Moments before this picture, I busted my ass trollop-ing DOWN the hill on the way to my car. I screamed, ‘ahhhhhhh’ and Bugg asked me if I was ok in a tone that read…dang ma, I would normally laugh but you fell REALLY hard; and so I’m worried as opposed to being amused. Because my fall was headed down the hill, I fell and then did a mini sliiiiiide into the valley. Let’s call this ‘first base’, shall we? Then I just laid there in the first-base-valley of Bust-ass-Ville. My boo, who was watching from across the parking lot, ran to my rescue with that same look of ‘worry as opposed to amused’ look in his eyes that Bugg had. And I thought, “I wish y’all would just laugh – that’d be less embarrassing”. They both insisted on helping me to my feet which embarrassed me more. I tried to resist their assistance at first. I probably could’ve chilled in first-base-valley for the remainder of the day; at least until the sun set. But nooooo, Mr. Massage Therapist and lil Miss Limber just had to grab either elbow and help the Grey-ish Tumble Weed onto her feet. It’s fine though. And I didn’t break na’er hip, wrist or ankle. So there! I got up. Second base. And made it to my car. Third base. With the help of those around me who find it necessary to help before they chuckle (‘cause let’s face it…me. + falling. + sliding. + ‘resting’ in the valley. = ha+ha 🤷🏽♀️🤦🏽♀️💆🏽♀️😆)! Home-base. Moral of the story – it’s sooooo easy to slip and fall when one is trollop-ing DOWNhill! Give credence to the side of the mountain that provides traction! That’s all folks.
Our ancestors come from Yoruba, therein lie the roots of our family tree. And so you will have a Yorubaland name – a name that means to breathe.
MAHism2026: prose, poetry, peculiarities... 