Well, It's Not Exactly EXTREME Couponing...

Some couponing info: Some of my neighbors know me well enough to just hand me their coupons if we meet at the mailbox. I'll also get extras from the post office that people throw on the table or on top of the recycle bin. Yes, these are typically more than I can use, but here are some things I've done lately:

1) My kids like the Dole Aguas Frescas. A 64 oz carton is $2. I cut out about 15 $1 off coupons and buy 3 at a time. They've been drinking them and making popsicles with them.

2) Leave the extras by the product in the store. For example, I cut out some $2 off L'oreal True Match face product coupons. There aren't many people of my complexion on this side of town, ahem, so the foundation and powder colors that match me like cappucino and nut brown were on clearance at HEB for under $6 (regularly $8-12). The pressed powders happened to be packaged with a free blush. So I got 2 liquid foundations, 2 powders, and 2 blushes for about $16 and left the rest of the coupons on the shelf.

3) Rose Art has a coupon for $1 off 3 or more of their products. Right now, you can get their glue and crayons and stuff for under 40 cents. The crayons are a quarter so I'm thinking I can get four packs free. The glue is 34 cents, so I can get 3 of them for 2 cents. Even if you don't have school age children, you can donate the stuff (that's my plan because I've collected SEVERAL of those).

4) Check for stores that are moving or going out of business or having clearance sales--I cleaned up at a Michael's out here last weekend. Lots of stuff deeply discounted, plus they had a 25% off your total purchase coupon. And when they have those 40 or 50% off one item coupons, I give everyone money and we all buy something, even four-year-old Deuce! Also, I got 4 collage picture frames, a butterfly for my wall, 3 potential centerpieces, numerous candles and other odds and ends at Kirkland's last weekend--my regular total would've been about $230. With clearance and a $25 off $75 coupon, I spent $54.17 with tax.

Yes coupons can be time consuming and can make you buy stuff you wouldn't ordinarily (I fall into that trap sometimes, I will admit), but they can also add up to big savings!

**Ooh, two of my biggest finds right now: 50 cents off Suave Deodorant and 50 cents off carefree, stayfree, and ob products. So you can get the small pack of carefree liners and the small container of Suave deodorant for under 50 cents.

What I Might Be

I've had these thoughts/quotes/ideas/lyrics/words that keep coming to me in the last two weeks. Because I am superstitious, I think I have discerned a pattern.

First, I heard the Lao Tzu quote, "When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."

Then, I took my 4-year-old nephew Deuce to the park and watched him attempt the monkey bars. I had a sad feeling suddenly because I remembered that I'd never learned to cross the monkey bars on my school playground. I'd always been too scared to let go of the one bar behind to grab hold of the next one in front.

On FaceBook, I read a friend proclaim, "I am working on being more audacious, shameless, & fearless. Love makes anything possible."

And I heard Erykah Badu croon to me on my Pandora station,

Bag lady you gone hurt your back
Dragging all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold on to
Is you, is you, is you

One day all them bags gone get in your way

...

Girl I know sometimes it's hard
And we can't let go

...

Bag lady
Let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go

So, I wanted to weave together some deep philosophical thoughts on these things--my feeling that I am being prompted to let some things go to make room for others, to release some of the past so that I may live in the present and dream BIG for my future.

But I'm sleepy and not particularly prosaic this week :-) I do know, however, that I am ready to start the journey to becoming what I might be.

Isn't that an amazing, intriguing, frightening, exhilarating thing--what I might be? I'm ready for a little fearlessness, too, for in the words of the beloved Audre Lorde, "I realize that if I wait until I am no longer afraid to act, write, speak, be, I'll be sending messages on a Ouija board, cryptic complaints from the other side."

What I might be... I don't know who she is, but I'll bet y'all ain't ready for her!

XOXOXO

Horror!

