Mastodawn

💝 A sneak peek at yesterday's Mother's Day portraits event, with a few more here: https://zorz.it/mamaslove

#MothersDay #gift #MothersDayGift #MothersDayPortraits #FreeMiniSessions #FreePortrait #ClientAppreciation #MomAndMePhotos #ZorzStudios #PoconosPhotographer #PoconosFamilyPhotography #Poconos #PoconoMountains #PoconosFun #PoconosFamily #MonroeCounty #PikeCounty #PikeCountyPhotographer #MonroeCountyPhotographer #MilfordPA #DingmansFerry #MotherhoodCaptured

Zorz Studios May 4

🌷📸 Free #MothersDay portraits! Mama’s Love is back for its 10th iteration, this year at our #Poconos branch. We’re treating our clients, welcoming neighbors with a friendly discount, and inviting any mom to come see what Zorz Studios can offer. Celebrate motherhood with a fresh portrait and a little spring magic: https://zorz.it/mamaslove

#MothersDayGift #MothersDayPortraits #FreeMiniSessions #ClientAppreciation #MomAndMePhotos #ZorzStudios #PoconosPhotographer #MotherhoodCaptured

Just Sherring May 1

Celebrating My Birthday Month & Homeownership at a Mansion

April is coming to an end. Stealing December’s moniker: it’s the most wonderful time of the year.

My birth month.

Yup. Month. Not just birthday.

Yes, I am one of those. Is it a Taurus thing?

I come from a family where birthdays are a big deal. We don’t celebrate all month, but it’s acknowledged. Children get new outfits for school, if it falls on a school day. While the party is pushed to the weekend, a small cake may be cut the day of.

Adults get new threads, too. Most of us take the day off from work. I take off the twenty-second and the twenty-third—the anniversary of a near-fatal car crash 20 years ago.

Perhaps that’s when I started the foolery of celebrating all month long. Justifying purchases by saying, “It’s my birthday month.”

A few years ago, I started taking solo birthday trips. DC, Salt Lake City, Houston. Last year, I was in the midst of purchasing my home, so I had to stay put. For my staycation, I rented a Brooklyn hotel room, so I wouldn’t be home-home.

There, in my overcharged room, I had visions of waking up the following year in my new home, as a homeowner.

Betcha by golly wow! Shout out to The Stylistics and Prince. I did it.

Last Wednesday, I woke up in my one-bedroom co-op in Brooklyn, one of three apartments I viewed the day after my birthday last year. It was also about a week after I learned I lost another.

This month also marks my sixth-month anniversary of homeownership.

I was hours behind schedule for my road trip to the Poconos, not because I’d been fielding birthday calls but because I hadn’t finished packing. The night before, while folding laundry, I fell asleep. I woke up on my couch, on my laundry.

Selling my car when I moved to Brooklyn nearly 17 years ago was mainly a financial reason. NYC is a pedestrian-friendly city. Public transportation easily takes you everywhere. Just pack a book and headphones. Massachusetts drivers are called Massholes, but I couldn’t see myself dealing with the road rage of aggressive New Yorkers.

I keep my license current to drive when I go home to Boston, but those drives are short. Picking up and dropping off my aunt at work so I can use her car to make my rounds to visit other family members. Older Haitians don’t give a damn about my plans. I’m often tasked with store runs or going to another family member’s house to pick up or drop off something, often food.

I’m good and grown but can’t say no.

I missed long drives when I could play music and think. Only recently did it dawn on me that I can rent a car and go on a road trip…as the driver. Sounds obvious, but the thought never entered my head. Family members do it all the time. My brother and I rented a U-Haul in November to transport my mother’s dining table and chandelier to my home.

My credit card has been on fire for the past few months and will continue to be for the next few, so I didn’t think it fiscally responsible to take a birthday trip.

Who was I kidding? It’s my birthday.

The Poconos has been on my Life To-Do List for a while. It was a sign when a friend went to a Black woman-owned Bed & Breakfast in the Poconos—the same one I’d been eyeing, but thought unattainable to me. I learned about it after visiting the sister Bed-Stuy Akwaaba mansion several times for book events hosted by Kweli Journal.

We make money to spend it. I booked the Mansion at Noble Lane in Pennsylvania. Not wanting to be restricted by Amtrak’s schedule, I hopped on Expedia to rent a car. They gave me a gray Toyota Carolla. My second and last car was a Carolla.

