Ice Cream Dreams

About 10 years ago during my flight attendant days, I was in Darmstadt, Germany having the time of my life with some closest friends; Lady Albert & Black Vette. The whole summer of 98 we flew all over Europe together but we spent the most of our time fucking around Germany eating nasty ass food. The food was so nasty that Black Vette & I ate mostly snacks to survive.

One night hunger filled night, Black Vette & I decided to head to the local Toom market to stock up on Pringles, cookies, bananas & Fanta pop. During this trip, I walked down the frozen foods isle & spotted a strawberry/chocolate Vienetta. I had never seen’t this flavor & had to have it; so I picked it up.

When we got back to the hotel, I put the Vienetta in the small, no, very small freezer. Later that night, Black Vette, Lady Albert & I hit the streets to party for the night.

Side note: Lady Albert, Black Vette & I referred to ourselves as the biggest, blackest & baddest flight attendants to hit the friendly skies.

We got back to the hotel around 8am, which was just in time to enjoy a champagne brunch at the hotel. As you can guess, we hit the sack hard after a night of partying & drankin’ cheap champagne at a German brunch.

Later on in the day we woke up, regrouped & of course were hungry. We pooled our foods & I offered up the strawberry chocolate Vienetta.

So I go to the little fridge to grab the ice cream snack. When I pulled it out, the bad was limp as hell because the shit melted. Well it was not totally melted because it was still cold but it was so not in the state that it should have been in.

When I presented it to my friends, they laughed & Black Vette was like fuck it, let’s drink that shit. Before I knew it Lady Albert had the cups out & I was pouring us each a glass of Viennetta. The shit was so very ghetto but we set it off.

Later on that week, when I got back home & told Suite Suzy about our ghetto meal & we had a great laugh about it.

Tonight out of nowhere, I thought about eating a Vientta, and then I thought about the Vienetta drink I enjoyed with friends many years ago.

Suite Suzy was upstairs in the kitchen & I shouted up to her to find out if you could still get Vienetta at the store. She was like what, a Vienetta they don’t make them anymore more boo. Since she was on her laptop at the time, I had her look it up & it seems that Breyer’s stopped making them sometime ago.

The funny thing we found was that many people (per Google) are looking for a Vienetta to date & I even found a few cheesy Viennetta commercials like below on Youtube (they have everything).

After surfing about it a bit, Suite Suzy actually emailed Breyer’s & asked where she could pick up a Vienetta. It will be interesting to see how they respond.

After all of the laughs & the remembering were over, I fixed myself a bowl of Edy’s cookies & cream ice cream, headed back down to my office & called Black Vette to have a laugh.

I was hoping that she would answer but she did not. I guess she’s somewhere in Europe or the Middle East on a layover.

The Perfect Slice of Summer Rememory

I love the smell of watermelon because it smells so fresh, and because it is a symbol of summer, but I do not eat it.

I stopped eating watermelon when I was a teen & I cannot remember why to save my life.  Interestingly enough, I love most types of watermelon flavored candies, especially Jolly Ranchers & Now & Laters & can fuck those up till the break of dawn!!!

When I was cutting this melon Saturday, the smell of it made me hungry for a piece & I gave in secretly.  The flesh was sweet, cool & thoughts of spitting out seeds took me back to my youth when I would eat watermelon at night on the porch with my brother “Topot”.

Memories of having seed spitting contests also ran across my mind along with memories of my mother telling us that if we swallowed the seeds, a watermelon would grow in our bellies and those Sunday stops after church with Big Mama to see the watermelon man.

After I enjoyed the sweetness of this one perfect slice & the accompanying memories, I said yuck, I cannot believe I am eating this!

My friends & family always tease me about not eating watermelon & ask what kind of Black man don’t eat him no watermelon. 

It’s a good question, but I don’t have a good answer.

Another Man Done Gone

After shooting today’s macro florals my, iPhone went off indicating I had a text message.

Once I put my gear up, I checked the message to get the sad news of Isaac Hayes’ death this afternoon.

I was taken aback & thought about how my aunt Val introduced me to his music many, many years ago & how we listened to it in her bedroom @ my grandmothers. I also thought about how my mom loves “Hot Buttered Soul” to death, then I smiled when I remembered the “warm salty nuts” “Chef/South Park” t-shirt that Suite Suzy gifted me once.

So today I dedicate my photos to the memory of Issac (see more here).

On a similar note: I called one of my friends tonight & broke the news to her. During the conversation we both noted that death happens in threes & we both wondered who would be next. I said no matter what I hoped that it was not me. She then laughed & said nigga, I doubt that it will be a photographer, your just not big enough!!! I died with laughter (tacky pun not intended!).

