“The belief in faith for reasons you can’t explain it is the light you see in the dark” Nefertiti Jones

I recently received an email from a friend of mine. It was the type of email that makes one shiver and although I was running off to work I felt I couldn’t put off responding to her. My friend’s mother has been struggling with a terminal illness that will end her life. Unfortunately, unlike my mother who was not afraid to die, her mother is fearful. I think part of the reason why my mother was ok with checking out early as she so eloquently put, was because her faith was unshakeable. In fact the day she died she had managed to have the priest administer last rights to her three times. The priest later pulled me aside and said:

“Wow I have never seen someone so eager to get to heaven.”

“Yeah, that’s my mother father.” 

My mother’s lack of fear made her passing that much easier on me. However, my friend didn’t grow up with the belief that there was something out there beyond this life. In essence she, her sister and mother did not have faith. So for my friend watching her mother struggle with her own mortality was that much harder.

Now I have never had the level of faith in God, Heaven, Jesus Christ the way my mother did, but what I did have was an innate belief in life. Despite my own childhood which was pretty nuts at times, leaving plenty of room for doubt, for some reason I still managed to see the class half full.

I guess the fact that we had just finished the holiest two weeks in the Christian and Jewish calendar, plus having received my friend’s email, faith and religion were now on my mind. As a child I remember my mother saying to me:

           “Nef, take what you can get from religion and disregard the rest.”

I liked that; it kind of left plenty of room for my so-called sins. Anyway, growing up in Alphabet City in the middle of New York City, clearly meant malls were obsolete. Along with the absence of malls was the absence of chain restaurants, mainly Red Lobster. Oh how I dreamed about those succulent lobster tails dipped in a bowl of hot butter. The limitless amount of shrimps grilled, baked, battered and fried. The crab claws, bowls of pasta, which of course were always served by happy smiley waiters. I used to stampede out of my bedroom; flying over my cat Dorcas to watched the Red Lobster commercials as a kid.

“Mom why can’t we go to Red Lobster, why?”

            “Nef we don’t have malls in New York City.” 

Thank God for small blessings she would mutter under her breath.

“Besides the foods horrible Nef"

            “How would you know,” I yelled.

But she did know she grew up in the Suburbs, a magical place, where the streets were lined with Red Lobsters. However, as the years past and I grew up, I found myself appreciating New York City and its fine seafood restaurants. I was glad that I lived in a city, that we didn’t have malls and mall food, but rather Individual mom and popshops and four-star restaurants. And yet, deep down inside my longing for Red Lobster gnawed at me. I just knew my mother was wrong. When a Red Lobster finally opened up in Time Square my husband and our mutual friends, Alanna and Eric asked if I wanted to go.

            “No, it’s not the same it has to be in the Suburbs near a mall, to be true.” I bitched.

So three more years would pass, and despite everyone telling me that the food sucked, that it was frozen and why would a restaurant snob like me want to go to Red Lobster, I did not falter in my belief. Besides the commercials were relentless and I knew with every fiber of my freaking being, Red Lobster would Rock!

Then it came, April 19th, 2011. We were driving to Jimi’s parent’s house in Pennsylvania for a visit and Jimi told me we were going to Red Lobster. I think the heavens parted in that moment. I talked about it the whole drive down, what I would eat, who we should call, did his parents have a camera to take a photo of me.

“Oh and you can’t order the Surf and Turf platter because I don’t eat meat and I want to be able to try your dinner as well. I said.

 “Yeah, yeah whatever you want Nef.”

We strolled into Red Lobster on a cloudy, raining Tuesday afternoon. Yes afternoon, Jimi’s parents like to eat dinner at 4:00. As we entered the restaurant there to the left of us was a fish tank with real live lobsters. “Ah, ha! I told you Red Lobster has fresh lobster.” I blurted out. Never mind the fact that the poor lobsters were on top of each other and that they were probably there for show, the fact is I saw real live lobsters! Yes, one step closer to fulfilling a life long dream. No sooner then we sat down our waitress Marcie showed up and said:

            “Hi you all, my name is Marcie and I am going to be your waitress.”

 Jimi’s Dad immediately chimed in and said:

“Hi Marcie can you tell your manager Wendy, that the Koviloff family has arrived.”

