Coffee Redo -- I'll Try

     If you've kept up with me for any time at all, you know I gave up drinking coffee about a year ago. In fact, I'm about 3 or 4 weeks from actually completing a full year of not drinking coffee.  There were at least three reasons why I gave it up, but the most prominent reason, I suppose, was how my gut felt after drinking just one cup in the morning.  My body had changed. Back in the 80s and 90s, I could drink a four-shot espresso without any problems or any indication that it was beginning to rot out my gut - not now.

    About a year ago, and maybe a little before, I began having severe gastro problems after drinking two or three cups, so I cut it back to drinking just the one cup in the morning. Where I could (maybe 5 years ago) drink up to about 11:00 a.m., I found myself just having the one good cup in the morning, and I'm not talking about espresso- just coffee.  I told myself that I needed it, which was the real problem. People don't believe they can become addicted to it, but the truth is, they can.

    For many years, I only drank Starbucks coffee. I went (with my dog Faith) to more than 810 separate Starbucks stores all over the world, but after seeing firsthand how the company itself treated police officers and military personnel, I dropped them entirely and haven't looked back. I still have a $5 card I could give to someone, I suppose, but I'm not going to use it. I'm done with that brand - unless and until they reverse their treatment of good, solid folk who give their time and put their lives on the line daily so the baristas and administrators of Starbucks can be as liberal and narrow-minded as they are.

    The other reasons for dropping coffee were, of course, the caffeine and the cost when I went out. I talked myself into going half-caf for a while, then fully decaffeinated, but it just didn't stop the issues with my gut. I felt as if I had leaky gut, to be honest. I felt so drained, so lethargic, and puny. Here I was, thinking coffee was the great pick-me-up, and it was the one thing literally stopping me in my tracks. I gave it up for mushroom "coffee," and I've really never had a reason to look back - until now.

    I watched a long documentary about how coffee began in the early 1000s in Iraq and how it spread through China, Russia, Europe, and, many centuries later, to the New World. The first coffees were pure, made organically, and were considered by physicians of that time to be healing and good for both the body and the mind; maybe even the soul. Then, when it became commercialized, demanded, and fell into shorter supply, it was mass-produced, like most things. It lost its roots - it lost everything good about it.

    Later, in the 20th Century, with everyone in every country and its people wanting it, the only way to bring it from Africa, Asia, and Columbia was by boat - and there, the beans were sitting in bad conditions, drying out, getting stale, growing mold, and they may or may not be rinsed or washed slightly, before being roasted in large batches in industrial giant roasters before being ground incorrectly, measured out, packaged, distributed and sold. The result? Mold; in a word, mold. The coffee most people drink today, if it is mass-produced, has quite a bit of mold and mycotoxins in and on the beans. Google it. Try not to gag when you do.

    More than 91% of the coffee beans being sold today for mass production have both mold and mycotoxins. We consumed it. We didn't know, and we just kept on consuming it. It's a wonder we're even breathing when you look at some of the pictures of the beans that were washed to cover up the mold spots and smells before being sold to places who mixed the bad with the slightly better, and called it good -- it was anything but good.

    For example, I got this information straight from Google: Folgers, Maxwell House, and Starbucks brands rely on basic FDA compliance rather than being proactive with safety testing. They're trying to produce more for many, whereas smaller boutique roasters like Maud or Fabula want to satisfy fewer people, charge more, and produce a much better product. Folgers won't release a third-party lab report or verify a zero-trace purity test because they would be seen for what they are -- that's my opinion, but again, based on what I found online.

    Mass-produced coffee beans are among the most heavily chemically treated crops in the world. The smaller boutique roasters don't use these types of chemicals, and it's the chemicals, not the coffee beans, that cause all the issues in my gut - and probably every other drinker's gut. The Arabica bean, being one of the lowest in bitterness and acidity, is the better bean and is grown at higher altitudes, where mold risks are lower to begin with. I can't speak for all coffee brands, but Maud's is roasted in a California facility and uses only solar energy, adding cleaner production to the mix. I like that. (Less oil, less gasoline for machinery, etc.)

    So, this week, in fact, Monday, I will have my first cup of Maud's half-caf K-cup coffee, and I'll let you know what I think. I'm going for taste more than anything, but the antioxidants in coffee are another draw for me. I am hoping I have found a portal into the past, and can benefit from the way coffee was in the beginning - healthy and good for me. I'll let you know if it's worth it. I'm paying $14.99 for 16 cups. I pay $17 now for a bag that makes about 22 cups of mushroom coffee. I'll likely do both. I'll likely have one and then the other. 

    That's it. That's all I have for you right now. I will keep you posted, let you know what I think about the taste, the smoothness, the color, the smell, everything. Keep in mind, I may be rusty, but I'm willing to get back in the saddle. That's me using a couple of idioms to describe my life.

    

Book Review - Dion.

     Most of you know, if you know me, that I'm an author. I auth. I write, and I read, of course, but I really love creating stories and typing them up, editing them, publishing them, and sending them to print. I love it. If I could make a living doing it, that is exactly what I would do. Maybe someday that will happen, but until then, I have to remain steady, stable, and satisfied with being the ever-learning and helpful claims adjuster that I am. 

    Today I had a minute of excitement regarding one of my books, and to be perfectly honest with you, I couldn't have been more surprised or happier about it. One of the people I have the privilege of speaking with from time to time through my job called me to say she was feeling much better since she had become very ill in the spring, and that she was, in fact, returning to her job. That made me happy. I have to call her (or did, when she was working) nearly every week to discuss one of her work crews because they tend to break facilities belonging to one of my company's clients. To put it in a professional term that we use, she is a damager.

    As a damager, someone who damages, she isn't the one out there on the excavator tearing things up underground, but she's on the administrative side of things; she gets to take my calls where I tell her how much her company needs to pay my company, and we negotiate. I adjust, she accepts, we move forward to the next claim when it happens; and it will happen. She's the best, and I really was so happy to hear that she was doing better; so much better that she may be back to work in a few weeks.

