This is the first blog of my real-time author career.
I
welcome any and all criticisms as this blog is monitored and negative opinions
will not see the light of day. Yes, I am a bit arrogant but I am so much fun. I
decided to jump into the Blog/Vlog community for the sheer pleasure of saying
what I wanted to say when I wanted to say it without the discretion of my
editor, syntax or plot structure. So far, so good ~ did I mention this is day
one…
I am truly the oldest of three girls not necessarily
depicted in the series The Solomon Sisters (
http://amzn.to/1NlVIrB).
My father at his closest during my childhood lived approximately 100 miles
away. In our young minds, that was a two-hour Greyhound bus ride, a lunch, zoo
or museum trip and nap or a five gas station lotto stop and start on the local
US41. In retrospect, most of these times were wonderful. There were the days
and nights that we ladies figured out things for ourselves when it came to
housekeeping, honey-do’s and the like.
Earlier this year I found myself so grateful for the
inventions improv’s and SNAFU’s we endured as children. After a
bout of bronchitis linked with the discovery of a herniated disc, I ran out of
meds because of poor planning. My husband working some of the most ungodly
hours needed his rest and I decided to endure my pain during the night. The
next day I was a bear until he arrived from work with my new prescription. I
take half a dose and struggle not to cough and sleep until my bedtime. As we
snuggle down and my hubby drifts off into his snoring frenzy, my brain kicks
awake like nobody’s business. The pain multiplies to the en‘th degree and I am
miserable. Finally, my bowel decides it too is restless.
I easy out of his arms, grab my play tablet to catch up on
some Facebook crime game and head to the bathroom. After a few moments, I
remember I’ve been on opiates for about a week and that smell is coming from
inside of me. I thank God for indoor plumbing and flush. The sounds are not
familiar so I peek down to see a mutiny. The bathroom at the other side of the
house is too far for me to maneuver at my stage in THIS process. So I do what I
was taught from a child I pray, not just whisper a prayer I call out loud a
prayer of saving grace and embarrassment (“Oh Lord Have Mercy”) {I should
mention we are newlyweds, less than two years}. As always God hears and
answers, this time He said ‘yes’; and the water rescinded just enough for me to
allow me complete my deposit.
Jumping directly into the shower more to wash my memory than
anything else, clean and refresh only to step out to… “WAIT, WHAT?” Everything
looks exactly as it did when I got in the shower, what the heck!!!!
Of course, you weeping willowy flower type
llllaaaaddddiiiieeeesssss, (in my Jerry Lewis voice) would go wake up your poor
defenseless husbands. Then shame him
into forgetting he ever saw the sight of your poo increasing like the blob who
ate Mt Everest after dark (Ms. DJ, my editor - I apologize for this entire
paragraph, probably the whole blog is screaming for your assistance.) (Mr. A
‘T’ F don’t you even read it.)
For those of you meeting me for the first time think of me
in 50’s, 60’s and 70’s R&B Angry Black Woman songs… starting with “R. E. S.
P. E. C. T.” Throw in some “I am WOMAN”, and red white and blue uniform with a
truth lasso and you have the outer core shell that I allow people to see.
So back to the bathroom cabinets, sink cabinets garage
shelves, there is NOTHING that will “commercially” clear this commode. Fine,
fine I will wake the hubby! Dangitall. Wait, “whose child are you?” I can hear
my Mam’ma asking me as I walk out the house at 13 ½ on my group date with
friends. I head to the kitchen, grab all the baking soda in the refrige’. I
poor it in and see a slow change from brown to light beige and a few foaming
bubbles. I smile to myself, “I got this”.
Padding back to the kitchen I remember that vinegar will assist in this
process. Taking my worshiped Apple cider vinegar, which I purchase by the
gallon and I pad quietly back into the bathroom to complete my unscheduled
science project. Smiling with confidence at the 6/8th filled bowl I
pour about a cup without measuring. Then
watch as the white rapid waves of foaming bubbles and sizzling gulps jerk
heaving and spiting. I again verbally; so I knew I really was talking I prayed…
“OH LORD”. The level literally rose to 99.5% and halted.
“Whew.” I need another shower. In I go. Did I mention somewhere in here I am
running on 2 hours of sleep in the last 29 hours and my neck feels like I have
been “Kung Fu Figntin”. This time when I leave the shower, I am proud
to be my ma’ma’s child. And I silently thank Daddy too for being around but not
so much and not so close. They did not raise a shrinking violet with no brains
or savvy. They raised a full-grown woman with spunk and fire.
Thank you for joining my blog, my fan base, my mailing list or
any other way you are connected to my life; you have entered JESSie’s office
where JESSie writes at JESSie’s desk.
Children, wimps, weak minded and easily bruised mindless
bodies; those quickly offended and souls that need coddling will not be
comfortable anywhere close to me. I will
however smile and put on The Plastic Face.
