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Why I Loc’ed Up

| cheriarmour

If you’re new here and you don’t know what I look like, too damned bad.

Just kidding.

Me and AndrewThis is me and my friend Andrew at a brewery a few weeks ago.  You’ll notice a few things about me.  One, that I am stunningly gorgeous.  And two, that I have an entire head full of dreadlocks, or locs as they’re commonly referred to.

Kidding again about the stunningly gorgeous part too.  That actually took very much premeditation.  Like I actually showered on the day we took that photo.

But I’m getting off-topic.

So, people are really curious about my hair.  Less so these days, because locs are definitely far more common than they were, but the questions I’ve gotten about this hair, ranging from questions of hygiene to even my sexuality (yes) have been plentiful.

So here’s how I came to the style.

So when I was a wee junior in high school, I had literally done every style that there is to do on a little black girl.  As a kid, my mother had relaxed our hair.  We graduated to getting it relaxed at the salon, and then in the summer time, my mom began to allow us to do box braids.  When it was time to get the braids out, we’d stay up, all night sometimes, taking the braids out, washing, and combing our hair, only to spend another day in the african hair braiding salon for them to reinstsall.

After that, we’d be in agony for like two days waiting for the braids to loosen up because they’d be snatched up so tight.  It’s truly a wonder that I have any edges at all because the women braiding really were trying to make it a point that that didn’t happen.

This is a loose guesstimate, because I really didn’t realize the magnitude of my decision, but I want to say that early on in the year of 2003, I decided that I was 100% done with having my hair pulled, yanked on, burned off, and in general, sitting still for upwards of 8 hours, waiting for a style to be finished.  To this day I can’t sit still, so I’m not exactly sure how I did it when I was so young.  But I was really sick of it, and I told my mom I wanted dreadlocks.  I didn’t know much of anything about the style, which, today, sounds really bratty and sort of trustafarian of me, but I just knew I was done with conventional hairstyles.

Now, at the time, locs were not at all popular, and were mostly being worn by men, and by women of color who were either musicians, or stereotypically, lesbians.  (Which is where the comments about my sexuality came from in the early 00s.)  My father was fairly indifferent to the decision, however, he insisted, after I attempted to start them on myself, that I see a pro.  My mother, on the other hand, was really against the decision, since she associated the style with being unclean and some unsavory characters she’d interacted with in New York.  But we went to a pro who trimmed the relaxed and damaged hair off of the ends, and began to twist my entire head.  It was short.  Like really short.  And I wish I had photos of how long it was, but again, I didn’t realize how cool it would be to document, and I never thought to take a picture.

Prom

This is me at the prom in early 2005, probably about 1.5ish, 2 years into the process?

The thing that was really cool about starting the locs, and keeping them, was that similarly to life, you don’t realize the growth is there until it’s there, in your face.  When I started the locs, they were teeny-tiny, and I didn’t have anything to hide my face with.  I felt really exposed, and my dang scalp was cold.

With each wash, and then each year, they got longer and longer.  They’re long enough now to pull back, and for my wedding, I was able to pull it into a gorgeously complex style that served, not only as fierce wedding hair, but also doubled as a face lift cause this stuff is HEAVY.

The significance, since I’ve started my locs, has shifted a lot.  Locs went from being a style of convenience for me to being something more, something from which I draw a lot of pride, and I’ve fielded a lot of (good) questions about the process.  I think about cutting it sometimes, especially during the summer when it’s hot, or I feel like I need a change.  I think about cutting it, and starting it again, but I’m not sure what the future has for me.

What questions do you have about the hairstyle?

Cheri’s Most Fascinating People of 2015

| cheriarmour

Before we start, will you do me a favor?  If you like this post, share with yo frands.  Then like me.  Then follow me.  Or tweet me!  I’ll try not to be annoying about this, but I’ll remind you about once a week if you’re new here and you want to read more about how I can’t sit still.

I totally stole this from Taylor, and was laughing so hysterically, that I had to replicate my own.  We’re counting down backwards from 5, so get really pumped, number one is gonna be good!

