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So I finished Parable of the Talents.
And I have to say that the series didn’t fully move me until the second half of the second book. The first book was interesting to the prepper in me, as well as the second book.
*spoiler alert*

but the fact that her belief system was SUCCESSFUL was just so fulfilling for me!
The book says “…it was no accident that the church and the school were the same. They weren’t just the same building. They were the same institution. If the Earthseed Destiny is to have any meaning beyond a distant mythical paradise, Earthseed must be not only a belief system but a way of life. Children should be raised in it. Adults shouldl be reminded of it often, refocused on it, and urged toward it. Both should understand how their current behavior is or isn’t contributing to the fulfillment of the Destiny. By the time we’re able to send Earthseed children to college, they should be dedicated not only to a course of study, but to the fulfillment of the Destiny. If they are, then any course of study they choose cna become a tool for the fulfillment.”

…I love that so very much.
It’s very true. If you have a system of belief, THIS IS HOW YOU SHOULD HANDLE IT. Prophetic words. Prophetic words! Build your meeting place, make it the school for the children as well! WHY do we send our children off to these schools when we KNOW we don’t agree with the MAJORITY of the stuff going on over there???

So there’s that. I haven’t given the book back to the library yet. We had a situation — my daughter lost her library card so we had to renew it, and they didn’t remove the books from that old card so that they could be re-checked out under the new card.
It’s overdue.
When I was a child I would NOT have returned it. SMH

My mother sent her DNA in to and it came back and said the following about her:

84.1% Sub-Saharan African (79.7% of that being West African, the rest being Central and South African)
13% European (6.9% Northern European – British or Irish, and 6.3% Southern European, specifically Iberian)
and 2.4% Native American

Of course my sister’s and mine will vary from that slightly because of our father and the plethora of DNA found on his side.
My mother’s people are very dark skinned people, with high cheek bones. When you see pictures of ancestors their high cheek bones are dominant — then we mated with someone else and after that, the cheek bones in the next generation are recessive — but high.
Their hair is kinky, but soft and fine and fragile.

My mother’s DNA compilation says alot about me — it points out why I’m a sickle cell carrier (Sub-Saharan Africa)…and it points to why I’m A- (RH-), as well!
The Iberian people are Basque — which are the INDIGENOUS people of Southern Europe. This covers places like Spain, Italy…and France — our slave master had a FRENCH last name.
Then the 2.4% Native American — we are sure we know WHICH ancestor that is!! He was kidnapped off the reservation at the age of 5 and was sold into slavery in Texas. He lived his life with an accent and, when slavery ended, didn’t go home.

They charged less than $100 for this DNA analysis.

Polygyny made the news — apparently it made our DNA better. Here’s a link to a video

Here is the Washington Post article —

Boss wife is a term that was coined in the black polygyny groups on Facebook. It is a derogatory term, typically used to describe a woman, who is a wife (tends to be the first wife), who basically is the head of the household. She is the the Maker of the Rules of Engagement with her husband.
Boss wives are domineering, controlling, and overbearing to pretty much everyone around them.
Boss wives tend to need to be in control of the majority of the courting process. A woman may need to go through the boss wife in order to express the wish to be courted by the family. THEY say whether or not a woman can go on a date with the husband. This is HER husband. You are NOT allowed to do ANYTHING with HER husband without her permission.
She may brow-beat him and any of the other wives that come into the situation. You do things HER way. When you marry into the family, and, say, move into the house with them, you move into HER house. You put your things where SHE says. You do things the way SHE wants you to do them.
Her husband allows these things. He doesn’t argue with her about these things. If she says no to a particular woman as a wife, he won’t openly go against her wishes. No. Instead, he will be weak and either go behind her back to try to get what he wants, or, he will sit there and be miserable, rather than taking her to task and confronting her as to why she does not want this or that person to join the family.
Sometimes a boss wife is blocking wives from coming into her family because she REALLY doesn’t want polygyny; she’s only doing it because it’s what HE wants. She’s just pretending to be down for it, and vetoes almost every name that comes up as an option. All reasons may seem reasonable to the husband, no matter how weak or petty they are.
Often a boss wife’s actions and concerns have absolutely nothing to do with her husband and how he feels and what he wants. She is selfish and is only worried about how SHE feels and what SHE wants.
Being a boss wife is frowned upon. If one is able to successfully join her family, they may have a hard row to hoe if they value having their own ways, their own opinions, their own wants and goals. They will need to be just as strong. Some boss wives  may respect the fact that another woman has come in, and is strong, and will NOT let her have her way on everything(because I think alot of them are oblivious as to how they come off, and I think they’re unaware that maybe — JUST maybe — their opinions and their ways are not how the other woman wants to do their thing). black-women-arguing
Some people like that.
Other boss wives may feel extremely threatened by someone who’s just as strong — and there may be a fight of some sort. She may demand this woman be removed from her kingdom. She may throw a fit, cry and scream. She may physically assault people.
She may pack her things and leave.

