Pyrex Explosion - Expresses Sooners Defeat

And just like that, an explosion came out of nowhere. If I had been standing in the bedroom I would have thought it was a car coming through the wall, but it came from the back of the apartment. Maybe it was the spirit of OU descending at the same moment that West Virginia, yes the clear cut underdog, barked their way into a Tostitos Fiesta Bowl winners circle! CRRASSSHHH and then there was a smell of something really hot burning, just burning. I went outside thinking the trees that had been affected by the ice storm had broken in half. It was that loud.

Turns out the dishwasher got a little hot and the Pyrex square pan I purchased for myself to bake with at Christmas just shattered! Pyrex isn't suppose to shatter! It's suppose to be good from hot to cold. I hadn't even cooked in it for hours. It was cold, sitting outside on the cabinet 10-15 minutes before it busted...but the dishwasher; whoa! It may need to be investigated. If it's getting that hot, hot enough to splinter a well constructed tempered glass pan, it's probably hot enough to cause a fire! So, we'll just turn it off for now. You can see my DAWN liquid gel thing in the machine still - so maybe the water isn't coming out, but the heat is heating up....BAM! (Maybe the dishwasher, like the Oklahoma Sooners, is missing three very important players!)

I can't believe our guy Grainger is out shoplifting in Arizona, and got sent back! Well, of course I can believe he was sent back, but I mean, I can't believe a kid would play a fantastic season or two with the Oklahoma Sooners, a team that really stands for greatness, and then he throws it all away - for what? A coat? $100? Maybe! I can't see it....stupid is as stupid does, and well, you can't say we're not all guilty of being a little tip-headed at times, but to give up a chance at the National Championship next year, and to be a part of the greatest college tradition in the world - yes, I know we lost, but we're still the Sooners, by God, and we'll be there again, and again, and again. West Virginia is good, but it's been 19 years since they played in a bowl of that magnitude. I better not hear ONE Longhorn or ONE OSU Cowboy fan say a word about Sam and the boys - NOT ONE WORD. Our record stands! (Unfortunately, so do the flags and penalties from tonight's mishap!)

When the explosion happened I ran outside. I was looking, and looking, I didn't see anything. I thought it was a crash, boom, bang, and I couldn't see any evidence! Follow the evidence, always follow the evidence...where did I hear it? I was at the computer. Which direction did it come from? Behind me. What am I smelling? Beef? Burning beef? I don't really cook or eat much beef......OH WAIT...the girls cooked a couple of steaks, and I put their pan, the square one in the dishwasher, but didn't rinse it thoroughly because the phone rang. I was counting on the DAWN soap pad to get the grime.....BAMMMMM! You can see what it looks like! I'm just drop-jawed at the mess. I'll clean it tomorrow, but want to show it off to my 2 maintenance men. They love a great challenge, and nothing says challenge like a grimy broken jigsaw puzzle! They'll be happy - I'll bake cookies, and we'll be set with a new dishwasher.

Next week...the tub breaks! YES!...well, I can dream.

If you're wondering what I did about the fact that the Fiesta Bowl played during CSI-NY...worry not. I have two televisions. I know I could have foregone the show, but I actually love that episode (Suicide Girls). Caity wants to be one. Hope she's tall enough.

GOOOOOOO SOOONERRRRS!! (Kick them a couple of times for me Bob, and then hug them twice)

Aries is as Aries Does! (Reuben)

ARIES: (Translation) Someone who meets life head-on, ramming their way through every aspect of their life, enjoying everything to the very very end. Someone who, without reason, switches gears, drives like a maniac just for shock value, and who, because he can, climbs up onto the roof at the age of 2, wrestles with danger, and usually ends up thrilling, and scaring the living hell out of everyone who loves them. THAT is a proper description of my son. Look how cute he was at 6 days and even at 6 years, he had that smile...look! He had that smile back then!!

