I Did NOT Raise My Son This Way!

REUBEN, my son, is the guy laughing and pointing at his good friend and fellow Army soldier (PFC Morckles) who ended up face-first into the fence when they attempted to slide down really steep hills out there somewhere in Alaska, where the boys are stationed. You'll notice they aren't wearing their uniforms. This was an off-duty, off-the-clock activity, that landed Morckles squarely in the hospital. I do hope my baby boy wasn't laughing while Morckles was triaged and stitched, but I'd bet a dollar he was!

If I had to guess, I would say that the entire event was cooked up by either Reuben or his friend Clark who comes up with some of the more dangerous ways to pass their Army duty time. Last week it was dodging live ammo....good thing they survived that! Now it's dying by sled! Only Reuben was careful enough to get inside the sled and duck down as much as possible. He said the fence was actually there to stop them from going onto the frozen lake, which could or could not be completely iced...why am I being punished like this? I thought I did a relatively good job with this kid.

Play all night, work all day. Today's events at the base included grappling and hand-to-hand combat in the snow and ice. Reuben's gear held up, but he tells me he took the opportunity to hide Clark's underwear in the bowl outside that they use to water the stray dogs and cats who come by for shelter. I'm not sure if I should laugh or smack the boy for possibly upsetting the dogs! You don't contaminate water bowls! It's as if he left the house just to play, and he's doing it in really big tanks and using really loud guns - or fast sliding sleds which have the potential to cave in his face! But still, as you can see, he laughs. The boy doesn't know the meaning of stop. He was born an Aries - head first, hard, rough as hell, and get up off your butt to do it again. EVERY day, EVERY time, this boy just laughs...even when he's the one on the doctor's table. (8 broken bones in 8 football seasons)

So, you let them play. You pray, and you ask God to bring them home safely, or maybe to let them go to war where at least they'll be supervised! Hooah! (Love you baby)Now someone take that boy to the ER...stat!

Vegas! It Was Fun!

As a dog, you know you've arrived when you're flying first class with American Airlines and staying at the Four Seasons hotel on top of the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas. Well, Faith had no idea she was as special as everyone knows her to be. We were flown out for the day to shoot a short segment on a Spanish based TV show that would be equivalent to Sesame Street meets Entertainment Tonight! It was fun. Our host for the show is a 3-day old ant, an insect. He's a puppet of course, and he speaks only Spanish. Being 3-days old he didn't have time to learn any other language, but he can do a great deal for being a little purple ant!

We played at Caesar's Palace, and it was Celine Dion's last performance too. We saw thousands lined up to get into the show and into the lobby to see her on the big screens. They were telling the audience not to take pictures, so my manager told them they could take Faith's picture, and that was awesome! She was very well received, I can assure you of that. We saw the Strip, the fountain finale at the Bellagio, and we saw the roller coasters riding up and down their track over New York New York! It was fun to be a part of the show, and it was awesome to have stayed at the prettiest, most welcoming hotel in the world. I have to shout out to Kimberly, to Ladonya, and to dozens of employees who turned down my bed, turned on my music, got Faith her Evian water, baked her little doggie cookies, and there was someone, someone EVER so wonderful, who heated up my bathrobe! I have to go back...if only to steal one of the Four Season's bathrobes! INCREDIBLE service at this hotel, and incredible people there to greet you at every single turn.

Niki went with me as an official dog-handler. She was great. She and I managed to walk through casino after casino and not gamble a single penny. I don't know why we didn't, but maybe Faith was a part of that. We literally couldn't take her 5 feet without everyone coming up and snapping pictures, asking questions, and just being as sweet as you can imagine. They were all shocked to see her in the casinos and t hey loved seeing her on the Strip. We had our dinner paid for when a man insisted on doing so. He was very nice - he and his wife were from Chicago!! YES! (My almost new hometown)

My last shout out...to Vince, Tony, Tom and Drew! Vince picked us at the special request of the owner of the Four Seasons. He didn't have to, it was a special gift. He picks up quite a few people, and he was so kind to us. Thank you. Tom took us to the location, he was both professional and informative. He was a Navy Seal for years, and the way he drove us...made me feel like I was back in New York City! Thanks Tom! Drew drove Faith and the host of the show, along with myself, my agent and our handler Niki. We drove around town talking, and laughing, we even made Drew fix my camera so I could take more pictures! Finally to Tony, he picked us back up when Vince was unavailable. Again, it was something he didn't have to do, but was a very appreciated gift! Thank you to everyone and anyone we met at the Four Seasons...and yes, Anthony, the greeter at the door - kiss your two girls for me!

Thanks VEGAS! We will return.

Vegas Baby!

(Not My Photo)

Hey, you thought we were going to Spain, I thought we were going to Spain, then a little thing like weather stopped us. God is go great!

Faith and I were scheduled to appear in Madrid, Spain for her first international date, but the great people of Gest Music (though they tried and tried) couldn't book a flight with Faith coming into their country via the cabin of the plane. Faith flies first class because of her celebrity status, so it was important to book it that way. (We still may have to put her in the cargo from time to time due to Homeland Security issues on those rare dates). When the weather in Oklahoma threatened to be too cold for the flight to allow Faith to fly under the cargo, the plans were changed to allow the Gest Music crew to fly to America. They chose the beautiful and oh-so-dog-friendly city of Las Vegas, and there you go - Lights, cameras, and lots and lots of action.

Can you just see the people in the bars now? They'll be falling off their stools thinking they've had one too many after they see a two-legged dog running up and down the strip, not to mention inside the casinos. We'll definitely need her bright orange vest for this one. Maybe she'll be kicked out again - she's been considered a major distraction before, what's stopping her from doing the same in Sin-City? She's up for it! Do her little dance, kiss a few people, asked to leave - quietly.

Actually, we'll be filming the television show which we were suppose to be filming in Madrid, but we are unable to guarantee the flight, and don't want to miss the opportunity to perform for the great audience who is expecting to see Faith. We wish we could go, but weather doesn't cooperate at times in the plains states,and its better to be safe than sorry. Do you think Faith can bring me luck at the tables? I think I'll have to designate just a little bit for my good friend and I to have just enough fun. I have to take Niki! I just have to. She'll need the break from her job and her life - - get a little taste of what its like to run around with Faith and see the gorgeous soldiers on the strip. Oh, and they'll have lots of kids there too. In fact, we're looking at booking her a regular engagement, something like a weekly show. That would be incredible! Faith, Family, Fun.

I'll keep you posted on the good times - hope to see you smiling on the strip this coming week. The only thing sad about the new plans is that Walter Reed is out, and I can't express how sad that makes me, but we're scheduling an event in about 90 days to make up for it. We just didn't have enough time for clearance and the way things have to be planned for them to accept us. It won't be long, we'll be hugging a bunch of soldiers one way or the other....my favorite past time. I like it even more than football. (and that's saying something!)

It Never Really Ends

(Ralph the mouse)

As usual, I'm just sitting at the computer minding my own business, that's what I do. When I look up from thinking and writing, I notice my daughter Laura talking to her pocket. Those of you how actually know Laura wouldn't be surprised to see a sight like that. Laura often speaks to angels, and if these angels are hiding somewhere in her clothes, hey, she will speak directly to them in public or in private. She doesn't care. This time, it wasn't an angel, per se, it was a little white mouse that was saved (as mice are often saved by my children) from being eaten by a pet snake of one of her friends.

We had snakes for years, and we usaully fed them dead frozen thawed out mice. We fed them mice that we hadn't associated with. The two times we had snakes that ate live mice, we ended up with a great deal of little pets in a few aquariums around Reuben's room. We had 6-8 rats and/or mice at once particular time. I just can't get to know an animal and then feed it. I could buy it, have it put into a bag and then have the kids dump it, but I couldn't do it. If the animal was really clever and began scratching and making noises from inside the bag on the way home - I had a pet!

So, I'm writing, I reading, I'm actually on the phone with Reuben as he gave me play by play details of what he wants to happen at his funeral, should he have one, when Laura comes in and she's talking to her pocket. I didn't ask. I just held out my hand. It was more fun to hold a mouse named Ralph than it was to deal with my son's idea of what a perfect funeral should be like. He did come up with some pretty flashy ideas though; he does that....and then dumps the work on me. It's been going on for years really. I learned about most of his homework just hours before it was due.

Ralph was found by Laura, kidnapped, and brought home. Out there in the big bad world of our city is a very hungry snake, just wondering what happened to his fat little dinner that wiggled just so. Well Mr. Spot-back, he's in my house! He's eating puppy chow drowned in soy milk, and he's being loved, hugged, petted, and sang to...that's where your meal is tonight mister! Slither away - beast! I do actually like snakes, and in this case I feel sorry for him because he's not been trained to eat frozens, and so he's probably feeling a bit cheated. Poor little python....not, he can learn!

When I think about, this sort of thing was just another reason why I gave the kids their own place. Why is this happening to me? Maybe next time the lease is up I'll get a place a bit further away - instead of next door.

Hey Lady, Will You Sell Me Your Dog?

Basically, this sort of thing shouldn't happen. I mean, you buy a puppy when they are being sold on the corner, at the pet store, perhaps out of the paper, from a friend; but you don't approach someone whose had a dog as a member of her family for nearly 5 years and just because she's cool - offer to pay her for the dog. AS IF.

OK...before I go into all the reasons this guy was nuts, tell me something - what does this guy plan to do with my dog? Market her? Just exactly HOW would he do that without getting her to cooperate with him on his every whim? Would she cooperate? She doesn't do what I ask her to do most of the time. I just let her go, and watch! She walks where she wants to walk, noses what she wishes, and when she decides to go under the bed or under the table if we're in public, she goes! Faith has her own agenda. Does this man really think he can pay me for my kid? (Don't answer that...I might sell Caity. I would laugh my self silly, roll over in fact, and call 9-1-1 just to help the man out, but I could conceive of selling THAT child before I could conceive of selling Faith.) Caity and I have a deal. If I can sell her and make a decent profit I have to split it with her. She doesn't believe anyone would actually pay money, but she's at least willing to consider the possibilities. That is, until the person made a demand of the girl - that's when it would get fun. Talk about a show; sit back and take odds. Put your money on the monster. I really do love this kid, I do. I love her endlessly, unconditionally, sometimes at a far distance, and sometimes really up close and personal...but I wouldn't pay a nickel for another one just like her.

Buy my dog! The Hell they say! The second I did something like that I would become the most hated person on earth. Keith Olbermann would mark me as the Worst of the Worst People on the Planet. Karl Rove would get a better poll score than me. I could just see the headlines "Two-Legged Bitch isn't a Canine", or maybe "Faith Be Gone,Owner Sells for $1M" Besides, what would I do with a Million Dollars that I can't do with the pennies I make now? I couldn't' hide. I couldn't buy another puppy and start over hoping it would respect me...which it probably would because dogs do that. They love no matter what. I would be the most evil of evils...not to mention the fact that my baby-girl would cry and not understand for a second why I left her with a stranger.

Please, do me a favor. If you see me in public with my dog, ask me how old she is, what her favorite game is, what she eats (Petlane Pure Woof - Get it from Lenny Slape in San Fran.) but never ask me if you can buy my dog, never ask me how much I'd take. The answer to that question is this: I would take a bullet for her, but she's not for sale. If you want the truth, I wouldn't really sell my little girl either; she's a mess and a pain in my backside most of the time, but that Gremlin is my baby doll, and even though I'll fight her to the end of days, she is forever in my soul, in my blood.

You may not get to pick your family, but you certainly don't go around selling them. Geez!

CSI-NY Does the UNTHINKABLE

(Best looking eyes in the Army!)

I'm sick! Just absolutely sick tonight. I was sitting on my couch drinking a little wine with my friend Niki, we were enjoying a great batch of hot chocolate chip cookies....when CSI-NY opens up their new episode with a boy getting shot and killed. His name was RUBEN. Can't tell you how that struck me! I wanted to reach out and rip the head off the shooter, right then, right there. Of course, my good friend Niki looks over and says "Betcha anything they didn't spell his name REUBEN, I know they didn't. Your son is fine." I wasn't really all that personally touched, just maybe a little.

So this kid, this RUBEN, he's living in the apartment complex where Danny Messer lives. Right down the hall. He kept Messer up sometimes with his laughing, and his playing little boy tricks....so they OFF THE GUY! Oh, please...two minutes, just two minutes with that shooter.....no, I'm OK...I'm fine. Drink a little more wine, Jude, you'll be OK.

