Sooooooo back in November I pre-ordered a Baby Yoda/The Child from the Disney shop the second it became available to pre-order. I did not receive it until May,* by which point I had more or less forgotten that I pre-ordered Baby Yoda to begin with. He arrived hidden amongst the other boxes of office supplies that were dropped outside the office that day. When I opened that box and found THE CHILD, both Bossman and I lost approximately 45 minutes of productive work time. Mostly posing Baby Yoda in various spots in our new office. Because I am a normal grown ass adult, I naturally have turned my instagram account into a Baby Yoda mommy blog. It started out as a funny idea a friend and I had to troll all the so-called influencers. But Y'ALL I'm pretty sure every single person who now has their Baby Yoda has started up an instagram account. It's absurd. I love it. Here's a photo of Baby the day he came home.
Also my hair is now purple
I can colour my hair no problem, but I'm waaaayyyyy too nervous to lighten it on my own. So with no more salon appointments, the only other option was to dye my hair purple. Follow @caelesto on insta to see just how much of my mind I have lost. *The fact that Disney could not foresee the global phenomenon of a Baby Yoda blows my mind.
Three times, during my high school and college years, I had this experience: I was walking around town with a friend, in broad daylight, both of us chatting and laughing and clearly enjoying each other's company. And then a police car pulls up to the curb and the cop rolls his window down to ask me if I'm ok. Extremely confused--the first time--I was like, "......yeah?" Not until he drove away did I fully comprehend what had just happened. My friend was black. The second time, I got mad. Same exact scene--me and my friend/old roommate trying to enjoy a nice day walking around Philly, cop pulls up, and asks me if I'm ok. I was pissed. I responded, "Am I ok? Why do you ask?" I paused for half a second to give him the impression that I expected an answer, but then answered for him, indicating my friend. "It's because he's black, right?" The cop went immediately on the defensively offensive, muttering BS about "just doing my job" and this whole time my poor friend was getting more and more distraught until he was basically cowering behind me and begging ME to stop, to just leave it alone, he didn't want trouble with a white cop because--SHOCKING, I know--this wasn't his first such run-in with a cop. So I told the cop to piss off in the politest way I could manage. The third time this happened, it was with that same friend. Out of respect for his feelings and his desire to not get shot for no reason other than being black while hanging out with a white woman, I tried to keep my temper in check, although I made it very clear to that cop that he ought to reconsider his profession because he clearly had some issues with people of colour. I have more stories similar to this than I care to remember. But here's one that still sticks out in my memory: A few years ago, one Sunday after church, Lil Bro#2 and I took my friend's 2 daughters junk shop-hopping for the afternoon, as friend had looked very tired and had admitted to having a rough week at work. So I said we'll entertain the girls, grab them some dinner, and bring them home later so you can have the day to yourself. (This was before the girls entered their teens, and thus still viewed me as incredibly cool and not just Old.) Lil Bro#2 and I first stopped at one of our favourite junk shops, and told the girls to let us know if they found anything they liked. One found a doll bed the perfect size for her American Girl Doll, the other found a 35mm camera that appeared in good condition, so we spent a grand total of $10 and both girls claimed they had an amazing time with us. A couple weeks later, Lil Bro#2 and I returned to that same shop. We'd been going there for the better part of a year at that point, and were pretty friendly with the two guys who owned the place, so we usually ended up chatting with them for a bit. That particular day, one of the owner asked me, "Where's your menagerie? That some kind of inner city outreach thing?" His exact words. I will never ever forget them. (Did I mention my friend and her daughters are black?) I had a moment of stunned silence. Then said something along the lines of "those are my friend's kids, they live in Warwick." We did not return to that shop again, and a few weeks later it ended up getting sold. Now it's a combo farmer's market and junk shop I think. Good riddance. BLACK LIVES MATTER Yes, in a perfect world, all lives matter. But this is not about that. This is about a very very real problem. So as far as I'm concerned, anyone touting #allivesmatter can SHOVE IT up their ass. Now some more bad news:
