Back to School Wash Out

For some of you, the title alone brings back violent memories of a parent coming at you 3D with the world's largest table spoon, with a command of OPEN!!!!!!! Listen, our memories would not exist had we spent our summers thinking about the dreaded "wash out" that would come at the end of summer we wouldn't eaten  anything...well, I wouldn't have eaten half the things I did. "Wash Out," a regimen of cleansing medicines that included but not limited to, bitters, say-nah, castor oil, worm medicine, and cod liver oils for some. Please share if yours had some other types of meds. that i did not include..Some of you may get a little sick from all the nostalgia but hang in there. 

The day school let out or was over and all the hegas was out of the way, that's when summer feast for me was in full swing. Okay maybe summer type feast was always in season for me, that's when summer feasting for some began. Ok, let's get it out of the way now, I would never use the word greedy and definitely not HAG, to describe my childhood interest in food. I would say, I liked to experience the food family.  Summer afforded me the opportunity to experience it more than any other time of year with Christmas being the one and only exception. I would definitely, cross over into the over indulgence category, ONLY during Christmas. 


Summer? wow!one only had to think of what was in season and wishes would come true. For instance, if Kenip was in season, then BABES was the go to girl.   I remember, before I could even think of making it to BABES I had several stops to make, like raiding Khancoo or Cooksie plum trees. Khancoo plum was a different kind of plum, if his plum had a little purple line on it? well then, the whole plum was ripe. It wasn't ripe to you? hmmmm...I wondered why my teeth would turn a nice shade of brown, yours too? who cares, it was ripe. And who can forget picking some green SOUR gooseberries off of Mr. Dent's tree? huh?


Some of you probably used to hit up the farine pit if it was open for some bamboola, or farine. I don't think I used to go to the farine pit often, only when I had to go to Mr. Tyoleh to make a message and the farine pit just happened... to be on my way, since I was coming from the church street direction. Yep, it was right in my path.  I just remembered, I sometimes would end up in bottom Wesley to visit family right around lunch time, with  the hungriest child in the village look on my face, it was summer people, oh I did that all year long come to think of it. anyways...


If the way home was toward the four-road, then ways parted at this point. It was here where most friends said their summer good byes and went their separate ways..well until it crossed a short time later. People our village was and is small, we probably saw each other a few hours later, this is about summer ok, role with me. To those heading towards Eden Road a solid marsh was exchanged. I guess that meant bye, and those heading up church road a proud, hal you skin was the exchange!...ok! OKAY!! so I exaggerated a tiny bit. All I know is that those heading up the road towards central square kindly said with a smile, see you later. ok! okay, geez...so may be we said Marsh, or Hal your skin, back.....I really don't remember......the second parting of ways came at the ontop road intersection....Whoa!!I am suddenly reminded of the dreaded stoning I would get by a Mr. Unnamed..at that very intersection almost yearly....wow!.


 OKay, listen, I don't know if many of you remember the days when MOPO was the place to be.  It was the only open field area in the village with two major mango trees, two, maybe three guava fields, the health center and Ma Ahl- icepops and frozen joys, joyce. It was a short jog away from Murphy's -tambrine balls, Ms. Emma breadfruit, Mr. Cyrus cherries and Ma Daytoush- pomceterre. Oh, Sundays, were they days to get some pomceterre. I don't know if Ma Daytoush had open Sundays or what? but her sons or some others would climb the tree and shake, shake shake the sugar apple? star apple? heck pomceterre and the masses would hit the ground fighting abolow, finding snakes and whatever else was in the way of them getting their beloved and juicy pomcetere.


