What Stephanie Said? Yeah. That.

When I think of home

I think of a resting place

A place where there's peace, quiet and serenity...

I can close my eyes right now and hear Stephanie Mills' voice at the opening of the song, "Home" from the 1975 Broadway musical, "The Wiz" and feel completely connected to the lyrics Charles Smalls penned.  *picture me swaying from side to side*  You can't tell me he did not write them with who was then 5-year old Faith Margaret in mind!  That song spoke to my reality in ways my young mind couldn't possibly understand and the feelings are the same for me some 40 years later.  See, it has always been a fantasy of mine to have a home.  Not an apartment.  Not a spot.  Not my own place.  Not even a house.  My fantasy has always been and continues to be to have a home in the most sincerest form.  A resting place where there's peace, quiet and serenity.  Just like Stephanie sang about so long ago.

In that fantasy I envisioned I would share my home with good people I loved and cared for over dinners with a table crowded with bright and festive large serving dishes filled with steaming pasta, baskets lined with earth toned cloth napkins and crusty buttered and hot french bread nestled inside, varietals of opened bottles of wine and a huge glass bowl filled with crisp veggies making the perfect salad.  There would be candles lit in every dark corner of my home and soft soul music floating through the air that complimented the loud voices and raucous laughter of those good people all sprawled out on the sofa, love seat and floor.  Completely satisfied and feeling very much at home.  That was the fantasy.  Earlier this week a good friend opened her home to me for lunch and that fantasy from long ago summoned me again.  

It was a warm day and the sun was bright, caressing everything with it's amazing radiance.  Her front door was open and the aroma of the homemade Chicken Tortilla Soup that was simmering on the stove greeted me when I stepped onto her porch.  I gave a cheery, "Helloooo..." through the screen door and she ushered me inside with a warm, "It's so good to see you, friend" embrace.  She invited me to make myself at home and disappeared into her kitchen to finish preparing our meal.  

My ears perked up to the diverse array of music rising to the top of her home that ranged from jazz to latin, just loud enough for me to sway to the melody every now and again.  The entry way to the home had a wooden bench as it's companion where I imagined friends and family sat to remove their shoes before walking across the beautifully laid wood floor.  The large, rustic, wood dining room table situated perfectly beneath a beautiful light fixture beckoned me to run my fingers along it's grooves and imperfect indentions.  My eyes danced around and landed on countless pictures of her daughters, lover, family members, friends and pets adorning practically every wall.  A large canvas picture of a draw bridge nestled in the fog graced the wall in the family room and held me captive for a moment.  I caught myself wondering where the bridge lead and how I could I get to wherever it was?  A thick and colorful rug rested on the living room floor before the picture window that was unobstructed and offered a full view of the front yard and the bird feeder that offered treats to it's visitors.  Live lush green plants sat on this shelf and in that corner leaving trails of life throughout the rooms.  A Buddha was positioned near the front door exuding peace and serenity whenever I glanced in it's direction.  *Namaste*  Spices, fresh herbs and veggies, richly painted platters and artistic vases lined the pristine counters in the kitchen, hinting at the frequent use of this part of the house.  Sun rays bright enough to make me squint burst through the kitchen window above the kitchen sink.  With the front door ajar and the sliding door to the backyard open a gentle warm breeze carried through the home and ushered me to feast my eyes upon the lemon tree, herb garden, strawberry patch, vegetable patch and lush green grass that licked right up to the patio where a large table and chairs incite me to sit a spell.  This was a home.

My friend poured a tall glass of minty iced tea for me and made sure I sat in the most comfortable chair at the dining room table, as we began the journey of reconnecting after too much time apart.  She listened intently while she stirred the piping hot homemade soup on the stove, peering inside to make sure it was coming along fine.  She paused and asked questions at just the right time as she pulled large bowls from the cabinet that would hold the soup.  My friend laughed on cue at some random thing I said as she placed our meal on the table, held my hands and agreed with the same thanks I offered to bless our food.  Over the next hour or so, she watched with concern as I finished every drop of soup from that big festive bowl in front of me, offered me more, offered me more, refreshed my drink (even added more organic honey to taste), pushed cookies in front of me insisting I have something sweet...all while chattering away with me about the comings and goings of our lives.  We parted ways promising to do more of this...more often and sooner in the days to come.

