I LOVE YOU

This won't be a very long blog. I really don't have much to add to it. The photo I found online of this beautiful American soldier saying good bye, or perhaps hello to the one person she loves more than anyone probably - - is enough.

To the men and to the women who serve in this great nation for the protection of myself, and my family - saluting you is simply not enough. I love you. I wanted you to know that. Thank you.

To my own son, perhaps the one soldier who may never realize how much of an impact he has made on me - - I love you. Thank you.

Godspeed to every single one of you.

Scorpio, Oh Scorpio - - Sting Lightly Tonight

I found this little tidbit on the internet about what a man should know if he's thinking of dating a Scorpio woman. There are many of these pieces of information out there, one doesn't have to seek hard or look very long to find them. Please, pay attention - - Scorpios are not Leos, we are not haughty, we are what we are -- intense. We are not boastful, we are what we are - - correct. We are not always beautiful to look at, but why is that you find yourself unable to look away? Because a Scorpio woman may not allow you to...we are what we are: in control. I don't know the author of this piece, but it was nice. Please enjoy. 

 "The first step you have to take with the Scorpio woman is to resist her look intensely fixed on the "prey". You can even blink at her with complicity and let her understand you have walked into her trap. She will go round and hunt you slowly, like any other "predator" animal that knows you only have a few more days to live after the direct contact. She will chase you with so much passion and perseverance that if she were to set you free, you would miss the vigour of life. You allow her to catch you and to keep you so that you may be full."

Grow King Grow

LOOK at the difference that just 4 weeks made in the growth of this puppy! I wanted to do thsi so that you could see it - - I knew it would be a big difference and I just find it amazing to see it in photographs. I tried to get them to sit up straight, and believe me, that's not the easiest thing to do. I don't know that I will continue to take photos of these two sitting side by side, sometimes it's easier to get their pictures when they're standing or wrestling each other. I have to tell you - - Rupert was really a very smart little Dachshund to establish his place as Beta dog before this one came along. Matrix of course is Alpha. (Faith is the Queen)

Some of the more really interesting things that King is doing now that he wasn't able to do 4 weeks ago is to demand things. When he first came home he was quiet and let the world roll on by him - - he was basically observant, he was obedient to the forces around him and he was certainly willing to take all the abuse and instruction put upon him by both Rupert and Matrix - - I don't think Faith paid all that much attention to King except when he walked a little too close to her food, or tried a little too hard to chew one of her rawhides. She can be the Diva when called upon and even today - 4 weeks later, King is infatuiated with Faith. He follows her around like...well, like a puppy! He walks around her, bounds around her, and he barks to let her know he wants her attention -- sometimes she gives it to him, but most of the time she just ignores him. I think it's her way of establishing her regalness. LOL

King demands to be put up onto the beds now. In a week or so he'll simply step up from the ground and he'll be on top - - today he'll lean himself over and bark at me early in the morning. King sleeps with Caity all night, but when she lets him out to pee pee he will always come to my room and demand to be loved on before he returns to her. I can't remember the last time I slept all night, but that's not King's fault - - that's Reuben's fault, Laura's fault, (rarely Caity's fault after Midnight) and it's the train's fault - - here in Gainesville we have a train that rolls through town 2 times each night betwee 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. Infact, when it doesn't come through I wake up because it didn't come through. I start wondering if everyone and everything is OK - - should I call someone? The train didn't come tonight!

King will probably be over 150 pounds when he's finished growing and I'm more than sure he'll be one of those sloppy, slobber-throwing St. Bernard mixes - - he's practicing now. He's got all the grace of a new giraffe on ice. I love the fact that King's eyes are bright and brilliant blue - - he seems to be uniquely sweet and those eyes make him uniquely distinctive too. I don't usually tell my kids they can bring large breed dogs home - - I'm usually the one stressing the smaller types - - i.e. the Dachshunds in my life, and the Chihuahuas we fostered for years, but Caity has always wanted a St. Bernard. This one is a good one. We have great plans for him. He will not only be trained to be in movies, you may have suspected since I'm a producer, but he will also be trained as a military therapy dog. I hope he helps thousands of recovering soldiers to find their strength and courage to train and continue their rehab...King will be a KING.

