Blogtober #11: Sundays.

Sundays were my favorite growing up. Comics. Some of you out there remember newspapers. I still love them. When I was a wee Square Peg, my pops would buy the giant Sunday version of The Washington Post, which meant a voluminous comics section, which meant a color comics section, at that (the weekday comics were …

The Watched Pot.

Never boils. Specifically: A watched pot never boils. Time moves slowly when you're waiting or watching for something to happen. I've been thinking about those words this week, specifically because my mother said them to me on the phone. During our conversation a few days ago, I hinted at one of the major Worries for a …

be our guest.

There we all are, sitting in our living room in our old house in Ghana, surrounded by endless laughter and fascinating conversations. My parents are there; also uncles, aunts, various relatives, and longtime family friends that might as well be kin to us, being that I've known them and have been around them for as …

Black Panther. So. Lit.

You already know how I feel about Mr. Boseman. Anywho, as you also may know (please, please know this; like, I enjoy under-the-rock living, too, but you need to know this), Black Panther, the next movie in the Marvel Universe, is set to open this coming Friday. Saying I can't wait is certainly an understatement. We …

💯

If you've been here for a while or recently stopped by to take a look at my little corner of the Internet, you know that I am Ghana-born, partially Ghana-raised, birthed by a Ghanaian woman and man, product of Ghanaian ancestry. Honestly, I've never wondered if there was anything else in my blood. I just …

The Seamstress.

I'm spoiled rotten. I am. You see, whenever I see photos of lovely dresses and skirts and outfits, particularly with African fashion, I just head over to my mom's room, bat my medium-sized eyelashes (why do boys get long eyelashes? Can someone explain this to me?), and sweetly ask if she can recreate the look. After …

A Conversation.

December: So you're really killing 'em, huh? 16 degrees?  January: Please. After that 75 degree mumbo jumbo you were pulling, I had to remind those chumps that we're in winter. December: Sheesh. Calm down. January: Don't tell me to calm down. You had people wearing shorts in wintertime. Shorts! I mean, are you kidding me? …