Boss wives do better when they are in their own houses, alone and without other wives around. A pseudo-monogamous state is best for them (whether they’ll agree with me or not). Other women should not be subjected to their whims if they don’t want.

Sometimes there’s a little “boss-wife” in every wife — if a woman knows her husband is inept, then maybe it’s good for her to take control of these situations. If she knows he may get hurt somehow in the situation, because truly the other woman is not a good fit. These particular times of “boss-wifery” make sense. What they lack is the selfishness.

So I guess the question is “How much of a boss-wife are you?”
…maybe someone should make a quiz to determine it lol.
(You are 75% boss-wife: Let’s face it, girlie, you’re leaning more toward the bitchy-side than you are toward the sisterly-side! Take a step back and let things relax a little; you’re ALLOWED to not be concerned about whether or not he’s kissed her yet!)

((I crack myself up))

I had something written. Then I deleted it.
I don’t want to talk about that.

And THEN I wrote something ELSE. And deleted that, too.

I’m reading Octavia E. Butler this week. I’ve read quite a few of her books, but I took the kids to the library for the first time in a couple of YEARS a couple of Saturdays ago, and my library actually had her books (if you can believe it — my neighborhood isn’t the best place but it ain’t the worst, either).
I saw Parable of the Talents, but knew in order to read Talents, you gotta read Parable of the Sower, first. So I timidly asked the guy at the counter if they still ordered books from other libraries — he said sure and I gave him the name and they ordered it — in a couple of days they called me and I went and picked it up.
I like it.
I didn’t know it was sooo dystopian. Dystopian-survivalism, I like that genre of everything. Because, to be honest, I don’t see a bright future for America. I see us heading downhill — and I’m sure most of us see it.
So… it piqued my interest.
She didn’t even finish the story. You’ve got Sower, Talents, and she was supposed to do Trickster, but moved over to Fledgling. Boo.
Who will finish it?
Wish I cared enough to take up the torch.
I like to write.
I have books unfinished all over the place. I write fervently, chapters upon chapters, for months on end (or I used to). Then suddenly , I stop. My mind is like “Story dun!” I don’t have anymore.
So no I won’t undertake it. I’d never finish.
But it’s almost black survivalist fiction. Wow. NEEDED. MUCH needed.
I read survivalist fiction and most characters are white Republicans who, as luck would find it, have all the skills they need for surviving the Pockyclips and living on from generation until generation, forever and ever, Amen.
And that’s bull. It’s not going to be THAT perfect and predictable.
There’s more I want to say but I can’t put it into words.
I want to do a video. Because there’s more I Want to say on this subject.
…but people DIE in Butler’s books. Characters that you’ve become fond of, on some level. They die on you. They are killed. They make mistakes and are raped and beaten, murdered and burned, their charred bodies etched in your mind long after you’ve finished the book and wakened back into reality.
And that’s how reality is. People die and are killed. People DONT have everything together and have all that they need to survive.
There’s ALWAYS something more needed.

…and to make this about polygyny, wives are great preps. Groups of adults bound to a family unit work very well together. The more there are, the greater the chance that “The Family” will survive.

AIIGHT AIIGHT I’m done. *pushes keyboard off desk*
Peace, y’all.

