Wednesday, January 03, 2018

Seven Year Hiatus Since 7 Year Itch

Well I did cut my locs in 2015 because I went to work for Waco Habitat. I could not keep the paint and caulk out of my hair from the construction site work I was doing. My locs have grown back about four inches since then. My hair was about at my waist before cutting it back... Sorry no pictures.

I had been growing my locs since December 2003. That reminds me, I just had my 14th year locversary!

I realize this is my hair blog, and most people want to see the locs... so, here we go.




 I am a little more gray about the temples, hence the hair headband, but I am still rocking the sister locks. Blessings to you all this 2018. May The Most High ever increase you in health, wealth and love.

Monday, January 01, 2018

Working on a short story 2018 Creative Goals


Blessings~

By Perseverance, the snail reached the arc 1.1.18

Spurgeon knew something was amiss when the skies he knew to warm his comfy shell drew dark and quiet. There was at once a newness to the air. Spurgeon rotated his upper tentacles to try to get a better look at what was going on about him. But as far as he could comprehend through sight of eye, every living thing and creature about him was on the move. He saw such grand creatures small and large. He saw animals that he had never seen before. Of one sojourner passing slowly enough for Spurgeon to get his attention, he inquired, “Why are there so many animals passing this way?” The tiny but agile field mouse, replied, “The rains are coming and we must board the giant shell before it rises.” Spurgeon was confused. He knew about shells because he lived in one. In fact, he took it where ever he went.
“What is this giant shell?” He asked the mouse.
“A man has built it with his hands.” He explained. “It soon will close and rise with the waters and we must board swiftly.”
“How long until the boat rises?” Spurgeon asked.
The mouse replied, “We must move swiftly because it rises as the skies darken and the grass sways.”
“Well that is not much time for me!” Spurgeon reasoned. “I am so small and not swift of speed. How may I board the giant shell?”
The mouse scurries ahead of him and said, “Start moving now. Get going now. Now is the time to move toward the giant shell. You have no time to lose.” And the mouse hurried on through the large lumbering legs of the elephants and hippopotamus. And Spurgeon began to slink along the land behind the great throng of animals. He could hear slight rumblings in the distance. “Could it be?” He thought. “Could it be the rains have come to raise the giant shell?” He shuttered to think about it. All he could do was keep moving. In the distance to his amazement was a very giant shell. It was opened at the hull and animals of every kind were boarding it. But he was still so far off, that he was getting very discouraged. He saw a many animal leap aboard the great vessel with ease. He saw them slither coolly. He saw them flit and flitter gracefully. He saw others lumber and rumble aboard. Others slinked, strut, and scurried aboard. He even saw one rolling. It was his friend the rolly-poley.
“Oh, how am I ever going to get there in time?” He exclaimed.
Plunk, plunk, plunk. The rain slowly began to fall. Very slowly. Spurgeon march ahead. He put his head down and pushed his chest forward and moved on. Behind him was a very strange creature. His name was Pokey. Spurgeon was disturbed by this creature because as large as it was, it was not moving very fast at all. You could say that Spurgeon was perplexed by his size to speed ratio.
“And what are you?” Spurgeon asked.
Pokey said with a grin, “I am a giant sea turtle.”
“How far have you travelled to get here?” Spurgeon gasped. “The sea is a mighty long way off.”
“My journey has been a year in the making.” Slowly letting out the words. “But the journey has been a joy. I got to stretch my legs a bit.” He laughed.
“You carry a shell like I do.” Spurgeon said.
“Why yes. I do. I hardly think about it, it has been 97 years surrounding me in comfort.” The sea turtle said as it twisted his head about the see his outer wear.
Pokey continued speaking about when he was a small turtle almost trance-like and moved ahead of Spurgeon without notice.
But even as slowly as the Pokey advanced, Spurgeon lagged behind.
Forward Spurgeon moved. Slowly but without waver, we moved on.
Suddenly Spurgeon hears the slight inhale and exhale of a furry little animal. It is dosing in the afternoon calm. But Spurgeon slinks up to it and awakens it.
“Why are you not rushing to the giant shell? The rains are coming and we all need to board.”
The Slow Loris yawns and stretches his arms.
“What? Huh?” The Slow Loris says.
“How can you be sleeping at a time like this? We must move forward.”
But the Slow Loris, being nocturnal just yawns and rolls his head back under his arms to slumber.
Spurgeon sees it is getting late and the time to board is drawing to a close.
He persists on his way.
Out of nowhere a Koala bear drops from the trees. He is eating some leaves and sings a song about the tasty treat. He stretches out to get a closer look at Spurgeon from ground level.
“And how are you, mate?”
Spurgeon, a bit shocked at this introduction, replies, “Well I am in a bit of a rush. But all things considered, I am well.”
“Well is well. And that is well. Well then.” The Koala says gingerly. “The arc is just over the hill here. We will make it in time. God’s has not forgotten us.”
“How do you know this?” Spurgeon replies.
“HE knows all his creations. He knows exactly what we can do and what we cannot.” Koala says as he snaps to attention and then curls up in a ball. “Our steps are ordered!”
Spurgeon looks on in amazement as the Koala cheerfully gathers him into his fist full of leaves.
“Look there!” Koala gestures. “We are nearer than you think. And Closer than you know.”
Then Joe the three-toed sloth. Peels himself away from behind a tree nearby. “He is correct!”
And the three creatures now a together move onward to the giant shell.
Spurgeon’s spirit seems to be lifted as he now realizes that is close to seeing the giant shell.
The sun begins to set as the rain begins to pick up its pace. Suddenly the slow Loris gains ground on the lagging misfits. “Mind if I join you? I don’t mind if I do.” The slow Loris retorts.
“But I thought you would sleep right though everything.” Spurgeon sputters.
The night time is the right time for me, you see.” The Loris spryly exclaims. “God has not forgotten me.”
Just then the three-toes sloth reaches out for the deck of the arc and grabs hold. The Koala grabs him and the Loris grabs him. Spurgeon is clinging to the leaves in Koala’s grip. The four tumble into the arc as the door closes behind them.

