بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beautiful and Beloved Asiatic Black Sisters & Brothers

I know it’s been a minute since I’ve “checked in,” but I learnt from Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington, that it’s okay to take some time and gather your thoughts before writing about something.

However, before I get to my latest escapades…

*Somebody little, one of my children, no doubt, thought she was saying “Ice Capades” 😉 LOL*

I wanna share with you a tip I discovered while hand sewing this garment. (No machine 😦 but you Can’t Stop My Go!)

Instead of making a knot at the end of the thread before you start stitching; make the knot after you make your first insertion. I learned how to finish a stitch from this video. You can do the same thing in the beginning.

Just insert your needle twice and make the loop, pull the thread through a couple of times and then the needle. Then you can go on and sew without having to worry about tying a knot in the beginning.

Okay, now that I’ve stalled, let me tell you about my big faux pas.
(In NOLA, you have to speak a little French 😉 )

You know, my Zawji and I were supposed to get married on his birthday (the 22nd). I told you I’m still practicing, but that doesn’t explain my hiatus. Well, three days before the wedding, I got an extreme case of cold feet. And, I deliberately got busted shoplifting. The Security Guard was just as cool as the devil manager was evil. He gave me so many opportunities to retain my freedom. Some Black cops and Sheriffs seem to be acutely aware of the PTSD Black people like me suffer from.

But all I could think about was a shower. I knew I didn’t want to go back to jail, because I would’ve had to remove my headpiece, AND I would’ve been out in two days and like I wrote previously, cold feet… So, I acted crazy enough to get committed to the psych ward.

It was new because I’ve been to jail. And, I’ve been to the psych ward. I’ve even been to the psych ward in jail, but I’d never been to jail in the psych ward (hospital).

Zawji tried so hard to get me out in time for the wedding. But, I wouldn’t let him. I got caught up in getting married and completely forgot that I was supposed to be his birthday present. 😥

But Allah is The Best Knower and The Best Planner and
EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON.

While in the hospital I had an epiphany. Rather, a recollection of something I had completely forgotten. I went on a date with a Brother when my husband was away!

I know right? Me? Never woulda thunk.

But, he shipped out right after we got married and I had just learnt I was pregnant, but I was still partying and carrying on like a single woman.

In fact, the only reason I STOPPED partying is because this Brother –
at a party – told me (six-months pregnant by then ),
“If you were my woman, I would beat your ass.“

*Thank-you Brother, by the way. If more Black men would take control of their women, we wouldn’t be in such a bad condition – AS A NATION.

So, anyway, in the hospital, in which I had a beautiful view of Canal Street overlooking a luscious waterfall fountain. This was, by far, the nicest psych emergency room I’ve ever visited. It’s so crazy because everything in NOLA is either BRAND NEW or completely dilapidated and in a state of disrepair due to Hurricane Katrina. It’s like living in a bi-polar city; TWO EXTREMES.

I got a good taste of it last night. I felt like getting out. The plan was to go to Tremé to visit Hisaan – Damisha’s Baby Daddy. Yes Gir, I have to put you on blast for trying to pass that horsebaby off as my Zawji’s. We both know your Baby Daddy is a horse. And yes, Black people, bestiality and grafting is alive and well in America. Damisha’s horsebaby is proof.

I seriously hope you were artificially inseminated. Although, J’me told me she saw a video of a woman having sex with a horse at Ice T’s club.

Anyway, I came up on somebody’s lunch the other day at the Greyhound station (Thanks Zawji! 😉 ❤ ) and it was full of apples. So, I was on my way to give him one and I stopped to take a rest and he “told” me to eat it.

So, afterwards, I was gonna go anyway, with just me, but I thought he might be sleeping, so I stopped in “The Lion’s Den” and listened to this broadcast of a live show and the Brass Band had me open deep and wide! I tried to go catch the show, but couldn’t find it. Ended up in The French Quarter and then at the banks of the Mississippi, once again.

I’ve been in NOLA nearly two months and I’m still seeing new sights!!! I don’t see how anybody can view one week as long enough to take a holiday. True, we did see alot on our family trip to Hawaii, but I think that’s just because my parents gave me and my Sister liberty to roam the city one afternoon and if we didn’t find a party! #onlyme

But anyway, this time I took the Riverwalk and if that shit wasn’t the most romantic thing (2nd) I’ve ever experienced in my whole life. I took it to the end/beginning of Canal Street and the chasm between the haves and the have-nots there is strikingly palpable.

I almost fell on my knees in succor to my Brothers and Sisters, beseeching them to unite and open a hotel. If we would boycott ONE DAY, we would shut this city down.

We are too complacent – too satisfied with crumbs. I’m convinced every devil visiting this city is a billionaire. The hotels, restaurants, bars, stores, etc. are too nice. One hotel has four lanes for Valet parking!!! It looks like fucking LAX!!! But instead of uniting and trying to get some of that Cream at the top,

We’re content with the Crumbs that fall off the table to the floor. Even raising the minimum wage to $15/hour is horseshit compared to the wealth I saw last night.

But anyway, back to the hospital. I stayed until they let me go. They didn’t want to, but I wouldn’t cooperate. It was nice, much nicer than any of my reses in NOLA, but ever since I heard a Brother say that anywhere you can’t walk down the street is jail, I’ve never been content to stay in any psych ward longer than necessary. I don’t care how nice it is.

It was after Zawji’s big day, but I remembered going on that date. I know it was after I was married because I ordered three hot dogs, rather, I had the Brother buy me three hot dogs. So I know I had to have been preggers. I would not have eaten that much if I wasn’t. I feel horrible.

I swear I have split personalities. I know I wasn’t showing at the time and the poor Brother didn’t find out I was pregnant until months later, when I saw him at the Fox Hills Mall.

Anyway, that little detail from my past has been buried for over 24 years only to be uncovered right before I was scheduled to be married again. All things work for good for them who love the Lord. So, it’s all good. It helped me realize I need to rework my plan for staying committed. All Praise is Due to Allah.

I’m so sorry, Beloved Honey-Sweet Zawji. Your birthday comes only once a year. We can wait or we can do like our poor foreparents, who had no knowledge of the date and just say we did it on your birthday. Whichever pleases you, My King. I submit. This is the last issue I had to overcome. It’s smooth sailing from here.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

I LOVE YOU!

Nomorerunnin’………