The most wonderful Halloween of my memory was October 31, 1987. I had a son, Louis, and he turns 19 today. He is in college at the University of Minnesota, on a full academic scholarship. The fruit of my loin is not only fine as hell, but smart too.

I LOVE YOU LOUIS, Happy Halloween Birthday son

I wrote this for a blog over at another site sometime last summer, and thought it such a funny and true story, that I would share it with my friends over here.........

Certainly, you would never imagine your worst blind date turning out to be one of your best. I am not too fond of the blind date scenario, but if arranged by someone you love, and who cares about your happiness......well I have one for the record books.

Recently, within the past 3 years, I became very "single" - children left the nest. I am a single mom therefore, I use the term single loosely. I have tried to become interactive again in the dating world. It has been hit & miss as far as making a connection of any kind, and I have yet to find Mr. Right, if he even exists in my world.

One of my closest friends suggested I meet a friend of hers because she thought we would hit it off. She gave him my phone number and we spoke quite a few times on the phone before making arrangements to meet. We did connect on the intellectual level and the humor was contagious between us. I love laughter and when you get that silly, gut-wrenching type laughter where you have tears rolling down your face and your jaws hurt, you include that in your rating of your possible mate.

We arranged for him to drive up to my home. I live in a rural country setting and he lives in a huge city about 300 miles from my home. Now, if he is willing to drive all that way to the country to meet me........more points on the ratings meter. I provided what I thought were the simplest most perfect directions and he did the whole Mapquest thing, so all I have to do is await his arrival.

He calls routinely throughout the trip to ensure he is on the right path. The final call comes and he is only 1/2 hour away....... anticipation grows. An hour has passed, I hear nothing. I am anxious, I am nervous and I am frightened something has happened. It is very early in the morning and being way up here in the country if you are in trouble NOTHING is open at that hour on a Saturday morning. I get in my car and head in his direction - has he gone in the ditch, has he run out of gas, does he have a flat tire? Thank God, it is summertime and there is no snow on the ground. I travel about 1/2 hour in his direction, which almost takes me to the exact point of his exit from the highway and I see nothing to suggest mishap. I travel back home and wait. I call my girlfriend and she has heard nothing. I call his cell many times and what the heck am I thinking, there is absolutely NO reception after a certain point from the highway to my home. I fall asleep. The phone wakes me, now three hours later and I hear his voice. WHEW!! I start to cry and I ask him what happened and where is he. He asks me to come get him in a town that is about 45 miles FARTHER WEST of my home and I think he said he was at the Shell Station on the highway. I think I know exactly where that is, as I am familiar with that particular town.

Now, my mind is racing....WTF?? How the hell did he PASS my town straight through to 4 or 5 towns west of where I live. I am completely dumfounded. I get in my car and race to get him. Once in the small town I stop at the first gas station on the highway and ask where the Shell Station is. The lady tells me there hasn't been a Shell Station in that town for many years. I am like hell naw, now what the fukk to do. I sit in my car and wait awhile and the phone rings again. It is him and I said I am looking for the Shell Station and he retorts...."no baby, I said J.A.I.L." Yes, you read that correct, jail. I said how the hell you end up in jail. This would be the "worst" part.

I had to go inside that jail and get his ass. Now, you should know I work for the law and I may have had contact with some of these people at the Sheriffs Department. I am embarrassed as hell to walk in there and ask for a person I have NEVER met. The deputies were crackin up at the fact that I was at the jail to pick up my blind date. I was PISSED to say the least. I was gonna blast his gotdamn ass and I was really thinking about leaving him there. I called my girlfriend and screamed on her big time and she was pleading with me not to leave him in jail. Needless to say, I agreed to sign him out (without bail, of course). And while filling out the forms, I noted on the sheet......OWI .17 That nicca was drunk as hell, drinking all the while driving up here to see me. The anger has me sick, I have to find a chair quickly because I'm about to faint. I sit in the chair and cry. I quickly regain my composure because I have to cuss this man out and put him on a bus back to wherever the hell he came from.

The jailer walks down the hall with the FINEST muhfukka I have seen in a long ass time. Dayyyuuummm, that M.F. is fine as hell. LOL I can't stop crying and laughing at the same damn time. My mind must be playing tricks on me because I WANT him so bad, but how can that be? I know he is all wrong - I am picking his ass up from JAIL. Now, keep in mind this girl had some needs that had not been met for almost 3 years, and Stella definitely had to get her groove back. I took him back to my home and we ended up having the best weekend ever. And, that package - oh my! What a package he was handling. After I had my fill of him, and of course his package, I took him back to his vehicle to return from whence he came. The rest is, as they say, HISTORY.

