OK, let me start this post by saying I LOVE MUSIC, all sorts of music, but I MUST tell you, I've been known to not get the lyrics/words right. Does that stop me from singing, of course NOT. My kids love to sing. They act like they know everything, about every song and they act like I'm so outdated that my groove and coolness was for like back in the day. Their only back in the day time frame equals, the 80s, what is wrong with these kids? They walk around throwing out names like, wakaflaka, not a real name in my opinion, JT, JB, Jay Jay, watever, who cares, like I'm so outdated, anyways. The other day, I wanted to show them a thing or two so I decided to sing Beyonce's Halo. Yes, HALO!!!
I got to the part where she sings, "everywhere I'm looking now, it's written all over your face, baby I can see your halo, you know hummm-(don't know the words in between) my saving grace." Then I belted, "I can see your HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, HELLO OH, OH, OH, just jamming like everything is ALL RIGHT! until my daughter, with a crossed look on her face, said with a hint of annoyance, MOMMY!!! she's saying HALO! and I was like I know....., I'm saying the same thing...... I can see your HELLO, HELLO!! she's like Mom, its HALO..... I asked do we have a communication problem here? being the over thinker that I am, I said to her, Beyonce's song, makes absolutely no sense; How in the world can she see my HELLO? my child walked away utterly frustrated and was probably questioning, why Lord, with her hands in the air, was she assigned the most uncool, unknowing, doesn't know she is embarrassing me mom? Hey, what can I say? other than, these singers need to sing A LOT more clearly, enunciate! OK? OK...... I know I didn't interpret the song, but I couldn't even get the chorus so we will try again later....and that's my first song interpretation entry.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
You've Got Mail
A few days ago I was getting ready to sit at the computer when I looked out the window and noticed the mailman had arrived. How boring was my barefooted walk to the mailbox. In Wesley Village, in the Commonwealth of Dominica walking barefoot to get the mail would be a BIG NO! NO! as getting the mail was an event. The post office was the place to be on a Monday, Wednesday and Saturday afternoon. Mondays and Wednesdays were ok as they were weekdays so much effort didn't go into the event... getting mail on a Saturday? now that's was big!
If you weren't a post office going person then all this will be wasted on you, but if mail day especially Saturday mail day was your thing, I know you're saying BRING IT!!!! Saturdays were busy days, you had to wake up bright and early go to the river. I had a basin of four shirts, two skirts, about five panties and it would take me ALLLLLLLLLLLL day to wash dat. River was a big, big deal but that is another post.
Once I was done soaping up and washing my few items using lots of soap, yep! lots of soap cause I had to make sure I got a white soap ring around my calf area. That, I suppose was a sign of a true washer. If you didn't get the ring? then I'm guessing your clothes weren't washed clean. I'm just saying. I don't think there was a particular pattern or order for washing, maybe for other people, because I don't remember if you had to wash first then bathe or bathe and then wash, I didn't have a system, I did it all, wash one piece swim, swim... sometimes I forgot I came to wash, who knew 6 little pieces of clothes took at least 5 hours to wash.... who knew?
Anyways.....I had to make sure I made it home before 2p or 4p? who knows, I didn't keep track of the time then, I had way too much going on. What I am saying is, I had to get back in time to go to the post office. It was something, an event I couldn't miss, in my mind it was equal to missing the rapture. A bit extreme but that's what it felt like.
Remember I mentioned using lots of soap to get the ring around your leg? well once you're done washing you had to make sure to get that off your leg otherwise coconut husshy would be needed to shine the leg clean. But that is something in and of itself for another time. As you can tell, I am eager even as I type to take a mental trip back to a Saturday post office Day.
I recall it being a BIG deal. The appearance for day was a cross between Sunday best meet Friday night Jam session. If you had it? you wore it and flaunted it, if not then you just went with what you had. I think it was a day that everyone took a bath or smelled like they did with guys and girls not being afraid to wear the same perfume/cologne. We'll leave that alone for now.