I dreamt of my mammaw’s house last night.
It was a green, wood-frame house — the kind of green from the 60s/70s that no one would touch today.
It had a small front porch. No central air, and in south Texas. All windows would be open. When you enter the house, you enter their small livingroom. To the left was the diningroom, with a door that leads to the kitchen. The kitchen would be hot because of all the cooking she’d do. So the door would be closed most of the time in the mornings and in the afternoons. Then there was another door into her and papaw’s bedroom, that was screened in on all sides with a door that led out back. They had the bathroom. Right beside the kitchen door was another door, that led to a guestroom. The guestroom had a door that led right back into the livingroom.
At night she’d give you a chamberpot for the guestroom if you had to go in the night. She was still used to outhouse living — you didn’t go in her room to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. You used the chamberpot.
I never used it at night lol. Forget that.
She would get real butter, and in the mornings she’d set it out on the table, and it would soften while she cooked.
Her eggs were always perfect — light, fluffy, not even seasoned. But good, just like that.
Her toast was toasted on the stove.
My papaw had his chair in front of the tv. NO ONE sat in that chair. He smoked ALOT of cigarettes, and had one of those club-ashtrays with the tall stand right beside his chair. He wasn’t my biological papaw; my blood papaw died before I was born. My mammaw didn’t get divorced; her husbands would grow old and die and she’d remarry. But John was a very good man, and was a good papaw to me. He was a light skinned man, missing teeth here and there, and was much the farmer. He’d be gone most of the day, farming somewhere, then he’d come home. He’d greet me and his country accent was thick but I understood what he was saying. He’d sit and watch tv and did not want to be bothered.
My mammaw, when I’d stay with them alone, would set me on the bed in the guestroom while she did her chores. She’d bring me a box “Would you like to see my pretty earrings?? I have lots of pretty earrings,” she’d say. She’d put the box on the bed and be like “Only problem is, they’re all mixed up! They need to be matched together. Can you do that for mammaw while I go and cook dinner?”
“Yes ma’am,” I’d say, and I’d set about my task, of matching earrings…
She was good at distracting me. lol
She’d show me all her shoes — shoes she’d bought back in the 40s but were still in impeccable condition.
She’d show me all the arrowheads she’d found in their yard. So many!!! And still, hundreds of years after Native Americans lived on that land, *I’d* find them, and we’d add them to the box. She had them in an old lunchbox.
What would irritate me a little was when she’d show me the picture albums of all our family members from everywhere.
The children of her white employers would be in there, among the family members.
She was a cook in a white family’s house on the white side of town, for decades.
She felt like they were family.
I felt like they were NOT.
…they weren’t bad people, I guess. For that time. They still gave her money, even though she no longer worked for them. The gave alot of money for her funeral, when she died. So I guess they weren’t bad.
But still. I didn’t like it; I didn’t understand… and only understand now in the sense that times were different then.
I always thought cucumbers grew from trees and now I understand why I thought that — on the edge of their small property were trees, and the vines had grown up into the trees. So when mammaw would want cucumbers, she’d pick them out the trees, lol. She made pickles.
Their walkway had aloe plants growing. Papaw planted them there.
There was watermelon and pumpkins deep in the back…berries too. I wouldn’t go there, tho.
There was an extra room in the back of the kitchen. Sometimes mammaw would ask me “You wanna see what’s in that backroom?” “Yes ma’am!”
She’d get a key and unlock the door, and all her storage stuff was in there — old dolls, arrowheads, just a bunch of old things. It was hot in there; stuffy. I remember the stale smell of the air. We’d stay in there for a while as she uncovered things, and told me their stories of how they’d found them.
She’d go into Spanish (mammaw and papaw spoke Spanish fluently; all of our very old people did. My blood papaw, he did, too. He DREAMT in Spanish and would speak it in his sleep). She’d stop and say “You know what that means??” “No.” “It means ‘watch out’. Cuidado.” and she’d go on with her story.
They never cursed. My blood papaw would curse in his sleep, in Spanish, as he was fighting some long-ago situation. But they never cursed.
My mammaw was scared of Mexicans. They were boogie men to her, when I knew her. She’d close all the windows in the hot, hot house, telling me “Gotta keep the windows closed — dem Meskins — dey’ll peek in on you!”
Less than 10 minutes’ later, my mother would be on her trail, re-opening all the windows.
It was because once, when my mammaw was hanging curtains in her bedroom, a Mexican man shot her five times through the window.
He was chasing someone down the alleyway, thought the silhouette in the window was the man he was pursuing, and so he shot her.
Her husband was mowing the lawn in the front and heard nothing.
She had to drag herself through the house, and out on the front porch, which is where he saw her…
She survived (obviously). But was always paranoid about Mexicans and her windows after that.
In the winter, they had two heaters. I don’t know how old you are, reading this, or what you know about heaters from back in the day. But these were some DANGEROUS ASS HEATERS…omg… metal, and in the middle, FIRE. They had gas in them obviously but I don’t know how they worked.
They had one in the livingroom and it was enough to heat the entire house.
It caught my mammaw on fire one day. IT DID. Her robe got caught.
She was burned on 60% of her body.
She survived THAT (OBVIOUSLY).
…I don’t know what to say. She survived many things, and outlived 3 husbands.
When she was closer to the end, we’d sit at the diningroom table and I’d have my paper and pen and I’d ask her questions like “Who were your parents? What were their names?? And your sisters and brothers?? And what were THEIR parents’ names??” She’d answer all my questions, she’d give me stories and anecdotes of them — some of them quite unbelievable in my opinion but I’ll trust her that they DID INDEED happen.
She got dementia, and couldn’t live alone anymore. She lived with my auntie for a while, who couldn’t keep her under control (she’d leave, get lost and the police would bring her back), so she ended up at a nursing home, where she had a most undignified death for such a good woman.
They sold her house. Last time I was in that town, I went looking for it, and couldn’t recognize it.
I’m sure the new owners did away with that awful green.
I dreamt of her immediately after her death. My auntie was sobbing. It frustrated mammaw, and she said “Who’s doing all that crying? Who DIED??” I looked over, and said “…You.” And then I woke up.

