Stronger

“N- n- now th- that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
cause I can't wait much longer
I know I got to be right now
Cause I can't get much wronger
Man I've been waitin' all night now
That's how long I've been on ya” – Stronger by Kanye West

I have one of those old school radios in my car with the plastic knob to change the channels.

One of those decks where you have to literally PUSH the individual preset button to make the orange bar behind the clear glass with numbers move. And once you find the channel you want, you have to PULL it out to set it.

Younger folks might not even know what the hell I’m talking about because all they know is digital, but old school folks know about analog radios.

Awhile ago, something got jammed in the middle, because now the orange bar can only access the far right side of the spectrum 104 MHz and up.

So when it comes to listening to a radio station clearly in my car, I only have 3 choices.

The Mexicans Hip Hop show in the morning, an all Spanish speaking station and a praise the Lord Jesus station.

There’s a couple of preachers that I like to catch on the Jesus channel when I can, but as I was driving home this particular evening, I had it on the Mexicans Hip Hop radio station.

I’m not playing either, if you listen to them in the morning around 630, they actually say, ‘Good morning, we’re the MEXICANS! Getcho az out of la cama!!!”

So I’m listening to the station, and this song comes on and I found myself bobbing my head to the beat, and it was JAMMING, so I turned the volume up to see if I could understand the lyrics. (I can’t always understand what rappers are saying)

“You know how long I've been on ya?
Since Prince was on Apollonia
Since OJ had Isotoners
Don't act like I never told ya”

I’m old school hip-hop; I still listen to the lyrics, cuz I like to know what they’re talking about. But as I was pulling up into my driveway that verse, ‘Since OJ had isotoners’ caught my ear and I smiled.

Since I’m a person who’s old enough to vividly remember the OJ Simpson Case, all the way from the white Bronco chase broadcast during the Houston Rocket’s first Championship run, to Johnny’s closing, “If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit”, it occurred to me that my iPod wearing, video watching, PSP playing children probably listen to this song and have no idea what, ‘Since OJ had isotoners’ is referring to.

So I decided to put them to the test.

My son is the musical lyricist of the family, he can recite Jay Z, TI, Young Joc lyrics like most young teenage boys in the hood. But he also has another ‘Kanye’ style level that a lot of hood youngsters can't get on.

Black Eyed Peas. Creed. Ty Tibbet. Sade. Lauryn Hill. Anthony Hamilton. Stevie Wonder. Baby Face. Cynthia Scott.

We keep a variety in the CD changer for him to listen to.

Rap is cool, but I like my kids to be well rounded musically. Open your mind mane.

ALL you listen to is screwed up rap music??? Wow. Stuck in the hooood!!

So I walked into my son’s room..

Is that Kanye West who sings that song that goes, “Don’t act like I ain’t never told ya”??

(smiling, cuz he thought I was too old to be that hip to know the song) Yes sir.

What’s the name of the song?

Stronger.

Stronger? Hmm..I like it, it’s jamming.

I like it too.

Do you know that part that goes, ‘Since OJ had isotoners’?

Yeah, I know that part.

Do you know what that means?

Uhh..huh?

Do you know who OJ Simpson is??

Isn’t he that dude who killed his wife?

What makes you think he killed his wife??

Because that’s what they say all the time on the radio.

(Hmmm…media is a powerful mind controlling tool for the masses. Note to self.)

Actually, OJ Simpson was found not guilty in a criminal court of law of murdering his wife and Ronald Goldman.

Well, why do they say he killed her?

I think it makes a lot of people feel better to say that.

Do you think he killed her?

I don’t know for sure, I wasn’t there. But it’s actually an eerie transversal of what happened to the black guy in To Kill A Mockingbird. You remember that book right?

Yeah, that’s the one you gave me with the girl named Scout and her father was a lawyer, umm..I can’t remember the father’s name?

Atticus. Atticus Finch.

Right! Atticus Finch defended the black guy for raping the white woman?

That’s it. When Harper Lee published that book in the early 60's, it was revolutionary because it lit a lot of social fires. Although it was a work of fiction, what happened was very reflective of the real racial disparities in the judicial system in the rural South. A black man literally didn’t have a chance when being accused of committing a crime on a white woman. OJ was a black man that was acquitted in a criminal court of murdering two white folks, it’s a rarity here in America, even today.

Papa says that black folks can’t get away with the same stuff that white folks get away with.

