Funny Car Stories

 For some reason, when I think back on some of the funniest happenings in our family, they have to do with cars. I will share some of them now.

The time Chubby dropped a bomb on us, baby. Dropped a bomb on us!

I've mentioned that our family has traveled the Alaskan-Canada (AlCan) Highway a lot. Well, one of those times was when my older brother, Chubby flew from Alaska to Arizona to drive my mom, sister, and some of the kids back up to Anchorage. They'd be coming back in a newly leased Honda Accord that the ladies weren't used to yet. (You'll understand later why we had a hard time getting used to new cars.)

Where it could take my sister and me a week or more to get just from Anchorage to Seattle, Chubby could get from Arizona to Anchorage in the same amount of time.  And I guess he was making good time, as usual, but he did need to stop for naps.

On one of these naps, he just pulled over into the breakdown lane, ate some of the packed sandwiches and things from the cooler, and ratcheted back in the seat to snooze for a bit. My mom in the front passenger seat and my sister in the seat behind mom's also dozed off. Until they were awakened by something awful and mysterious that was (as my sister later put it) coating the inside of her nose and gagging her awake.

It only took a couple of seconds before both women realized that they were not under attack by military-grade stink bombs. The stink was coming from Chubby as he happily continued snoozing.

My sister said that she hadn't seen our mom move so fast in years. Once she had snatched off her shoe and boomeranged it against one of the kids' heads when they let slip a cuss word. Mr. Murphy knows what I'm talking about...

(Excusing the language, that is one of the funniest and most relatable - for me - bits of comedy.)

Apparently, both women looked like keystone cops trying to get their car doors open. But the doors were locked. They looked for the manual locks and couldn't find them.  When they did find the locks, the doors wouldn't open. 

My sister swears that, if anyone had driven past the car at that point, they'd have sworn there were kidnapped women trying to escape.

As if the first stink bomb wasn't bad enough, Chubby let loose another one - a silent one that my sister claims she could see. It reminded her of the twisting smoky green clouds used in cartoons to indicate reeking garbage.

That did it for mom. She reached over and started swatting Chubby upside the head and yelling for him to "Open the damn doors before we die in here!"

Chubby came awake, ducking mom's hand, and realized what was happening. He quickly released the master lock from the driver's side door and laughed himself to tears watching mom and my sister practically fall out of the car.

The car had to be left open to air out before Mom would even go near it again. I bet they didn't feed Chub any more bologna sandwiches.

The car and the fishing rod

Okay, this one is hard to explain because I can't remember now how the fishing rod worked. But...

We never had new cars back in the day. Our used cars weren't usually too bad but we had a couple of rough ones. One of them - I think it was a Dodge something or a Gremlin that played lead in another of my stories - would only start if we used a kid or a fishing rod. Let me explain that.

If one of the kids was around, we would open the hood and get into the driver's seat, ready to turn the ignition on the count of three. We had to time the ignition turning with the pushing down of something under the hood. (I wish I could remember the details.)

We had to keep a fishing rod in the backseat because we didn't always have a kid or someone else with us. It took coordination and a spectacular lack of public shame to hook the line on the fishing rod to whatever that part was under the hood while we got in the driver's seat and started the car.

I was young and extremely vain. There were times I would put off going somewhere because I just couldn't deal with the public humiliation of starting that car. And I wanted to be mad about it. But my mom reminded me that we were three single women who owned a nice home and were able to feed and clothe our kids with no help. And if that didn't buck me up, Mom would throw in one of her favorite sayings about a "Po' ride beating a proud walk any day." Yeah.

When all you can do is laugh

That Dodge-or-Gremlin from the last story comes up often when we family members tell funny stories. This one happened to me and my sister one day when we were having a girls' day out.

A "girls' day out" for us back then was to hit the mall, maybe buy some shoes or a purse, or something for our hair. We'd sit somewhere to people-watch while my sister cracked on passersby, keeping a perfectly straight face while I would be in danger of getting my butt kicked by some of those passersby. She was never mean about it - well, not super mean. She'd maybe see some really crazy-looking guy walk by and tell me to "go get my man before I lost him". That kind of silly thing. All the humor was in her delivery.

After we finished hanging out, we might grab something to eat. Then we'd go home. On this one day, we had gone to a salon that belonged to a really close girlfriend. She had done up our hair really cute. We looked too good to go straight home, so we did the mall thing and then started home.

Now, remember, I was really, really vain back in the day. I thought I was just too cute and I know that my sister was really pretty. So I am driving that thing we called a car - got it started and everything... On the way home, I was stopped at a light when another car pulled up alongside us. A car full of some young handsome guys. Too young for us, but still really handsome. And they were hurting themselves looking over and flirting with us. Made us feel good but we did the whole "not paying attention to these silly little boys over here" and ignored them.

The light changed and the thing we called a car, did something new. It sort of hitched, as if it was going to die and it didn't move forward. Puzzled, I pushed down a little more on the accelerator and 

BANG!!!

I was sure that someone had hit us with a missile. Not only was that bang deafening, but there was this absolutely humongous cloud of black smoke that had burst from the tailpipe and obscured everything behind us. Cars behind us started moving quickly into other lanes. 

But the car was at least moving. Slowly. We went about five feet before the car got over its hissy fit and drove normally. 

In the meantime...

The cute young guys paced alongside us for the next couple of blocks before they turned in a different direction. I'm surprised they didn't run into something. They were laughing so hard that one of them just slumped against the window and slapped the front seat in amused agitation. 

I was so embarrassed. But my sister found it really funny. She ended up laughing harder than those silly boys. 

Then when we did get a nice car...

I can't remember what year it was that we got my favorite car ever. One of my older brothers found it for us - another lease - and I was in love from the first time I saw it. It wasn't brand new but it didn't need any special talents to start it up or to drive it. It was a smoky black 1992 Honda Accord with a sunroof and a great stereo system. It is still my favorite model of car. 

My brothers had just had it with our used junkers. They lived in places like Seattle, California, and Arizona while we lived in Alaska. They worried about us driving around with the kids in raggedy automobiles in a place that had snow and ice-coated roads for much of the year. So we accepted the help and got that Honda.

It was a good time for us to have a more reliable car. I worked at a hub near the airport and I was going to work the night shift for a while. The boys felt better that I'd be making the drive out to the airport in a car that was safe and very reliable. I mostly liked being able to play the stereo and use the wipers at the same time with no issues. And, don't forget, I thought was SO cute.

So on one winter evening, I am on my way to work. It's around 7pm and it's pitch black. In the winter, "pitch-black" started at about 4 in the afternoon. Because, you know, Alaska. 