I miss my grandmother. I miss these people. I miss her house. I miss going there for holidays. I miss it.

Do you know how to be a friend? I mean a REAL friend — not one of these online-only friends, telephone-only friends, skype-only friends. Those relationships are nice and they have their place. But I’m talking about being a friend to those in your physical vicinity. Do you know how to be a REAL, TRUE friend??
For the most part I am EVERYONE’s friend on the internet. Yes! For the most part! If you come to me and you need help with something on the internet, lol, like researching, or finding something — I’m there for you. If you want to just talk about things, vent, exchange ideas and knowledge and information — I’m there for you! Absolutely; I love to learn, let’s learn!
But in real-life relationships…I only have maybe less than 50 people I can call full-fledged friends, and 3 of those are my best-of-the-best-besties that NO ONE has yet to trump as important to my life (note: a sister-wife would trump them. We’re sharing the same man, we’re sharing our days together. So yeah — you’d be more important, co-wifey).
We don’t have a perfect relationship. We get INTO it (OMG) when it’s bad it’s bad, lol. But we ACTIVELY insist on being friends with each other, and have been like that since we met. We are NOT the same — each one of us is her own type of person. But we share the same sense of humor (for the most part) and we have alot of HISTORY together. Lots of remember-whens that connect us to each other.
I talk to these women every day — probably pretty much ALL day, on and off, most of the time. There are times when we’re all busy — we all have families, we have careers, we have lives. I’m Hebrew, one is Christian, the other one is something in between the two with some Islam tossed in and the other one is Christian-lite — lol I don’t think she’s much interested at all in beliefs but she doesn’t NOT believe she’s just indifferent.
So we are friends through our differences and our opinions. We’ll tease each other, we’ll give each other hard advice, we’re there when someone needs to cry (ITS NEVER ME *points at friends* YALL A BUNCH A CRY BABIES lol — no I just get MAD when y’all cry and want to hurt the source of your sadness. I want to beat it to a pulp — how dare that situation make you cry!!! I HATE IT for you!!! I invoke Lil John on your sadness for you lol)
We are our OWN party — if we invite one another to something, we KNOW WE gone have fun, if ain’t nobody else having fun. WE will enjoy one another’s company, each other’s jokes, we’ll do our old-school dance routines together.
We wanna go out and someone like “I don’t have any money” if we REALLLY want them to go people are like “COME! I’ll pay for you don’t worry about it JUST COME!!”
We love each other very much.
Relationships take work but this friendship between us is something effortless. We are just there. When I moved away for 3 or so years, still talked daily via email. I’m the one who DOESNT talk on the phone — they all talk on the phone even tho we text and message each other all damned day. I’m busy I have to have absolutely NOTHING else to tend to for me to want to be on the phone. So they don’t tend to call me and visa versa and IM OKAY WITH THAT. When I call, we talk. When they call, we talk.
We have a few friends outside of our little circle. Those girls are our closest friends — they have THEIR besties and we love THEIR besties, so there’s all these intertwining circles that make up who we are as a group of people. Some people like each other more than others, others don’t like each other in the LEAST — but hey, we will ALL go out together, we will ALL have a blast together, we attend each other’s parties, baby showers, bridal showers, weddings — our kids go to each other’s parties and if we’ve ALL got 3 kids or thereabouts that’s a built in PARTY-extravaganza lol.
