Beetle Mania...I Have It.

     Back in the day, way, way back, sometime around the first day of Kindergarten, which for me was in 1967 (I was 5, almost 6), I fell in love with the Volkswagen Beetle, and no one would ever, and no one has ever, come between me and my car. I have owned a number of them on paper. I would buy them, register them, have them fixed, and I'd drive them out to California to sell because I knew I could literally get 3x as much for them as I could in Oklahoma. This was me, several years past my Kindergarten years, but I knew then, and I continue to believe, that the Volkswagen Beetle is God's gift to the automobile world.

    I sold 11 cars that way - one wasn't a Beetle at all; it was a 1968 Kharman Ghia, and that in and of itself is a story worth an entire blog. I not only sold it for 4x what I could have gotten in Oklahoma, but it wasn't really running that well when I sold it. My parents had to send my brother out to Arizona to save me when I broke down for the 4th time along the way. When I did sell it, my parents put it on the back of their flatbed and drove it out for me so Mom could see the ocean!

    I'd buy a Bug for around $1000, have it fixed for around the same, and end up selling it for $6000, sometimes as much as $7500. It took 2 days to drive out to L.A. from Oklahoma City, and I could catch a red-eye back for literally $99. When in L.A., I had several places to stay, including a mansion in Beverly Hills that I occasionally watched. I'd let them know I was coming out, and off I went - never once worrying too much about too much.

    There's a really wild and crazy story to tell about that Ghia, but it's not the time for it. This blog is about my new car! That's right, I'm planning to buy myself a Bug, and this time, unlike 10 out of the 11 other times, I'm keeping it. I did keep one of my Bugs: Sir Gub Elteeb, a 1968 white 12-volt, 1600 cc Bug with rusted floors, no seat belts, and a rattling noise I could never pin down. He was awesome!!

    I'm at the point in my life where I think I deserve, and know I want, another VW Bug. This time, unlike all the other times, it's me who will be spending way, way too much on it, but there's a good, solid, realistic reason. I'm going to get one that is not only street-worthy, but has been run through a fine-toothed mechanical comb, and it will have as few issues as possible for a 55- to 60-year-old car.

    If I could customize it, I'd make sure it was another 1968, white, 1600 cc, 12-volt air-cooled Bug, but there are so many really good ones out there that are already painted, and I can't see myself spending $3000 for a new paint job if I don't need to. I could; that's not the issue, but if I don't need to, I won't. Still, my heart is stuck on my old memories, and Gub was, in fact, my dream car. I'm chasing a dream from 1986 when I had to let him go.

    Lately, I've been looking on Hagerty, Streetside Cars, eBay, and a few other well-known sites to find the right car. I'm looking at this stage, I won't buy for another minute or two. I am waiting for the right time. It's coming, but it's not here just yet. I'm going over every inch of the cars I like and taking notes on what I like about this one or that one, and if the one I find doesn't have that feature, I'll see whether adding it would be too much. If not, I'll add it. For instance, I love the wide painted wheels and rims—I want a pool ball for a shifter knob, but I don't know whether I want a red glittery ball or an 8-ball.

    I know I like the lined cages that go over the headlights, but I don't like the eyelids or the crazy "flower power" accents some of the Bugs have.  I like standard mirrors, not the swan-necked mirrors. I like the wider chrome bumpers in front and back.  I like the taller seats in front with good padding, and I'll have to customize the accelerator pedal to be about 1" shorter than the standard - they're too long and get stuck. (not fun)

    I could get a project car and spend $10,000 fixing it, but I think I want one that is already done. I want one that has already gone through the mill and come out the other side smelling like the rosebud it is. I don't want issues. I want a very classic ride that I can enjoy driving around town and listening to the putter-putter splat of the engine. I swear, that sound could rock me to sleep. I need to see if I can record it and play it on loop at night instead of the ocean waves I listen to.

    I found a red Bug that had all the bells and whistles I wanted, and the owner was funny; in her description, she said the car had a slight oil leak, but it could be fixed with bubble gum. You have to know to know—I laughed. I really wish I had the money to put out today for the Bug because her friend would become mine.  It won't be much longer—hopefully before Christmas, but if not, I'm patient. I can wait.  (I mean, I've waited since 1986, right?)

    In High School, everyone wanted a muscle car. I graduated in 1979, and nearly every girl wanted a Cutlass Supreme, and every boy wanted a 442, Camaro, Mustang, or GTO. I wanted a Bug. I just wanted my little Bug. My first car wasn't one; it was, in fact, a 1977 Chevy Monza, because my dad didn't share my passion for German engineering. Eventually, not too long after I graduated, I bought the first one - then the next, then the next, then the next - and off I went off into the sunset, selling bugs, not drugs, and making good money.

    But now - that life is not for me. I will buy one, keep it, love it, and garage it. I will spoil it and give it the best life possible. Who knows, maybe we can grow old together. We both have a pretty good start.

