Category: Special Events

2025 Year-End Review

I started working on my New Year’s resolution to swim half a mile, then practice straddle splits in the dry sauna about a week into January. I hadn’t planned to change from my milelong swim goal until I was actually in the pool and the goal no longer motivated me. That had been last year’s goal, which I’d achieved, but now that I’d accomplished it, the thrill was gone. I reached the straddle splits goal sooner than I thought and started conditioning to put my leg behind my head AKA Compass Pose.

Along with a new workout goal, of course I added a new activity: axe throwing. This was originally part of a social group outing, but when the host cancelled, I went by myself. Some friends had told me how relaxing the sport was while my capoeira friends congratulated my preparation for when society collapsed. Although I enjoyed the experience, I wouldn’t do it again until months later when my nephew came into town.

For this year’s Galentine’s Day celebration, but I convinced two friends to go indoor skydiving with me. They’d always wanted to try, but had never gotten around to it. Social Organizer Teresa to the rescue! I’d only done it one time before, so they made me go first since I had “more experience.” This time around, I got to soar to the very top on my third trip up. Afterwards, one friend wanted to jump out of a real plane and the other wanted to return the next day. Um, no and perhaps later, as in the following year around the same time.

At the end of March, I finished my six-month online study for my pharmacy tech license. The part I hated the most was cramming facts about 600 medications although I came up with some fun mnemonics: OMG, Al gave Dara herpes. [Generic: imiquimod; Brand: Aldara; Class: Antiviral; Indication: genital herpes]. Cold Chics Cry about gout. [Generic: Colchicine; Brand: Colcrys; Class: Anti-gout; Indication: Gout].

All that studying and rote memorization paid off in the beginning of April when I passed the pharmacy tech exam with 95%. A few weeks later, we celebrated all the April birthdays: my father, sister, nephew and niece.

In May, I secured a new position at work as a training assistant. Once a teacher, always a teacher. Then for Mother’s Day, I treated Mom and my sister, who’s also a mother, to brunch. We strolled around the block for a wine tasting afterwards.

I started off June with a weekend visit to our timeshare at Myrtle Beach. My parents have had that timeshare for nearly 30 years. They finally ended the contract; so I’m glad I got to chill there one last time.

I absolutely loved this year’s Strange family reunion at the end of June. Not only did I interview 21 relatives, resulting in the best (and longest) episode of the “Strange Family Folklore” podcast to date, but we finally included one of my favorite pastimes, dressing up. Our theme was to dress as your favorite decade. My 60s costume transformed me radically since I wore an Afro wig. Relatives who’d known me all my life, didn’t recognize me.

In July, I took a phenomenal two-week vacation in Ghana, prompting me to work on an 18-week writing project spread over 16 blog posts about the experience. This was the first time I’d written a series since starting my weekly blog in 2011. https://www.mathdreads.com/?cat=42

Continuing my pole fitness journey, I started taking a choreography flow class, then spin pole in August. After finally learning to engage my shoulders, I upped my game by taking two pole classes a week: spin and intro to inverts. At this rate, perhaps I’ll stop looking as if I’m undergoing a military drill and start looking as if I’m actually dancing. After all, pole class is just as strenuous as when I trained for capoeira.

During my birthday celebration, I invited my yoga teacher to “throw 5s,” representing my 55th year on this planet.

Afterwards, my family feasted on takeout, mainly because I wanted those tasty biscuits. Absolutely delicious although the restaurant surprised us with three styles of potatoes: mashed, fried and baked.

Of course I paired the meal with a glass of cabernet just before jetting off to my glorious 90-min full body massage.

I invited the massage therapist to “throw 5s” prior to the massage.

Never one to miss an opportunity to dress up, I used half of an Ahsoka costume to attend a Renaissance Faire fundraiser. Proceeds went toward a tiny home for an adult on the autism spectrum, so he could live independently.

Once again, we attended the Southeastern Regional Poetry Slam. At a smaller venue, but still packed the place with 11 powerful performances. The energy was through the roof. Almost made me wish I was still producing my own theme-inspired spoken word and storytelling show.

If I’d actually feared a long line on the last day of early voting for the primary, I didn’t have to worry or adjust my plans too much. I strongly believe in doing my civic duty prior to the collapse of civilization.

Oktoberfest turned out to be quieter than expected, but at least the food and cider were good.

I’ve never been a big fan of beer, but this selection intrigued me. We all sampled them a weekend at a time.

Not more than 100 yards away from “Oktoberfest” was another outdoor event with even more food options.

