Happy Birthday Lenni!

Dear Lennox,

From the moment you picked me, I knew you were a little off...er..."unique." The rest of your litter-mates were either wrestling one another or taking what was probably their 10th nap of the morning. You, however, were trying to get chose. As I tried to get a good look at each of your siblings, they all remained attentive to their respective activities, while you walked around the pin following my every step. It was as if you knew exactly what was about to go down. I conceded, finally, and picked you up, and you tucked your little head into my arm as if to claim your stake. I put you down in an effort to not make an emotional decision. Puppy picking is serious business -- a job that shouldn't be taken lightly. I tried to analyze temperament, color, ear shape of all of the puppies; but you were persistent. At this point, if I didn't choose you, it would've been like not picking the kid in the wheelchair to be on my team during field day. But, I assure you, I've never for a second, regretted it being you. I often joke that we got "the defective one" - slow to catch onto new tricks, and not to mention you shed, which was NOT what we signed up for when we decided on an hyperallergenic  goldendoodle. But defective or not, I'd choose you. Every time. 

Thank you for reeling in my short fuse, and teaching me just how patient love really is.

Thank you for not being a shoe chewer. I would've hated to end up in jail.

Thank you for eating those 5 pairs of panties that one time and consequently obliterating your crate with a poop + vomit combo for the books. It proved to me that your dad really does love me and I'm not in this [literal] shit alone.

Also, thank you for getting queasy from said panties a few days later and sending me into a state of panic, thus causing me to bite the $150 emergency vet bullet. Only for them to tell me you were fine and send us on our way with a receipt and and anti-nausea meds you only needed once. It taught me that you're tough as nails and a nice lesson on emergency savings.

Thank you for shamelessly loving me more than your dad, because I couldn't deal with it the other way around.

Thank you for failing every single guard dog test and showing me that while you can't protect me from strange sounds or potential intruders, you can and will force all 50lbs of you into my lap and be scared with me.

But most of all, thank you for redefining love for me. True, selfless, unconditional, unrelenting love. I'm convinced God gave us dogs to be examples of love. To remind us that love, in its purest form is patient. It's kind. It keeps no record of wrongdoings. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. I'm convinced God gave me you - and all of your uncanny quirkiness - to remind me of His love. And for that I am eternally grateful.

Happy 1st Birthday, bug. Sorry about the hat.

Xo,

Aquia

BLOOM, the picnic

A couple of months ago, during one of my regular Target visits, I walked past all of their super cute picnic baskets and picnic accessories and thought to myself, I want to host a picnic. I immediately took my thoughts to Pinterest and dug deep for "pretty picnic" inspiration. 

Soon after, I decided I wanted to make this a picnic that celebrated black women. Those who are close to me, those I'm not particularly close to, but who inspire me from afar. And with the recent tragedies that have plagued both my African American community and my Dallas community, the timing couldn't be more impeccable. I dubbed it BLOOM, the picnic. B.L.O.O.M = Black Looks Outstanding On Me. 

I spent a weekend day warehouse hopping in search of discarded wooden pallets and the plan was to create a long ground table, around which we would sit with blankets and throw pillows. The day of the picnic the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, I'd loaded all of the pallets into a rented truck and minutes before I planned to leave, the sky parted and a tsunami literally fell from the sky. This was really happening. To me. Of course. We tried to wait it out, but it didn't seem to be getting any better and the grass was inevitably soaked. So a plan B was put into motion. "You can plan a pretty picnic, but you can't predict the weather." Touché, Outkast. Duly noted. 

Although I didn't lay not one pallet, and we were robbed of natural sunlight for my pre-planned pictures, I couldn't have been happier with the turn out. We moved the party indoors and had the best food, the best wine, and the best conversation. 

I made my first naked cake garnished with fresh flowers! I totally impressed myself. I'll likely share a tutorial in the future. the topper is also a DIY project. 

Eventually, and hopefully sometime this summer, I'll get to have my pretty picnic. With my pretty pallet project. But it'll definitely have big shoes to fill.  

Photography by the super talented (who I get to call my little sister), Nolita Nouveau.  

