Category Archives: Just Me, Being Me

Creeper

Posted on by
6

I am not a fan of most creatures with more than four legs. I mean insects. Multi-limbed aquatic creatures are fine, especially in a marinara sauce. [I kid, I kid – sorta]

For instance I can deal with your neighborhood household or field spider. No, let me rephrase that.

I can deal with the household or outdoor spiders that I grew up with or learned to deal with. I’ve seen images of Australian Hunter spiders. Those mofos gave me pause. I’m told they are relatively harmless, but my brain says –fill in all the ways to say aw HELLZ to the NO here-.

Of the spiders I am familiar with, I love trying to capture images of spiders webs, preferably with the architect, and sometimes its prey, there. I will not freak out in the presence of a tarantula IF I know one is there. I have even held a few of the lovely creepy crawlers. However, forewarned is fore armed. It would NOT be wise for any tarantula to suddenly drop onto my lap. Little Miss Muffat would be left in my dust.

And the more legs it has – the less I like it – the faster I’m (over)reacting. Thus I abhor the most wretched of these: house centipedes. Spring is coming and I know I’m about to see a few of them. Why does something that is deadly to other most home insects, but harmless to us humans need to look like that? Why does it need so many freaking legs!

<Okay Raivenne, breathe 2,3,4 – step back – exhale 2,3,4. Pats hair (thanks GG😁)>

Seriously WHY God WHYYYYY?
/back of wrist to forehead melodrama – and scene

That being said, it brings me to today’s slice. Imagine my initial reaction when I reached over to my Keurig to get my much needed morning java and saw this…

the unexpected.

Because I was in motion, the air displacement cause it moved as though about to climb the mug. Let’s just say it was some VERY tense couple of split seconds to choke down the varying and conflicting reactions that hit:

  • Do NOT yell in the office.
  • Do NOT throw the mug and its contents to get that thing away from my desk – think of the COFFEE!!!
  • Do NOT set fire to it!
kill it with fire!
  • Swipe the offender away and crush it under the cold hard heel of my boot and…
  • Breathe realizing it was only a feather from my freaking coat.

It might have only been a couple of split seconds, but those spit seconds were fright, then fight for my coffee, before just breathe kicked in, let me tell you.

And now I return me and my heart rate to our regularly scheduled attacks and take a sip.

Day 10 of 31 – Let’s see how others are hopefully not freaking themselves out today.

15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge - Two Writing Teachers

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

The “I”s Have It (When I Don’t Have Anything Else)

Posted on by
2

I sat all day wondering what to slice about. What am I going to do? What am I going to say? I have no idea…

I… I… I… oooh wait…

I have an idea…!

I am 
so over being cooped up in my apartment this winter.
I keep 
my fingers crossed that the a trip I have planned holds.
I wish 
I was on that trip right now.
I dance
like I have three left feet and two are broken – doesn’t stop me from dancing.
I sing 
badly – doesn’t stop me from from grabbing a karaoke mic and belting out a tune anyway
I think 
teachers are hardly paid enough for all the work they do.
I want
to hit lotto, but don’t need to to be happy and glad to be in a place in my life to know this.
I should 
finish that painting project started months ago, because
I can 
be a serious procrastinator.
I always 
try my best.
I love 
I myself, inside and out at last.

Day 9 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up today!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Not Digging It

Posted on by
2

Today is International Women’s Day. A good friend and colleague gave me chocolates in celebration of it. A few minutes later he come t my desk asking if I want to see a magic trick. Naturally, looking for a diversion from the more professionally put are you stupid? email I need to compose, I say yes. He does a whole dramatic swirling thing with hands before making on object magically appear. It was an object I did not see disappear, but that was kind of the point as my earring appeared in his hand with a final flourish.

I immediately reach for my right ear lobe and sure enough it’s missing the earring. I thank him happy it was saved from the graveyard. The what he, and now you, ask? The Jewelry Graveyard.

Welcome to just a small portion of the graveyard. Technically the full graveyard is a box where I place all my broken baubles. The necklaces whose chain broke, rings and bracelets with missing ‘stones’ yoy get it. You know the things that might end up in some multi-media art work of mine on a someday that has yet to happen. Yet.