I floated on that feeling of being cared for sparked by my friend opening her home to me that day.  And I left feeling inspired to dust off my fantasy and invite those I love and care for to float on the feeling of being cared for over an invitation to our home to share time, space, food and drink.  Now, I can get caught up in the tired exercise of reminding myself of what we need in our home before we should even consider such a gesture.  Or!  I can wonder at all we have that firmly puts that kind of foolish thinking squarely in perspective.  It matters not if our home is newly constructed, complete with modern furniture, air conditioning, plush carpet, rich flooring and enough square footage to comfortably fit everyone and 'dey Mama.  What matters most is the atmosphere we create beyond our walls that reflect all good things, you know?  Those values and priorities of our family life that saturate the environment and leave friends and family feeling lifted.   

Home is wherever we are and with whoever we are with.  And if I know my friend, I imagine opening her home to me and sharing her time (our most precious gift) and space did her some good as well.  Ain't that grand?!?

    

When I think of home, I think of a place

where there's love overflowing

I wish I was home, I wish I was back there

With the things I've been knowing

At Some Point We All Have to Choose

"Scandalous Thursdays!"

"Hi!  My name is Faith Margaret and I watch Scandal."  I enjoy it.  Thoroughly…and will blog  right here about all new episodes on Thursday nights beginning next week.  Oh!  Your theories about what is happening next in this suspenseful show are welcomed along with my musings.

Cardinal Rule in Crisis Management:  Do Not Lie

Reporter:  “Olivia Pope!  Are you the President’s mistress?”

Olivia Pope:  “Yes.”

Said no woman EVER when confronted with a crowd of people thrusting microphones and cameras in her face as she tries to quietly duck into some building to avoid the question she has been avoiding all along.  But not Olivia.  Nuh uh.  She caught a glimpse of the possibility of her long nurtured fantasy coming to reality and gave up the biz’ness.  And Fitz?  Well, Fitz finds this admission by Olivia quite hot and can’t contain the smirk that settles on his face (and likely rise in his hand tailored trousers) when she walks into the Oval Office. 

I find it fascinating how Mellie facilitates the affair between Fitz and Olivia when it suits her andngets quite self righteous when it no longer suites her.  Like right damn now when she finally is making inroads to playing on the field with the big boys. If we know anything about Mellie we know she embarrasses easily and is having none of that foolishness.  The inside is a mess but the outside is perfectly coiffed, polished and buttoned with a smile that brightens up the room.  Somebody told Olivia and Fitz wrong!  I can hear Mellie’s heels click clacking across the shiny polished floors of the White House searching for a secure phone line. “Put me through to Cyrus Bean, please.”

Where the hell is Papa Pope?!?

Awwww, sookie sookie now!  Cyrus is back!  He answered the call to serve made by the Junior Senator of the great state of Virginia.  Time to get dirty!  We all know Mellie has wanted to destroy Olivia Pope and watch her and Fitz suffer terribly for their wanton lust for one another and she’s all in her feelings.  It takes cool, calm and collected Cyrus to give Mellie a little straightenin’ about how to work this thing to her advantage.  He reminds her, “This is a very important moment.  Don’t waste it being human (code for woman).  Think like a champion.  Tell me, what do you want?”   Surpise!  Mellie wants to be the first woman President of the United States…the Oval Office and the highlights of her 3 page list of demands include: 

1.  The President will be the Senator’s b!#$h and support her run for the White House with all great enthusiasm.

   2.  There shall be no canoodling in public between Fitz and Olivia until the divorce is final.

   3.  Olivia will not move into the White House until the divorce is final.  Wonder if staying really late and creeping out before the sun rises without any need for pajamas at the White House is prohibited, too?  Hmmm… 

   4.  Olivia shall have no interaction with the Senator’s children without the Senator’s consent.  Of course!  Must include the kids in this, especially since their daughter saw Mellie getting her knees dirty last season.  How soon she forgets… 

   5.  There is only 1 Mrs. Grant and there shall NOT be another Mrs. Grant.  Irrelevant.  For some reason I think Olivia would be hard pressed to give up her maiden name, anyways. 