Not a moment too soon, Halloween season officially began with my first costume, Foxy Brown, at the Pole-O-Ween event.

For the first time ever, I attended downtown Fayetteville’s Zombie Walk. My sister and I had the right idea: put our names on the waitlist for our favorite Italian restaurant, then stroll to check out all the other costumes.

Since Halloween fell on a Friday this year, I ended the week with a partial zombie costume for my virtual training group. Only two of my trainees wore a head decoration, but everyone raised at least a RAWR claw.

Never impressed with all the Christmas decorations after Halloween, we made the best of the backdrop for our group yoga and wine picture.

Speaking of wine, I was in no mood to prepare a side dish for Thanksgiving. Instead, I prepped my jacket with a half bottle of red and my infamous silver chalice.

Like a bad cliche, the day after Thanksgiving, while everyone else celebrated Black Friday, we were among the unfortunate observers of Brown Friday. The half bathroom in the lower part of the house, near the laundry room and my bedroom, flooded. In exploring the plumbing problem, they discovered an asbestos problem. I was like the woman in the bubble, having to unzip and zip up two temporary plastic doors to go to and from my bedroom. The silver linings: 1) getting my steps and squats in, coming and going to my bedroom; 2) the peacefulness of the nearby laundromat; and 3) still finding occasions to play dress up!

First dress-up occasion: watching a live performance where dancers dressed up as characters from popular children’s stories. One of my friends danced as the Cheshire Cat.

For the second costume opportunity, I dressed as the only Black Who from Whoville at a Christmas-themed dance performance. Always a good time, especially with my “fancy” wine jacket. In other words, I stuffed my small wine bottle and chalice into the pockets of a faux fur coat.

No Christmas season would be complete without our annual Strange Family Reunion Virtual Christmas party, where, once again, I brought home the gold!

Finally, two days after Christmas on Saturday, or on Day Two of Kwanzaa, Kujichagulia (Self-Determination), all the family gathered together in the living room to watch a short film, Abundance Blessings, that I’d gifted to the family. I’d sworn off giving materialistic gifts back in 2022 and have focused on family events instead.

Grilled Cheese Festival

I’d never been to a Grilled Cheese Festival before, but the name alone evoked fond childhood memories. However, we coupled the experience with ciders.

I don’t remember what charity the event raised money for, but people were definitely generous, sharing extra food tokens with us as we arrived. We even saw other friends who’d arrived hours earlier and joined them in line for our first sample.

The friend who I’d come with immediately vetoed the grilled salmon and cheese quesadilla. Her palate didn’t include fish with cheese. Since I was starving at that point, I wolfed it down, not caring about the combination nor the fact that it wasn’t quite a “grilled cheese sandwich.” I later learned that that food truck had run out of bread since they hadn’t factored in other food trucks not showing up. Apparently, there were supposed to be anywhere from six to nine different food trucks providing some version of grilled cheese, but only three had showed up.

Next sample was the ol’ school grilled cheese served up from a renovated bus. Everything about it was absolutely delicious. Even my friend, who was far more particular about food than I was, enjoyed it and returned for seconds.

The first place winner, according to my palate, was the grilled brisket and cheese. Fortunately, I sampled the sandwiches in the order of increasing deliciousness.

The weather cooperated with the outdoor event until the sun went down. The temperature dropped way too low for my comfort, especially since I hadn’t worn a jacket. In all aspects of my life, I pack light and live uncluttered.

I joked with three other friends, who included checking out guys along with their pursuit of grilled cheese and drinking, why they couldn’t flirt with men who worked at the venue who could have turned on the heat lamps. I wanted to stay long enough to hear the band, but in the end, the plunging temperature motivated us to leave.

I’d stopped eating bread on a regular basis a few years ago. Although that event was an edible indulgence, I definitely planned to resume making bread scarce in my diet once again.

2025 Family Reunion: Quilting Narratives

For our 84th consecutive Strange Family Reunion, we had some brand-new activities along with improvements on classic activities, making this year’s gathering fresh for everyone.

One of our continuing traditions was the flag display. The Ghanaian flag represented part of the story of where our family DNA came from. As a matter of fact, that was one of the reasons nine of us visited Ghana for two weeks.

In recent years, we have incorporated a reunion theme.

This year’s reunion theme was the 70s and Soul Train.

On Friday, along with our usual fish fry, one of my cousins had invited her line-dancing group to perform. Her purpose was twofold: entertainment and education. She shared that her line-dancing class was a wonderful way to stay in shape and socialize. Another dancer was a member of the medical field and told us some facts about the link between exercise and good health.