My first was a Honda Civic. BST. Blood, Sweat and Tears. I worked multiple jobs the summer between freshman and sophomore years of college to buy that hoopty. She got me from points A to B until I crashed her into a guardrail after hitting black ice. I couldn’t afford the repair costs and had to let her go.

Next rental will be an SUV. I’m used to being up high in my aunts’ Jeeps. My father had a Cherokee when I was a kid. I don’t know how I would’ve maneuvered through the tight Holland Tunnel (my first time!) in an SUV, but an SUV might’ve prevented me from blasting into the 80s. Several times I was doing 60 mph in a 45 or 80+ in a 55 without even knowing it. Grateful I never saw flashing lights in the rearview mirror.

Pulling up to the grounds of The Mansion at Noble Lane was breathtaking. Down south, it would’ve been a plantation. The treelined road gave way to the beautiful, white mansion. I nearly burst into tears.

Monique, the proprietress, had a beautiful salt-and-pepper side-parted afro. I introduced myself with an extended hand.

“I’m a hugger,” rejecting my hand and pulling me in. Tears threatened to fall again.

She called me out on arriving hours after my proclaimed 4 pm arrival.

“Yeah…I had a bit of a late start.” I didn’t leave home for my 11 am car pickup until nearly 1 pm.

She lived in Bed-Stuy (my old hood) when she wasn’t at the Mansion. My visits to the Brooklyn location was among the topics of discussion as she gave me a tour through the dining room, theater room, puzzle room, sitting rooms, elevator, sauna, ballroom, spa, tennis court, and other amenities.

Knowing it was my birthday, she upgraded my small, but lovely, corner room to an even bigger and lovelier room with views of the poolhouse. Room 204’s bathroom was larger than my apartment’s.

During “orientation,” Monique told me about nearby restaurant Native, where I could have my birthday dinner.

I’m neither a planner, nor researcher. I’m also spoiled by NYC hours. I emerged from my room after 8:30. The restaurant closed at 8. Monique had called and texted me. My phone was on vibrate while I luxuriated under the rain showerhead and made the bathroom walls sweat.

Monique was more disappointed than I was that I wouldn’t be able to show off my birthday ‘fit: a black and white tweed patchwork asymmetrical gigot long-sleeve blouse paired with navy pants. Instead of my usual Converse, I donned black patent-leather heels. I did look good. She was my photographer for a photoshoot in different rooms.

Thanks to the hair appointment before mine running three hours over the night before, my hair was styled in simple double French braids. Two side braids led into them, and two braids adorned with large and small wooden beads hung down my chest.

Monique Googled nearby restaurants and bars so I could pick up dinner. We struck out with most. I was unfazed.

I spent more time trying to connect my phone’s Bluetooth to the car than the eight-minute drive to Twisted Rail Tavern. It claimed it was connected, but the map wasn’t appearing onscreen in the car. I’d had the same issue during rental pick-up. In my frustration, I had the attendant fix the issue rather than teach me. Somehow, I did it, but in the short time it took me to run into the bar, everything had reset, so once again I sat in the car and struggled.

I have no sense of direction. I need GPS.

Not to sound bougie, but I’m used to cars having GPS, not having to connect via Bluetooth. Hell, I was ecstatic when I upgraded to a smart TV and retired my ChromeCast.

Monique ate a wrap I picked up, and I had terrible wings in the theater room while watching true crime on ID Channel. I surmised, and she agreed, that the wife orchestrated the husband’s murder. Indeed, she did, thinking she’d inherit his insurance money, which went to his only daughter. She was having an affair with the ex-con she got to do the hit.

Monique went to bed before I did, requesting I turn off the TV and place the remote on the entertainment center before heading to my room.

That, dear reader, is how I spent my birthday. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. I loved it.

The next morning, Birthday #2, I donned a colorful caftan (sweet-talked from an aunt to scoop from her hamper) to breakfast on quiche, biscuit, sausage, and hibiscus tea before my CBD soak and 90-minute massage. Monique arranged for chilled sparkling cider and prosecco to be waiting for me. The fireplace had a real fire going.

After my services, I sprawled in one of four chaises in a mostly glass room, wrapped in a soft, gray Akwaaba robe (naked underneath), still sipping on bubblies, reading Harlem Rhapsody by Victoria Christopher Murray, and napped. Rinse, lather, repeat.

I wanted to visit Known Grove, a nearby indie bookstore before dinner at Native, so I forced myself to get dressed and head out.

Before wrestling with GPS to head into Honesdale again, I walked the mansion grounds, taking photos of a small fountain, a double swing, oversized chessboard. I reveled in the grounds’ beauty and the sun warming my skin. So peaceful.