All of that sounded like a good idea.  Until Mellie had some time to think this thing through a little more and blames Cyrus for not giving her more than what she asked for.  She dares to call him soft *insert the puppet strings* and off Cyrus storms with that 3 page agreement to be the beast he was before he was fired from the White House by Fitz himself.  Only that beast inside old Cyrus must have been hibernating because he looked like a sad little puppy as he shuffled into the Oval Office to speak with Fitz.  It almost works, too!  Cyrus gets Fitz to pause and think of

Blow up the spot, that's what!

postponing the realization of the Fitz and Olivia fantasy to keep Mellie happy for the time being.  Just until he finishes his last term as President because of course, Cyrus wants to be put back in the game with the President again.  Cyrus’ theory that Mellie knew her marriage to Fitz was lacking but she never imagined she would be without her friend actually makes good sense.  She is mourning the loss of her lifelong friend, companion and team member.  Without Fitz, Mellie is alone in the world and without a companion or love relationship.  Remember the other cat that truly loved her is somewhere in a hospital in a coma.

Anyways.  Now Olivia has to tell her BFF why she lied to her face when she denied being the mistress she finally admitted to being in front of countless reporters.  Not because Olivia wanted to protect Abby but because Olivia knows Abby is no Olivia Pope.  More like…Olivia Nope.  Or Faux Olivia.  Or No-livia.  You get the picture…

And there goes Olivia all comfortable in The Oval Office sprawled out on the couch with that bad coat off instead of tightly cinched around her waist.  Fitz is in the building and he’s feeling himself, huh?  Only thing is he is still doing whatever Olivia tells him to do.  “Listen to her, Fitz.  She is right, Fitz.  Don’t do that, Fitz.  Think about it this way, Fitz.” 

Where the hell is Papa Pope?!?

Quinn and Huck are still the last gladiators standing and holding down the fort with Jake lurking in the shadows pretending like he cares about Pope & Associates.  You know that I know that you know that I know that Jake is really just waiting to throw his cape on and save Olivia when her fantasy fades from view again.  He’s kinda like the “Emergency Penis in the Glass Box” (we all grown) that plenty women have and save for the most desperate of times.  Sorry fellas, just keeping it real.  Case in point, dig how Olivia laid across the bed in the White House and called Jake for comfort as the world was spinning crazily around her while she and Fitz were trying to make their fantasy a reality?  Mmmm hmmm.  Emergency.  Penis.  In.  The.  Glass.  Box. 

Where the hell is Papa Pope?!?

Olivia and Mellie have another face-to-face showdown as Mellie pants and claws through her walk in closet in search of some old hooch in a mason jar.  And you knew just like I knew that Olivia wasn’t going to drink after Mellie.  That’s just nasty. We don’t do that because we, “…don’t know where you lips been!”  Mellie caused her to think, though about just what she was signing up for.  Reminding her lonely and selfless an existence it can be being the FOTUS.  Smart play, too because Mellie knows Olivia just about as well as Fitz does, right?  All that chatter dug up Olivia’s uncertainty about the fantasy.  Just mentioning to Olivia that whatever she wants now has to be put to the side or at least she has to figure out how to coexist with the demanding wants of the man she loves?  Mmmm hmmmm.  You can see the wheels of her brain turning.  Olivia ain’t really ‘bout that life.  She’s ‘bout HER life ultimately. 

Is that James Ingram and Patti Austin singing quietly in the background while Fitz and Mellie have a heart to heart on the balcony of the White House facing the Lincoln Memorial?  Really?!?  R e a l l y?!?  Where is James, anyways?  “How do you keep the music playing?  How do you make it last?  How do you keep the song from fading too fast?”  Lord.  But wait!  This could easily have been the conversation Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton had on that same balcony in front of that same view when the scandal that was Monica Lewinsky was dominating their lives.  Mmmm hmmmm.  And Hillary is running for President of the United States.  For the 2^nd time!

Did Cyrus really believe Fitz was going to hire him back?  After he picked up his ENTIRE face off the ground thing got clear for good old, Cyrus.  Like, crystal.  He will use his evil ways to plot and scheme the ultimate downfall of the man he wishes he could be.  Right alongside Mellie.

With the deal for Mellie to appear on television with Fitz and deny the entire sordid affair completely up in flames, it’s time for Plan B.  Label Olivia as a ‘ho (in a classy I didn’t say that about her but you did kinda way) and fix this thing, already!  Aretha “I don’t sing in cold venues and cancel tours less that half way through” Franklin’s soulful voice reminded us lovers can foolishly believe they are all they need to get by.  And suddenly Olivia chooses someone other than herself and goes right along with the smear campaign.  She issues ANOTHER directive to Fitz, “Sit there and watch me choose you.” and they cuddle on the couch in the Oval Office and watch the press room explode when Plan B is put firmly in motion. 

