Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

The little things matter.

I just went grocery shopping. And yes, I popped my trunk to make good use of the grocery bag holder in the back. Lovin' its!

But it's also Sunday and though I didn't go to church, the importance of giving thanks, making space and time to reflect and pray were not lost on me today. So I'm going to have to keep reminding myself that while it's great to be excited about a car, happy that I can afford it, glad to have something new, I can't get too wrapped up in it. I mean, I wasn't in the grocery store parking lot 2 minutes when a crazy ass cart came speeding towards my front end.

You best believe I already think there's a conspiracy of jealous watchers whose sole purpose is to scuff up folks' vehicles.

Talk about yikes. I'd have beaten that thing to a plasticized pulp for hitting my car. That's when I realized, "Girl. You need to get a grip."

I am about to become that person who parks all kinds of far away from other cars. Philly folk just don't care. Drive all kinds of cars around with dings and dents and scratches galore. I am not used to this, and I'm not about to get used to it either.

Breave, chile, breave.

It's just a car. Mags has already said that at least a dozen times this weekend. She right, she right.

I'm tryin'. Sigh.

Let me tell you about Mags. Right now. Homemother is fryin' up some okra. The loveliest lady ever!

This Girl Was Raised In the South
I yam what I yam.
A proud, heartily eatin'
Southern home fried girl.

Teach your children well

Basking in the untinted glow ...