What’s up with the summer rolls? Several times a week I stop by your store in Peachtree Corners on Spalding. I absolutely love the summer rolls. Avocado, carrots and cucumber in a spring roll–Yum-O. Reasonable number of carbs good balance of protein. Two along with some edamame makes for an excellent lunch. In the past few weeks I noted there’s never any summer rolls. I tried to ask the sushi chef, but there’s a language barrier. I then brought it to the attention of the managers. Still no dadblamed summer rolls. Hey, I’m a simple woman. You have what I want, charge a reasonable price and treat me decently I’m yours for life. Make things harder for me and I’ll talk about you like a red-headed step-child. Consider yourself on notice Publix. I don’t want to drive all the way to the Holcomb Bridge Publix just for lunch, and frankly I shouldn’t have to. I want my summer rolls. If you’ll just tell me when dude puts them out I’ll be more than happy to be there to buy them, but if I go to your store one more time and can’t get them I’m switching to Kroger! That’s right, I’m quitting you. So get it together, tout suite.
I registered to donate bone marrow in March 1997. It was no big deal, mainly involved a needle stick. Being that I’m a vintage Negro of basic south Alabama heritage I thought it would only be a matter of time before I was a match for someone and would be called. Oddly enough, it hasn’t happened and now I’m getting concerned. What’s so weird about me and my bone marrow that it hasn’t been a match for anyone in thirteen years? I see black folk on TV all the time saying they can’t find a match. Why don’t I match any of these people?
The Red Cross acts like ghouls for my B- blood and harass the hell out of me, then complain when I donate because it takes so long. So I figured my bone marrow would be in high demand. Not so much it would seem. I’m fast approaching an age where I don’t think I want anyone digging holes in my hips. They need to hurry up if they want some of this vintage Negro bone marrow.
It’s really making me reconsider my decision not to keep Luke’s umbilical cord blood. We do have his baby teeth and I’m thinking about having them stored somewhere just in case the unthinkable happens.
ETA: Well, now I see the problem, I might as well get off the registry now. Nobody has my blood type in this country, though (quite reasonably) it’s fairly common in West Africa, and damned common in parts of the Indian sub-continent and Eastern Europe. (Interesting. Maybe that long ago ancestor was called “China Man” because he really was from China and not because he had “chinky” eyes. Then again, I could just have some of that much-vaunted “Indian” in me.)
Another blogger posted about having her ancestry traced through DNA. This is something I really want to have done. I’ve always had some interest in genealogy, and this might be a jumping off point for me. I think I’m the only one in my family with this interest, and I need to get on it before we all die out.
Oddly enough, considering how OCD I can be I never thought about this before. I just knew I was Rh-negative because they had to give me a shot after each of my pregnancies. I know Whit is O+, but I have no idea what blood type The Luke has. How remiss of me.
I know. I know. I love polar bears as much as anyone, and the prospect of them drowning disturbs me. No, I don’t want to see Florida underwater, especially since most of them will probably wind up here. Atlanta has enough people, God help us all if it suddenly became oceanfront property. I’m all about controlling greenhouse gases, but I just can’t read in the dark any longer. I don’t care what the greens say, the damned things don’t emit as much light as incandescents and I’m too old and blind to deal with the eyestrain of trying to read like Abraham Lincoln did.
I will continue to use them for overhead lighting, but for task and reading lights, sorry I’ve got to let you go. It’s not me, it’s you.
I believe that a major paradigm shift is occurring on the What About Our Daughters blog. We frequently complain about the lack of mainstream media coverage to those issues that are important to us, well Gina, in her typical fashion took the bull by the horns and did something about it. She hired a reporter to go to West Palm Beach to cover the trial of a the alleged perpetrators on the Dunbar Village atrocity. She has a Chip-in on her blog so that readers can help her defray the cost. Interestingly enough, AP Wire has now picked up the story. I think this is the way news will be covered in the future. Those who are concerned about an issue will hire someone to provide the coverage for them. Goodness knows with the crash of the newspaper industry there are plenty of unemployed reporters around. Be sure to check out Gina’s blog for continuing coverage of this violent gang rape and home invasion. Goodness knows, you won’t find it anywhere else.