Spurgeon’s little tentacle eyes are seen overlooking the arc as the rains lift the giant shell higher and higher and higher.

Friday, December 17, 2010

7 Years and Still No Itch


This is a long shot view of my pulled back locs. Katie and I liked the pink this day. It has been so long since I posted. I wanted to do something, even if it is small, to acknowledge 7 years of Sisterlocks!

Blessings~

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Where Has The Time Gone

Where has the time gone
it's slipped between the juggling of things
in and out of situations
never thought of or conceived
by me
Then suddenly one day I look around
and see you there
adrift in air
and wonder to myself

Where has the time flown

Was it lost in occupation or some financial obligation
an argument with who knows who
for who knows what and who knows why
I'm left to sigh
but when I look around and see
you standing almost to the sky
the thought I can not shake
why does my heart ache

Where has the time gone

Remembering the oohhs and ahhs
the lullabyes and captivating eyes
can't help by cry or shed a tear
but it is joy and wonder's splendor rushing
out from places far and near

Oh but dear...

my little one
Where oh where oh where oh where
and when

When did you grow up
and when did I forget to tuck you in
or wipe your tiny chin

Don't look now, Child
before it's much too late
I want to say I love you now as well
not any fairy tale
just a mother's knowing heart that swells
with a healthy understanding time has failed
to keep you small and innocent
beneath the fray and consequence
and yet we learn we all must let
you go on... too soon to be "so long"

but where has the time, the time... gone

Blessings~

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Great Grandma, Mamol, and Mama Wore Wigs

There are photos of my mother's grandmother in a wig. She was a church-going older woman who eventually surcame to diabetes. I have no idea how long she had worn wigs, I just know she did. I never saw her real hair; and quite frankly, I was too young to even remember how she truly looked when she passed. I just have those snatches of images. You know the frame work of a big woman, a bossy woman, a woman who did not go out in public looking "any old kinda" way. A chestnut brown woman with those big and small moles that arise from aging. A focused on "what she wanted" kinda woman.

I remember a lot of white dresses and missing legs... the smell of liniment and direction-giving. At least I think she was missing legs. My mother's grandmother on her father's side had diabetes, too. I remember for sure that she was missing legs, and that she also wore a wig.