Photo Credit: Streetsideclassics.com 

    

I May Have Retired. (Not Sure)

     I learned today that I may have retired. I say that with my tongue against my cheek, but at the same time, it may be true. I worked for over two and a half years for a claims management company as a remote employee. I worked from home, meaning I wore my pajamas most days, but I was nice enough (and professional enough) to wear a decent T-shirt in case we were asked to be on camera.  I was happy about the arrangement even if I wasn't completely thrilled about waking up earlier than I prefer. I'm not really a grouch, but sleeping in has its benefits and its comforts.

    Well, I was terminated from my job, as I mentioned in my last blog. I was literally let go for reasons that would baffle the mind(s) of anyone with a moral compass. I won't go into it because I don't want anything I say online to hurt my chances of regaining what is truly mine through the impending legal action that is imminent. I was wronged, and instead of being really mean, nasty, or loud about it, I'll let the lawyers do what they do. I did what I did for years, and they can do what they do without my interference.

    Today, I went through my bank accounts and did the math on my immediate, near, and future-future. I'll be OK. I will likely announce an official retirement in the future, maybe after the first of the year, but I think I may have stumbled quite unexpectedly into my personal retirement from working in Corporate America. It may not be true; I may be persuaded to go back if the conditions are favorable, but I think it may have happened - and I'm not upset about it.

    Obviously, when someone steps away from employment at the end of their working years, they've either set themselves up for success, or they've stored away a bit of cash or assets to make their golden years more comfortable. I'm one of those who made significant plans long ago, and while I may not be on the same tier as others, I feel confident in moving forward with the cards I have been dealt. Any financial gain from the company will be nice; it will add to the mix.

    Beginning next week, after I rest a few days, I'll start Forex up again, but this time with a more serious tone. I'll need to retune myself and practice for a month or so on the demo account until I'm back up to the 55% win ratio I enjoyed before I went back to work, but I think this could be it. I have the books, of course, and I'll keep priming the pump to promote them. They are a smaller source of income, but one that has been steady enough. Maybe with a bit more promotion, or maybe a really juicy book about corporate corruption, I can hit a new high in sales!

    When the world hands you lemons, remember who made those delicious treats in the first place: Jesus!  If it weren't for Him, I would be so far out in left field, even the Savannah Bananas couldn't find me. Jesus is so very good. He is so very good - and He is so very good to me.  I know all about heartbreak, heartache, heartburn, and heartfelt thoughts. I've had them all. He has been with me the entire time, and He's led me to an understanding that I don't have to seek revenge; that's for Him. I only have to be still and let Him do what He does best.

    "Be still and know that I am God"  (Psalms 46:10) is so much deeper than most think.  The very essence of the first word, "be," is eternal. You must exist to be. You can't be on your own, or by your own doing. We are all being literally every second of every moment. We are; therefore, we "be".  The next word, "still", that's the hard one. I can be all day, but to remain still and do nothing - that's the challenge. The next part is the promise: if I am still, I can then KNOW that HE is God. He is God not because I believe; He is God because He is God.

    So, if I go back to work, or if I write, I am being. If I work, I can still do Forex, and I am being. While I am being, I will rest in Him. I will pray and ask Him for His guidance, His mercy, and His way, because I suck at ways. I suck really bad at ways. I found myself so relaxed yesterday after realizing it had come to a close, and nothing tied me to that company except good memories of some of the wonderful people I worked with and met through my employment. But being unconnected doesn't mean I won't continue to pursue what is rightfully mine - because I am... 100%.

    I've not woken up to an alarm clock in a week now. I like that. I've rested, I've calmed down. No one is complaining to me about anything, really. I don't feel the need to fix this or that for anyone who may or may not owe the company money. It's the company that now owes me. I did my part. I'll sit back and practice being still. It's the least I can do, and it comes with the most benefits; strange, but true.

Photo Credit: USA Today

TERMINATED -- But I'm OK!

     Before I grew up and the world became so cold, calculating, and terribly cruel, I was able to blow through employment opportunities with the whim of a butterfly, flapping, skipping, and landing here, then there, but always landing somewhere. I must have had a dozen jobs before I turned 16! My first job lasted a little over three hours. I was a waitress at just over 14 and 1/2 years old, but when my dad found out I was carrying beer from the counter to the tables at a burger and pizza joint, he pulled the plug.

    Maybe it was because I literally walked next door to my former place of employment and secured a job for myself within a day that I never really thought keeping one was a problem or even a necessity. It was the 70s; what can I say. Things were different then, and certainly so much easier for a kid to find work. Today, corporate America has to worry about taxes, laws, overworking a kid, etc., etc.; those were better days, and we had better music as well.

