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Category Archives: Memoirs

Pointing Fingers

“A wise man once said that every time you point a finger to accuse someone else, your other four fingers are pointing right back at you…”

A friend of mine called me one day out of the blues that she had just lost her pregnancy and I experienced a rainbow mix of unexpected emotions. I was shocked and confused because I had seen her almost every day prior to that and had no clue that she was preggers. I felt sad and heartbroken because she had lost something she had wanted for so long. I felt hurt and betrayed because she hadn’t trusted me enough to confide in me till she needed a shoulder to cry on. For the time being I put my feelings aside and was there for her. I was everything she needed me to be.

It didn’t take too long however, to realise she wasn’t the only one that needed comforting. I called my mom to unburden my chest and she told me it was usual for some friends not to tell each other sensitive stuff like this because of our culture and the ‘you don’t know who is really happy for you’ mentality and that maybe the couple had reasons for keeping it in and I shouldn’t let it affect me. But it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. All my other friends had told me the news as soon as they peed on the stick and this friend had shed tears more than once that some other friend of hers had excluded her from the baby announcement and since some of her inner circle knew about it, I felt I had been deliberately excluded.

So I called up one of my oldest friends to whine about it and as I was going on and on about the seeming betrayal, I let it slip that all that time I had confided in this friend about the procedure I had done, and she had never once felt the need to trade her own secret and voila, the next instance something unexpected happened. My dear friend cut me short and asked when I had the procedure done. I told her and as it dawned on me that I had goofed, I felt the embarrasment creep up my neck. I had kept the details from my friend even though she had initially suggested it and asked me about it once or twice. I hastily replied that I wanted to be sure the procedure had worked and was waiting for the right time to break the ‘good’ news which unfortunately never came. I tried to convince her that I hadn’t excluded her for any negative reason and that it was just more convenient to tell my other friend because she was going through the same issues that I was. Right then it occured to me that I had been feeling hurt and betrayed when I had done exactly the same thing to my other friend!

So many friendships have had bad blood mar them because one friend hid a new man, new job, a pregnancy, an engagement, a wedding announcement, a party, a promotion, a hangout or some other opportunity or good news from the other friend. We have done this to protect their feelings, prevent jealousy or bad blood, protect our good news from frenemies (and village people) or just to keep our matters private but most times we inadvertently hurt someone who has only good intentions towards us. The worst part is that the friend doesn’t know which of the above reasons you had for excluding her and many times emotions make people assume the worst.

So how do you control the dissemination of your private affairs without sacrificing a good friend on the altar of secrecy? Here are 3 points to note. This points don’t apply if you deliberately excluded the person for any reason.

1. Be consistent. Let your friend know exactly what place she occupies in your life. Every person has different circles of friends. If you have 2 best friends, don’t tell one and leave the other out unless it is a known fact that you are closer to one of them. If you tell only your inner circle a secret, a friend in the outer circle won’t feel excluded unless you have given her reason to believe that she was part of your inner circle.

2. Be sensitive. Don’t assume that your friend understands why she wasn’t included. Take out time to explain to her and to gently tackle how she may be feeling. Invest more time, attention and love into the relationship so that you restore the balance that was there before the big reveal and so that she is assured that she wasn’t excluded for a negative reason. This may take time, don’t be in a hurry to move on unless you are sure she has.

3. Be fair. The world is so intertwined that many times we get as good as we give. If you are a private person then don’t get mad if someone else keeps their information private. If you planned to keep the information private but a couple of people already know about it, tell the people who are important to you rather than someone in your inner circle hearing it from a random friend outside or finding out she was one of the few people who didn’t know. Remember gist gets around pretty fast.

Life isn’t static. We will always have our own secrets and not be privy to someone else’s. Even though we may be inadvertently or intentionally excluded from certain circles of trust, we must be careful not to point fingers for with someone else we may have unwittingly crossed the same line. People have different characters and if you choose to be friends with a secretive person, you must own this and not get upset when the person is just being herself. You must also understand that some secrets are kept out of fear of past personal failures (they don’t want to jinx it) and not fear of what you can or can’t do to ruin it.

