Oil of Oregano - - NOT to be Abused

Nope, this is ONE herb you just don't want to mess with. Reuben (I call him "Baby Boy") found that out the hard way today -- and JUST like the time he put his hand into his Grandma's pepper jar I couldn't stop him, Reuben dosed himself under the nose as was suggested! OUCHHHH - and what a noise, very loud noise came out of my darling 24 year old son. REALLY very reminiscent of the day he was about 2 and popped his first jalapeno! A boy has to learn, right? Sometimes moms do need to be listened to before taking action. He won't be doing that again. My ears are still ringing, but probably not as loudly or as painfully as his nostrils. (He now says he can smell it, taste it, feel it, and he's not really all that happy with himself for not reading the instructions on the bottle.)

Boys are boys until they become men, then there's really not much hope for them now is there? Not when it comes to listening to mom, and not when it comes to reading the labels or following diagrammed instructions. They just have to find out for themselves how to sink or swim - - and in this case how to do the dancing thing when you've burned out the inside of your nose with an extremely potent herb designed to kill off bacteria. Noses have bacteria in spades. The herb was JUST doing its job, son.

We went to the FedEx store to send off a media pack to the Zippy Production Co. in Japan. That's when the lady behind the counter, who was wearing her "I Support the Troops" shirt noticed that Baby Boy was sneezing a bit, and sniffling. He was born in Oklahoma but has never gotten use to or immune to the pollens from the cottonwoods, pecans, dandelions, you name it my son is allergic to it just enough to make his sinuses rage a bit in the spring and summer heat. Angelina, the woman, quickly told him to try a little oil of oregano and then she said to put it under his nose, just a drop. She swore it would work - - she may be right, but the bottle is clear about NOT putting the oil directly on the skin without mixing it very well with olive oil first. Infact, its so strong (oil of, or extract of oregano) that it takes a full teaspoon of extra virgin olive oil mixed with just one tiny drop of oregano oil to make the right mix. NO ONE wants to put that much oil under their nose, so I'm thinking under the tongue would make a lot more sense.

I was right -- and as much as I like to admit that I'm right, I don't like to admit that my son who can stand in Iraq for a year holding a gun to protect me and who can drive a tank on two wheels when called to do so, can't or won't listen when I tell him what I know to be true about herbs. HELLO, I'm Celtic! I think I'm more Celtic than he is because he is actually 1/16 Chinese -- but then again, the Chinese are masters with various herbs and remedies -- suffice it to say my son didn't really inherit the herb gene. He did however steal all of the bravado and macho genes from whatever pool his DNA was swimming in. He's brave to a fault at times and even when he afflicted himself with the oil of oregano he immediately (after initially screaming and rubbing his face into the couch) went on the defence and crammed dry tissue up his snout to get all that he could -- but membranes being membranes the damage was pretty much done. Poor baby. He did learn from it, but still. It hurts a mother to laugh that much at her son.

OK, so the effects of oil of oregano can be very very beneficial to anyone using it correctly. It works to eliminate inflammation, it helps acne, or actually kills the bacteria that causes it. It works to aid stomach aches, indigestion, gas and so much more...and sinus issues too. But please, before you try anything new - - especially if someone from a store just mentioned it on the fly, please consult a doctor or pharmacist -- herbalist, someone! And, if you're not to manly to do so, please try reading the bottle for instructions. If you are too manly to read it, ask your mom!

Puppy Faith (10 inch plush toy) is HERE

Welcome to the FAITH the Dog's Official Product Site!

Everyone needs a little "PUPPY FAITH"

Item Number: 3929394
Description: Reserve Your Inspirational and Hug-able "Puppy Faith" Plush Toy TODAY!

Custom made by the Beverly Hills Teddy Bear Company & Distributed by Cher Marketing for only 14.99ea. (a portion of proceeds will go to help the Michigan Animal Rescue League & Community Animal Rescue Effort in Strawn Texas)

Soft and Cuddly "Puppy Faith" is 10" tall, golden color with an inspiring removable heart shaped message tag attached to her ear.

Contact: www.chermarketing.com or call: (248) 674-9339 to orer yours.

Ordering instructions: Please indicate the color golden and size small to complete form.

International Shipping, will be invoiced at $12.75

A 10% profit of Jude Stringfellow's PORTION OF PROCEEDS WILL BE DONATED TO HELP ANIMALS IN NEED!
Namely Animal Rescue groups.
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Quantity: 1
Price (each): $14.99




WE ALL NEED A LITTLE "FAITH"





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At Home on the Range! 2010

When your kid is qualified to be in Special Forces and has real skills, you listen to them when they say “C’mon Mom, we’re going to the range to shoot a few.” It happens more often than one may think.   Reuben has trained me in hand-to-hand combat, how to deliver a sweet kidney jab and cut throat move all in just two seconds. He’s rather handy that one. He takes great pleasure in sneaking up behind me and killing me, then explaining to me just how easy it was, before showing and demonstrating to me what I could have done to prevent him from doing so.  