In a lot of cases that’s true, the main thing you need to know, is that wrong is wrong, no matter what color you are. Johnny Cochrane (a black guy from Shreveport) was the lawyer that got OJ acquitted, and the legendary quote in his closing statement had to do with a glove that was found during the investigation. The prosecutors speculated that the killer had left the glove after committing the murder. So Johnny Cochrane had OJ try the glove on for the court, judge and jury to see, and when OJ tried to put the glove on, it was obvious that it was too small for his hands. “If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit.”

But what does isotoner mean?

That’s just a type of glove that’s closefitting. Isotoner gloves.

Oh.

So OJ was found not guilty in the criminal court, but later in the civil court they found him guilty.

What does that mean?

It means, that all the money OJ was making from endorsements and acting in movies stopped completely and all the assets he owned (except his primary residence) had to be turned over. Just like what happened to Mike Vick this year, OJ’s money making days were over. He was a Hall of Fame football player too. He still has a lot of records that stand in the NFL today.

But at least OJ lived. The black guy in To Kill a Mockingbird was found guilty and he died.

Death can be a relative term son. Just because a man is still breathing, doesn’t always means that he’s alive. There’s a physical death, but there’s also a spiritual death. We all have to go through one, but we don’t have to die twice..it’s a choice we all have to make on our own. You know what choice I’m talking about right?

You mean how we all have to choose to make good decisions?

And what’s the most important decision a man will make in his life?

Whether or not he accepts Jesus as Lord and Savior?

(smiling) Don’t act like I never told ya!

The Legend of Super Dave

I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a ‘super-hero’ complex, but if there is, I’m sure I have it.

Some superheroes are born with superpowers; some acquire them via some weird happenstance, like being catapulted onto the earth from another planet in outer space.

I think I have a combination of both, because I’ve always been Naturally Crunk.

But during my childhood, I also experienced many episodes of blunt trauma to the head.

I was very clumsy and my peripheral vision took awhile to develop, I had an extreme case of tunnel vision. Zero in on what I wanted and pay no attention to anything else that was in the way.

BOOM!!! (Loud crying)

What happened???

D ran into the glass table and bust his head wide open!!!

Again???!!!

I kept a various array of knots, bumps and bruises on my forehead. And after my last trip to the emergency room to get x-rays to see if my ankle was broken (I had jumped off the top of my bunk bed in another episode of ULTRA-MAAAN!!), I had to talk to a couple of Child Protective Service agents.

Did your father hurt you?

Huh? I fell.

I know, but does your father ever hurt you?

Yeah, he gives me whuppings all the time.

Does he hit you in the face?

No, he hits me on the butt with belts and switches.

What about your mother? Does she hurt you?

Yeah, she whups me more than my daddy do.

All the time, they had my father in another room interrogating him. My father isn’t the type of person who has a lot of patience with white people trying to get in his business.

Hell yeah I whup his butt when he gets out of line, he’s MY son!! If ya’ll got a problem with it, then ya’ll take him and clothe him and feed him everyday!!

When we were leaving the hospital going back to the car (no broken bones, just a bad sprain) I knew we weren’t going to be coming back there unless I was near death. Especially when my daddy looked at me and asked me, ‘What the hell were you telling them white folks??”

Fortunately, I made it through childhood healthy and alive.

I was having some problems in grade school and paying attention at home. Every time somebody said something to me they had to repeat it, because I would give them this confused look and be like, ‘Huh??”

It got so bad, that my mother thought I was having some sort of inner ear disturbance or something. My dad just looked at me and shook his head, “Something just ain’t right with that boy, he acts like he retarded.”

I had to go to one of those doctors where they test your hearing and cognitive thinking skills. By the time the examination was over, the doctor, flipped off his stethoscope and said, “His hearing is perfectly fine Ms. Washington. So are his motor skills. He hears you, he’s just ignoring you.”

Once that doctor said that, and my momma paid him his fee, she zeroed in on me like a Patriot missile 0n a Scud missile. Zero tolerance was in effect.

Mess up and do something you know you’re not supposed to? Butt whupping and go sit in your room with no TV, radio or toys. All I could do was sleep, stare at the wall or read a book. And thus, my penchant for the written word was born. I spent a LOT of time in isolation.