Finally, if you choose to keep a secret, do it for your own reasons and not because of advice from some random third party who doesn’t understand the depth of your friendship and has made you suspicious of the very people you trust. Your friend knows you and as a result can anticipate your reactions and odd behaviour hurts even more.

Nobody is perfect, may the force of friendship be strong within us and may forgiveness, love and understanding guide the ones we love and the ones who love us!

Have a lovely day Chutzpah fam,

Xoxo

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Posted by on May 23, 2018 in Memoirs

 

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The Rumble!

It rumbled and I quickened my pace, breaking out in a cold sweat, my house no where in sight. I felt another wave of regret wash over me as I broke into a run. I slowed down when I noticed the lascivious look on the face of the guy walking towards me. I hastily tried to gather my composure and give him my best version of disdain. It rumbled again even more loudly and I gave up, panic replaced the forced disdain on my face. I needed to get to my house before I was swept away, engulfed in the tsunami that threatened me. I started jogging. 

“It’s marvelous that you are keeping fit, I see you girls every evening but jogging is much better than walking. Yeah that’s it…”

I could barely offer a polite smile at the intrusive stranger. He had no idea that my world was about to collapse. That the sweat was not from exertion but from anxiety. I needed to get to my house on time!

21….22…..23

I took five deep breaths in close succession and continued counting. 

You can beat this…don’t succumb. My t-shirt was drenched in sweat. I heard the rumble again…much louder this time and my heart sank. I kept walking because I was too afraid to imagine what would happen if I stopped. I just kept walking…

I do not remember getting through the gates or turning the key in the lock or even ditching my clothes as soon as the door slammed shut. I only remember the relief that washed over me as I sat on the toilet and with one last rumble, let go…

I’m never touching milk again! Said the lactose intolerant girl for the umpteenth time. 

Sigh…we never learn!

Are you a little like me, thoroughly in love with something that’s so bad for you and willing to risk it all for a little taste every single time? Do you make penance afterwards with dozens of promises soon to be broken at the slightest whiff of temptation?

We all have our weaknesses but saying no to them is a skill we must acquire and master or else one day we’ll be so engulfed that we won’t make it home on time. 

So what’s yours? A secret addiction? An extramarital affair? Whatever it is you need to kick that habit before it ruins all you hold dear. The thrill and the danger are not worth the cold sweats, nervous shakes and dread that usually follow and perhaps like me you have become accustomed to this weakness and a little hardened, ready to bear the consequences like a Gee, remember that you may have to pay the wages for those sins very publicly and like me, almost crap in your pants in the middle of nowhere all for the love of milk…

#kickthehabit

Have a lovely night chutzpah fam,

Shout out to all the lactose intolerant people in the world.

Xoxo

 
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Posted by on July 24, 2017 in Memoirs

 

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When neighbors cross boundaries

Yesterday evening we had some friends over and as we saw them to the door, we noticed my neighbors were by my door chirping away excitedly. My landlord is not aware of this set of tenants as hubby and I never informed him of their illegal occupancy. They have a little shelter just by the door and hubby and I decided to live and let live and contribute our little good to the world by letting them stay. Anyway last night one of them must have been feeling pretty excitable because the next thing he was in my house right after I had just confidently assured my friend that our neighbors never ever overstepped their boundaries! Hubby was on the other side of the door and slammed it shut so that neighbor number two wouldn’t tag along, leaving our friends and I outside shouting unsolicited advice about the best way to get rid of the uninvited guest. 

‘Put off the lights’

‘Chase him towards the door’

‘Don’t let him get past the sitting room’

His partner turned her head mournfully from side to side, awaiting the lynching of her rogue love. And finally le boo was able to get the intruder out of our house and I think the adrenaline in my veins went down a notch.

Yes I have two cute birds living in a nest of twigs just at the entrance into my house and yes it took me a while to get over the fear of creatures flying at random in my personal space. They had never misbehaved till last night and now I’m not sure if I can trust them anymore. Real life neighbors are a bit like that. Unpredictable! I have had all sorts of neighbors in my 30- something years on the planet and have decided that boundaries must be set from the get go so that cordiality is not mistaken for foolery. It’s odd because I grew up watching the British series ‘Neighbors’ and singing ‘…that’s why good neighbors become your friends…’ and I have had a few friendly neighbors however erring on the side of caution is still best.