Jeanie and I went to the Oklahoma City Zoo and we took this picture of the Elk playing with a large branch. At first we thought he was entangled, but as he maneuvered his way with it, around it, under and over it, we realized he was playing with something he could easily control. You have to think of this in perspective to what I have witnessed for many many years. My son Reuben (You may know him as Baby Boy) will (still) play like the Elk, in front of God and everyone, in the backyard - with toys. He has a certain area that he plays in at my parents farm. It can't be mowed down, he'll call from Alaska to be sure that Pop leaves his field of glory the way it was meant to be; overgrown and full of weeds. Pop indulges the boy.

He'll get out there with air weapons and just play. He's the ultimate fighter, he's the hero, he always saves the day. This is a man almost 22 years of age, and when I say he doesn't care if anyone watches, I mean, he doesn't give a rat's butt. He's out there for hours yelling, playing, laughing, digging in, climbing rocks, over ledges, under hedges, he's the quintessential warrior. It's always been that way. Before the Army the boy played football hero. He entertained neighbors for years! I'm sure there were time that people wanted to jump the fence to play with him, and you know what...he would have let them!

When you walked out into the yard you became his prey! You were NOW involved. You didn't leave until you were captured, tortured for information, forced to make a winning play, or escorted to the hull of a massive ship, but you were in his control. This was my son then, and this is my son now. I am told that when he goes to pick up his tank/Stryker on base that he can be heard talking to himself as he walks the 2 miles to where they are kept. He's pretending. He's plotting, he's about to become the lead character in the play that will involve real machinery...I knew there was an ulterior motive for this man to have joined the Army! He's in fantasy 24/7 at this game....he's IN IT. It's better than owning a Wii, he's the player and the subject, it is Second Life in real time!

Knowing what I knew about Reuben I had no inclination to jump the fence to assist the poor Elk who from the point of view of most tourists was in real straits....it only took a few minutes staring at him huffing, puffing, foot stomping, and listening to him blowing out his nostrils air of frustration so loudly he intentionally called an audience to his fence....he's pulling a Reuben! Every last Aries is exactly the same.....show offs. I wasn't about to help him, I just blew the animal a kiss and told him to kill the damn branch, get it, get it, YOU WON! YES!

Within a few minutes the massive mammal released his victim branch and smiled at everyone who had fallen for his antics...he knew. They all know.

The Better Diet Assistant(s)

For years I have had the best diet assistance known to man. I have indulged in their services, I have given in and literally handed over my entire meal at times either out of guilt, or because I knew I wasn't suppose to be eating what I was eating. (Which of course begs the question why would I assume the dogs should be eating what I wasn't suppose to be eating, when they aren't even suppose to be eating table scraps?)

Show me a dog that doesn't eat table scraps (and/or meals) and I'll show you a mean nasty owner/friend who doesn't really have the dogs best interest at heart. Now, having said that, I don't need your e-mails explaining to me all the problems with giving dogs food from the frig or my plate. I believe my records stands. Rover lived 16 years, Christmas another 16 years, Doni-Dog 15, and yes, I could go on. We had the puppy-house on the block. We were never without dogs, and we were never without friends - both two legged and four now.

I will say that the dogs in my life currently have very different tastes in food. In Faith's case, she doesn't hardly taste the food - she wouldn't be able to tell you whether she just ate a piece of steak, a yam, or a buttered piece of toast. (Actually she prefers lemon curd to butter) She consumes everything instantly, not savoring it, not even feeling it, I believe she is a machine at times. Whereas Matrix, on the other hand, will sniff, think, actually roll the food around his mouth and give it a process before fully accepting it, I think Yuki (the little one) is somewhere in between. Wanting to be exactly like Matrix in every way, Yuki will at least attempt to take his time...but his dogness comes through in the end.

Faith is part Chow and it couldn't show more in the way of her eating. I have a pedestal, yes I do, and Matrix eats from it just fine. It may be the only real exercise the dog actually gets - he's a bit too plump in the winter, we're working on that, he is encouraged to chase the geese on a daily basis, and even though he doesn't mind, it has become a bore to him. We're thinking up new ideas. Faith doesn't need to exercise, she's small and thin. Walking upright must actually take more energy than walking on all-fours. She's spayed and doesn't show the least inclination to becoming overweight - quite the opposite, so handing her 33% of my food is really a means of helping her sustain her life! That's what I tell myself.

