The Uuhs and Aahs of Today.

Hellos my friends.
Santa is visiting my neighborhood tonight. I came home from work this evening and found a decorated Christmas tree outside my door with extra lights and ornaments in a box. I wish I knew about this Santa when I was younger, my wish list would have made a booklet. I actually still don't understand the whole Santa deal, but I'm happy about the early present. Thoughtful of you Patricia, I love the tree. I know for sure there is a God who feeds the birds in the air and keeps his eye on the sparrow. He can't go wrong with our wish list. In fact, he sorts our toys and eliminates those that may contain lead which could be harmful to us. And of coarse the kids that we are, we get upset with him. Poor us.
Ok, enough of the sermon.
Something else happened today, well several things. I set my alarm last night for 8am but as usual I was able to reset it this morning in my sleep to give myself a few more minutes and of coarse didn't wake up until 10 minutes to 9am. This is my morning routine. My morning sleep is one thing I can't exchange for anything, and I mean anything. Not even the wifely duties. Well, I got to office before my boss did, and that was an aah (I sigh). I had taken a couple days off so my desk was a total mess especially if you work with the messiest boss ever known to man. I hope he doesn't read this but if he does, I would like him to know that he's the best boss I have ever had or known. Another uuh came during my lunch break, one of our clients brought us fudge and I could repeat the aahs and uuhs as it melted in my mouth, I now kind of understand the whole chocolate fetish, I think it's real. Long story short, I went to a Christmas dinner party, though I was late, I found a few pieces of bread for appetizer and just before I got to them, the waitress took the plate and exchanged it for a big platter of I don't know what it was, Something with cheese and chicken., but it was delicious. The cheese and chocolate cake for dessert gave the whole dinner a kick. Then "the pick or steal a present" game came on. We all picked numbers and I was number 12, No one stole the other's present until Brian opened the Frog hamper. Paul immediately stole it from him, one strike. Then I stole it from Paul, second strike. I almost left as soon as I got it because I had just got a home for my dirty clothes I left on my bedroom floor, Uuh, awesome. Then number 14 stole it from me, third and last strike, I couldn't steal it back. I wish I had gone home with my last pleasure of today. Santa is still in my neighborhood, I at least went home with something, a decorative plate. Merry Christmas and happy holidays.

My lost love, the stranger.

My lost love, the stranger.
I greet you all my friends. I hope you have had a fairly good to a very good year as it winds up. I count all my blessings even when there is been little to write home about lately.
I was pondering on the list of things I could have potentially kept in my journal and L.O.V.E kept popping up. Those who have rubbed shoulders with me can testify on my undivided commitment to that word but sadly, time has diluted and robbed some of it. L.O.V.E is such an ambiguous thing; I purposely give it no definition for the sake of avoiding a debate but highly associate it with kindness. Relax; I will not unleash all my love life here but just this one intriguing bit.
I read his letters and my heart feels a warmth indescribable, I listen to his voice and the face lights up. I try to resist the tempestuous feeling of passion until it overcomes me and I hide safely under the wings of HOPE (This could be it, "feeling"). A very good feeling, never felt before and yet anxiety inducing, bittersweet for lack of a better word. I enjoy painting a picture of his face and person in my head. Any color of beautiful, I use and make myself a perfect picture. God fearing, very elegant, kind, patient, attractive, intelligent, non-judgmental, faithful, enterprising etc, he fits them all until I meet or get to know him , he is non of the above. My love, the stranger, I lost him too until the next suitor, a stranger, my new love.

FASHION AND STYLE

Hello my dear friends. Good week to all of you. Time really flies. The holidays are around the corner, it feels like yesterday as we sat around the fire place on Christmas morning opening presents, with Prissy(cat) hopping from one lap to another, extending her little chin for a kiss,(don't say eewwh), She's adorable not the mice catching type. For those of you who did not get presents, I have one for you this year, just leave me a private message.
The title of this post may suggest that I know a whole lot about Fashion and/or style. I am sorry to disappoint you because I hardly know anything about anything, but I know so much about my taste and just for your eyes and ears, I was once told that I had style by a guy who clearly wanted more than a firm handshake, but we can give him a benefit of doubt.
Why fashion and Style? Well, don't we all wake up and get some clothes on? Don’t we enjoy it when people compliment us even when it is only courteous or they want something from us? Of coarse we do.
I would care less about fashion because it almost ruined my life.
Several months ago, I had made quite a bit of money so I decided to treat myself to a dress that was being advertised. The magazine or the show host, I do not remember which one called it “Steal Jessica Simpson's look for less", the look was dead gorgeous but the price, wallet breaking. What a heck, I thought to myself, I burst myself working hard, I need to quit the charity stores and catch the fashion epidemic. I went out and bought two dresses at a totally insane price, I had to put some on credit. Enough money to feed my whole village a couple of days. I invited myself to a lame theater show just to show off my Jessica Simpson's look. I had about half an hour to the show, so I decided to start on my laundry. I run the water on it as I gently perused my closet for the dress. I went back to the laundry to be sure the clothes were soaking well and I saw my dress in there. I quickly picked it out and the leather belt had bled all over it. The tag clearly read DRY CLEAN ONLY. It was too ruined to ever be worn. I did not just loose the dress, or the money I bought the ticket but had to work extra hours to repair my depleted account in the name of fashion. Fashion is so ugly that it has to be altered now and again. Therefore, I base my fashion taste on what will not itch, leave me too cold or too hot and give me enough room to eat and laugh.
My free advice, you can still look dead gorgeous for less. I will never forsake my charity stores again and fabulous I shall look.

