We all have them, those “blah” gray sort of days.  Days when we don’t feel like doing much of anything, but we have to anyway because our work/children/spouse/project demand that we do.  That’s when I put on my Get Happy playlist because these songs never fail to put me in a fantastic mood.  All of these songs either morph me into a happy, Sunday-afternoon-at-the-park sort of mood or make me want to get up and dance.  I’ve got good music and I’m good to go.

“Love Shack” by B-52s

I secretly think that I am a member of the B-52s; I have the white go-go boots already.  ”Love Shack” is my number one song to put me in a fantastic mood.  It makes me want to dance around and do the pony.   I would kill this song at karaoke!

“Pump” by B-52s

If you think the B-52s greatest hits are old school, think again.  Their latest release is just as rocking as songs of old.  ”Pump” is classic B-52s: addictive guitar riffs and esoteric (or just crazy) lyrics.  Listening to this song makes me wanna swing my hips wildly while shaking a tambourine.

“Back to Love” by The Brand New Heavies

Most of The Brand New Heavies music is funky and groovy–perfect for creating a sunny mood.  But this song has the benefit of uplifting lyrics as well.  It’s a message that everyone needs to remember: “…we seem to lose our way, somehow got lead astray, that’s why I’m here to say, got to get back, get back to love.”

“Groove is in The Heart” by Dee-Lite

Do you see a pattern here?  I like groovy music.  Peace signs, disco balls, go-go boots–give it to me, baby!  This song is a flower-child dance party, with a 90s house beat.  I dare you to listen and stay in your seat.

“Cherish” by Madonna

A bouncy, feel-good beat and sing-aloud lyrics about love keeps this song on my Get Happy playlist.  True, I can’t get the image of Madonna wearing all that lace out of my head, but I don’t hold it against her.  How can I?  I used to dress like her!

“I’m Every Woman” by Chaka-Khan

This song makes me feel like I can conquer the world.  Chaka is belting out those lyrics with the force of nature.  By the end of the song when the music crescendos,  all I need is a cape and a big W on my chest and I’m ready to fly!

“All This Time” by Sting

Soul Cages is one of my favorite albums by Sting; the writing is incredible.  Even though this song is about his father’s death, Sting’s poetic lyrics and great music makes it a up-beat tribute instead of a dirge.   You can feel the maritime intentions in the song–the waves rolling, the sea breeze, the boat rocking.   I love the beach and this song takes me right there.

“Dancing Queen” by ABBA

Yes, I know it’s clichéd, but despite the over-use of this song, it still puts me in a good mood.  With the disco ball twinkling, I can hear the DJ saying, “It’s time for ladies only skate, ladies only.”  In my tube socks and shiny shorts, I can see myself gliding around the roller rink.

“P.Y.T” by Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson showed his talent through many songs, but whenever I play this song I feel his passion and happiness.  And that happiness is then transferred to me.  I don’t try to moon-walk though.

“I Like It Like That” by The Blackout All-Stars

There aren’t that many lyrics to this song, it’s all about the beat.  Latin music is made for dancing; the horns and Congo drums make me want to throw on a twirly skirt, some high heels and do the merengue.

“Haven’t You Heard” by Patrice Rushen

Another song with limited lyrics, “Haven’t You Heard” is all about the music.  Patrice Rushen is an incredible musician and arranger and her blend of jazz, funk and R&B always has me tapping my toes and bopping my head.  This is perfect Sunday afternoon, life-is-good type of music.

“Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince

A musical genius.   I love many a Prince song and different songs put me in different moods.  ”Let’s Go Crazy” is Prince in a zany mood and the song makes me feel zany too.   With lyrics like “let’s look for the purple banana ’til they put us in the truck” how can you not get in a great mood?

“Rebel Yell” by Billy Idol

I love to rock out to this song.  À la Jennifer Beals I want to wear ripped sweatshirts and leg warmers while dancing a scene out of Flashdance.  Or sometimes I play it really loud in my car when I’m frustrated and it never fails to make me calmer and more in control.

“The Biggest Part of Me” by Ambrosia

This is my singing in the shower song, the one that makes me croon into my pretend microphone.  Singing this song I have my audience in the palm of my hand; all eyes are closed and they’re doing the church wave.  This image never fails to put a smile on my face.