One of the needles we thread at our reunions is hosting a variety of activities for different age groups, especially for younger relatives and the young at heart. There was a field day (balloon toss, basketball, volleyball, cornhole, dodgeball) for the kids on Saturday morning while I interviewed 21 Jesse Strange descendants for my podcast, Strange Family Folklore.

Additionally, another cousin, an accomplished quilter whose works have been a part of several exhibitions, arranged a one-day popup exhibition.

Her quilts depict African American subject matter along with more personalized family quilts. Below are two examples where her siblings and their children decorated a square to represent themselves.

Even the fabric that served as the base for the quilting squares, reminds the African diaspora of our roots.

My cousin provided the family an opportunity to create our own representative squares, which will eventually be made into a quilt. My square depicts my childhood nickname, “Tweety Bird,” and my dreads.

Another continuing tradition was the hayride, which occurred multiple times on Friday and Saturday. This year’s route had been expanded to include the Strange cemetery.

I had not visited since that rainy day when we buried my Uncle Floyd in 2023. (Please click on individual pictures to see the full view, then click on the browser back arrow to return to blog view.)

For the first time ever, the Strange family reunion rented a nearby venue to host our Saturday evening catered dinner and entertainment. The organizers encouraged everyone to dress up as their favorite decade.

Never one to pass up on a chance to dress in costume, all I needed to complete my look was a larger-than-life Afro wig. I already owned the bellydancing pants and top. Majority of my relatives who’d known me all their lives, didn’t recognize me initially.

On Sunday, our very own ordained members of the cloth presided over church under the Strange shelter.

For me, the most intriguing thing my cousin said during her sermon was: “There’s no piece of dirt that is any better than another piece of dirt. We’ve all come from the dirt and to the dirt we will return.”

That resonated with me. The only thing that has ever stopped me from achieving something was the lack of time devoted to the endeavor. Not the lack of money or talent.

The real challenge: how will we spend our limited time from dirt creation to dirt reunification? If that seems too big a question, then scale it back to this: what can be done between now and the next family reunion? Stay tuned.

Even Tastier

The first time I attended a pole-dancing competition, I was brand new to the sport. I couldn’t analyze many of the moves, but the most impressive thing I witnessed was different body types poling very well. Up until that point, I had lied to myself about losing around 20 pounds in order to do certain pole tricks. Afterwards, I realized that I only needed consistent practice, not drastic weight loss.

The same friend who’d driven me there the first time, drove again. We missed the 10 AM performance of another student from our studio, but we eventually saw our former teacher much later in the evening.

We located three other teachers from our studio, sitting in the third row. One of them informed us that the event was running an hour and a half late. Judges had difficulty submitting their evaluations electronically. The time in between performances lagged by several minutes. At one point, when only about five minutes had passed between competitors, we cheered.

Although this event occurred on the second official day of summer, that was the beginning of the heatwave. The facility jacked up the AC. Granted, competitors needed the cool temperature so the poles wouldn’t become slimy even after volunteers had cleaned them in between performances. Of course, I forgot to bring a sweater or wrap.

We dashed out to eat. Shivering had worked up an appetite. I practically inhaled my coconut lamb curry with buttered naan and mango lassi. The warm (both physical and figurative) ambiance made the food even tastier.

Once we returned to the pole competition, a woman who had a red toy car fit for a toddler on stage, was in the middle of her performance. Not only was her performance infused with humor, pole tricks and storytelling, but we later learned that the 62-year-old had practiced her routine for a year. She was elated that her four-minute routine had not left her out of breath. She definitely deserved that first place award.

The next performer was a much younger man of color. Earlier, when we were checking in to get our wristband, I’d complimented his fabulous Afro. He performed a sensuous routine to a slow 70s song. Although he’d strutted on stage in a black, flowing, feather-trimmed robe, once he threw that to the ground, his pole attire was the stuff of male dancer fantasies.

We left after our former pole teacher performed, vowing to make our attendance to the yearly competition an annual celebration. Also, I have taken away different inspirations each time I’ve attended.

Mom’s Great Grand Kittens

Two years ago, a feral cat birthed a litter of kittens under the tarp that covered our hibachi grill. In that litter were a white cat and a black cat who may be the parents of the latest patio brood.

We did not tag nor DNA-test the felines, but they definitely roamed around with their offspring as if showing off their babies to Mom.