Today, so far:

7:00 AM Mama is moving around, preparing for Sunday school. I wake up and try, vainly, to go back to sleep

7:15-7:30 AM Mama and I talk and sip coffee. The big boys are all away and Deuce is sleep. I love quiet moments, even when it is MORNING.

7:31-7:45 AM I realize no sleep is forthcoming so I might as well get the day started. I take down meat to thaw for dinner, do some surface-level straightening up, and sort laundry.

7:46 AM As mentioned, the boys are not here. I have decided that my first load of laundry will be towels. I realize that I must bravely approach the area of their greatest science experiment: their bathroom. (Suspenseful music plays in the background. Largely in my head, but you get the drift).

7:47-7:54 AM I don my makeshift haz-mat suit which consists of a scarf to protect my hair from odors, a large towel to cover my mouth and nose, Mama’s reading glasses for my eyes, my black house shoes because they can be washed, a straightened wire hanger to lift anything that should not be touched by human hands, elbow-length gloves and the sense of steely determination that has gotten mothers through thousands of years of messy children. I take a deep breath—I dare not breathe once I venture beyond this innocuous looking door. I look back at my mother, a bit of fear slowing my steps. She nods encouragement, clasps her hands together and waits. I pull down my towel long enough to tell her I love her and I couldn’t have asked for a better mom. I want her to know that before I venture into the bowels of hell. Slowly I turn the knob.

7:54:32 AM As a good social scientist, I make quick observations to later record in this journal. The first was the scent for which neither my towel nor the artfully placed wallflower was any match. I am horrified to realize I didn’t even hold my breath 30 seconds. Note to social scientist self: work on stamina, girl. My eyes water beneath the glasses, but they still manage to take in carelessly tossed toothbrushes, four tubes of toothpaste, some purloined from my bathroom, the fiends! They squeeze them in the middle and then take more long before their tube has run out.

7:54:48 AM I ease past mounds of clothes toward the item which is the heart of their science experiment and the greatest source of my fear: their toilet. I look on in horror. I believe that, once, the linoleum surrounding it was the shame shade of white as that in my bathroom. It has taken on a strangely golden hue. I turn my head quickly, almost dive toward the tub and any towels.

7:55:01 AM The tub is strangely white compared to the rest of the once-white room. It’s almost as if… as if it is barely used! Imagine that!

7:55:05 AM I see towels. On the towel rack. On the side of the tub. Balled up into a corner that I dare not stretch to reach in case I slip and land on their almost-bronze floor. “Be brave!” I tell myself. I extend my hanger. After a few fruitless tries, I hook them. One by one, I fling them into the hallway.

7:56:15 AM I dash drunkenly from the bathroom, almost overcome… but… alas… I am safe! My mama sighs her relief--I hold up my hands as she approaches me. I dare not let her touch me. “Oh, daughter,” she says, tears shining in her eyes, “I have never been more proud of you than I am at this moment!” I know that is what she said, but muffled by the towel, it sounded a lot like, “Girl, pick them towels up and take them in the laundry room!”

8:00-8:05 AM I deposit the towels in the washer, add a bottle of detergent, a half-gallon of bleach, some baking soda and pine oil. I turn the water to hot. I run to my bathroom, carefully strip out of my protective gear, and put it in a plastic bag to de-contaminate later. I turn the shower on as hot as my skin can stand. I wash with Dial, with Nivea, with vinegar, then Dial again. Finally, I emerge, checking myself for any symptoms.

8:20 AM I direct Mama to watch me carefully for the next 24-hours for any signs that I have contracted a dread disease. She does not seem to understand the seriousness. She kisses me and leaves for Sunday school. I must now monitor myself… Hopefully, Journal, this will NOT be my last entry.

Stay tuned.

Reason #43790 mama is going to kill all of us...

She has said emphatically that no more dogs can come here. She's gone too much. The kids don't help like they say they will. The adults don't come take care of them as they should.