Another thing that was great about the Honda was that it sat low and got great traction on slick roads. That's important. 

I was at the final stoplight on the roadway before starting the last stretch to the airport. I have maybe 3 miles to go when I stop at this last light. I'm sitting there, just grooving along to - I don't know, probably Earth, Wind, and Fire or something "old school cool". There has not been a lot of traffic and I think I'd only seen three or four cars on my way to this last light. All of them had exited off except for one. I see it come up behind me and then move to the other lane and stop on my driver's side.

I say that I "see" all of this but I really wasn't paying a lot of attention. I was listening to music and already thinking about work stuff. Because I work in an airport-type setting - a lot of offices connected to a big hangar - and because I'm on the night shift, I am dressed casually in jeans and a company shirt. I have my hair slicked back in a little bun and I have a baseball cap on. 

As I am sitting at this light with no other traffic but that one car next to me, I get that feeling of being stared at. I kind of casually turn my head to look at the other car and my heart just about thuds right out of my chest. The driver - who I can tell is a big guy and probably really tall - was looking at me and when I turned my head, he raised his finger and motioned firing a gun at me.

What???

I turn back to look at the light and am even thinking of running it when it goes green. I hit the gas and stood that Honda up all the way to work. And it didn't skid, slide, or act any kind of a fool. I didn't even look to see if I was being followed. 

One of the benefits of working at the airport is that there is always security. And this was post-9/11 so airports had security like crazy. We damn near had snipers on the roof.

I didn't even go to a parking space. I pulled up in front of the entrance where the security guards could see me. And then I couldn't move. My legs were just shaking and I knew I wouldn't be able to stand. One of the guards came out to check on me and ended up parking my car while another guard helped me inside. 

I was shook. Literally.

Anyway, I have a lot of brothers - play and real - who asked around town about the guy and car I described. Turns out that there was a drug dealer, badass in town who was mad at someone who drove a smoky black 1992 Honda Accord with a sunroof. One of my guys saw the other Accord and said that the only difference was that mine still had its California plates. 

I went out and got some kind of big, bright-colored radio station sticker for the back window and bought some things to hang from the mirror. Anything to make our car look more distinctive. 

Yeah.

But we weren't walking

Looking back now, I can laugh. Matter of fact, some of our best times as a family is spent laughing about the horrible cars we drove. And I only told about some of them. I didn't mention what I drove for a few months while waiting for my family to follow me from Arizona back to Alaska. It was some Toyota (I think) or something that I bought for a couple hundred dollars. I only needed something to get around in before the family arrived with our newer car. This temporary ride was laughable. There were no keys to it. They weren't needed. I had to use a paperclip and a bobby pin to turn the ignition. Right after I got it, it started conking out on me at stoplights. One of my brothers had a friend who owned a gas station and he told me to bring it by for him to check it out. When I did, it took him and his crew a minute to stop laughing. He wanted to give me one of his cars to use. But my mom raised me to be tougher than that. I just asked if he could do something so it wouldn't shut off at lights. He did something alright. The car didn't shut off at lights anymore because it constantly revved high. Oh well. I got my money's worth before I finally gave it to someone else who needed a car.

Another junker we had would frost up on the inside. We had to use a scraper to clear the frost from the inside windshield every now and then. Yet another beauty had a bungee cord holding the passenger door closed. It was fun to get in and out of. 

We had an old Audi once that stopped on me halfway to work. I spent half an hour on the side of the road while some helpful passerby tried to find the battery to give me a jump. We didn't find out for another half hour that the battery was located under the back seat.

I didn't know how to act once we got that Honda. It was almost too boring. The next car we got was an even newer Accord. Then we got the Ford Explorer. New. 

But I never forgot my mom's saying about poor rides and proud walks. I have since ridden in Hummers, concept cars, limos, sports cars... They all do the same thing: get you from one point to another. I'm blessed that I was never without a vehicle back then. I'm just plain blessed.

Peace

--Free

**REVIEW** The Ninja CE251 (detailed review)

The first part of this is a quick overview.  Following that is a very detailed review. You can skim through and stop at the highlighted points that interest you.

**there are never affiliate links in my reviews**

Because of my botched review of the electric percolator both here and on Amazon, I want to be very, very careful from here on out and especially with this one. I have waited a while to write this so that I've had a chance to use the machine more than a few times. I've been adding to the review over the weeks I've been using the Ninja. (NOTE: I started using the machine on 8/6 and I am finishing this review on 8/27. If there are any errors, I will have to catch them later. I'm too tired of writing this to read it anymore...)

I’m going to cover some concerns mentioned in other reviews and what I experienced. I will try to add some tips I have picked up online. I really need this review to be spot on.  (That whole percolator debacle has well and truly traumatized me.)

First, I will do an overview of the pros and cons for people in a hurry. For lots more detail, see the rest of the review.

Overview of the Ninja CE251

Pros:

• Has an Auto Shut-Off feature. This was my biggest disappointment with the percolator.
• The machine is not very noisy when brewing.
• Dumping used grounds is not messy at all if using a paper filter.
• Delivers consistently great-tasting coffee (I've been using mine for about a month at this point).
• Has function for programming delayed brewing (to wake up to coffee), and
• Has a "Small Batch" function to give a good flavor for smaller brew amounts. 
• Choice of 2 brew types: "Classic" or "Rich". (I use this to punch up weaker coffee types).
• The delay programming feature does not have to be reset every time if you use the same wake-up time every day. (Mine stays set at 6:30.)
• Easy to use and clean (once you get the hang of it).
• Reaches the suggested temperatures for brewing (195-205F). I registered temp of 199-208F.
• The "showerhead" drip design evenly soaks the grinds.
• The machine has a slight pause at the start of brewing for "blooming" the coffee. (I just learned about the concept of "blooming".)
• The removable (and less messy to fill) water reservoir.
• The carafe is not as fragile as expected & does not drip/leak/spill when pouring coffee.
• There is a Brew Stopper so you can cheat & grab some coffee while it's still brewing.
• Unlike with the Keurig, I can save money by using both whole bean and ground coffee.
• The Ninja is a nice-looking machine.
• The biggest positive is that the Ninja is (so far) a great machine for the price. I think it is worth what I paid.