My childhood pet was a dog. No one in my family had been a cat person. As an adult, I developed an allergic reaction to cats. Yet, we delight in seeing them.

The former science teacher in me wonders what other critters their presence keeps away. Although raccoons tend to be larger and more aggressive, these feral cats have the agility advantage and perhaps the numbers as adults. I’d love to think that our patio cats are keep predators away.

We don’t feed the cats nor do they knock over the trash bin for food. Whatever they do for sustenance, we don’t contribute to, but they lodge on the patio furniture and under Dad’s wheelchair accessible van.

Now that there are no children to enjoy the big backyard, I’m happy that some harmless lifeform makes good use of it.

Mid-Week Art Night

I convinced my sister to go to an artists’ night with me. From the time we entered, she was the star of the show.

Last year, she was ordained as a deacon. Born with a generous spirit, my sister usually attracts people. Before she’d warmed the throne, another woman gravitated toward her. As many things as my sister’s involved in, I thought she knew her.

Turned out, the woman was one of a handful of artists who’d set up a table for the evening. We came upon her table as we circulated around the small space that was efficiently packed with different artists.

My sister bought from two artists and networked with the others, especially the guy who had had several strokes, along with his wife. That married couple created a rehab box of tools for stroke survivors. My sister took his contact information to connect him to someone else in her growing network.

Although I was only there to check out the weekly event and possibly buy a leather fanny pack, I loved the shrug. One of my nieces had taken up knitting during COVID, a hobby that she’s continued. I’ve seen her blankets, sweaters and scarves. A shrug might be an exciting new knitting avenue for her.

Without my sister there, I would have left the event in under 15 minutes. Not only did she take the time to browse, purchase and network, but she helped me not focus on the very loud music that would have pushed me out the door even sooner.

Years from now, when I finish my illustrated book, that cozy creative venue is a place where I’d like to read and hawk my latest book. I hope they don’t go out of business or civilization doesn’t collapse prior to that.

2025 Dogwood Festival Dance Lessons

This year, I overcame the inertia of reclining in the den, binge-watching TV while working on creative projects on a Sunday and actually partook of a beautiful Sunday downtown event.

I met my sister and her son at an African restaurant near the car show, shared a funnel cake, watched some local actors who performed wrestling, followed by some dance performances, two of which included a mini lesson.

By far, the most enjoyable event for me, was witnessing my nephew take these lessons. He’s the guy who looks like a dancing black bear, wearing a cap:

Birthdays & Easter Eggs

Easter 2025 fell on 4-20, the code in cannabis culture for smoking marijuana, and not, as urban folklore tells it, the police code for marijuana. (That code varies among police departments.)

In my family, we have four April birthdays: Dad, a sister, a nephew and a niece. On top of that, there are two among my sister’s in-laws, twin brothers. Then, her sister-in-law’s sister-in-law’s birthday was the Saturday we all met up at a Mexican seafood restaurant.

We’d eaten there once before. So, my sister and I had looked forward to their punchbowl margaritas. She’d arrived first and ordered a strawberry margarita, but didn’t bother to read the description.

As soon as we walked in, she told me to sit beside her to help her with that extra large punchbowl-sized drink. I told her that it was “pool-sized.” I sipped it. Mom had to stand up to sip it. Yet, I had my mouth set for the spicy mango margarita, garnished with a chamoy-laden straw.

Dad, who loves going out, but usually becomes grumpy having to wait for his food, didn’t grumble at all. This was a rare picture where I captured Dad both smiling and looking at the camera. In contrast to Dad either wearing a goofy expression or looking in another direction.

I had all my birthday family members to pose before the entrees hit the table.

Speaking of hitting the table, once my drink arrived, my newfound fleeting hobby was nibbling all the chamoy off the straw.

My other sister, who’d arranged the event, arrived last because she stopped off to buy helium balloons to tie on the chair of the April birthday people.

The restaurant gave all the birthday people three mini churros. We also enjoyed Dad’s pineapple coconut cake that Mom made for him at home. Unlike our comical efforts to sing “Happy Birthday” at the restaurant, we got our act together for this rendition:

On Easter Sunday morning, I attended a 10 AM “Feel Good” yoga class, which was unheated and slower-moving than my usual “Sunday Funday” hot yoga class. When I checked in, the receptionist told me that there were plastic eggs hidden in plain sight.

Although I saw two on my way to class, I only took one, which I saved in my bag for after class. Since I attended the last class of the day, I collected two more eggs because the previous class hadn’t found them all. Not only did all three eggs contain a piece of chocolate, but two out of three had an offer: a free T-shirt and a free class for me and a friend.