People generally are as unpredictable as those birdies. They allow curiosity get the better of them often to their detriment. Why that bird who had watched us open and close our front door every day for over a year decided that he’d try to get inside that evening beats me but I can understand where he was coming from. So many of us are on the outside looking in and waiting for just the right moment to take the leap that would potentially change our lives but can we take a moment to think about what boundaries we may inadvertently cross in doing so. Who would be hurt in the process or get burned? Whose trust would we have to betray? Sometimes crossing certain boundaries may leave irreparable damage so tread carefully in your relationships, your businesses and life in general. 

Have a great night!

Lots of love chutzpah fam,

Xoxo

 
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Posted by on July 23, 2017 in Memoirs

 

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Natural Hair Karma!

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I haven’t written a memoir in a while.

I’ll be the first to admit that. Well I got married (stale gist) and a lot of well meaning people were fast to point out that MizChutzpah would have to put a lid on her memoirs since no well meaning married woman should ever be caught talking about her personal life on social media!

Well I’m not sure they were referring to tales about my unruly hair oh cos if they were- biko thou judge and jury no vex, but this tale must be told!

……………………………………………………………………….

You already know my hair is one kain, read here if you have forgotten: this my hair sef

Anyway thanks to relaxers and good weaves I had been managing my hair jejerly and a lot of people even gave me pretty nice compliments because the hair upon all its shakara cleans up real nice on good hair days! And then the advent of the natural hair journey movement changed my life!
I’ll admit that in the early days I was like lailai ti lailai, I am team relaxer for life (who doesn’t like sleek straight oyinbo looking hair?) and the way some of the girls were wearing the hair like class captain badge sef and not even packing it properly just put me off.

Then came the fights on social media, name calling and what not became the order of the day. The naturalistas trying to make everyone feel like they betrayed their forefathers simply because they put relaxer in their hair! I would just sip my tea like Kermit and buy my Dr. Miracle while enjoying the debate on Bellanaija! I couldn’t imagine having to struggle with a comb every single day for the rest of my adult life. I had it all figured out truly until I stumbled into this whole no relaxer movement pretty much by accident!

I had bought my relaxer (it’s still sitting on my drawer) but couldn’t find the time to go to the salon (not a DIY freak abeg). After I was forced to remove my weave (when hubby is almost going to kick you out of the bed because the weave is starting to smell), I contemplated what to do with the dew hair. One morning I packed it to work as best as I could, hoping I’d breeze in and breeze out before anyone really took notice though truth be told for some reason I was feeling myself that day (the hair was fine sha) and got some natural hair compliments (odd) though one babe told me to go and relax the hair sharply. Anyway I kept putting it off till it became a thing somewhat (thanks to wigs, they are the real MVP).

Fast forward a couple of months and there I was, bored on a Saturday night in March 2016 and watching youtube videos when I stumbled on a DIY big chop video (shey I told you I wasn’t a DIY person). Anyway my hands got all itchy and I knew I was about to do something stupid, I left hubby in the sitting room and like a naughty child went in to play with my toys (toys being a sharp pair of scissors, my hair being led like a sheep to the slaughter and my mirror) and chop, chop, chop I went, feeling like Edward Scissorshands and somehow deriving some morbid satisfaction from seeing my hair fall to the ground. I walked quietly to the sitting room to confess my sins and reverend father was not pleased! His first reaction was a horrified expression while he was gathering the memento to utter his first words. Feeling cocky I gave him the scissors to finish the job since the middle of my hair looked like a rat had had a field day there. Being the supportive man he is, he quietly added barber to his cv and tried not to say the words he so badly wanted to say. I wore a hair band to church the next morning and I absolutely hated my hair. I won’t lie I sat on the toilet seat after church and cried my eyes out till it was time to make lunch. Nothing eats at your self-confidence like having hair that can’t pack!