My dad tells folks all the time that I normally had to get 3 whuppings a day, all before lunchtime. And by the time I got that 3^rd whupping, I was okay for the rest of the day. Hard head boys are different from ‘normal’ children.

Some people don’t think corporal punishment is a ‘humane’ thing to do to a child.

I’m on the other end of the spectrum. If it wasn’t for those butt whuppings that my mother, father, grandparents, aunts and uncles put on my behind, I’d be a different person. The village definitely raised me.

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. - Proverbs 22:6 KJV

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. - Ephesians 6:4 NASB

Hard heads make soft butts and pretty soon, you’ll get tired of being punished all the time and you learn to obey. Once a child understands stop and sit down? Let the discipline begin.

Fast forward to the teenage years. My senior year in high school, at the renowned Booker T. Washington and the High School for Engineering Professions in Studewood, Texas.

Booker T. was the first public school in Houston that allowed black students to attend at the turn of the century.. Back then it was called ‘Colored High’ before it moved to its current location on Yale and East 39^th.

Principal F.D. Wesley walked those halls of Booker T. for 50 years and molded thousands of young black minds. Although he passed away this past summer, he will always be my principal along with all the rest of the students whose diploma he signed.

I'm so glad, Jesus set me free.

Sing glory, halleluia, Jesus set me free!

I was at a high school Houston Area Model United Nations (HAMUN) conference at the University of Houston when I got the call.

Hello?

Hey son.

Wazzup Dad?

A letter came in the mail today from Stanford and since it had my name on it, I opened it.

(My heart skipped a beat..this was the week that college acceptance/rejection letters were sent out) You opened my mail???

It had MY name on it!!

(I had to let the invasion of privacy issue go, my dad could get belligerent when he wanted to)

What does it say?

You got in. Congratulations.

I could barely remembering hanging up the phone, because you just get kinda numb when something you REALLY want comes to fruition. My grades, test scores and essay were good enough, I was accepted to Stanford University!! Yeah!

Unfortunately, a couple of my classmates at Booker T. had already received their rejection letters from Stanford, so I didn’t want to just gloat and rub it in their face. So instead I took a ride to my podna LaGette Kemp’s house in Hillwood, because I knew he would be happy for me.

He was having another one of his famous house parties and it was CRUNK by the time I got there, and as soon as he opened the door, I started smiling.

Wazzup D??

He could tell by the look on my face that something was up.

I got in to Stanford.

It was the first time I had said it out loud and it made my whole body smile.

NO SH’T!!??!!! SAY MANE!! Ya’ll turn the music down!! My boy D.Wash is going to STANFORD mane!!!

I was greeted with shoulder slaps, hugs from all the honeys, high fives and of course all the beer and liquor I could drink. Southside love. A lot of hard heads never make it out of the hood. God had a different plan for me.

Stanford has a week in the spring that all prospective freshmen (ProFro’s) can come and visit the campus and get acclimated to what Stanford life is like.

More specifically, the black community at Stanford has a Black Recruitment Orientation Committee which targets the incoming black freshman.

When I arrived at the airport in San Francisco, the first person I met was this other ProFro from Charlotte, North Carolina named Zerrick Bynum. We rode on the same shuttle together over to the dormitory we would be staying in for the weekend, Ujamaa.

The African American Theme House is called Ujamaa, a Swahili word that means Cooperative Economics. Ujamaa is also one of the 7 principles of Kwanzaa. A holiday created by this guy named Dr. Maulana Karenga, to focus more on the African tradition of celebrating. Not necessarily Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, but just geared toward a celebration of the black family and community.

Ujamaa is an L-shaped 2 –story dorm that’s separated into two wings, A-wing and B-Wing. It was during BROC weekend that I had my first experience with the infamous ‘B-Wing’. You might hear some Public Enemy or see a biggo Red, Black and Green flag hanging on a door when you walk through B-Wing.

1st floor was all women. 2^nd floor Men. Community bathrooms in the middle of the hall.

We were hanging out in B-Wing in the lounge. Watching Cosby Show and A Different World. Laughing. Talking. You might catch a REALLY deep conversation concerning the African Diaspora’s Effect on Dance in the West Indies. Or you might catch a completely MEANINGLESS heated debate on which was better, Cocoa Puffs or Dig’em Smacks.