In the case of these earrings It’s where the lonely, never to be mated again come to sort of die. I say sort of because I do have my Pollyanna moments at the oddest times and this is one. I simply cannot concede one will never be well matched again, that once you lose your mate your value is somehow lessened. I will find the perfect match again. Yes, I am still talking about earrings here.

This section is just one more thing I blame on Covid. Each one of these is a earring from my left ear because the earring from my right ear somehow slipped away. I imagine it happens at one of the several points in the day where having on my mask frustrates me. I either fiddle with it or yank it off. Most times I feel the pull and stop myself, but here is evidence of nine times I failed to do so and I reach work or home or wherever sans a right earring.

An array of earrings without matches spread out on a black cloth

And it’s always the right earring! I’ve given up trying to figure out the angles or differences in force ratio to my right that these are all that’s left.

Day 8 of 31

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Shuffluffagus

Posted on by
8

Last week a disgruntled me posted the following on my Facebook page.

Facebook image of angry woman with quote: I am ready to throat punch the colleague who WON'T PICK UP THEIR DAMN FEET!

My cubicle is in a high traffic area where one path leads to the pantry in one direction and to the bathrooms in the other. There is a constant and I do mean CONSTANT stream of passers-by. For the most part, they blend into the white noise of office life and I do not notice them.

But I then I started hearing the shuffle and it’s not the Cupid Shuffle.

This is someone new to the floor. I know they are new because I know I was not hearing the regular sound of loudly shuffling feet until a couple of weeks ago. They are not someone I work directly with so I do not know who they are, or what unit they work with with.

My first thought upon hearing it was the person was tired. We have all had those days where we are just exhausted and can barely put one foot in front of the other. I was forgiving of it that first day. After a couple of days I realized, no, this is the way this person walks – period. Remember where I said I sit. Think on how exceptional this person’s walk must be to stand out so.

Shuffluffagus™ (I know I’m wrong – shoot me), passes my cubicle hourly on average. I hear them before they approach, as they pass, and after they’ve gone by. The majority of those who also have cubicles in the path wear headphones/earbuds. I envy them. I do. I cannot sit in my headphones/earbuds all day. I can barely get through a multi hour training session without constant adjustments of my headgear because they irritate. Not that it would help for I have conducted virtual trainings, been in virtual meetings and have heard them pass. Muted, but still noticeable. In a seven hour workday – that is a lot of shuffling.

In my head, I often hear my southern grandmother yell “Pick up your dang FEET!” when they pass.

Each time they pass by on their way to the pantry or bathroom it is distracting. My head unconsciously pops up most of the times they pass. Which is its own frustration for even the ten-fifteen seconds I’m pulled out of my concentration. Fine, it’s Shuffluffagus, I refocus on my work but then a minute or three later here comes the return trip. Then a respite that lasts anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour or so, before wash-rinse-repeat shuffle.

Because the distraction is enough to make me raise my head, or at least turn it, sometimes there is momentary eye contact with them. I know me; RBF -Resting Bitch Face to those not familiar with the acronym- is my norm. It’s how God made my face. However, I know on occasion the constant distraction has taken my face from resting to active. I also know from the way they have taken to not look at me now and again means that active face has been seen.

I genuinely thought it was just me being overly sensitive, and as I posted earlier this year, my fuse has been shorter than usual. What can I do? Nothing – their walk is their walk. So I bite my lip, try not to look up each time their shuffle distracts me and bear it.

Then this exchange happened [I am the blue text aligned to the right.]:

I wrote down the name “Shuffluffagus” and showed her. Her peal of giggles made it worth it. I was so grateful to know that it was not just me in my misery I threw emotional confetti. No, it doesn’t stop the annoyance of the Shuffluffagus, but clearly Misery really does love Company, because having someone to commiserate why I want to throat punch Shuffluffagus has lessened the desire to do so. Slightly.

Day 7 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up today!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

What Had Happened Was Supposed To Be Nothing

Posted on by
5

I wake up at 5am Monday through Friday for work. Unless I have some activity outside of my house that requires otherwise, I utterly refuse to acknowledge the earth exist before 8am on weekends. Even so I generally do actually get out of bed until well past nine. So can someone please explain why my brain did not understand the assignment this morning?