“Sunday Morning” by Maroon 5

Smooth, jazzy and groovy, “Sunday Morning” is what I want to hear while taking my dog for a walk.  Sometimes walking my dog can be a chore, but a song like this puts a skip in my step.  My dog thanks you Maroon 5.

“Flashlight” by Parliament

After the 9 second intro, right when the song really begins, I want to jump up, land in a splits, jump up again and do a James Brown spin.  From there I would go into an impressive robot dance, then snake on the floor.  If only.  Instead, I do my own version of a funky dance.

“8th Wonder” by Sugar Hill Gang

The beat is fresh and the rap lyrics memorable.   It’s my ring tone and I have a mini-dance party every time someone calls me.  An interactive party song asking you to sing along, how can you stay in a bad mood reciting lyrics like: “If you’re ready to party and you’re ready to jam, scream it out and say ‘I am (I am) somebody (somebody),’ now you know you are.  You go ah, ah, ah-ah, ooh, ooh.”

“Love of My Life Worldwide” by Erykah Badu (featuring Queen Latifah, Bahamadia & Angie Stone)

I used to love “Funk You Up” by Sequence back in the day and Erykah Badu took a good thing and made it even better.   The addition of Queen Latifah, Bahamadia and original member of Sequence, Angie Stone, adds multiple layers to an already smoking song.  If I could break dance to this song, I would.  Alas, I have to settle for wearing my shell-tops and doing a quick Kid ‘N Play step.

“Woo” by Erykah Badu

Erykah Badu was on fire with the Worldwide Underground album.  This song puts me in happy mood, but more like a mellow, funky, happy mood rather than maniacally happy.  I can’t be bouncing off the wall all the time.  Right here I’m tipping my fedora over one eye, sipping a glass of Prosecco or champagne and bopping my head to the beat.

“Good Life” by Kayne West

It samples one of my other Get Happy songs, Michael’s Jackson’s P.Y.T., and it gets me hyped.  Although Kayne’s version of the good life is not the same as mine, still I throw my hands up in the air and scream, “I’m good.”

I’ve done some gross things in my day.   Being a parent, it comes with the territory.  I’ve cleaned up my share of explosive diarrhea.  One time my son vomited a whole meal’s worth of chili.  From the top of a bunk bed.   It took me 2 days to get chili out of the carpet, off the walls and in the cracks and crevices of the bed.  Fun times.

But nothing–NOTHING–compared to a recent experience that I had with my dog.

I was just getting out of the shower when I heard my husband yelling, “Sherrelle, come quick!”   Thinking something was wrong with one of the kids, I ran downstairs in a towel where I was further summoned outside.  Throwing on a coat and my slippers I go out into the winter morning to see my son standing on the sidewalk holding our puppy, Chili Dawg.  And in his mouth is a dead squirrel.

Let’s stop for a minute and rewind.  Did you notice that my husband called me outside?  To take a dead squirrel out of my dog’s mouth while he watched from the porch?   And this is not the first time that I was asked to handle a dead squirrel.  When my dad removed a dead squirrel from our attic he handed it down to me in a trash bag, because he knows that my husband (who was standing right there) wasn’t going anywhere near it.

I’m not squeamish, but even I have my limits.  A dead squirrel in a trash bag is not the same as one hanging out of my dog’s mouth.  Oh, let me clarify: this wasn’t a dead squirrel (like from the attic); my dog had picked up squirrel road kill on his walk.   It was about 3/4 of a squirrel–minus the head–with blood and guts spilling out.  Yeah.

I actually tried to find photo online to accompany this story and there were many to choose from.  For some disturbing reason people take photos of squirrel road kill.   But I couldn’t bring myself to use a photo…my stomach turned just looking at the Google images.  I don’t believe that I will ever look at a squirrel the same again.

As disgusting as it was–AND IT WAS DISGUSTING–what choice did I have?  My kids couldn’t do it and my husband wasn’t going to do it.  My dog’s health depended upon me removing the squirrel from his mouth.  Which was not going to be easy, I could tell.  He had a death-grip on that squirrel and no amount of cajoling or bribing him with treats was working, so I put on rubber gloves and pried his mouth open.  To do this I was very close to the dead squirrel and the smell and site of squirrel guts was over-whelming.  I dry-heaved several times in the process, but finally pried the squirrel out of Chili Dawg’s mouth and threw it on the ground.   I disposed of most of the squirrel pieces before one final heave told me that I had reached my limit.  My husband (watching from the porch) saw that I could go no further and finished picking up the last bit of squirrel guts from the sidewalk.    I spent the next half hour sitting on the porch washing Chili Dawg’s face and brushing his teeth.