Ma Datousch home was a fruit lovers paradise, they had Mami, guava in the back and plum behind the kitchen. A short walk to the left,  one could also feast on Miss Daisy's Madway mango and if you were so moved,  you could've taken the short cut toward ten shilling hill to get some of the Tin mango on Ten Shillinghill, or Santana's guava or sour sop; and since you are right on Battice road, one could just hang out in Mr. Onnis (Ernest) garden and enjoy a variety of mangoes...you mean it wasn't free?  Well, if that wasn't your thing then a short visit to Mr. Horatious for some passion fruit or some grafted, long or another kind of mango was it.

photo by Revelyn St. John

Yes? Yes! Yes, I was talking about MOPO! Remember when the second police building in the back was like a place of affluence one dared to tread? oh yeah it was fenced so you really couldn't go in freely. To the very back of the second building was a grassy open area, it was here many would gather to stone the liqa mango tree that was always loaded during the summer months. I remember grown men would climb that tree and a short time later all you would hear is LAYZAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!


It was at this same open place at the second building where I would sneak off to taste or attempt to taste one of Miss Morine cashews. Still don't know what hers taste like cause, I was never ever successful, that lady's radar was better than any monitoring system I've read about in the U.S. She was good. I would shamefacedly walk up the little short cut from her house back to the police station area where a couple of things would be going on, like some of the best mega roundas matches.


As i've said before, I am not a bragadocious person but I used to be a GOOD roundas playa. I was neva on any team why? you ask...well it because some areas in the village already had their top players and I guess I was never in that category because I was too young, yeah, that's why. moving along.....


MOPO, was the place with the biggest guava fields in-front of and behind the health center. Psssh, stories of needles, scare me? who me? no way! Behind the health center had big breed guavas and needle or not, I HAD to be the one to pick it. There was one challenger who was better in conquering the guava fields than I. She had like a ripe guava sensor built into her sense of smell. When I wanted more than the regular amount, she was my ace.


It was in MOPO, before they put all the mocab in the TIN mango root that the stoning champions would come out to test their strength and aim. The tree was tall and not very wide like the liqa tree. I remember grown men throwing stones with such strength and precision that one would hear the wwrrrrrrrrhhh sound from the power  of their throw. Impressed, I am now as I recall the memory, but stupid and greedy I was then, because I never gave thought to letting the stone drop before I sprinted under the tree to make sure I grabbed my fair share of mangoes even if it meant me possibly getting a burse boss head in the process. Oh yeah, that did happen once but I will NOT go into details at this time. 

photo by Taban Telemaque

photo by Isaiah Joseph

I haven't even talked about the pawdo trips, stoning bomarie, Ms. Gladys Ice Cream, Ms. Mazie pudding, Docounah, Ms. Tourist Gooseberry, fine cake, hard cake, pineapple, sweet sop, sour sop, watermelon, eating breadnut, veeoh, oh boy, this reminds me of a time when we thought the river had taken one of our friends, will post another time, grapefruit, oranges, tangerines, sucking cacao, all make up the memories of summer foods that leads to the washing out  regime as we prepared to go back to school.

photo by Murphy Matthew

As you and I listen to the moaning and groaning of our kids not looking forward to returning to school, I  realize a few things.. 1) their limited Caribbean childhood experience and.. 2) I don't understand the complaints as the transition from summer to back to school seems so easy, yet they still complain.  Oh well, don't think I'd much like having to run to the bathroom to help them anyways.

The Tooth Fairy

About two maybe three weeks ago, our six year old lost one front tooth and listen, I have to tell you,  I thought his one missing tooth smile was the cutest thing a mom could ever lay eyes on, until about five days later he lost the neighboring front tooth. His toothless mouth is so funny and cute it brings a smile to my face  whenever he opens his mouth.

missing both

Everyone was so excited, we tend to make a big deal around here. We were all so excited, his big sis asked, are you going to put your tooth teeth under your pillow so that the tooth fairy will leave you a dollar?" to that he responded,  the last time, Ii put my tooth under the pillow daddy came in and took it and left a dollar..... Uhhhmmmmm!~) Right away we knew daddy was playing tooth fairy and got caught so we all went into damage control mode, cause our 6 year old had given up on the tooth fairy. We explained that the tooth fairy really isn't daddy; we told him it just so happened that the tooth fairy on assignment must looked just like daddy, we added, you didn't get a good look cause it was nighttime and it was dark.   To that she sarcastically responded, it was in the daytime. Crushed again in our attempts to reassure him that the tooth fairy does exist. Still in damage control mode we quickly added,  daddy was trying to help, he thought the tooth fairy might be a little busy and so he wanted to be like Dwayne the Rock Johnson in the Disney movie, Tooth Fairy.