My dream catcher hasn’t been working that well lately. I have had it for 10 plus years and maybe it has caught so many of my nightmares, sifted through the good ones and sent the bad ones through the hole, that I might need to let it rest. Although my dreams are not as scary as they used to be, they are still very weird and vivid, like mini-clips of stories of someone’s (maybe mine) funky life.

I dream in living color and wake up feeling like I have actually just lived in that little clip of the funky life. I awaken from those dreams feeling very groggy and sluggish as if I am in a fog. It takes a good hot shower to get me up and alive and motivated for my day.

Today is one of those days, and ya girl needed extra boost to make it out the door this morning. So, I grabbed my stones………..

I live in Northern Wisconsin and am surrounded by Native American land, Chequamegon National Forest, Indian Reservation, very spiritual grounds. I have always been fascinated by the Native culture. I have many friends who are Native American and my paternal grandmother was half Indian, I believe Ojibwe or Sioux.

A few years back, a friend of mine took me to a Pow Wow and it was awesome. At the end of the Pow Wow, they invite you to join in the dance. That was one of the best experiences I have had and it was a lot of fun. I have also attended an Indian healing ceremony for one of my girlfriends who was going through a rough patch in her life. That was so moving and I think I got cleansed myself. If you ever get the chance to experience any type of ceremony which involves Native healing, partake……….. you won’t regret it.

Anyway, after the Pow Wow I was headed to my car and stopped by one of the booths to see what they had which might interest me. There was an Indian Chief in full headdress sitting at the back of one of the tables and he had a basket full of stones in front of him. I walked up and asked if I could buy one of the stones. He gave me a gentle nod. I found a smooth purple stone which had little flecks of gray throughout. I handed it to the Chief and he held onto my hand for a moment and said a little prayer of some kind then dropped my stone into a tiny velvet bag and tied the string. He said that I should never allow another to touch my stone and when I felt the need for strength that I should put the stone in my pocket and touch it throughout the day.

Unbeknownst to me, my friend was also getting me a gift at a different booth. As we were walking back to the car, she handed me another little pouch which had a Hematite stone in it. So, today ol’ girl is fully loaded with armor. I have my Hematite stone around my neck. My purple stone in my pocket and am also wearing my Tiger’s Eye earrings.

When I walked out the door this morning, I felt a virtual calm over my whole body, and it may be “all in my head” but isn’t that where all our powers lie??!!

Is it me, or shouldn’t there be some rule about hazardous materials at your place of employment. Ya'll don't know it but inside every person is their imaginary friend.

A friend of mine.......works in an office of only 4 people. My friend, the boss, two other employees. The office is not large and the three offices are directly surrounding my friend's area.

One office is occupied by a person who keeps the door closed, cool.

One office is occupied by the boss, and that office is cool.

The office in question is occupied by a person who gasses my friend out. That person belches, farts, coughs, sneezes and houses a breeding ground for infestation. Rotted food is left for days. There is a stench that emanates from that office, which is so ghastly that my friend has to hold her breath if she enters. My friend thinks there should be a sign on the door which reads:

“Danger, hazardous material, enter at your own risk”

My friend has sprays, candles and an increasing ability to not breath for extended periods of time.

I thought there was some OSHA regulation that promoted a safe work environment.

Reference: OSHA is the main federal agency charged with the enforcement of safety and health legislation.

I just love my friend..................

High Maintenance? What in the hell is that? If a woman takes good care of herself and pampers herself regularly – does that mean she is high maintenance.

This shit is MY maintenance.

I had a “blind date” a while back with a man I met online. We talked for almost two months and I thought we had developed a nice friendship, albeit long distance. We made plans to meet some place neutral and cut the distance in half for both of us. At first, I thought dude was not the finest looking brotha I had seen by the pictures we exchanged, but I thought it was time to let the “not.so.fine” ones have a chance at my magnificence. Hell, who am I to judge.

When we finally met in person, I was pleasantly surprised because he wasn’t so bad after all. He was a “large” brotha, which is my preference, as long as every thing is in its place, yanno. We spent quality time with each other and chatted over dinner, played pool, laughed a lot and even petted some. He scored major points by opening doors for me and being a gentleman throughout the evening. It didn’t hurt his points neither by that smooth ass ride he was in……. a candy apple red, 2006 Cadillac. I looked damn good in that, let me tell ya’ll.

