So...whatchu doing?

At this moment, I am loosening my braids; I have water on the fire for noodles, and I am all set up to give Baby Z his evening bath.

This is my life now - extreme multi-tasking. So extreme I get cross-eyed with feelings that range from self-pity to rage to 'I want my mummy' homesickness. Sad, since this is my home.

Depressing, if I think too much about it.

So I don't - I think instead of the dishes that have been in the sink for the past 3 days...at least, we have eaten.

I think of the clothes that have been in the machine since yesterday...no be my mates they use hand wash.

I think of...my daughter dancing like a white chick to Britney Spears.

I think of Papa Goo playing video games with her while Baby Z sleeps and Mummy is in a timeout. Sssh. Do not disturb,

I think of my Dad. I wish I could call him.

I can't complain.

Actually I can but I don't want to. At least, not right now. cos The Goo is dancing like a white chick. Papa Goo is bathing Baby Z, and I'm smiling cos I've been giving a reprieve from the crazybusiness of it all.

For now.

Wowwy Wow Wow!

Just one post this year!

Wow!

I did not know that...I had put up only one post (so far) this year.

How did that happen? Well, I'm glad you asked.

First off, internet woes - here's looking at you Spectranet *wink*

Then, been busy busy busy - edited one anthology.
It's been sent off to a couple of publishers, now we wait with fingers crossed, on bended knees.
Then edited one book for a client.
Now in the middle of editing another anthology.
Details coming very soon (soon and very soon), just waiting for certain people to send in their stories. I won't be calling names or pointing fingers, but they know who they are.

Also been busy with non-work stuff - like being The Goo's Social Director and Stylist and Escort.

Participating in a Married vs. Single Ladies Cooking Competition (a cook-off?) at Church,

and just being generally busy, and tired and living life...like it's golden.

Hee hee.

Anyway, here's a little something something from me to you. Enjoy!

The recently developed off-planet colony of Nirvana was up and running. Marketed by the Relocate Earth Department of the United Nations as the home of the future for all who loved beauty and creation, it had drawn the brightest and the best of Earth's Recreative Movement. Of course, the brightest and the best needed their support system, so Nirvana was also home to maids, drivers, cooks, teachers, and spiritual directors.

Oh and Tech Support. You can't have an off planet colony running like clockwork without Tech Support. Enter T.

"Call me T", she was known to say. She loved Nirvana. She had always been idealistic, believing that Utopia was out there somewhere, so when she heard that the United Nations and a few Mega Corporations had been secretly developing an off planet colony just outside Earth's solar system, she was ecstatic.

"Nothing to get excited about babe", her friend Z, had told her, "I mean daddy says it will take forever before it's finished, and even then it will be an uber-exclusive set of people who will be relocated".

"I'll find a way", T had replied, and she had. Her friendship with Z had been instrumental. You see Z's daddy was a cosmetic surgeon. He straddled the line between recreative and support system. He was definitely getting on The Nirvana List.

"Big Daddy", T said to him, over the phone, "how are you going to get me on that list?"

"Why are you calling? Aren't you coming over?"

"Nah. Z asked me to go clubbing with her, and she'll get suspicious if I blow her off".

"Come home with her then. You can come to my room when she's asleep".

"Yes sir", she said, grinning, and hung up.

That night, he promised to think about it, but T knew he was lying, so she when she snuck back into her friend's room in the wee hours of the morning she put Plan B into play.

"Z, you know you and your dad are getting on the list".

"Probably, but The United Nations isn't as squeaky clean as it used to be. That list is going to be up for grabs to the highest bidder".

T sighed, "I wish I had money like you guys. I would so pay for a place on that list".

"Aaaw. Don't worry. You know you're my girl. I'll talk to daddy. We'll find a way".

Two days later, Z called. "T baby, guess what?"

"What?"

"Your name's getting on the list", Z screamed.

T screamed too, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so much. You are the best friend ever".

"You know it. You’ll be on the list as my Backup Buddy".

"Backup Buddy?"

"Don't worry. It's just a new department. It's a not a lot of work, and you get paid Mega Bucks".

Mega Bucks? T was sold, in more ways than she realised.