To that he looked at us with great suspicion. He hesitantly took his tooth, eying us in disbelief as he left the kitchen to head up to his room. Dads, you gotta love them and give them their due respect cause they create the memories that last a lifetime.


I wonder if Mr. Sixfootplus was wearing a tutu? hmmmmm? I'll try to remember to ask.. It was in the daytime. ahahhahahahhaa, who knew?

Song Interpretation 1

Song Interpretation

Here we are again...some songs were not and aren't meant to be sung by those, especially those with good intentions who only end up murdering the lyrics and words in the process. This song a lovely and beautiful expression of love to those in the throws of romance. This song speaks to the heart the way no modern artist can express it; Journey's Open Arms, expresses words that fail the mouths of most. This song can touch places in our hearts that no other feeling but that of lust, I mean love can. I especially, LOVE the Boyz II Men version, even they couldn't stop me from the inevitable.

I remember when I was dating Mr. Sixfootplus, when he lived in a distant country and far, far away land more than 1200 miles away...Canada, heartache pains me as I type and recall our once long distance from each other. I, an in love helpless romantic, lost in the suburbs of DC area longed to say lovely things to him that only this song could. I would get sick just thinking of combining words to paint the picture that my heart was feeling but before I could I had to make sure I had a booom box that had both a record and playback button and a blank cassette tape. 

Laughing right now you are? well you-tube and texting did not exist between 92-96 and if it did? I didn't know about it cause I was too busy listening to the DJ or calling the radio station asking the DJ to play Journey's Open Arms by Mariah Carey. I couldn't go hang out with friends, go play basketball or even go to church... for fear of missing when the song would come on. 

I'd practice pushing the record button at the right time, test the  recording with my voice to make sure the tape and recorder was working just to make sure that I wouldn't miss a note. Finally, the DJ would come on to say coming up next, Journey's Open Arms.  After waiting through what seemed like an eternity of advertising, he'd  announce the song and instead of just letting the song play, he'd talk for at least 10 seconds into the song as it played, URGGGG!!!! DJ choke yourself I wanted to say but I couldn't cause I'd be heard on the tape, so I had to record the DJ words and song, so much for making it seemed like I didn't record it off the radio.

As the song played I would sign the words from within my soul, after I was done recording, you guessed it, yes, with the DJ cutting in before the song was completely finished I would play back and sing at the top of my voice. 

"So now I come to you with velvet arms, no need to hide,, believe what I say, so here I am with velvet arms hoping you'll see what your love means to me velvet arms."

Oh how I longed for Mr. Sixfootplus to hold me with velvet arms. Some nights as I drove from class the song would come on I'd pull up into the parking space in-front our home and I'd be sobbing, from being so in love with love and so in love with Mr. Sixfootplus who was so very far away and not close enough to hold me with velvet arms. Oh the heart brokenness of being in love. The sorrow of going home to feeling the ache of a distant love and not having not even a velvet pillow to hold on to. Tear drop! tear drop.

As I came to better understand the song and as love matured, I wanted to know more about the artists and what velvet arms was all about. I found out the artists were tight pants wearing, long haired talents with big vocals. I also wanted to know what velvet arms was all about so I bought a single (tape) with words, couldn't afford the CD. One had to pay a little extra to get the lyrics back then. 

You will not believe the shock I was faced with when I found out that "velvet arms" was not even a part of the song. I was STUNNED!!! to learn that all the days and months I sang, "velvet arms" around friends, in public, by myself, in the car, these words were nowhere to be found in the lyrics. Did I just buy a boot leg tape? why aren't the words included in the song? There must be a misprint. of all the bad copies to pick up I picked up one. In the place where velvet Arms should be were the words "Open Arms", what non-sense is this I thought! Slowly and hesitantly, I put my tape in the tape deck player of my car and waited until the part came on and I sang Open Arms instead of velvet arms and it seemed to make better sense. 