Things turned sour at the point of him telling me that I was “a high maintenance sista” when he noticed my feet. He said it all like “oh, I see you high maintenance”………..”I may not have enough money in my pocket for a woman like you.” What.n.d.hell?? Who taught him communication skills? He certainly didn’t pass that particular class. No wonder that fool went home without nooky.

Are women of the 21st Century still faking orgasms? Why would we feel the need to perpetrate such fraud? Can it be possible that we as women are still not comfortable or secure enough to demand sexual fulfilment from our partners. If so, what can we do to change this?

There's just sumn about good 'ol down home soulful love that can kick you right out of a borderline depression spiral, with quickness.

A few weeks back, I was missing my family down south in Georgia (my new found family), and had been on the edge of depression for a few days. I could feel it and taste it. Believe me when I say that I could taste it, because I literally get this nasty taste in my mouth when I know its gonna be a bad day.

In order to curb that enthusiasm (lol) - I have found ways to nip it in the bud with a simple phone call to someone I love, because I know they gon say or do something that will snap me back to reality real quick. They don't play down south.

My mother and my "poppa" live in Columbus, GA. They are real true down home folk. My "poppa" is a large brotha, who can dress his butt off and walks around with this huge stogie in his mouth (which he rarely lights, but chews on). He has this deep guttural voice and drawls his words with a southern twang that is quite intoxicating. I simply love to sit and listen to him talk.

Sometimes when I call to talk to my mom, poppa will pick up the phone and I can catch him in a sleep-like daze (he sits in his large recliner and dozes, or um, cough..... rests his eyes). I like to mess with him when he is like that. I will ask for someone else and poppa will say with this mean mug (I can see it now) "Joe Blow don't live round here" and I crack the hell up.

This particular morning was prime. I call, poppa answers, I ask for Walter. Poppa inquires "Walter who?" I retort "Payton." Poppa states with clarity "Walter Payton don't live round here!" There is a dead silence. Then I say "well, let me speak to my mama." Poppa (who has now regained consciousness) says to me "Jackie, girl, I'm gon cut yo thoat (he does not say throat, but rather drawls the word THOAT). I am sitting in the B.P. parking lot waiting to get my caffeine fix on and I am hollering so loud people begin to stare at my car. I said "Poppa, I love you so much" and he said "you too babe." By the time I got to speak to my mama, it was time to go (she hates that, when poppa and I do our exchange before she gets a chance to speak to me, its that jealousy thang, yanno). Anyway, I told her I love her and that I would call her back later. I began to tell her about how depressed I was feeling up until 5 minutes ago, and she said I didn't need no therapist, they could handle my depression anytime. LOL

This I know for sure.

Finding my birth mother after almost four decades of separation was one of my most emotional experiences. Not only was I finally able to understand some of the reasons for my turbulent childhood, I also found answers to questions about health concerns. I was about 3 or 4 years old and the oldest of their three children when my parents divorced in the early 1960s. My father was in the Army and we were probably living in Alabama or Georgia when he took us from our mother.

After moving to California to be close to members of his family, my father placed me and one brother in foster care. My youngest brother was diagnosed with leukemia and died at the age of 3 years. I don't think my father wanted us, but he took us to punish our mother. He moved to Minnesota and remarried then came back to California and took us to live with him and his new wife. Although my stepmother was kind, my daddy remained mean and spiteful. When I was 16 years old, I began living on my own. After my daddy died in 1982, I kept in contact with my stepmother but I was troubled by many unanswered questions.

I wondered why my mother had not tried to keep us or find us. I was very stressed and suffered from depression. I moved from Minneapolis to Wisconsin and accepted employment as a legal secretary. In 1998, due to medical concerns and the desire to see if I might be able to locate my birth mother, I contacted my local county veterans service office. Since I worked in the county courthouse and knew the veteran’s officer, I felt comfortable talking to him. I told him that my father had been in the Army but all I had was my birth certificate. It listed my mother's name and age, but I didn't know her date of birth. Within two weeks, he had located my father's military records.