I think this is very important. I prefer for my entire family to see a primary care doctor. This worked very well for us back in Huntsville, but apparently there are no family doctors in Atlanta. Family practice pays significantly less than specialization and you have to see more patients. Where’s the incentive in that? I think that since they much like social workers and teachers perform a public service for relatively low pay, perhaps we should consider a student loan forgiveness program, similar to what they receive. What do you guys think?
Since I habitually kick the MSM’s ass for their failure to address violence against black women, I thought I’d give them shout out today. In the past couple of days they’ve stepped up their game. Today they’ve got a special profile on The Grim Sleeper, a serial killer in LA who targets black women/girls. I hope that by shining some light on the subject they might fire up some leads. I heard about this on NPR too, so a head-nod in their direction as well.
I’m also impressed by the LAPD’s admission that they made some mistakes with the case back when the series started back in the midst of the 1980s gang wars. I’m prepared to cut them some slack, because back then the murders were coming so fast and furiously it was almost impossible to keep up with the pace. Heads up everybody and let’s catch this fucker before he kills again.
You suck. No seriously. You suck like fat-free cheese with a side order of butt. Okay, so you turned me down because I’m insulin resistant. I can roll with that even though I think you’re full of it. But charging my kid extra premium because according to your stupid azz charts he’s overweight?!? What manner of fucknuttery is this???
At 47 inches tall and 45 pounds this kid is not now, nor has he ever been fat. He’s off the charts for height, of course he is, both his parents are tall. Seems to me that you people need some new charts. Insurance is a bigger rip-off than payday loans and rent to own stores. Bottom line is, you suck.
I’ve been laughing at this chick for a while now, but today, she went TOO DAMNED FAR!!! I just watched this highly paid ‘t.v. chef’ make cornbread dressing with a can of water chestnuts, a pack of dry Italian seasoning and a can of creamed corn! No sage. No celery. No onion. What kind of fucknuttery is that? How the hell do she and Paula Deen get away with this condensed soup cooking? Folk cooked like that back in the 1970s when nobody knew any better. For the love of Pete, how hard is it to make cornbread dressing? I know she’s a lush (Witness the Christmas tree covered in cocktail glasses), but if you’re going to call yourself a cook, do some cooking.
How is this woman selling cookbooks? Opening packages of canned food is not cooking. Even if you tacky it up with over-the-top tablescapes. Hey Sandra, here’s an idea, why not spend some of the time you put into buying tacky shit to put on the table into you know, cooking? What the hell is up with these bubble-headed women getting lucrative book deals? You can’t convince me that Sarah Palin has anything to say that’s worth $7 million. The woman can’t even talk in complete sentences. Most of the money will probably end up going to the ghost writer to pay for her Prozac prescription. Damned if I’d spend hours talking to that woman without strong meds.
Okay, so I’m going to have to go into seclusion on Veteran’s Day next year. It seems that every year somebody says or does something stupid. Last year it was people who couldn’t tell their children what the poppies were for. This year, this nitwit CNN anchor, Heidi Collins referred to World War II as ‘The War to End All Wars.’ I kept waiting for her to come back and correct herself, but she never did. Even worse, according to her biography she’s a specialist in ‘military affairs.’
Just for the record folks, World War I is known as ‘The War to End All Wars.’ And those poppies symbolize all the soldiers who lost their lives in Flanders Field, also in World War I. Poppy seeds live in soil indefinitely until that soil is disturbed, then they pop up suddenly. So many graves were dug after the battle of the Somme that there were poppies as far as the eye could see. Please, for all things butter-cream frosted, remember that next Veteran’s Day.
This story made me tear up a bit. I think it would be wonderful to have Mrs. Robinson in the White House. The girls have had a close relationship with her during this interminable campaign. Logistically that would be almost impossible to maintain were she to remain in Chicago.
And, I guess in a way I am having my own vicarious thrill at the notion of these little girls being in the same household with their last living grandmother. I wish with all my heart that I could give that to Luke. Or for that matter to me. My mama is gone as are all my grandmothers. All before he was even born. When I look at this picture of Mrs. Robinson I just ache with that special loneliness I suspect that only those who have lost our mothers feel. I think this family should enjoy the time with her to the fullest, and hope they choose to do this.