But...

the other day my nephew went to take the trash to the dumpster and he found three itty-bitty puppies that someone had left there. Of course he had to bring the bedraggled little things home. Their ribs were showing.

Mama wasn't here. I was all, "Oh, no. WE CANNOT HAVE DOGS. You have to take them somewhere... as soon as you feed them and give them some water. But then immediately!!!"

And I resolved to ignore the puppies. Maybe just look at them out the door. Or, pet them only once. Use a really old pan to give them water. Buy just one bag of puppy food because they wouldn't be here long. They couldn't be--my nephew and I are both going back off to college in 3 weeks.

Then, Mama made it home. She fussed and huffed and shook her head. NO NEW DOGS.

Last night, as we were driving home, she outlined her very good reasons. Three dogs are too expensive on her fixed income. They need vet visits immediately. We don't have a doghouse anymore and it is blazing-ly hot (My mama is very much "Animals belong outside!!!" We used to get in the most trouble for smuggling puppies in because we figured they were too cold or too hot or too lonely. That's the reason this post is titled as it is; as you can see from the picture, Deuce is carrying on the smuggling them in when Mama is gone tradition :-). She's on the go several days out of the month. I nodded along. It's not like I'm going to volunteer to take 3 dogs back to my apartment, so fair is only fair.

We pulled up in the yard. She looked at the puppies. She looked at me. She looked at the puppies. She looked back at me. "You know if you've started feeding those dogs, they're going to want to stay."

Me, meekly: "Yes ma'am."

She shook her head and got out. "Feed the puppies. They're little enough already. But we are not keeping those dogs!"

Yes, we're all suckers.
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Seriously, we're in a rural area where we can't just run them to a shelter or a pound. Abandoned animals are just abandoned here. I have no idea what we're going to do. We won't just turn them out but we really can't keep them. My nephew is hoping that his other grandmother might have mercy on all of us bleeding hearts and take them in--she lives out in the country and already has some dogs.

Deuce in Boots

Cutest just-turned-two-years-old in the world. Happy belated birthday, sugar!

I'm Loving My 9-Year-Old Nephew with the Intensity of a Thousand Suns

I know I talk a lot about Deuce--the new-baby-ness hasn't worn off in 18 months, apparently.

But his older brother, the kid whom I co-parented for a while, the kid who knows me like the back of his hand, is also incredibly close to my heart.

He does things like call me from Louisiana when shows he knows I like are on TV.

One day, in a buffet-style restaurant, he presented me with a caramel sundae he'd made, just because he's seen me order them before. It was the best one ever.

He calls me every Saturday that my alma mater plays to tell me game time. He just called to tell me, "We're winning now!"

I don't know many kids who are as detail-oriented and observant as he. It's like his mind is a catalogue, and he's carefully tucking away things he notices about what people like, what makes them happy.

And I know some of you think you have pretty cool little relatives...

But, I swear I have the best one.

Random Observations

Now that Tiny and Kandi are trying out reality TV, when will LaTocha and Tamika Scott get their chance?

I watched "The Real Housewives of Atlanta" last night and thought it illustrated how precarious our economic situation is--the so-called difference between being "rich" and being "wealthy." I haven't watched any of the other "Housewives" shows, so I wonder if any of them have Sheree's problem of looming foreclosure or if the kind of rumor that circles NeNe's husband, Gregg (that he's broke/about to be broke), are spread about the other husbands.

mrs. o and my sister don't have Bravo as part of their cable packages and were hatin' on me last night. :-p

I'm having an allergy attack that causes mad itching, then mad scratching, and then hives and redness that make me look like I frolicked through a glade of poison ivy or something.

Summer school's almost over!!!!

My darling Kimberly got sucked in by HGTV's promises that yes, you can DIY!!! and has been painting for about 22 years now. :-) A short excerpt of a recent FB chat:

Kim: Do you watch HGTV?

elle: ummm... no.