I was able to obtain information about my parents marriage and divorce, but because my mother's name was misspelled in the Army records, I was unable to learn more about her. I also discovered that records of our foster placements in California had been destroyed. While my own search was proving to be difficult, I often enjoyed watching family reunion stories on television. A particular favorite was the Montel Williams Show and I obtained a copy of the book, "You, Too, Can Find Anyone," by Joe Culligan, that Williams often referenced. Using the book helped me learn where to look for more information, but I could not find what I needed to locate my mother.

I was so frustrated because I was sending out so many letters and couldn't seem to get any new information. Finally, although the idea depressed me, I just decided to stop looking. However, a good friend of mine who liked surfing the Internet, continued the search by computer. When my sons and I returned from our annual visit to a friend's home during the Thanksgiving holiday in 1999, I found out that my friend had located the name and telephone number of a woman matching my mother’s description in Georgia. I didn't think it possible that she could actually be my mother and joked with my friend for a while about what I would possibly say if I called her.

My friend told me I had nothing to lose by making a phone call. Finally, I decided to take a chance. So I called the number and asked the woman who answered the phone what her maiden name was. When the woman responded, "Is that you, Jackie?" - we both became totally hysterical and overwhelmed and it took several minutes to stop crying and be able to speak again. I found myself on the floor in tears and my friend (who also was crying) had to pick me up from the floor. I couldn't believe that I hadn't even told her my name and she knew right away who I was. The feeling was so unbelievable and overwhelming that I had to stop the conversation and I told her I would call her back after I could compose myself.

{To be continued.....}

Recently, I was asked this question from a ‘man-friend’ on another site:

“How does a woman have a wet dream?”

I suppose he asked me this question because I posted a response to one of his blog posts regarding him having a wet dream. My response post to him was something along the lines that having a wet dream does not only happen to guys.

Here is my reply to his question regarding women and wet dreams:

Well, first of all I can't speak for ALL women, only me. I am not a "squirter" so to speak, but I do get creamy. The other night, I had an erotic dream, I actually felt like I was having an orgasm in the dream and it woke me up. I was not humpin the bed or pillow - I was actually laying on my back with my legs spread (I assume the dude was lickin my clit) and I felt that tightness in my belly and it felt like a real one. Anyway when I rubbed my spot, I was definitely creamy all up in there............so, to me that was a wet dream. I lay there in amazement, and it has happened to me before. I absolutely get NONE, hardly ever..... so my dreams are what I live for.

I am posting this because I felt like it was a good conversational piece. I invite response, only if you feel the need or urge to comment, not mandated. LOL

I also wonder if I am alone in this – or are there women out there that agree having a wet dream does not only apply to men.

Ok, my Nubian Queens, don’t be hatin on a sista for dating outside her race, because I have in the past and probably will again in the future.

I live in a very secluded rural northern Wisconsin town (actually, it’s a Village) and my choices are quite scant.

Lately, tho………I have been on a mission to find a brotha who can satisfy my needs and leave his drama somewhere other than on my doorstep, but finding that a mission impossible.

You would think that what I have to offer would be in great demand by any man in his right mind: a successful, self-sufficient woman who owns her home and property surrounding it (ladies, owning land is an asset even if you don’t have shit on it other than a bunch of trees to seclude your domain from anything that is not on four legs); a woman who does not want to get married or want to have a man around 24/7; a woman who does not NEED anything from a man monetarily; a woman who is smart, funny, fun and attractive; a woman with excellent transportation and willing to take that shit on the road; a woman who has a libido in overdrive and an insatiable appetite; a woman who doesn’t mind knowing that the brotha has other CAT besides mine (which is the bestest, I might add) LOL

Why is it so damn hard to find a black man who has all of the above, AND a magic stick??

I continually run across brothas who ain’t got no ride, no cash, no home, a bunch of Bebe’s kids but be fine as hell and a stick that does more than magic with a smooth ass con that would put the smartest Nigerian to shame.

Nigerian Reference: http://www.nigerianscams.org/

Or I find a brotha who does have all of the above, but be ugly as hell and a little wrinkled piece with fuzz nuts!!

Dang, can someone tell me where to find that ONE brotha – total package. Does he exist?? I am finding that hard to conceive.

Which brings me back to my opening statement. So, last night I had this dream and I am wondering what it means. I am sitting on my bed naked, just out of the shower and applying lotion to my body. I am in a building that is tall and my window overlooks the land. All of a sudden I notice out in the field a 'white man' standing there gazing up at me and I feel like he can see me even though he is waaaaay down there on the ground. He has the appearance of someone I know and I begin this erotic display of applying the lotion to my body as I lay there across my bed. Once in a while I glance over to the window and I can see him watch me and he becomes aroused. Why did he appear in my dream as a WHITE MALE?? I am not looking for a white man, I want and desire a black man.