My eyes opened to a bright sunny day and I declared today I ain’ts gonna do nuttin’. I did not want to do anything. I did not want to go out for anything. I did not want to think about anything. I had no plans for the day other than to veg out. In fact I was in bed, in my pyjamas minding my business of nothing other than deciding how I was going to completely lag about today – and then…

Stop. Drop. Go get the broom girl and grab a mop.
Go. Go. Gotta make those floors shine and glow.
[10 points to those of you who get the musical reference]

The next thing I knew it was past noon. I don’t what happened…

Ms. I Did Not Want To Do Anything had a kitchen, bathroom, living room and bedroom were swept, mopped, dusted and a load of laundry done. Wait what? I heard my grandmother’s voice on my head girl what is you doin’? and whatever magical button that had suddenly turned on Domestic Goddess mode now turned off. I looked in my dining room / office that also could have used a little need a spin n’ span that happened in every other room in my place, but the brain said noPe we’re good.

The next thing I knew it was past two. I don’t what happened…

Ms. I Did Not Want To Go Out For Anything was getting showered and dressed to hang out with cousins. They were in the City for a few hours and wanted to go out to dinner. I looked at the beef stew in my refrigerator longingly. I pretty sure it laughed at me. Perhaps sneered – stews be like that sometimes..

The next thing I knew it was past eight. I don’t what happened…

Ms. I Did Not Want To Think About Anything after coming back in from the early dinner found herself looking at a completed poem and a 3200 word chapter of a potential story. That last was especially frustrating because I have a different story I’ve been try in finish for nearly a month. I abhor everything I write for it, none of it feels right for that story. Yet Muse – fickle wench – drops this whole new thing on my on a day I didn’t want to think about anything. Harrumph!

The next thing I know it’s going on ten pm and for a day I in which I wanted to do nothing find myself realizing that only thing I had wanted to do today -post a slice today- came close to not happening.

Day 6 of 31

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Almost But Not Quite

Posted on by
6

We’ve reached that lovely part of the year where the lion and the  lamb start circling one another.  Where Persephone reminds Hades it’s once again time for the distance part of their long distance relationship. Where fauna and flora begin their respective reproduction orgies.

We in the northern hemisphere prepare to happily shed clothes, while our southern hemisphere reluctantly prepare to bundle. In the interim Gaea and Bacchus sip fermented ambrosia while they flip coins on the weather temperatures.

Spring is still a couple of weeks away by the calendar. That means it is still officially winter. So at guess who has been in a comfort food mode these past couple of days? Breakfast Wednesday was cheese grits with scrambled eggs and sausage. Thursday’s Dinner was grilled swiss and bacon with tomato soup. And last night I got the brilliant idea to start on one more stew for the winter. My brain is self-wired to think of stews as only a fall/winter weather thing. Thus, I only make stew September through March.

I still haven’t quite learned the knack of cooking for one. So, things like a stew are a commitment to several days of having the same meal before I start Ziploc-ing and freezing. Regardless, I was still in comfort food mood, I wanted homemade stew so I begin Step 1:The Gathering. Do I have everything I want to make stew? Yes/No work out substitutes or things I’m willing to do without (how is it I do not any green peas in the house – canned frozen or fresh? Oh right they’re on the shopping list for tomorrow because you forgot them last week – grrr), and lay everything them out. My small kitchen with minimal worktop space looks like I’m setting up for a cooking segment as I prep. Speaking of which…

It galls me to see cooking segment/shows that lay claims of 15 minute prep/20 minute cook. Yes, Rachel Ray can throw all those perfectly measured peppers/onions/carrots/seasonings etc in a timely matter because she has someone else as sous chef doing all that fun stuff beforehand. Like most home cooks I am my onw sous chef. It took nearly half an hour just to clean and cube the four pounds of chuck roast to bite sized pieces. I still have the onions, potatoes, carrots et al to be done. It essentially took an hour to do all the prep and sear the meat before I transferred everything to the crockpot for the actual cooking to begin.