    While she was out, in fact, while she was laid up in the hospital, she had time to read one of my books. The book is a novel, not one of my Nick Posh books. The book is titled "Dion," and the reason she had the book in the first place is that I wrote her into it! I made her a very wise and compassionate judge in the book; she gets to make people happy and, in a way, save the day. I won't say more; I don't want to give it away.

    Rena told me that while she was in the hospital, she had time to finish the book, and that she really enjoyed it. She stated very clearly that she wasn't "just saying that" because I wrote it, or because I put her in the book itself. She said if she had just picked it up and read it, not knowing anything about it, she would have liked it just as much. We both laughed a bit because "Dion" is sort of a...no, it's a really creepy, cringy book. I had to step out of my shell to write it. I had to use AI to give me prompts and ideas because I don't let my mind go to some of the places my keyboard went during the writing of that book.

    Still, just hearing that someone other than my good friends enjoyed the book made me happy. I don't often get to hear anyone say what they really think of my writing. I get the occasional surprised look when they think I've written something I wouldn't normally say out loud - that happens quite a bit, actually; more than you'd realize. Writing can be so very therapeutic if you let it be. You can get so much off your chest. You can say things you would never dare say in public. You can call people out; hell, you can murder them. I do it all the time - in my books.

    Being the picky person that I am, I wanted to know whether she found any glaring grammar errors in the book. I edit my books myself, so yes, you will find mistakes. You'll find the ones I couldn't find before sending them up for publication. I'm going through "Murder Book" now because I know I missed a few mistakes. I'm on Chapter 10 and have found at least six corrections. I'll go through the book by this time next week and send up the new files to correct the errors. If you want a book with more mistakes so you can tease me about it later, you should buy it now before the corrections are made.

    I'm going to go through all of the books, but unfortunately, I can't go through the ones on Kindle - just the prints. Sorry. I don't want to spend $215 to correct the files for Kindle. I only have to spend $25 to correct the books themselves. If I were rich, maybe. Then again, if I were rich, I'd have someone else edit them (no, I wouldn't).  It was so much fun to hear Rena go on about the book and how much she loved it. She shared it with her nurses and a physical therapist, too. She pointed out her name in the book, told them how the two of us met, and was so nice as to ask them to buy copies of that book and others I've written. 

    I write to write. I don't mind if they sell; that's great too, but I write to write. If someone likes what I've written, I'm amazed. I get a little silly inside when someone says they really enjoyed reading my books. I giggle, and I thank God for giving me a wild and crazy imagination. I told stories before I learned to write. I've told stories for as long as I can remember, making them up and telling my mom that my dog, Rover, told me what to say. I didn't want to be criticized, even at that age. The dog kept his silence; he was my first true fan.

Photo Credit: Magnific.com

Narrow Escape. (God is so Good)

     I couldn't believe what I was told today after I called the Oklahoma City Corporation Commission to discuss the land I had nearly purchased. I knew what I was getting into until I didn't. I was being trapped, forced, and coerced into buying something I didn't want, but with no good alternatives being offered, I was so close to being taken advantage of without much of an escape plan. That's where God came into the picture. He really does foresee just how bad the situation I've gotten myself into is, and He was able to fix it without me suffering more than I already had.

    The house I used to live in (House A) was situated on 14.4 acres of land. Over 5.5 acres of it were taken up by oil operations, specifically tank battery storage units, and a lease on the property didn't go to the land owner; it was withheld from him because he was stupid enough to buy the land on an "as-is" basis. The people selling the land to him did not even have a legal obligation to tell him he couldn't be paid for the surface rights, but they did. They told him that the surface lease and the mineral rights of the 5.5 acres remained with them EVEN THOUGH he purchased the 5.5 acres. 

    The 99-year lease began in 1978. Since about that time, the original owners of the property, the ones who refused to give the new owner the rights to his own property, were receiving more than $15,000 a year from the oil company who paid an annual lease for the surface and an additional unknown amount in terms of whatever the well was pumping out. I think the well was closed down in 1994; still, they received about $15,000 each year in rent for the land use.  Since the original owners never allowed the new owner to have the rights, it was the new owner's option to buy or not to buy - and he chose to buy. That's on him.

    The land surrounding the 5.5 acres is contaminated now. It has apparently been for years and can only get worse. This was verified today when I called and asked if there were any public records of the seepage or the drainage from the oil operations. The Corporation Commission has to keep tabs on all oil operations (wells, exploration, seepage, etc.), and they told me so. The land immediately surrounding the 5.5 acres, about 300-500 feet in all directions, was being contaminated. The house is less than 900 feet from the oil operations, and the backyard I would have purchased was right there in the thick of it.

    From time to time, Laura and I could smell a sulfur smell, and though it wasn't too bad and it didn't last long, ChatGPT told me today that it was a signal that there was, in fact, seepage and that it was bad enough to reach the house over 1000 away. I am so glad I didn't buy that house! I am so glad God got me out of that situation. I'm still very upset that neither realtor (mine or the owners') told me that FHA would not loan on such a home.

     My realtor knew - but I think she had dollar signs in her eyes. She's a very good realtor, but she had an obligation to tell me, and chose not to. When it was discovered, she blamed the lender. The lender accepted some responsibility, because he could have detected it long before he did, but he redeemed himself. It was my lender who helped me get out of the mess I found myself in.  He made sure I got the denial letter from FHA to force my realtor to find me another home.

