You Know I Love My Baby

To say I've been obsessed with this song on and off for nearly 20 years would be an understatement. I still don't think I have the vocabulary to describe what it does to me.  I'll just be going about my day and all of a sudden--no, f'real--need to hear it. 


Nana likes brandy/especially peach/She keeps it by the radio/and listens to the reverend preach...

I kind of want to write a paper about that line alone.   It speaks eloquently and perfectly about the oxymoron of a ghetto heaven.

Video Soul used to play this video.  Oh how I miss those days of nuanced blackness.

This Woman's Work: The Quest for Smurf-Berry Crunch

I think I'm starting to feel like a Baby Boomer.  On Thanksgiving Day, N and I were chatting about cereal and our favorites as kids.  Though she's one of five kids, somehow she got her own box of cereal.  I had 2 sisters, a brother, and an occasional cousin to contend with for television remote control dominance, but wasn't so lucky.  My folks were ballin' on a budget, so we got economy-sized boxes of Frosted Flakes and Crispix--it'll be a cold day before I eat one of those cereals again.  (Since the statute of limitations has already passed, remind me to tell you about the times David, Janelle, and I would sit in the car for what seemed like hours while my parents shopped in Sam's Club.  It would explain a lot about my ability to entertain myself for long periods of time with little to no aides.  But that's another blog.)