Cons:

• The Power, Brew, and Clean buttons were really hard to press until I had used them a couple of times. The Power button is still really hard to depress (even after a month of daily use). I have to hold the machine to keep from scooting it back when I press the Power button.
• The "blooming" pause is really short. I think it only lasts about 4 or 5 seconds. I have read that up to 40 seconds is ideal. ~shrug~
• Dumping used grounds from the reusable filter is messy and hard to do.
• The Delay programming can be confusing at first. (But easy once you get the hang of it.)
• The glass carafe does, of course, "cook" the coffee after a while. The less coffee in the pot, the faster it degrades.
• The carafe has to be tipped and rocked to fully empty it of liquid.
• The lid of the brew basket opens upward. Because of this and steaming issues, it's not good to place the machine underneath low cabinets. (Also, you need easy access to the removable water reservoir.)
• The water reservoir is only good for the coffee you are making & has to be filled each time with whatever water you need.
• The "beep" alert for the end of a cycle is extremely hard to hear. I have been standing 5 feet away and barely noticed it.
• The Ninja in this model only comes in the black & steel design.
• There is no option for a thermal carafe. You can't even buy one for the Ninja because of the design of the drip mechanism.
• Many reviews state that it is hard to find a replacement carafe if you break one.

All in all, I think that the pros outweigh the cons a lot. Because I have seen reviews reporting problems in the 2nd year of use, I did buy the extended warranty for an extra 9 dollars.

Would I recommend this coffeemaker to friends and family? I already have. I got mine based mostly on the recommendation of a niece.

This is a quick video I did so you can see how it runs (during a cleaning cycle) and what it sounds like.

Now, if you want all the deep-dish skinny, continue on...

Okay. If you really mean it...

Packaging, size, weight & look 

• It comes in a box that tells what is inside. Ask for it to be sent in plain packaging if it's intended as a gift or you don't want nosy neighbors (or porch thieves) to know your business.
• The box contains a full Model Number that you can photograph for your records. I suggest keeping all the boxing/packaging for at least 6 months - just in case you need to do a return.
• The Ninja size dimensions are close to that of the Keurig K-Classic. However, the Keurig is heavier (because of its water reserve) and more rounded. I find the Ninja is easier to love and reposition.
• This model of the Ninja looks more streamlined. It comes only in a black and stainless steel design with a glass carafe. It looks stylish and I think the look will "age" well. My Keurig was red (to match my kitchen) but was mostly plastic. The plastic did wear over time with cleaning and use. The Keurig was cute but has a cheaper look than the Ninja.

Calling all porch thieves!!!

Countertop space & placement issues

This works best for me

• Because the brew basket on the Ninja opens upward, it might not fit under your cabinets. Even if it does fit, the steam might damage the cabinets over time.
• The water reservoir is on the right side. It's best to place the Ninja for easy removal or filling of the reservoir. More on this in a moment.
• The cord is long enough for my needs. However, there is a warning not to use it with extension cords so know that.
• I didn't find the cord length in the manual. In answer to a customer question on Amazon from 2018, SharkNinja gave the cord length as being 26 inches. In answer to a question elsewhere (search the question box), another person said the cord is 28 inches. I question both answers. My cord is decently long - maybe 26 inches long, but...  if you need to position the cord around or over things on a counter, it's not going to look that long.

Ninja CE251 compared to the Keurig K-Classic

• The Keurig is fast but the Ninja produces better flavor. Also, the Ninja is not super slow (see more later)
• I can use both whole bean and ground coffee with the Ninja.
• I like being able to make more or less coffee in one brewing. The Keurig was limited to servings of 6-10 ounces. 
• The Keurig pods came in a variety of flavors but were costly. More affordable pods lacked quality.
• Some pods could be defective and unusable. This didn't happen often and usually only happened with budget pods.
• I can better control the strength and quality of brew (even with "bad" coffee) with the Ninja and some other drip coffeemakers. Other Keurigs do have more options for this.
• The Ninja was cheaper to buy and is cheaper to use than the Keurig. 
• I paid $79 on Amazon for the Ninja + $8.55 for a 3-year protection plan. I think I paid around $80 at Walmart for the Keurig in 2017 with no protection plan. Both machines have gone up in price.
• For a coffee/pod price comparison, the Amazon brand of whole bean coffee (that I can ground fresh for each brew) is $6.99/12oz bag
• The Amazon brand of ground coffee is $5.30/12oz bag
• The Amazon brand of pods is $23.37/100ct
• My Keurig made 6-10 ounces of coffee per pod.
• I use 1 tablespoon of ground coffee to 6-8 ounces of water.
• You can do the math here. My brain exploded when I tried. I make my coffee in the Ninja based on 1 tablespoon to every 6 ounces of water.
• The amount of coffee I use will depend on the ground type. The finer the grind, the less coffee I use.
• The Keurig was, for me, purely functional. It's great for saving time and effort in coffee-making.
• I enjoy making coffee in the Ninja. Because I am learning more about coffee, I like the "involvement" of brewing in the Ninja - or a French press, Moka pot, pour-over, etc.
• Keurig pods can be less messy than using the reusable filter in the Ninja. The paper filters are just as mess-free as with pods and take up less room in the trash.
• The Keurig has that water-in-reserve function which is how it cuts down on time. 

The 2 machines

The Ninja is 
behind the Keurig

Response to other reviewers concerns

• The glass carafe:
• It is nowhere near as fragile as I expected from reading some reviews Maybe the company read those reviews and made some changes?
• I am careful with the carafe and especially follow a couple of tips:
• I try not to set it down anywhere but on the warming plate. If I do sit it elsewhere, I make sure to put a dry dishcloth or paper towel underneath.
• I never put it in the dishwasher. I don't even put it in the sink with other dishes. 
• I rinse it after every use with water closest to whatever temp the glass happens to be & then I handwash it once a week or so.
• I make sure that the warming plate is dry before I set the carafe on it. (By the way, even with the "brew stopper" function, the liquid does drip when you remove the carafe.)
• The carafe pours nicely without dripping or making a mess. However, to completely empty it of liquid, I have to turn it upside down and rock it back and forth.  This is irritating but not a  big deal.
• The lid of the carafe does not flip open. It slides. If you don't click the lid into place, the carafe will not fit back in the machine.
• I have not had issues with the carafe staining badly. And I don't wash it after every use - only rinsing it with warm water.

