother’s Day that made me a superstar in the eyes of my classmates while they struggled with colored paper cutouts and staying within the lines. Buying, collecting and creating became apart of my “M-O.”

Once I got to junior high, clothes made the man and more importantly, the reputation. Hand-sewn was out, store-bought was in. Back then, my mom still made some of my clothes, especially for the first day of school. While the first day of school was the most important fashion shopping event for most, I always worried bout the second day, for my mom had to clothe five of us and didn’t invest much into the new trendy styles, just barely the basics to get us through the season. The torment of being a nerd was linked to my lack of name worthy gear and I became obsessed with getting a job so that I could buy my own “Jordache Jeans,” “Cross Colors” outfits and other clown costumes I’d need to be apart of the “in” crowd.

By my senior year of high school, I was a loner but I was still obsessed with fashion. I remember skulking around Downtown Miami, cutting class to find the latest issues of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. By that time, I was caught up in the rapture of fashion transformative powers.  That how I ended up at Fashion Institute of Technology for college, dreaming of becoming a fashion editor for a fashion rag.  Again shopping and fashion were where my loyalties lie.

Shopping like what I described at Woodbury and in my past have helped and yes hurt me but the memories that go with the experiences have been enriching to my life.  I have bonded with special people over a tote bag.  Yes, times I’ve gone overboard have been part of the life lessons but I was actually one of those people who would go out and get a third job to pay it all off.  Shopping has never killed me and ironically it wasn’t all about the things.  Drew will tell you in a minute with disgust that I used to give away 75-80% of the things I would buy (for a plethora of reasons- living in NYC with no closet space is always the front-runner) but I enjoy beautiful objects.  I am materialistic?, YES!  but I VALUE people more ie, my experience at Woodbury with Drew and our overall friendship.  We will go to our graves talking bout that day.  Drew talks about the crazy look in my eyes with I was lugging my purchases on the bus determined to get them home.  I remember him foaming at the mouth when we entered the Gucci outlet.  Awwww, the good ole days.

I will admit, this is NOT a responsible post, while everyone else is talking bout cutting back, I have been shopping for deals.  My girl BSquared recently mentioned in her blog that she’s basically is not shopping for the next year (incidentals not included).  I thought that was admirable but for me it may not be feasible.  I don’t have to spend money to shop.  I know too many folks with closets that I can shop in and trade stuff if need be.  I still would go shopping though, at least window, it’s my cardio.  I’m not rich.  I don’t have a sugar daddy.  I just have learned through years of shopping and buying (yes, I have been a professional buyer in this life) what I need and want and how to get it at 75-90% all the time.

And the great times I enjoy shopping with Andrew and my other friends… priceless!

2009 Woodbury Shopping Tally- 7 pairs of Italian shoes from Cole Haan $425 (Originally $1700), 3 pairs of J.Crew cords $59.97 (Originally $207), and 2 bags from Longchamp $65 (Originally $130- my splurge!) Cheers!

www.premiumoutlets.com/woodburycommon

The Next 6 Months (NYC)… FELA! He heals.

This post is dedicated to Tommy Otis Jr. May you rest in peace, my friend.

Fela Kuti has been on my radar for many years but I have never been able to dedicate my full attention to him. There was always a client appointment or a project that needed finishing. In passing or at a restaurant in Brooklyn, I’d hear his music and say, “I must get to that show.” I am speaking of the show, “FELA!” honoring his Nigerian namesake curated by Bill T. Jones that is now on Broadway.

I hate to say it took a very unfortunate incident to get me to sit in that wonderful seat in the mezzanine on Friday night. One of the nicest guys I’ve known passed away, which set my younger sister in motion to Miami to bury her friend (He was so young upper 20′s), which in turn placed two tickets to “FELA!” in my guilt-ridden hands. Why guilt-ridden? After the initial glee about scoring free tickets, in the cab ride uptown, I thought, “Is THIS what it took for me to go?” I kept saying that I was going to buy tickets. Ironically, while I was in bed with the flu, I was researching dates online promising myself sometime soon but still not fully making a commitment. At the same time, pangs of memories from the time Tommy would visit my sister in NYC or when he took us to see my dog, Trevor in Ft. Lauderdale, always calm, relaxed and just sweet. He was a good kid. Took care of his family, didn’t smoke, hardly drank, was a drummer in his church band, just an all-around good guy and now he was gone. I’d been having the pangs ever since I heard the news. We weren’t close but I was really feeling “some kinda way” about his passing. WTF, it’s true, only the good die young.