Where.   The.  Hell.  Is.  Papa.  Pope?!?

Mr. Come Hell and High Water is visiting with that damn Jake in the penitentiary about the fire in the Louve.  That’s where the hell he is!

Side note:  What is the significance of the high heels in this episode?  Notice how Olivia is not walking through the hallways of the White House with the confidence and authority she usually has?  This time she’s walking slowly.  Uncertainly.  Without great purpose.  Until next week…

There's No Place Like Home. *click click* There's No Place Like Home. *click click*

Anyone that has ever lived in a home where there was unrest, violence, sadness or tension knows the feeling that type of environment can create in one's spirit. Whether you grew up in that kind of home or found yourself in that kind of home as an adult, it's all the same. You are robbed of comfort, joy and peaceful rest in the very place that is supposed to be a sanctuary for you against the chaos that awaits you in the world when you step outside your door. I grew up in a house with that type of energy and remember distinctly saying to myself time and time again, "Man, dang (a favorite word of all hood babies as the perfect substitute for "damn")!  I can't wait 'til I grow up! My house ain't gonna be like this! Nuh uh!" I would spend hours just fantasizing about living alone, being able to care for myself without depending on n'ary other soul, you know?  All I wanted was to feel happy and at peace in a home I created and knew I would protect like my life depended on it.  When I think about it, my good healthy life actually did depend on it.

For the most part, I kept that promise to myself as I grew into my womanhood.  I chose female college roommates carefully and often tucked away many a hurt feeling to keep the peace in the place I called home.  The roommate thing got old for me by the time my college studies were coming to an end and I was desperate for space to grow more independent.  That fantasy of creating a home for myself I thought of often as a child?  Oh, it nagged at me until I was finally able to afford to live on my own.  You would have thought I was moving on up to the east side like Weezie and them, I was so excited for that little studio apartment just for me!  Every single aspect of my home reflected what I needed in the place I would lay my head for several years.  It was immaculate.  It was organized.  It was bright with sunshine streaming through the windows.  And it smelled like a buttery sweet potato pie baking in the oven loaded with vanilla and cinnamon and allspice!  From that cute little affordable studio apartment, to a small one bedroom apartment right down the street and on to an overpriced two bedroom condo I purchased, I have mastered the art of creating a home for myself.  I never imagined the possibility of ever sharing my home again, certainly not with a man I loved and a man that loved me.  I mean, he would have his spot and I would have my place.  Right?  And then love fell upon me... 

The decision to share my home with the man I have chosen to love happened organically (the way he describes our love affair, which I have come to agree with) and without any belaboring.  My anxious nature would not let me be punch drunk crazy in love though, so I put in some work preparing myself mentally for how the move would impact me.  I spent some time in the chair creating plans to manage any difficult feelings I would face living with a man and his adolescent baby girl after having lived alone for nearly 20 years.  Baby, I had no clue how to live with a man!  I was burdened with thinking over and over how I would manage to create a home for a man having not had any example of how a woman meets that need.  I mean, I knew there was more to it besides making room in my closet for his clothes and shoes and shrinking all my girlie stuff to offer space for his manly stuff in the bathroom cabinets and drawers.  Trust and believe that was no easy task, either!  Right when my nerves started to get the best of me, I remembered something Oprah "had said": "Your home should rise up to greet you..."  That was it!  I wanted our home to rise up and greet the man I had chosen to love.  I wanted to nurture a home that would greet that man with acceptance, love, comfort, support and as little judgement as possible.  

There's no place like home...

The move in date came and our lives were officially blended.  We went about this new thing without missing a beat and I figured I was doing a decent job with the creating the home thing.  He didn't complain.  I wasn't miserable trying to meet his needs.  We were good, right?  No way to know that though other than to ask with the periodic check in's we have.  So, one night while we sat outside on our little balcony enjoying the calm night air we just talked. We talked about our journey together so far...the good and bad...and shared what it is about our relationship that makes the other thrive. I told him for me it is the way he settles me. He's consistent. Easy going. And stable. Not very much unnerves this man and if it does, he manages that uneasy feeling well.  With this man I discovered I desperately need that feeling in a lover because I can worry and be anxious through life's twists and turns.  Just that simple offering from a partner improved the quality of my life beyond my imagination.