Fast forward a couple of months, a million trial and errors and endless wigs not to mention the fortune spent on hair products half of which I couldn’t or wouldn’t use and my hair and its hunger for hair products had become a standing joke in the house. The hair had grown to a point where it could be joined with plenty attachment to make a base for weaves and I was living my life almost the same way as before the big chop (team weaves and braids), to me it was not a movement, I had nothing to prove. I wanted to feel beautiful and whatever helped me achieve that was my business alone! I’d like to give a shout out at this point to closures, whoever invented them should just come and collect her award because my hair was too short and natchy to peek out from a weave so that really wasn’t an option! Anyway since I was playing for both teams, I knew one day karma would catch up with me (it kuku has and I didn’t die so I shall continue this hair bigamy unrepentantly forever)!

About the karma incidence…

It was my birthday and I needed to renew my passport. The day before, I had put my hair in twists so that it would have a nice curl by the morning (thanks to youtube I had become a natural hair stylist guru of sorts plus the hair had grown plenty oh). Unfortunately my forestry reserve of hair was having the birthday blues and refused to be tamed so I put a hair band around it and left it looking the way natural hair looks when we don’t comb it (it’s still a style) and feeling the urban chic, I waltzed on cloud 9 to the immigration office. There was a short queue for the data capture and the woman in front of me caused quite a scene with her gorimapa ‘Amber Rose’ inspired blonde hair/head and when they refused to take her pic with her head looking like that, she had to beg random strangers for their wigs till an older woman obliged. If you have never borrowed a stranger’s wig, without a mirror or comb and had your picture taken the very next second for a passport that you would have for 5 years and a pic that would contribute to your luck at the visa office, then you cannot fully understand this woman’s ill-fortune. People found it so ludicrous they could barely contain their mirth. I won’t lie, I probably chuckled a little bit because really what if the wig had lice? (Mi o wa ku). Anyway that’s how it was my turn oh and I got up feeling fly and sat at the photo booth only to hear the worst words ever said to me: “Madam hoff ya scarf, no scarf fo pazzpot”. First of all WTF, second it’s a hair band, third WTF….sigh….why me? On my birthday of all days? How would I explain this cave woman passport photo? Anyway I could see from the impatient look in the man’s eyes that he wasn’t joking and he couldn’t be bought or swayed so I jejerly ‘hoff’ the thing and allowed my wild mane go free. I couldn’t even get myself to look at the picture on the screen. I looked like ‘I woke up like this’ but not flawless like Beyonce, more like the ‘I didn’t comb my hair before bed taadaa’ kinda look. #villageheadmaster #rugged #africangeh #villagebelle. I probably died a thousand times (the kind of death that your yeye lungs continue to collect air like they cannot sense the dire situation).

Anyway please don’t ask to see my passport and if you work in a visa office and happen to come across a hair with a face , I would like to just put it out there that I wasn’t trying to make a statement, the hair just refused to behave that day…here’s a toast to the next 5 years rocking my fro in my international passport! #karmaisunkind

Have a lovely night Chutzpah fam,
And next time you think you are having a bad day, look at your well coiffed hair in your passport photograph and thank Jesus!
xoxo
πŸ™‚

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2016 in Memoirs

 

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The City called Chaos!

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Valentine’s day has come and gone and while many remember fondly the day and it’s sweet memories, others are glad it’s in the past. I spent the weekend attending a friend’s wedding in the ancient city of Ibadan and I must say those hilarious memes about Ibadan peeps don’t even tell half the story. πŸ˜‰

Driving into the town, we were in awe of the okada men who drove their rickety bikes like they were Harley-Davidsons giving motorists a heart attack every time they pulled a stunt. I couldn’t help blessing Fashola and Oshiomole for curbing this menace in the metropolitan areas of their respective states. We checked into a hotel in Bodija supposedly one of the good ones and we were welcomed by a rude receptionist who’d probably just realized she was the side chick judging by her surly demeanor. It was Valentine’s day and the six of us checked into three rooms on the same floor eagerly anticipating the rest of the evening. We had a good laugh about all the people wearing red or a touch of red, from the vulcanizer to the bus conductor and the bride and groom had not been left out, their engagement colours being red and gold.

