That Time I Ranted on the Internet

I try to keep my opinions regarding social issues to myself on the Internet.  I share my opinions with those who already know me personally and are aware of my good intentions.

However, consider this my first Internet rant.

The situation:

This weekend, I saw a child, no older than 10 years old, wearing a black “Piko” (I just found out what a Piko is – I thought it was just classified as a large shirt), some Aztec leggings, fur boots, carrying a purse on her shoulder and had a smart phone in her hand as she walked through Home Depot.  I looked up to see her mother who was wearing the same thing, just different colors.

Now, these people have done nothing to me directly.  Their existence doesn’t affect mine.  This is not meant to offend or pass judgment, but to invoke conversation.

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Dropped off the Face of the Earth

…is evidently what I’ve done.

I would like to tell you all about how I’ve been too busy around the house with super cool DIY projects to update the blog.

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Nursery Update: The Hard Part’s Over!

I am in love with this room!

Nursery 1
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Hello, 2014!

We welcome you!  2013 was a wonderful year and we’re certain 2014 will be just as grand.

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Instead of NaNoWriMo

I am no writer, so the November writing challenge, NaNoWriMo, intimidated me to the point that I only posted two articles in November.

Now, December is almost over and I still haven’t posted an article.  That’s just laziness.  Though, I am sure I could contribute writer’s block to the still-present November writing pressure.

Instead, I’ve done these things:
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My Experience at a “Black” Funeral

This is, by no means, meant to be racist.  To confirm, I have dated people of different races.  That should vouch for me, right?

It is only meant to share my experience in funerals I’ve attended and the one funeral that was the most uplifting funeral I’ve ever seen.

I’ve only ever been to funerals for white people, specifically family members.  In 24 years, I’d never been to a funeral for a friend.  In 2013, I attended my first funeral for a friend who happened to be a black man.

His name was Dale.  He was 54 years old.  He started working at the post office a few months before my dad started there.  So, when he was alive, Dale knew my dad longer than I did.

For two years, he delivered mail to the law firm where I worked.  We were in a downtown office, so he walked a good bit of his route.  During the Mississippi summer, he would be sweaty and parched by the time he reached our office.  I would anticipate his arrival and have a cold bottle of water waiting for him.  I never saw this man without a smile.  He was a happy guy who was eager to talk about his family and tell me stories of my dad during his early post office years.  He was a wonderful person.

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A Lauren Original: DIY Coffee Table or How “Community” Understands Me

Woodworking runs in the McCoy family.  I’ve recently gained an interest in its art form.  Danny and I have dabbled here and there, building a simple plant stand for the four plants we had in 2012, then again when we built a better plant stand for our 25 plants we kept alive in 2013.

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