The Koviloff family, is he kidding? You would think we had just arrived at the Wardolf Astoria. But two minutes later, a cheerful Wendy came over.  After introducing herself to us, Jimi’s Dad said:

“Wendy, we spoke earlier on the phone today. I told you about my son and daughter in-law, the ones from New York City.”

           “Oh yes, yes the musicians, wow so nice of you to come all the way here for dinner.”

By now Jimi was trying to crawl under the table from embarrassment, while I sat there beaming like a kid in a candy store. Wendy left, Marcie returned and we ordered! I got the mega seafood platter with everything included. Shrimp, lobster, crab, salad, baked potato, MY GOD, how my mother was wrong. Huge portions of food, with unlimited biscuits, I have never had unlimited anything and now here at Red Lobster I had biscuit after biscuit. Cheesy, buttery, piping hot lobster biscuit, “God Dam,” I moving to the Suburbs.

We left that magical place fat, content and exhausted!

You see my old friend faith is just a word. It is the action behind the word that carry’s the real weight. I needed to believe in something as silly as Red Lobster because it somehow represented that picket fence I had spent half my life chasing after. Red Lobster turned out to be everything I ever wanted and more. My mother believed with all her heart it was her time to die and despite the fact that the doctors told me and my step dad that my mother would be fine and that they were sending her home the next day, she died several hours later.

Perhaps sometimes we just need to believe in something with all of our heart. So as I said earlier,

“It is the belief in faith for reasons we can’t explain, it is the light we see in the dark.”

Till than my fabulous women make sure you believe in something that fills you with faith, even if it is just the belief in the sand beneath your feet.

XO

Nef

Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely, in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting “Holy shit, what a ride!”

Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely, in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting “Holy shit, what a ride!”

~ Mavis Leyrer

The fact that I grew up with a father who lived in a tent in the middle of our living room, which he called his pyramid while trying to transport himself back to Egypt, pretty much guaranteed I wasn’t strolling in anywhere unscathed. No, I am definitely going to be one of those people crashing into heaven with a shit load of cuts and bruises, upside down, yelling holy shit I need a drink. 

So with April 7th, the night of my show almost upon me it came as no surprise to me I was becoming anxious. For starters the event was called Hottie Rock, cleverly named by my husband Jimi Bones. Number two for those of you who missed my blog several weeks ago, Hottie Rock consisted of me being sandwiched between Hottie number one who was twenty three and Hottie number two who was twenty-six, which I came to realize that if you added their two ages together and minus a few years you would have me. Yeah, so as April 7th approached I went out to find the perfect outfit. I had my trusty friend Jessica with me for moral support and feed back as we pushed our way through Filene’s basement in search of perfection. Jess was on fire as she pulled dress after dress from the racks. We even scored, so we thought, an orange Jumpsuit, a total throw back to Diana Ross, which by the way looked amazing on the hanger and not so amazing on my thighs. But alas we found an army green silk low back dress. The dress had metal chains for straps and a drop waist, which we paired with a copper chain belt. A pair of feathered earrings, with some strappy heels finished off the outfit and I was Rock Star Ready!

The night of the show our friend Pete came by the house to pick Jimi and I up along with our three guitars, two amps, cable chords, guitar stands, and cheat sheets. “For God Sake will someone tell The Bitter End to get a back-line?” I waited till the last minute to put on my new outfit for fear of wrinkling up the fabric and to add a little drama to my presentation. I sauntered into the living room feeling AWESOME as I presented myself. Silence....Ah yes, Pete and Jimi just stood there looking quizzical. 

“Hmm, wow, so this is what you are wearing tonight?” Jimi said.

“ Yes, isn’t it so Rock and Roll?”

“ So, you picked that out with Jessica?” 

“ Who’s Jessica” Pete asked

“ She’s the principal of the school we volunteer at.”

“ Oh, she went out with the principal to buy a rock and roll outfit.”

“What, what you don’t like it?” I blurted out

      “NOOOOOOO, I love it honey. I mean if we were going to dinner at a fancy restaurant, where they serve expensive food on tiny little plates while listening to Jazz in the background your outfit would be perfect.” 

Ok, seeing that Jimi comes from the school of Punk, toured with Joan Jett, Kix and Blondie I had a feeling he might have a point, clearly I was wearing "adult evening wear". “Shit, what am I suppose to wear now?” Have no fear Jimi Bones is here! Within five seconds flat he had me in a naughty schoolgirl skirt with a striped tight shirt I had worn the night before to the Broadway show, American Idiot, and super high black boots. Oh yea, I got to keep the feather earrings on. I looked hot! Damnit he was right, perhaps I should appear on a TLC episode of  “What not to wear."