AMUZED / DEMUZED HUSBAND

Hello my friends, I have missed you, I salute you all.
I have not been at my best in the last several weeks but I'm sure doing better than many in the world so I can't complain. I hope you enjoy reading my disconnect.

At first I’m not sure if I have seen correctly, Oh yes, I have. The strip has two red lines, I’m pregnant! Maybe not an exciting story for some of you but if you ask me, this one is.
Why now? Thinking loudly, I don't have a good grip on my career and as if that's not bad enough, ends are barely meeting. Well, what did I expect for not refilling the pill?
My husband comes back from work, his face so pale from a long day and the cold temperature of Fall, I can't help but feel sorry for the burden of another dependant coming his way and the nagging 9 months landlord of our little tenant I might become, like most pregnant women you know. He looks at me gracefully and assures me that whatever is bothering me is going to be okay. Months fly by and before we know it, I’m pushing with all my might to finally evict my little tenant. Every time I turn and look at my husband, I can see how a wonderful father he is going to be. Such a graceful heart, soft and strong hands to cushion the baby, a responsible and exciting dad a child could ever ask for. My eyes though weary, faintly beam with delight; all of a sudden I’m a proud mother. (I skipped a bunch of events in between). My husband had been working on a project that had finally rewarded him handsomely, so, financially secure, a new born baby, a beautiful wife, he can’t get his hands off me and trust me, my real husband will not enjoy watching that scene of the movie unless I don’t take the role. Nice script though.

THE MOVE

Hello everyone,
The last couple weeks have been the most crazy weeks of my third quarter, with both the sweet anticipation of moving to a new house and the bitter experience of loosing all my original documents, not the worst that could happen to anyone but pretty draining.(Good excuse for my complacency to write). So how have you guys been? I'm all ears for all your updates. Until then, so long. Watch this space.

FIRST TIME

I can't stop smiling every time I remember the first time, I meant to write , the first time I flew and then I remembered the first time I crossed the boarders of my birth country, oh! my first rotation on the hospital ward, the day I first arrived in the US, the list goes on and on.
The advantage of having a bad memory like mine, is that you enjoy the same things as if they were first time, so I wouldn't bet all these events were first time, hmm, I think they were.
I would love to tell of the wondrous story of each of them but I'll spare you the pain of reading a soap opera, I myself would rather watch it than read it.
This was in the early 2000's, I was in nursing school, a member of the choir at the cathedral, I was on the Red Cross youth committee and a volunteer with Right To Play, a children non-profit Organisation and I was running for the deputy Guild speaker on the student leadership, busy body. I loved every single bit of what I was doing and I couldn't imagine giving up one for the other until I was asked to travel to Northern part of Uganda( war-torn zone), in the displaced camps to train coaches in first aid. I would never have risked my precious life to the danger zone but this opportunity was a little less than touching the hem of Jesus' garment, I was going to fly to the training, Flying for the first time. I literally couldn't sleep, not anxiety, not insomnia but the excitement was too much to contain. I abandoned everything else that I was involved in and packed for the trip as if I was leaving for a vacation to the Bahamas for months. I was sure to include my passport because I kind of linked the airport with a passport, of coarse I didn't need one, I was not crossing any boarders. I told all those who cared to listen of my "morning flight", oh dear. You could see the envy in their eyes. I couldn't imagine being anyone else but me, because I envied me too.I arrived at the airport with another volunteer and it was a thrill just checking in the departure, though nothing as dramatic as I imagined . We got onto the ten seat plane, I made a point to call my uncle just for him to hear the noise of the plane as it took off, to be sure I was flying. You think this is funny but boy, this experience can be overwhelmingly exciting. Actually overwhelming. A few minutes in the air, I wished I had never got onto that thing called the plane. I felt intense pressure in my cranial, almost bursting through my ears, I felt like there was no content in my abdomen, I simply felt bad but still maintaining my demeanor, I leaned over the chair in front of me, fastened my neck scarf around my tummy and that kind of eased the discomfort. My poor fellow volunteer turned and convincingly told me how he was catching malaria, not to mention everyone else on the plane rushing through the door when we finally made the first stop. They were sick as a dog. You would think that they were used to flying to get sick since they must have travelled so far, telling from the colour of their skin. I later on found out that small planes are not the best for first time feel good flight. My next flight was with Boeing and believe me, I wish to have a bad memory with my first flying experience but it just won't happen. I almost forgot to say that we took the bus back home.