On a unrelated note: With the Beijing shanking, the death of Bernie Mac, the war in Georgia, Kwame Kilpatrick facing yet another new (as of Friday night after his jail release) bond violation, John Edward’s pussy escapades & finally Isaac Hayes’ death, I wondered what the fuck else was going to jump off.  Well I got a call around 7pm from Cousin Dee’s Boo, the Yellow African.  He said, I have news, I was like I already know.  He was like, nigga no you don’t & I was like of shit, what is it???  He was like I proposed to your cousin & to that I said about damn time!

They are on their way over now for one of Suite Suzy’s fresh back pound cakes & champagne.  Hopefully this news broke the cycle of the drama that seems to be non-stop this weekend.

Road Trip Synopsis

My little road trip to Toronto this past weekend can be summed up in one word; RELAXING.

As I mentioned below, the trip was drama free & even agenda free. We planned on doing some things revolving around Caribana but nothing more.

During the trip, we took several slow relaxing walks around the city, slept in every day, ate wonderful meals & reconnected as one.

I wanted to really get out & do some shooting but I really did not feel like it so I just pulled the camera out every now & then. The only time I really got out my baby was at the Caribana parade, which was pretty fun.

The one thing that Suite Suzy & I left Toronto with was a longing to vacation in the Caribbean for our next one on one vacation. We tossed up Trinidad/Tobago, Cuba, St Marteen, or somewhere in Jamaica. Wherever we go, I just look forward to lying on my ass, drinking rum & watching beautiful sunsets with my boo.

If you are interested in seeing my shots from vacay, click here

Of Earth & Sky

One Image, Two seperate exposures, Three Short Stories

~White Pillows, Green Bed: My lush lawn is soft when I lay for weekend afternoon naps but the clouds always look softer.

~If Only: I took my 1st airplane ride back in 1978 when I was four years old. We were moving from Birmingham, AL to Detroit, MI. My little brother & I had a bottle with us & we thought we would use it to catch clouds as we flew.

Well as you can guess, we never got the window open.

We really had imaginations.

~Fresh Cut: I love my lawn but hate cutting it so I don't. It is all about having a lawn service!

Stronger as the Days Pass

My post title is dedicated to the man that taught me who to appreciate many forms of music and it is inspired by Earth Wind & Fire’s song "Keep You Head to the Sky” from their "Head to the Sky" album 1973.

“Master told me one day
I’d find peace in every way
But in search for the clue
Wrong things I was bound to do

Keep my head to the sky
For the clouds to tell me why
As I grew, and with strength
Master kept me as I repent
And he said 

Keep your head to the sky
Keep your head to the sky”

Seven years ago today, Suit Suite and I were walking around downtown Toronto celebration our wedding anniversary, like we do most years. As we walking, Toronto was busy with activities that were in preparation for the 2008 Summer Olympic Host City announcement that was to be made later that day.

Around six that same evening the Chinese citizens of the city took over the streets with boisterous excitement because Beijing was announced as the winner of the 2008 summer Olympics. I was disappointed and so were many others but hey, at least we got a fun parade out of it, along with 2008 Toronto gear that is not worth the shit of a fly. Anyway, the day was a good day. Suite Suzy and I also took in the "Lion King "stage play and had a fabulous Thai dinner.

As the night started to wind down, we headed back to the hotel to…

It’s now 3am and the hotel phone is ringing. Like most times when the phone rings that late, I always say, somebody better be dead or in jail calling this late and I'm out of town. I picked up the phone and said helleeer and my mom in a hurried voice says Brian (remember it was 7 years ago), your dad is dead. I say excuse me, did you say dead. She said yes that nigga is dead, and you need to get home.

I dropped the phone and screamed and Suite Suzy tried to figure out was going on.

As hours passed, I tried to get my mind right as Suite Suzy comforted me until the morning. We talked about all the what ifs, what about and why. I pretty much felt like a crying zombie that whole day, it was very rough and to make matter worse the his death underscored my wedding anniversary.

After my dad, RL Howard died my world was forever changed in good and bad ways and I deal with them as best as I can but the process seems never ending.

I told myself this morning not to have a tearful day and to think about his smile, conversations we had and how much I used to hate seeing him get food stuck in his mustache, especially grits.

After I got home today from an anniversary overnight jump off with my boo, I came home fixed a few cocktails (images and recipe coming soon!) I went and laid in the grass to enjoy the summer breeze and the passing clouds. As I laid in this solitary downtime, I felt peace, no sorrow, no hurt no pain. I think I am getting stronger.

Big Mama & Her Green Beans

Whenever I prepare fresh green beans, I always think about my grandmother Mary Howard aKa Big Mama.

When I was about 11 I started calling her Big Mama & she always laughed when I did.  I don’t know where I got it from back then but it seemed appropriate because her love was big, her food was big, her hugs were big & her smile was big.

After I purchased these beans today, I had every intention to pick them on the porch like Big Mama used to but I did not because the rain kept me inside but that did not deter my “rememory” of Big Mama & the way she picked her beans with a big smile while humming deeply sweet nothings that only she knew.