Buy Me That Tank Mom, No, THAT One!

Baby Boy (Reuben) was only 3 and in truth he was 5 days from his 3rd birthday. We were at the store and I had a plan to buy him a nice Tonka truck for his birthday. Naturally I wanted him to walk through the toy aisle and see what he wanted. I would come back later that day and buy it probably, and put it under the bed in a box until his 3rd birthday on March 22. I was also 8.5 months pregnant with Laura and wasn't in the mood to argue with him when he was being over zealous about a particular toy tank that he wanted. (and Army men to go with it. 

Over the years I have seen my son pretending to be in the Army in the backyard - - and he's been in every one of these plastic men's positions.) Not only was the tank cheap looking it looked like it could have some sharp edges to it too and I didn't want my little boy to get hurt playing with it. (The thought that Tonka trucks are heavy and metal didn't enter my mind obviously) So there we were looking at the tanks. There were a few of them, and I made some sort of small talk about maybe getting it in a few days for his birthday - - and that was all it took! The sound-off was rather deafening. He WANTED that tank, and he wanted it NOW. 

Like I said, I was a bit pregnant and waddling around the store with back pain and didn't need another pain in my butt, so I picked up the tank I thought he wanted. "NO Mommy, buy me THAT tank" and he pointed to the one with the big star on the side of it. He already knew it was the American tank. I don't know how he knew that, but he knew that. He said it over and over to me in the car on the way home - - "This one is the American tank." I get it. No, really son, I get it! I think I sent someone to the store later to get the Tonka too, but over the next few days I didn't see my son without his tank. He took it to church. He took it to the daycare. He took it to the neighbors when they had a BBQ and he didn't ask if he could join, he just joined. Reuben does that now too - - shows up, grabs a plate, helps himself, and gets involved in whatever the table is talking about. When he was in High School he ate his lunch, then the people around him knew they could and should shovel their extras over to his plate - - if they didn't shovel he would dig. Five days of tank-loving, tank-sleeping, tank-playing, and tank-whispering led me to take the Tonka truck back to the store and exchange it for a few more tanks with STARS on them. 

 I brought them home, he was thrilled. He played and he played, but about an hour into it he looked up and said "Can we go get the other one so they can blow it up?" I asked why he didn't just pretend to blow up the tanks he had. The look on his face was priceless - - it was as if I had become the enemy immediately - - "MOMMY, you don't blow up the Americans!" OK..I get it. No, seriously son, I get it. Sometimes just for fun, because Reuben grew up and learned 99.99999% of everything that took place in the Civil War, I will ask someone to look Reuben in the eyes and make a stupid statement about Gettysburg or Shiloh. I do it to see THAT face again. I absolutely love the look he gives when he's been slapped cold with what he KNOWS to be utter ignorance - - but he's too polite to say "What are you, stupid?" He just stares at you for 2 seconds, then when you smile he relaxes. He knows you were kidding. I had Laura ask him once who won the Revolutionary War.....that was funny!

 Tanks it is! 20 years later on the Greenest of days, (St. Patrick's Day) he is tanking around in a Stryker. He is driving them, sitting on them, dismounting them, and parking them in places where the sun does shine -- and the Lord is watching very closely I assume. I pray for his safety today, his wisdom, and I hope in 5 days he gets at least one piece of cake, a little wish, and that he feels a birthday hug from me. 20 years ago I should have bought him a play bank or something. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I AM SOOO Proud of my Baby Caity!!! YES!

OK, OK, I had to throw in this particular picture because she's hugging on a great looking man. His name is Denton Blane Everett. He's the lead in a few movies including our new film "FAITH", and another Timber Creek Production, "Rockabilly Baby". I'm not proud of Caity for hugging on Denton - - well, yeah OK I am, but that's not why I am sooooooo proud of her! She did an awesome fantastic thing today.

About a year ago Faith and I were suppose to be in Columbus, OH to do a show but there was an Act of God (weather) that prohibited it. We couldn't reschedule and it was very very frustrating because of the disappointment for the kids at Northridge Elementary. Kids don't know about the weather, delays, TSA refusing to board you, all of that means nothing - - they just know that the two-legged dog didn't get to come to their school! Well, today that changes!!