Kim: DON'T! It's the debil.

elle: LMAO!! That's how Lowe's and them get you!

Speaking of which, one of my grad students offered a pretty good critique of Lowe's, Home Depot, et. al., advertising which purports to turn stereotypes on their head (by insisting women don't need a "handyman" or portraying women as the real decision makers behind home improvements). She thinks they support those stereotypes by either 1) positioning themselves as the exception or 2) expecting people to find it humorous that the companies have "switched" the gender roles.

I think this is a fine example of splitting hairs: "I didn't call you jungle momkey, the noun; I only used it as an ADJECTIVE to describe your behavior and writing!" For some reason, it reminds me of people I've met who claim "the n-word" can be used to described people of any color who possess certain "immoral" or "less-than-industrious" qualities. How do you say "You're missing the point" to people like that?

And, btw, can someone point Mr. "Yes-I-Used-Jungle Monkey Pejoratively* but I'm not a Racist" to a racism 101 course... or a bingo card... or J. Smooth?

I'm still thinking a lot about Michael Jackson.

As of today, I haven't seen my kid in three weeks. Longest time ever!

I had a phone conversation with Deuce last night. Well... in the sense that he understands a "question voice" and pause means it's his turn to babble.

Okay. Must slather myself with Benadryl Cream and pray no one comes by the office!

Catch My Breath

Daddy and Deuce 9 June 2009

This is not a good week. I am behind on my interview schedule. I am trying to wrap up the presentation-that-shouldn't-be-a-paper for next week's conference. I am coordinating a baby shower.

And mostly, I am being really, really quiet about my dad. He's been in the hospital for a few weeks now. He complained of a sore foot for a while. The local clinic took his word that it was his gout and prescribed a pain medicine. The people at the dialysis clinic took one look at it, discovered a badly infected sore, and sent him to a hospital. The people at the hospital were bothered by the look and smell of it and sent him to a VA hospital.

They tried antibiotics, then amputated two of his toes and some of the padding on the bottom of his foot.

He is a diabetic, with kidney failure, and congestive heart failure and he still smokes. His circulation is much lower than poor. The site of the amputation is not healing because of inadequate circulation. Today he told us, "They're going to have to amputate it." I thought he meant his foot, which was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

A few more minutes into the conversation, I realized he meant his leg from below the knee down. I stood at the sink in his room, washing my hands, and telling myself, "He is trying to be calm. Don't you dare start crying. Don't you dare."

I am already feeling the guilt of having made a wholly inappropriate and probably hurtful comment. The doctors had been asking him, since the discovery of the sore, had he stepped on something. He said no, because to his knowledge, he hadn't. A few days after he was hospitalized, my nephew discovered a nail in his shoe. I told him in a teasing way, "Daddy, I done cussed you out! You know you have to be careful with your feet."

It was a little flippant remark on my part. A couple of days later, when we were on the phone, he said something to the effect of, "I can't keep beating myself up, but I was supposed to have a mirror and check my feet."

He didn't need my little inconsiderate comment, because he's been "cussing" himself out, feeling guilty and sad. And I've been thinking, "Why did I say that?"

There's also the fact that my dad is usually this stoic person--when he's been in the hospital before, we've been distraught and worried about getting to see him and he always says things like, "You have a life, a job, kids, etc, don't worry about me," as if that's possible.

But this time, he's been very open about being lonely, a hundred miles away from home (and more than 400 away from me). He was ready for me to come home. Sometimes when I call, he'll sound so tired and I'll say something like, "Daddy, I don't want to wear you out." And a couple of times he's said, "I'm okay. Just talk to Daddy for a few minutes," and I know he's bored and lonely and worried. I talked to my dad for 40 minutes on the phone last week; I don't know if that's ever happened.

I can see the sadness and I wonder if he's thinking about his mortality--he's already older than his father and two of his brothers were when they died. He's worried about walking again and having to go to a nursing home if we can't get the house right.