My very good friend, Nicole, once said that I'm a piece of work, definitely not something I paid attention to. I took some time today to reflect on the things I dreamt of doing and the list was endless. Entangled in my youthful ambitions, exploring opportunities and putting my abilities to test,not a piece of cake. Like my friend Gerald, I still do not know what I want to be when I grow up. I don't mean to wash my dirty linen in public but it's part of not being grown up yet. Well, I don't remember anyone asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I can barely remember what I had for lunch, so maybe someone did ask.
I always loved music dance and drama, not the exceptional kid on the block, but was damn good in those folk songs and dances. At about 14-15 years, I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I would make a good doctor, I'm a nurturer, I love to care for those in need, I am kind and all the goody "doctor" qualities but i sucked at biology. It was just around this time that I had become a christian even with a church minister for a father, it took me that long to take a grip. Well, my "inwit" was, that whatever I believed , I would get ,do or conquer. (I'm miss that baby faith).
I was offered a combination of history, economics, divinity and Music (This is in the part of the world where someone decides what you should study), And I still hoped to go to medical school with that combination of classes, you can't beat that "daftness" but faith I call it. Long story short, I finished high school, got a government sponsorship for a bachelor of arts in music, I tried to change to drama, in vain. My ardor for medical school was so intense that I couldn't tell the difference of a simple key G from key F# in the music aural class. I woke up one morning and shamelessly, went to the nearest nursing school as a point of entry in the field and literally begged for admission. The registrar ordered me out of her office and holding back the tears, chocking with passion and desparacy, I reassured her that I would be the best nurse there would ever be and I wasn't going to leave her office without an admission letter. She ignored me for a moment, started rearranging papers on her desk and then she pulled out a couple of papers from the pile and handed them to me, to fill out.The rest is history, I graduated as a registered nurse 3 years later. Not the zenith of my career, but fairly accomplished.
Thus far my guts got me, still hoping to be a Ben Carson of my generation, I decided to do something more fun in the summer to distract my obsession and alas I remembered the the option of drama that I was denied , so I decided to spend a few bucks for acting classes. The same Christine with enthusiasm and devotion to be the best at whatever I do, I prepared a 3minutes monologue for homework , practiced all night like my life depended on it. For a second, I thought I could be an actress when I finally grow up, Maybe not, because I forgot half of the words on the d-day. So pissed at myself, I showed up at work this morning with a long face and a lamp of disappointment in my throat and thank heavens for doctors, my boss offered to look in my throat and examine me , just in case I'm coming down with an illness. Poor him, his nurse is a piece of work. I agree with Nicole.

It's 1:24am and no stratagem to kick off this weeks post but from my daily sermon, I preach to myself; You will not get anything done unless you get off your butt. I definitely had decided one of my many unending stories to tell you but my left rotator cuff will not let me do it and now I can't remember which of the stories I had decided on, except try to figure out how I hurt myself.

Well, it's not just my shoulder injured but my memory too. I can blame it on being busy, God knows with what. Anyways, take good care of yourselves my friends because we get so busy and forget the little things that keep us fit and healthy, like a hearty healthy breakfast, a very good night rest. Oh I feel like indulging. I'll set an example now, go to sleep and I'll tell you all about it here in a few. Later my friends.