We were able to get a flight for Faith but I couldn't go. I was under a contract to do something else, but Caity volunteered to do it. She didn't exactly know what she was getting herself into, but she wanted to step up and make it happen for these kids! She was allowed by American Airlines to take my place and she went. Now, getting there was NO EASY THING. We had storms last night and rain today that could have stopped the flights. We live an hour away from the airport and there was unexpected traffic delays, and a toll booth that she didn't know she was going to be coming to and she barely had the correct change. She said they didn't take dollar bills, it had to be loose change - they didn't even have the coin changer that we have in Oklahoma City! She found it, probably made someone behind her a bit angry as she searched through the seats, but she found it!

Next she had to get back onto the right highway after the traffic detour and find her way back to the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport from the Grapevine (Southwest) side rather than from the West side where she was coming from. She did that. Then she had to find a parking spot - - and wow that was crazy. She pulled into the valet parking but no one was there! She couldn't wait or she'd be late. She drove around looking for someone to give my car to - - scary stuff. She got the ticket for the car, put her backpack on and took the dog (wearing her E5 U.S.Army ACU) into the airport. She called me to tell me there was a huge line. She wouldn't make it to the gate in time. I explained she was riding First Class. This is only one of the reasons we fly First Class. It's not that we think we're better than anyone, believe me, we fly economy when we have time. When we don't have time, and we know we're going to be pushed to get to the gate before take off - - we need that extra security. That and Faith loves the omelets in the morning.

So, Caity got through the terminal, through the ticket, through the security, and is now at the gate. She called to say kids as young as 2nd graders are using Twitter, and they want to follow Faith on Twitter. I guess I can start one for her. She text to say that she's just met an A-listed actor from Chicago on his way to NYC. She's teasing me of course, but it would not surprise me - - Caity's so cute the world is drawn to her. Now she's off to the USO to the soldiers before the flight takes off. She'll be in Columbus, OH at 1:00, do the show at 2:30, come back at 6:00 p.m. and be home in time for her 9:00 bragging session with her sister Laura! I know she'll do the best job ever. She's never been on an adventure with Faith by herself. She's got TV to do today, radio spots. It's her turn to have a little fun...it's work too, as she just found out, but the rewards are so wonderful - - 400 faces all giggling and laughing when she tells them how Faith is changing the world!

She just told a soldier that didn't want to pet Faith that she outranked him and that he'd better pet the dog or be reported. He pet Faith and laughed about it. Faith didn't care - - she probably wouldn't turn him in! LOL

Thank you Caity!! I'm very proud of you!

The Good Shepherd Breaks Their Legs

I had no idea that the average Catholic didn't know the story behind the pictures of Jesus carrying the lamb on His shoulders. My friend Robyn thought it was Jesus' way of carrying us when we couldn't make it up the hill, or over the river by ourselves. I stared at her. I thought for a minute about NOT explaining the Good Shepherd's role in the discipline of His sheep, but then said to myself I would be doing her a grave disservice not to explain it. 

So, here you go - this is for all those sweet and wonderful Catholics like Robyn who made it to Mass but skipped out on Sunday School, leave it to the Baptists to fill you in on a few unmentioned facts.  For centuries shepherds have been herding sheep. Face it, no one likes to carry a load of weight around their shoulders for too long, and so it may seem that the Good Shepherd is picking up a little lamb and hoisting it over His shoulders to help it make it over to the greener pasture, perhaps the little baa-baa is just tired or fatigued and simply needs that extra gentle touch....not the way it works. 

I pick Faith up sometimes and carry her 27 pound body around, but not for long. A shepherd's role in the life of his sheep is not only to guard them, prod them, and get them onto the right path and in the right direction. Occasionally there is a need for discipline as well. When an animal that is suppose to be doing what it is suppose to be doing is told over and over again, shown, lovingly shown, forcibly shown, and it still refuses to do what it is suppose to do, the shepherd has two choices: he can either kill the little guy or break its leg to render it unable to continue disobeying him. 