When they got to Nirvana, Z and her daddy moved to The Estate. T moved to a nameless shanty town. A few days later, Z drove her hovercraft too close to a gas flare. She survived, but lost an arm.

Enter the Backup Buddy.

Two years in, and Z's reckless living had cost T two arms and both legs. Cutting edge technology ensured the perfection of Nirvana a la Z remained unmarred. T was support system. Perfection was not a requirement.

But at least she was in Nirvana.

THE END...so far

Tomorrow (hopefully) - Pictures and Stuff. Have a great day!

Back Story Monday: And The Man Died

If you know me, or of me, you would know that my father passed away some years ago.

Four years ago.

Some days before Christmas Day.

But I've gotten ahead of myself. This is Back Story Monday. The day I give you a little insight to whatever happened to Gypsy Black. My little fashion revolution.

Well, I had been running Gypsy Black for two years with funds from investors who were also my cousins. Unfortunately it had been two years, and a whole lot of money was spent with not a kobo made. My investors were not happy, and needed me to give them reasons to continue, outside of "Hey, what's a couple of millions among family?". So I got a friend to do the books, did some more research, and got ready to placate my investors. I didn't think they would pull the plug, but I needed to be sure, and I wanted them to be comfortable with their decision to bet on me and my dream.

I remember talking to my Dad on the phone about it, and he asked how I was going to pay them back, and I informed him it wasn't a loan; it was an investment. They were not my debtors; they were fellow shareholders in this enterprise. He seemed pleasantly surprised, and said, "I'm proud of you". My father was not a man to give praise easily so it felt good to hear him say that.

That was the last time I spoke to him. A couple of days later he was dead.

What does this have to do with Gypsy Black? Well, enter The Relatives from The Village. 

...My father died in December. We were allowed to bury him in April. Why? Because we had to finish the 10 bedroom house that he had started and abandoned. And I use the word 'finish' loosely because the house had been started on marshland and had sunk halfway underground. So basically, we had to tear down and start again.

I couldn't leave my mum's side and I mean literally because I was afraid she would be kidnapped. By whom (or is it who)? The Relatives from The Village. Apparently, she was supposed to go stay in the village to mourn her dead husband. But...the corpse wasn't in the village, why would she be required to go there? Well, apparently as part of my late father's property, she was to be shared amongst the male relatives. This practice is customary in my part of the country. The wife is shared, so she can be protected and taken care of. So why were we uncomfortable with the request? Well, you see, there was a catch. The relative who got the wife, got the property. So it really wasn't about my mum; it was about property, specifically a 10 bedroom house we were being forced to build.

Sigh.

So here I was, by my mum's side, making sure she didn't cry too much; dealing with my relatives; keeping an eye on my siblings and planning a burial that The Relatives from The Village were determined to turn into a carnival.

By the time, we had buried him. I was exhausted. I saw the body once for probably 15 seconds before he was put in the ground. Before then, the last time I saw him was in August. I couldn't even say goodbye properly because there was such a crowd at the grave screaming and crying. Sure, don't mind me. I'm only trying to bury my father. Of course your loss is unbearable. Your grief supersedes my own.

I hated them all.

And I was so angry.

And so tired.

I just wanted them all to leave so I could say goodbye.

But no, they just kept coming. To tell us sorry. To say your father was a great man. To say your father has touched many people. I didn't care. It didn't matter. My Daddy was gone. All I had left was my mum, and my siblings. My world became black and white. It became about them. Would you help me take care of them? Then, welcome. Were you trying to hurt them or take advantage of them? Then I would do everything I could to protect them.

I didn't have the energy for anything else. Especially not a business that hadn't turned a profit yet. I didn't have the heart to dream my way out if it. All I had was the presence of mind to worry about my mum and my siblings.

So when an old classmate from UNIBEN referred me for an editorial position that would pay me twice as much as I was paying myself I took it.

There was no more Daddy. We had just spent a fortune burying him. The money would come in handy.

Did I intend to abandon Gypsy Black forever? No. I didn't have a plan on how I was going to dig it out of the hole, but I knew...I thought I would come back for it.