 Reuben took me to the shooting range close to where we currently live, only about 20 miles away.  Had it been in Texas, I would have said "just up the road a bit" to describe how far we drove so I could kill paper targets. Everything is relative in Texas when it comes to distance. It was fun, it’s always fun when we go shooting, but more importantly, it was a life lesson for me, as to why I gave birth in the first place. The #1 reason I gave birth to my son apparently, was so that on this day, he would rule supreme over me and thoroughly school me on self-defense, self-preservation, self-protection, and why I should never join any elite shooting teams any time soon (Hint: because I suck at shooting a gun.) You have to understand that even though I was raised in a Southwestern state (Oklahoma) and have been out in the woods I have not been hunting. I have only been target-practicing with hand guns.  Before my son, I had only shot a hand gun a few times and I think I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger with both hands most of the time. I missed then too. It was determined long ago that I'm far better at shooting a rifle than I am a hand gun.  

I've been known to shy from a pistol; even dropping it, and then screaming because I thought it was going to go off in my hands or when it hit the ground for sure. Yep, I'm far better and more comfortable holding a longer barreled weapon and when I do I have a bit more confidence -- at least I can fake my non-nervousness and I don't shake or sweat where the bad guy can see me. Choosing the right weapon is so important. I told the guy at the front desk of the gun range that I wanted something without a recoil and he showed me the door. At first, I thought he kept guns outside where we had just come in from, but soon realized he was directing me to go home -- I laughed, but apparently, he's not much of a joker. See why I don't date? Men are mean.  

Reuben gave the guy the ol’ man head nod without saying anything, and he was escorted to the back office where all the rifles and pistols are kept. The guy finally cottoned up to me after Reuben explained my ignorance; thank you son -- and I was handed a something or other deer rifle with the number .243 at the end, which I think shoots 30x30 ammo - - but that makes no sense to me. It should shoot 243 sized bullets, right? Anyway, I didn't argue, I just listened to my son explain how to load it, how to lock it, how to cock it, how to aim it, and how to shoot it correctly; and he did this in one long sentence and only 1/2 of a breath. Done! I had to ask him to do it again of course, but this time to slow it down a bit -- the gun master left the room before he became angry enough to use one of his guns on me in front of my son. 

 We were the only shooters on the deer range. I was given a deer rifle for two reasons: 1. It's easier to explain to law enforcement, I'm told. You have a deer rifle you may never be questioned as to why you own one. It's used to shoot deer. the 2nd reason is, you guessed it, it doesn't have as much of a recoil. Well, it does, but it's supposed to be easier for women and/or men who aren't used to shooting. I don't like to lie to law enforcement - - but I will never ever in my life, as long as I live, shoot at a deer. It's not going to happen. Not in this life time and not in any other life times that I am a participant of. I'm getting the rifle to protect myself and Laura from bad men, not good deer. So, Mr. Law Enforcer - - I'm getting a MAN rifle, not a deer rifle. There, I said it.  

OK, so you don't think I'm a total buffoon, I will address the issue of aiming first. I did a very good job at shooting the rifle once I understood the concept of closing one eye and aiming with the open one. It only works when you use the open eye to gauge the shot, and no one, not even my son got a chuckle when I tried to aim the rifle with the closed eye -- it was a joke! He was not laughing, I swear, these sour-faced people can be annoying.  No one is funny at a gun range. I practiced a few times and then began shooting. We paid for 30 minutes and in that time, I shot at and murdered over 40 paper deer. I nearly cried thinking about their little paper friends, families, baby deer back in the storage cabinet, and thought long and hard about asking for paper man targets since I wouldn't be aiming low enough to shoot a deer in the head or a man in the ---- oooooh, yes, I guess I might be aiming low enough to shoot a man there, now, wouldn’t I?  At least he would stop his approach if I did, wouldn't he?  

So, I shot 10 more deer after that...all dead. All the deer that came after me as they grazed unwittingly in their gun range field of air were called "Mr. Bad Guy" and I killed every last one of them. No mercy for their paper friends and relatives after that - - they had to die. Well, the rifle was OK, it hurt a bit and I realized that I can actually shoot right and left eyed -- or right and left-handed. I'm equally good on both shoulders, and because of that I'm equally sore tonight from the not-suppose-to-have-much-of-a-recoil recoil.... the .243 has a good recoil folks, it does. yes, it does. I can handle it because I have "shooter's shoulders" I'm told.  

How funny, when the assistant gun range man told me I had shooter shoulders, I told him I also had child-bearing hips. He said he had noticed my hips when I first came into the office. I blushed and said thank you, but my son wasn't the least bit impressed - - he got in the man's face and asked if the rifle was on sale or if he could pay some now and pick it up in a month or so. It was on sale, but we decided to wait - - I decided to wait. I want to be sure I'm moving to the country before plopping down $550 for a rifle I'm buying to protect myself in said country - - for the city, more urban, "Mr.Bad Guy",  I have my dogs, my daughter, and my Kaybar knife to protect me. (I'm not really bragging, but I'm fairly feisty with a blade) Reuben gave me a crash course on grappling as well.  

See, giving birth to this kid has just been so beneficial. There you go - - settled. Once I hear the words "We're doing the movie, Jude" and I find myself moving to the no-where zone of Northern Central Texas, where all roads lead somewhere cool, I’m told, I'll buy the rifle. I'm told the 30x30 ammo is cheap and that if I hang a couple of the paper targets outside the house, I could actually detour a would-be intruder. He may see that I missed the deer's head - - worry that I may not miss his head – OR, if I aim the same way I did to put a hole in the center of the animal Mr. Bad Guy may want to keep his bad balls where they currently hang. Just sayin’.