    When I lost a job back then, I'd call my best friend up and say something like, "I'm free Friday to go to the game. My boss and I had a disagreement about what hours I should work, but apparently, he's agreed to let me go to the game with you. I'm not entirely sure if the word 'terminated' means I can return, but I assume he's happy for me." Once I remember saying, "It was a mutual agreement between myself and my employer that I should no longer work for the establishment."  Even in my teens, I had a way with wording the not-so-good announcements.

    Today, well, it's completely different. I was just terminated from a job I've held for a little over 2.5 years. I LOVED that job. It was the epitome of fun and easygoing, with very little pressure, and the only stress I had was deciding whether to tell the truth. In a position like that, I'm reminded why I worked for myself for as many years as I did. I won't lie to people. I won't lie for my boss. I won't lie for the company. I won't lie for the client. At the end of the day, I lie down - and when I lie down, I'm always (daily) reminded that I answer to Jesus, not to anyone else - EVER.

    So, I refused to lie. I refused to cover up. I refused to turn my head and ignore what I found. I don't have to go into it. I don't have to be dramatic. Suffice it to say, Jesus will bless me for standing alone and telling the truth, even if others in positions over me choose not to. My grandpa used to tell me that standing with God, even if you seem to be standing alone with Him, is better than being one of millions who stand against Him. And though you may think I could have just shut my mouth and kept quiet, I couldn't. That would be an omission, and it really is the same as a commission when it comes to sin.

    I am so very grateful for the lessons I learned at the company I worked for. I am equally grateful for some of the people I met, and the various scenarios I went through, dealt with, understood, and questioned. I am absolutely sure I was meant to be there for the time I was, and now I'm meant to be somewhere else. If nothing else, I'll have so much fodder for my new book! Corporate fraud, nepotism, tort crimes, felonies...they always make good reading when spun correctly. Though the book will be 100% fiction, there will be enough truth in it to allow those who have been through the employment wringer to relate -- some cave. Some do what they're told because to choose not to would mean personal sacrifice.

    I look at it another way—I don't have the sin of the world on my back. I don't have holes in my ankles and wrists where I was hung for hours on a rugged beam, naked, beaten, spit upon, and worse. I'm good.  When I start complaining about all the bad things people did to me, and how I deserve to really blast them with this or that—I'm calmed by the verses that say He will lift me up. He will cause my justice to shine like the noonday. 

    He will have His revenge - not me. Now, that doesn't mean I have to sit on my hands and do nothing. I'm not above flipping tables over and pulling out the whips!  I'll just pray really hard before I hire the best attorney in the city to do what needs to be done both to my employer and the client that forced them to terminate me.  As a whistleblower in 2026, I'm protected. If more people did what I'm about to do, we'd have less corruption in the companies that think they control us.

Photo Credit: Western CPE

AND...the Winner is....TEXAS RANGERS!!

     I have a friend at work who is a HUGE L.A. Dodgers fan. He's a real die-hard, and he even once lived in Los Angeles and was a big-time game-goer. From time to time, he'll plan a trip to L.A. to see relatives, but always around a game or two, so he can see the players in person. That is true loyalty, true fanship, and I just never really had it. I never did - but it's also never too late to start! (I won't be over the top, I promise.)

    So, I wanted to pick a team - one that meant something to me. I was a Padres fan back in the day only because a friend of mine played for them. He and I went out a few times, and he was recruited right out of college. He played ball at Oklahoma, and let me just say, if I had driven more, maybe hung out with the man a few more times, I too could have moved to San Diego in the mid-80s, and my life would have been so very different; I assure you.

    Then, sometime around 1990, and for no reason whatsoever, I decided that Chicago was the way to go.  I was married at the time, and my husband was a White Sox fan, so I wore the jersey, and I really tried to pretend I liked them, but I just couldn't get past their past. I didn't like what I knew - and the Cubs were a much cuter mascot; you have to admit that. So, the Cubs it was. That lasted a good 15 years, but again, I was never really into it. I would watch; I would say, "Yeah! Go Cubs!" but I couldn't tell you a single player, or if they were in the playoffs - nothing. When they won the whole thing in 2016 -- I knew, and I smiled. First time to win in 108 years! You gotta smile.

    Well, that was then - again, another 10 years of so, and I've not even given baseball much thought at all. I'm not saying I've given football any thought, and certainly not soccer or basketball. I just haven't. I'm writing, I'm reading, I'm thinking, I'm doing stuff, but I'm not sporting - just not doing it. What I decided to do, in order to have something to do and to be sharing the experience with a co-worker who, like me, is old, is to be a fan of a team that isn't the L.A. Dodgers because I've absolutely never liked them or the Yankees, but to pick a team that means something to me - a team closer to home, and I don't care if the team I chose starts with TEXAS -- I'm not into the pretense of the big Red River Rivalry anymore.  (I actually love the State of Texas!)