    If I had stayed there, I would have had to put up with a house with cracked walls, cracks in the ceiling, underground sludge making its way to the place, and God only knows what else. The barn needed to be removed; the shelter had to be pulled out of the ground or decommissioned professionally. FHA refused to lend for a few reasons, all of which my realtor was aware of, but I guess she somehow just thought these issues would fix themselves. The place had a popcorn ceiling; it was built before 1978, so it was probably lead-based paint as well. I'm telling you, when I forgave the realtor, I really forgave her. (Jesus did it; I really wasn't wanting to do it myself, but He talked me into it.)

    Laura and I had to go by House A today because I forgot to update Walmart delivery with the new address. When Walmart delivered my groceries, I had to drive over to the old place to pick them up. When we went there, I saw something I had not seen before. I saw something I would have questioned immediately had I seen it, but I hadn't, and maybe the inspector found it, because in the TRR he mentioned that the house required piers. Today, I noticed that the entire house was lifted off one corner of the foundation by about 3/4 of an inch. WHAT?

    The corner of the house was 3/4 of an inch off the foundation. Yes, that corner required 11 piers, and the pier guys put them in before we signed, but I had never seen that corner the way I saw it today -- yet another thing that would have kept me from ever reselling the place.  I asked ChatGPT about it, and the result was that perhaps the guys who put in the piers back in November over-jacked the corner and the house came off the foundation bolts. Crazy!

     I doubt the owner ever finds a buyer. He may just have to raze the house and sell the 9.5 acres as hay pasture. That's the only thing it would be good for unless some other industrial place wanted it for storing something - it could be turned into a public storage area perhaps, but it wouldn't pass inspection for a restaurant. The area surrounding the land (if the house was razed) could be used for a number of commercial uses; but alas, I have zero interest in keeping up with them now. I'm just too happy to be free of the twists and turns that could have been churning inside my gut had I been forced to buy the property.

    Stepping back and looking at it from my new point of view is amazing. I wanted land for the horse farm, yes, but at the expense of my health? No. God was (and is) so good. We drove up to the house today, and it just didn't feel as good as it did several months back when we thought it would be our home. It's as if my rose-colored glasses have been removed and I see the place for what it is. I guess I'm a little upset with myself for not seeing it, but I was already in the middle of buying it when I found out—that won't happen again.

    In my next book, "The Trust", the buyers and the sellers come alive, and a lot of what happens to them happened to me, to the owners, to the sellers, to the realtors, and the lenders of both my new house and my old one. I want to be sure and get the warnings out where and when I can. I may not draw straight lines to the names and faces of those who were actually involved, but they'll know I came mighty close. I could have slapped a couple of ethics charges on two of the people involved, but again, Jesus wanted me to play nice. Mercy, He often reminds me, is for those who show mercy. I want mercy; I have to be willing to show it as well.

    

Photo Credit: Think Eternally

I Own (Mortgage) a House!

     It's so funny when we say "I own a house", when in reality, very few people actually own their home. They are more than likely, like me, to have a mortgage. However, it is true: I now have an actual mortgage. It's been right at 30 years since I have actually had a mortgage. Wow, when I think about it, or write it out loud like that, it seems incredibly incredible that it's true. I bought a house in 1996; I lived in it for about a year before having to sell it. Crazy.

    Moving Day(s) were tough on my body, mind, wallet, and emotions. I'm absolutely drained at this point.  Interestingly, the one part of my body that simply is refusing to forgive me is my hips. It's odd, but true. Right at the top of each hip, inside the joint that connects to the pelvis; I really didn't think I did that much lifting, but apparently I did. I feel like pulling my legs off like I used to with my Barbies, soaking them for hours in warm-to-hot water, then sort of snapping them back on.

    No house is perfect. There is always something you need to do to fix, improve, or tinker with it. Houses are great hobbies. I can already tell I'll be doing quite a bit just to make Oliver feel like he's part of the family. I'm thinking flowerbeds, extra fencing, lighting, outdoor cameras. We don't have a doorbell! I want one, but I want one with a little camera too, so I'll need to do a bit of research. (I'm thinking Laura can install it.)

    I'll tell you this much: I am ready to put down the damn sugar. Over the past 3 days, during the move, I've drunk more sugared drinks than I have in years. I have no idea why; maybe my body needed the energy to keep moving. I don't know, but it is time to say no!  Arizona green tea with Ginseng has 23g of sugar per serving, and the big cans have 2 servings. I've had 4 cans.  I've gone to Casey's and picked up several 44 oz teas that were mostly unsweetened, but I added 1/4 lemonade.  It's got to stop!

    We are 100% out of the old house and into the new. Our boxes are still not in the right rooms, but several of them have been unpacked and put away. We have so much more room here in the new house. We can bring everything in from the garage, put it in the center of the house, and still have room to move about. We'll do more of that tomorrow - or Laura will while I'm working. I've just about had it - I can't move. I may be able to stumble into the bathroom for another soak, but let me just say I've learned my lesson about jet tubs and foaming bath liquid.

    You should have seen it - which would have been OK if you did, because there's no way you could have seen me! It was straight out of a Lucille Ball skit; not kidding. I should have used much less foaming bath bubbles because, just like in the movies, when the strong bath jets kicked on, the entire room was flooded with white fluff. You couldn't find me if you tried. You could have heard me. I was laughing so loudly and trying to adjust the jets quickly to stop the tub from overflowing. Yes, it was that crazy! 

    Things will take a bit of getting used to, that's for sure. I am so glad I took off today as well as Friday, the actual start of the move. I needed this day to rest. If truth were told, I need a week to recover, but the good news is, I'll be sitting while I'm working, so my hips won't need to divorce me to find someone who won't abuse them. Who knew your joints could turn on you like that? Oh, but I found something at Walmart that will help—a liquid pain reliever in the medicine aisle. No, not the wine aisle, in the pharmacy!  It's Acetaminophen, but it's supposed to be helpful - we'll see.