I sat down yesterday and figured out every calorie I was eating and cut off 30% for the dog-portion. I handed the finished figure to my personal trainer and he laughed. He agreed that his dog was also a life saver, he was the one thing standing between himself and a larger pants size. So, I say "hats off to the dogs" - instead of throwing the dog a bone, I just hand them the rest of the sandwich, the piece of cake I thought I wanted, the cookie calling my name, and then there's always the milk in the cereal bowl - I haven't had milk from the cereal bowl in .....well, ever. It's always belonged to the nearest dog.

It's a good plan.

I'm So Pretty!

LOOK AT ME....I was really young once. I think I was 21, maybe almost 22 in these pictures. I know where I am, I'm in Los Angeles; actually on Santa Monica Beach just off the pier. It was in November 1983, and I was working three jobs but felt that I had to go home fast fast fast. I wasn't into cocaine and it just seemed to be popping up everywhere I went. I couldn't go to work at any one of my jobs and not find an addict as a boss, as a co-worker, as the payroll clerk - it was stupid. I came home after my car was loaded down in all sorts of secret places and I literally drove 16 kilos (MULE) from point A, where I worked, to point B, where I worked. My innocence bustled - I wasn't stopped, I wasn't arrested, I wasn't even questioned....and I didn't know either...but after I was told I left. RAN HOME.

What the heck? I wish to God that I would have had the nerve, the strength, the power and the confidence I have now...I really could have done something. I worked for three separate studios, I lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills, even if I was just babysitting it. I drove a really cool 1968 Karmann Ghia, had shoes out the whazoo because the guy in the mansion had a billion girls visiting and they threw out shoes and clothes on a daily basis. If ONLY I would have had EBAY in the '80s. Why...why...why!?

There was this apartment, it was in Brentwood. The apartment had 7 women and 1 guy living in it, everyone's schedules twisting and turning around each others. You could go in and see any one of them in the bed, it was a one bedroom place, and any one of them on the couch, under the table. I found a little one, she was maybe 4'11" sleeping in the closet - on the shelf, over the clothes. It sort of made me feel a little guilty about the 15 bedrooms and 4 living areas in the mansion....and me. The billions of girls coming and going rarely stayed; it cost them too much. Me? Never....I didn't do that. Damn, I didn't do anything!

I remember thinking "Wow, I don't drink liquor, I don't smoke pot, I don't blow coke, I don't blow anything, I don't have sex, I don't even stay out when I'm not suppose to....what a freakin' bore." So, I went to the beach to scream. I did too, I just screamed and I was standing in the water, looking up to God screaming and God said "HEY, don't scream at me...LIVE". Now, living wasn't drinking, smoking, toking, having sex, or staying out - but it was doing more, and it was doing it with fun....with others. I turned around...and there he was. The Photographer!

So, there I am. Standing in the water, wearing my clothes, and just laughing....because I wasn't screaming anymore, and I basically had no other plan. He asked me if he could capture me, shoot me - - sure, why not. I hadn't really been a model before, I thought my teeth were too messed up, and even though I was 5'7", I had a little belly - it wasn't flat and pretty like .... like models, but he wanted me to dance in the water for a few pictures. He was from Chicago. His name was Lincoln. I said yes.

24 years have passed and I'm still willing to dance. I don't scream at God anymore, and I couldn't call myself all that innocent anymore, but I like to think that the girl in the water is still in my head, she's still in my heart, she's still in my dreams, and she sure as hell is still in my soul. DANCE - and don't scream so much, live instead....breathe.

Tricky Business!

No one was shouting TIMBER this morning when I let Faith outside to do her thing. They were yelling "Whoa!" just before they (he) nearly fell off his perch about 10-12 feet in the massive Oak that stands outside my door. Sometimes taking Faith to public places can cause a stir. In this case, it could have caused an accident involving a chainsaw!

Faith bebopped out of the gate at a normal clip. I heard the chizzling, clacking of the saw, and had just about that much time to look up to see the man nearly disengage himself from where he was standing when he unwittingly lost temporary contact with the large tree he was connected to. Thank God for safety belts, huh? The man below him was laughing, but I'm not sure it would have been too funny had his partner come headlong down the branches onto the ground below. "I'm sorry!" I shouted up to him. I didn't think about anything like that happening. We've been next to bars in big cities and seen people fall off their stools. There have been wrecks in NYC over her, and a man nearly lost his life that way. No kidding, he was so agile, so athletic, that had he NOT jumped straight up onto the hood of the taxi that was aimed toward him on Broadway, he would have been hit. It wasn't traveling all that fast, but still - tons vs a man! He was awesome.

So, I did what any good natured person would do in this case. I went back inside and got my camera and took a couple of really nice pictures of them. I'll email his boss and tell him how great of a job he's doing. How he managed to compose himself in times of extreme uncertainty! Actually, I think he is the boss. I'll just tell his wife, she'll be thrilled to know.

One of the funnier stories about Faith surprising people with her upright walking ways took place in Dallas at the DFW airport. We were stuck due to high winds, so we were just walking through the airport. Suddenly out of left field, I hear a really loud, rather high-pitched laugh/scream. It was a man! He was dancing, and he was laughing, and he was trying to decide to run up to us, or squat down and let Faith come to him. He did both really, sort of sliding into her, but she was more surprised by his voice and waving arms...she had to be coaxed into seeing him, but once they met he was the kindest of men. He broke his own cookie in two and gave it to her, he got her another one, then another one....he pet her, he kissed her, he told her how much he adored her. I think he even had a little tear in his eyes.

We hugged and shook hands and said our good byes, but I took pictures then too. Thanks Rick Springfield, your smiles that day have lasted even through today! You really are a master of your craft, and a fun-loving, hard-working man to boot. Kiss Gomer Blue Eyes for me!!

Tubers! I love them.

So, I'm like hanging out at the gym today with my buddy Niki, and what should happen? Tubers. Niki found me a recipe with all of them, all beautifully, fat, rough, raw veggies in a great healthy sauce made up of olive oil, cinnamon, ginger, and mango juice. Yes, you heard me, tubers! I bought them all. Beets, turnips, yams, carrots, and then I threw in an apple -- granny smith baby! Set the oven at 400, cut up the tubes and poured on the 1/2 cup of sauce. If you want the exact number of turnips vs. beets, I don't have a clue, I just cut them all up. I love beets. I really really love beets. About 30 minutes into it, you throw in the apples and you let them plump up. The mango juice is the last to leave the frig. Now, I cut my mangos and juice them right there, but that's me, I'm a freak.

After about 45 minutes you have a fine meal of the meanest, best looking, hard to resist veggies that just can't be beat. Wine, a little water, doesn't matter what you serve it with, the beets steal the show every time. Oh, and the leaves, the big, leafy green leaves with red-purple twizzler-type stems? What do you do with them? EAT THEM...eat them all. My girls like to make fun of me by making little rabbit faces, holding up their hands as if they're little paws....they cock their heads to the right and left, making chipmunk sounds - refusing to enjoy the meal themselves, and all the while teasing me further with showing off their sleek, svelte bodies while I stuff my face with green leafy stems and beautiful beets. Damn kids.

Just thinking about my veggies while I was working out today made my day! I couldn't even concentrate on the loud blasting music. Nothing could compare to it. Shut up Boston, go away Foreigner! Please, I'm going to be consuming carrots in an hour! I'm going to be cutting up turnips, mixing them with mango, I'm stripping yams of every feeler-looking-tentacle...I'm eating tubes! All day! (OK, I conceded and listened to Michael Buble, a girl can't resist the master can she? He's hot.)

Such a day, such a work out, OH, and I even learned about the 1/2 ball. Have you seen it? It's like a balance ball but it's cut in 1/2, has a flat side? I found out how to use that too today. Tell you what - with tubers in me and the knowledge of how to balance on an unstable platform (while holding 8 pound dumbbells) I could be unstoppable tonight. I could be dangerous. I hope so, I haven't had danger is such a long time.

Live a bit.

Go To War Already!