Still naked under my coat.

And that was the most disgusting thing that I’ve ever done.

On the 11th day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

…….a doll that looks like me.  Christmas: a time for showering the little people in our lives with toys and all that their hearts desire.  This can give adults with so much joy, but it can also produce gut-wretching angst when you can’t find a doll for your little brown girl that looks like her.

*Most of my posts for this series of The 12 Days of Christmas have been fun and light-hearted, but I have been meaning to talk about this subject for awhile and it is something that many people struggle with this time of the year.  Roll with it, think about it and please add your two cents in the comments.

A couple of months ago–well before the holiday season–emails were flying on the Mocha Moms listserv about Addy, an American Girl doll.   If you don’t know about American Girl dolls, let me school you as I just entered this world last year when my daughter asked for an American Girl doll for Christmas.  American Girl historical dolls are based on historical fictional book characters; each doll comes with a set of books that highlights a particular segment of American history.  So I had to check out all the dolls and surprise, surprise  there is only one African American historical doll, Addy.

And Addy is a slave.

Of course.

This is what the Mocha Moms were emailing about: why does Addy have to be a slave?  Is that the ONLY part of African American history worth telling?  Oh, and when they saw Addy’s doll, Ida Bean (although I’m sure she’s historically accurate), Lord, the emails were flying fast and furious.

To be fair, Addy is escaping slavery and her story is a courageous and compelling one; all the American Girl stories show how the characters display bravery and tenacity often in the face of the most trying times in American History.  So, they are good books and the principles of the American Girl company are sound.  Let me be clear: I like the American Girl company and support their mission and products both philosophical and financially.  They also make modern-day “Just Like You” dolls that come in several shades of brown with various hair textures, so the lack of brown dolls in general is not in question; the rift is with the historical dolls.

So again we (“we” being me, my Mocha Moms chapter and I’m certain many African American mothers everywhere) ask: is slavery the only story that we have to tell about the African diaspora in America?  It’s not that slavery isn’t a story worth telling, it’s the fact that we are limited to just one story.  There is so much more.

What about the Harlem Renaissance?  Besides great stories about the art, music and literature of that time period, that doll would have some fly clothes for sure.  And what about the ’60s or ’70s?  There is a doll now, Julie, who is sort of a hippy girl living in Berkley California; couldn’t they at least make an African American friend for Julie who wears a dashiki?   That’s what I’m talking about!

I was not opposed to the Addy doll, but my daughter was not interested in her.  So here was the dilemma: do I let her ask Santa for a white doll?  Well, that’s always the question for African American parents whether it’s American Girl, Barbie or Disney Princesses dolls; are we going to let our daughters play with dolls that don’t look like them?

Of the people I know, for most the answer is a resounding NO.  I too feel that way, but my daughter does have many of the Disney Princesses, who up until Princess Tiana (bless her!), were mostly white (Jasmine is Arabian and Mulan is Asian).  I justified buying those dolls because they were “real people.”  Her Cheetah Girls dolls are Latina, African American, mixed race and white, so they’re okay.  And I think she also has a couple of random white Barbies; I don’t know how they got in there.  So, while my daughter doesn’t exclusively own dolls of color,  that is my strong preference.

She just got the new So In Style Barbies, which I love and think were long over-due, but whew!–those dolls have been controversial and they just hit the market.   The articles in Jezebel.com,  Essence.com, and The Wall Street Journal.com show what a hot topic this is for the African American community;  liking the Barbies or not is the main thread, but that we care immensely about the images that are reflective of our daughters.

Why?  Why do I prefer for my daughter to play with dolls of color?  After all, she has a mixed race background so it shouldn’t matter, right?  Wrong.  No matter what her background, she is a brown girl and everything in the world is telling her that she is marginal.  Including the toy industry.  It is up to my husband and me to tell her that she is beautiful and worthy; one of the many ways we can do that is by providing her with playthings that reflect her image and consequently boost her self-esteem.

Back to the American Girl doll dilemma last Christmas: what doll did Santa bring?  After admittedly a few strong suggestions from me, she asked for and got Josefina, a hispanic doll.   A compromise: not African American, but still of color.  I could get with that.   Both she and I love the Josefina doll; she has a rich culture which makes for good stories and beautiful clothes.

