Erlinda Goes to Harlem

Last Friday morning, I made an appointment to visit my dentist. You gotta take care of your teeth!

I do take care of mine, so I thought I was just making a visit for a cleaning. Twenty minutes later, I was chewing a piece of Dove (c) chocolate - a simple piece of milk chocolate, nothing crunchy, kind of soft because the weather was warm. Suddenly, something wasn't quite right. In my mouth. Along the right side of my jaw. Lower jaw. I managed to crack a tooth and loose a filling in one fell swoop!

My appointment wasn't until Tuesday, and all day Saturday, Sunday and Monday, my tongue kept scraping against the jagged edge of the cracked molar that was missing a part and a filling. I was sure the side of my tongue would be calloused by the time I got to the dentist. Oddly, my tongue didn't brush against that cracked molar that was missing a part and a filling when I chewed on that side. So I made sure I chewed on things softer than chocolate - like processed American cheese, peanut butter, and Wonder Bread. Yuck.

Today, I went to the dentist. He fixed the tooth, admired his work, and let me admire it. (I have a great dentist. He is nice and very cute. Having a cute dentist dulls some of the pain of visiting the dentist. Three shots of novacaine...) They gave me a cute little kit with samples of dental things, and I left the office.

Anyway, I decided to save some money and walk to public transportation rather than take a taxi back to my office.

I walked down Lenox Avenue, and admired the kinds of scenes you just don't see on the Upper East Side of New York City. There is some gentrification going on, but a lot of the flavor of the neighborhood is intact. I passed a lingerie store; backed up, and went in to buy leggings. I passed Carol's Daughter, my favorite beauty supply store, and got some stuff for my hair. I must have been acting funny, because the store manager kept asking me if I was OK. I explained I had just visited the dentist and was full of novacaine. I didn't realize I was acting strangely. She gave me some samples of hair stuff, and body lotion. Gotta support my Peeps!

Back on the street, I bought some incense and charcoal. Nearing the bus stop, I kept looking around at Harlem. Lots of colors, lots of aromas. I waved at babies. I listened to people cuss each other out. I watched young people flirt. One man was howling at the moon - and it was just 2:30 in the afternoon. School kids were running in and out of bodegas, buying quarter water. Street vendors were selling all kinds of stuff that nobody needs to buy. I wondered if it was going to rain...

Suddenly, I noticed a man giving me the once over. He wasn't totally unattractive. He kind of looked like Keb'Mo - but he didn't look like he could sing the blues and play the guitar. ( Just LOVE Keb'Mo'. This man bore an ever so slight resemblence to Keb'Mo.) I love it when men give me the once over. It doesn't happen very much in my neighborhood. He asked if he could walk with me. I said, "No, I am going back to work!" He responded, "I don't want to take your time, but I sure want to suck your toes!"

Freak!

Now, anyone who has seen my feet would not imagine that they would objects of desire for a foot fetishist. My feet are bit on the large side. My toenails are funny looking. (There have been occasions when I have walked into a nail parlour for a pedicure, to hear the nail technician say, "Oh no!" Now, this could be the only phrase the technicians know in English, but I doubt it.) My arches don't exist, and I tend to pronate. I have had two surgeries on one foot - and while it is structurally "perfect" - it is not what I think would bring out a lustful cry from a fetishist! A normal person who looked at my feet would think two things: 1 - "Hammertime!" and 2 - "She should carry butter, salt and pepper for those corny things!" Hell - most of the time, I wear "sensible" shoes. You would see my feet on the cover of "Paws" before you would see them on "WhateverFootFetishistsStoptoRead"...

In my own defense, my feet were clean, and the "Hot Tamales" nail polish helped give the appearance of a woman who cares about her appearance. But - a foot fetishist?!?!?!

Anyway, Mr. NotKebMo kept my stride, and asked if I would wear pantyhose while he sucked my toes. I said, "I don't wear pantyhose." (I don't know why I carried on this conversation...) He said, "I'd put you in [garbled] fishnets and suck away."

At this point, I'd had enough and went angrymiddleagenewyorkblackwoman on his natural brown behind! I called him a freak, (using an adjective that begins with the letter "f") and told him to get away and leave me alone.