    Our curtains came in, so I'm not taking a shower in front of an exposed window anymore. Laura was concerned. If she had it her way, we'd have blinds and curtains on every window 24/7, and no one could see in, not even the Sun!  I'm somewhat on the opposite side of the spectrum. I like light. I like lots and lots of light—but I can see her point. No one needs to see me taking a shower; not the 2026 me anyway. There was a time that perhaps it wouldn't have left as many scars on the eyes.

    I did have something funny happen today. The Amazon driver who delivered my things said: "Hey, you moved!" He recognized my name and remembered driving to the other house. It's sad, really, when you order so much online that the drivers know you, but then again, maybe it's not such a bad thing. He said he hated my driveway at the old place, that the cul-de-sac I live in now is much easier to get in and out of! See, there's always something good to come out of everything!

Photo Credit: FoamFacts.com

    

Moving Day - Part 2

     So, it's about 8:25 p.m. now, and I've signed on the dotted line; I've been given the keys and the garage door opener, and Laura and I have taken five loads over in the car. It was really too hot today (105) to do much more. We've waited for the evening to roll around, and we'll only have 97-degree heat to deal with. We are taking all the small boxes, bags, and things that can't close, because we don't trust them not to fly off the long trailer my friend Steve is going to bring over tomorrow morning.

    When I left you last, I was about to go to the bank to get the cashier's check for the closing.  The lender tells you the day before or so just how much you're to bring. He said the title company prefers it to be in a cashier's check, but you can also wire the money. I prefer the check too. I get a stub that way. The stub goes into the little book they make for you with all your hard-copy papers (copies of them), and you can keep the binder in a closet somewhere if you ever need to remember just how many times you can sign your name in one day.

    My realtor showed up 30 minutes late for the walkthrough, so I'm really glad I went to the bank early. It did mean driving 15 miles one way, but I met the bankers at the branch closest to my home. When I lived in the city, the ladies of the branch I went to were really sweet. The same can be said for the new branch, and every one of them wanted to be in my new book. Two out of three said they wanted to be "bad," so bad it is! I aim to please, when at all possible.

    Signing all 5000 forms to move only took about 40 minutes. To get back to the title company, I followed the realtor. I told her I could meet her there because I didn't want to take the highway. She decided to go the way I go, but she was leading, and instead of taking the route I would have taken, she took a shortcut. It ended up being 3 miles of long, winding roads that were 100% dirt and gravel -- no asphalt. To say I need to wash my car would be an understatement. I laughed because my realtor is a girly-girl, not someone you'd think would want to use four-wheel drive unless she was forced to.

    Moving went slowly - but steadily, and it will continue to do so tomorrow as well. We'll take our time, do it right, not overextend ourselves, and with luck and a prayer or two, we'll come out on the other side looking good. The new house is our new adventure. We'll make every day count. I've already met one of the neighbors, and so has Laura. I met a man named Jacob who works as an electrician. Laura met a feral blue-gray male cat that has probably never really interacted with humans - she'll name him and feed him outside.

    There's a Casey's convenience store nearby, so I swung in to pick up two tall cans of Arizona green tea, and decided to treat myself to a fountain drink -- I never do that. I went with something called a mango refresher...are you ready for the sugar count? The 32 oz cup has 124 grams of sugar and 480 calories, but hey, I did load it up with ice, so I'm sure that helps, right? OMG...I can't do that very often, but after the heat, the moving, and the stress of the day—bring it.

    So, I'm at the computer, and I'll have internet at this house through Sunday, so I'll use it. I'll keep my computer here and one monitor. I'll let Steve take the desks, which will mean I'll have to sit on the floor and use a box for a desk, but you know me; I adapt. I'm not picky. If it works, it works. I don't have to be fancy.  I did do something pretty fun today - I changed the address on my bank card, my bank account actually, which includes the card, and I changed the address on my Amazon and Walmart accounts. I use their delivery services.

    Tomorrow, because I ordered things on Amazon today, we have a few items being dropped off. If I had been smart, I would have had them delivered on Monday, but no one ever really accused me of using my brain the way it was designed to be used. I'll have to help Steve load, drop Laura off at the new house to wait on Amazon, and then come back and load up boxes he can't take in his trailer. She can unload at the house and set things up.  We should be done by this time tomorrow.

    We're taking Sunday to clean the old house, make sure all the small things are packed in smaller boxes, and then deal with any leftover trash, because between the loads we took today, someone came by our house and stole our trash can! Who does that? If you need a new can, the city will provide one. If you have three, the city won't pick it up unless you have a special mark by your name in their records. It just doesn't make much sense to steal a trash can!

    Oh well, that's about it. We'll be measuring windows for blinds tomorrow too. We have curtains and rods, but we do want blinds on the windows too. Laura will be exhausted all weekend - she'll rest when she can and keep her friends online laughing while she tells them all about her moving experience this time around. Round two starts at 9:00 a.m., so we're gonna hit the shower, go to bed, and wake up ready to roll.

Photo Credit: Milo's sanctuary.

MOVING DAY - Part 1

     Finally!! It is moving day, closing day, house day!! I'm beside myself with glee.  Glee is an amazing word. I like it. It fully captures what I'm feeling right now. It eliminates fear, anxiety, somberness, worry, and all those other things I was feeling before I was allowed to feel glee. It is finally here; I'm finally going to move. I've been living with boxes and crates in my house for nearly three weeks now, just waiting! It is time to haul them all over to the new house; to Oliver.

    Sometime today, I'll need to update all my internet pages to let everyone know my new address. Of course, when I order again from Walmart or Amazon, I can do it too, but I want to be sure every T is crossed and every I is dotted. (Ironically, you don't dot a capital I, and you still cross a capital T.) It's been such a long and arduous journey; one we really didn't need to be a part of. I sort of feel as if I have been standing in line at one of those rides at Six Flags, and when I tried to step out of line, the crowd pulled me back in, and I have to go on the roughest, highest, steepest, most terrifying roller coaster known to humans. Yes, that is exactly how it felt.