This Christmas she asked for another American Girl doll and again I subtly steered her towards dolls of color, either Kaya, a Native American Indian or Sonali, a modern-day doll who is the friend of a white doll, Chrissa.  I’m not sure of Sonali’s heritage, but she’s brown-skinned.  I’ll take it.

It is true that the toy industry has come a long way from when I was little when dolls of color were few and came in one very dark shade of brown, but they still have a long way to go.  As evidenced by the throngs of African American parents I see in the American Girl Store and the Princess Tiana dolls flying off the shelves, we are responding to the increase in diversity.  We have money and will spend it if given the chance.   Just give us the chance.

*****************

The 12 Days of Christmas by Funkidivagirl

On the 1st day of Christmas my true love gave to me….the words to the song.

On the 2nd day of Christmas my true love gave to me….Christmas cards.

On the 3rd day of Christmas my true love gave to me….Chili Dawg.

On the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me…..a Christmas vacation.

On the 5th day of Christmas my true love gave to me…..Santa Claus.

I just got back from Blogalicious 2009.  This was my first blogging conference so I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I was very impressed by the conference as a whole; the venue was beautiful, the food was fantastic, the sponsors were generous, the swag bags were overflowing, the parties were jamming and the lovely hosts from MamaLaw were gracious and efficient.  The information that I obtained was varied and rich and the women bloggers that I met were interesting and smart.  The keynote speeches from James Andrews (my husband) and Karen Walrond were inspirational, while sessions like Taking Your Blog to the Next Level and Secrets to a Successful Blog provided good answers, but I left the conference also asking myself more questions.  Questions like: Am I blogging with purpose?  Am I passionate?  Am I even doing this right?  And mostly…Why do I blog?

I asked and I answered:

I blog to give information in categories like Techknow Mama, Things I like and Ma-Gyver.

I blog to entertain in Kickin’ It Old School and through many of the silly travel family videos that I post in T as in Tango.

I blog to build a community through posts about myself and my family in What About Me, My Charmed Life or Word From the Mother.  I hope that the more you know about me, the more you will share about yourself; that creates community.

I blog Deep Stuff to foster discussion and conversation.  I’m a thinker and I know you are too.

I blog to save the world from mediocrity.  We’ve got to keep the bar high people.  We’re all fabulous; let’s live it!

Through it all, I blog to tell stories.  As Scott Rosenberg says in his book, Say Everything: How Blogging Began, What It’s Becoming, And Why It Matters, “A [blog] post is a shared memory….And in the end, that’s what we want and need to remember about our lives, and the lives of others: not factual details but meaningful stories.”  Whether I am writing about Disney World, my marriage, Henry Louis Gates or the best cupcakes, I aim to do it with passion, transparency and authenticity in a way that hopefully makes you remember your own stories.

I blog because I have a voice and I have something to say.  And that is reason enough.

There was a man in my neighborhood who walked his pug everyday down my street, past my window.  Twice a day, at the same times, without fail, rain or shine, warm weather or cold.  This man had to be at least 80 years old and the pug looked as old as the man.  Both gray-haired and stout, they walked at the same pace, shuffling slowly along, the old man using a cane.  The kids and I used to call each other to the window whenever they walked by, “Hey, come look; it’s the Old Man and The Pug!”   We were in awe of the old man’s obvious affection for his dog and determination to exercise him each day, despite the physical exertion.  We decided that they were best friends.

When we got Chili Dawg this past spring we felt a greater kinship with the old man and his pug and looked for them on the street.   After actively looking for a few days it dawned on us that in fact we hadn’t seen them for a long time.   In the chaos that comes with getting a new puppy, we hadn’t noticed their absence.   Perhaps they had learned a new walking route, but we didn’t think so; we feared that something had happened to one or both of them.    Upon talking to neighbors, we learned that yes, it was true; the pug had died and the old man is now in a nursing home, alive in body but mentally incapacitated.   I do not know for sure, but perhaps there is a connection between the passing of his best friend and the old man’s willingness to stay lucid and actively engaged in the world.   Perhaps those daily walks gave him a reason to keep going, to get up and to get out.

I did not know the old man or his pug; I never had 2 words with them.  But I miss them walking by my window, a daily reminder of the importance of fresh air and a good walk with a friend.