It would take something of tremendous spirit and contigious passion to make me snap out of the guilt. This is what FELA! did for me.

Sexaphone blazing, yes sexaphone, asses shaking, color blinding, all right there for you to take in and swallow whole. The favor is sensational for the movements are like pop rocks, exploding and sizzling on and off your tongue. Watching was like drinking a cup of rainbows laced with Bahamian moonshine! The MUSIC, the PASSION, and the storyline all pull you in. I will not tell the story or give away too many visuals because my description will fail to truly capture what happens on that stage. All I have to say is that the guilt dissolved as I sang and danced along with the performers and the message healed any misgivings about why I was supposed to see FELA! that night.

I was there to celebrate life. To celebrate my life, Tommy’ life, this existence. Singing and dancing in celebration through pain and protest, using the power of music to push forward. I prayed to heaven as I stood there swaying to the beats for I knew that my sister now has a guardian angel and for me being there was OK, appropriate and healing. I may have to go again! A++++++++

Don’t be surprised if you see me running around Rio 2011 carnival with a blond mohawk and chiseled abs, I’ve been inspired to go “Kuti” for carnival.

You must go see FELA! If not for your soul, for the booty shaking alone!

The Next 6 Months (NYC)… Swine Flu Averted

New York, NY, just like I pictured it! After stepping off the plane from Miami I was ready to kiss the ground in New York for I was home Sure it was overcast and cold, didn’t care. My lover, NYC, engulfed me at the gate and I felt warm and fuzzy.

That lasted til the next morning, when I woke up with my throat all scratchy, my body aching, and the overall sluggishness ending up tying my hands behind my back. Damn it, could it be? All those people in Miami International Airport who sneezed and coughed without covering their mouths and noses, did they really get to me even though I thought I threw anti-bacterial gel at them like it was holy water? The answer was YES, I caught the flu! So people, my first November week really back in NYC, I ended up in bed but I’m happy to report it wasn’t swine, just your plain ole garden variety type of viral flu disease.

After days of chicken soup and lemon wedges, I had a craving for Pinkberry (for those of you, where Pinkberry isn’t, it’s chi chi fa fa, frozen yogurt). By posting this craving on Facebook, I ended up getting hosed down by friends, thank you Anita, by the mere thought of dairy when chicken soup was all the rage for my recovery. I ending up thinking of a wonderful alternative: Spicy HOT HOT HOT Korean Barbeque Chicken strips from Bon Chon, yummmm. I sliced those bad boys up in threw um in my soup!If you’re ever in Tribeca, stop in to Bon Chon for a free sample, or two, or three! After a couple MORE days after Bon Chon, I had to turn to Thai food because between amazing takeout from Republic (MAN-Union Square) and pauper’s feast at Sea (BK-Williamsburg), the Thai culture helped keep a chick from “cutting” somebody if they showed her one more piece of chicken. Duck curry in da house, HOLLA!

One bright point of staying in bed is I got to catch up on my current events, or in my case interesting blogs. One that has especially peeked my interest is People.Places.Things by BSquared. Good people, cool blog, nuff said.

Next up, FELA!

The Next 6 Months… Back In NYC

Time to go outside my play!

It’s Autumn y’all! Time to go out and play. Full report of eating, squeezing, sweating, hustling and loving New York coming soon!

SideBar… Miami Finale (And Then I crashed and burned and happily returned to NYC)

The Bride

I’d been able to keep up the charade at my sister’s wedding but at the reception I was starting to itch. I needed something to calm my nerves for people wanted to come up to me and shoot the shit about the good ole times. What good ole times??? As they would paw me and slap me on the shoulder, I would think, “Oh you mean the time you threatened my life if I didn’t eat your nasty plate of creamed corn?” or ” That time you gave me a sweater for X-mas that smelled of your BO?” Thanks, auntie “fill the blank.” That’s on my father’s side. True stories my friends, brought to you by shady family memories with no commericial interruptions.