• The brew basket & reusable filter:
• As with the lid of the carafe, the removable brew basket has to click into place before you can close its lid. (I only remove the basket for weekly cleanings.)
• The brew basket holds a lot of moisture no matter which filter you choose. This is annoying because that moisture drips and spills when replacing the carafe. (Remember, it's best to keep the warming plate dry.) I have gotten in the habit of keeping a clean dry dishcloth nearby just to stick in the basket in between making coffee. Or I will use a paper towel to dry it out.
• The brew stopper is handy for cheating some coffee before it's finished brewing. However, it does tend to drip when you remove the carafe.  Make sure to dry that warming plate before replacing the carafe.
• The brew stopper does keep coffee from leaking all over when you carry it to the trash to dump the filter.
• I prefer to use a paper filter but I have used the reusable filter a few times. The reusable filter does not let grinds through. It does let some "silt" through that you only notice when you get to the dregs of the cup.
• You are not supposed to use a paper filter inside the reusable filter. This affects the coffee's flavor. Use either one or the other.
• TIP: Some people believe that letting some silt through improves the flavor of the coffee. I haven't paid enough attention yet to notice a difference. I do have friends who make their ground coffee like you would instant coffee. They just add the water to the grounds in their cup and let the grounds settle before drinking the brew. 

• That water reservoir:
• The reservoir can be confusing because a lot of us have owned Keurigs.
•  Unlike with a Keruig, the Ninja's reservoir holds water only for the current brew. You have to fill the reservoir each time you brew coffee.
• If you are making 6 cups of coffee and put 8 cups of water in the reservoir, the machine will use all 8 cups of water.
• The purpose of the Ninja's water reservoir is only to make less mess. It's easier to fill the reservoir instead of trying to pour water into the back or top of a machine.
• I placed my machine near enough to the sink that I don't have to remove the reservoir to fill it. I either just use the sprayer from the sink or - most often - use filtered water from a pitcher.
• Some reviewers mentioned their machine starting to leak after some use. One reviewer suggested this might be from weakening the seals on the reservoirs by removing and replacing them. This is one reason I try to fill it without removing it. (I remove the reservoir every so often just to clean it with soap and water.)
• If you do need to remove the reservoir to fill it, it is a lot easier and less messy than filling the backs or tops of other machines.

Not bad for a manual.
Could be better

Basic use 

& the functions

• The Power & setting the clock:
•  If the machine is plugged into the wall, the clock still works and you can simply press the Power button on the front of the machine to start making coffee. You can turn that Power On or Off by pushing it. 
• If you leave it on, it will go into a "sleep" mode after a certain amount of time. In other words, I can leave the house and the machine will power off if I forget to turn it off. The warming plate's power is adjustable. 
• You can turn it off so that it doesn't start warming after your coffee has brewed or you can adjust it to stay on up to 4 hours after the brewing cycle. (I like this because I have left the house and worried about whether or not I turned off the coffee pot, unplugged the iron, locked all the windows...LOL)

• Brewing:
• The machine delivers good flavors. Really good. I actually gave away some coffee after brewing it in the percolator and not liking the taste. I had a little of that coffee left over that I brewed in the Ninja. It was delicious. 
• The one thing I always like about the Keurig is the quick brewing so I'm glad that the Ninja is not as slow as I expected. I did about 5 cups (brewed on Rich which takes longer) from 10:10 to 10:18. I did 4 cups (on Small Batch and Classic) that started at 10:36 and beeped out at 10:42. 
• While the Keurig is still much faster, I couldn't program it to start in the mornings. To be honest, I'd rather have my coffee waiting fresh when I wake up than brewing fast at other times.

• The Clean function:
• This is a favorite for me because just seeing the button reminds me to clean the machine if I keep forgetting.
• The manual and other users suggest cleaning the machine when:
• it begins to take longer than 12- 15 minutes to brew or
• when there are changes in the coffee flavor and/or strength 
• I know that the Clean light will come on, but I am not sure if that is at set intervals or just when the machine has issues.
• I can run the Clean function at any time by filling the reservoir and pushing the button.
• I use the Clean function with water only about once a week. I will use it with a vinegar and water solution about every other week.
• In addition to running the Clean function, I wipe the machine down (outside the machine, inside the brew basket, and the top of the showerhead) and rinse the reservoir on a regular basis.
• The first time I ran the Clean cycle (after about 15 cups of coffee)
• I ran the cycle with the reservoir filled to the 12-cup capacity.
• I started the cycle at 6:45 and it stopped at 7:17.
• The manual does not clarify the difference between "cleaning" and "descaling". Using my common sense, I assume "cleaning" is doing the basic wipedown/water run-through and "descaling" is running vinegar through the machine. I have not yet decided if I will use citric acid in descaling this machine. I have used that with the Keurig and other drip machines. I have posted before about the money-saving uses for citric acid.

• The Delay Brew function (to set for your wakeup):
• This was the function I hated most until I figured it out. The manual does a terrible job of explaining how to use it. This is the Ninja video which does a better job. The following are the steps I use:

1. Make sure the time on the clock is correct to the current time and the Power light is On.

2. Add your water to the reservoir & coffee to the basket. 

• TIP - for a practice run, don't use any coffee; just run water through. Trust me.
3. Choose brew type (mine is Small Batch, Classic)
4. Press Delay and the clock will start flashing
5. Set what time you want the coffee to start brewing (ex 6:00 am - and make sure of the AM/PM selection)
6. Press Delay
• If the programming worked, the Power light should be lit up along with the Delay and your brew type buttons. The warming plate light should NOT be light up. If it lights up, you've messed up & the machine will start brewing.
• If you messed up or need to change the wakeup brew time or brew type, press the Power button. It will beep. Press again. When it goes off (not lit up) you can turn it back on and start over with the Delay Brew steps.  
• I did mess up the first couple of times & the coffee immediately started brewing. That's why you should practice without adding any coffee. 
• TIP: If you get up earlier and want to start the brew right away, just press the Warming plate button. That will start the machine.

***Here is a video from Ninja with the Delay instructions shown***

I hope that the video helped along with having the steps written out here in this review.

The Clean cycle is running

• Temperatures
• Coffee fanatics (of which I am becoming one) say that the best temp for brewing drip coffee is between 195F-205F.
• My Ninja (checked with a basic food thermometer) clocked between 199F-208F - depending on whether the thermometer was placed directly under the showerhead or in the carafe after the brew had finished. (I'm sure that the electric percolator got to around 200 to 210 when I scalded my hand. The difference with the Ninja is that it's a rounder, easier-to-handle carafe vs the tall easy-to-tip percolator.)
• My coffee is always hot enough to ad creamer from the fridge without overcooling the brew.

inserted directly into the brew basket

inserted under the showerhead
while brewing

In Summary

• The pros outweigh the cons for me with this machine. If I pick what I am happiest with,
• The coffee tastes so good most of the time.
• The Auto-Off function, of course
• Being able to program the brew to start when I want. Surprisingly, this comes in handy on my infusion days. I love having coffee afterward but am usually too wiped out to make any. My brother usually stops at McDonald's just for me to grab a coffee on the way home.
• After using it several times a day for about 4 weeks, I am more than happy.
• The quality of the brews can be inconsistent depending on:
• The coffee being brewed
• Whether I'm using the reusable filter or a paper filter
• The grind I select for the coffee-to-water ratio
• Whether I use Classic or Rich brew selection
• Basically, I have been responsible for all the quality issues - either by choice of coffee or preparation. 
• I've had no problems with the carafe - which was my biggest concern from reading other reviews. I take care of it but don't baby it.
• If I had to pick what still bugs me after this month of using it:
• The Power button being so hard to depress.
• The way the brew basket case holds & drips water in between dumping the filter.
• That the 2-cup batches of coffee "cook" very quickly. I will even sometimes make 3rd cup just to solve this. Ideally, 4 cups or more is best.