We used to have alot of events at our house (our house isn’t big but we have a big-sized backyard for our city, and a large front yard, as well) and there’d be all these kids, all these adults…the men would BBQ, drink beer and smoke (if they smoke) OUTSIDE, and they’d keep an eye on the children who were on our swingset, or in the pool we used to have, or just playing volleyball…and all the women — the MAJORITY of the women — would be inside the house, having a drink, preparing side-dishes to go with the meat, and talking about CRAZINESS, fits of laughter and when a man came in to get something everyone would stop talking and look at him and he’d be like “—I just…came to get the sauce…”
And he’d grab it and back out of the room through the patio door, and we’d ALL bust out laughing.
You need ANYTHING from this net of people — we gotchu, don’t worry. Everybody has some way to assist you in whatever it is — need a job? Someone can find you a job. You need a place to stay, someone will find you a place to stay. You looking for a date? We got someone we can fix you up with, even if it’s just for an event, lol.
I don’t know… I don’t understand other people and this is why — my relationships are already established and here, and no matter WHAT I DO, or what THEY DO, no matter WHAT the madness is — they will TELL YOU YOU WRONG, YES, but they love you through it. You’ll still be friends, if you can take them telling you what you need to hear about you and what you got going on.
Most of them know I’m polygynous-minded. Extended friends will offer up other friends and be like “She need to join y’all’s family” and that person will giggle and be like “Y’all staahp!”
We are TRUE friends. Not perfect, no — people betray and stuff falls apart but you take your time and you put it back together.
We not going anywhere.
But you can’t come into this net of people and be new (SOMETIMES people are new — I’ve made two new friends in the past decade that have been almost completely absorbed into The Circle, lol. You can’t even tell that I MET THEM FIRST, lol.) and then do some fucked up shit. No. That will get you FOR SURE cut off. And EVERYONE will cut you off.
ANYWAAAAAY…I don’t think people really know how to be friends. You have to actively commit to the friendship, you have to prove yourself and over time it will be shown that yes, you and that person are friends.
But that online-friendship — you’re only friends to a certain extent. In comparison to real-life friendships…it’s NOTHING. You have NO real history, nothing tangible.

We have gotten so busy it’s hard for me to put time and effort into much else besides the store and it’s future. My father, who’s lived with us for a couple of years or so, has finally made his move back to San Antonio — for the most part. This is good for our little unit, because my youngest son has grown to depend on his papaw to help him out when he’s upset or when he’s been disobedient or when he’s tired. This will make him a little more independent, which is good.
For me, though, this means more household work — my dad and I both LIKE to do the dishes, and since he’s been there and I’ve been busy, I’ve just allowed him to do it. That freed me up. Also, while I like to cook I can’t cook all the meals anymore because I’m rarely at home. So my dad was cooking — but see, he cooks like a cowboy out on the range — beans, chili, steaks, potatoes. Here’s my dad’s steady cooking ideas —
beans and smoked turkey meat (replacement for that pork taste)
chili beans
chili (because real chili doesn’t have beans)
steak and potatoes
hamburger stew
roast and potatoes
brisket and potatoes
and MAYBE a roasted chicken here and there.
He doesn’t like grilled fish. He wants fried fish and he prefers to do salmon patties.

