I Know I Said Friday Was My Last Post, But …
With warm lentil soup, bread, great vibes, good people and a gang of children, our Kwanzaa celebration is off to a wonderful start. I know I said Friday was my last blog of the year, but today was the first gathering, and it was crunk! The children played, the adults caught up, we poured libations, lit the first candle, spoke about unity and then danced the night away. The best part is that we were done in time to get a good night of rest.
Tomorrow, we’re doing safety/earthquake planning and preparedness. The next day will be arts and crafts followed by two days of shows at Lula’s, Fuss’ birthday and a festive karamu on Saturday. I’ll be tired, but the smiles on the children’s faces make it all worth it. I’ll post the video tomorrow.
-
- Our Kwanzaa Table
-
- Mooch’s Kwanzaa Gifts
-
- Fuss’ Kwanzaa Gifts
-
- Pretty Bread Basket
-
- The Safest Kinara Ever
-
- Ile
-
- The Cooks
-
- Kid Clownin’
-
- Kids Eating
-
- The Happy Hosts
-
- Discussing Music
-
- Clownin’
-
- The Boys
-
- Mooch and Uncle Denzil
-
- Des and Garth
Marital Mondays: Pidgin Lunacy
I have my own language. There are single words for common phrases that I get tired of saying. For example, “Prontashate” means “I love you.” I created it with my god-sister in the eighth grade, because repeating things like “How are you?” was exhausting.
Hannibal thinks this is insane, because the entire language must be memorized as there are no rules based on grammar. I think he’s lazy. You might be thinking that the person who gets tired of saying “I love you” and asking “How are you?” is lazy. I understand that, but languages like “Pig Latin” are pansy to me. They’re too easy to decode. If one is going to make a language, they should make one that no one in the flyover states can understand.
Hannibal said, “In order to speak the language, one would have to know *all* of the phrases and know to ignore all the rules.” I told him that he clearly didn’t take anthropology on that fruity USC campus he went to, because he was attacking my native tongue and, therefore, being culturally irresponsible.
“Your native tongue is lunacy!” He laughed.
“That was mean.” I pouted.
“Baby lunacy is my native tongue, too. That’s why we’re together.” He offered trying to cover it up.
“We don’t speak the same language.” I replied, rolling my eyes. “We wouldn’t have nearly as many disagreements.”
“It’s just a different dialect.” He retorted.
“You look here, with your pidgin lunacy!” I started.
He cut me off with, “Actually, It’s cajun lunacy. It’s blackened.” I gave him a blank stare.
Needless to say, I still walk around the house (and Los Angeles) spouting off syllables that make no sense to anyone but myself and my god-sister, who is usually not present. Maybe that makes me sound crazy, but I just wear a bluetooth and do it with a British accent. People probably think I’m an alien.
Hannibal asked if I was fine with everyone thinking that I was a whack-job alien instead of a designer/dance instructor, and I said, “I’m not done growing up until I’m thirty. I can still change what I want to be when I grow up, and I’m a Libra so I’ll probably take that liberty.”
Marital Mondays: Poor Hannibal … Me and Kia love You
Sunday, after a pool party, we had to stop at Target, because the kids desperately needed a chest of drawers or dresser for all of their clothes. My Kia Soul converts into all sorts of shapes to fit things like water slides, dressers and bananas in it. Well, it’s not used to doing that with men who are 6 feet and 2 inches tall in the front seat. So, this is our life …
Tuesdays With Mooch: The Water Slide
My daughter talked my father into buying her a $500 water slide for the backyard. How she pulled off this remarkable fete with a man, who is so thrifty that ninety percent of his wardrobe is from the Salvation Army, is beyond me. I guess she batted her granddaughter eyelashes and said, “Pwetty pwease!”
Anyway, the weather this weekend, with its random bouts of rain, almost didn’t allow the slide to see the light of day. There was, however, a brief period of sunshine on Sunday, so we told Mooch to throw on her suit.
Hannibal and I wrestled with the slide, while bickering back and forth (No worries, that’s just how we get when we’re putting things together). Finally, the weight of the baby on one arm and the fifty or so bees swarming around the orange slide, made me retire to offering only verbal assistance. When we couldn’t figure out where to attach the slide’s hose, I said, “Let’s just blow the damn thing up, and attach it after the fact.” We did. And all was well.
We had cancelled Mooch’s other friends, because of the weather, but that didn’t stop her from having fun with her cousin.
-
Flickr Photos
More Photos Very Pinteresting
This text is not inteneded to be seen. Rather, it is junk text to force themes with auto widths to extend to there full measures. This text is not inteneded to be seen. Rather, it is junk text to force themes with auto widths to extend to there full measures. This text is not inteneded to be seen. Rather, it is junk text to force themes with auto widths to extend to there full measures.
Connect
My Sites
Who am I?
Author: Myshell Tabu
-