 Now, almost IMMEDIATELY after the leg is broken the sheep gets the message that the shepherd (or in Jesus' case capital S with Shepherd) is serious about the direction or the commandment given. It doesn't take too long for the waywardness to subside and the dependency upon the Shepherd to take place. Then, and only then, does the Good Shepherd pick up the broken lamb and place it over His shoulders to carry it for a matter of a long time and an enduring lesson, which over a course of weeks, and usually close intimate conversation and discussion from His mouth to the lamb's ears, will the lamb be strong enough to walk on its own again. Breaking the animal's leg is better than the alternative. Guess how many actual shepherds take the time to do that? 

They feast on mutton rather than make the effort when they have too many other obedient sheep walking correctly. No...no thank you...I don't want to be that little fluffy sheep on Jesus' shoulders. I'm content to being one of the first sheep in line - keeping pace, doing exactly what I'm suppose to be doing. Every once in a while I may glance back to be sure I'm not missing the signal, after all I know how GOOD the Good Shepherd is! Walk with Him long enough and He knows that I know that He knows I'm going to do what I'm told. 

When I pray I pray with rocks in my hand and one thing I try to do often is remember to praise my Jesus. The same Bible that shares the stories of many shepherds also tells me that the rocks will call out His name if I forget. I don't ever want to hear my rocks talking! I don't mind if they praise WITH me, but I don't ever want them to praise without me. I guess what I'm saying is - - if you have been guided, told, shown, and commanded to do something by Jesus; do yourself a favor and keep your legs healthy...arms too I guess, get in line! He's never going to tell you to do something you aren't suppose to be doing, just maybe something you weren't planning on doing. I know that feeling. Been there still doing it. No, no, I'm not complaining....just doing it, and looking back to be sure I'm still with the pack! Baaaa-baaaa-baaaa

Ground Control to Major Tom - - Or Anyone Else That Will Listen To Me

"HOUSTON - We have a problem!"

I think it's more like "Mr. President, I paid DAMN good money for that tank and I want my baby boy inside of it!"

The United States Army has decided that my son should be on the ground - boots to the dirt, carrying a gun and guarding things, sneaking up on things, and generally being a foot soldier. Well, that works find and dandy for a movie; but I sort of liked the idea of my son sitting inside of his safer-than-on-the-ground tank, and having tunnel vision. (Actually the tunnel vision thing is pretty funny because we tell Reuben all the time that he's inside the proverbial box most of the time, and he's not looking at the bigger picture.) The tunnel vision was what I signed up for in the first place. Not the ground thing. Sorry Mr. President, I understand that you need what you need, but really - - can't we train the moms to do this? Think about it! If the war was fought on both sides by moms and grandmothers it would SOOOO be over by now. We'd sit for tea. We'd discuss the issues and say we're sorry. We'd invite them over for brunch, and ask the other side to politely leave our kids alone, and we'd politely leave their kids alone.

I used to think my son was easily described by comparing him to a six-month old St. Bernard puppy. Giant in some ways, gangly in others, easily tripped up by his size 12 feet and often flopping down in the middle of a board game to say hello to everyone. Now, after the United States Army has kept him locked up in their barracks for a couple of years - - he's become more like a middle aged Great Dane. Where is my son's baby fat? He doesn't even slobber anymore! I'm telling you - - these military people have done the impossible: They have an actual photo of my son without a smile on his face...I thought it may be CGI! MY SON REUBEN...no smile? Please! Forgetaboutit, but it's true.

The fact that Baby Boy will be walking around in a country that hasn't been completely safe lately is scary enough - add guns to the mix, hostile opinions, orders, and a lack of MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) and you're looking at a situation I'd rather not think about. He calls me now to tell me he's back home again - - "home" being a relative term at this point. I told him to call me every time he goes out on a dangerous mission, to update me in the middle of it, and to call when he's back "home" again. He laughed. I asked him to go up to his commanding officer, I don't care what the rank, and look him or her squarely in the eyes (Wait - - it has to be a man, a woman wouldn't send men this cute into battle) and tell him that his mother refuses to let him partake in anything dangerous. He laughed. I told him to take 3 tampons with him incase he got shot - - he can shove them up into the wound at least. He asked why only 3. My answer: "Son, if you get shot 4 times I'm thinking you can't concentrate on finding the tampons." He laughed.

At least I have my sense of humor - - and he knows his mommy loves him. BUT, and I mean this - - get you ass back inside that damn tank boy!