When it was his turn to share, what he said took me completely by surprise with how simple it was.  I was listening while gazing out at the night sky but looked up to listen more intently when I heard him say, "I like coming home."  That's what makes him thrive in relationship with me?  He said he likes coming home! *swoon*  He likes coming home to the space I fight the insecure and suspicious parts of myself to nurture and maintain for him.  He likes coming home to the peaceful, loving, supportive environment I do my work to have rise up and greet him when he walks through our door every single day.  He likes coming home to the pictures of his family, my family and our family that adorn the shelves, bookcase, nightstands and walls in gold frames that rise up and greet us.  He likes coming home to the live green plants that drape across sturdy wood furniture throughout the home that rise up and greet us (that he doesn't bother to water, by the way but that's another blog).  He likes coming home to the sweet scent of vanilla scented wall plug-ins that waft through the rooms to rise up and greet us.   He likes coming home to the warm and rich color of the walls in every room that nurture a calming energy throughout the home and rises up to greet us.  He likes coming home to the neatly kept rooms with beds made every morning (my mother taught me that) that rise up to greet us when we stumble over our doorstep after a busy day earning our keep.  I create that!  Me...Faith Margaret. And I had no idea he needed and appreciated that. 

Mmmmkay, you might be thinking this is really not a big deal.  Women have made homes for their families since the beginning of time, yes?  But those women were not in my life and I never imagined myself being THAT kind of woman.  And that is what makes this thing remarkable!  Deep within my consciousness I know I want something different for myself.  Something better than what my mother clawed to get for herself but never managed despite her best efforts.  And I know the real work that must be done for me to have what I want rests firmly with me.  At my feet.  I want to share a home that is grounded in love, peace and respect with the man I love.  I want to share a home that wraps people coming to sit a spell with love and a comfort that is palpable.  The fact that I have not fumbled terribly in this organic experience of sharing a home with the man I love is nothing short of a miracle and his gratefulness inspires me to keep at it.  Our home rises up to greet us with all things good and dare I say, Oprah would be proud! 

Dorothy had it right, I guess. There's no place like home. *click click* There's no place like home. *click click*

Would You Mind If We...Spoon?

"Scandalous Thursdays!"

"Hi!  My name is Faith Margaret and I watch Scandal."  I enjoy it.  Thoroughly…and will blog  right here about all new episodes on Thursday nights beginning next week.  Oh!  Your theories about what is happening next in this suspenseful show are welcomed along with my musings.

“Shame needs three things to grow exponentially in our lives: secrecy, silence and judgment.” ~Brene' Brown 

Shame is what this episode is about.  Mmmm hmmmm.  How Olivia finally confronts the actual shame she has felt from the very beginning when she had that first kiss with the man that would be POTUS.  How she has hid from that shame in expensive, fly clothes and finely crafted 5-inch heels.  How she imagined a happily ever after that would lay that shame to rest, finally.   Shame.  Shame.  Shame.    

While Olivia was having the absolute worse day of her life ever that mean, righteous, nasty Sally Langston was relishing in the public discovery of the affair between POTUS and Olivia “…that seductress, Olivia Pope…”  Oh, Olivia.  Time just stops.  Things get quiet.  And then she gets the hell outta dodge leaving the POTUS to defend his choosing Olivia and thwarting all attempts to get him to smother the firestorm that is building.  Bottom line:  He ain’t saying a damn thing ‘til his Boo is right by his side.  Take.  That. 

Olivia jumps into action to try and save herself and who does she find her way to under the cloak of darkness?  That damn, Quinn!  Who on the writing team decided Quinn would be a heroin on this show?!?  She keeps a nasty home, which has to get under impeccably coiffed and dressed Olivia’s skin but Quinn is true to her gangsta self when she answers the door packing a big gun.  Alright, alright, alright…I admit Quinn is ride or die for her boss and will do whatever is necessary but no need.  Olivia has a different plan of managing her own crisis.  Ignore it!  Same old Liv, “I need to work!”  She peels out of her designer labels and throws on drab clothes Quinn has tossed throughout her clutter bedroom.  And she’s off!