If you had heels, you wore heels although, I cannot figure out how the fashionistas didn't loose their heels walking Wesley's Road? Anyways, It was a place to catch up with school mates, exchange books like Blue Jeans, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, etc., etc.,. It was a place where you caught a glimpse of that special someone, it was a place to pong a bef, (gossip) he say, she say, it was a place where hope lived, especially for those waiting to get the first or final letter to go to Barbados to get a visa to go to America. It was a place of complete happiness. It was my vacation spot. where I let it all hang out. It's where I played hopscotch, roundas, moral, skip, and stone Ma Dennis bomary tree even as she sat under it so those disagreble children wouldn't stone her tree, and that meant nothing to me.
It was where I played skip is wasting, skip for seenjay, hoop, hit and run, race, stone rodney mango tree, and called maggot a hag for hersibble sweet Shaddock. I was young then, today I apologize for all the bad things. It's the place where I used what little money I had to buy all miss tourist gooseberries. It was where I hated selling candies and other sweeties for my mother cause I would just put her tray down and by the time I came back it had less candy than I did money. It's where I would position myself right at the window after the mail arrived so that every letter coming out of the post office would pass through my hand before making its way to the one who yelled PASS IT!!!
It was my place of zen, peace, excitement, freedom and fun. I don't know about you but as I am coming back to this reality I can say one thing for sure, mail delivered daily to my mail box pales in comparison to picking it up yourself in a tiny enclosed post office in Wesley on a hot sunny Saturday afternoon.
Please share any pics you may have of any of the post offices. It would be great to feature them on here.
If you weren't a post office going person then all this will be wasted on you, but if mail day especially Saturday mail day was your thing, I know you're saying BRING IT!!!! Saturdays were busy days, you had to wake up bright and early go to the river. I had a basin of four shirts, two skirts, about five panties and it would take me ALLLLLLLLLLLL day to wash dat. River was a big, big deal but that is another post.
Once I was done soaping up and washing my few items using lots of soap, yep! lots of soap cause I had to make sure I got a white soap ring around my calf area. That, I suppose was a sign of a true washer. If you didn't get the ring? then I'm guessing your clothes weren't washed clean. I'm just saying. I don't think there was a particular pattern or order for washing, maybe for other people, because I don't remember if you had to wash first then bathe or bathe and then wash, I didn't have a system, I did it all, wash one piece swim, swim... sometimes I forgot I came to wash, who knew 6 little pieces of clothes took at least 5 hours to wash.... who knew?
Anyways.....I had to make sure I made it home before 2p or 4p? who knows, I didn't keep track of the time then, I had way too much going on. What I am saying is, I had to get back in time to go to the post office. It was something, an event I couldn't miss, in my mind it was equal to missing the rapture. A bit extreme but that's what it felt like.
Remember I mentioned using lots of soap to get the ring around your leg? well once you're done washing you had to make sure to get that off your leg otherwise coconut husshy would be needed to shine the leg clean. But that is something in and of itself for another time. As you can tell, I am eager even as I type to take a mental trip back to a Saturday post office Day.
I recall it being a BIG deal. The appearance for day was a cross between Sunday best meet Friday night Jam session. If you had it? you wore it and flaunted it, if not then you just went with what you had. I think it was a day that everyone took a bath or smelled like they did with guys and girls not being afraid to wear the same perfume/cologne. We'll leave that alone for now.
If you had heels, you wore heels although, I cannot figure out how the fashionistas didn't loose their heels walking Wesley's Road? Anyways, It was a place to catch up with school mates, exchange books like Blue Jeans, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, etc., etc.,. It was a place where you caught a glimpse of that special someone, it was a place to pong a bef, (gossip) he say, she say, it was a place where hope lived, especially for those waiting to get the first or final letter to go to Barbados to get a visa to go to America. It was a place of complete happiness. It was my vacation spot. where I let it all hang out. It's where I played hopscotch, roundas, moral, skip, and stone Ma Dennis bomary tree even as she sat under it so those disagreble children wouldn't stone her tree, and that meant nothing to me.
It was where I played skip is wasting, skip for seenjay, hoop, hit and run, race, stone rodney mango tree, and called maggot a hag for her
It was my place of zen, peace, excitement, freedom and fun. I don't know about you but as I am coming back to this reality I can say one thing for sure, mail delivered daily to my mail box pales in comparison to picking it up yourself in a tiny enclosed post office in Wesley on a hot sunny Saturday afternoon.
Please share any pics you may have of any of the post offices. It would be great to feature them on here.
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