“scHAIRY” stories 💀💀👀😱

Every woman’s hairMARE! A bobby pin missing the soft plastic ball coverings at the tips!!!!!!

When forced to use one, because options are non-existent…one’s eyes water, as they manage to stab the heck out of their scalp to the skull, while putting the pin in place.🔪🔪🔪

They are useless then, (aside from crafting with). I am always scavenging my floor, closets, for bobby pins. I lose them as quickly as I buy them…or…the tips lose their protective coverings. I search for BP’s like a person searches for loose change under a couch cushion.

And then, I see one! THEE, excitement…

7 steps from me, next to lego pieces and an annoying trail of “Goldfish crackers” with their heads bitten off. As I get a little closer, my excitement begins to die down.

A malfunctioning bobby pin!?

Ah! Yes! Humidity. The Buckeye state is a humid place during the Summer, which for many of us curly girls, that means our hair doubles in size. 😀 I remember in High School, when I was not yet confident of my curly hair, and did not know how to manage it yet, but trying to gain courage, I was walking through the hall with my big hair *free. A kid from a classroom yelled to me;

“You look like LION!!”

It was so horrifying😱.

Me. EVERYday! 😀

Bobby pins stalk my life, then tease me, then leave me. Then I’m at the store a month later buying 100 more. We have an unhealthy relationship.

I had to learn to “love me” before I could love my hair. I still have days where my hair has a mind of its own. Like it’s……ALIVE!

Sometimes, when things like pens and pencils go missing, I feel around my head, [true story]….my hair has become a holding area for “missing things”. The pens and pencils are usually used to hold my hair in buns……😄

If I’m sweating….straightened hair is DONE! It curls right back up. I have spent 2 hours straightening my hair, and then I’m fanning myself because the heat of the bathroom and the straightener combined, is trouble, only for THIS to happen, after all of that work…

Someone once asked me: “Your hair is so pretty. How do you get it like that?”

Me: I just shake my head in the morning.

<<<LAUGHTER>>> Everyone just laughs at my statement.

Me: [trying to figure out, what’s so funny] and then sliding into confused laughter.😂😕

If my son is not scared straight from tiny rolling balls of random hair, at least once a week…..then there is a monthly scare.


Me, turning around in shock to look…and noticing…Nah! It was just a ball of hair that rolled as the wind of his body made it move, when he walked past. Poor guy. LOLOLOLOL!😂😂😂😂😂😂

Me: <<<Cracking up!!!!!>>>😂😂😂


Every day, there is a hair moment. Either a good one or a scary one there is no in between. As I’m getting older, my hair has decided that it loves the color red, instead of gray. (Thanks Grandmom❤) And big hair and “curls” are just so much a part of my personality, that I don’t know what I would do with any other type of hair.

Appreciate what God gave you; bone straight, frizzy, course, thick, thin, big, small, wavy, curly, long, short and those whom have lost their hair, this is your category also😘….. He loves your look.💓

Random…personal stuff….that I just feel like sharing

I’ve been clearing my phone off, getting it ready for this tropical family vacay….where I plan on indulging in bottomless cups of authentic Cuban coffee, taking a million pics of palm trees and iguanas, while my son and his Papi enjoy the sea and fishing. Just the thought….as I watch these leaves change colors…ALREADY….excites me!

I ran into some jewels on my phone…

Country. 💛

I would never survive a horror film. I’m that character that needs to enjoy strange surroundings.

I had to get out and enjoy all of, THIS!❤

Outside of my state, wondering why OUR stores don’t have random reading nooks in the middle of shopping for groceries…..

The book I bought while loving that nook!❤

Even my coffee was happy!😁


Ana’Pau (Grandfather)

¡¡¡¡¡¡Mi Cubanito!!!!!!😍😍😍😍😍

Love the park!❤

“Crabzilla”…..had to have his own crown. 👑


I STAY stocked up on Bustelo and Pilon. Maxwell House and Foldgers have nothing on these brands.☕

They own the street. They know it.




My son is so “matter of fact” about skin color. Where others need for every human to be politically correct…he is quite accurate in his descriptions. The only thing is, his accuracy is a hard pill to swallow in a society driven by diaspora and the juvenile arguments about melanin.

This is him, when describing someone…

“Do you remember that man today? His skin color was peach mixed with a little bit of white?”

My response: “Hm.”

“That woman…her skin was the color of chocolate and kind of like coffee..”

I always want to laugh, because I think he’s a genius, but because he is absolutely serious…he will think I’m laughing, AT him, so I hold it in.

He describes skin color like the menagerie of colors in a pointillism painting, or, according to what colors he uses, to color people, in his Crayola Crayons.

We have finally reached that place in life, where he notices his differences…in terms of culture.

“What did you eat for breakfast, Jeh?” Him:

“Tortilla, beans, egg, mango and hot tea.”

Either people think it’s completely delicious, or utterly disgusting. BEANS for breakfast? Yes!!!😃 He has a unique upbringing. Growing up, we never ran out of rice, and tortillas were like “Wonder Bread” in my family. When I became an adult, I began making them from scratch.

Who were these black people, that ate “Latin” food, mixed up looking….can’t tell if Mom or Dad are black and white, have a unique way of speaking? We were/are the people that always check “OTHER” in the {“WHAT IS YOUR RACE AND ETHNICITY?”} boxes.

Then there is that *special section that singles out all Latin/Hispanic cultures, and I get paranoid when having to fill stuff out for my son.

“Why is this section separated?”

“Why didn’t they put it with the Asians, Alaskans and Africans.?”

“Are you guys collecting special data on Latinos?” I take at least 2-5 minutes on that section, debating if whether or not I should fill it out.😂…..seriously 😐.

I was raised up in Mojave Native and African American culture. My son is being raised up in Cuban culture, African American culture, and he is learning about his Native roots. We completely bypassed being “bi-racial” and went straight to “tri-racial”….and “OTHER”.

I was never forced to choose one over the other, but was always taught to appreciate my blood. My son sees color…and I want him to. I want him to appreciate diversity in all pigments and melanin. I never want him to be scared out of seeing the darkest shade of black, and describing how black that black is…..or the whitest shade of white and describing how white, that white is. That makes him so unique. He is the finest shade of tan….a mixture of his White Cuban Father and his Black African Am./Native Am. Mother. He will never have to choose either or…out loud, but on paper, he will always have that option of choosing…..”OTHER”

My Grandparents

“Mojave Bird Singers”…I think another tribe as well. (Pic. Credit fort mojave Indian Tribe)

Mojave couple