Mellie gets wind of the latest drama and goes to her husband, the POTUS and demands he apologize to her for giving her divorce papers.  And then she offers to make things all better by simply denying the love affair.  See, she needs to be in the White House in love with her husband to assure her political future as a senator, “America won’t elect a woman they believe can’t get laid.”  Oooo,  s h a d e!  Is that a dig to Hillary?  I digress.  POTUS believes Mellie gave the pictures to Sally Langston.  Mellie believes POTUS purposefully outed his timeless love affair with Olivia.  It makes no difference anyways, Mellie!  He *clap* don’t *clap* want *clap* you, *clap* Boo *clap* Boo!

New case!  “Upside down, boy you turn me.  Inside out and round and round.”  Older man marries a younger woman and the husband comes up dead.  The older man’s son is missing and he is suspected to be responsible for murdering his father in a slip and fall, so the younger stepmother is concerned about his sudden disappearance.  Well, apparently step monster has been canoodling with some other cat for 5 years and won’t get a dime if she is caught with another man.  Motive?   

Fitz is clear he will no longer hide his love affair with Olivia and intends to move on with his entire life.  The Vice President that babbles and babbles and babbles is clueless.  Until she’s not.  David Rosen is on a mission to get proof that Mellie leaked the photos but we all know it’s not Mellie.  No…that would be too simple.  The POTUS Chief of Staff leaked the photos to Sallie Langston from Mellie’s office.  What does she want, anyways?

Back to Olivia.  Did you catch how Olivia is out doing her business looking…ordinary?  Mmmm hmmmm.  Desperate to blend into the background like ordinary people.  Determined to avoid the admiring eyes of ordinary people watching her move through the world with the “Olivia Strut” (my old man HATES the Olivia Strut, by the way and hasn’t watched one episode in its entirety since he watched her doing the Olivia Strut).  Gone are her fly clothes, replaced with a gray tshirt, jeans, black baseball hat and a hot leather jacket.  A perfect outfit, though for hunting down the stepson that killed his father for money.

Enter Jake coming back to help the woman he is in love with, in her quest to love the man she is in love with.  Pitiful.  Just…pitiful.  And he comes through the doors of “Pope & Associates” with our boy, Huck in tow.  All fixed.  All better.  Huck and Quinn are still beefing, giving each other side eyes and damn near hissing at each other across the room.  They need to get back to doing the nasty already so the team can get back together again.  A reporter finds his way into the offices and can’t take the hint to leave well enough alone.  Quinn jumps in right before Huck disembowels the poor reporter with a Number 2 pencil (‘member those?!?).  Fixed my ass!  So now Quinn interrogates Huck on his ability to be a normal person and makes him so pissy that he bounces.  Ugh!!  Quinn is always doing something! 

Remember these?!?

It’s coming!  Cyrus is slowly making his way back into this tangled web lies.  *applause*  My man misses being in charge and putting folks in their rightful place as he reminds them just who he is. Cyrus is beside himself watching all the various news outlets in his home office on big and small monitors with his grandfather sweaters on or wrapped tightly in his robe.  He is quarterbacking Red’s performance and finds it lacking all around.  FUMBLLLLLLE!!!!  He gives Red a little straightenin’ to itch that scratch he has.  “Be.  The.  Adult.  You want to lead be the leader.  Be the adult!  He’ll become the child.  You are the adult!  He is the child.  And you don’t ask children when bedtime is or if they want to eat their vegetables.  You threaten them and you make them eat those vegetables.”  She ain’t crazy and knows Cyrus is the master at running the White House and the POTUS.  As soon as she can, Red reminds the POTUS that Olivia is going to do what Olivia does (find her way out of whatever corner she’s backed into) and he ought to damn well be prepared.  And the child calls Mellie, apologizes and asks her to come home.  Well played, Cyrus!

Meanwhile, back at the seedy motel Olivia is holed up in. *insert slow clap* Jake is inserting himself into Olivia’s business trying to help her figure out how she is going to have what she wants (which obviously ain’t him!).  She wants the POTUS!  I mean, really?!?  What man does that?  You love this woman beyond anyone’s understanding and you counsel her, comfort her and encourage her to be with the most powerful man on the planet?!?  Who you know you will never measure up to?  *smacking my lips*  That’s some…Harlequin Romance novel kinda mess if I have ever heard of it!  You know what I’m talking about?  Those raggedy little paperback books with the big hunky white men and long blond haired busty white women on the cover in some lusty position that our mamas and their girlfriends would read cover to cover with a cigarette burning in the ashtray before they passed it all worn and ragged along to the next girlfriend?  Yeah…that kinda romance!