(Clark and Stringfellow at Ft. Wainwright BEFORE the accident)

Will you stop killing yourselves in Alaska boys? Get your tanks, take your guns and get over to the safety zone. I got the call again! I got that same call 8 months ago, 4 months ago, and again today! "Mom, I'm...hahaha...sort of....hahahaha..in the hospital....hahahaa...I broke my f*#king ankle AGAIN. This sucks...hahahaha". When I asked him, my baby(extreme baby) boy what he was doing--I knew. Sledding. He was totally out on the icy slopes, on the steep and dangerous slopes just off the base. Always OFF the base these events - - and it happened. No, not the fence. The boy did not run himself and his kiddie-pool sled into the orange-stopping-ya-from-hitting-the-lake fence - he and Clark went down the slope in tandem, where probably two seven-year olds could fit, and they both ended up tossing themselves over the side of an edge that probably held its own black diamond rank among locals. TO THE BOTTOM THEY FELL! I just rolled over in my bed and said the standard prayer. God has probably taken to numbering my prayers at this point....number 32 God....AGAIN.

Now, I don't know who fell where, or where he fell, or what he landed on - - my best guess would be hard Terra Firma, tundra, ground, maybe land....with a bump or a heap of ice sticking out, but down he fell. He tells me he felt his ankle (left this time) hitting his shin, and that's when he knew; something just wasn't going to feel all that good that the end of the roll. Clark got by with a broken thumb I hear - probably the one he'll need to shoot with. But I understand he may have another concussion too! Again, God is out there protecting my son from the life of a actual soldier...to think, he's trained, he's battle ready - except for the cast -- and the damn good smoking he better get from his SGT as soon as it heals, because if he doesn't get the boy I will!

How in the world is a mother suppose to sleep knowing her son is in Alaska? Surely there is a war out there somewhere that could use a good Styrker driver with sharp-shooter skills, and a broken leg. Let me rest! (Godspeed Baby Boy! Clark, I blame you!) LOL

Merry Christmas 2007! (Jesus, you're getting old)

(Portrait by H.C. Christy)

According to various scholars Jesus wasn't born on December 25. It may have been the day he was conceived, and as was/is practiced in the Orient, the day of conception is the day celebrated. It makes more sense to think this way, because the first of the year for the Jewish nation is celebrated in mid-September. If you recall your Bible stories, Mary and Joesph were on their way to pay taxes - which is what happened at the end of the year, and the first real census was being taken. Besides that, the zodiac's sign for that time, around mid-September, is Virgo. Does that mean Virgo men are perfect? Hmmmm, something to ponder. 

Nevertheless, this is the day we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior, and I have to say Happy Birthday! Which by earthly timetables would make the man about 2011 since he was born approximately 4 BC (By the way, BC doesn't stand for before Christ either, so it's OK) The things you learn when you go to college! What will you do today to celebrate? We've always been a low-key family when it comes to Christmas. Unlike the Griswalds, we don't even always put up a tree (that is when my son isn't here, he's the traditional man!) We didn't exchange gifts this year whatsoever except to buy a few memberships for the kids. Reuben got the family a membership to the Zoo for the year. We love that one! I picked up the yearly cost for a membership at both the gym and the Oklahoma Science Museum. I think it may give us discounts at the Oklahoma Historical Museum....gotcha, that one's free to enter. We love history and science stuff, bunch of geeks my family. 

Laura wrote and sang a song to me. That was cool. Caity got herself a tattoo on her forearm. It's a puzzle piece that she designed. It's pink and has the word "Friends" in it. I believe she's having the "Family" tattoo placed on her left forearm. That must have hurt...on the inside, not the outside. OUCH, pain, and suffering, but you know, she's been telling me for years that she was going to do it - she's at least true to her word. It was one of those moments I wasn't sitting on her, I guess. I think by this time next Christmas she'll have 10, but I do pray she doesn't have anything placed on her pretty face, her neck, or her hands.... please, and thank you. 

Jesus has been so awesome to us that I wanted to tell Him thank you personally. I had a little jam session with Him last night, where I just sat on the bed and played my guitar and talked to Him. It's always great when you can just chill out with the Creator of the Universe and talk about what you are grateful for, and follow up with a little suggestion here and there. He likes me, He laughs, I know. He does however answer my prayers, and in time, always in time, I receive exactly what He believes is best for me. You gotta love a God that does that for you! And I do. 