I heard of a story where a father asked his children what they wanted to be when they grew up, one of the them wanted to be a bus conductor because they always have a lot of money in their hands (ofcoarse not in some countries where money is deposited in a machine or passengers carry prepaid cards and passes), another wanted to be a house maid because she believed that they get to eat all the food they want since they fix the meals. I guess I had a better choice. Around my teen years I thought it would be cool to be a receptionist because they looked very nice wearing their smiles , many of those I envied were always in heels and every sound they made with a step shouted confidence, they sat in rotating chairs with wheels and swung in them with skill. Oh I envied them. In my small head, beautiful, exciting, fun, awesome, anything good about a job equaled a receptionist. The center of attraction, I thought they knew everyone and everyone knew them because they greeted everybody in a familiar way. Hmm, at some point in life I became one and I could write a book about being a receptionist if I knew how but I’ll spare you the whole drama and tell you a glimpse of it. This is a drop in the ocean.
Thank you for calling …..Medical center, this is T, how may I help you? 100 times a day and the answers were pretty much the same. This one time it was a young man and he wanted an appointment. Another client had cancelled so I asked him to come in a couple hours later. Nothing like the celebrity in my previous post, but he was good looking, about 6’1 with a great physic, in a dressy blue shirt, tacked in nicely and he looked very responsible, I could score him at 99%, I think I told myself that the days of petitioning God for his will were over and I needed to start thanking him for the creation standing right in front of me, because it fit so well. Long story short, several months later he asked me to dinner at his house with his other friends and I said amen, let it be. I appeared at my best. When I got to the address, I was a little confused because it didn’t at all look like a neighborhood he would be living in. I double checked and sure enough it was. I entered the house, it looked alright inside and a dozen of eyes welcomed in. At this point I had reduced my score to 65%. Everything was going on well until the last guests appeared, I had excused myself to the bathroom and I can’t tell how it started but when I returned, my good looking young man was on top of his guest punching him so hard, a lot of curse words in the air and when he finally let go of him, the guest asked my host how his new nigger girlfriend would think of what he’d just done. Everyone was silent.I don’t know what disappointed me most, being called a nigger, my “perfect” violent young man, being a receptionist or Skipping swimming to watch a fight? I don't know which one but I know his score dropped to 0%. And being a receptionist, isn't as fancy as I thought.

My mind is like a sea of thoughts, I couldn't wait till morning to share my long awaited oppurtunity that finally knocked on my door. Why I have to waste my precious sleep amusing myself writing to the annonymous, I can't comprehend but it's sure better than lying on my supine , turning lateral, prone, supine again itching to tell any ear that cares to listen. Ok, I won't waste any more of your time, I'm so itching to tell.
It's finally end of school year and even if I was sad to leave my friends that I had tried so hard to make, I was also excited to have free time to do fun things like watching as many movies as I could get my hands on. For all the years I've watched movies, it was not until recently that I could tell Beyonce from Jennifer Lopez, so it was not unusual that I didn't recognise this rare, wonderfully and fearfully made actor that appeared in a couple of them that I watched. A very fine man I must say and a good actor too. Preety soon I was watching his movies everyday. I spread the gospel of this cute guy to all my girlfriends.
I silently fantasised meeting him in person. Just like ever meeting Barak. Can you imagine entering a room and meeting with Barak? I wonder what I would do. Well, I finally met this fair skin , muscular, tall , neat actor , I was stuck to my chair. My chin dropped, my mouth gaped, and my extremities were cyanosed and numb. I couldn't feel a thing, I frooze. He was on the phone all this while, my guess is , it must have been good news because his smile lit up the whole space as he walked towards me. I jumped up from my seat like there were pins and needles and wondering what to do next, he saved me the trouble and stretched out his hand . I was thrilled, excited , overjoyed, name it and I walked closer for a hand shake and damn it, my alarm clock went off. I was dreaming.

My passion to get things done always drives me like automatons , but passion alone wasn't helping in getting this post started. I finally had to burst my bubble, I'm not a writer but what a heck? I don't have to be a professional writer to tell a story, do I?
It was a very hot Thursday evening as I rushed out of the lecture room after a long boring class of Ethnomusicology, all I wished for was a very rich man friend with a car to be waiting outside my class to chauffeur me home, or better yet to a beach somewhere with the cool breeze. Well, I already had a boyfriend and the old school me was not about to hook myself another. I jumped on the next "boda boda" (a motorcycle for hire) to my boyfriend's house. As most of the men in this part of the world, he was waiting for me to fix dinner for his several visitors from Europe. At this point of my life I did not only suck at writing but also at cooking, but heh, I could die for this guy so I always gave my best to anything for him. I'm a natural multi tasker, at least that's what I thought, so I peeled the plantain put it to boil, set another pan of stew on the stove and since we had only two burners, I put the pan with rice on the charcoal stove and run to the dinning room and set the table. You know , with the glasses on the right side and silver to the left like I'd always seen in the fancy restaurants. I went back to the kitchen, started dishing out the stew and my boyfriend stormed in and started complaining of how I'd put the forks on the wrong side , I apologised, of coarse with a grin , I was already bursting myself. I opened the pan of rice and hmm, it was so soggy , you would think it was porridge. I threw it in the trash can and run to the restaurant across the street and bought cooked rice, what I should have done from the start. I took it straight to the table. I took the water jar next and had the platter of plantain in my hands when my dear boyfriend forcefully spat on the floor. My hands let go and the plantain was on the floor. All I had left to serve was the bought rice and the water. The stew had too much salt and this time not my fault because I don't eat meat so I couldn't test the stew. What an excuse? Well , he dumped me one year later. I don't know why he did though. If it was the cooking, he missed my awesome cooking that has improved over the years.