By the way, right after I got this coffeemaker, I had to buy some non-pod coffee. I got both whole bean and ground for myself and was given several coffees to sample. When asked by someone if I had settled on a preference, I had to say no. However, I am leaning toward these - in order of how much I like them:

1. Cafe Bustelo (done in the Ninja and as faux espresso with the stovetop percolator). It's less than $2.50 for the 10oz brick at Aldis where I can snack a couple of the bricks with my regular grocery delivery. Amazon is crazy stupid expensive with it. 
2. 8 O'clock Columbian Peaks whole bean (daily in the Ninja). This is under $7 for 11 ounces at Hyvee and a much better bargain at Amazon at about $10 for 22 ounces whole bean. I'm about to do a Subscribe & Save because I drink so much of this.
3. Illy Intenso whole bean (my next favorite to Bustelo for a very dark roast drip). This is around $12 via Instacart from Hyvee and Target for just 8.8 ounces of ground. Amazon hast the same sizes in the whole bean for about the same price. It's good stuff but high & I only use it when I have the extra money in the budget. "'Extra' money," she said, choking on her laughter.

I will, of course, be doing reviews on all the coffee I've gotten to try. Kaladi Brothers Coffee - which is just legendary in Anchorage - is online and is going to be sending samples. I plan to find something I like and get a subscription because of the free shipping. Yay. Then I will be able to drink their coffee out of my Kaladi travel thermos.

So there you go. Probably the most detailed review I have ever written. Probably more detailed than anyone has written about a coffeemaker. If you are geeky enough to want more details, check out this review. It gives a lot of specs and other technical information that I glossed over.

Peace

--Free

(Repost) **GRIOT** Devil Beating His Wife

(I'm going to be posting twice today. When I was recycling some of my old posts I realized how mundane this blog has been lately. I think I have gotten away from why I started this blog. I always wanted to share my thoughts and feelings as a way to uplift people - and myself. I used to blog about things that perhaps other people could relate to. Looking at some of the more recent posts, all I see are product reviews. How did that happen?

Anyway, I am going to still post product reviews but I really want to focus on life and living and being. For today, I am resharing a Griot post first then I will finally put up a review of that dang Ninja coffeemaker that I have been trying to finish for the longest. This Griot post is from July 11, 2019. It's one of my family's favorites.)

Being the child and grandchild of southerners, I grew up hearing a lot of odd phrases. To be honest, my relatives just talked plain funny. They had weird phrases and they painted the English language with a beautiful array of colors. My people used language in their own way, just as they put a unique spin on living life.

my mother in her late 20's-early 30's (?)

 For the longest time, I thought that only my mother said things like "You don't believe fat meat's greasy". That was for when I was being warned that my misbehaving was about to get me a whooping. Modern mothers threaten to start counting to ten, my mom had more colorful ways of warning me.

 While a lot of the phrases I heard had to do with consequences of my behavior (for instance, my butt was constantly in debt from all the checks my mouth wrote), there were some to go with everything from the weather to someone being sick.

I remember whenever it rained while the sun was shining, my mother would say that the Devil was beating his wife. I was surprised to learn just now how commonly that saying is used - and in a lot of cultures. I'm going to have to go take a closer look at that website.

one of the aunties

When my Yankee friends were "about to" do something, I was "fixing to". When Yanks were not paying you any attention, I wasn't "studdin" (or studying) you. You might be going to Heaven, but I'm going up "yonder". We also go over yonder, back yonder, or way yonder.

I'm not sure if this one is Southern or not, but where others might say someone had you wrapped around their finger, we'd say that they had your nose wide open. Another way to put that is to say that someone has your drawers (underpants) hanging on a bedpost. That, I think, had something to do with voodoo (or "hoodoo"). Another one from the voodoo files is to say that someone must have "worked a root" on you.

an uncle with a church group

Maybe right here is where I can get into my Big Mama's fear of all things pagan. Big Mama wouldn't eat food if she didn't know who cooked it. If she didn't know you, she wouldn't eat your food unless she had watched you prepare it. Why? Cause she was scared of hoodoo. For that same reason, she never left her comb or hairbrush laying around where just anybody could get to it. As Christian as she was (which is why she didn't like voodoo/hoodoo), she wasn't ashamed of her superstitions. She was one of those people who, after accidentally spilling salt, would toss some over her shoulder. Yes, my Bible-believing grandmother could be so unconsciously paranoid that it was kind of hilarious.

 These are some random photos from an old
photo album of my mother's

I don't know most of the people except that they are aunts, uncles, extended cousins, or 
very close family friends.

 I thought it would be cool for my younger nieces & nephews to see these photos. I just now started posting links to this blog of Facebook because that's where the kids hang out!

 

 I love the hair & clothing fashion of the '30s, '40s, and '50s.










Maybe because of their cultural ancestry, or maybe just because they were very practical and thrifty people, my relatives even dealt with health issues in their own ways. I've already talked a lot about my grandmother using asafetida poultices to deal with chest colds. I suppose there's a reason 'fetid' is in the name, but I just learned another thing: that asafetida gets its name from being funky. Wow,. At any rate, my mother never tortured me or my siblings with it but our Big Mama made up for it by giving us daily tablespoons of Castor oil. You might want to throw up every morning after your dose of oil but you were never constipated around Big Mama.

On my mother's side of the family, it was less about the countrified 'slanguage' and more about the Texan lifestyle. Where back in Hope, Arkansas where our Big Mama took us fishing with worms for bait, my West Texan grandfather let us enjoy his walnut and pecan trees. My mother would make homemade, fresh-churned ice-cream right in the front yard of Grandaddy Bud's house. Back in Arkansas, we ate bacon from pigs my grandmother's husband, Mr. Brown owned. We had fresh eggs and meat from his chickens.  In Texas, we ate peaches and apples and crab apples fresh off Granddaddy Bud's trees.