All of this tastes…really…really good.
But I don’t eat beef to that extent.
And my family likes grilled fish.
So that’s changed. I made salmon and wild rice last night with salad.
Since I’m rarely home tho, it’s going to be hard to cook. But hey — I have a decent-sized crockpot. So we ARE having a roast tonight — with potatoes and mixed vegetables and salad.
I put it on to cook this morning and hopefully, when the husband has time, he’ll be able to stop by there and toss the potatoes in (after 4p) and the vegetables (about 6p) and then when we get there it’ll be readdddyyy and the house’ll smell so gooood…

So — the kids have learned all about the Native Americans and the tribes and how they filled up the American continent and how the Amer-Indians found the Caribbean islands and started jumping from island to island, populating them — and then how the Carib Indians came through and started the hopping on THEIR wave…and they were CANNIBALS…so they came through and pretty much ate all the Amer-Indians and lived in their place…and how, when Europe (Columbus) started coming through, at first they were curious but then they decided “man fuck these people they’re no good, keep them out of here” they would shoot arrows at them and do other warrior things and how PRECISE they were and SUCCESSFUL they were for quite a while, keeping those people off the land. Now we’re moving toward pilgrims and the settling of the colonies and all of that.

We went (don’t mind me, I’m just talking)to Naturally Isis’ Natural Hair Parade & Festival and it was a beautiful event. I crochet-braided my daughter’s hair (it’s great — if you’re my FB friend you can check out the pics) and me and the kids went to the event BASICALLY to fellowship and network and enjoy the day while hubby worked the store.
Some RBG were there and that’s good — I’d been told by a very prominent member of their faction (who I will NOT name because I’m not a name dropper like that) that they for the most part were not going because the last time they went, there were “whites and fags” at the event. Made me a bit sad — black people have to start supporting each other’s things like this. The Natural Hair movement is very important to black people and who we are, just as a group — our hair is not like any other racial group’s hair. It’s different and unique and therefore SPECIAL and it needs to be embraced and lifted up. Everyone needs to represent at these events — all belief systems need to be put aside or — hey — come to the event, purchase a space, and set up and TELL PEOPLE ABOUT YOUR BELIEFS!! There were MOORS there — I RARELY see them around but one of them I knew, him and his beautiful wife (she’s not very friendly but I don’t care if people aren’t friendly — I’m friendly enough for all of us lol) and they walk in, heads held high and he got on that Moorish/Arabic cap that they wear (you know what I’m talking about), and she’s on one arm and the Moorish flag is hanging on his other arm. I know him from business interactions and we were far away — he looked around in my direction while walking and nodded his head — they looking REGAL as ALL GET OUT — DO IT FAM DO IIIIIITTT lol I loved it.
Another Moor, he had his table, he was selling his wares, and had something he called Griot-storytelling popcorn. TASTY!!! Mmm spicy. Loved it.
NOI was there, they were of course selling their newspaper but they were THERE… The RBG that were there, started sparring, showing off their moves, and I was like gone on then, dudes! They are our warrior-class of men and women — young…and preparing. I am proud to see them.
Where were the Christians? While I’m sure many walking around the event were Christians — no church set up shop there… I feel some large church should have had a table there — ESPECIALLY if they feel the Messiah was black, they should have been there, shown their face…Hebrew Israelites needed a booth.
But no, most groups are stand offish on some “I will not work with them” type vibe “these aren’t our people” type NONSENSE “they too pro-black/not pro-black enough for us” type BULLSHIT.
And this makes me mad at black people.
We will NEVER unify to build and grow…if we’re going to be like that all the time.
Oh — and the vegan food — $10 a plate, but there’s a McDonald’s a half-mile away where I can feed two kids with that. And people were HUNGRY — why not set up a booth (booth space = $125) and feed us some $5 plates of food??
People were THIRSTY — two booths with water and one, when they ran out, they went on home.
I’m just saying it was great to see those that DID come out and support — I saw polygynous families that I know out there, I saw local singers that I know, out there — my CUSTOMERS were out there (so many hugs, lol introductions to friends and family). They needed more performers (but you’re not going to get paid — so consider it exposure and if you’re about the PEOPLE, consider it getting your opinion out to the masses).
WE want to get more involved in this next year. We want to help!! So that’s our goal is to be large enough that we can make a difference in our community in the long run. So pray for THAT.
…I’m REALLY tired, tho. Really tired. So busy. Life never stops. It’s got to keep going, keep moving.
I’ll sleep when I’m dead.