    I chose the Rangers. I didn't just throw a dart and say I'll be a Ranger fan; no, it is much deeper than that. We have the Royals in Kansas City; they're a great team. We have other close-enough teams, but the Rangers were named for the famed and fantastic law enforcers who simply take my breath away! I have and will always be a true Texas Ranger fan - the cowboy lawman more than the baseball player. I'll wear the shirt, I'll root for them, and when Scott P and I talk, I'll try to keep up with his side of the conversation by at least knowing whether or not my team has won -- or even played! (Research is my middle name)

    The Texas Rangers! I can get behind that. I love the colors: Red, white, and blue. I love the area -- central north Texas. I know the real lawmen wear Stetsons, boots, and badges, but I'll be OK in my new tee from Amazon, and I'll get a bobble-head or something to knock around when we talk. I think starting a new hobby will be good for me. It will give me something to look forward to, and something to laugh over when we're not talking about work.  I can promise you this: I probably still won't know a single player, their stats, or anything too deep, but I'll try to keep up with games, the wins, the losses, and the playoffs! 

    I know I'm coming in late this season, but the playoffs haven't started, so I'm not cheating!  I picked the Rangers for who they are named after, and that's it —and they tend to choose our Oklahoma players more often than a lot of other teams. That's something to root for!  Go Rangers! Let the games begin -- or, you know, end well.  Besides, I do have a connection to the sport; my brother played, and my cousin (2nd) was a big-time professional player: Cal McLish! (who was actually a Dodger at one point)

My Daughter the Handy-Woman!

     More than once, over the past few years, I've relied on Laura's abilities to watch a YouTube video or two on how to fix something, all the while hoping and even expecting her to actually fix something.  To date, she's batting a 1000! She's been able to turn a wrench, fix a fence, lube a machine that was making noise, fix a toilet handle, and even caulk the bathtub. She's awesome! 

    Today was absolutely no different. I took a shower when I woke up and noticed almost immediately that the hot water wasn't exactly hot. I mentioned it to her, and she had experienced the same thing the day before. We just bought this house! I wasn't happy at all that the hot water tank was going to be the first thing to go out on us after only one full month.  Believe me, I wasn't looking forward to calling the gas company to find out exactly what I needed to do. I know they have a crew that helps people relight pilot lights, but who wants to spend money if they don't need to?

    Laura, in her typical fashion, sat herself down and watched a few videos about it. She took a deep breath, went into the garage where the tank is, and she went over it a few times in her head, imagining what she would need to do. Then, she did it! She read a short article, watched a video, and when she hit a snag, she stepped back, watched another video, and fixed it. Bam!

    The water heater is an A.O. Smith 100, which is powered by gas, but the ignition is electric. There isn't a small viewing window to check whether the pilot is lit; there's a button that lights up! She followed the instructions and fixed it. We have no idea why it went out, but it did. We'll need to keep an eye out for ways and reasons this happens, but I'm absolutely certain she's gonna save us both a lot of money and a few headaches.

    I didn't want to just post it on Facebook; I wanted to blog about it. I want to brag about her openly. She's really handy, street-smart, and has a little know-how for just about everything that needs to happen to help life push its way through. She's a game-changer, a life-saver, a great friend, and an amazing daughter. I'm so very happy to have her, and I'm so very blessed to have her. Jesus knew exactly what I needed when He made her - and when He gave her to me.

Photo Credit: Me (one of my favorite photos of her)

NEW BOOK! "The Trust" Has Begun.

     The new book "The Trust" has begun. It is the 10th book in the Nick Posh series and, I believe, my 23rd book. I'd have to sit down and write them out to be sure, but I think it's my 23rd book. At least, if I do nothing else in my life, I can prove I was an author. When I was writing my first book, I was so thrilled, so scared, and ultimately so very green! I had no idea what I needed to do to start it, keep it going, finish it, publish it, print it, sell it, or anything else. To be honest, I ended up hating it and almost didn't write the 2nd book. The experience was harder than I could have imagined. If I had money, I could have worked through it much better, but life is life, and that just didn't happen.

    Now, because I've learned so much more in terms of what I can do on my own, and what I absolutely don't need from anyone else (publishers, editors, agents, etc.) I can write a book using Word, edit it using Grammarly and AI, and design the book cover on Canva before loading the interior and the exterior into a file with IngramSpark, creating my own book from scratch! This book is probably my 19th book (I think) that I've created entirely on my own. Again, I'd have to sit down and figure out the math on it, but it's around that. 

    "The Trust" is a book that will take the readers through the mill in one way, and up and down an emotional rollercoaster in another. It tells my own story as it relates to real estate hell, and it digs deeply and intentionally into the various disasters Laura and I had to endure just trying to buy a place for ourselves. The deceit, the lies, the half-truths, and the pressures put on us were tremendous. We didn't deserve any of it, but there we were, swimming in the muck with one hand raised, asking for help before going under, and the other hand holding onto my daughter as she had to face extreme choices due to the people we trusted to smooth the way for us into the path we believed we could achieve. 