I ended up spending most of my time hanging out with this guy named Mike from Cincinnati, (the nasty NATI!!). Mike had muscles bulging everywhere. Since I really didn’t have any family or friends within thousands of miles, I figured “If a fight breaks out, I want HIM on my side!!” So we became friends. Running buddies. Podna’s. We were cocky, brash and arrogant. We were both young men finding our paths of maturity.

We were both going to attempt to jump from the 1^st landing area of stairs on B-Wing and grab and hold on to the ledge on the 2^nd floor. Leading from the lounge is a staircase to the second floor. It’s one of those wide staircases that you could bring a grand piano up on it if you wanted. It had 2 sets of steps, once you reached the landing area, the 2^nd set turned back the other direction, but still going up. I don’t know WHAT made us decide to try this crazy stunt, but we had an audience, we were excited to be in a new environment, and we wanted to show out for the ‘honeys’. In case you forgot, this is how 17 year old boys get attention from women. they ‘show out’. So I went first.

When I jumped, I had a moment’s hesitation as I took off. “You know…you MIGHT not make it to the ledge” but I brushed this off and tried anyway. I made it to the ledge, with my right hand, but my left didn’t quite make it. Instead of giving up immediately and balancing myself for the fall, I tried to shift my weight and THROW my left hand up on the ledge…mistake. I lost my grip with my right hand and fell down a flight of stars. horizontally.

When I landed on the floor of 1^st Floor B-wing I was thankful that the architects of that building had saw fit to build the hallways elevated off of the concrete foundation. Because when I hit the floor, I literally bounced. A couple of times. Wood and concrete are both hard to fall on but if I had my druthers, I’d take the wood. Once the loud thud resonated throughout the hallway, lounge, campus, there was an eerie silence.

What was THAT???

Oooooooh!!! Are you alright??

Is he moving???

Is he breathing???

What happened, did he fall?

I lay motionless. Trying to wait until the tingling sensation down my right side subsided. Hmm..can I move my fingers? Can I move my toes? Is my back broke??

Slowly but surely the numbness wore off…good, nothing broken. They slowly helped me to my feet.

Are you ok?

Do you need to go to the doctor?

Yes, I’m ok. No, no doctor. Damn this is embarrassing.

Everybody was staring at me to see if I was going to collapse, cry or smile.

Being the showman that I am, I gave a weak smile and joked, “now let’s see YOU do it Mike.”

Everybody laughed. Some even howled.

He’s ok!! He’s alright! Now it’s ok to laugh at his crazy az!!! Who IS that?? That’s that crazy brother from Houston. What’s his name? David I think..We SHOULD call him Super Dave!!! (like the tv stuntman, Super Dave Osborne.)

The really wild part, is that even after I almost broke my back, Mike tried the same stunt and pulled it off!!! I can’t stand show-offs. Shoot. Anyway.

The rest is history.

Super Dave and his sidekick Mike Pick.

And here it is almost 20 years later and I’m STILL pulling stunts (see Hittin Licks) just on a less physical level. Most of the stunts I pull now are with the pen. And my podna Mike is still as determined as ever, as evidenced by his rise to the position of Chief Financial Officer (CFO) of Black Entertainment Television Networks, which I think is a pretty cool deal.

Biting the Nail

I'm at the point now, that whenever I sit down with my pen to write, I always say a prayer first.

I used to just write indiscriminately, no matter what mood I was in, whether I was angry or drunk, happy or hurt, I'd just let it flow and stamp it as 'all the way real' and go on.

But something happened to me one day and I just kinda..grew up.

Or rather I should say, I'm continuing to grow.

Whenever I put things in a spiritual perspective, I find that my path is always more lucid and clear.

So once I acknowledged the Lord I serve, then the task became, channeling a writers work with an engineering mind.

I could see where majoring in English Literature or one of those 'fuzzy' courses as all liberal arts courses are commonly called at my alma mater Stanford University (our football team whupped USC AZ this week!! GO CARDINAL!) , would have helped me a lot in my writing world.

But instead of lamenting what could have been, I always like to enjoy the reality of what God had already planned for me and the path that I have taken.

It is what it is.

People always ask me, 'Well what do engineers do??" and my common answer is 'We engineer things. We make it work."

And one of the most common engineering principles is, if it ain't broke, see if you can make it better.

The basic design of the wheel hasn't been improved upon in centuries.

If it's round, it will roll.

So when I looked at the common formula for writers, and what those who have broken through and published fantastic literary works have done, I ran across this marvelous book called, On Being a Writer, edited by Bill Strickland.

