Black Coffee in Bed

Fuhgeddaboutit:

The pants arrived and they are low rise even though the web site did not clearly label them as such. I go to the store to return them and get a credit. I tried bending down to see if I could live with them and alas I flashed so there's no keeping them.

It's back to square one: enlisting the image consultant to suggest where I can buy a pair of white pants and a pair of jeans that will fit me well and look good.

I'm going to contact Organization by Design in late March and take it from there.

Surely there has to be a vendor that cuts a respectful pair of pants?

Sunday I went to the boutique and added money towards the layaway so soon [as of next Friday] the necklace will be mine. I would love if the shop owner offered layaway for the pocketbooks and scarves too.

In just four weeks it's spring and I cannot wait. That does not always bring warmer weather round here though. At least I will be able to wear my short pink punch coat instead of the long winter coat. A dose of optimistically inspired color to float on.

It is quiet here.

I've been obsessed with writing my second book which has 95 pages now and there's no stopping me. It could get published before the memoir. I have 20 copies printed to distribute to friends and colleagues for their honest feedback. I do this in July when I have some extra money. A friend has signed on to read the book.

In my fifties: fiction beckons.

I get inspired by the quotes in my appointment book. This week's caption to a steaming cup of coffee: "Your life must be sweet" one barista told him, "to take your coffee so bitter."

What a sweet life: to be a writer and do the things I enjoy. I'll take my coffee bitter any time should my life be so sweet.

95 pages and counting. Tonight I will complete chapter four and print up a copy of the manuscript to give to a friend on Sunday.

OK: I would like to pick up the necklace this weekend instead.

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Caroline, or Change is a great play. It was so sad and the reality shook me in a way no other secondhand account of the civil rights era has. Racism was and is inexcusable. Caroline is an uneducated woman who works as a maid raising three kids [the fourth is in Vietnam] alone in 1963. She fled her abusive husband who returned from the Navy in the 1950s and-unable to find work-hit the bottle and her. Her children would have opportunities she would never know.

The cast was great. My friend and I and some others in the audience rose up when Teisha Duncan [Caroline] took her bow.

I couldn't understand it: Why did the white stepmother need a maid? Couldn't she do all the chores herself? It was just her and her husband and his son. My mother never had a maid. One thing I wonder [and I'm not sure why]: what my mother thought about the lynchings in the South-if she thought about them at all. It chills me to think that that the last lynching took place just 10 years before I was born when Emmett Till was murdered.

Though a Yahoo answer revealed that in 1998 a trio of white supremacists killed an innocent African-American guy [define lynching].

That was what the Billie Holiday song "Strange Fruit" was about, right?

This is our history and a shameful one at that.

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Today I returned the pants and exchanged them for a pair of black sunglasses. I also bought an amethyst necklace from which hung an amethyst stone. A pink tee shirt set me back only $17 so I couldn't resist buying it as well.

Now I'm home typing in here. I wear the lipstick-red cashmere long sleeve tee shirt and the Esprit collection black jeans and my black jacket with the black ankle boots and the oversize red stone ring. That was my going-out outfit.

Alas the only pants and jeans Loft sells now are low rise and they just won't do.

The Squeeze song "Black Coffee in Bed" is always played on the radio now.

I don't drink coffee however if I did I'd take mine bitter.

Cheers.