    God. God and God alone achieved the end results for us. We are in the house we need to be in. We are now, finally, after more than nine months of extreme mental and financial abuse, in a house we love and will love for years to come. The journey was rocky, deeply pitted, and sometimes impossible to imagine. We were misled by those whom I had hired to guide me, and in the end, even those people appeared close to innocent compared to the owners of the house we first believed we'd own, and the previous owners of the same house - a trust. 

    What takes place in the book is NOT what took place in our lives. No one died in reality. No one purposely tried to wrangle our situation into chaos, but we felt as if we were spinning out of control more often than not. The book is an outlet for me; a therapeutic adventure. It is my way to let off the steam I allowed to build up during the agonizing time(s) I was dragged through the mud, pushed into the ropes, and made to jump through so very many unnecessary hoops - hoops that didn't need to be jumped through if the people I had trusted had just done their job to begin with.

    "The Trust" is a murder book, a look-the-other-way-before-you-get-pulled-in book. It's a hard book to write, but a good book to write at the same time. I can get rid of some of that nagging indigestion I've been holding onto due to the way we were treated. Maybe when it's over, and the book is on the shelves waiting for people to buy it, I will look back and see that my bottle of Pepcid and Mylanta don't need to be refilled. Maybe the people who did what they did will read the book and understand I could have said so much more than I did. I could have filed complaints and raised disciplinary flags for them, but I chose not to. I chose to write a fictional novel instead. (It's my way of giving the one-finger salute.) 

    I have written two chapters today. I don't have a deadline. I don't know when it will be finished. I'll write it as I feel led, and I'm sure it will be timely. I'm sure I'll stick with it, like I do with all my other books. I'm thinking by Christmas it will be out - that's not too far in the future; maybe that's a goal. At least I know this: I can relax in my new home, a home God was able to secure for me, and I can breathe better, eat better, and know that what I (we) went through will never happen to us again.

Photo Credit: Me.

FALL is Coming!!

     Too bad, John Snow. Before winter can come, we have the entire Fall season, and I don't care if I'm not supposed to capitalize a season; I do it anyway. I am such a rebel!  Fall, Fall, Fall, Fall, Fall... I'll even say Autumn, but I am a FALL person. I was born in the Fall, and I long for it all year round. I'm not a summer fan - nope, hate just about every aspect of the season. It's overrated, it's hot, it's humid, it's stifling, it stops me from exercising. It makes me sick to eat; I find myself with more and more physical ailments from mid-June to the end of September, but once the weather begins to cool and the breezes don't throttle me or make me feel like I'm stepping into an oven, I tend to truly relax.

    To celebrate this year like I never have before, I've decorated my front porch! I know, to some, that may sound really trivial, but when I say it is a landmark experience, I mean it.  For 40 years, I've waited to decorate my porch. I remember Halloween 1986. I was taking Reuben out to Trick-or-Treat at the tender age of 6 months, and so many homes were decorated. So many homes were colorful, beautiful, fanciful, and fun. I wanted that. I really, really wanted that, but it never happened.

    After 1986, I was feeding a baby, making just enough to pay the bills, not buying myself anything new, and barely scraping by. It got worse. I married, had two more kids, and found myself working and earning the money for the most part; even when the two of us were working, we couldn't afford more than maybe a cheap plastic wreath for the door, and I wasn't about to embarrass myself. I decided I wouldn't do it unless I could do it right - whatever "right" is.

    Well, 1997 rolled around and so did the divorce. (It happened at Thanksgiving, and let me just say, I'm still very grateful.) I had little money, lots of kids, more responsibility since I wasn't receiving a single penny from the ex, and my insurance didn't cover most of the things they came down with. I could see the pretty colors and nice decorations, the pillows, the crafty things at Hobby Lobby, at Michaels, and other stores, but I literally could not dole out $15-20 to make the door look good - let alone the porch if I had one.

    When I finally had a little money to spare after the kids grew up I didn't have a porch. I lived at one place in 2014, but it was a rental, and the owner asked me not to decorate; she was trying to sell the house, and she didn't want anything distracting from it.  Then I moved into an apartment. I guess I could have decorated the balcony, but only Laura and I would see it. That was 2015. We lived there for 10 years. Finally, in 2025, we moved to a house with two porches, but unfortunately, it was in an area where, if we put out a pumpkin, it would be stolen. We decorated a little inside.

    We moved to our home in El Reno in November, and I almost put out Christmas decorations, but after moving and all the things you have to pay for, I told myself no. I'll just do it in the summer when the 4th of July rolls around - that didn't happen. By the 4th of June, we were told we had to move out of that house- the house we believed was OURS and we had to not only save for the closing costs, but we also might not even have a house to live in if we couldn't fix every last issue FHA threw at us! To say it was overwhelming would be tantamount to saying the great flood was an inconvenience to most.

