Coils, vending machine coffee and gold dust

Yeah, if someone had told me two years ago that I would be living in Lorain, OH, wearing my hair in a natural afro and rocking gold eye-shadow...why I'd have laughed myself silly right in their face. I'm talking the boisterous, breathless, leg-kicking, oh-my-damn-I-gotta-pee laughter. Teary-eyed, weak-kneed I would stumble off to the bathroom, use it, return and continue right on laughing in the person's face. But...they would've been correct.

I am in Lorain. My hair is 100% natural, coily, kinky. And today I swiped some gold eyeshadow over my lids. I must admit it is such a sultry and rich look. Rhianna was on to something with the metallic eye make-up on 'ethnic' ladies. Every time I blink into a mirror I get tempted to go find a beach on a coast of Barbados and shake it out in the sand surrounded by fire.

Today, a little bit sleepy and a little bit desperate I purchased a 40 cent paper cup of coffee from the office vending machine. A weird thing for me to do because it's been over a year since I last purchased coffee from that unlikely source. I'd say smashed cigarette butts marinated in a mug of piss would've tasted better than the suspicious tan-colored concoction that Sonny and I sipped back in our days of newness to the workplace. But to my surprise, the coffee was alright this morning. I wasn't even tempted to trash it, as I had convinced myself I would (and gave myself permission to do).

My hair is lovely. Call it bragging, narcissism or whatever you want but my hair is gorgeous. It's nappy as a nest of steel wool and can be just as dry but that doesn't bother me. I spritz it with water and Sta-sof-fro and sometimes I rub in some humectress. After a few minutes it's soft and happy and I can pick it with my purple hair pick to get it ready for a style. I wonder if I just had a lot of growing up to do before I could lift my head proudly and display my naps and not give a shit cake what others thought or said about it. There are too many unenlightened souls out there about African American hair texture...their own damn hair. Maybe someday they'll save themselves (and their hairlines).

I can't say I'm deliriously happy here, but I admit I am content. And my love for Sonny Boy seems to grow a little more each day. I want to look at him all the time and hold his hand and kiss him. He's just the best thing that ever happened to me. Of course, this could just be the moment of joyous, mid-air suspension that comes indefinitely during a moodswing. That means I could come crashing to earth from Heaven at any moment. LOL, last weekend I was happy just to be on the other side of the city from Sonny (doing my own thing in Pat Catan's)... So I dunno. But whatever the cause of what I'm feeling for my Boy, I'm Sonny swooning this week :)

And that's my life in a nutshell these days. How are things in your section of the world??