My granddaddy Bud always owned a pickup truck of some kind. My cousins and I would ride in the back while he went around to different homestead's taking care of business and sharing the goods from his trees. I remember one time when he took us on a long ride out "in the country" and showed us fields of cotton ready to be harvested. He told us to ask our mothers about their time spent picking cotton as kids. My mother told me that it was one of the ways she and her cousins made money as young girls. They would spend hours in the field, filling bag after bag with the cotton. I was absolutely horrified, but my mother had good memories of the time spent with her cousins and friends out in those fields. Even though she explained to me that there was a difference between being forced to pick cotton and being given a choice to get paid for doing it... I never could handle it. Years later, when I went through my stage of being a junior revolutionary and idolizing Newton and Seale for being bravely defiant, I would just cringe when I thought of my mother picking cotton.

Back when I was young, church and religion was a different experience depending on which grandparent I was visiting. My dad's mom (Big Mama) was deeply religious but didn't attend church on a regular basis. Nevertheless, if there was a heavy storm, she made everyone (kids and adults) get still and quiet. If there was any lightning or thunder involved, well, forget doing anything but taking a nap. You weren't going to disrespect the Lord in Big Mama's house by doing much of anything until the storm passed. To this day, during a heavy storm, I will sit my tail down and try to be still until the weather calms down. Unlike Big Mama, I don't go around unplugging everything, but I'm not trying to party down.

I didn't realize it until I was writing this post, but apparently, I carry a lot of my recent ancestors around in my behavior. Yesterday, I was cooking some sausage in my new cast iron and I flashed back on my mother standing in front of the stove, cooking something in her cast iron. I understand that people we love don't go ever completely away. They are in our memories of them. They are in the lingering memory of their touch or the sound of their laughter. They are here with us in the ways they affected us, changed us, or made us love them.

Peace
--Free

For the video pick, I think this one is just about perfect.

(Repost) **GRIOT** Named and Loved

 (Okay, this one from 7/13/19 is the last of the repostings. The sarc fog is easing up. I've been drinking a lot of coffee and am working on the review of the new coffeemaker. For this last recycling of posts, I wanted to share one that always makes me smile. My family is my whole heart and just thinking of them makes me feel better and blessed and able to keep going. If you don't have blood relatives, your friends can be your family. Your neighbors can be your family. Whoever your "family" is, always think of them with love.)

Okay, so I was chatting online with some of the nieces and nephews about these Griot posts. They love hearing about their 'grandpeople' and I love sharing what I can remember. Since the cousins are all about the genealogy these days, I thought that I could talk about some of the names that run in our line.

A name is a special thing. Your surname can be a kind of placeholder in history. Your first names sometimes are meant to reflect the hopes pinned on you. In the Bible, names are very important. God would change people's names or bless their names. Today, we honor our Adamic past by giving children Bible names. I watched a documentary the other day where the presenter noted that you won't find a lot of children named after Judas Iscariot. I had never thought of that before. Personally, I have always believed that the name a child grows up with can have a serious impact on their personality and attitude, not to mention in how the rest of the world might see them. That's why we make cruel fun of people by calling them a "Becky" or "Shanequa" - and I have been cruel in that way...

In my family, nicknames were kind of a big deal. My mother had an older brother named Eber but everyone called him "Mutt". Uh, yeah. Don't ask because I don't know. There were other male relatives or close friends known as Sonny, Sonny Boy, Snookie Boy, and Bugs.

One of my mother's sisters - the one who passed before I was old enough to know her - had a beautiful name: French L. The "L" didn't stand for anything, it was just part of her birth name. I do remember that some of my folks would pronounce her name as "Frānch L.", going long on the 'a'. Apparently, she was as beautiful as her name. She must have been a riot though. I heard one story about her once being a little tipsy and admonishing a child for having their shoes on the wrong feet. The child knew better than to mention it, but the adults who were there cracked up laughing because Aunt French L's shoes were also on the wrong feet. Aunt French L's granddaughter was named after her but we mostly called her just "French" or "Frenchie".

Some of the adults I knew as a child were always referred to by their initials. To this day, I can't tell you what Aunt French L's husband's real name was. We just called him Mr. J.B.

My father always called my mother Hon but most of her other family and friends called her "Tootsie" (or, as they pronounced it, "Too-see"). This is because she was very dark-complected but, as a child and teenager, had fire-red hair. Being so black-skinned with that red hair, she looked to them like a Tootsie Pop. She dyed her hair a deep brown for years until it started to grow in a darker auburn. Here's something crazy: I'm very dark-skinned like my mother and my hair also tends towards auburn if I don't keep it dyed. In addition to that, I inherited from my father blue encircled irises. It's a harmless condition and not a totally uncommon thing although it can freak people out when the sun hits my eyes the right way. Without the sun shining into them, most people don't notice anything different about my dark brown eyes.

Back to the wonderful nicknames, one of my favorite uncles - formally named a Jr after his father, Oscar Sr - was always called Hot Shot (or 'Hah-sha'). My grandfather was known to his friends as "Bud". Oscar Sr's wife (my step-grandmother) was "Miss Ollie" to everyone, including me and the other grandchildren. By the way, young Rudy Cosby sounded just like Miss Ollie did when saying "Bud".

Granddaddy Bud's first wife, my grandmother, was named Gretchel but, for some reason, everyone called her "Aunt Jack".For the longest time, I thought her first name must have been Jacqueline or Jackie.

I had a cousin we always called "Yogi". Whenever a teacher in school used her birth name of Saundra, everyone - including Yogi - would look around to see who she was referring to. Other cousins and peers of mine had names that had to do with sweetness: Peaches, Cookie, Sugar, and Candy. I use those names for characters in my stories because I loved the real people.

Now that  I think of it, my Texas family were the ones with nicknames. Not so much with my Arkansas relatives. I'm going to have to think about that a little bit. Actually, my dad's father was never called George; everyone called him Mr.Tampa and I don't know why that is since "Tampa" was no part of his actual name... Now I'm going to have to get in touch with one of the aunties! I need to know what was going on with my grandpa's name!

Remember now that my paternal grandfather - Mr. Tampa - was a Louisiana man. His relatives did have nicknames. I remember a distant female cousin (?) that was called "Big'un". I really am going to have to talk to my paternal aunties because I cannot remember some of the other nicknames for the Lousiana family...