5.  Rachel Dolezal.  This one really confuses me.  Part of me feels a deep need to make fun of her.  Part of me wants to slap her.  Part of me feels sorry for her.  If you’ll recall, Rachel was our friend who pretended to be a black woman for some time.  It sounds to me like she’s got some pathology in there (hellloooo social work degree), but I can’t be too sure.  But if that’s the case, she really needs to be under the close care of a professional.  Shoutout to this moment…

rachel-lied-about-race BOLTS FROM INTERVIEW

4.  Justin Bieber.  This fool went from 0-hero after a really thinly-veiled attempt to curry our favor with a roast on Comedy Central.  It worked.  He’s back.  At at last glance he was like songs 1, 2, and like 4 on Spotify’s United States Top 100 and Global Top 50.  That is ridiculous.  My words to you, Mr. Bieber are DON’T FUCK THIS UP.  You have been touched by an angel.  Take this opportunity and RUN WITH IT.  And stop wearing those long shirts.  I love you but no.

IMG_5630 IMG_5631

3. Ben Carson.  I thought, just by nature of him being a doctor by trade, that this would make him smart.  But…some of the things he says?  It’s beyond confusing.  Like…why?  Also thrown in there are Donald Trump and his supporters.  Fascinating as in…why are you a thing?  HOW are you a thing?  An honorable mention goes to the BMW driver who had a Ben Carson sticker on his or her car.  WHY WOULD YOU STICK A STICKER ON THE BUMPER OF YOUR CAR THAT COSTS ABOUT 2 YEARS OF SCHOOLING AT A PRIVATE LIBERAL ARTS UNIVERSITY?

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2. Zola and her weekend adventure in Florida.  This tale contained horror.  Trafficking.  Suspense.  And was told all in a series of Tweets.  Did Zola embellish?  Sure.  Do I still eat it up with a spoon?  Yes.  Zola actually responded to a tweet I sent her regarding her interest in starting locs.  I respect her hustle.

And finally…

1.  Black Twitter.  Black Twitter is a wondrous place with zero chill whatsover.  A few examples?

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Honorable mentions go to:

Curtis Jackson a.k.a. 50 Cent.  Bankrupt?  Orrrr you just don’t want to pay your child support?  Pay that woman, Curtis.

People who leave their carts out in the parking lot at Harris Teeter.  Still really intriguing.

Rob Kardashian.  Taylor mentioned this.  WHERE ARE YOU ROB?!  Are you ok?

On that note, Aaron Carter.  His Twitter is a strange, strange place.

Old people on social media.  Most specifically, our mothers.

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via Tumblr

Who are your most intriguing people of 2015?

Athletes foot. ON MY HANDS.

| cheriarmour

It’s been a really long time since I’ve talked about gross things that can befall you when you go to the gym.  Mainly because that stuff doesn’t faze me as much as it should, and because I want to encourage you guys to work out, not scare you off.

With working out, you are, for the most part doing something awesome for yourself.  But the nature of doing things that involve sweat and being in close quarters with someone else means that sometimes, really gross things happen to you.  You catch a cold, pinkeye, you rub the skin out from under your bra, you start to be able to smell yourself when you wait just a smidge too long after your workout to take a shower…you get it. [Side note: every. single. one. of the above. has happened to me.]

So, a few weeks ago, my palms began to itch.  First off, in Haiti, that’s a good thing.  It means you’re coming into money, which I’m totally fine with.  And one time, my palms starting itching really badly before I got a new job, so I knew something good was going to happen.

Then I figured it was just my acne medication.  After years of battling with problem skin, I’m still using Proactiv even though I’m no longer 16 and it’s sort of expensive.

After a few days of the itchy palms, I looked down, and saw this.

Athlete's Foot.jpg

It appeared that my skin was peeling.  And it got much worse than this.  Like way worse. I backed off, tried to apply the Proactiv with my fingertips, and even tried to crowdsource the info.  Which is disgusting and TMI, but I couldn’t get an appointment with Ginger, my dermatologist forEVER.

It wasn’t until one of the trainers wandered into my office a few mornings ago that it started to click. She pointed out that it seemed to stem from an area around my wrists, which meant that it might be related to something I’d touched with both hands.

Something I’d touched with both hands….what do I touch with both hands? A SPIN BIKE FOR MY WEDNESDAY MORNING CLASSES?!

I’d picked up a fungus from a spin bike.

After I figured that out, it was pretty much an easy fix – I bought a few tubes of lotramin and some spa gloves and it was cleared up within a week. But talk about gross/embarrassing?

What the heck gym? I thought we were cool! And then you betray me?

So in addition to strep-pinkeye-chafing-bacne…you can count Athlete’s Foot not on your feet as one of the perks of your gym membership.