I was doing soooooooooooo good until two events shanghaied me into complete insanity. My father, stinking of guilt and old age, always tries to hugs me at this things, and I try, then recoil. It’s horrible for I can’t return the love for there’s nothing there. He’s done many a wrong to his ex-family in my opinion. The hug actually wasn’t the issue though. He’d snuck his current wife and her child into the events (FYI-They were not welcome-Unresolved family Issues- but he phoned the bride and informed her they were coming anyway right before the ceremony, classy right?) I’m sure when he was younger he was a better person, but lord knows if his mama, Willie Mae, was his only example, I understand why he’s an ass, and yes I know I’m speaking ill of my grandma (That’s a convo for another psychiatic SideBar in a land far, far away) but I can’t help but be shady. I will say this, he took care of my dog Trevor for years and Trevor died in his arms. I guess he thinks this somehow links us emotionally but I know that Trevor gave him purpose and that I had already given him a gift by letting my father taking care of him. He took care of my dog 1000% times better than any of his 5.5 kids (and I say 5.5 sarcastically both for him and my siblings). Willie’s dead inside and Trevor was the only one who looked forward to his presence. Ahhh, the love of a dog. RIP Trevor.

On the mom’s side, the shady behavior reared its ugly head with my Uncle Tony, who decided not to bring my Grandmother Agnes to the reception. I guess he was pissed off that my sister did not invite the “ghettorats” aka his children/my cousins to the wedding. FYI- These are the same cousins I referred to in my post SideBar… Miami Part Uno (Warning- Attitudinal Post Alert), you know the ones who pick your pocket while they hug ya? Anyway, grandma is temporarily wheelchair and Uncle Tony dependant and while I will not get into the particulars, Uncle Tony is trying to steal everything but the kitchen sink out from under her including her house. As her primary “caregiver” I say “slumlord,” his actions are of self interest and greed. I actually used to like my Uncle Tony back in the day, I actually look like him but sadly his spirit is broken from life as well. He was too much of a coward to stand up to my decreased grandfather so now he takes it out on grandma. Regret + anger= resentment. So everytime I turn around Uncle Tony pulling a fast one, and this time was no different. Grandma wasn’t there. I was Boiling subconsciously…

On the train coming down to Miami, I prepared a one minute “happy” speech that apologized not only to my sister getting married but to all my siblings and I figured that it would create a platform that we could all honestly operate from and discuss. Instead she got me with three gin gimlets, “boiling” from the family misdeeds, so I pulled a Kanye of sorts, and exhibited bad behavior. I could go into detail and I’m sure there’s videotape, but here’s the summary:

1.Intro
2. Demanded all white people in audience to dance (FYI-THIS ACTUALLY WORKED) by the way I LOVE WHITE PEOPLE! You give GREAT wedding gifts!,
3. Made fun of father carrying on charade not acknowleding all the children he bore,
4. Made fun of preacher’s comparison of my sister to a dog (I actually understood what he meant in the sermon but vaguely knowing his history he was one to talk),
5. Threw in in an inappropriate sex joke (which I realized that half the audience didn’t understand because they didn’t know the dictionary term of the sexual act and half was horrified cause they did… maybe),

In front of me, my brother is close by to drag me off the stage just in case I started to strip or if I continued with my tirade,

6. My apology to my siblings…
7. Finally, and a private mafia joke (wasn’t it all a private joke?) geared towards her co-workers and her mentors that went off without a hitch.

I’m sure my sister wanted to strangle me, or maybe not I don’t really know her like I once did but so be it. The issues are still there but I can’t be the only willing participant to discuss them. Whether laughing in a crowd or alone, I was still laughing and happy that I went.

With all the formalities over, I have lasting memories of waking up next to my snoring mother and the TV blarring CNN, stealing Acqua Di Parma toiletries off the housekeeping carts, cold buttermilk pancakes and psuedo jalapeno cheese grits, losing one of my favorite handmade hammered earrings and my camera recharger, gathering in the reception area of the hotel with my immediate family and hugging and kissing them (happily) until next time. Really CLT, next time? Yep, next time. Oh, don’t worry C-Lo, I’ll clear my speech for your wedding with your mama!