    The ride has peaked! I have taken the last turn, been turned upside down a couple of times, and the damn thing got stuck during one of those rotations! I was hanging onto the bar in front of me with one hand and holding Laura with the other. I couldn't even bow my head to pray properly for fear it would tip the car, but we prayed. We prayed, and we prayed a lot. We asked others to pray, and then, after all that, we prayed again. I think maybe Jesus likes roller coasters, and He must like dragging me with Him when He rides them. He knows it's going to turn out OK, but ding and dang! C'mon!

    So, it's about 9:15 a.m., and I will meet my realtor at Oliver at 11:45 a.m. for the "walk through," which I feel is completely unnecessary, but apparently, it's a realtor thing. Then we drive separately, of course, over to the title company. I'll run by the bank first to pick up my cashier's check for closing. The bank is only half a mile from the title company.  We close at 1:00 p.m., and I get my keys. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Laura will be in the various rooms of the house, bringing the boxes from each into the living room for easier access.

    We're going to move as many boxes as we can, and the television, and anything we don't want on the back of the long trailer our friend is bringing to move my heavy things. If we can get everything done except the heavy things, that will save him time and let us get more done. He's coming tomorrow, so we have the whole afternoon and evening to get as much as we can into the new house. Since Oliver is only 1.1 miles from my old house, I think we can get a lot done.

    It feels real. It feels as if it is really happening instead of a dream. It feels good, and it feels permanent. I wanted so badly to call this house my permanent house, but it wasn't meant to be. I can't know why, but it wasn't meant to be. It hurt to find out that it wasn't going to be our house. We put a lot into it. We put a lot of hope, dreams, prayers, plans, and money into it, but in the end, it was only a temporary fix. 

    Laura told me yesterday that she was proud of me for going through what we've gone through. I thanked her, but I think emotionally, she was the one who truly suffered the most. She had to give up her horses and, in fact, her heart horse - again. She's had to do that more than once, and no one should have to. She had to pull out and destroy her garden. She had to give her chickens back. I was just paying money and trying to figure out what would happen if it all fell through.

    Jesus!  That's the truth. He is the answer. He is the only answer. In fact, even though He likes to take me for these crazy spins now and again, I still trust Him. I will always trust Him. I don't know what He's got planned, but it's always better than what I wanted in the first place. Let the games begin! Breakfast, then the walkthrough, then the closing, then the move. It's a glorious and wonderful day.  

    Happy Birthday Oliver Ernest Stringfellow! 

    

CLEAR TO CLOSE!!! (Best Words)

     "Clear to Close" can be some of the best and most anticipated words you'll ever hear. I'm over here dying, just waiting for the lender to get with me and tell me that I'm good to go. It's been so hard, so very, very hard just waiting for him to say it's a go. Let me start by saying it shouldn't have been this difficult, and I wouldn't wish what I've been through on my enemy's best friend. Do you hear what I'm saying? It was, in fact, the worst damn experience, and yet, just like having a baby, you nearly forget the agony once you've pushed through.

    Well, just like having a baby, I do have a name for my new house. I've decided to name him Oliver. I'm letting Laura give him a middle name - she chose Ernest. (Not earnest as in money we had to put down, but after my grandpa.)  Oliver Ernest Stringfellow is my new house. He'll be baptized soon, and given a very good blessing. He'll be dedicated to God, and when we say "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord", we mean it. He'll understand. I'm sure he'll be happy that a permanent resident is living in him rather than a lot of different rental dwellers.

    Since the last resident, he's gone through quite a change. He was nearly gutted and restored. He had a complete makeover and, in some cases, was completely renovated. He has new kitchen flooring, cabinets, countertops, and appliances. He has new lighting too. Some of his walls were reworked, moved, redone, painted, and trimmed. He has many new features. I'm not thrilled about the carpet, but I'll live with it a year or so and then redo the rooms that have carpet; at least my office. I hate not being able to roll around easily in my chair. (Such a first-world issue)

    Clear to close! It means we don't have to worry anymore. We don't have to question whether the credit was high enough, whether the bills were paid off, or whether the loans and the paperwork were explained and given merit. I had to answer some really silly questions about things that didn't matter in 2026, considering the last time I even thought about that particular debt or paid off credit was over twenty years back. I worried about tax returns. I worried if I still owed anything. I worried that FHA was going to pull the rug out from under this one, like they did the last one.

    The last week has been miserable with all the questions FHA had, and the down payment assistance program OHFA asked for, too. We had to click every box and hold our breath, hoping I hadn't been overpaid or something. You have to be above a level and below a level. Then, out of the blue, a $192 bill appeared that hadn't been on the radar in over six years. In reality, it was a credit owed to me, but if I disputed it, I would have to wait 30 days! I just paid it. Then, because I paid it, my lender had to put a rush on the rescore, which meant he had to pay for it!

    This week, in fact, just two days ago, I had to take out the credit card that I had paid down and go out to dinner to be sure it was still in use! These people are really just too picky. Too, too, too picky!  It has to be JUST SO—which is next to impossible to make happen and even more so to maintain. Over the last month, my credit scores have been going up and down again because, when you apply for a loan, every creditor you've had pops up claiming you owe them. You don't, but if you dispute them, it takes 30-45 days to be disputed and another 30 days to be eliminated from the bureau! You just pay them.  One was over 18 years old, so I didn't pay it and let the hit happen. It didn't ding me too badly. I put it in the dispute and will let that one ride itself out.

    My stomach has gone through it too. I've been too close to my toilet for weeks on end due to the stress. I can't eat correctly. I do drink a lot of water and tea, but I've been unable to even think about being healthy. I just had to keep my mind occupied, so I wouldn't think about the endless possibilities of what sort of trouble I would be in if I wasn't able to close. I am literally out of my rental contract tomorrow, the same day I'm moving! My landlord is nice, and he's letting me come back on Saturday to clean.

