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Monthly Archives: August 2013

I’m feeling some kinda way

I watched Good Morning America this morning and was told a blogger got over a million views just by blogging about Miley Cyrus’s performance at the Video Music Awards earlier this week.

I’m like, “Now, how did she get that many views? Who is she?” And of course, “How can I do that?”

I’m feeling some kinda way, y’all. I don’t know how long she’s been blogging, but how in the world can one person get a million views on any given day? Okay, if you are the Pope, I can see it (didn’t he just start tweeting?), but the thought is just unbelievable to me. I’m going to research this lady to find out who she is and how she managed to get those results – probably knows someone who knows someone else.

And while I’m on the subject, I got a bone to pick with every celebrity I’ve ever supported so forgive my Ebonics. If I’ve paid money to see you in concert just about every time you came to Philly (Prince), bought your books (Danielle Steele, Terry McMillan and Sidney Sheldon – oh, he died in 2007, and you too, Steve Harvey), supported your movies (Tyler Perry, Spike Lee, Steven Spielberg), supported your television series (David E. Kelly – loved Ally McBeal, Boston Legal & Boston Public), watched your talk shows for years (ladies of The View, Phil Donahue, and of course, Miss Oprah), and Hillary Clinton – I got your book too, then you oughta return the favor and support me. You are not exempt either, Donald Trump, because I faithfully watch Celebrity Apprentice. You can have the next group of apprentices take on “How to Sell Enough of T. Anthony-Horton’s Book in an Hour to Make The Best Seller’s List” or you can at least tell a sistah in sixty seconds (crying sounds) how to market her product….

To continue, if I bought your designer clothes (there’s a name on every label; don’t have to be well known), paid to see you play ball & bought “For The Love of the Game My Story” (Michael Jordan), which I would like to have autographed, and watched American Idol, Simon, because of your nutty British azz, insulting folks, then surely you can purchase my book.

Y’all see where I’m going with this? Wouldn’t it be fair, not just for me, but for any struggling person who has supported someone else that they support you too, no matter what their celebrity?

I have to be honest though – when I hear someone’s book has been on the #1 Best Seller list for weeks, namely because of who they are, I get a little perturbed. If Steve Harvey wasn’t who he is, would anyone have paid attention to his book? Nope; not as much! And I’m using Steve as an example because a second movie is coming out from that one particular book he wrote.

And the chick who wrote about that greyness and its many shades had thee entire country talking (and she ain’t even from here!) – even the ladies on The View quizzed President Obama on it! Why can’t they talk about my book? It’s gray and has three shaded ladies on the cover.

See, it's shaded and gray!

See, it’s shaded and gray!

And how is it that unknown folks get the chance of a lifetime? Can’t think of any right now, but they’re out there!

Shonda Rhimes is my girl – a TRUE inspiration – Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal! Please. Pick up my book, Shonda – google T. Anthony-Horton and Office Antics & Sexual Liaisons. I salivate at the thought of writing a show or a pilot episode of something – anything!

What does it take to get a little noticeability… Tyler?

I’m feeling some kinda way, followers.

You all know I’m aiming for the stratosphere in reaching my goal of getting 100,000 views or more per day. When you all help me see the end result, we’re gonna celebrate!

Thanks for indulging a sistah while she vented.

She just dropped the mike!

Follow Up to “51 with braces”

“51 with braces” – I wrote that blog on July 7, 2013.

What? Did you guys think I wouldn’t give an update? 🙂

Last week, I went for my first consultation. I was asked what my expectations were.

“To have all the spaces in my teeth closed except for the front gap.”

“How much of the gap do you want to keep?”

“Huh?” I wasn’t quite sure how to answer because I had never considered the thought of ever having it closed. “What do you mean?” Basically, if I wanted a lot or a little closed. I responded “as little as possible.”

“That’s possible.”


The two things that make me special in my own head is my left-handedness and my gapped tooth smile.

My teeth will only be imprisoned for 18 months because the time it would take to completely close my gap is not needed (isn’t that great?). Another plus is no obvious problems other than the need to push back and pull together (wisdom teeth still intact). I must admit it warmed my heart to hear that although my teeth are spaced, I have taken pret-ty good care of ’em. That’s always a good thing to hear from your dental provider, right? Anyhoo, I chose Invisalign (clear aligners) which lessens my visits compared to having the metal mouth look. I’ll get a supply of (I don’t know how many) and will have to change them bi-weekly. They will be installed by my third visit. The second visit covers the teeth impressions, x-ray images of my face – that was amazing how the contraption swirls around your head and you see the images right before your eyes! They also took still photos, which are not going to be a pretty sight, given the way my mouth was stretched.

One more thing and I’ll let you go.