I really don’t want to hear about what you’ve picked up from the gym if I’m being completely honest.  Instead, please share with me what you ate for breakfast this morning!

I think I “ate” a smoothie made with old frozen berries, Trop 50, some Whole Foods protein powder, and a handful of spinach!

When did you become aware of your body?

| cheriarmour

I have been really struggling with my body this week.  Which seems silly.  My body is capable of amazing things.  I’ve run marathons.  I teach multiple classes a week, sometimes multiple classes a day.  Sometimes, I look in the mirror in the morning, and see something awesome.  And yet, this week, when Aunt Flo decided to visit a few days early, and I put on a teeny bit of weight after what I felt was an amazing week at the gym, everything went to hell, and I became uncomfortably aware of how much physical space I was taking up.

I found the responses to last week’s post really interesting.  IRL, as well as online, I heard a lot from you guys (which I love).  However, the most intriguing responses came from the folks who’d shared on it in an online Trail and Ultra Running group I’ve been a part of.  Many folks commended my friend for calling me out, as they should have.  A few folks commended me for admitting what an asshole I’d been.  And more than most admitted to feeling poorly about their own bodies.  Some admitted to doing what I’d done, turning the things they felt were negative about themselves into rules that dictate what others should wear, and how they should wear it.

What’s so interesting about this group is that these folks are capable, strong humans.  Some of them truly do look like models.  Some look like fitness models.  Some are overweight.  Some don’t look like “typical” runner.  Some do.  However, their running and their capabilities are in no way defined by their looks.  So why all the angst as it relates to our bodies, especially considering the fact that at the very least, in that group especially, our bodies are capable of running endless miles on rugged terrain?

When did we get so aware of our bodies, and what they should look like?

For me, I remember being 120 lbs as a freshman in high school.  I struggled with my looks, the way I’m sure all 14-year-olds did.  I was sitting in a civics, and I looked down.  I was wearing a fitted top, and noticed the part of my tummy that was hanging over the edge of my jeans.  I pinched it.  I pinched it again.  To this day when I’m feeling anxious or particularly down, I will look down, grab that little roll, and pinch.  No matter how small or how round it’s gotten.

I’m not sure how I learned that behavior, or what drew me to became aware of this part of my body.  However, at 13 or 14, I knew that there was something “wrong” with it.  And, as I talked about last week, the things I find “wrong” with myself, I look for in others.

All of that said, I do identify with the fact that not everything I’m thinking is logical or right.  I recently ran a marathon.  I have incredible physical strength.  I just completed a grueling vinyasa sculpt class with minimal nausea.  I should have incredible gratitude for my body, these limbs, these muscles that get me from more than point A to point B.  But, my first instinct, my first learned behavior is to be critical of the physical manifestation of who I am.

At what point did you become aware of your body?  What does your body mean to you?

I got called out (and I totally deserved it)

| cheriarmour

It started a few days ago, when a nude picture of Amy Schumer started circulating around the internet.

via CNN Style
via CNN Style

One of my initial thoughts upon seeing the picture was, “that is not flattering at all. Just, why?”

I immediately hated myself for thinking that, and tried to pretend, every time I saw the picture circulated again, that I didn’t think that the photo was unflattering, or that I’d be too embarrassed to let the world see my tummy rolls.  But it sat in the back of my head.

I fought with myself over that picture.

And then, the other day, when I was at a pretty rigorous training, I spied a tall woman wearing a bright pair of leggings.  I immediately checked out her bum, because that’s what I do, and was less-than-impressed.  I sent a snarky comment about the leggings and the bum to the group chat, and put my phone away.

Thank God for good friends.

I thought the comment was sort of funny, and the others would share in my laugh, but instead, a friend of mine in the chat pointed out to me that not only was what I said unkind, but that the comment made her question what sort of things I might be saying about her and her body.

I was a little blown – of course, she had to understand the comment was meant to be funny, right?

But was it?

And 30 seconds into me trying to rationalize my wretched comment, I realized that she was completely correct, and that I’d made a mistake.  A big, mean, nasty mistake.

The woman’s leggings were not affecting me in the least.  They didn’t take away from my workout.  Her body was a strong, healthy, functioning body.  So why, oh why, for the love of all things holy, had I felt the need to snark?

Because I don’t always feel 100% about myself, and I was picking apart in her, the things I don’t love about myself.