First of all, I cannot believe Olivia is laying on that comforter on the bed in that motel.  Ewwwww!  What?!?  So, Jake didn’t have one of those blue light thingies in his coat to scan the comforter for bodily fluids that undoubtedly are all over it before letting his sweet Olivia lay across the bed?  Ewww, ewww, ewww!  I digress.  If Olivia had just listened to her daddy, “Mr. Hell or High Water” himself (who better show up and I mean, damn soon!), she would be on the beach somewhere settled (literally) with poor old Jake.  Mr. Available.  Instead of spooning with Jake on that dirty comforter as a stand-in for the man she really wants to spoon with.  Never mind all of that, though.  It takes the innocent and rambling Vice President to shame the POTUS about this adulterous behavior and utter betrayal of the American people.  “You don’t get to be just like anyone else.  That’s not the job you signed up for.”  He leaves Olivia a message saying he will let her go ‘bout her biz’ness.  Again.  Because he loves her too much to see her unhappy while he gets his happy.  And Mellie is coming back to the White House. 

A little Aretha Franklin to close the show this week, singing about wanting a do right, all night man.  Right as Olivia admits to a throng of crushing press that she is having a Harlequin Romance Novel love affair with the POTUS.  Dressed in that gray tshirt, jeans and hot leather jacket.  Hmph!

How many times have we asked ourselves, “How did I get here?” Until next week…

Let's Try This Again!

"Scandalous Thursdays!"

"Hi!  My name is Faith Margaret and I watch Scandal."  I enjoy it.  Thoroughly…and will blog  right here about all new episodes on Thursday nights beginning next week.  Oh!  Your theories about what is happening next in this suspenseful show are welcomed along with my musings.

Aww, Lawd Jesus!  I am almost afraid to say it for fear it’s just a tease, Father God in Heaven but…

This week’s season opening episode of Scandal was goodie, goodie, goodie, goodie, goodie, good!  Good enough for me to pull out the old MacBook Pro and offer a recap, even!  Chaka Khan belting out the lyrics to, “You’ve Got the Look” in her sassy, funky voice is a damn good way to begin the 5^th season to revive what I believe to be a show that is losing it’s sizzle, it’s magnetism, it’s “Girl, I have to go ‘cuz Scandal is coming on!” appeal.  Here.  We. Go.  

How.  Dare.  She?!?  I mean, the bold faced righteous indignation of the former Vice President, Sally Langston in her commentary about her nemesis, Fitz?  That mean old lady gave a scathing commentary of the elegant dinner President Grant (hereafter referred to as, Fitz) planned for royalty and the american princess, even going so far as to be pissy about a choice of 3 wines.  Riesling?  Chardonnay?  Cabernet Sauvignon?  Who doesn't like options?  Please.  I mean…this is the same woman that killed her

husband after what she knew to be true was cast right before he beady little eyes, for heaven’s sake! The old Cyrus (who we all should hope makes a reappearance and soon) cleaned that mess up for her she climbed right back on her pedestal to look down upon everyone else casting judgment here and there.  Plenty of that coming this election campaign year but I digress.

What An Imagination You Have, Shonda Girl!

Love scenes between Fitz and Olivia just don’t do it for me anymore.  First of all, e’rybody knows most sistah girls ain't getting fully dressed in couture, hair primped just so and makeup flawless only to disrobe for another quick sexual tryst.  Bye, Felicia!  Enough already.  Like, how many times have we seen these two completely exhaust themselves between high thread count quality sheets or on Persian rugs or even atop or against 100 year old antique desks or in media closets against all kind of ether net cords only for Olivia to put a hault to it all?  Wait.  Scratch that.  Those two and their romantic interludes are nothing short of inspiring! *fanning self* 

“Are you back?  You always fix me.”  Huck is still the complicated loving mess he has always been when we find him hunkered down in Olivia’s house waiting to be saved.  But, there is something unsettling about Olivia and Huck’s relationship, you know?  She saved him from being a babbling dirty bum in the subway.  He does whatever she needs him to do including torture bad guys.  She tells him not to do anything too bad though she knows he doesn't have the ability to discern bad versus too bad.  Not Huck.  He does really bad, confirms it's handled and she doesn't care to know the details.  She’s grateful.  And he needs to be fixed again.  Can he live, Olivia?!?  Can Huck just live???  I still am NOT feeling Jake but if he can help our boy, Huck then I guess he’s a’ight.      