I’m leaned back in the chair, mouth open wide enough to swallow a large snow globe, upper teeth covered with gooey guck for impressions when the kid notices another kid choosing a bright and colorful retainer case.

“My dentist doesn’t have those colors,” she says.

“Oh, would you like one?” asks the assistant who was timing my impression.

“Ooh, yes, can I?!” So The Kid goes over and starts rummaging through the retainer cases. “Oooh, what pretty colors!” She’s enthralled.

At this point, air is going down my throat; I can’t swallow, and I’m listening to her go on and on about the freakin’ colors when I wanted to yell, “Choose one already, will you!”

“Oooh, can I have the pink one?!”

“She said, ‘take one!'” I thought in my head. I literally gagged. Never try to speak when your mouth is forced open and your top teeth are covered with molding!

“Oh, I’m sorry, mom!”

Double doink!

Bottom line – I’m getting my mouth taken care of and taking you along for the ride, and for those of you who mentioned you’re interested in Invisalign too, I’ll keep you updated and with photos to boot!

Please feel free to share your own dental stories (horror or not).

Thank you for following!

watch your kid cause I shouldn’t have to and why you gotta speak to them that way

I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. We’ve all been unnerved, angered, surprised, and left with our mouths left wide open from the way some folks treat their kids – especially at “the mall.”

Yesterday, a girlfriend and I went on a Megabus trip to the Harrisburg Mall (which is very nice, by the way) in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania – if you guys haven’t taken advantage of their cheap trips, you really should. For both of us, it cost $4.50 roundtrip, but I digress once again.

Being the observer that I am, I was people watching on a bench while waiting for my girl to come out of a store. I happened to be near two of those little rides that the kids can ride a minute or so for fifty cents. A few kids had already taken their turns when a little girl ran excitedly to get on. There were two older girls with her, but the mother never came near the ride – she went directly into one of the stores. After a time, the two older girls left the area and went to join the mother. The toddler who was no more than three years old stayed where she was, running around, enjoying freedom as a child her age should. Only problem was, I shouldn’t have been the one to watch her actions and make sure she didn’t hurt herself. This went on for a few minutes. From where I sat, I could see inside the store and not once did the mother come to check on the toddler. One of the older girls would peek from the store’s window, but never left to check on the kid either.

As the toddler continued to play by herself, a lone man came on the scene and stood by the railing, looking down on the shoppers below. The toy ride was the only thing separating him from me. I couldn’t see the kid anymore. I got up and walked around the ride to where “happy girl” was. There she stood right next to this male stranger, trying to mimic him as he leaned over the railing. I held my hand out and said, “C’mere, Sweetie.”

Sidebar folks – this is why I don’t believe in and have never taught my kid to “never speak to strangers” – a stranger can save your life or at the very least help. I never taught her to just go and talk to strangers either, but I think you guys feel where I’m coming from.

But, the little girl happily took my hand as I led her into the store that was more important to mom than the whereabouts of her kid. As I handed the babe off, I simply said, “She was running around by herself.” The mother angrily stared at the older child and said, “thank you” to me. As I walked away, I wondered what kind of trouble awaited the older kid. I shook my head.

Now, I was willing to watch the kid free of charge, but the babysitting fee would have raised drastically if I had to run after the child who was snatched by a pervert. Thank God it didn’t end that way, but you never know the intentions of others.

This is an actual photo of the mall I got from the internet. This is what the little girl saw as she was peering down.

This is an actual photo of the mall I got from the internet. This is what the little girl saw as she was peering down.

Story #2: I was in the fitting room, trying on jeans that didn’t completely cover my little ass (why do designers think everyone wants their cracks showing? How much material does it take to cover a butt as small as mine?) when from another room, someone was berating her child. She was yelling at the kid about how she couldn’t take her anywhere and why she “gotta touch that” and my all time favorite, “I’mma punch you in the face. You took all the beads off my bracelet.” I mean, every sentence was followed by another degrading one.

And my girl heard even more than I did – she said the girl told the little one, “That’s why I’mma leave your ass home next time” and “…always touching something.”

As I exited the fitting room, the bad parent did too – a young girl (not surprising), with the kid who was knee high to the door knob and younger than the one in the first story. I just shook my head. What kid no taller than your knee caps can keep their fidgety hands by their sides and not touch anything? You must have patience to have children, children!

I’m sure you all have seen some of the same mannerisms or worse. How does it make you feel when you witness that type of behavior and have you ever intervened?

Thanks for your feedback.

my appreciation to you

You know, when I write something – anything, that other folks read, I must make sure it’s interesting, thought provoking, entertaining, and a conversation piece. The more I write (blog), the more I learn about this whole blogging thing.

When I first signed up in June of this year, I didn’t know what my expectations were – I just knew I wanted to write and I’d have a forum with a listening audience. Upon learning about the different themes (what my page looks like) I could use and how much I’d want to enhance my page, it seemed I had a long way to go. I must admit that WordPress is chock full of information – so much so that I would need to take a few weeks from work in order to learn everything about the site. You read about this, it’ll take you to another place and then another and another… it’s all so interesting that you could possibly be clicking on different links all day long! This is the most comprehensive tool I’ve ever come across in learning anything.

I’ve also learned about advertising. I’ve heard so much about how you can get paid for blogging. Well, who wouldn’t want to get paid for something they love to do. I applied, and because of the package I chose, I was already entered into an ad program. Okay, so when can a sistah get paid, right?! I got in contact with WordPress to ask since I hadn’t heard anything from them about my application. I was told they monitor each account and if I do not get six digits of views per day, I’m not eligible! In case you can’t fathom, that’s a tremendous amount of traffic. Even though you guys visit my site EVERY single day (thank you), I need to add four more digits at the end of my daily views! So, I need you all to tell your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, teachers, preachers, doctors, lawyers, their assistants, their friends, family, co-workers, neighbors… you feel me?! It’s a vicious circle cycle (I don’t know if that makes sense, but I like the flow of it).

So, now that you know I’m on a mission – my 12 ft., will you help me? This is a personal goal that I am setting for myself, but I’m putting it out there in the universe – your universe. I’m clueless as to how long this will take, but I am going to work toward it and I have no doubt I can do it. I’ll continue to write interesting topics and will respond to every comment. It’s only fair that I do. If you take time to read my writings and hopefully, pass my site on to others, then I can surely acknowledge you. I have to keep you interested. I want you to tell your people about me. I want them to follow me. I have a goal to meet and I plan on reaching it.

I’m going to take this blogging thing to another level. I have no idea what the outcome will be, but in the meantime, I’m gonna ride this wave for as long as I can.

I’d appreciate if you rode along with me.

what is your 12 ft.? (an inspiring story of determination)

What you’re about to read is a real life story of a child’s determination and will power. It’s the stuff that TV movies and Afterschool Specials are made of (do they still make Afterschool Specials? I used to love ’em). But, this is about my kid who beat the odds and overcame her fear of swimming – all to participate in summer camp rowing lessons. Those of you who are my Facebook friends are already familiar with this event, but now you’ll read the entire story and I promise to take you there descriptively. I hope you all stay with me on this and read to the very end or at least in increments.

Last month, the kid (I affectionately refer to her that way in writing) had to take swim lessons to be eligible for rowing camp. On the Saturday before camp began, she had to pass the swim test in order to start camp that Monday. The class was only scheduled for 1/2 hr. The requirements were for her to swim a full lap and tread water for a minute – bam, that’s it!

The Kid getting a lesson before hitting the Schuylkill River

The Kid getting lessons before hitting the Schuylkill

There was only one problem – she didn’t know how to swim. At 11:00 on that Saturday morn, I repeat, she did not know how to swim.

There were three other girls in her group for the same reason; two of them passed and the other was petrified. I felt bad for the poor thing. Then there was my kid – the girl who wasn’t afraid of water – just couldn’t swim. When we vacationed in Wildwood, NJ, she always went a lit-tle too far in the ocean for me (I’ve since stopped her from doing that – my nerves, y’all). At our 2009 family reunion in Georgia, she innocently jumped into 12 ft. of water with no fear because she saw a cousin do it. She was saved by a lifeguard (and God). I had to fill out paperwork because that was considered “a save.” I never told hubby about it until recently when all this swimming stuff came up.

After the two girls passed the swim test, the coach focused on the kid and the petrified girl. The coach, Joe, was excellent – he worked with them by using paddle boards, foot fins, and a kind demeanor. I was looking at the clock, thinking they didn’t have much time left. “How can she pass the test in this short amount of time?”

When I tell you Joe worked with the kid and fed her with determination, please believe (by this time, hubby was outside on a cigarette break and had gotten really comfortable in a chair). I saw fear and uncertainty in her eyes and realized I had to pull out the real mother in me. It’s hard when you see disappointment in your child’s face. She was on the verge of tears and my heart ached for her because she wanted this so badly. I did what any supportive mother would do – I told her she could do it even though I knew she was afraid. I told her not to give up and “Give it God” and if she gave it all to Him, she’d be okay, and if she was still worried, her faith was not strong enough.