    NOW!!  Now, it is time. NOW, the house is ours. NOW, we can (and we did) actually buy decorations and put them outside on the porch, around the pole, over the bench, and in front of God and everyone in the neighborhood. I am so very very happy about. I knew I wouldn't go too overboard, but I also wanted to be sure to do the porch up so it looked warm, cozy, fun, and pretty. I think we achieved that. Jeannie and went to Ollie's Bargain in Yukon, and I bought most of the things you'll see. I'll have to use zip ties to hold up the leaves, but it's cute. I went to Walmart and bought the vegetables, and I already owned the little blanket.

    There you go! Oliver is dressed for the season to come. I'm not ashamed of putting up the decorations a couple of weeks early. No, I'm just really hoping that God will see them and decide to send a massive cold front. We need it. It's been over 95 degrees for over two solid months, and I'm just sick of it. Just down right done!  Bring on the frost. Bring on the sweaters. Bring on the pumpkin spice everything, and bring on the football. With OU winning their opener 51-0 over UTEP, I already feel a lot cooler than I did two days ago!! BOOMER!!

    If you have a dream - keep it. Don't let time or people tell you not to dream it. It may not be a big dream. It may not be a really expensive thing, but when you can't pay for it and you can't do it, you realize that there may be a day when you can. I found this to be true. I will let Oliver (my house) shine, and be the loved and beloved home that he was always meant to be. He's been a rental for many years, but no longer. He is in my family now, and he is beautiful.

Photo Credit: Me

Indigestion vs. Heart Issues

     It is really good to hear your PA say that you have less than a 2% chance of returning to the ER anytime soon with heart issues, but that's exactly why I went into the ER in the first place. It happens to me, and when it does, I take far too much time to react to it. Most people who feel like I felt for the past two days would have just gone in, had the tests run (bitten the financial bullet), and found out two days earlier than I did that they have less than a 2% chance of returning to the ER anytime soon with heart issues. I had acute indigestion - again.

    I say "again" because this was not the first time. Heck, it wasn't the 2nd, the 3rd, the 4th, or even the 5th time. I've been dealing with this stupid acid reflux and gastro problem on and off for years, and to be perfectly honest about it, it sucks! It really, really sucks. It sucks not only because it's painful, which it is, but it sucks because women don't always exhibit the same sort of symptoms a man presents when experiencing a cardiac event. (Look it up, I'm not lying.)

    Women die all the time from undiagnosed heart ailments that could have been diagnosed if we'd just go to the doctors and admit what we're feeling, but like me, most women think it's just another bout of indigestion, so we pop a Tums and think we'll be OK. If they're really like me, they'll rest, walk around a little, get on the vibration plate to shake things up, and take another Tums before going to the shower, and lie to themselves about it getting better. 

    Saturday morning I got up and worked about 40 minutes in the garage, moving things around and trying to get the last bits into the house so I could sort them. It was hot; I knew it was hot, but it was still early, and I felt as if I needed to get those last boxes into the house. We moved a month ago! I was determined to bring the last boxes into the house, and I did. I did, but at a cost.  The extra exercise, stress, and lifting stirred my gut a little, and then it began to churn. Over the next 48 hours, things got a little heated.

    I refused to go into the hospital yesterday even though ChatGPT was adamant that I do it. I couldn't talk my way out of it, so I told myself it was a machine, probably backed by hospitals, doctors, and Big Pharma, and I wasn't going to fall into that trap. I knew what I had was gastric and not heart-related- I wasn't dizzy, I wasn't sweating, I wasn't vomiting, and there were no other shooting or dull pains other than the center of my ribcage; like every other time, it was indigestion.

    Well, I couldn't sleep again. I moved about, turned, propped myself up, argued with my body, and finally, after another semi-restless night, I decided to ask Laura to take me to the E.R. I hate it too, because I know I'm going to end up paying for it, and it was all for nothing. This time, it was different. This time, it was at least something I could deal with, so I listened closely and let the nurses and the PA do their thing.

    I went into the SSM Health in El Reno, a great place, by the way. You never have to wait, and the staff is always tops! I get in, and three young nurses start in on me. I had to remove my bra and shirt; one hooked me up with sticky pads, while another took my blood, and the third asked me rapid-fire questions about my health. I was told to remain still, so Laura answered the questions for me from that point.

    No one likes to be pricked, but there they were, poking a needle into me, drawing blood and adding the little tube thing so they could give me meds if I needed them. The other side of me was bound with an armband to keep track of my heart rate and blood pressure, which, by the way, was fantastic! My temperature going in was 97.6, which is normal for me. Laura and I discussed it; I felt it best to let them know I have an extra click on my heart, but the PA told me he saw it when he came in to discuss my results.

    The thing is, it's very normal, even before they run the blood and tests to give a "chest pain" patient an aspirin and a tiny pill of nitroglycerin. If you've not had nitrates in the past -- ASK about them.  I made the mistake of saying OK before I found out the hard way that they literally open up veins and deprive your brain of needed oxygen. This forces you into a dizzy spell, you sweat, and yes, it makes you heave from your toes! I didn't actually vomit, but I sure as hell felt as if I would, and I sure as hell sounded as if I was. It was TERRIBLE!