The men had threatened to burst our romantic bubble by announcing that they were going for the groom’s bachelor’s eve party that night with none of their wives in tow. We begged, cajoled, threatened and cried but all our pleas fell on deaf ears. The men imagined scenes from ‘Hangover’ and ‘Last Vegas’ and were not gonna fall for anything we were saying. When we realized they weren’t budging we revolted and announced we were gonna have a ladies’ night, wear our sexiest and paint the town red without our significant others. Alas we forgot we were a long way from home. The first disaster was the absence of running water in the entire hotel. We couldn’t take our baths or flush the toilets, it was absolutely ludicrous. The staff ended up fetching buckets of water for us to our consternation. Then in a bid to cheer us up, one of the bell boys announced that the hotel had Val presents for every room and so we trooped downstairs to claim our pressies. The side chick receptionist looked mildly surprised and then crestfallen when she reluctantly handed us the gifts, I guess she was hoping she would end up with one of them at the end of her shift. Well if she had been nicer I would have given up my ‘hamper’. The so-called hamper consisted of some sweets, onion crackers, nasco biscuit, an artificial rose and a bottle of cheap vodka but like they say it’s the thought that counts and these people needed us thinking sweet thoughts since they hadn’t fixed the water problem!

The guys decided to accompany us to shoprite. I think they were either worried about the hot dresses their wives were wearing or the fact that our itinerary included a movie at shoprite, dinner at a Chinese restaurant, suya, liquor and shaking our ukwu at any club we found before midnight! Anyway as far as they were concerned Ibadan was unsafe and they needed to keep us safe. I was still scoffing at that concept when we noticed that the women in the car in front of us were being robbed. Seriously what do you do when you notice that sort of activity in the car in front of you? There were no cops on the road and the taxi had no plate number. My friend tried to be a hero and was trailing the car but the driver noticed us and increased his speed along with some dangerous swerves and soon we realized we had not only lost them but we were lost as well.

We eventually got to shoprite and I experienced shoprite Ibadan for the first time in history. I think I actually feel safer in the market on Lagos Island than I ever did throughout my time there. There were thousands of people running against you and basically doing nothing. I could only imagine the pilfering rate, the security was obviously swamped. Seriously tho’ why would there be that many people at shoprite on Valentine’s day not doing anything? Did dudes take chicks to shoprite for dates? #eternallyconfused
My wallet was securely wedged between my arm and chest throughout. The guys were thoroughly frazzled and begged us to just buy suya in addition to the party favors we got from shoprite and have a quiet bridal shower at the hotel. We finally agreed after they promised to take us out somewhere romantic the next evening and after they showed us the way to the suya they left us to our fate.

The rest of the night was an angry blur (more like a bleh). We made the mistake of going to options 24-7 to buy suya and the other half of the population of Ibadan were there. It took us two hours and four reorders to finally get our soggy, onion-less suya, throw in two guys – one obviously having a mid-life crisis and the other still trying to find himself who were both hoping to get lucky and then the female police woman patrolling the road at night not to mention almost getting lost and we were back at the hotel too tired to have the crazy party we had planned. The men were just leaving for the bach eve and the hotel manager announced that my friend K and her hubby were the lucky winners of a romantic dinner for two in the hotel lobby (rolling my eyes), maybe the dining room was fully booked but the table for two at the lobby was anything but romantic and my friend’s hubby announced he was on his way out and that was the end of that story (I wonder what was on the menu πŸ˜‰ )

The next day was beautiful, the wedding was a gorgeous one and we had a splendid time. After it we decided to watch Kevin Hart’s new movie “About last night“.