My oldest brother was called "Chubby". When he was younger, he was, in fact, kind of chubby. My sister who I've talked so much about over the years was nicknamed "Mike" and there's a story behind that. I was Penny to my parents and siblings up until I became a teenager. One of my older brothers still calls me by that nickname on occasion and I had one uncle who called me that until he died a couple of years ago. Apparently, as an infant, I was copper-colored like a new penny. As I got older and my skin darkened, one of my older brothers started calling me "Black Knight". Yeah. Cute... In high school, I went through a phase where I used only my middle name: Michele. Some of my closest friends back then called me Bones because I was so rail-thin. Oh, the good old days of carbs without consequences!

Names are not just an identity. Your name belongs to you in a way that can help shape your identity. When you love someone - through kinship, friendship, or romance - their name on your tongue has the taste of your relationship with them. You might remember that favorite quote of mine is by a child who defined love as keeping someone's name safe in your mouth. That's so real.

Thinking back to some of the first people, Adam's and Eve's names had meaning. Even God has several names and they each have a special meaning. I personally like to think of Him as El Shaddai and Elohim. To go further, even love has different names. In reference to my faith, Agape (or Agapao) love is the one that most comforts me.

So, when you think of your loved ones and speak their names, remember what the Bible teaches about the power of the tongue. Keep those names safe in your mouth. Speak their names with love and peace and hope for their well-being. Even when speaking of your enemies, be careful not to use their names in ways you wouldn't want anyone to use yours.

Peace
--Free

And since I am in a praising the Lord mood right now, here's some Third Day with beautiful lyrics

(Repost) Sarcoidosis and the Worth of Life

 (This is another repost - hopefully the last - and it's from 5/21/19. At the time, I was struggling both emotionally & physically. Currently, I am only dealing with my brain acting a fool. My body is not misbehaving as much. I've had my last COVID vaccine done and wonder if it just set me back a bit. At any rate, I read this post and realized how blessed I am, in spite of everything. Times can get really dark but I have friends and family who love me back into the light. Corny, yes, but true. If you can relate to this post, please know that things can get better. Don't give up, don't give in. If you ever go down, go down fighting. Be your own advocate.)

The past couple of weeks have been brutal. I am a couple weeks past due for my infusion because of a paperwork screwup somewhere and my body is in full rebellion. At this point in my life, I sometimes wonder about the value of prolonging the life of someone with a chronic illness. Seriously.

I once got to see a bill for my infusions and it scared the crap out of me. The numbers were just crazy. And I always feel bad about the weight my illness puts on the "system". What is life worth, really? And what is the balance? If you think about what you mean to the world - to society - and try to weigh it against what it costs to maintain your life...

In a week, I have two or three great days of health. The rest of the time I am depleted by one of my medicines. Every eight weeks, I get an infusion and feel amazing for about three weeks. "Amazing" as in even my weekly med doesn't bring me as far down as normal. Right now I'm feeling worn out from the one thing I managed to do today - walk over to the market for things to make tea and a snack. I had to rest for a couple of hours before I made the tea. All I've done with the rest of my day is lay down and try to fight the heavier-than-usual fatigue and make phone calls about the screwed up paperwork. So I am just questioning a lot of things.

I'm not a mother and I no longer am responsible for the nieces I helped raise. I'm no longer a wife or life partner. My contribution to society overall is fairly limited. So what is the value of life?

Today has just been really tough. I'm sitting on top of all my feelings wearing this crown of self-doubt and trying to talk to God about it all. Sometimes, though, the higher I sit on my mountain of feelings, the further I feel from Him.

What is the value of life? That's what I'm going to be thinking about when I lay back down. And I am going to have to lay back down because just sitting up long enough to post this has worn me out again.

I really hate this fucking sarcoidosis. I hate the way it makes me feel and I hate the way it makes me think - when I can think. I hate how it has come into my life and just bulldozed over everything that makes me sure of my value.

Peace
--Free

(Repost) Back to Church

(I'm recycling some old posts while my brain is on a sarc-induced hiatus. This one is from 5/14/19. I've been listening to music that uplifts my heart while I rest my body. One of my favorites is "Redeemed" and my mother and I both loved "In the Upper Room" and, another of my faves & and because Buckley does such an amazing tribute to Mahalia with his version"Satisfied Mind".)

I can't remember (and don't have the patience to check) whether or not I have ever posted here about why I left the Pentecostal church. Basically, it was all about that church being a legalistic man-based religion instead of being Bible-based and God-led. The church I grew up in worried more about a person's outer appearance than they did the inner heart. And they really loved to pick and choose which parts of Jesus' teachings to follow.

Anyway.

One thing I did always love about the church services of my youth was the music. There is no Broadway production that can beat a Sunday service at the right church. When the preacher finishes performing, then comes the choir with its musicians.

I have always had a hard time explaining to people what the music was like in the church I grew up in. Then I found this video. It took me back 45 years and sat me down in a pew in Big Spring, Texas just like I never left.

This is why some church services lasted well into the night. Just when you thought you were going to be dismissed and get to go home, someone on the keyboard or drums would get inspired to hit one more note and then someone else would start to get "happy" and we'd be back into another round of singing and shouting. I got used to being in church and banging a tambourine until as late as ten o'clock on a school night.

Say what you want about all the stuff that's just wrong about the "Holiness" church, you can't badmouth the musical talent.

My ex and his cousins were the musicians in our church and their talent was just astounding. My ex is the best musician I know. He grew up in church and around all that great music. Too bad that growing up around all the preaching didn't rub off on his behavior as a human being.

I want to mention that not all people associated with the church were bad. There were a lot of good, well-meaning and true-hearted Christians who attended. Just like in the rest of the world though, it's easier to focus on and criticize the worst of the bunch.

Peace
--Free

(Repost) Language is Awesome

(This one, from 6/10/19 is one of my favorite posts. Since my sarc-brain is the reason I had to take a break, I thought this one was perfect. If you notice, at the time of the original post, I was having some "thinking problems". One of the annoyances of what I call "sarc-brain" is the use of words. I get a little fuzzy and incoherent because I can't think very clearly. Or something that seems to make perfect sense to me comes out of my mouth in a way that makes people struggle to understand me. If it's really bad, I won't even try to hold conversations. I start repeating myself or forgetting which words to use in which context. And I am not even sure right now if that last sentence makes sense. When re-reading this post, I also remembered that I promised to do posts on some of my favorite poets. I don't know if I ever did that. Maybe I will have to check and do something about that promise. In the meantime, enjoy.)

 (Note: today is a little blurry for me. I will make this post as coherent as I can.)