And I'm worried, worried, worried, too. I have to leave Sunday because my son is going to summer school for math and I have that conference. Honestly, I'd say fuck summer school because he's going to fifth grade anyway, but he has struggled with math since pre-K and he only met three of four standards in math this year, even though he passed it for the year with a B. Multi-step word problems give him fits. He can't miss more than three days or he will be considered a non-completer. The three days I decided he could miss were June 9-11, so I could have some time at home.

Then, he's in summer school until July 2 and I start teaching summer school July 6. When will I have a moment to travel again? My car has 154,000 miles on it, but I can't afford to just up and by two plane tickets to a small rural airport with short notice. There's also the fact that the drive, at least 8.5 hours, by myself, is a bit much for me these days. But how can I not be here for my father's major surgery?

And the conference, my God, I'm cobbling that together bit by bit, but can I be unprofessional for a moment and say that, right now, it seems like the most inconvenient thing in the world to me? My heart is not there. I feel guilty about that as well, because they're paying me a significant sum for a day's work (ok, more than a day, when you count prep, but you know what I mean).

Then there's summer school, which I feel mostly prepared for. But the fall! Two new preps! I've only begun to fight!

I know I'm all over the place, but I needed to vent. I don't know whether I'm coming or going, I swear. I'm just resolved not to cry because if I start, I will not stop until I have a headache that further complicates things.

Even as I type this, I'm trying to put it together in my head. Today is just Wednesday. I can stop dreading this conference, flesh out the admittedly good outline I've already done (the presentation is only 20 minutes and I'm supposed to encourage the participants to engage. Then, the 30-minute workshop I lead afterward will be on how to use related primary source documents). I can do two interviews tomorrow rather than one. I can get someone else to assemble favor bags for the shower. I have lots of help, and we've already done 90% of the work.

But right now, I don't want to be calm. I want to say all the shit that is plaguing me.

Please think of my dad.

The Long OverDeuce Update

Deuce is practically an old man now--going on 13 months. Can y'all believe it? Anyway, I have pics from 11-12 months that I've been meaning to post forever!

Here he is, refusing to let me take something out of his mouth:



With his "big" cousin:





I realized that he's always braided up and I wanted to see his hair down!







Why, no, auntie couldn't braid my hair back; she can't even make a straight part!



Things Deuce loves:

Drinking juice boxes (and yes, I think it's the cutest thing in the world!)



Playing the scary sock-devouring monster from the black lagoon!!



Footses



Knocking down and destroying picture frames





Things auntie elle loves:

Deuce

Someone Is Almost 9 Months Old...

Deuce and my mom are visiting. I have been unable to get an awake picture because he moves so much! It's hard on this old body keeping up. Here he is, pulling up so that he can type on my laptop. Notice that his face is a blur:



The only time he's still:



He'll be nine months old on the 17th. In addition to pulling up on everything (which he's been doing for several weeks now), he's learned to dance in the last month. I totally humiliate myself singing self-composed works just to get him to flap his arms and laugh.

Teh Cuteness, It Burns!!

This just might be my favorite pic of Deuce so far, post-lunch.

Sleeping it off.

With Coti

With Shaquille

Best Birthday Present Ever!

auntie elle & DEUCE!!!

My family made it here yesterday! We met in Houston and had a late lunch with Kim before driving back here. My mother and sister are cooking a soul food dinner for us and I'm going make myself a cake.

Happy birthday, me!!!!

Gearing up for the Holidays

Deuce, with Alex, in Coti's hat

Two days before he turns seven months old and one week until I see him!! I am so ready for my Deucie-Deucie-Fat-and-Juicy (and yes, I call him that in my head, for real).

Anyway, the time between now and January 2 will pass in a busy blur (hopefully, a pleasant, busy blur) for me with Thanksgiving, finals, graduation, archive visit, Christmas, and New Year's intoxication all looming. I'm currently getting ready for my mom, sister, brother and sister-in-law and kids for Thanksgiving. Hectic, but okay.