So, Merry Christmas to the world, Happy Birthday to my King, and I do believe He'll be reaching out, picking out the ONE that I will love someday, holding him, kissing him, telling him that in time, always in time, I get exactly what I need.... sometimes, what I want. Gotta love a God that does that for me....and I do. 

HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY TO FAITH!

(Please excuse the finger, it's the only picture I have of John & Reu together)


HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY DECEMBER 22, TO FAITH THE DOG.
It doesn't really seem like it's been 5 years, but it was. It was just after the finals week for the Fall 2002. I was teaching and my student Janet came up to me and said her dog Princess had just given birth to some puppies and some of them were dead, others were deformed. She didn't know what to do because they were suffering. I was the one who told Janet she needed to put them down - if they were indeed not being fed, and if they were suffering. She told me (and I'll never forget) that she wasn't holding the puppies, she didn't need to put them down. I laughed.

The next week or so was interesting, as Janet's brother John is my son Reuben's best friend. He came over several times and talked in code about the puppies because I had actually paid John's mother a couple of years before to have Princess spayed. I realized she hadn't been spayed when Janet mentioned the puppies, but John didn't know that. I let him go on with his cute little code, and he smiled, and thought he was so clever. John's adorable. He's about 6'5" and 230 pounds of all love. He and Reuben have been wrestling, fighting, hugging, and hanging out for years and years.

Another week went by and Reuben took off with John to go "bury the dead puppies" that were no longer being discussed in teenage-boy code. I told him to be safe, Princess was not a friendly dog, and to NOT bring anything home with him. He assured me he would not. He lied. Mid January 2003, we became the owners of a little yellow dog who didn't have a name until she was able to walk by herself - to walk by FAITH. It took a while, we had to train her, and she eventually caught on to the fact that if she stood up, or lifted her head off the ground she would be rewarded with great peanut butter and gummie bear treats. She'll do about anything for gummie bears now too.

Five years! Wow. She's been talked about, written about, shown off, bragged on, and lost a few times. She's traveled internationally, domestically, and has been seen by more than 500,000,000 people through 100 shows/events on television, in magazines, newspapers, and books. She's on the web, has her own agent, attorney, photographer, and even her own first-class seat when she flies American Airlines. She's achieved a great deal for a little dog (diva) who simply refused to give up - - that's really all it is, she decided to live. We were just blessed to be the people God chose to make that a reality. Thanks for all the love you have shown us during this five year period. We're hoping to triple the love in the next five.

Merry Christmas, and in the words of Winston Churchill - "Don't ever, ever, ever give up!"

Marine War Dog Lex Goes Home - Finally!

(Marine Cpl. Dustin Lee and Lex)

He took more than a bullet for his country, Lex the Marine Military Dog found mines and IEDs for the unit he was attached to. He was attached to someone else as well. Cpl. Dustin (Dusty) Lee was killed in service in March 2007 while he and Lex were working together. Lee's body was returned to his home in Mississippi, but Lex was forced to stay behind and serve his mandatory contract with the unit. Lee's father and family protested the arrangement, asking specifically for Lex to be allowed to retire a hero and to live the rest of his life with them. Lex is eight years old, and his mandatory stay included approximately two more years of service.

When Lee's body was recovered the medical team was unable to fully retrieve him without first asking Lex's permission to do so. Like any good Marine, Lex refused to allow the body of his owner/friend to be molested. When Lex was satisfied that the medics were on their side, he relented and said good bye to his best friend Dusty. Lex was also allowed to fly back to Mississippi for the funeral, where he honored his partner by playing tug-o-war with his siblings and sat at full attention during most of the proceedings. The family fell in love immediately, and knew Lex belonged with them.

It nearly took an act of Congress, but after eight hard months of words, papers, filings, and testimonials, Lex the War Hero Canine is being retired today, and will be serving the rest of his days with the Lee family as part of that legacy. Hooah! Rest in greater peace Dusty, you have a great warrior protecting your family tonight.
I want to personally thank the Corp and the Air Force for their joint effort in allowing this adoption to take place.