It has interviews and quotes from famous and prolific writers such as Norman Mailer, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Truman Capote, Kurt Vonnegut, Nikki Giovanni, to name a few.

I always like getting real accounts from real people.

And there's a chapter in there with an interview of Ernest Hemingway at his home in Havana by Edward P. Stafford written in 1958 that really illuminated the writer's task to me and my engineering mind.

Here are a few excerpts:

My wife needled him. "Is it true," she asked, "that you take a pitcher of martinis up into the tower every morning when you go up to writer?"

"Jeezus Christ!" Papa was incredulous. "Have you ever heard of anyone who drank while he worked? You're thinking of Faulkner. He does sometimes, and I can tell right in the middle of a page when he had his first one. Besides, " he added, "who in hell would mix more than one martini at a time anyway?"

"What about hours?" I asked. "How long can you actually be productive on a daily basis? How do you know when to stop?"

"That's something you have to learn about yourself. The important thing is to work every day. I work from about seven until noon. Then I go fishing or swimming, whatever I want. the best way is to always stop when you are going good. If you do that you'll never be stuck. And don't think or worry about it until you start to write again the next day. That way your subconscious will be working on it all the time, but if you worry about it, your brain will get tired before you start again. But work every day. No matter what happened the day or night before, get up and bite on the nail."

********

"How do you ever learn to convey every sensation, sight and feeling to the reader? Just keep working at it for 40 odd years the way you have? Are there any tricks?

"No, the hardest trade in the world is the writing of straight, honest, prose about human beings. But there are ways you can train yourself."

"How?"

"When you walk into a room and you get a certain feeling or emotion, remember back until you see exactly what it was that gave you the emotion, remember back until you see exactly what it was that gave you the emotion. Remember what the noises and smells were and what was said. Then write it down, making it clear so the reader will see it too, and have the same feeling you had. And watch people, observe, try to put yourself in somebody else's head. It two men argue, don't just think who is right and who is wrong. think what both their sides are. As a man, you know who is right and who is wrong; you have to judge. As a writer, you should not judge, you should understand."

*********

"Is it a good thing to talk over your work with other people, other writers? is that a way to learn? It has often seemed to me that most of the great talents of the century were living in Paris in the twenties when you were, and you all knew each other. You must have talked about writing - and it must have helped?"

"Good conversation with good people is always stimulating, especially after work. You can talk about writing generally, about words and when you are learning and trust or respect another writer, he can help you with the blue pencil and in other ways- but never talk about a story you are working on. If you tell it, you never write it. You spoil the freshness, you mouth it up and get rid of it to the telling instead of the writing. Writers should work alone, then talk."

Maintaining

How's that saying go?

"An ounce of prevention is worth more than a pound of cure?"

I believe that.

I got a chance to see that mantra up close and in person after working over 10 years in the manufacturing industry.

I've seen people spend over a $100,000 on a piece of equipment and never maintain it.

They just ignore it until there's a problem and usually, the problem could have been solved a lot easier if it had been detected earlier.

That oil leak you see in your driveway isn't going to 'magically' disappear.

That's why it's very important to go through regularly scheduled maintenance procedures.

To make sure all your fluid levels are adequate, all your belts are tightened, all your filters are clean.

It's not just about machinery either. This same mantra applies to dental and medical issues.

If you get your teeth cleaned twice a year, you're a LOT less likely to need a root canal down the road.

It's not always an easy thing, staying properly 'maintained'.

Especially if you're like me, I have an aversion to needles and doctors who want to probe their finger into my anal cavity or even worse, the ol Q-tip through the urethra.

Just the thought gives me the creeps and makes me want to shudder. Yech!!

People have different levels that they take their spiritual faith onto the medical realm.

I ain't go waste my time going to no doctor!! When God is ready to call me home, I'm going home!!

It sounds like a 'righteous' response, but yet I've never seen anyone just literally get sick one day and die immediately.

There's usually a process of warning signs that happens. Symptoms that appear that let a person know, 'Something ain't right with me."

I spent the first 2 years of my marriage as a non-church attender.

I knew enough of the Bible to be dangerous.

"I don't have to go to nobody's church to go to heaven!!"