    That event was over within fifteen minutes. They put a cold, wet rag over my forehead and at the base of my neck. They noted in my chart that I have a sensitivity to nitrates, and they promised not to do that again unless it was ultimately needed to save my life. I was far too weak to thank them, so Laura had to do it for me. What a brave one she was! She held the barf bag under my mouth the entire time I was wretching. Dang! She did well.

    After the whole dying without needing to die event, they let me rest and gave me Pepcid intravenously to ward off the pressure in my chest that had not subsided with the nitrate. It was their way of solidifying that the heart had nothing to do with the pressure; it was the digestive system instead. Pepcid is a strong medicine, and I am so grateful I can pick it up over the counter at any drugstore I choose. It will be my nightly friend. I don't feel bad for admitting that, either. I will listen to my doctor, and I will pop one before I eat something spicy, greasy, or heavy, and I will pop one an hour before I go to bed. It's my new routine. 

    The PA came in, and he said I was good to go -- I was 64 years old, overweight, needed to stop eating crazy foods, and to cut back on as much salt as I think I can cut back on. I'm normal, which always surprises me when someone in a professional capacity says things like that. I'm normal. Keep that in mind, friends; I am a normal person!  He said my bloodwork came back negative for anything bad and positive for all things good. He said my EKG was perfect, and that my chances of this particular event causing heart-related issues were less than 2%. He gave me a score of 1, which I assume is on the lower side.

    Let me just say, and say it out loud, that Jesus Christ is so very wonderful. Not only are our bodies marvelously and wonderfully made, but He also gave us the opportunity to go to school and learn about them. We can watch videos, read books, listen to people, and learn all we can. It's a gift. It's a gift to be able to predict, to a certain degree, that this or that is the issue. When they took my chest X-ray and told me there was nothing wrong in my chest, just pressure in the ribcage around the sternum, I was relieved. No tumors, no clouds, nothing. I think when you get older, you often stop or refuse to go to the doctor because of what they may find. I know that's what I do.

    So, it wasn't all for nothing this time. Laura drove me to Walgreens and home, which was the first time she'd driven in a very long time. (I drove us to the E.R.) She was so brave and so helpful. She was truly worried and prayed for me. I was able to face a lot of fears without much fuss. I was a polite patient even when I was swimming in misery from the nitrate—at least I was told I was nice. The whole thing took about two hours, and I'm home again. I have felt better, but I can absolutely testify that I have felt so much worse.  God is great!

    I took a couple of little Jesus rubber figurines with me. I left one in the waiting room. When we were walking out, I saw a girl playing with it. That made me happy.  He's literally everywhere.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

Mama Needs a New Dress!

 Here's the thing: I am so not a girly-girl. I was born with a fishing rod in one hand and a snail in the other. I wore out the knees of my jeans before the first week and basically had to cut them off since my mom couldn't find big enough iron-on patches to cover them; plus, it looked funny.  I didn't wear shoes (and still don't) unless I was going to church. I know there were signs in the stores suggesting I should have them, but until someone was brave enough to come up to me and ask me to leave, I went into those stores barefoot. It's just who I was.

    Today, I wear shoes when I go to the stores. I have evolved. However, the second I get home, those barefoot shoes (flat and wide) come off, and I'm sock-footed from the moment I get out of the shower in the morning until the moment I lay down to sleep at night. I prefer thicker socks even in the summer because I don't like the way thin socks feel - they're not real socks. It's another quirk I have.

    Dresses, especially girly dresses, are not my thing. I didn't like them when I was four, and I don't like them now. I say I don't like them now, but I think I may! I think I've found a really good reason to like them now that I'm old, fat, and stay home 93% of the time. I did the mental math - which includes attire, apparently. If I get up in the morning and shower, and all I have to put on is my undergarments and a light sleeveless dress (and socks), I don't have to worry about T-shirts that are a little snug or lounge pants that individually cover each leg - covering them to the point that I get hot. (It's 100 degrees outside, and even though it's 70 degrees inside, my legs still get hot.)

    The reason I can't wear shorts is twofold: one reason is I have a Chihuahua that scratches me constantly to remind me that he loves me and needs help getting onto my lap. The 2nd reason is that my faux-leather office chair would stick to my legs, and I really don't want that. However, I told you I did the mental math!! If I buy myself sundresses, I eliminate the fear of being mauled by the Chihuahua, and my legs won't stick, with the added bonus that they won't get hot -- and another added bonus, my bestie can gloat and say I've come over to her side of the world - she, unlike me, is a bona fide 100% girly-girl.

    Laura and I were in Walmart the other day, and I saw a few dresses that were not only well-priced, possibly because we're nearing the end of summer, but they were also cute. They had open collars, wider straps at the top, and came down below the knee, which is non-negotiable when it comes to my legs and the dog's gratitude for my existence. I could try to stave off the animal, but in the real world, it's never going to change, so I live with the hand I've been dealt.