Like an obedient child, she said, “Okay, Mommy.” Then she said, “I want you to walk with me.” Hey, no problem. I walked the length of pool, encouraging her and seeing her come thisclose. The closer she got to 9 ft., the more she panicked. I’m like, “C’mon, baby, you can do this – you’re so close!” She didn’t make it – had to start all over again. I looked at the clock. We were close to an hour when the class was only for thirty minutes. I texted hubby to let him know we weren’t done; he was comfortable in his chair. Concerned about the time, I spoke to the coaches who told me the kid was not going to leave until she passed the test.

She tried a second time and panicked again at 9 ft. I saw her head go under. I’m praying, “Give her confidence, Lord, give her confidence.” I repeated it until I saw her give up. My heart sank… what do I say to my kid? I didn’t know. This is the hard part of parenting – when you’re at a loss for words.

She was on the side of the wall; elbows on top while the rest of her body dangled in the water. She put her head on her arms and cried. Joe went over and gave encouraging words, “You were so close. You can do this! I see that you want it.” I saw it too – sheer determination. My kid had it. I now know what it looks like.

They said, “We’ll give her another try. If she doesn’t make it, we’ll have to schedule more swim lessons.” So, I had to encourage my child and make her feel up to task. How could I do that effectively when I saw defeat in her face and body language? Sigh.

Her third try, she failed again. This time it was shoulder shaking crying. I hung my head low. “Now, what?”

As the kid went to the locker room, I spoke to Nicole, one of the rowing coaches. She and I discussed when and where to take the next swim lessons. It wouldn’t be at Penn Chart; we’d have to go to Sayre in West Philly. I reluctantly told her I’d call and make arrangements.

By the time we were about to leave, Nicole came running to meet us. “We’re gonna give her another chance – if you guys want to….” I looked to my child and asked if she was up to it. I let her make the decision. She said, “Sure, why not.”

This time she had three coaches in her ear. Nicole, Joe, and the other girl (I regret not getting her name) who was the real cheerleader. When I tell you those swim teachers and coaches would not let her leave until she passed, you gotta believe me! The cheerleader told my kid that she could see how much this meant to her and how badly she wanted it. She noted that when the kid panicked it was always in 9 ft., “when you’re so close to finishing.” She told her what to do when she panicked and how close 12 ft. is from 9 ft. She told her what to do when her feet went down and she felt the water getting deeper (all things I couldn’t). She gave her the real pep talk. I wish I knew her name!

After that, was the moment of truth. My girl got in 5 ft. I winked and told her, “You got this.”

On her last try, Joe swam in the lane next to her while the pep talker walked the 5 ft. to 12 ft., encouraging the kid as she swam the distance. It was truly something to see. I only wish I had recorded it.

Once she touched the wall at 12 ft., this momma here was jumping & shouting! Yes, y’all – I’m that mother! She told me all she heard was my mouth when she lifted her head from the water. My girl touched the wall at 12 ft.! When she got out of that pool and hugged me in all her wetness, it was thee best feeling ever. She did it! She shed tears of joy instead of tears of disappointment. Thank you, Jesus! And know this – because of the teachers’ dedication at Penn Charter, my kid learned how to swim! When she got there that morn, she did not know how to swim and couldn’t tread water either, but by 2:00 (yes, we were there for a little over three hours), she swam an entire lap, treaded and did some form of a breast stroke! Breast stroke? Who knew! All in the same morning, my kid went from nervousness, uncertainty and disappointment to elation & pride! God is truly awesome & works wonders!

I still get goose bumps when I think about it and write about it. When she tells her version, she just says, “I passed.” I shake my head at her nonchalance. This is truly a story of a child’s determination and will power. Heck, I’ve seen movies based on a lot less. I expect to get a call from the ladies of The View or at least be recognized for sharing. I kid you not – that’s my 12 ft., and now you understand exactly what the title of this blog means. My kid is an inspiration to me. And you know what? She can never ever say what she can’t do. She set the bar high for herself – poor thing don’t even know what she’s got in store for herself. I don’t know if she can still swim at this point, but like she said, “I can get to the edge or tread until somebody reaches me,” and that’s what she needs for rowing.

The Kid is 3rd from the left

The Kid is 3rd from the left

So, when your kid tells you, “I can’t!” – don’t believe that shit. Push them without breaking their spirit.

Thank you for taking the time to read this blog! I appreciate all of you! Me whispering, “now, go tell someone.”

Before I go, I ask – what is your 12 ft?

I’m excited!

Hey everybody!

I finally figured out how to post pictures within a blog!

If you go back to my tattoo writing, you’ll see I added a photo of my toy tattoo! I’m excited – just in case you haven’t noticed.

I’m also working on something for your reading pleasure, so be patient, my pets, as I get my thoughts together.

I promise you will be delighted, encouraged, smiling, and anticipating my next subject.

P.S. I’d like to thank you all for following and enjoying my writings – I aim to please every one of you through my words.