These black women wore wigs, pressed their hair, braided their hair, and hid their hair under wraps. I am sure they also at some time or another, these same women, let their hair down, let it kink up, took sissors to it, or just gave up on it. It struck me today that I wanted to think about what generational time structures kept confined those little ladies in the paradoxical apparatus that was "atop their heads," atop their own natural hair.

My grandmother was born in 1920. Her mother was born in the late 1800's. My mother was born in 1944. Seemingly every 20 years or so, a generation of little black ladies passed on the cultural wearing of wigs to us in Waco. I was born in 1969, but I have never worn a wig unless it was for a play, film, or costume party. The closest I came to the act was braid extentions. Braiding in longer synthetic or natural hair to hid the length of my hair, but not necessaryily the hair itself was my variation on the theme I guess.

My mother wore wigs when we were children. She had three of four of those styrofoam heads with bobby pins and place combs, and netting and all. She was a licensed beautician. The heads sat upon her dresser for many years, coursing in and out of different 70's inspired wig styles. I was more interested in playing outdoors, but I notice them there-, the wigs, partial wigs and other hair pieces.

My mother still throws a wig on or hair piece in, even now that both her daughters have locs. She also still presses and curls. I think it makes her even more hell-bent on her wigs to see our carefree lifestyles. She likes to say, "Babydoll, I like what I have," and if we press her to change, she says, "no, no, no, no, no," and that's that. Why she clings to the wig, hair pieces, and press and curl is beyond me, but cling she must. I am talking specifically about my mother; my intent is not to disparage the wig, press and curl, or any other choice of hair style. Whatever you like, go with it. Please!!!

I believe eventually she will resort to wearing the wig full time when out "in public." Our family has a history of slight hair recession and loss, especially around the forehead and temple. Right now I am beginning to see the recession around my temples. I have a triangular area on both sides of my forehead near the temple where it is just "hair too short to tussle with." I am not ecstatic about it, but I am about to hit my 40's, and these things are a part of aging. So, I can see Mama wearing her wigs more often as she approaches her mid to late 60's and the "in your face" realities of aging.



My grandmother's hair was a soft and silver-white by the time she was in her 60's. She passed away at 67 of alzheimer's with that pretty lengthy hair of hers that was long on the top and at the sides, but noticeable shorter at the back nap and the temple area. Mama's hair is soft like her mother's hair, too. Her hair is also thinning at the temples and "kitchen." However, Mama will dye her hair until the day she dies (Ms. Clairol is recession proof). There will be no gray hair for her at all. And with that reality, I know the thinning hair pattern has been handed down to me.



I wonder if in the future, if I live to be 67 or 87 or older, if there will be a season for me to share in what the women in my immediate past experienced, the wig.



Blessings~

Saturday, March 14, 2009

63 Months

March 13th made five years and three months having these locs. Mary bantu'd them two days ago, and I took them down this morning. She used light setting lotion on wet hair. I did spend twenty minutes under the dryer at one point, too.



The bantu knots were not too tight, but sleeping can be uncomfortable at first even when the knots are not tight. For the most part, they stayed in place. I spent some time re-wrapping or knotting a few along the way.

Because my locs are a bit larger, I don't get the curls I desire from Bantu knots, but the waves are nice. They last a good while. The fullness effect is bold. My locs go from flat to way full whenever I do this. My head seems "ge-normous," but I don't mind because the style is cool for me.

The back never seems to hold the curl or wave too well. I think I may just roll the back next time. I am always a bit disappointed when I spent so much time waiting in bantu knots only to have the back fall right back flat. Fortunately, the length of my hair is longer on the top, so those waves can cascade over the few unwilling locs in the back.



All in all, I am satisfied with the style. Next time I have a long break like this Spring break, I may just keep the bantu knots in for the entire week. After day two, I learned how to sleep with them a little better.







As far as the years of having my locs are concerned, I reflect back on my install, and I remember that my consultant, Imani, had just entered her seventh year with Sisterlocks. Today, she has had her locs for 12 years. They are still stunning, and time will tell where my locs will be in seven years.

Blessings~

Seven Year Hiatus Since 7 Year Itch

Well I did cut my locs in 2015 because I went to work for Waco Habitat. I could not keep the paint and caulk out of my hair from the constru...