Wearing White After Labor Day

My friend, Dorothy, and I were walking down the aisle at work when we ran into two other coworkers.  Ms. Paulette was decked out in her usual attire--all purple everything.  The lady that was with her, whose name I don't know, had on an all white outfit.  Dorothy told the lady in white that she looked nice and she responded, "Thanks.  I figured I'd go ahead and wear it one last time."  I smiled and nodded but I was thinking, huh?  The outfit didn't look like it was too little and about to burst at the seams so what was she talking about.

As Dorothy and I walked away, it finally dawned on me what the lady in white meant.  The Labor Day weekend is fast approaching and she wanted to wear her outfit before it became taboo to do so.

For the rest of the day I wondered about the "don't wear white after Labor Day" tradition.  I even asked some of my other co-workers what the big deal was.  I mean I had heard about it all my life but I didn't take it very seriously.  Heck my grandmother forbade me to wear red because she said it was the devil or Jezebel-like or something.  (She would smack me with her cane if she could see this red fro on my head, but I digress...)

I asked Sandra, who sits in the cubicle across from me, her opinion about the issue.  She said that since they make white winter clothes, including a leather white skirt set that a friend of hers has, she didn't see anything wrong with wearing white or pastels during the fall and winter months.

Three other female coworkers said that they didn't know where the tradition originated but they were always taught that it was safe to wear off-white, cream, and winter white (whatever that means), just not plain white.

I sat down and continued to work but the notion wouldn't stop nagging at me until I made up my mind to write this blog post.

Last year, I asked a young lady on Twitter about this "no white" thing.  I can't remember her exact words but I do remember feeling kind of dumb and backwoods-ish after she finished her spiel.

Sandra told me to just Google it so I did and found a number of sites that gave me a lot more info than I bargained for.  It talked about people wearing white during the summer to keep cool but not in the winter because it wouldn't keep them warm enough.  They also mentioned that they didn't want to mess up their white duds during the rainy and sometimes muddy months.  As I continued to read, I happened across another reason.  Back in the day, early 20th century, middle and upper class people used the "rule" to differentiate themselves from the poor underprivileged souls who weren't worthy of being in their hoity-toity presence if they didn't know about the only wearing white between the beginning of spring and Labor Day thing-a-ma-jig.  This had to do with knowing which fork goes with which dish too but I don't get that either. *shrug*

This all sounds like a bunch of bull... spit to me.

Personally, I wear any color at any time as long as its clean and not so tight I have to hold my breath most of the day to keep from bursting it wide open.  But hey, that's me.

What are your views?

Are you for or against wearing white after Labor Day?

What I've Been Up To

Yes, I know, I haven't blogged for a while.  Please believe that I have not just been sitting around twiddling my thumbs.  Before my addiction to social media, I was a very avid crafter.  From crochet, to cross-stitch to working with foam sheets to scrapbooking, I never had a dull moment.  Most recently, I took an interest in jewelry making.  I have a few videos dedicated to it on my YouTube channel (click the "I love YouTube" button to the left). 

Until the last few months, I wasn't that into jewelry but a coworker of mine began selling beaded bracelets and earrings.  I became one of her most loyal customers until I requested something that she didn't have time to produce--hoop earrings.  Having been patient for several weeks I decided to buy some wire, tools and beads and made my own earrings.

After I made that first pair I went crazy making earrings to match the clothes in my closet.  Then I thought, "Hey, I need some bracelets to match all of these earrings."

Now I never set out to start a business but I seem to be heading in that direction.  Everything I wear to work, I get one or two or ten people that want the same or a similar item.  So far I've only been making custom jewerly that the customers request but I'm probably going to start doing a feature item a week where I make at least six of one items to see how many people will buy it.. 

One thing I'm going to have to learn is to not give everyone credit.  I try to do POD (pay on delivery) but some folks don't pay when I deliver.  Yeah, I know everybody's money is funny, but I don't have the money to make stuff for free.  I mean if it was for advertising purposes, and the person referred a few people to me, I could give them a free item every so often.  Otherwise, I need my money honey.

To avoid not receiving payment, I'll just let people know when I have their items and tell them I'll deliver it whenever they are ready for it.  People with common sense know that means, "have my money ready".  I'll see how this jewelry making thing pans out over the next couple of months.

I plan to start making hats and scarves again for the winter.  The last time I did that was maybe 6 or 7 years ago.  I stopped because I was working two jobs and got overwhelmed with orders.  Hopefully, I'll be able to keep up with the demands this time.

Whew!!!

I promise I haven't completely stopped writing.  Sometimes I have to live a little bit to have something to write about.  Stay tuned. 

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.

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.

Check out http://www.thedatingtruth.com/ to get more information about dating, men, sex and relationships.

Confrontation

This is another installment to "Her Leftovers", after the fight between Quintina and Tamesha. 

Quintina was sitting on the couch in the living room when Cortez made it home.  He had a few bags of food and a bouquet of flowers in his hand that he struggled not to drop before heading to the kitchen.  It was dark in the room so Cortez was startled when Quintina called out to him.

"Hey baby," Cortez said, turning to her.  Quintina slapped Cortez across his eyes hard enough to blind him.  He dropped everything to the floor and covered his face, "What the f...?"

"Since you love her so much, pack your shit and go over there," Quintina sneered.

"Quintina, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Tamesha.  Yeah, your girlfriend sent me a birthday present.  Let me show you."  Cortez followed her to their bedroom.

Quintina grabbed the remote and pressed play.  She turned the volume up.  Cortez rubbed his eyes and squinted at the tv.  His bloodshot eyes got big as goose eggs and then filled with tears.  "Baby..."

"I don't want to hear it.  Get out!"

"But this is my place."

Quintina pulled her gun from the shoe box, pointed it at Cortez and cocked it.  "You've got 15 minutes."  He hurriedly gathered as much as he could stuff in a gym bag and left.

After Cortez was gone, Quintina collapsed to the floor and began to sob.  She had no idea what she would do next.  The obvious choice was divorce but she wasn't sure if she really wanted to be completely through with Cortez yet.  She would give it some thought. 

Quintina moped around for about an hour then cleaned up all of the items that Cortez had dropped. Everything that was salvageable was stored away and the broken items were thrashed.  The flowers were fine but she shoved them into the garbage disposal.  She took a shower, got dressed in a flattering red dress and tried to camoflaug the bruises on her face.  Satisfied with her results, she called SaLynne and asked her if she wanted to go out.

"Sure, where do you want to go?"

"Some place where there are some fine men with real jobs."

"Uh oh. Sounds like Cortez is going to have some competition."

Quintina laughed out loud.  "Girl, you have no idea.  Come get me, I may not be able to drive home later."

"Quin, what's up with you?" SaLynne sounded puzzled.

"I'll tell you when you get here."