    I worked this week, but it was really hard to focus. In my job, I call people who owe our clients money, and I'm supposed to be professional and nice. I wasn't nice. I found myself being less than nice, so I stopped calling people and just handled all interactions via email. I didn't want to subject anyone to my personal struggles - that wouldn't be fair. Once I got the go-ahead today, I was much, much nicer to everyone, and I could breathe again. It feels good to breathe.

    Certain songs and hymns, as well as passages from the Bible, kept me going, but I can tell you, I was not always in a praising mood. I had to literally pray through it a 1000 times, and even though I knew I was going to be OK, you aren't OK until FHA says you're OK.  If, for whatever reason, they decide to hold you up, they can, and you don't have a say in it. You just have to wait and jump through whatever hoops they decide you need to make a go of it — it's exhausting!  

    Finally -- today at 1:50 p.m. I got that email I wanted. "Clear to Close" and with it, the smiling face of my lender, Josh DeBlase of The Money Store. Now, all I need to do is figure out exactly how much I'm bringing to the closing table tomorrow. I had a number. It was a good number too, but as everything else changes, it changed as well. I'm really hoping it's lower. I can't know, but I know I'll be OK. Thank God, and I mean it when I say it, THANK YOU, GOD!!

    

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

Not Yet!

     I am learning so much, and the thing is, I'm not doing anything to learn it. I'm simply sitting here at the old house, just waiting to be allowed to close on the new house. I'm learning that people who take vacations have a right to do so, but their employers don't give a damn about anyone really, because if they did, they'd find other people who were qualified to handle the cases left on the desks of the people who are vacationing. This is the situation I am facing now with the agency paying the down payment assistance. They are short-staffed.

    They are short-staffed and unable to schedule more than a few closings a day. This means those of us who are waiting to close on a house have to wait until they have enough staff to run their office and handle the paperwork or whatever is needed to send the closing papers to the lenders who have people like me bottlenecked and waiting to be allowed to sign on the dotted line. It makes me wonder, just as I wrote that, just how long the term "sign on the dotted line" will be with us. After all, we don't sign anything on lines really - it's all electronic.  I suppose it does resemble a line - and my signature sort of resembles my actual signature.

    Well, whatever happens, it is supposed to have already happened, and now we don't know when it will happen, but we know it wasn't today, and we know it isn't tomorrow. Wednesday isn't looking great, but I'm being told that if they can get the paperwork to my lender on Wednesday, we will be able to move on Friday. Then, almost as if on cue, my realtor wrote to say she has another closing on Friday and doesn't know if she can make it. I have three words for her: "Yes, you will". 

     It is unbelievable how people can simply go on vacation knowing others are waiting to exchange a quarter of a million dollars from one party to the next. That's just me. I'm just one of several, one of many, I'm sure. Sure, people deserve to go on vacation, but if you do - that doesn't mean the world stops turning! There needs to be backup. There needs to be stand-ins; there needs to be prearranged arrangements for those times. Surely, there are other employees who can be trained to take over for a day or so, so that the flow of commerce isn't so abruptly interrupted.

    Let's take my circumstance: I am the buyer. I will sign to take over the house from a seller. Those people need their money from the sale to get into the house they are waiting to buy. There are insurance companies to consider, electricians, plumbers, fencing companies, utility vendors, and internet service providers who have been scheduled and then rescheduled, and yes, again and again, rescheduled. There comes a point where they just say, "call me when you're actually closing", as if you (I) have anything to do with them being put off. I have NOTHING to do with it.

    What about the man who owns the house I'm in now? Why should he have to wait for me to clear out? He wants to get it fixed up and back on the market. What about the people selling their place to the people I am buying my place from? The list goes on and on.  If the group of people who are causing the bottleneck has never experienced this, it would be surprising. I could bet, and probably win that bet, that they've been in this situation a number of times. Maybe the summertime is the worst time to buy or sell a house because of this particular glitch; I have no idea. What I do know is that I really hope I never have to experience it again.

    I've Googled it, and I'm being told that lenders, realtors, buyers, sellers, and everyone simply have to wait on the agency if they want their down payment assistance. It's their game, their ball, their field, and their call. We're just at their mercy, and I suppose we're expected to smile and thank them for their service. It's a 2nd mortgage, so they get the money back in time. They could at least have a little more respect for the process; that's all I'm saying.

    It looks like it is likely going to happen on Friday. The last day of the month. This means I don't even get to take advantage of a single day of free mortgage time other than the 31 days of August. If I were to close August 3, Monday, I'd have 28 days in August and all of September before I had to pay the first mortgage payment - I can't win. I just can't win. Oh well, I may as well suck it up and just keep smiling. Soon, and very soon, I'll be out of this place and into the new one. This entire experience will be behind me, and I can relax and let the stress turn into a fart and leave my body! 

    

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

Growing VERY Impatient.

     It is the 25th of July, and I was supposed to be completely moved by today. I had a closing date of May 18 for the first house, then June 18th for the same house, and that's when we were told it wasn't going to happen. We weren't going to close on the original house. So on June 19, I was out looking for new houses, and I only had until July 21 to get out of this one. That's not great. I don't know about you, but I like to take my time when I'm looking at an investment; after all, your house is the most expensive thing you'll probably ever buy.

    I had 31 days to find and close on a house. That's what we were told, and that is how we operated because it just made sense to do all we could do as fast and as effectively and efficiently as we could. The first house I looked at was wonderful. It met all my needs, but the seller was unwilling to sell it for what it was worth. He was holding out for what he wanted, and the difference was too great for me to consider. We wasted almost a week with that house—we were losing precious time. Thankfully, the landlord allowed us to stay until we close. 

