Let's just get into it. When I was 15 years old, I was washing dishes in my 10th grade Home Economics class one day. Since I was barely passable during the cooking part, but bomb when it came to suds and plates, I was very comfortable at the sink. A boy in my class, Mario, …
Fabu Fashion Monday: A Little Night Music.
Last weekend, my friend and I headed up to NYC to catch a concert by Damien Escobar, a violinist I discovered a few months ago. It was a nice chance to get out of town, even for a quick weekend. Digressing: have I discussed my love/hate relationship with the city? It's a fantastic place for the arts, …
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how dare you guess my actual age?
Thanks to the African juices/genetics (thanks, Daddy and Ma), I have somewhat youthful features. When I was a teenager, I looked younger. When I was in my mid-20s, a woman at a hair salon once asked me if I was excited about Homecoming. Her shock when I explained that I was 26 years old--and not 15, …
Meanwhile, in Paris: To All the Crêpes I’ve Loved Before…
...bow before your benevolent mistress. It was inevitable that I, a faithful lover of crêpes since my aunt introduced me to them when I was about six years old, would enjoy one of my favorite desserts in the country of its birth. I ate it in seconds, pausing only for one of my girls to snap …
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#dreamgoals
This song came up on my shuffle last night while plugging away at the gym, and I was immediately reminded about why it spoke to me so deeply when I first heard it. Ah, this song. Not only that haunting melody and those vocals (those vocals, though), but the lyrics. Are the truth. Are my …
Summertime Essentials. (?!)
As expected, the drizzly/rainy/cloudy/depressing 50-degree days of just last week quickly turned into 80-plus degree days in the big city. Our very sad spring went right into cheerful mid-summer. Out came the cute dresses on ladies, the sandals, the much-needed pedicures for toes that appeared to have been trapped in coal mines and were used …
Throwback Thursday: The Scowler.
Meet your Square Peg, a.k.a., me. I found this photo in my mom's "secret" stash of photos one evening last week. I should tell you that my mother's things--her clothes, perfume, shoes, etc.,--have long fascinated me, which means that since I was little girl, sneaking into her room to see what I could find and …
i was cryin’ when i met you…
Look, I'm going to say it: This Square Peg sheds more tears in a day than your average baby. While this troubled me in the past, primarily because I was rarely a crier, I now fully accept the soggy fact that I weep at the drop of a dime. Hardly an exaggeration--I'm sure I've watched many dimes …
Zones.
It's called a comfort zone for a reason: it's comfortable. My mom occasionally tells me the following: as a child, she would sit me in a spot and I would obediently stay there. Not fidgeting, not itching to move--glued to where I was placed and never giving cause to worry that I would disappear (unlike my …
The One and Done.
Other than drinking copious amounts of champagne while watching the Academy Awards when I was 16 years old (how nerds "turn up"; we all make mistakes), This Square Peg can't make it beyond one drink. I was reminded of this during the weekend, when a friend offered me wine at a cookout. After a few, tiny …
This Square Peg. 