We arrived at the club around 8:00 and pushed our way through the crowd making our way to the dressing room. Dressing room, yeah more like a beer storage room with an ice machine, several broken chairs and one mirror that had been completely graffittied over. As I waited for Hottie Rock night to begin I could hear a different act go on, she was young I mean barely legal-young. She had long blonde hair, green eyes and kind of looked like Taylor Swift so I was expecting country pop music. What I got was Baby Taylor Swift cranking out tunes like Strange Fruit by Billy Holiday. Wow, she was awesome. After Strange Fruit she broke out into a speech about why she felt it was important that everyone in the audience write letters, makes phone calls telling our congressman not to cut federal funding to Plan Parent Hood. Go figure?

It was time for Hottie Rock. Our good friend Marvin was the MC of the night he also was our heckler. Of course he saved that special gift for me. First up was our Latin Hottie who wore shorts so short her butt cheeks were hanging out. And by the way the only thing better than her butt cheeks was her Mary Tyler Moore over-sized floppy brown hat. I just kept waiting for her to fling it up in the air and sing, “were going to make it after all”. She didn’t, however, she did give us a balls out show-stopping performance singing two of her originals pop songs, and considering it was her second or third performance ever, she gave it!

Next up Jonesbones, Hottie Rock number two, and you know what, I was Hot and I F______in' Rocked, Hard! And as I stomped around stage singing the lyrics to the Nefertiti Jones song,  

“I jumped up and down on my bed all day and I screamed till the walls almost cracked. I drove my mama insane but it was all in my NAME I was destined and I never looked back.

I knew that I had arrived in the right place at the right time and I was in for the ride of my life. 

Jonesbones even managed to get a standing ovation in the middle of our song Broken Dolls. 

Last up Hottie number three, our Irish bombshell from Queens, actually not sure if she is from Queens but kind of had that Queens vibe wore leather pants and a tiny tank top. Her style was more Broadway than Rock but she had a wit to her lyrics that held the audience non-the less. In fact the four hot male school teachers from Jess’s school sitting in the front row were yelling and cheering the whole way through her remake of Sexual Healing. 

It was a sold out night. So packed that several people found it to crowded to get in. A night consisting of a half black half white woman singing Rock. A Taylor Swift look-a-like singing old blues, a Latin Hottie dressed like a cross between the Kardashians and Mary Tyler Moore singing Pop and an Irish looking girl from Queens singing Broadway, go figure. 

Even cooler than what was on stage was the packed house in front of us. An audience as young as 21, and as old as 70. A mixture of Black, White, Latin, Arab and a Chinese kid with seriously curly hair he swears he developed when he left China and moved to America. We had Mohawks and Tattoos, aging hippies, punk rockers, homeboys and Mary Poppins all crammed into one room on a misty Thursday night in the middle of the  Village, and it suddenly dawned on me, are we in the greatest city ever? Or is it because we are artists, although not everyone in the audience were artists. Is it because we are a young country the melting pot of the world? Or is it because we as women had evolved over the years and are no longer limited to baking cookies on the sideline watching life happen without us. 

Regardless of the reasons, no one that night would ever be the type to politely stroll into Heaven. No this crowd was the type that would be screaming and kicking down doors and I was glad to be a part of it all. 

Till next week my fabulous women make sure to do something worth talking about ten years from now!

XO 

Nef

"Life is hard. After all, it kills you." Katharine Hepburn

I think it is safe to say that GYN is a necessary evil that we all have to face. I am not sure if you are like me, but getting ready for GYN is like getting ready for a date. Between trimmings down there, lathering up and baby powdering you would think I was getting a little action. 

So as I got ready for my date/ GYN appointment I went through my mental list of things to talk to Doctor Weiss about. Number one, “Doctor Weiss, I am not sure if its because I have put on a lot of weight in a short amount of time but the fat between my underarm and breast feels unusually swollen.” Number two, “can we do a fertility test?” And three, “I know you have to weigh me but I have no desire to see the number.”