I’m preoccupied with my stomach – it’s the first place my body will let me know that I’ve gained weight, and I feel like I’m the only woman in the world who gets the donut when she’s wearing a bikini and bends over.  (I know, in theory I’m not, but stay with me).  My butt has grown since I’ve started lifting heavier.  Though I’m tall and thin, sort of that ecotmorphic shape, I have wild stretch marks on my thighs that have been there so long that I almost don’t notice them any more.  My boobs are bigger than I’d like, and I take care to hide them – I was actually (very kindly) told by a photographer for the Y recently to put my boobs away when they’d escaped my top.

And THIS is why I pick other women apart.  Because, in a really fucked-up way, I pick myself apart, and when other’s don’t abide by my rules of what’s flattering or what’s sexy, I can’t handle it.

And that’s not right.

I’ll conclude by saying I’m disturbed by my behavior, but that I know I can be better, I know I can change my thinking, and I plan on starting like yesterday.  And in making a pure, concerted effort not to pick part the bodies of others, I will start to forget those little things about myself that are, in my mind, less-than-perfect.

Thanks for reading.

X

Currently

| cheriarmour

I borrowed this from Becca Dorr, but I thought it was a good way to catch up from the holiday weekend.  That was filled with way too  much eating, and way too much stuffing.

ANTICIPATING 2016.  We’re not far off, and I just am ready to make some things happen on some things that have been stagnant.  Or not stagnant, but things I’m ready to move on.  I’m still working on our house, need to hang things, and change colors around, and I’m just ready for it.

CLEANING my innards!  I ate way too much gross stuff for Thanksgiving, and it was good, but it also feels good to eat a salad and drink a few smoothies.  I’m not used to eating that much, and at that frequency.

DREADING cold weather.  I know it’s coming.  I’m not sure I’m ready.  In fact, I know I’m not ready.

DRINKING Michelob Ultra.  Everyone makes fun of me, but I got into it when I was back at camp in Pennsylvania, and started to enjoy the taste.  That and vodka are my two nostalgic, Pennsylvania drinks.

FEELING kinda fat.  Thank you, Thanksgiving.  Lots of green things this week.

LISTENING to Khloe Kardashian read off the back of a Jif label.  #KUWTK

PLAYING “Love Yourself – Justin Bieber” on repeat.  That song is gorgeous, and I hear that Ed Sheeren wrote it.  Me and my friend Mollie have done some wild speculation on who it could be about.  Hailee Steinfeld is the frontrunner, and she said something sort of weird at the AMAs last week.

READING ok, technically listening, but I am listening to Aziz Ansari’s book.  I’ve always been into his humor.  I find it interesting because I met my husband prior to Tinder and online dating being a thing, so I never had that experience of dating in the modern age.  But I did have the experience of sort of texting…and waiting, or flirting via Facebook chat, or being on the other end of trying to ignore someone.  So I find his take really interesting.

RECOVERING from food-fest 2k15.  I know I’ve referenced this a lot, but I really don’t feel great.  I hate overdoing it.

TRYING to plan workouts and food for this week.

WAITING for my big student loan payment to come out :/ I will be so glad when I’m done with that mess.  I feel like I’m in prison paying these loans.

WALKING the dang poodle to the door so she will go to the bathroom outside instead of in the house, which she likes to do when it rains outside.

WEARING nasty workout clothes.  I did a two-fer today – went for a hike with a friend this morning, then a short track workout this evening, so I  kept the clothes on and I totally reek.

What are you reading this week?

Stevie Wonder part trois!

| cheriarmour

This weekend, I celebrated my 28th birthday.

The weekend was absolutely bananas though, and it’s not entirely my fault.

So months ago, I got an email from Loretta Bates’ assistant to see if we’d be willing to schedule a training on the weekend of November 14th.  Of course, right?  We have a great relationship, and I’d love to have Loretta at our facility for the Zumba B1 Training.

So then, I’d scheduled my Body Pump training for the weekend FOLLOWING.  (I did it again because I really haven’t used the skills from my first training).

Also, I got word that Stevie Wonder was going to be in Charlotte on the 14th. No worries, I can make this all work.

Well, long long story short, the Body Pump training was inexplicably moved back to the weekend of the 14th.  So on Saturday morning, I woke up early, set our folks up for the Zumba training, ran OVER to State to take the Body Pump training, got OUT of the training, and drove down to Charlotte to see Stevie wonder with my dad.