Mellie.  Mellie.  Mellie.  *sigh*  Well, at least she’s back to her normal self instead of eating fried chicken (Really?!?) on one of the balconies of the White House while she grieved the untimely death of her son.  Hey, Mellie girl!  Right when she attempts to serve up one of those reads she’s so famous for to Fitz’s Chief of Staff, “I brought your bones back from the political graveyard and performed voodoo to make you somebody again and as payment, you stab me in the back!”  She tried it!  Oh no ma’am.  Ellen’s wifey served her a little straightenin’ of her own with, “…one can only be betrayed if there‘s loyalty.  First, I was never loyal to you and you were never loyal to me.  I don’t think you’ve ever been loyal to anyone.”  *insert blank stare*  Mellie just sits there looking incredulous with her mouth set like she’s eating one of those sour gumball thingies my mother would never let me buy.  Side note…I still can’t figure out where Ellen's wifey came from in the first place. 

With all the dirt Fitz and Mellie have done in pursuit of power, it baffles me how either one of them can say the other is the greater offender.  Who’s keeping score but:  Rigging ballots.  Hiding rapes.  Suffocating Supreme Court Justices.  Allowing a mistress.  Killing folks on planes.  Killing folks on buses.  The list goes on and on.  Fitz serves Mellie with divorce papers and promises to join her in the ruin of both of them (…cuz he ain’t trippin’ as long as he has the prize, Olivia...) should she not sign those papers.  Then he reminds Mellie that her major accomplishment to date is just waiving and smiling so she couldn’t possibly want it with him.  Bastard!  Hell, I was actually mad for Mellie after all of that!  If this was “Empire” Fitz would have caught the obligatory slap across his left cheek with the full force of all 5 stiletto neon painted manicured fingers.  #lovemesomecookie

Creating a story ripped from any number of headlines always worked for Scandal and tonight we reminisced about the tragic death of Princess Diana.  Five seasons in we all but forgot how much we didn’t like Quinn but now she’s like “Lead Gladiator” and should have a badge she wears pinned to her shirt that says so.  Quinn is the only one that shows up to work every day (where is the super fine black cat replacement for Harrison, anyways?!?) and seems to get better and better with each case she helps fix.  Olivia’s so damn clever when she goes about fixing the lives of those in power.  Cue good old David Rosen.  *trumpets blaring*  He still can’t tell Olivia to get the hell out of his office with all that s#!t and he is the United States Attorney General.  He reminds me of the smart kid in elementary school that was always picked last for the kickball team, knew that would be the case and waited to be picked last time and time again.  “Fine!  I’ll take David!”   He come through though with enough information to help Olivia prove the crash of the princess wasn’t an accident after all and then all the pieces come together.  Score for David!

And Olivia behaving like a…woman and confusing Fitz when he attempts to give her what she wants.  What is that?  “The minute the world finds out about us, we stop being you and me and we become a spectacle.  How can we make it work in public when we can barely make it work in private?  I wanna slow down.  I want our business handled.  I want our problems fixed.  I wanna be ready before the world is watching become once it is, once we’re in that spotlight being picked at and scrubbed and stretched in every direction we will never get the chance to make things right if we are broken going in…”  Hmmm…that’s a point.  Makes you wonder if that’s how we all should walk into commitment, huh?  Could this be the thinking behind quiet celebrity romances?  Bey & Jay wrote the book on that one.

B U S T E D!  The cameras are always watching.  “I see you, sir!”  Who took those pictures, though of Olivia sliding in and out of rooms in the White House adjusting ties and whatnot????  Caught Cyrus' attention and just might be enough to get him back in the game.  Put him in, Coach Shonda!  

Shonda got some act right and penned tonight’s episode.  Smart move, girlfriend.  Smart move!  Think she will find a way to introduce a character like Donald Trump?  That would be hilariously fantastic!

Side note:  That black and white coat was bad!  And that pantsuit?!?  Slayed.  Wonder if Limited will carry the Scandal clothing line again this season? 

Side note to the side note:  Is it just me or does Olivia's weave get thicker and thicker with every season?  Must be hell on the neck, though...

Until next week!