On another note, if Big Mama  were alive today, I would not be eating her green beans.  Back then, I like the boiled to death beans steeped in salt pork with the potato chunks bobbing up & down in the boiling water.  Today, I must have them sautéed, steamed or poached & lightly seasoned.

NYC Nigga Tales

Niggas on Broadway:  Thursday about 7pm, I was walking down Broadway headed toward Times Square to meet Suite Suzy for dinner @ Victor’s Cuban Café.  It was a long hike because I was walking from 17th & needed to get to 52nd; damn my ‘feets’ were hurting!  I know I could have taken the subway, but I really like walking to see whatever I can see.

When I made it to Broadway & 29th, I spotted a rack of sequin covered Converse All Stars & decided to pull out my camera because they looked pretty cool.  I popped on my 50mm lens & started taking shots; then out of nowhere this guy asked me if I was taking pictures of the shoes or the “niggas”.  I was thrown off by the question.  He then asked me again in a more aggressive tone.  Are you taking “pictures of shoes or niggas”.  I replied, what are you talking about, what “niggas”?  Next thing I know, like 8 “niggas” popped out of nowhere (yes, magically appearing niggas).  They were all thugged out, most with fucked up teeth & I was like hmmmmmm.

At this point, I was like the shoes as I started to walk away.  Then he and a few other “niggas” were like, we out here doing some shit, ain’t no pictures allowed.  And lastly, the head “nigga” took one of the shoes & threw it on the ground & was like came back a take a picture BITCH, if you want a picture of this bitch ass shoe, come take one now.  Since I am usually not in the mood to get into a street jump off with a bunch of  “niggas”, I declined his offer & kept stepping.

As I continued to walk, I did notice quite a few “niggas” out & about on Broadway between 29th & 30th looking like they were slangin’.

A few things I learned were,  a) niggas, can appear from nowhere, b) niggas do not care if you are an artist c) my camera bag can be used to swing on cars but not sure how it would work on “niggas” on Broadway  d) I need to be more aware of my surroundings.

Niggas Need Cabs Too:  Wednesday night after wonderful conversation & dinner at Negril Village with bloggers Cluizel, Jose Vilson, & Renea, Suite Suzy & I decided to take a taxi back to the hotel because we were both tired (and that last pomegranate rum punch me over the edge).

The decision to catch a cab was pretty easy but actually getting one was a little difficult.  I cannot tell you how many cabs whizzed by with no passengers that would not stop for us.  After 10 minutes of flagging cabs down, we finally got picked up.  We got in the cab, me with an attitude, said, thanks for picking up a couple of Negroes.

Once we were off, I expressed my frustration with CWB (Cabbing While Black).  The driver was a Negro himself, Ghanian in fact, so we had an open discussion.

He shared a few stories with us that illustrated his frustration on having to deny “his people” rides.  He told us how Blacks [some] would get in for a ride, then jump out @ the destination without paying.  He also told us how people would get in, get to their destination then claim to have little or no many.  He even described an incident when a Black woman tried to jack him up physically & monetarily.  Lastly, he stated that he was just really sick of niggas who just want something for nothing & act like you owe them a ride on GP.

The conversation was really interesting & showed me the opposite side of the coin, which gave me a little more understanding of the problem in NYC.

Once Suite Suzy & I were back in the room, we continued the conversation & she felt the reasons given by the cab driver were enough to justify the denial of rides to Black potential passengers.  I on the other hand, felt what he was saying, but the simple fact of the matter to me was not every Negro is going to jump out.

My thing is, if you want to deny rides based on a possible jumper, then you need not drive a cab because shit can/will happen on any job.   I’m Black, have money for your service, so break me off with that ride & don’t speculate on what I might & might not do, just do your job.

After my incident on Broadway, I thought back to the conversation with cab driver & said, these must be the “niggas” that he was talking about.

The Art of Composition

My post title is inspired partly by the composition of this photo & partly by Anita Baker’s song "Love You to the Letter” from her "Compositions" album 1990.

“Life is always changing
Constant rearranging
But nothing changes with you
You never do

I go to different places
See a million faces, but
None as fine as you

Baby I have the honor
To love someone kind and true
I thank my lucky stars
For bringing me here to you

Like water flows down from a hill
And yellow grows on daffodils
I'm gonna learn to love you better
To the letter, baby

Like morning dew on southern pines
And honey that bees leave behind
I'm gonna love you sweet to the letter
You'll find no better"

Because of Anita Baker, I love daffodils! When I see them, I remember riding the bus on Sunday mornings to work when I was a teenager listening to her "Compositions" album.

Actually the entire album takes me back to a very happy year in my life & strongly brings out memories of driving around in my mom’s Renault Medallion with my brother & sister. My momma would blast the music & we all sang along. We all knew we could not sing but it was so fun. The overall car favorite to sing was "Fairy Tales"