I leave for yoga before my parents leave for church, so I didn’t see them in their Easter Sunday best until Mom called me to come outside to help with Dad. We paused for the cause for the Easter poster couple.

On the Monday following Easter, we learned that Pope Francis had passed. Although we’re not Catholic, it’s always a somber day when a spiritual leader passes. May he rest in peace.

Reasons to Celebrate

After six months of studying, I FINALLY passed my national exam. I’m officially a Certified Pharmacy Technician. Next time I log into work, I’m adding that “CPhT” to the end of my name. I don’t have my score yet, but it doesn’t matter in the long run since I passed.

I was elated to see that instant confirmation that my six months of hard work, including cramming most of the details of 600 medications had paid off. Honestly, they could’ve had far more math questions since that was my strong suit.

Especially since that exam had the nerve to throw in ANOTHER drug other than the 600 I’d studied. My only saving graces for that question were that I knew what the other three meds did and the mystery drug had the correct suffix for the drug class needed.

Nonetheless, I skipped off, driving to the other side of town to splurge on an early dinner. I’d always wanted to check out a new Korean BBQ place and ended up getting a hot pot since I dined alone. Even though it was a bit pricey, I justified the expenditure by making it part of my celebration itinerary.

For Friday, the celebration was merely not having to study before and after work nor on my breaks. What a luxury! Of course, I had to stop myself from plunging into some other time-consuming activity. Yet, there are at least two projects that I had put on the back burner until I finished my coursework. I may revive one of them on Sunday. After a mani-pedi.

On Saturday, I attended an R&B festival with my sister and a friend. Mother Nature cooperated and we enjoyed five hours of breathing fresh air, talking, people-watching and taking advantage of the food truck libations.

I avoided all the barbecue since my sister had already made preparations to barbecue ribs and sausage. She makes the best in town, coupled with Mom’s potato salad.

Instead, I got an order of pork shoulder with yellow rice and beans, but what really set the whole meal off were the tostones (fried savory plantains). Instead of being a half-dollar sized, the biggest one stood up at one end of the to-go boat like a tombstone. Originally, I had wondered why they didn’t cover the food, but as I walked back to my seat, I became a walking advertisement for that Puerto Rican vendor, which boasted being the 2023 best food truck of the year.

At the start of my coursework, I’d stated that a new phone and earbuds would be my reward for successfully passing the national exam. With all the tariff bullshit, I think it’s going to cost me even more than before, but I’m determined to have something better than what I have now since I want to take spectacular pictures for my upcoming trip to Ghana.

That has to be the motto during this administration: keep moving forward with bouts of relaxation.

Back to Bragg

Just like that…Bragg is back. But not the old Bragg. The new Bragg. Reminds me of when Coca-Cola changed its formula. But Coke fans liked the old taste better; so, they had to re-introduce the old formula, replacing the “new” formula, but, chronologically speaking, the newest, even though it was the oldest formula, ie, “classic.”

If that seemed convoluted, then I’ve done my job as a writer. After all, this is what politics has become in the States. From one administration to the next, the tearing down or reversing of the previous administration’s doings. In the end, one has to wonder what does it matter.

In the beginning, Ft. Bragg, the largest, fiercest Army base in the U.S., dare I say “the world,” had been officially named after a confederate, slave-owning general. Then, for a hot second, it became Ft. Liberty, naming the base after one of United States’ so-called values.

Now, renamed “Ft. Bragg,” after a soldier who earned medals, actually fighting for freedom, not slavery, which may, down the road, be just the compromise our country deserves. Other bases can follow suit. Just find someone with the same surname who fought/served for the U.S. and rededicate the military base for them instead.

Somehow, I don’t think the trend will catch on. At this point, I’m not even sure if our legacy of democracy will continue. Much less, naming ceremonies.

Nonetheless, many who proudly trained at Ft. Bragg were very happy to have the name restored since it’s a famous military base.

Years ago, I sat in a local movie theatre, watching a new action-movie release with that up-and-coming action star, Bruce Willis, in “Die Hard.” At one point in the movie, Willis’ character famously said that they’d need half of Ft. Bragg. The theatre erupted in cheers. It wasn’t merely the GIs doing all the cheering. Proud to get a shout out in the latest hit movie.

Hopefully, this settles everything. Every time there’s a name change, millions of dollars is spent for the change over of signage alone. The U.S. will need that money in the long run to pay for all the damages D.O.G.E. has wrongfully inflicted upon the American people.