I was exhausted, but the concert was so worth it.  It started off a little – and I don’t want to say annoying because that’s not the right word – but it was a little nerve-wracking.  Because of the horrible tragedies in Paris on Friday night, security was really nuts, and we ended up standing in a HUGE crowd for a while before the concert started.  I actually tweeted the venue, and begged them not to start the show, and they didn’t.  I think that’s more on Stevie though.  [Before you start to think I’m really narcissistic, the reason why the security was nerve-wracking was because we were standing in a really antsy, quasi-angry crowd, and I was SO afraid of either being trampled, or something else horrible happening.  But perhaps that’s just my anxious mind speaking.]

But the show did not at all disappoint.  I think my favorite part was when…well dang.  I don’t think I can pick a favorite.  But I loved the feeling that I was completely lost in the music.  I could have stayed there all night, and not noticed.  But instead, I had to wake up around 4am, and head back to Raleigh to finish my Pump Cert.

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I think it was the love of Jesus that got me through Sunday. I rocked my tracks, passed the cert, and got one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten in life.

I was told that I had a magnetic personality. Ugh. That makes me freaking tear up. I don’t know why. But it’s nice to hear nice things about yourself.

After I got home (and this is the actual day of my birthday), I poured a glass of wine, noshed on some chips and salsa, and laid down on the couch. Austin came in, sweetie pie that he is, and dropped off some more wine, some kombucha, and a really sweet card for me. But the sweet thing was that he let me SLEEP off the weekend, and sort of tiptoed around the house.

Later, he and my brother took me out to froyo, and later, dinner at a Coquette, a french place here.

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I’m not huge on birthdays, but it was so good, and it felt good, throughout the weekend, to be acknowledged. I think it’s really easy to sort of get down on yourself. My house is messy, I can’t get everything I want to get done done in a day, my clothes are rumpled – but it’s so so nice to remember that you’re enough.

You might not have seen Stevie Wonder for the 3rd or 4th time, but what did you do this weekend?

Wedding Weekend in Asheville

| cheriarmour

Honestly, middle of the week last week, I thought I wasn’t going to make it to the weekend.

Tuesday evening, I was at work, and attempting a quick dinner.  It was one of those evenings when I couldn’t seem to get a second to myself at work, and I got a call over the walkie for like the 700th time.  I pushed myself back from my desk, maybe a little too hard, and my laptop cord got caught in the wheels of my desk chair.  Before I realized what was happening, the computer crashed to the floor, and I knew it was bad.

I screamed a word that is not considered appropriate to God-fearing people, and the computer worked for about 20 more minutes before it completely crapped out.  I immediately contacted IT, but was pretty computerless for the better part of two days, save for an old laptop I was able to dig out of a drawer at work.

So after that, I cried to my husband that I did think I could make a wedding we were planning to attend with the pile of emails that were sure to await me.

But, before long, and with me making a trip or two back to our corporate headquarters to drop off my laptop and beg our IT specialist for mercy, I had a fix – the fall destroyed the hard drive, and sweet Jim replaced it for me.  Thankfully, Google Chrome saved a lot of the bookmarks I needed for work, and all was not completely lost, and after a few meltdowns, I was comfy to head to the wedding of Kim and Nate on Saturday.

Wedding Weekend!

So, this time on our trip to Asheville, instead of getting a hotel, we did an Air BnB.  Because we left early enough, we had time to get into the place, a cute basement apartment hanging off the side of a mountain, and I had time to go for a short run while Austin took a little nap.  By the time I got back, he showered, and I was in full swing, getting my hair pinned up before I hopped into the shower to make my face look decent.

**Side note** I once read something that Jamie Chung said, something along the lines of the fact that her pre-pretty dress routine is to run, and that always stuck with me.  So before a fancy event, before getting into a dress, I like to go for a run as a little routine for myself!

12038128_10100658246815083_5370832722895189715_nRentallll!  Funny enough, I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be crazy about this one – the inner part of the dress was just tight enough around my getting-bigger butt, and I wasn’t sure if I would look like the dress was riding up.  But I think it turned out perfectly!

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12109245_10100658853913453_2601969357904391935_nAdele, pictured here, also rented the runway.  She and a friend actually picked this dress out for me when I found myself getting overwhelmed by the options.