It would have been a great movie if my hubby hadn’t dozed off ten minutes into the movie. The Ibadan cinema was hot, noisy and shabby but they had a gregarious audience and their comments added to the excitement (p.s if you are one of those people who like quiet cinemas DO NOT go here). That night I didn’t sleep a wink. I spent the night vomiting and stooling and by morning I felt like the walking dead. Everybody blamed the Chinese I had at the wedding. It was Ibadan’s way of saying ‘I am glad you came, do visit us again…’ (evil laugh)

I jejerly bought imodium and kissed the rustic city goodbye…
How was your weekend? I know mine sounds like it was the weekend from hell but despite being stuck in the city called chaos, I had mad fun! πŸ˜‰

There was a poll on the website asking readers if they thought Valentine’s day was overrated and majority (57%) felt it was overrated. I actually agree with the majority simply because I have learnt not to put too much pressure on myself or my loved ones. Too many of us have made val’s day about the gifts instead of the emotion behind the gestures. I had an awesome time because I was surrounded by friends and family (even though I almost died). It’s never too late to make the person you love feel special, don’t wait till February 14th next year to do it.

Have a lovely night Chutzpah fam,
(writing posts for y’all to read is really therapeutic, do drop a comment so I know you are there…)

Xxx

 
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Posted by on February 17, 2014 in Life, Memoirs

 

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Eggs on the run!

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What do Mondays and burnt toast have in common? Actually nothing unless you are Miz Chutzpah and this happens to be the craziest Monday morning you’ve had in ages or how else would you explain what happened to me this morning?

Here goes…

I woke up in time this morning, thankfully I said my morning prayers or heaven forbid, my morning could have been much worse. I was about to jump into the bathroom at a quarter to 7 when I remembered that hubby had a big day this morning and it’d be nice to make him some breakfast from scratch instead of warming leftovers. So armed with superwoman strength, I dashed to the kitchen, ditching my towel on the way and decided to make my special mayonnaise toasted egg sandwiches for him. I figured I could make them in ten minutes max and still get out of the house on time.

My sister in law had bought us Shoprite bread from Lagos the evening before and with glee I ignored the Benin-bought sliced bread on my kitchen table and began to cut nice, thick slices of bread for my sandwiches. One minute later, disaster struck. I broke the first egg onto the first slice of bread and it stayed put, tried repeating it with the second slice and the whole egg slithered off like it had somewhere else it had to be in a hurry. There I was struggling to catch runny eggs with my bare hands and seconds later I sighed at the futility of my actions and decided I’d let that egg go. I noticed the bread wasn’t evenly sliced hence the getaway egg saga and turned it to a more advantageous position (P.S: Always use already sliced bread when making sandwiches in a toaster).Β The new position only worked a little cos I still saw half the egg drip onto my already messed up kitchen table. Ignoring it and getting slightly irritated, I proceeded to put the second slices of bread over the egg clad bread and close the toaster and OMG the silly thing wouldn’t budge, much less close! Obviously the width of the bread was far beyond the capacity of the toaster but I wasn’t about to give up! I hoisted all @/$#@ kilograms of me unto the toaster determined to make it close by fire by force and then I heard two sounds. A big ole crack (groannnnn) as my trusty toaster split on the side and a deep chuckle as my hubby who had been quietly watching the whole drama burst into fits of laughter (Damn I didn’t know he was there!).

I was soooooo embarrassed….sooooo frustrated…..and wait for it…..so pissed!!! (Arrrrghhhh). Hubby asked me to calm down and go take a bath that he’d save the situation #supermantinz this was after helping me to close the already cracked toaster and put it on. I muttered something unintelligible and proceeded to leave the kitchen when I had another brainwave. The kitchen table was messy with eggs all over the place and I wanted it cleaned up cos I didn’t wanna come out of the bathroom smelling fresh and then have to clean up the mess. And so I attempted to clear the table and as I picked up a knife by holding the blade I howled in agony! The kitchen table had shocked me. My hubby quickly switched off the toaster and asked me to just go and take a shower #straightfacesmiley. I felt like such a klutz.Β I left the kitchen visibly angry with myself and then spotted the dining table where I had hurriedly left the rest of the shoprite bread outside its bag, I carried the bread gingerly to the kitchen to avoid littering my floor with crumbs and hubby glanced at me curiously wondering what was next. I stood by the dustbin and verrrry gingerly put the rest of the bread back into its bag and the f**king bag gave way!!! Hubby picked up the bread silently from the floor and with unshed tears blurring my vision, I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom.