I should probably mention it was already 8pm when the brilliant idea struck. Thus it was just after 9pm when I finally turned the crockpot on. So low cook for eight hours or cook on high for fours hours. Yeah, who am I kidding? I set an alarm and four hours it was. At 1 in the morning I removed the bay leaves and rosemary, added the cornstarch to thicken the broth and gave it another fifteen minutes before I declared it done.

Please remember all of that was because I wanted stew for dinner last night. At nearing on two in the morning I then grabbed what was left of the cabernet sauvignon that didn’t go into the stew and called it a night -erm- morning.

1:30am this morning
Bowl of beef stew served over pasta, topped with cheese. blend.
7:30pm tonight. I like cheese – shoot me.

Day 5 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Ummm Why?

Posted on by
7

The more I think I cannot be caught off guard by the “ummm why?” of those people with whom I share the office floor, the more those people – and note I did not say co-workers or colleagues, but those people – are determined to prove that I in fact can be caught off guard.

Exhibit A: I walk down the hall at work and encounter this: someone left their dishes in the water fountain.

Okay, “dishes” is bit of a misnomer. It’s not as if there is a stack of plates with remnants of mom’s spaghetti. [Dammit – and here comes Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” to rattle in my head for the next hour.]

I’ll even give credence to the fact that despite the literal dishwashing implement in the dirty mug in preparation for cleansing, clearly the incredibly rude person who did this was only storing the items there momentarily-likely while the used the nearby loos- before they could be taken to the sinks in the pantries. Regardless, that was just wrong.

Yes, there are water coolers -with better tasting, colder, better filtered water- located elsewhere on the floor that most people use. Those water coolers are located in the pantries that bookend the floor. As my floor hosts about 400 seats, 80-90% of which are occupied on any given weekday; the coolers are literally a full street block apart from one end of the floor to the other. This classic water fountain is centrally located on the floor. Regardless, that it is used much less often, it remains a working fountain, I have seen people use the fountain as intended – to drink from.

I can only imagine the utter repulsion of the poor souls who wanted a quick sip at the moment without going to polar ends of the floor to do so and encountered that nonsense. I know I shuddered at the thought.

So typical me, printed a sign and taped it above water fountain: This is not a dish rack. It is a working water fountain. Just because YOU don’t drink from here does not mean others do not.

The fact that I saw the dishes, got annoyed, created and printed the sign and the items were still there when I returned to the fountain to post said sign proved its need for it (in my humble opinion – and some of you know how humble my opinions are). Sign printed and posted I forget about it.

When I left for the day I pass the fountain and note the dishes are gone, but the sign remained. Only now in tiny print in a corner was scrawled Oops Sorry. This morning the sign was gone.

I have no idea if the offender knows I posted the sign. Unless I see the person with the mug I will have no idea of the offender’s ID.

I do have an idea that at least that person will not be so presumptuous about turning fountains into personal dishracks.

Day 4 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up this Friday!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

A Job and A Title

Posted on by
10

One morning I was given a job. It came with a title.

I knew it was going to be a demanding one. I had read and been told so much about how to do the job. Watched others. None of it prepared me for it. Because in spite of all the advice, I learned the job on the fly. There were far too many days when I had no idea what I was doing, even less of what I was going to do next.

Not going to lie, there were days where I know I messed up royally. And while even now, after holding this position for decades, I still sometimes question my abilities for this job. I do the job anyway. Most days I think to myself, I’ve done my best, I continue to do my best and it’s not a bad job at all.

One morning I was given a job. It came with a title.

And unlike marriage, it’s a job and a role that not even death can part.

The job: parent. The title: Mother.

Over recent years I am, or have been, the emotional parent of sorts to several, not even close to being called children, a few of whom who refer to me in matriarchal terms.

I am the biological mother of two.

But only one can be my first.

One morning I was given a job. It came with a title.

No, that’s not accurate. I wasn’t given a job and a title.

One morning, a bundle was placed in my arms, and I was honored with the job and title for the very first time.

Sometimes I swear that morning was just yesterday, a week ago at the most.

Happy 40th Birthday, my first sun.

Day 3 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up today!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Dynasty Circa NYC Mode

Posted on by
11

The subway, again being the subway this morning, I was put off my train. At least this time I was at a good transfer point where I easily had choices and was able to move without my St. Jude of the MTA beacon turning on.