    My realtor found the one we're going to move to. It was on the MLS list, but didn't pop up when I pulled houses up using the same criteria she used. I don't know, but I think realtors have secret gems they and they alone know about. Anyway, she showed us this one, and it was too expensive, but it would have to do.  The difference is, it would appraise for what the sellers were asking for. It did, in fact, appraise for $9000 more, and that's what I ended up paying - $9000 more than an already expensive house. Don't ask me why - it's complicated.

    "Creative financing" is what it is called. The lender did his thing in order to force the sellers to come up with a lot more money at closing than I needed to bring. It was all about credits, not cash, so yeah, I had to buy the house for more, to essentially get the credits, so I didn't have to drum up $$$ at closing. It works, but there is a catch. I am paying more for about a year, then I'll refinance and lower the payment. Geez...no one tells you these things when you set out to buy a house. They smile and help you bend over every other step of the way.

    Every weekend for the past four weekends now, I've driven by the house to look at it. I check out the neighborhood, see if anyone is walking around. I check the garages, the porches, and the yards of the people around me to see what type of neighbors I have. I am so happy that no one is a junk-car collector, nor do they have 6 or 7 cars up on ramps in their front yards. Everyone seems to be respectful of others. We have a lot of American flags, garden gnomes, potted plants, and porch benches. I'm about to buy a porch bench myself.

    If I'm in town looking at my house, I always swing by S&S Bargains on Bickford so I can browse and see what I can't live without. I found two things today: the bench I was telling you about, and the queen-sized tribal blanket. I asked Steve (co-owner with his wife Shelly) if he knew who made the blankets and which tribe they are from. He said they were basically representative of Native cultures, but not necessarily one or two individual tribes. They can't be called a Navajo print, or a Chickasha print. They are just simply beautiful, colorful, and have a really nice vibe. I bought one.

    I bought the bench too. As I was writing this blog, I realized that if I don't buy the bench, someone else will, and I'll have to buy one, and Laura will have to put it together. The same bench online is $149, and she'd rather I didn't make her put it together, so yes, I got back into the car, drove back to S&S, and paid $100 for the bench. Since Steve is the one helping me move, he'll keep it at his place until he brings the trailer over to move my household to Oliver.

    I know it sounds crazy, but I do prefer naming a house rather than just living in it without giving it a name. I pray over it. I'd rather say "Lord, please watch over Oliver" than "please watch over my house." It's a personal thing.  I decided I'll put a lot more time, effort, and money into keeping Oliver pretty, decorated, maintained, and protected. I'm getting cameras for the four corners of the house, a Ring doorbell, and maybe a really cool projector for my bedroom so I can lie in my bed with my dogs and watch the ocean, the planets, or something else all around me. I think at least one of the dogs will appreciate it.

    We are waiting for FHA to pull the trigger. All of my paperwork is done. I've signed everything; they've checked my employment, bank statements, taxes, and credit. All of the boxes are checked. I'm literally just waiting for them to have time to meet us for the closing. We were told it was Friday, then we were told it was Monday. Now, we're being told it will be this coming week - but no exact date. It makes it hard to call the utility companies and have things put into my name, but I decided to just do it, and it won't make a difference if it is just a few days. The one I can't have go ahead is the fiber for the internet - they need to go inside my attic.

    My hauler, Steve, is very patient. He'll be available when I need him, and that's wonderful. I try to buy what I can from him if he's got it. I don't need new things all the time. I will say that my linens and blankets, and such, will be new, but I buy furniture from Steve.  I think I'm good - I think I have just about all I need.  We will have to keep a better eye out for the Amazon drivers because we're not in the country, and there could be porch thieves. I'm hoping the cameras will deter them. We'll see.  We haven't had anyone steal anything even when we lived in the middle of the urbanized city we moved from, so hopefully there will not be an issue now.

    It's hard to wait—it is so very hard to wait. All of the rooms in my house are boxed up. I have only a few clothing items out and have washed them because the rest are packed. Things are packed; they are in the way, in the hall, in the center of each room, and just waiting to be loaded, then unloaded, and eventually unpacked. It will happen. I know it will happen, but I am not waiting patiently. I'm just waiting - trying to smile.  Knowing what I am going to do soon keeps me going. Driving by Oliver is both helpful and sad. I want to move, and I know it will be soon, but it isn't happening just yet.

    At least now that Oliver will be home to a permanent family instead of all of the rental families he's been a house for, he'll be loved, cared for, and decorated. He'll stand out, and he'll be welcoming. He'll be the house in the corner with the bright porch, the happy lights, and the barking dogs -- yes, we do have those, but others do too. I spoke to my neighbor's dog today, as a matter of fact. I thought it was a husky, but it's a husky and collie mix - so pretty. I told him/her to wait—just a little longer.

Photo Credit: Me. I bought it. S&S BARGAINS in El Reno, OK.

Closing Date is SET!

     Last year at this time, I was living in Oklahoma City in a nice little house, but it was not in the best of areas. It was the only house in the Lake Stella complex; every other residence was an apartment. I lived in the Lake Stella apartments for 9.5 years (the last time), and then Laura and I moved to the house in July 2024.  I remember thinking I would probably never leave; they'd have to carry me out and bury me. I thought I had found my forever home. 

    Well, as it turns out, driving around the City of El Reno for no reason whatsoever other than I liked the drive from the city, and I liked the city of El Reno, ended up giving me the feeling that I could actually buy a house in El Reno, and probably be just as happy as I was in my new little rental. I had lived in the house one year, and it was nice, but it had issues. We couldn't let our dogs out for more than 10 minutes at a time without neighbors complaining of their barking. Hello, we have dogs! It's allowed!