I finished getting dressed, grabbed some money and a bottle of water and made my way to the bus station. It was pouring rain, of course it was. My hair was tightly tucked under my hat so as not to ruin my silky soft, Farrah Faucet hairdo. I was going straight to a full band rehearsal after GYN and wanted to make sure that I walked in looking like a ROCK STAR! Between my sexy brown honey locks, fabulous make-up and badass high, uncomfortable boots I was set. I hoped on a crowded bus bound for the Upper East Side and managed to arrive to my appointment with twenty minutes to spare.

After taking a seat with my clip board of questions the nurse had handed me to fill out, I found myself trying to sit up as straight as possible for fear of bed bugs. Yes, for my San Francisco friends who might not know this, New York has been bombarded by an epidemic of bed bugs leaving one fearful of sitting on any type of cushiony seats. Of course being a neurotic, hypochondriac probably didn’t help matters, which might explain why it didn’t register that the nurse had called my name three times, as though somehow Nefertiti Jones is such a common name in the Upper East Side it would be easy to ignore.

The doctor’s room was typical. Sterile, white, with a large nickel-plated scale, jars containing rubber gloves and cotton balls, and oh yeah the “Dreaded Stir-Ups”. Damn you, you would think in 2011 they would have come up with a better system, but no, as if the scale wasn’t traumatic enough the “Stir—Ups” awaited me. 

The nurse handed me a gown instructed me to take everything off and to wear the gown with the opening facing forward. I had been through this drill enough in my life where I could have my clothes off and into my robe in two minutes flat. The nurse however, didn’t come back for almost twenty minutes, which she admitted while laughing, that she had forgotten about me and was chatting with the receptionist up front.

I graciously accepted her apology, as I was far more concerned with explaining to her how I had put on a significant amount of weight in the past 14 months and did not want to know how much I weighed. “Well how much did you used to weigh,” She asked. “132lbs,” I told her. After promising not to reveal my weight to me I stepped on the scale, closed my eyes and held my breath, as though somehow holding my breath would make me lighter.

“Wow, you should really start exercising,” she said

Hmmm, the fact that the nurse felt so compelled to tell me that I should start exercising was clearly not a good sign. She then proceeded to tell me that if I took Zumba, which she actually began to demonstrate some of the moves for me, I could burn up to 1000 calories per hour. Fuck now; there is no way I am getting into those stir-ups.

Fortunately, Doctor Weiss arrived and instantly put me at ease with her genuine smile, and relaxed attitude. She congratulated me on my recent birthday, did a thorough breast examine, which she quickly let me know, that she felt absolutely NO abnormal lumps, phew. And told me that it was the perfect time to take a fertility test because I had just gotten over my period.

Assume the position. “Lay back, stick your feet in the stir-ups and scouch your behind all the way down the table, closer, closer, like your almost about to fall off. Now this is going to feel like a little pressure.”

Yeah no shit, as she inserts the “CLAMP”, that’s what I like to call it.

So there I am lying on my back, legs spread like a soaring eagle and she asks:

             “So how’s your day going?”

 “Oh it’s fine I guess, I can’t complain.” 

 “Any plans this weekend?”

 “No nothing special, a movie and dinner with my husband.”

A movie and dinner are you kidding me? I never go to movies, and as far as my husband he has gigs all weekend so no such luck in the dinner department. But I really couldn’t think of anything else to say on the fly. Fortunately she was done before I had to think up a movie I was going to see.

Anyway, I left Doctors Weiss office feeling a little heavier, but relived I didn’t have a lump, feeling a little hopeful about getting pregnant but soar from the clamp.

Perhaps Katherine’s statement, "Life is hard. After all, it kills you." in some respects is true, but despite having to go to GYN, I think Katherine might have been a bit over zealous in her description of life. Bottom line ladies, it’s nice to know that in 2011 we now have the option of seeing a female doctor instead of a man. It is also nice to know that in 2011, women are able to have a career, run for presidency and almost win, have babies or not and look good while doing it all. In 2011, abortions are legal, there are more test to detect early breast cancer, cervical cancer and a whole host of other problems. It is also nice to know in 2011 we have birth control options and unlike our mother’s generation, we can walk into our local Duane Reed and purchase a box of condoms free of ridicule and harassment.

Therefore, Katherine, although life may be hard at times it is certainly worth it!

So like the Virgin Slim ads used to say: “You’ve come a long way baby”

Till next week my fabulous women!