Not pictured: this rad cape I got since the ceremony was outside and just a little bit chilly.  But it was awesome. and really high fashion.  If you saw me in it, you might even think I was a fancy classy lady!

So the wedding of Kim and Nate was really fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed the break.  The wine was flowing, and I really enjoyed dancing with friends, as well as this cute little girl we met on the dance floor.

The next day, after I woke up really early and took Aleve and vitamins before the storm hit (praise you Lord for that insight), and prepped to push off and hit brunch with some folks from the wedding, as well as an old friend from Elon.

We were missing part of our crew, and the mystery was solved when Adele told us that they got a text at like 3am from some of the boys, telling us they’d just gotten back and they weren’t going to make it back.  Oh well!

After we gobbled up brunch, I sort of rudely invited myself to join Wayne (Elon bud) on his quest to find his sister’s booth at a local flea market.

Can we talk about this flea market for a second?  K.  Tiny plants.  Vintage clothing.  Someone told me I had a nice voice.  Like speaking wise.  Which is hysterical because when I speak I sound like Hilary Banks, but that’s beside the point.  I find some old silverware, which is like ME THING, and got to walk around drinking alcohol next to the French Broad River.

And then…

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WE MET THIS TINY CAT AND THEN WE PUT IT IN A MUG.

I’m not really in the market for any more pets because we’re psychotic and already have like two too many, but don’t let that fool you. I briefly considered stealing this kitten and raising him as my own.

Enough about me…what did you do this weekend?

Things I don’t Get.

| cheriarmour

Guys, hold the phones.  It’s actually warm and sunny in North Carolina, so I’m taking full advantage by blogging a little on my lunch outside of the building.  If you can believe it, I’m actually sorta hot?  But I’m not really going to even think that because I don’t want the rain gods to get upset and wallop us with 12 straight days of rainfall.

And keep SC in your thoughts – there’s still a lot of flooding there that has not yet receded.  I’ve sort of joked about how miserable the rain made me, but I can at least say that my home is in one piece.

Onto this week’s edition of things I just don’t get.  This was sort of inspired by Tay‘s post on Miley Cyrus.  And she raises some valid wtf moments.  Do you follow her on Instagram?  It makes no  sense.  None whatsoever.  And I really liked her last album, but I’m not sure I can do it anymore.

Things I Don’t Get

  • Not working out.  What I do get, is that we all have reasons.  If you look at Maslow’s Heierachy of needs (helllloooo MSW), if your basic needs aren’t being met, lifting weights isn’t really a consideration, right?  And why should it be.  But if we all considered taking even a 30-minute walk a day and placed it on the same level of importance as we did as brushing our teeth and taking showers, maybe things could look a whole lot different.  Remember, the purpose of working out isn’t to get a six-pack.  It’s for YOU.  It’s for YOUR health.  It’s for YOUR mental health. It’s for your SPIRITUAL health.  It’s not something that you should see as optional.  So no, it doesn’t mean that you should be splurging for a fancy gym membership or wearing Lululemon all day with a topknot.  But should you be walking?  Maybe jogging?  Doing SOMETHING?  Yes.
  • Mushrooms.  They are terrible and disgusting.  The worst part, in my mind, of being a vegetarian/pescatarian/vegan is that everyone just assumes you want a giant mushroom on a sandwich.  I don’t.  I never will.
via Peta2.com
via Peta2.com
  • Donald Trump.  I keep waiting for the punchline that never comes.
  • Old people texts/tweets/posts on social media.  I am a child of Facebook.  Facebook was a thing when I came to school in 2005, and at first, only college students with a .edu address were allowed to register with an account.  This is not at all to say that old people shouldn’t be allowed on Twitter, to text, or on social media, but they need to play by the rules
    • No weird selfies.  Selfies SHOULD be flattering.  And not embarrassing to your children.
    • No one-word responses to texts or emails.  “K” is never appropriate.  At least, “K :)” so people don’t know you’re being passive aggressive.
    • Do not sign a text. “-Uncle Phil”  We know it’s you.  You’re my uncle.  And your number has been saved in my phone since 2003, when I got my phone.
    • Please salute your emails.  Even with a name.  “Cheri,” works.  But don’t rattle off whatever dumb crap is going on in your head without even letting me know you’re in the house.  It’s rude.
  • Fantasy football.  That’s about all I’ll say on that.

What are a few things you just don’t get?