I was suddenly faced with the daunting question of, "what will happen to the need I've already created in my mind to be held by Mr. Sixfootplus velvet arms?" How would I be able to re-program my thoughts? Being held with or by Open Arms seemed so normal and regular and lacked the romance that velvet arms held.

To satisfy that need in my head, every now and then when I play the song that is now on my ipod, I sing velvet arms softly instead of Open Arms. 
All I can say is again we have another example of a love idea ruined by artists refusing to enunciate the words to their songs. I will NEVER, EVER erase the image imprinted in my mind of being held by Mr. Sixfootplus velvety arms!

Studio Project

In Home Studio

We've been working on an in-home studio for some time now. I have to tell you it has been a fun project. I can't say that about all the other projects we having going on right now. It appears that we are in the middle stages of several projects. Hopefully, they won't stay in the middle stage very long.


The idea of pushing to complete this project is so that it can be ready for the winter months when family outdoor shoots just isn't an option. Yes, I've passed up on some summer jobs in order to get this done. I've labeled the photos below to give you an idea of most of the items in studio. There are several props and a closet of goods that is out of view.


I will also post what I've learned throughout this process to help those of you desiring to take this step in creating an in-home studio. Notice, I DID NOT say build, because most times it is not necessary.


I'll share what I've learned plus, I will include a post on some of the best photography tools I use and have learned about that could be of a benefit and that is cost effective as well.

studio photo....

We are awaiting the arrival of our spiderlight and then VIOLA!!!!!!


oh one more thing, check out my little model assisting me in testing the light. Isn't she cute?

Let us know what you think.

Song Interpretation

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.

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 her sibble 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.

Me?..... a Farmer's Wife?

As I sit here remembering some old school memories, I can't help but reflect on some of the games I played growing up. The first one that comes mind, is the Farmer in the Dell/Den/Ring. To those of you who sang Den then read Den, if you sang Dell, then read dell and so on. Yes? ok
 School at the Methodist Church began after hurricane David destroyed the Wesley Government School aka big school. Friday's were the best days, it was clean up day culminating in a big fire in the root of the mango tree and of course games.
The farmer in the dell/den/ring? who remembers it as the farmer in the ring? anyways that was always a fun game, especially if you really... wanted to play... and by really wanting to play, I mean, if the farmer was your cheek. If your cheek wasn't the farmer you still had to play cause it was a class activity. The fun began once the circle was made, farmer was chosen and the song began. This game wasn't just a game, it was a time for statements to be made. For example, if your cheek was the farmer, of course you would be chosen first and it was a time to signal to the haters to step off. Well not in those words but something like that. 
The statements were made based on how the farmer chose his family. hahahahaha! In order for the family to begin the farmer had to choose his wife and this is where happy, sad, and vexed feelings surfaced. The farmer tells everyone at least during the game who he wanted as his wife or who his wife/girlfriend at the moment will be/is by walking over to choose her. Usually, his wife's natural response was to pull her hand, cut/roll her eyes as if to say, "boy lemme go, wha you choosing me for your wife nor?" all the while enjoying the moment of being chosen first. 
If per chance, one wasn't chosen as the farmer's wife, thankfully there were other mentionable positions in the farmer's dell/den/ring/life to vy for. There's the nurse, the maid, the child, the cow and the dog. This brings us to the last and absolute worse position that one can be chosen as..the cheese..... I can still hear in my head and the cheese stands alone......what a sad place to be. 
Did any of you ever wanted to be chosen as the farmer's wife? I specifically recall a particular farmer who insisted on choosing me as his wife and I insisted on hiding behind the person next to me. Turns out, me and Mr. Farmer were very good friends and used to be during school, I just didn't want to be his wife. I had my eyes on another farmer who, sadly, NEVER chose me as his wife. Oh well, the lessons that these childhood games teach us. Looking back one can't help but wonder, how in the world were we allowed to play these games with such adult undertones? I guess it was a different time, when children were really innocent and carefree.