The previous train had the heat turned up to lava, so by the time I transferred to another line my coat was wide open. Though the clothing rules have been more or less relaxed to business casual at work, I own suits, look damn good in them, and choose to wear them. Thus I was in full Raivenne in the City stride as I sauntered into a surprisingly only semi crowded car, which is eons better than a semi-empty train car, that was empty for all the bad reasons a subway car during NYC rush hour can be.

As I start to scan for where I want to sit, I hear a very bad Humphrey Bogart impression from a very familiar voice.

“Oh hell! Of all the subways in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine!”

I encounter a colleague who now works in a different location. Though we have kept touch via phone and email, we have not seen each other in person in nearly two years (stupid Covid!). We have always had a wonderful joke-flirt-tationship, so for him to pick right up and greet me as such is a delightful surprise to say the least.

“Oh that line is only worthy if you’ve got gin to serve up in this joint.” I grin as as I see him and approach in full Domonique Devereaux mode. [Kudos to all of you who do not have to look that up.] “Dashing as always, darling. So, tell me – do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you have gin to serve up in this joint, of course. Do keep up, Blake.*”

“It’s not even 7am!” he exclaims.

“Unfortunately, true in this time zone at the moment, but…” the adage of it’s 5’oclock somewhere so clear in the silent ellipsis there was no need for the words to be spoken.

“Oh God!” he laughs.

“Yes?” I smile benignly to my devotee. “How may I help you?”

“I completely forgot how modest you are not. You don’t think much of yourself do you?” he laughs, well used to my antics.

“Darling please! Most women know those days when everything is working for her – hair- war paint – clothes – all on point. Even the most homely and humble feeling of women will honestly acknowledge to herself now and again that she may be “pleasing to the eye” on a given day. I have a full length mirror at home; I know what I am working with. And let’s face it, I’m as humble and homely as I am skinny and white**. Now where’s my London Dry?”

Please note this exchange is happening on a NYC subway to the amusement of all within earshot.

Idle curiosity made me look it up and at the time of this writing it is coincidently after 5pm in Casablanca, Morocco. Alas, I am not on holiday and do need to prep for yet another meeting that should be an email – thus my thirst for gin remains unquench – for the moment.

Here’s looking at you in spirit Bogey and Ingrid.

Time in Casablanca, Morocco 5:09:32pm, Wednesday, March 2, 2022

*Blake is not his real name. Since my mind was in full Domonique Devereaux of “Dynasty” mode as I teased with him it felt apropos to use here.

**For those of you readers who don’t know me (and why the hell don’t you! Read my About Raivenne page dammit!), I am big bodacious beautiful black woman.

Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up today!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

My Human Nature Deja Vu All Over Again

Posted on by
8

*🎼 excuse me while I take a momentary interlude to hum a few notes from the chorus of Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” 🎶*

Oh, okay I’m back. The moment I thought of the title for today’s slice the music moment happened in my mind. I imagine quite a few of you familiar with the song, had a similar musical Pavlovian response reading, but I digress.

I remembered it is Tuesday and I need to post today as I have not done a slice in a couple of weeks. At the beginning of the year I did say my One Little Word is Persistence. I did promise myself I would persist in being more regular in my blogging. Human nature that while my regular posting is not where I want to be, yet accept it is better than it was.

Only now as I started typing today did it hit me that today is also March 1st aka the first day of the Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge. How lovely and fitting it is that this year, the 15th Anniversary of Slice of Life Story Challenge starts on a Tuesday! I’ve been a participant for over half its existence. Oh boy!

Make that an infrequent participant. One where I’ve missed a year or two, but most often do not complete a full month. Like last year where I fell asleep and missed completion by ONE DAY. Oh hell!

Now here am I – I, who has been letting Life! Liberty! and persistent pursuit of simply Living! has trouble remembering to post once a week, has once again signed up with a promise to post every single day for the next 31 days. How’s that for self-gluttony for self-punishment? Yet I cannot help/resist enjoying the challenge each year.

I will dub this the Pursuit of Persistence 2022.

See ya tomorrow.

Come see how the rest of us are sharing slices of our lives!

Slice of Life logo

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers