Saturday, June 18, 2011

Cookie Explosion

This is an exerpt from one of my three works in progress (#WIP) about a female bond enforcer by the name of Nicole Slawyer ("Cole Slaw" for short).  Let me know what you think of this story.

I want kids but I'm kinda afraid that I'll break them. Not that I'm a child abuser or anything, it's just that kids always seem to get sick in my presence. I think it's me because when I'm around them and their parents, they are perfectly healthy. As soon as I get them home alone with me, their nose starts running; they get a stomachache and/or throw up all over the place.

This is so not an exaggeration. My godson, lil Ron, was the first kid I babysat when he was about 5 years old. His parents wanted some alone time. Baby Tina was at Ronald's parents’ house, and I volunteered to watch Ron since he was bigger. They said it would be an all-nighter and they asked if I minded.

Joe was out of town visiting some of his relatives that I didn’t like, so I welcomed the company. But now that I look back, he may have been getting down and dirty with his current boo, Paul, someplace.  That's another story for another day.

"Of course I don't mind. Go on, have a good time. But don't make another one of these just yet okay." I said. Meosha and Ronald just laughed.

My feathered friend,Tipsy and I were able to keep Ron's attention for about ten minutes before he burst into tears, begging for his mama. I tried to explain to him that he would be spending a little time with Auntie Cole and that he would see mama and daddy as soon as they came back to get him. His bottom lip shivered but he stopped crying.

"You wanna help me make some cookies?" I asked him.

"Yaaayyy cookies!"

So I pulled out the bucket of cookie dough that I bought from some lady Pop-Pop knows. I usually don't buy stuff like that from any old body, but this was a fund raising type thing, probably the church building fund or something like that.

Anyway, I read the directions on the side of the bucket that explained how much dough you should scoop on the cookie sheet to make a regular sized cookie. If I followed the instructions I would be eating about 10 of those tiny cookies, so I decided to make bigger cookies. So instead of a dozen cookies, I made 4 big ones. Ron's eyes were big as let him look at the cookies before sliding them into the oven. Apparently, Chef Meosha didn't make cookies that big.

"Relax, kid. I promise this way is much better."

Ron smiled and hugged my leg, and went in search of toys to play with until the cookies got done. I set the timer on the oven just in case I forgot that I was cooking, but the aroma coming from the oven filled the whole duplex. Even my neighbors from next door knocked on the door asking what I was cooking.

"We smelled chocolate and looked outside and didn't see either one of your friends’ cars in the drive way so we were making sure everything was okay."

It was always a major even when I turned on a stove. I guess my neighbors thought that someone in the family had died and I was making a dish for the repast. Meosha and my boo, Marcus, had me spoiled.

"Everything's fine. Just babysitting."

That brought and even bigger look of concern. They had never seen me with a kid and probably didn't think I could handle it. I assured them that everything was under control and they told me to knock on the door if I needed anything.

Lil Ron and I sat at the kitchen table staring at the oven with our heads on our propped up hands. As soon as the timer went off we jumped up. I grabbed the oven-mitts and pulled out the mega-large chocolate cookies.

"I'll give you one now and if you eat that I'll give you the other one," I said to Ron.

I placed both of my cookies on my plate. Then I went to fridge, grabbed the half gallon of milk, and poured both of us a glass full. Lil Ron gobbled his cookie down quickly and was ready for the other before I was halfway through with my first one. I put the other one on his plate and he gobbled it down too. He drank all of his milk and sat there looking as if he wanted to attack me for mine. I gave him half of my second one. He sat back rubbing his stomach looking really satisfied.

"You wanna watch cartoons?" I asked him. He nodded his head vigorously. I had him settled on the couch watching a SpongeBob DVD that was in his bag.

I was looking at my empty plate wanting to make more cookies but not wanting to share them with Lil Ron. About 30 minutes passed and then I heard retching coming from the living room. It was Lil Ron hacking and then hurling bits of chocolate chip cookie and milk all over the couch.

Tipsy was squawking, "He's blowing up. He's blowing up."

And Ron did indeed look like he was blowing up all over the place. It took me a minute to jump into action and run to the closet and retrieve the mop bucket. Of course by the time I placed it in front of him, only yellow stomach acid was coming out.

After it looked like Ron was finished, I helped him to the bathroom and took off the soiled clothes. The poor kid had messed his pants as well, which brought tears to my eyes.

"Its okay, Auntie Cole. They were good going down." Then he patted my face. I could feel the cookie gook residue that his little hands left on my cheek and wanted to hurl myself.

While Lil Ron was in the bath tub, I dismantled the couch cushions and put everything that could be washed in the machine. I grabbed Pine-Sol and scrubbed down the foam cushions and leaned them up against the wall and turned on an oscillating fan that blew air on both of them simultaneously.

When I went back to check on Lil Ron, he looked as if he was nodding off as he sat in the murky water. I called his name and he woke up. I already felt bad about giving him all of those cookies; I was not about to let him drown in the tub. I helped Lil Ron dry off and put on pajamas. I laid him in the daybed in my office and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

I never told Meosha and Ronald about Lil Ron getting sick. Apparently he hadn’t either because he and Tina spent the night with me a few more times over the years until they reached their teens. I guess they stopped wanting to eat junk food until they threw up. Which was great for me, I had to buy a new couch because the old one had faded from all of the washing.

Kids were too much work.  Believe it or not, chasing criminals was so much easier.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

My Dating Dilemma

I have a habit of attracting men who are down on their luck: no job, no car, living with family or fresh out of jail. Everyone goes through hard times but I would like to date someone that’s not looking for someone to “help a brother out”.

To get help with my dilemma, I sought advice from this lady that I follow on Twitter @TheDatingTruth. According to her website, Miss Solomon offers practical dating advice that could make even the most clueless guy get a date. She is very straightforward when offering her opinion to help single men and women have better dating, networking and social experiences.

Here are the tips that she told me to follow if I want to attract stable guys on their grind:

Tip #1
Go where they go. Stable men find ways to fill their free time. Join clubs, networks and boards.

Tip #2
Ask Questions—kids, career, living arrangements, convictions? Find this out before you give your number. Its okay to judge it’s your life.

Tip #3
Get yourself together. Like attracts like. If you’re stable, you can recognize the signs of stability. Surround yourself with stable people.

Tip #4
Have a routine. If people (men) start seeing you at the store, gas station, on the train (bus) on a regular basis, they’ll eventually hit on you.

Tip #5
Break ties with negativity. Happiness attracts the best people. When you’re happy it’s a magnetism few men resist—you’ll attract great men.

I found a lot of truth (pun intended) in all of these tips, but I did have one question. If I’m out somewhere and I meet a guy that I’m interested in and who’s interested in me, but I don’t have time to ask him his whole life story, what’s wrong with giving him my number? If I find out later that I don’t like him, I’ll just stop taking his calls. Should I just pass up the opportunity to meet a great guy?

Her response—“It’s not an opportunity if it’s someone you don’t want anyway. Missing out on a guy is like missing out on a sale. There will be another one and you’ll probably find something (someone) better anyway.”

Makes a lot of sense to me, I hope I can take heed to this advice. It sure would keep me from dealing with a lot of unnecessary foolishness.

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