Which is true. Church attendance is not a Biblical requirement of salvation as is displayed by Jesus' response to the non-church going thief on the cross next to Him:

"And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise." - Luke 23:42-43

I used that thief on the cross many times when my mom or dad or one of my grandmothers tried to chide me for not attending regular praise & worship services.

But then one day, I started leaking oil.

As most leaks, it started kinda small. Like a drop or two in the driveway.

Eventually, it grew into a full blown oil puddle.

But I ignored it, somehow hoping it would just magically stop and go away, because I just didn't want to deal with it at the time.

The check oil light in the car was never meant to be a maintenance reminder. It's actually a functional ALERT for something that you shoulda already taken care of.

A $20 oil change is a lot cheaper than having to buy a new motor.

So often, people wait until they have a major crisis going on, divorce, sickness, unemployment before they take their heart in to get worked on by God.

It is often in these times of desperation that you end up going before the church, crying and slanging snot everywhere, asking for forgiveness, asking for the church to help you from getting your house foreclosed on.

Not to say that church attendance or faith will keep you from foreclosure.

But the thing I do know, is that your faith will keep you from going crazy or having a complete meltdown when you do go through life's trials and obstacles.

I do attend regular church services now. Good ol Baptist folks..YES-SUH!!

But when my time came to shake my pastor's hand, as he extended me that right hand of fellowship, it wasn't about money or job or sickness at the time, it was just about me and my commitment to God.

Since that day, I've grown to NEED church services. I need corporate prayer, praise, preaching and teaching.

From Devotion to the Benediction, I feel blessed to be in the house of the Lord.

I know God's church is not a physical one confined by walls.

God's Church is the body of Christ. The Believers who stand up on faith are the Church.

So, if you have breath in your body, and the strength to stand up and walk, and gas in your gas tank..why can't you give the Lord some of your time?

There are 168 hour in a week and people can't find the time, love or energy to give God 1 hour? (2 in a Baptist morning service)

I dunno, people are strange.

It's almost as if they think God is a damn fool.

Of course, I'm not talking about those who don't believe in God and His Word, that's a whole different scenario altogether.

But those who believe, need to stay properly maintained.

Give Him some time mane. Fo real.


"Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching." - Heb 10:23-25

I learned that once you accept Christ, you can no longer limit yourself by the thief on the cross or any other mortal.

Salvation is not a static position for the Believer, we have to strive toward Christ in our walk.

On the Southside, we just call it, 'maintaining'.

You Know What It Is

So, I have been requested (by several different people in several different manners) to be a more frequent presence on the scene.

"You need to post more stuff D..I be ready to read everytime you drop." - Southside Hustler

"I ordered all my grandsons a copy of your book for Christmas, they need Jesus anyway they can get Him!" - Northside Grandma

"All I know, if my husband don't make a change in his life, I'm not going to be able to stay with him. If he read some D.E. Washington and don't start loving me more like I deserve, I'll be like Juanita Bynum. She said she loved her husband (Bishop Weeks) so much that she'd marry him TWICE!! Hmph..but this first marriage was over!! Praise Jesus!" - Southside Desperate Working Wife

Okay, I just made myself laugh, 'Southside Desperate Working Wife'..that's funny.

The wild part is, that I'm actually a reclusive person in disguise.

My wife pointed this out to one of our friends who was over at the house visiting one day.

"Girll, you know D had us cracking up at work on that last email he sent out. He's so outgoing and always ready to be the life of the party."

"You know..my husband has his moments, but most of the time he's really quiet and off to himself. He'll talk to people, but he does have his modes of minimal interacting. (smiling) He just crazy."

That's my baby doll! She knows I'm crazy as hell, but loves me anyway!

Sigh. How sweet. Real Love mane.

I don't know what ya'll marriage vows that you made before God said, but ours had this part in there 'Til death do us part'. And I take vows very seriously.

"When thou shalt vow a vow unto the LORD thy God, thou shalt not slack to pay it: for the LORD thy God will surely require it of thee; and it would be sin in thee. " - Duetoronomy 23:21

It is what it is.

Even though I'm silent sometimes, I'm always striving to keep it real. I'm staying on my course. Writing everyday, studying the Bible, reading, praying,attending praise and worship services, loving. I know that there is always more room for me to grow in Christ.



So this next month or so, I'm making a concerted effort to be more visible, posting more frequently, like back when I first started Hittin Licks on the blogosphere over 4 years ago. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm a lot stronger with the pen than I was then.