    So yes, I bought two dresses today. I didn't buy those at Walmart, though. I bought them online at Amazon because I had a credit from taking back something else, and after all was said and done, I bought two really nice maxi sundresses for $23.00. That's not a bad thing - not in this day and age.  $11.50 per dress and free delivery tomorrow. If I really like them, I can see myself buying a few more and when sweats season rolls around I can give them up for onesies and long pants again -- I won't mind if my legs get warm when it's negative 10 outside even if it is 68 inside.

    There you have it - my life has changed. I am turning into one of those old women, but at least I'm cute, and I can still sit cross-legged in my chair without any fuss.  I have to sit cross-legged or else the Chihuahua wouldn't be able to sleep in my lap most of my workday - we have priorities in our house.

Photo Credit: Me.  (This is Kiba. He's Laura's service dog, but he sleeps in my lap most of the day.)

No Coffee For Me

     So, it's been about 11 months since I gave up coffee, and I have been drinking mushroom coffee in its place. I tried a few different brands and realized some of them contain a mushroom called chaga that can affect a person's kidneys. I don't need that. It's not terrible, but if you have an underlying kidney issue, it's not recommended. I don't have an actual underlying problem, but I had a kidney stone in 1990, and no, I never want to experience that again! NEVER!!

    Coffee was giving me digestive issues. It also made my head hurt after the 2nd cup. I was unable to drink more than one cup after the age of about 60, if my memory serves me correctly. It's really odd, because as a young adult, and well into my upper middle-aged years, I could drink a four-shot espresso drink and not be bothered. I stopped drinking that sort of drink when I hit 50, I think, and began drinking Caribou coffee almost exclusively. I loved the brand.

    Still, I only had one or two cups in the morning, and nothing after about 11:00 a.m. You couldn't offer it to me; I would just say no. I didn't like the way it made me feel.  About a year ago, I began researching mushroom coffee and wondered if I could do it. I did it. I did, and went cold turkey on coffee itself. I just stopped. I mean, I think I tried a cup once in a while, but after two or three weeks of drinking the mushroom coffee, one or two cups in the morning, I just stopped drinking coffee.

    The thing is, I owned a really expensive and nice espresso machine, too. I had a lovely Keurig, and I had a stash of Caribou coffee that I decided to give away after about four or five months of not drinking coffee. I sold the espresso machine, of course, but I put the Keurig away just in case I decided to start brewing in the future. I couldn't justify paying $100 for a machine and either giving it away or selling it for $50 just to get rid of it. I kept it. Then I moved. Then I moved again, and last week decided to try coffee once more, but I couldn't find where I stashed the Keurig.

    I purchased a really cheap drip coffee machine online. The single-cup type. I think I paid $15 for it. I wanted to see if I still hated it -- which is crazy. I mean, I could have just driven to McDonald's and bought a cup of coffee, but I wanted to try organic coffee after hearing about how mass-produced coffee beans have mold and mycotoxins on them. Gross.  I wanted to try Maud's decaf coffee, and I shouldn't have. It cost me another $15, and I hate it. I was right; I hated it. Now, I will be honest, I hated the taste because it tasted metallic or sharp. I didn't hate it because it was Maud's.

    I had a couple of K-Cups left over from back when I was drinking coffee, so I tried one of them; it was Caribou, but it wasn't decaf; it was fully loaded. I hated it. It was too strong, too bold, too heavy, too robust, too everything, and within one minute of me sipping maybe three sips, I had to pour it out just like I had done with the Maud's decaf.  Nope, coffee is not for me. I have decided to stick with mushroom coffee, which is smoother, lighter, tastes better, and doesn't make my head hurt. Within one minute of sipping that stuff, I had a throbbing in my head - could be because I hadn't had coffee in a year; I get it, but no. I don't need it.

    Anyone who wants to try to get themselves off coffee, or maybe off caffeine, should know that mushroom coffee still has 48-50 mg of caffeine in it. It's not 100% decaffeinated. You can't get that with anything related to coffee or even green tea! A lot of people think that green tea is caffeine-free, but it's not. It has 20-25mg of caffeeine in it. Check your brand on Google to find out. I use Yege mushroom coffee, and I love it. There is a lighter blend and a darker blend. Both are nice. I switch them up; whichever is on sale, I buy.

    There you have it - my decision is made. I don't need coffee anymore, and I don't want it. I won't regret my decision, but I don't hold anyone else in contempt for loving it. It's a good thing for a lot of folks. Coffee is a strong antioxidant and has a lot of health benefits. I was really turned off by the whole mold and mycotoxin issue—turns out there's not a lot of it, but there is still enough to make me shake my head and say no thank you. (This coming from a woman drinking fungi)

Photo Credit: Pinterest