    I got in my car, drove to El Reno, and began looking at places to live in my mind. I found dozens of places I really liked, and after I got home, I looked them up on Zillow and found out I could own a house for about what I was paying in rent. There would be other costs associated with moving; I knew that, but I was working, and I knew if I saved for 6-10 months, I could do it. I needed to have been on my job for two years, and that would happen in about 8months, so yeah, I made a plan in my head to do just that - move to El Reno, Oklahoma, and buy a house of my own choosing! (That didn't happen)

    Did I mention I have a daughter who lives with me? She has always, since the day she was born, planned my life. I don't really have to think about anything - she has it all worked out. I just have to fork out the money -- again, it's always been that way. Laura didn't want just a house. She wanted land. She wanted to start a horse rescue, and if we were moving, we may as well do it for the last time -- good plan. We found a place, and since neither the realtor nor the lender said it wouldn't work, we put a contract on the house in October -- 6 months before my two-year anniversary at work. (We should have waited)

    As time went by, I regretted the contract in so many ways. It was too expensive when it came right down to it, and then there were the other expenses, the horses! We put far (well, I put far too much) too much money into the livestock, the fencing, the accessories, the tools, the equipment, and it added up very, very quickly. I was flat over my head, but I kept telling myself it would all work out - some day. It didn't work out. I was stuck. Late into the contract, after we had a closing day set, my lender told me that FHA would not fund the house; not the way it was. The horse ranch part of it needed to be cut away from the house part of it, because there were oil operations too close to every part of the back acreage. It was a no-go.

    I can't tell you how upsetting it was. I can't tell you because if I get started, I'll really let out the wildcat inside of me, and it won't be pretty, and I'll end up cussing, cursing, sending damnations out, and it wouldn't look good for a Christian woman to do that; it just wouldn't be good. I'll stop myself before I start myself. We couldn't buy the house, and the sellers refused to split it so we could at least have a house and 3 acres to have a couple of horses for Laura's sake - nope, they said no, and flat refused. We had to leave. Leaving meant selling literally everything I had sunk my hopes into and everything Laura had wanted - gone.

    We were given just 26 days to find a house and to have it inspected, and to have it worked on, and closed before our rental agreement came to a close - an abrupt close. The sellers of this house did finally concede to allowing up enough time to find the house we needed and to close, but trying to find one that would pass inspection, FHA appraisal, and our own preferences was going to be really hard. So, what did we do? We picked the one my realtor said would appraise for what they were wanting. There are and have been too many houses for sale that silly sellers think will appraise for more than they are worth. Did you know, the bigger a house is, the more likely it is to appraise because the price per square foot is lower? Crazy!

    We ended up with a bigger house than we have ever lived in. It is 2148 sf, and that's not including the basement. It has a real basement with its own sub room -- not kidding. The new house was not the one we would have picked, but we love it. It's massive, but we'll survive. It's expensive, but again, we'll make it happen. The thing is, we were told we have to close by July 24 and this was AFTER I had sunk another $839 for inspections and $1500 for earnest -- they told me I had to close by July 24 or lose that money too...just like I lost it when I put down $640 for inspections, and $1500 earnest on the house I live in now...not to mention over $13,000 in livestock and fencing.

    The lender saved me. He has saved me a few times. He had the wherewithal to ask me to buy the house for what it appraised at so we could ask the sellers to bring far more money to the table than they wanted to. They didn't want to fix anything, but they had to. It was in the contract, and what needed to be fixed were things that FHA wasn't going to allow anyone to buy/loan unless they were fixed. Too many sellers think their older homes will go "as is," but FHA doesn't do "as is," and more than 80% of homes are purchased by people needing a loan. (I didn't know that and about 99 other things until I found myself swimming in all the muck I've been swimming in during the two sales of these two houses.)

    To say I've been through the wringer would be a better experience than what I've been through. I promised God I wouldn't lose it when I wrote about it, but He knows. He's the one who had to scrape me off the floor a few times, and wipe my face after I'd been bawling for hours over nearly everything that could go wrong, and a dozen things no one expected would or could go wrong. They all happened. They all happened one right after the other, and then the lender came in and saved me again and again and again. I really love that man!

    Friday - it happened FRIDAY of last week. Josh DeBlase of The Money Store texted my realtor and me, telling us it was done. We had a closing date. He believed it was going to be July 24, but he spoke too soon. We did have to amend it because the sellers haven't been able to get the electrician in to do what they need to do in order to meet FHA standards. I will now meet with Josh, my realtor, the sellers, and the Title people at The Chicago Title Company on Monday, July 27, 2026, and we will close the house! There is just something extraordinary about that -- and I thank God for the result.

    Josh worked the numbers and made it possible for me to come to the closing with only $1971 out of my pocket since I've been out so much already for this and the new house, and though I will never get back what I spent on the livestock and fencing, I know never to do it again - and I know that the experiences we had here were not bad - 99% of them were really good. I would have stayed if I were allowed to stay. It felt like home.  

    A new chapter. The last house, I hope. I do hope this is it. If Laura has to have a horse rescue in the future, she'll have to carry the burden alone. I can't do it anymore. I just can't. I know she knows, and I know she understands and respects my decision. Our house will be better than accommodating; it will be a bright, bold, beautiful place to live. We'll decorate the front yard for several holidays, mingle and get to know the neighbors, and be really active in the community. That's not something we could do in the country - we're city folk now.

    We went over the facts, and one of them is that even though we lived around children, we didn't see children at the apartments or at the little house. We haven't had children running around the house and neighborhood since 2014. It will be nice to see them again -- there's a park right behind our house, and I know we'll get a load or twelve of them on Halloween. We now live in that sort of neighborhood. We now live in a hood that flies the American flag, rocks the porch decor, has impromptu block meetings in the cul-de-sac, and the school bus comes by our house too -- every day.

    It's a good day. Monday, July 27, 2026, will be a great day. The utilities are scheduled to be switched, the internet will be transferred, and my good friend is moving me with his 16-foot trailer - I don't even have to get a U-Haul. I love our community. I love that I just had to ask, and people were willing to be there -- I know I will be there for them as well. One year ago, I wanted to be here. I'm here, and I am not going to leave.

AI fun.