Black People are Normal, Part II

I recorded this video several times earlier in the week. I’m just getting around to posting it at the tail end of the week. (Free time is a luxury!)

The young man that I mentioned in the video is Elijah McClain. His story just came to light this year. His murder is finally being investigated instead of being swept under the rug.

Elijah McClain by @HeatherSheiderIllustrates_

In today’s post, I continue the discussion from the previous post: Black Lives Are Normal. I speak about some of the things we do on autopilot that others may not give a second thought.

Black Lives are Normal, Part I

I’ve been trying to write my thoughts about the latest string of race-related killings that occurred since the start of the year and leading up to the murder of George Floyd. I think I have covered most of the areas of grief, emotionally. I’ve cried over people I never met. But George Floyd’s murder hit a nerve. If I can’t write about it, I will talk about it. Bear with me…there are layers to this and it’s challenging to put my thoughts into a true organized format, but I couldn’t delay sharing with you any longer.

(Sorry about the craptacular video editing. I just had to get this out!)

Thanks in advance for listening.

Be Quiet

Shhh! Be quiet!
Don’t let your voice be heard!
Don’t disrupt my bliss
by pointing out
that your house is on fire.
Don’t tell me about the arsonist
we both witnessed lighting the fire.
Hearing such horrible news
stresses me out!
Tell me what you plan to
make for dinner.
Show me a basket of kittens.
Pull up a chair,
pour yourself a glass of wine,
and let me tell you how much money
I lost in the stock market
when that law abiding citizen
set your house on fire.
Hush now! Be quiet!
Don’t speak at all!
If you pretend nothing is wrong,
that burned out
shell of a home you have left
will seem quite luxurious.
You really should do something
about that, though.
It’s pulling down the value
of my home.
Shhh!! Be quiet!!
As a matter of fact,
why don’t you just
go away…

Photo source:

It was a dark and stormy night…

Actually, it was the third dark and stormy night this week. While I usually enjoy rainy days, this was too many days of precipitation in a row. It was making my body ache. My bones creaked like a set of old wooden stairs. My hips, thighs, knees and back protest whenever I try to raise myself from the edge of the bed or out of a chair.

Why didn’t anyone tell me that once you reach a certain age, your body will fight you for every vegetable you didn’t eat and pull-up you didn’t do? Well, if you’re reading this, consider yourself warned!

Today was a better day. It was overcast, but not as drab as it’s been since Friday, which gave me a little bit of energy. A few more days like this, and I should feel a little more like myself in no time.

Sleeping Fennec Fox

Breaks and Breathing Room

I took a break from the 30 day challenge yesterday. It’s necessary sometimes. Writing happened in the wee hours of the morning, but nothing coherent that I thought you would appreciate. (I certainly wouldn’t appreciate just reading story notes! I want the meat with the potatoes!)

I spent the last day chewing on some thoughts about the latest Black*ish episode that everyone is talking about. Because those thoughts are more political in nature, I posted my thoughts here. I’d love it if you took a read and shared your thoughts on Medium. I like to keep this site focused on the sharing fiction, poetry and writing tips.

I will be back tomorrow with a short story. It’s going to be a continuation of a previous post that I left with a bit of a cliffhanger! (You all have been asking about the rest of this story! 😀 ) You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out which story it is!

Until tomorrow, friends!


Sometimes I Wonder

Sometimes, I wonder about him. He was devastated. I called him about a business matter, but he mentioned his pain. I couldn’t ignore his grief. His father died. I told him I understood. I could relate to him losing someone he loved, because I’d lost someone recently, too. I told him it would take time to heal, and how crazy family can be during a time of loss because everyone is trying to show the deceased how much they were loved and appreciated. There’s not a blueprint for how to grieve. Everyone does it differently. I wonder if he remembers my words.

I heard he lost his job because he started drinking. I guess he was trying to numb the pain. It feels prideful for me to say this, but sometimes I wonder if he remembers our conversation. I would call and check on him if I had his number. To be honest, I don’t even recall his name. I just remember the pain behind the voice on the other end of the phone. I wonder if he remembers that someone cared, and understood. I guess I still care, even now. I hope he’s doing well. I hope he’s healing.


Looking Forward to Autumn

I posted the following on Facebook last night:

I’m not trying to rush anything, but I need summer to move it along so it can be officially autumn and socially acceptable to make a big ol’ crockpot full of apple cider. #EndRant

I love summer with it’s lack of snow and constant chill. But, this summer has been a little too warm and humid for my tastes! I’ve been craving crisp autumn air and crunchy red and gold leaves since July. I’m looking forward to pumpkin-laced everything and warm apple cider. I’m looking forward to sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirts. And if I can find myself in that particular outfit, with a mug of warm apple cider (and maybe an apple donut or two), and comfortably positioned near a fire-pit with a few friends, then that will make it perfect!

In the meantime, I’ll pretend I don’t have a bottle of unfiltered apple juice and all the necessary spices in my pantry to make apple cider. I’ll wait for autumn to show up.


 Image credits:
Hot Apple Cider by Unskinny Boppy
Pumpkin Spice All the Things Meme
Autumn Leaves by Luan Ahn


It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

The end of summer is upon us! Not the weather, necessarily, but having the children return to school! Parents are celebrating all over the country!

The end of summer no longer has the same impact on me since my daughter is now a college student. But, I do fondly remember the joy that came with dropping her off at the school and then peeling out of the parking lot to come home and crawl back into my warm bed to catch the remaining portion of my 40 winks. Good times….goooooooood times!

So, I raise my coffee mug to you parents who are getting prepared for (or whose children have already had their) first day of school! Happy 2016-17 school year!



It’s Not My Time

I made that statement to a friend this weekend as we were discussing relationship and personal goals. “But that’s a negative way of thinking,” she said. But it’s not. This is how I explained it to her:

At the start of every year people declare, “This is MY year! This is MY time!” We talk about the things we are going to get and goals we are going to achieve by the close of the year, and we mean it!! We put a great deal of value on the attaining and achieving, but not the process. We become disappointed if it takes longer to achieve our goal than the designated time, and we often give up when it does.  If your process ends up taking 730 days instead of 365 (or less), it means that the 365 day window wasn’t your time, and that’s ok.

What happens if you take the time to bask in the process? What will you learn about yourself? What you gain in the end will have greater value because you took the time to go through the process without letting the expiration date on the dream become the mark of success.

Don’t be afraid to say, “It’s not my time.” Learn how to appreciate the process instead.

Grandfather Clock by Steven Depolo


Tomorrow will be my daughter’s 20th birthday. Twenty. The BIG 2-0. I’ve been a parent that long! Two decades! I have the gray hairs and fine lines to prove it! (And she survived my parenting tactics! Ain’t God good?!) In three days I will be celebrating my Annual 35th-and-change birthday! (Ask me no questions and I won’t have to tell you lies.) I was just a kid when she was born. I knew nothing, and here I was holding this new life in my arms. The truth is, we grew up together. I think we’ve grown up nicely. 🙂 We still have a way to go, but I’m proud of who we are.

Happy Birthday Kiddo!

Birthday Cake by Omer Wazir