Anyway, are you celebrating Thanksgiving? If so, how? And, (the important question :-) what are you cooking??

Sunday Best

Deuce, 8 days shy of 7 months old. That's Alex holding him. Lucky her.



I am so ready to see this baby. I know that I'm going to irritate the hell out of him.

Belated Halloween Treats

As usual, I don't have a picture of my own kid in Halloween regalia (yet) as he spent the night with a friend. Here's some scrumptiousness that I do have, though.

My two-year-old goddaughter Alani:



mrs. o sent this pic of her baby boy with the caption, "This is the cutest pumpkin in the world":



Kim's baby as the Flash. Look at those cheeks:



Kim's older son as Wolverine:



And Coti sent me this not-so-good pic of Deuce with the applicable name "Little Devil." Bad pic, but I haven't had him on here since he was four months old and now he's six-and-a-half months! I promise to get pics when they come at Thanksgiving.

If These *&%$#@ Teeth Don't Hurry Up!

I'm going to eat my fist whole.

Signed,

Deuce

Someone Is Three Months Old Today...

Happy sorta-birthday, Deuce. I wish y'all could hear mrs. o sitting here singing "Hey, Baby; I'm Tired, Baby" to him over and over. It's an original composition and, much like her best friend, singing is not her primary talent.

Sorry for the not-best-quality pics. I broke my digital camera and my cell phone cameras always get blurry. Anyway, you can still see the cuteness on these four.

Little Master Deuce

Yes, he will punch your lights out.

Okay, I've waited until the last minute again, so this will stay on top this week. My nephew, Deuce, is in a "Little Master" Pageant that culminates next Sunday (June 15). One of the things contestants are doing is raising money to help fund a new community center in my hometown. The center is needed desperately as the old one--built quite generously by a certain ex-NBA player from the area--has been taken over by a board of people who are hesitant to let people use it, particularly our youth, because they fear it will be damaged or people will "make too much noise."

There is very little for our kids to do outside of school activities and we want desperately to change that. Because I blog pseudonymously, I'm not posting up locations, etc, here, but I'm perfectly willing to tell you more via e-mail.

In any case, if you'd like to donate, please do so via Paypal. No amount is too small.

**If the donate button below won't work, please use the one in the right sidebar. I'm too tired to keep trying to fix it.**

Because Summer School Starts Tomorrow...

...Ugh! I just finished grading last week. Anyway, here are some pics of my newest nephew Deuce and the rest of the fam while I prep.

Cuddling with Coti

And again

Sitting with Quanta and Belle

auntie elle and he are both sleepy

Ready to go... as soon as the straps are adjusted, AGAIN!

Quality time with big brother

Favorite pasttime

Chilling with Mama

Sleepy again

Mama, posing

Really?

Coti and Deuce

My friend Coti works as a correctional officer. She has some... interesting co-workers. She called me the other night, mid-shift, to tell me about one guy and to let me hear him talk.

This particular co-worker decided to take it upon himself to explain to her how this country's major problems are caused by "homosexuals taking over the world." He tried to cite biblical evidence and opined at length about how being gay is wrong and immoral.

Now, Coti is a lesbian, a self-identified "stud," so I was pissed that the co-worker would even approach her with that bullshit.* But she is rather soft-spoken, so she listened to his lecture with an admirable level of patience.

She is also wickedly sarcastic. And so, when he was done, she had him reiterate his definition of immoral that was supposedly rooted in biblical text.

Then she asked him, "Aren't you living with a married woman?"

After a momentary loss of words, he tried to explain why his situation, of course, was justifiable.

But I never cease to be amazed at people's nerve, hypocrisy, and interpretive skills.
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*Which is not to say, as I re-read this, that I wouldn't have been pissed had he approached anyone else with this, but that it seemed to me to be a sort of attack upon her.