I realize that my major obstacle happens to be geography, but out there somewhere is a black man who fits the requisite criteria. Just tell me HOW to find him and I will handle the rest.

BRUTALITY IS DEFINITELY NOT ACCEPTABLE

Certain phrases excite and alarm me. That is, when I hear them, I respond as if I have smelled gas escaping in a closed room. Without having to think of my next move, if I am not hemmed in, I make my way toward the handiest exit. If I cannot escape, however, I react defensively.

“Don’t mind me, I’m brutally frank.” That is always a summons to arms.

I recognize the timid sadist who would like to throw a stone and hide her hand or, better, who would like not only to wound but to be forgiven by the soon-to-be-injured even before the injury.

Well, I do mind brutality in any of its guises, and I will not be lured into accepting it merely because the brute asks me to do so.

“I hope you won’t take this the wrong way…” is another bell ringer for me.

I sense the mealy-mouthed attacker approaching so if I cannot flee, I explain in no uncertain voice if there is even the slightest chance that I might take a statement the wrong way, be assured that I will do so. I advise the speaker that it would be better to remain silent than to try to collect the speaker’s bruised feelings, which I intend to leave in pieces scattered on the floor.

I am never proud to participate in violence, yet I know that each of us must care enough for ourselves to be ready and able to come to our own self-defense.

Maya Angelou

Women take note......

Don't be afraid to ask for what you want out of a relationship, no matter who that relationship is with.

Don't settle for anything - accept 100% of everything.

Don't worry about what other's may think of you if you are living your life how you see fit.

Don't do what doesn't feel right, listen to your inner voice.

Don't be afraid to be a Diva..........Diva's rule.

I am shocked at all the Nigerian "love scams" taking place over the internet. Working with the law as I do, I see quite a few elderly people who fall victim to the predators who scam them out of thousands of dollars. They receive a letter in the mail saying they have "won" a certain amount of money and all they need to do is supply them with their bank information and BAM, they are totally broke. I am appalled. Recently, I saw an episode of Dr. Phil and he had two women on there who were totally scammed by the Nigerian love scheme and I think that appalled me more than the fraudulent acts upon the elderly. These women were total suckers!! I mean, c'mon...... I am a single woman with absolutely no man in my life (that is, until I want one, hehehehe) and I would neva fall for such a scam. How can women today be so stoopid!!

There needs to be a site created like that "don'tdatehimgirl.com" site which posts written emails from scammers, verbatim, so that when an unsuspecting poor hapless desperate housewife receives a note from one of those Nigerian muhfukkas, she can quickly jump over to that site and check out some of the things that foo might say to her and she can respond to him with a shot of her own venom and save herself much grief, and loot. Maybe even post some of the pictures these Nigerians are using.......er, um, stealing and using......to lure these women.

How bout I get it started, as I received this today in my email:

HIM:
I'm Kevin from New york(Brooklyn city),Well im single and never married. I'm a building contractor and have been transfer to west africa for contract,Well i will be back to state asoon as my contract is over,Probably this my last trip cause i want to settle down and treat my woman like queen.(Maybe you),I also want you to know that i dont have time for games player. I'm sensitive, very active, intelligent, kind and caring, honest and sincere, understanding and reliable.I have a good sense of humour and I like to be with interesting people. I am an outgoingperson. I am romantic and I like dinners with nice woman , quiet evenings at home with a glass of wine, music by the fire and someone special.I value someone who is responsible, reliable, strong, open-minded, who has a strong sense of ethics or morality, who is family-oriented, intelligent, exciting, kind, who knows how to spoil his special man .I am looking for someone special to be with for the rest of my life. I am not a gameplayer and I don't want to waste somebody's time on games. I want to be with my future woman all the time, to surround her with Love and I want to be very happy withher and live together.Let's talk and see where it leads Well i want you to know that im not games player and i will be very happy to know more about you ok. My email address is honest4realman4love@yahoo.com Kevin

ME:
Yes, thank you for the note Kevin. I just watched a Dr. Phil show and they had a picture of a guy who looks just like your picture. And, by the way - I would assume that is NOT even your picture and that in about a month you will be asking me for money to return to the U.S. - NO THANKS. good luck in your search for a foolish woman to fall for your Nigerian Fraud!!