Relax Me Baby

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Relax Me, Baby!

Aug09-3There is no shame to my game – I have a relaxer.  I admire people that have natural hair styles, but for the amount of time I spend in the gym and training, a relaxer does great things for me.  I generally get one every 6 weeks.

It was a typical six week morning visit as I sat in Chenica’s chair.  She checked my hair and there didn’t look like there was too much new growth (my hair had been flat ironed the visit before).  I agreed and we thought we could just wait another two weeks until my next visit.  I received a roller wrap and was on my way out the door. (I didn’t think twice about the rain that was outside).

The humidity and my hair got in a fight, and the humidity won.  As I pulled up that afternoon to pick my boyfriend up from the airport he said, “Did you just wake up?”  Wow!  That’s kinda crazy.  I instantly grabbed the ponytail holder that I faithfully wear around my wrist and pulled my hair back.

That weekend was okay because I could flat iron or curl my hair.  But, as the days crept on, my hair started to revolt.  At first my hair became more difficult to brush.  I had to start at the ends and gently work my way up – slowly.  It then got to the point where it felt like my hair was shriveled up and grasping my scalp like a leach looking for blood.  I couldn’t comb it.  I couldn’t even put my fingers through it.  It was some thick stuff!  I tried to look for the positive in the situation.  I said a blessing that my hair was finally long enough to be pulled in a ponytail and I proudly sported one for an entire week.

As I sat again in Chenica’s chair I gave her the warning that it was pretty bad.  Not only was my kitchen bad, but the entire house needed to be remodeled.  She only took me half serious until she parted (well tried) my hair down the center.  Although it was really rough, Chenica worked wonders like always.  As she finished, I ran my fingers through my hair and was so glad to feel like my normal self.  Chenica is a wonderful beautician and we continue to watch my hair grow longer and more healthy.

We all have our bad hair days, some are worse than others.  I learned it’s all about doing the best you can with what ya got, until you can do better.

M.Y.  August 2009

Rest in Peace

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Rest In Peace?

Aug09-2My grandmother (my mother’s mother) recently passed away so I traveled to Georgia for the funeral.  I didn’t just go to any part of GA.  No, I went to Bainbridge which is about as far north as you can go in the state before running into Tallahassee, FL.  I went there a lot growing up and always looked forward to my grandma’s homemade chocolate cakes.  But, I also remembered the gnats and how they seemed to outnumber the general population (there are 12,000 people in the town spread out over only 19 square miles).  Small town, yes indeed.

It was good to visit again.  I met people that I had no clue who they were, but they knew everything about me.  Some introduced themselves as cousins that I never knew existed.  Everyone was very welcoming and wanted to accommodate Ms. Lottie Martin’s family.  The funeral was in a small country church and it was packed with people. Any empty spaces were filled with gnats once again.  They didn’t bite like mosquitoes, but they flew around you just enough to make you feel temporary insanity.

I enjoyed hearing the memories the community shared about my grandmother.  My mother was the oldest child, and only girl, with four younger brothers.  It was also soothing to hear stories people shared with growing up with my mother and learning about the stories from back-in-the-day.  After we left, we headed to my grandma’s house and I discovered albums and boxes of photos of my family.
All was well, until I arrived home and received ‘the phone call’.  One of my relatives, I won’t name any names, always seems to want to complain about everything.  This time she was calling me to rant and rave about how the service was done.  She didn’t like the program.  She didn’t like the service.  She talked about how she would have done it differently.  And you know what?  I didn’t really care what she had to say.

Anyone that has ever had to plan a funeral knows that it is a very rapid process. You are grieving and at the same time trying to make every detail right.  It’s not easy.  I did it for my mother.  There’s the entombment, the funeral, the burial, the bills, the bills, the emotions.  I put the mute button on my relative and her complaints.  There are some people that are never happy and try to make you unhappy with them.  You have to just brush them off, love them from afar, and keep your positive thoughts close to your heart.  Don’t let them bring you down.

M.Y.  August 2009

The Storm

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The Storm

Aug09-1It’s been a long time since I’ve used an alarm clock to wake up.  My body seems to naturally arise at about the same time the sun does.  However, this Tuesday I rolled over, looked at the clock and realized it was almost 8 o’clock.  It was odd, though, because it didn’t seem like it was 8am because my room was still extremely dark.  It all felt like the start of a horror movie.

I jumped out of bed, walked toward the window and saw the torrential rain beating at my bedroom window.  It was pretty loud and strong so I quickly moved away.  I turned on the news to see if the Wizard of Oz was sweeping mistakenly through Kentucky instead of Kansas, but they didn’t say much.  The sound of the storm continued to grow louder so I walked toward the backside of my house to calm my nerves.

I went into the bathroom to start getting dressed.  I took my top off as I brushed my teeth, but I kept hearing the wind in the other room.  I tried to focus on being cavity free, but I had this fear that my roof would be blown off and it’d be standing there exposed for the world to see my goodies (I don’t really have a mass quantity of goodies to see, but still).

I was fortunate to be able to wait awhile for the storm to pass before heading to work and I didn’t have damage to my house.  Unfortunately, though, many parts of Louisville did suffer.  Universities and hospitals were closed.  People were stranded.  Basements were flooded.  As horrendous it was to see the damage citywide, it was amazing to watch how citizens helped their neighbors and complete strangers.  It seems like Louisville should be renamed the “Unforeseeable, Freakish Weather Capital of the World”.  We survived the wind storm.  We survived the ice storm.  We have now survived the flood.  All in less than a year.  So for anyone that feels that in their personal life that they can’t weather the storm – just realize you have!