The phone rings. "Hey Mom" came the voice. I love my son. Seems someone in Oklahoma City called him on his cell to say a RUBEN had been killed on CSI-NY; it's not a name you hear that often. Reu didn't blink. He knew I would be watching, it's my show. He thought maybe 1 second about it, and decided to put in a call to let his little-more-than-letting-on mom know that he's perfectly safe in his bunk up in the Tundra of Fairbanks, Alaska. (Although, this week Oklahoma had worse weather than the Tundra with our record breaking ice storm.)

"I love you baby. Don't drive your Stryker on the streets of New York Baby Boy, there's a killer out there." He laughed. "I heard about it. Hey, can that RUBEN do this?" he asked, and he reared back and burped one of the longest, loudest, what he would say juiciest belches this side of the Atlantic! That's my son. That's what mom needed....security, priority one. If he can do that, he's perfectly fit. He's warm, he's been fed, he's just - - well, the most wonderful son in the world.

So, maybe after thinking about it, I need to thank the writers of CSI-NY for putting the name out there. What this world needs, and I mean this; are a few more Reu. No matter how you spell it. Good night Soldier Boy! Thanks for thinking of me when you knew I was thinking of you.

Honest Rons Guitars

Hey, I went to the hood today, where I used to teach, and right in the heart of the city is Honest Ron's Guitars! Look, there's a picture of Ron (on the website you can see Dobro his dog in the shot), who I'm sure will be assisting Ron when he repairs, tunes, and loves my two guitars that I took to him today. I'm going to let Ron babysit them until I return from Spain.

I hadn't been to his store before, but it came highly recommended by a man named Bill at the Larsen's Music Store, a store where I would have been more than happy to leave my babies, but Bill suggested Ron. Bill said, and I must agree having met Ron, that Ron was the right guy for the job. Look at him, this man's been around music for a very long time. He'll be the best for the job...bar none.

Well, if you need a guitar, need a guitar fixed, or if you just woke up this morning and thought you just had to have a new or used mandolin, Ron is the man to see. His website is cool too, it is: www.honestronsguitars.com (very original name) and his shop is located at 1129 N. May, OKC, OK. Call first, he's only there 3 days a week. Rumor has it he loves his family and spends time with them on the other days.....Dobro told me.

Love to you guys at the shop!!

Hard Earned American Tax Dollars At Work in Iraq

(This is not my son. This is Marcus Levering. He's in Iraq - Being really cool.)

ONCE AGAIN, I am proven right when I say that American football has it's highest priority. Nothing, not even WAR can stop this soldier from playing the game. Look at that form, what a handsome man!

We used to tease my son because he (like I) quit a really good paying job once when they didn't let him off to play football. I actually quit when I wasn't allowed to go to the game - he was playing. He had a much higher call of duty than I did. But look at Marcus Levering - - In the war, in the middle of it all, and has the wherewithal to pick up the ball and run with it...after he poses with it. That's spirit! That's what I'm talking about! Get out there and kick some desert butt.

Makes you wonder if Americans did actually form an Army/Marine team in Iraq and they played the Army/Marine team in say Afghanistan on any given Saturday, on perhaps a closed circuit television channel, what their team mascots would be. What colors would they choose? What would their SECRET WEAPONS or play be? Let's see: Iraq is mostly desert, sandy, populated, they could be called the Urban Rhinos. You'd have the same camo desert colored ACUs and their helmets could show the symbol of a big nasty Rhino carrying an assault rifle in one hand and a grenade in the other. The boys and girls (if they wanted to play) in Afghanistan would be from the hills, unpopulated, loners, so they could be the Covert Condors...YES. They'd wear all black with red helmets, and a big pair of wings coming out of the American Flag on their helmets.

The game would take place in the middle somewhere - equal field position, flat, preferably with grass, although I would have no idea where that would be. The camera and media crews would be the ONLY spectators. It would be played under very secret circumstances and the winners would be every one of us who got to watch. The hardest thing about it would be trying to broadcast the players by name because ACUs and black ninja outfits don't have names printed on the back of the men/women in play. We'd have to number them only and just call out "False start, Defense, Number 63" (I'm used to hearing that particular call - so I threw it in there. It's the reason my son was given the nickname Sooner. Had nothing to do with is love for Oklahoma football. He was offsides constantly trying to make a play. Fast kid.)