His response, "I don't know what crawled up your @** and bit you! I just want to suck your toes!"

I hailed a taxi.

The Ancestors are Smiling

As I write this, my niece Tiffany is in labor. Within 24 hours, a new person in the family will appear. I think of Tiffany, and when she was born. I think of my Mother, who was tickled to death when Tiffany was born. I think of my Grandfather, who saw my Mother before my Grandmother did, and said, "Sweetheart, we have a little girl, and she looks just like me!"

I think of my Grandmother's birth, and wonder what her mother thought.
I think of the birth of my Great-Grandmother. And that of her mother.

What did these women think as they crossed the threshold to Motherness? What did their men think?

I think the Ancestors are smiling. Waiting to welcome the new life. Waiting to remind New Life that the Line of Life continues with her.

I whisper a prayer, "Welcome, baby girl. May you know that you are loved. May you live in love. May you be Love."

Take Care of My Karma

I've been doing pretty good lately. Sleeping well because I have a new CPAP. Trying to eat better. Visualizing my future - a cottage and a red car, lots of books, a wildflower garden, a loving man. "If you can imagine it, it can happen..."

OK. I have to admit, I haven't been sleeping that well. I had horrible nightmares two nights in a row. (Are there not "lovely nightmares"? These were downright hellacious!) But I visualize a good night's sleep because I have a new CPAP. My life is so not where I want it to be, and I feel like a deer in headlights. I am a mess.

I made a gratitude list in order to cancel the lively pity-party I was having:

1. A new niece is due to be born within the next two weeks.
2. I adore my nieces and nephews.
3. I really like my friends
4. I am getting a kick out of reading, "Queen Salote of Tonga: The Story of an Era, 1900-1965" - I SWEAR she is my alter-ego. There is a faint resemblence. All must kneel before me. hahahahaa!
5. I really love my dog.
6. I started taking cello lessons. It makes my thighs and hips and hands and shoulders cramp, but I like learning the cello.
7. I love my cello teacher, William. If I had a son, I would want him to be just like William.
8. I am pretty sure I'm going to Maine in a couple of weeks. This gives me something to look forward to.
9. My grandmother's 98th birthday is in 20 days. How many people have a 98 year-old, alert grandmother?
10. I am particularly pleased with the red shade of my nail polish. I can't remember what it is called, so I will have to admire it for a while.
11. "Little Dee" - a comic strip that just makes me giggle. "littledee.net" - you should visit it.
12. Music. I just love music. (Most music.)
    

Then, the worst thing happened: I had a conversation with an acquaintance about voting. Not imagining that she, or anyone, could possibly say, "No!", I asked her if she was registered to vote. I almost had a stroke when she, indeed, said, "No!" She went on to say that she wasn't pleased with either candidate, and that her vote wouldn't make a difference. I took a deep breath (so I could think before responding with a scream) and said, "Your not voting makes a difference. There are people who are fighting and dying for the right to vote [somewhere], there are people who have died for the right to vote in this country. I don't care who you vote for, but you must vote!"

I obviously care who people vote for. I wear that heart on my sleeve. (Obama/Biden are the men for me, in case you don't know.)

It IS important that people register to vote. One reason is: it affects my karma. When I heard that this woman isn't registered and doesn't vote, I took an immediate inventory of her shortcomings. "She's stupid, no wonder she's..." "I am so much smarter than she is!" Then something smacked me in the head and reminded me that my life isn't so wonderful, and there are LOTS of people smarter than me. (I hate them - I want to be smart, smart, smart!) It also gave me a strong inventory of my shortcomings - and there are many. It reminded me that someone could think I was stupid and "no wonder Erlinda is (or isn't)..."

So, I gave her a registration form. Offered to mail it. Told her that it was important that she registers and it didn't have to be for a particular party. Explained that she couldn't vote in a primary if she didn't declare a party, but that was her right. I even looked up the location for her to cast her vote, and got a stamp for her registration form.

I felt a lot better, and my Karma was in better shape.

Please vote. Please register to vote. If you need a voter registration form - no matter where you live - send me an e-mail, and I will get you a form.

Forget me. Make my karma happy.