The Art of Being On Time

"Arriving late is a way of saying that your own time is more valuable than the time of the person who waited for you." - Karen Joy Fowler

#Message. Don't get your panties in a bunch (or do, idc) but there is something to be said for punctuality that I don't think enough people say. It's truly a lost art... or maybe it was never found? I can't call it. But as the [mostly] punctual friend, I've spent more hours waiting for people than I can count. And that is both frustrating and annoying. 

Backstory: When I was a young, dependent, unlicensed, adolescent child, I was perpetually late for most events that my mom was responsible for getting me to. It was embarrassing most times and the only thing that helped ease the embarrassment was that each time I was late, I could depend on my friend Courtney (hey girl!) to be significantly later. I used to feel an immense sense of frustration that she (my mom) would wait until the very last hour to decide to clean the entire house or run a seemingly unimportant errand before dropping me off to wherever I needed to be. I think that's what created the spark. I WILL NOT BE UNTIMELY LIKE MY MOTHER, I repeated to myself most days. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom, but for having been in the military half of her life, I just cannot wrap my mind around her lack of punctuality. 

There are maybe two things that are acceptable and, in most cases expected, to be late to. One of them is a party and the second, I'm still thinking about. As a hostess, I understand the stress that is sometimes accompanied with getting things set up before your guests arrive. That said, it is courteous that you do not arrive earlier than the time requested. In general, a 15-minute window is acceptable. 

But happy hour? Brunch or dinner? Going out, meeting up, etc.? Nah, homie. There are few appropriate excuses.

Person A: I am so sorry I am late. I was stuck in traffic.
Person B: No kidding. Cause, ya know, I chartered a plane to get here!

To all my late friends (I have a lot of you lol), I love yall, but it's easy to feel like that love (or in other instances, respect) is not reciprocated when something as precious as time is not prioritized. And that extends to acquaintances, business meetings, etc. 

Here are some ways to ensure you're on time that have been tried and true for me: 

1. Know yourself/your routine. You should know or have a general idea of how long it takes you to get ready from start to finish. If that process includes showering, brushing teeth, finding an appropriate outfit, ironing, hair, makeup, perfume spraying, etc., know how long it takes. How does one do that? Time it. Simply consider all the things you need to do, and time yourself, multiple times, so you have an idea of the average amount of time it takes YOU to complete YOUR routine. 
2. Plan your route. Know how long it takes to get to your destination. With all of the gadgets and apps at your disposal, this should be seamless. If from point A to point B takes roughly 31 minutes, factor in the time it takes you to get ready, and add 35-40 minutes for travel.
3. Consider extenuating circumstances. Shit happens. People can't drive and cause accidents. Parking sucks and you have to drive around in 5 circles to find a spot. Understandable. However, that's another factor you need to add in. In general, I add in about 10 minutes for ICSH (in case shit happens). Also Waze. Because if you're not using Waze to navigate your life, we need to talk. 

To say I'm never tardy would be a lie. However, even when I'm running 5 minutes behind, my stress and anxiety is through. the. roof. Why would I constantly put myself through that pressure? The absolute worst is when the occasional bit of tardiness strikes, and anxiety and stress consume me, I get to my destination and still have to wait for person A. <insert red-faced angry emoji here>. 

At face value, tardiness is a habit. A very bad habit. It's not in your chemical makeup. It's not inherited. It's a habit. And like all habits, it's breakable. There's still hope. You've just got to consider time as a valuable asset and learn to be more appreciative and thus respectful of it (and other people's). People shouldn't have to try to force themselves to build a bad habit of tardiness to accommodate yours. 

Simply consider the burden of being waited on and do whatever you can to eliminate it. Don't commit to what you can't deliver. Aim to arrive 10 minutes early...and build that 10 minutes into your drive and ICSH time. 

I hope I didn't ruffle feathers, but I cannot imagine I'm alone in this sentiment. What are your thoughts on punctuality? Is it more important in certain situations (like work or doctor's appointments), but not as important when meeting with friends or co-workers (hint: the answer is hell no)? Let me know. 

Xo, 

Aquia