M.Y.  August 2009

Old School Tech

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Old School Tech

Jul09-5My Ipod Classic passed away recently and went to Ipod heaven.  I noticed the warning signs and rushed him to the Apple Store (hospital) in Oxmoor.  But by the time we arrived, it was too late.  He was gone and there was nothing that could be done.

I figured eventually I would purchase a new one, no big deal.  That is – until I had a meeting in Lexington.  One of the joys of driving is listening to your favorite music.  The ipod was great for playing all the jams.  I now had to find a substitute.  I first thought of taking some CDs.  But when I walked to get some, I found something even better!  CASSETTE TAPES!

Now, these weren’t the ones you bought in the store.  Nope.  These were the homemade tapes you made yourself.  I grabbed about 10 of them and ran to the car with excitement.  There was no telling what I was about to hear.  I heard a little bit of everything – me winning tickets on B96.5, an ex-boyfriend singing me a song, me signing songs, remixes I tried to make for my cheerleading dances, a slow jams tape…  It was pure comedy!

The most difficult thing about it, though, was just the basic operation of the tape player.  Although I was driving in a Lexus, a tape player is still a tape player.  If I wanted to skip to the next song, I pressed fast forward, counted to 10 and hoped I was on the next song.  Ah man, I went too far.  So, I’d press rewind, count to 3 and hit play again.  It was all about patience and timing.  Although frustrating at times, relieving the high school and college days made it all worth it.

So the next time you need a quick smile brought to your face, dust off those old cassette tapes.  You never know what you’ll discover!

M.Y.  July 2009

Pan-tee Dropper

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Pan-tee Dropper

Jul09-3You know I have always heard people use the above phrase, but never really knew what people were talking about.  It wasn’t until this week that I could see the significance of the term.

On Monday, Maxwell stormed into the Louisville Palace for a breath taking performance.   Now I’ll be one of the first to admit that I have never been a Maxwell lover.  I would classify it more as a Maxwell liker.  I’ve enjoyed some of his songs, but the thought of him has never made me shriek nor shiver.

The concert started late and then it took forever for intermission.  The crowd seemed to start falling asleep (it was a Monday night after all).  But as soon as Maxwell hit the stage, grown women starting screaming like their teenage children.  The entire crowd was on their feet.  Maxwell showed us that his hips still know how to groove and that his smile can still make you faint.  If you came for a show, you received your money’s worth.

Maxwell let you know that he was there for you.  It didn’t matter if you had been laid off, recently dumped or hated looking at yourself in the mirror.  Maxwell made you feel as if it was your personal concert.  He made you feel sexy.  He took your mind off everything else.   Maxwell, plainly and simply, was a panty dropper.  He could have asked for anything he wanted and easily received it.

The women in the audience weren’t the only ones who benefitted from the performance.  Several couples sat in front of me.  It was interesting to watch the men.  As the women stood up and swayed to the smooth grooves, the men also sat there with a smile on their face.  Not only did they enjoy watching their women move, but they knew their women were now in the mood and Maxwell was just the appetizer to the full course waiting at home.

Louisville has some wonderful artists coming to the area.  Treat yourself to one of the performances.  You deserve it!

M.Y. July 2009

Different Kind of Party

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Different Kind of Party

Jul09-2I went through my closets packing for a week in Houston. I knew we were going to the Carribean Festival there and would need to dress accordingly for each of the parties.  Now, anyone that knows me knows that if there’s a party and an outfit is needed, Michelle Yeager has a dress that will fit the occasion.  (with a closet dedicated just to dresses, one of the 100 in there must work).

I was pretty much set for all of the events – except for one.  I was told to not wear anything cute.  Actually, nothing even close to cute.  It was suggested I dig in my closet, deep in the back, and find something I probably never would wear again.  Hmmm!?  What type of party was this?

First of all, who really hangs on to clothes that they are never planning on wearing again?  Secondly, if I did find something, why would I want to wear it out in public?  I searched high and low and found a pair of old black shorts.  I went to the store and found a decent shirt on sale for $3.  I kept my hair wrapped and covered (as if I were on my way to sleep) and put a cheap baseball hat over it.  I got dressed, looked in the mirror, and couldn’t believe I was really headed to a party.

We pulled up to this huge empty space outside close to 1am and the place was packed with thousands of people.  Everyone, men and women, were dressed just like me.  Nobody looked cute.  And I soon understood why.  Within 10 minutes of being there someone walked up to me and asked if I was warned about what type of party this was.  I said yes.  Instantly I received a dab of green paint on my wrist.  I thought to myself that wasn’t too bad.  Unfortunately that thought didn’t last very long.  Within minutes I was covered with green paint on my arms, my legs, my face and even down my back.  Throughout the night people were covered with various colors of paint.  Oil was tossed through the crowd like free money.  Folks threw out more baby powder than Labron.  Fires were lit on sticks – and the crowd loved every minute of it.  I stood as far to the side as possible when I saw the water truck pull up. The people celebrated as the hose sprayed everyone in its path. I saw a real pig’s head (don’t know what happened to the body) and a guy dressed like Santa who had a bag for his urine/alcohol attached to his belt.  This was definitely a no holds barred event.

This was a traditional Carribean festival event and the crowd was proud of their heritage and their music.  Dozens of flags waved in the air of the different countries represented and everyone had a great time.   The hips gyrated, the sweat was dripping in full force, the soca beats were alive and people celebrated and could have cared less who was around.  The ‘get hype’ songs had everyone’s feet jumping off the ground and there was not a dull moment the entire night.  This party, called J’ouvert, was definitely a change from a typical Louisville party.  However, it was one I needed to experience and also one that I will never forget!

M.Y. July 2009