I was watching that show "Beyond Scared Straight" the other night and I'm ashamed to say that I found way too much humor in some of the episodes. One of the parents made a remark that was so funny I had to pause the show to call my girlfriend. First, I had to finish laughing.

First I have to tell you that back in the day, one of my mother's admonishments was "Your mouth's going to write a check your ass can't cash." Well, a parent on that show topped it. When her fast ass daughter was acting out, she told her that her alligator mouth was going to override her hummingbird ass. Man, that is freaking awesome. I'm saving that up for the next time I get to chastise a child.

In a recent post when I was discussing my potty mouth, I didn't get into how much I love the poetry of slang. I wonder if a lot of the popularity of pop music isn't more about the words than the beat. The first time I heard the phrases  "turn up" ( or "turnt" up) and "turn down", I knew they were going to be favorites. I heard "turn down" in a song by DJ Snake and Lil Jon. I'm not a huge Lil Jon fan and I still have no idea who DJ Snake is, but every now and then, I'll hear that song in my head and walk around for hours singing to myself, "Turn down for what?" One of my SILs - also too old or this mess - has started using the phrase.

Once, when my teenaged nephew accompanied me on a shopping trip, he introduced me to a trendy descriptor that I kind of love. I was looking for a specific brand of sandals but couldn't find a pair that I liked. Too pink, too orange, and too "why in the hell did they make a day-glo green pair?' Finally, I explained to the clerk the color I just had to have was muted pink on black. I wanted them to wear with a tracksuit of the same color scheme. I guess I was being just a little dramatic. My nephew made the remark that I was being "so extra". Listen. I knew immediately what he was saying about me. And I loved it. I was ashamed of being such a broke-ass drama queen, but I loved the phrase.


Words are just beautiful building blocks, aren't they? Each generation can change and rearrange them to fit the times. This is why we should read works of literature and prose from all time periods. We are missing out if we only focus on the here and now of art.

Speaking of the (not-too-distant) past, I was only about 13 o r14 when I first read Gwendolyn Brooks' poem "We Real Cool" and even then the intense wordplay aroused my brain. Later in my life, Nikki Giovanni's "And I Have You" and "Resignation" affected me in the same way. But those ladies are officially poets. What I also love is when wordplay just spills out of the streets and into the general lexicon. (By the way, I'm going to have to talk about those two ladies in another post.)

I enjoy just listening to people converse. Some of you might call that eavesdropping, but hear me out. It's not what people talk about but how they talk. The way a person uses language is such a part of their personality. I guess it's what comics call "delivery" It's why one of my nieces is so funny without even trying. (One of my favorite comedians is Kathleen Madigan. She mostly talks about her family and her fairly ordinary life. So why do I end up laughing until I can't breathe?)

Sometimes, when I am not eavesdropping, I pick up and decide to use slang words without knowing enough about them. I've always known that "bae" was a term of affection that older people don't (or shouldn't) use. What I didn't know is that it stands for "before anyone else". Well, damn. No matter what age you are, that's sweet.

To explain someone being upset by saying that they are "salty" is just too perfect. Back in the day, we'd explain someone angry as having their jaws tight or being "heated". I still use that one. I also personally love the term "slay". That so truly expresses someone on top of their game.

"Thirsty" is one of those terms I should not have used before I understood that it meant horny. I thought that when you were "thirsting" for someone, you were just attracted to them. Okay, so technically...

The first time I saw "GOAT" on social media, my silly ass automatically went into conspiracy theory mode. (Stop laughing.) When I found out it stands for "greatest of all time", I wasn't that impressed.

About 10 years back, my older nieces and nephews loved teasing me about staying up with current slang. Well, what goes around comes around and everybody ages. These days, they are getting the same teasing from my younger family members.

I wonder if most people even realize where a lot of the current social media slang comes from. Do they care? Or are they just slinging around phrases mindlessly (the way I did with "thirsty")?.

The now overused term "woke" has been appropriated by just about every internet hipster. I don't think many of them know anything about  William Melvin Kelley. Some of them might have learned about Marcus Garvey. My father taught me about the writings of Kelley and I was given an overview of Garvey at some point in school. I don't remember much about either. Now I have to add them to my list of things to research.

Of course, I know that a lot of black slang dribbled down from our slavery era ancestors. There are - or were - a lot of communities and groups of people who have their own patois.  A lot of us cobbled together languages made up of our mother tongue mated with American English. I think this is what Zora Neale Hurston was paying tribute to when writing phonetically.

Speaking of Hurston and cobbled language, if you really want your mind blown, go check out the Gullah language. My mother had relatives who grew up speaking what she called "Geechee". I wish now that I had paid more attention and asked questions when Mom talked about these people.  I met some of these relatives when I was very young so I don't remember much about their speaking style. (Now I have to go and look at the Gullah language Bible because... who knew?) Thank goodness for the internet.

Not knowing a language is one thing. You expect to feel excluded. What's crazy is that I can sit next to a person speaking English and have no idea what they are saying. I suppose every generation has its own sub-language made up out of their mother tongue. My younger nieces and nephews speak in 'slanguage' I call internet shorthand. Everything is acronyms and abbreviations spoken in rapid-fire bursts. And it's not just with the net-speak; it's the hieroglyphic texts. Adults who haven't kept up at all with internet slang can't read half the stuff on a kid's phone.

We older folk should break out some of the slang we once used or at least were familiar with. I clearly remember my brothers and their friends using terms that would still work today. If someone was deeply in love, you'd say that their nose was wide open. Instead of expressing frustration by saying "doggone", you'd say "dag".

To go further back in history with black slang, check out this Glossary of Harlem Slang by Ms. Hurston. The term "jelly" was still in use when I was young and I had no idea what it meant until I was grown. As a matter of fact, a lot of music lovers have no idea what the term "jelly roll" means in the blues or why so many blues musicians include it in their names. I think Jelly Roll Morton is the most famous.

Update: A social media contact emailed to tell me that she and her friends say "Jelly" as shortspeak for "jealous". I cannot keep up with it, people. But now I know something new. Thanks, L.D.

Just for kicks, I'm going to link to this video of Bessie Smith singing "Nobody In Town Can Bake A Sweet Jelly Roll Like Mine". Enjoy.

So, yes, language is awesome, but only if we use it to include, not exclude. And that's the main point of this post. Or at least, I think it is. I don't know, I started it yesterday and kind of lost my way with it. Oh well. Now I think I am going to go and read up on that Gullah Bible I just discovered.

Peace
--Free

"I'd like to think I'm a mess you'd wear with pride."

Yes. Absolutely.