This was a classic case of Murphy’s law- ‘whatever could go wrong would go wrong’. I was soooo pissed and cursed Murphy in all the languages my angry head could muster. What a great way to start a Monday….

As I sit in my office munching on burnt toast (don’t ask), I can’t but smile at the misadventures I had this morning. Thankfully the rest of my morning has been uneventful. Speaking of thanks, the bible says; ‘In all things and for all things, give thanks!’. It’s a bit difficult to give thanks when all the ill-fated dudes on the planet have conspired to drive you crazy but there’s always a reason to be thankful. I am thankful I didn’t get shocked to death- that’s as much thankfulness as I can manage at this point, but being thankful in all things is a learned behaviour and I’m learning. It’s our human default setting to complain or grumble when things don’t go as planned. ButΒ todayΒ I charge you to be thankful even when Murphy is in the building and your eggs are on the run!!!Β I cannot guarantee that your week will be problem free but I can guarantee that being thankful will get you more results than being a grump! My mama used to say complaining never got anybody anywhere.

So here’s to a week of gratitude!!! Have a great Monday chutzpah fam, Xoxoxo πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰

 
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Posted by on June 17, 2013 in Memoirs

 

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I just love awards, don’t you?

Hey guys, Memoirs of a woman with chutzpah recently won another award, bestowed on us by a really cool mom-diva I only just discovered- Chinny! Here’s a link to her blog: http://isetfiretotherain.wordpress.com/2011/10/05/you-blog-i-blog/ πŸ˜‰

It was quite unexpected and with utmost delight and lots of giggles, I wanna dedicate the award to my fans especially the ones who send me comments via fb, linkedin, blackberry messenger, face to face, twitter and especially those who take the time out to post comments on the blog site. Also wanna dedicate the award to my fellow bloggers both friends and frenemies, my old editor (you-know-yourself), my ‘heart’ and my whole army of family and friends. Love you guys and grateful for the support. All glory to God!!! πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

The award came with some conditions (no free lunch in Freetown) πŸ™‚ Here they are:

1.Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post.
2.Share 7 things about yourself.
3.Pass this Award along to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know about it!

Ok here goes…
I’d like to thank Chinny for the award, she’s a great writer and I enjoyed reading 7 awesome things bout her and can’t wait to explore her blog. πŸ˜‰ I wanna assure her that with the heart she’s got beating beneath her left breast, she’ll always be a great mom and also warn her that hating onions makes her more prone to a vampire attack (or is it garlic?) πŸ˜‰
Anyway thanks so much for the recognition and thanks for reading my blog.
(There’s a link to her blog above)

Now this is the scary part…7 more things about me??? *can’t look*
Gave you 27 on my birthday, soon you’ll know the color of the pata I wear on Sundays. :O Geez! TMI… Stalkers keep off, don’t make me go gaga on your ass!
*Diva moment over*