The bottom line on this one.....Americans send their boys to war, their boys take their game! Thank you! May the BEST always win. Hooah!

Update on Stella Silvertone

Isn't she absolutely beautiful? She arrived today by FedEx, and I couldn't believe the extreme care her sellers took to send her. She was wrapped in the best grade materials I have ever seen - then boxed, taped, and again, shipped by FedEx. She was warm to the touch when I pulled her out of the box, and it's freezing outside. Great job! Thank you.

Stella is about ready to meet Honest Ron the guitar doctor. He's really busy this time of year, so before I hand her over for what could be two weeks, I want to hold her a bit, get to know her, and just figure out a few things. I know she's about my age, she's made of mahogany, and she's been strung in the past with both nylon and wire. I don't get that, but then again, I'm not a guitar person yet. I'll have to ask Ron what his opinion is. For now she's resting nicely against the wall watching me type - I'm not sure, but I think I saw her sighing just a little. Could be that she realizes she's found a home, could be because she smells the chocolate chip cookies in the oven and wishes that she could partake!

Stella has a string holder like I've never seen before, it is metal and attaches to the bottom reaching up to hold the strings in place. I've only seen the bars holding strings in the past, and that one thing made her stand out a little to me. There were certainly dozens of beautiful instruments waiting to be adopted on Ebay. You could look into that if you're of a mind to do so. I wanted a guitar I could befriend and love, not just play and set aside. I never store an instrument. They are always displayed, allowed to visit, be picked up and loved by others, and sometimes I've found that staying with me wasn't the ultimate destiny of a particular instrument, and they have become gifts to people who can give them everything...but not Stella. She and I will be friends for life.

I keep looking at her. She's so pretty. I pulled out one of my new beginner books and partially read it out loud to her. She speaks English! I wasn't sure, she could have been a Spanish guitar, but she's actually from the Midwest, maybe originally from Chicago...wouldn't that be great? It's time to find her a birthday, and to do that I have to narrow down her personality first, determine the zodiac sign, and then find the right number for her. At first blush I would say she's an Aquarius, maybe something like my friend Jennifer, born Feb. 16, 1962. Perhaps it will turn out to be the best date; until then, keep your music and of course your imagination in plain sight!

Ice Trees Cometh

Faith is a very talented dog, but there are a few things even she can't do. She can't stand up and stay still. She has to balance, therefore you see her moving in this picture. She also can't balance as well as a four-legged dog on ice, hence the moving in the picture. She also doesn't poo or pee on ice...thus the DANCING in the picture. She cracks me up. More than 10 times today I have attempted to put her out so she can relieve herself, but she insists that she's just fine. She'll walk to the edge of the patio, maybe even venture to the edge of the grass line, but when she steps on the icy mess - forgetaboutit! She tumbles, trips, and stumbles her way back into the house for warmth. (When you're a dog and you're walking upright, every bit of friction helps) For all His blessings of this dog, God did not choose to give her much under-hair. She has top hair only. He knew she'd be an indoor dog!

So, I woke up this morning to the alarm clock turning off, turning on, lights on, lights off...thundering booming bursts of lightning, and ice. Not rain,just ice. Falling and sticking to everything...inch to an inch and a half, everything....I think Faith was afraid she was next after surveying the bushes. Matrix did the right thing the first time, and now resides under the covers on top of the bed, demanding that I bring him water and food to the room. He knows I'll buckle. I always do. We have rules in this house about the comfort of our dogs.

God can do so many things with His weather; He chooses to use Oklahoma as his canvas, we have more types of weather in such short amounts of time. Tomorrow we won't be experiencing ice, oh no. It will be 49 degrees and we'll have 40 mile an hour wind. Just because that's the way we roll here - stick around, you'll see it all. Poor dogs, they go up to Seattle and the rain just falls, makes very little sound, and the grass is actually soft, not cracking under their feet. Oh, sounds like a trip to Seattle might just be the thing to do....after we get back from Spain next week. Oh, I didn't tell you? More tomorrow, I have to go get the luggage I promised myself I would buy if the trip came through.

Happy Sliding!