The few customers at Known were finishing up. It was just the salesgirl, the cat and me. I purchased a 3-pack of mini-notebooks and used copies of Blacktop Wasteland by S.A. Cosby and The Many Lives of Mama Love by Lara Love Hardin. I also bought a magnifying sheet because: 47. I’ve been wearing glasses since second grade.

Native was within walking distance of the bookstore, but I drove to park closer to the restaurant. It was getting later and darker, and I was in an unknown town.

At first, they tried to seat me at the bar, but I requested a table. There was a smaller seating area upstairs, like a loft. I had the space to myself. Perfect for people-watching diners below and for reading the fictionalized novel about the true affair between W.E.B. DuBois and his mistress Jessie Redmon Fauset.

My server said most people didn’t finish the braised rib mac ‘n cheese dish, but I did. I couldn’t finish the tiramisu that I requested she bring with a candle. Before I left, she told me she refused to let others be seated in my area so as “not to disturb my vibe” and that I inspired her to take a similar trip for her upcoming birthday. That touched me.

I marveled at the beautiful sky and its clouds in the darkening sky driving back. I pulled over a few times to snap photos of it and my beloved moon. I beat back the fear of the dark, unlit, narrow roads. This was the kind of darkness in Sinners. I was half expecting Cornbread to emerge and encourage me to “be kind to one another.”

It was still early-ish—not yet 9 pm, but I scrapped my plans to see You, Me and Tuscany, starring Halle Bailey and Regé-Jean Page. I did that after dropping off the car the next day.

My last morning was bittersweet, only because my fairytale getaway was ending. I joined in singing Happy Birthday to another diner when Monique emerged with a sparkler on the French toast. I was reading and laughed when she returned, doing the same for me. She wanted me to have a proper sendoff.

Diners at the other two tables exited for their day’s plans. Monique pulled up a chair to chat. I learned about her previous career: former immediate editor of Essence, after Susan L. Taylor. THE magazine I’ve been reading since high school!

Noting my love of reading by the book I carried around and seeking a nearby bookstore, she wasn’t surprised to hear my favorite section was the book column by Patrik Henry Bass before it was eliminated. She knew I knew what I was talking about when I said “Patrik without a C.” My jaw dropped when she whipped out her phone and read me a recently received text from him!

We talked about the differences between book and magazine publishing. She told me about her daughter, whom she said I reminded her of, from the solo birthday trips to attending Emerson and New School. I now follow her daughter’s businesses on Instagram.

We hugged like old friends. The drive back to Brooklyn seemed quicker. Before I realized it, I passed the diner I had stopped into in Newtonville, New Jersey, during the drive up.

I loved everything about my birthday. I love and am grateful I was able to do this for myself. I’m grateful for all the calls, texts, DMs, voice notes I received. I’m grateful for another year.

I am grateful.

#April #birthday #BlackOwned #Books #Driving #family #Homeownership #life #love #memoir #Poconos #reading #RoadTrip #SelfCare #SmallBusiness #SoloTrip #Taurus #writing

Alvin Ashcraft 🐿️Apr 29

TechBash 2026 Keynotes and Workshops Announced Yesterday

https://vlqh-zgpm.campaign-view.com/ua/SharedView?od=3z5b1449310f71294fafc3d35955582e56a7fc9cec01fb440bc3cc8ba398aa18db&cno=129de782f264be&cd=1e7349b985a3174b&m=0

#devconference #developers #kalahari #nepa #poconos #dotnet #aspnetcore #ai #threatmodeling #communication #kubernetes #cloud #career

TechBash 2026 Keynotes and Workshops Announced 📣

Zoho Campaigns

techbash Apr 28

Check out this year's keynotes and workshops! Register by June 19th for early bird discounts and ask us about sponsorship opportunities.

https://zc.vg/b7uay?m=0

#devconference #developers #nepa #poconos #kalahariresort #learning #ai #kubernetes #dotnet #aspnetcore #threatmodeling #communication #dotnetmaui #blazor #javascript

TechBash 2026 Keynotes and Workshops Announced 📣

Zoho Campaigns

techbash Apr 27

Workshop and keynote decision emails are going out this week. We're still finishing the rating and selection of 60-minute sessions and will select those in the next few weeks.

Congratulations to the TechBash 2026 workshop and keynote speakers! Watch for an announcement soon.

#techbash #devconference #poconos #kalahari #nepa #devcommunity