Now back to the task at hand:
1. I love cartoons and I totally love Disney channel on DSTV…my bf thinks it’ll make me dull πŸ™‚ but I figure you fry the same brain-cells watching African Magic as you fry re-living your childhood on a flat screen!
2. I used to be un-adventurous when it came to travelling but all of a sudden my parents are complaining that I can’t keep my feet in one town for 2 minutes. I blame NYSC because before I got posted to Ondo state against my wishes, the only place I’d travelled to alone was Johannesburg while in med school for a one month electives program! Now in less than a year, I’ve been to Kaduna, Abuja, Benin, Akure and Ibadan. πŸ™‚ More travels to come…at least, till the day I become the ‘good wife’.
3. I’ve been an MC at three bridal showers! When my friends convinced me to do the first one, I wondered how on earth they could have thought I’d be great for the part and despite my un-confessed stage fright, they made me do it and now I’m considering a career in it! πŸ™‚ ‘Jill of all trades’
4. I recently discovered that onions don’t make me cry anymore. Not sure if I’ve run out of tear-resources but I remember my struggle with onions and all the remedies I tried in a bid to look sexy while chopping ’em. (Trust me a runny nose, eyes bloodshot from crying and black streaks of mascara running down my face do not a charming cook make!)
I tried refrigerating the onions and tried chewing gum while cutting. Even tried facing a particular direction, can’t remember if it was against the wind or facing the wind but suddenly, I’m a hardened cook and those 10 onions had nothing on me! πŸ™‚
5. I believe no price is too much to pay for comfort! Well I mean monetary price oh, not blood and tears! On several occasions I have paid the hairdresser extra to come do my hair at home, I recently paid the phone guy to deliver my new blackberry at home and I have been known to pay the optician, shoe/dress-seller, tailor etc just so I can avoid the blazing sun and traffic! I sacrifice my hard-earned dough taking cabs when a car is not available and would rather sit at home than jump a bus if I can help it. Practising for the life of the rich and famous πŸ™‚
6. I love the wind in my face and after I got over my phobia of okadas last year and actually rode one, I’d have been un-stoppable save for the fact that my mum forbade us from sitting atop an okada in Lagos. She wants us alive and with our limbs intact! I confess that I have broken this rule once or twice in Lagos (sorry mum, had to!) But outside Lagos, I’m a badass passenger! πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚
7. My sisters call me ‘the crazy perfectionist!’ Hehehe πŸ˜‰
From time to time, my alter-ego comes out and I become a clean freak. The girl who decides out of the blues that the whole house needs spring-cleaning and surface cleaning isn’t ok or that an abandoned store-room needs to be put in order! I guess I do have a ‘choleric’ lurking in there somewhere. When I was doing my internship at LUTH, my colleagues used to call me a machine cos once I was in work mode, I was unstoppable and never tired. Pity my sanguine is the dominant me and I do enjoy lazy days a tad too much… πŸ˜‰

Now time to pass this award on to 15 recently discovered blogs…
I didn’t know there were so many blogs out there till the Nigerian blog awards. Before then, I only knew about Bellanaija (http://bellanaija.com), Memoirs of a slu…shhkid (http://www.360nobs.com/category/360-randoms/memoirs-of-a-slu-shhkid/), Femmelounge (http://femmelounge.org) and Diary of an ex-schoolnerd (http://exschoolnerd.net). Still love these websites but now I have so many more that are competing for my heart especially the new ones that remind me of how scary but fun starting a blog can be.

So today I’d like to bestow this award to 15 blogs that I find thoroughly fascinating!
In no particular order…
1. …What I think: http://babaneyo.wordpress.com/
2. Chronicles of a student who knew too little: http://www.pipishakes.blogspot.com/
3. Chronicles of da naΓ―ve: http://boyindizzl.wordpress.com/
4. Throes of a Safi boi: http://leonmacedon.wordpress.com/
5. Donsege: http://donsege.wordpress.com/
6. Ebuwa Alhaji speaks: http://ebuwa-alhajispeaks.blogspot.com/
7. Out of my head: http://ladetawak.wordpress.com/
8. Feisty pen: http://berryfeistypen.blogspot.com/
9. FAB blog: http://blog.fabmagazineonline.com/
10. Rose of Sharon: http://roseofsharonwrites.blogspot.com/
11. eTransformed: http://etransformed.wordpress.com/
12. GISTDOTCOM: http://gistdotcom.com/
13. The toolsman’s blog: http://thetoolsman.wordpress.com/
14. Good Nigerian Girl: http://goodnigeriangirl.com/
15. Le Dynamique Proffeseur: http://dynamiqueprofesseur.blogspot.com/

Hey winners, the same 3 conditions apply- scroll up to read ’em again. (I don’t make the rules!) πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰

I wanted to put Myne Whitman writes: http://mynewhitmanwrites.com/ because I absolutely love her but she had already received the award! (Much love sis!)

So thanks again Chinny for giving me something new to write about today and of course, for the award!
Memoirs of a woman with chutzpah is a year old this month (yay me!)…I wonder what would’ve happened if I wasn’t bored to my ears that fateful afternoon???

Have a great day peeps…only a couple of hours left and we get to say TGIF!!! xoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
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Posted by on October 6, 2011 in Memoirs

 

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