Wyatt is Shoeless!

  Wyatt is no longer being forced to wear heavy metal shoes on his hooves. His new farrier (interestingly named Logan) came out today and removed his steel shoes and trimmed his hooves up very nicely. So, nicely, in fact, I teased Wyatt (formerly Awesome Logan) that I might treat him to a little more pampering and get him some pretty blue glitter hoof paint. You know, just because I can, and he's literally never been hoof painted in his life, I can all but guarantee that! This is the first time he's ever been a pet.

    My baby boy is going to be so damned spoiled. He'll think he's already died and gone to Heaven; he has no idea just how pampered he's going to be, but I'm already making plans. He saw his farrier today, who said he was well balanced. Wyatt has more toe than heel, and after his trim, he was fantabulous! He didn't have anything like an abscess, rot, or thrush. He didn't have any hoof issues at all, and to say he stood still like a pro would be just about accurate. Then again, he was a racehorse. He's had a few sets of shoes over the past several years, but NO MORE! He is 100% shoeless, and we are both thrilled about it.

    Right after he was trimmed and filed, he took a really long and deserved roll in the grass, and shook himself off. He ate his apple, his carrot, and his hay and did what just about every horse does after that sort of thing - he farted very loudly, and we all laughed because it was so normal and he probably hasn't been normal in a very long time.

    I was going to make a little cross out of his shoes, after maybe buying a couple more, but I decided instead to buy a shadow box and place them in it. I'm also adding his auction sticker and a photo of him from the auction sale barn. That was the last day he ever had to worry about being fed, being cared for, having shelter, or being given water when he needed it. He won't sit on a trailer for days and nights on end, traveling from place to place, only to be run and then beaten for not winning. He will never have to worry about a thing. Never again.

    I may not have told you, but I'm not (or wasn't) a Thoroughbred fan. I would not have bid on him if I knew he was one. I'm not anti-Thoroughbred, I just don't like the way they behave most of the time, but God knew. God knew this one was a lot different. I love the verse in the Bible (I love them all, but this one in particular) Jeremiah 29:11. God says, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future".   God knew. He knew when Wyatt would end up at Bowie. He knew what number he was, and when I'd be watching. God knew.

    He not only had a plan for me but also for Wyatt. "Stay here, be still," He told the horse, "There's someone out there watching now, she'll bid, and she'll win the bid. You're going home with her - and you never have to think about being harmed, hurt, or ignored again."   When I think about all the things that had to happen for that one horse to end up at the one barn sale, on that one day, when not only would I be watching, but I had decided to buy a good riding horse. If the horse had been walked in, I would not have bid. There was a 90-pound boy on his back - with four stocked up legs, he couldn't have taken more. God knew.

    I was sitting at my desk watching. He came out, and I liked him immediately. I thought he was a big Quarter horse, to be honest, and I watched. I bid, and when someone tried to outbid me, I hit the bid button again - and then again. In my heart, I told myself that horse is mine!  He was!  He is. There's another verse I like that goes along with Jeremiah 29:11, you know it. Psalms 46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God."  Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to do nothing - just waiting and waiting and waiting is difficult. But when the time comes, God puts the right horse in the right barn at the right time, and drew my eyes to him. I love God.

Photo Credit: Me (Wyatt with Logan the farrier) 

Taking Jesus to Walmart!

     It's true, I take Jesus with me wherever I go. I take him spiritually, of course, but I have been taking him physically as well. Let me explain. You can, if you want to, buy 30 little tiny rubber Jesus characters from Amazon. They have different colored sashes that read "Jesus Loves You". They're adorable, and people like them. People like to see them, and they like finding them in odd places, too. They really like it when they are given a little Jesus out of nowhere! I know this because I hand off little Jesus from time to time if someone makes eye contact with me.

    I'm not sure where I first saw the little "toys" or figurines. It may have been a YouTube involving a few of the cast members from The Chosen, if I'm honest. I know one of the cast members was placing tiny little trees in other cast members' trailers, but I think they were also carrying or exchanging little Jesus figurines with people. I decided to do it, and it has been so much fun; and to be honest, it's a good way to witness.

    Today, I took several and gave several of them to Laura when we went to Walmart to get our weekly groceries. I hadn't even gotten into the building when I spotted a great spot for one. It was in the cash dispenser of a game outside the store; perfect fit. Another stood on top of a box of chocolate chip cookies, and another still was standing between the apples and oranges on a little ledge. You know someone is going to find him there and take him home.  Then, just because I could, (and because a man made eye-contact with me) I handed my last little Jesus to a man who looked like he could use one! He smiled. He didn't say anything, but he took it, and he smiled.

    Laura thought the process was interesting, but she couldn't quite get into it. I think after she sees it a few more times, she'll feel free to let her inner Jesus go! She, too, will scatter love at random, praying for those who find Him and asking angels to guide the right people to where they are. They are just such a little and powerful tool -- one anyone can share. I'll tell you a little story, and you'll get what I'm saying. When you decide to share Jesus, He finds the right circumstances for you to spread His love. You just need to be open to the ministry.

    There was a man, a shorter man, maybe 28-30 years old. He was special, different, and you could see it before he even turned around. He was dressed in a way that spoke volumes about who he was and who he followed. The man was actually a boy; maybe 10 years old in his mind, no older. He had an air about him that simply said he was a follower of Lucifer; probably because Lucifer likes to confuse the simple-minded, stealing them away from the Truth and the Light. Not today, Satan, not today!

    We were leaving the store, and I saw the man again. He was sitting on a checkout stand, waiting for his brother, he told me. I asked him if he needed help, and he asked me why I was talking to him. He could tell. I knew he could tell; he was nervous, and there was something inside of him that wanted to be nervous, but he fought it. I smiled. I handed him a little Jesus, and he took it. He immediately calmed down and looked at me again, this time with a smile and wider eyes. "Do you give everyone these dolls?" he asked. "No", I told him, "you're special."

    He wanted to know why he was special. I told him. I told him I pass people, but when Jesus tells me to stop, I do. He smiled again. I asked him why he would be special, and he said sometimes he goes to church, or at least he used to. I asked him if he could do it again, and he said yes. I told him if he needed to just talk to Jesus, he didn't need to go to church; he could just talk to Him. He smiled and said he would because he liked talking to Jesus, or he did. That was it. I left him, and I prayed for him. I asked God to bring an angel to protect him. If he's thinking about being closer to God, he'll need an angel to keep the demons away. Satan just may lose another one!

Photo Credit: Me.  Jesus just chillin' with Mervin.

What's in a Name?

      We all do it. We all tell people our name, and when we do, we are either proud of who we are, or maybe we're not. Maybe something has happened in the past, whether recent or not, that makes us a little nervous about sharing such information. It's a little like that in the horse world, too.  I could throw a few names at you, and you'd say, "Oh, that was an amazing horse!"  I like to think that most horses are amazing, but I'll concede to the facts at hand; there are some horses that, without question, are more memorable than others.

    Among the list of horses that are both outstanding in their respective field of racing, and who were gallant and stunning to look at, would be names such as Secretariat, Man O'War, Mr. Prospect, and Raise a Native, to name a few. I could go on, of course; the list seems endless, and those are only the Thoroughbreds!  Why am I mentioning Thoroughbreds, you may ask? I'll tell you—but I think you may already know if you've been keeping up with my blog over the past few days.

    I rescued a horse from the Bowie Livestock Auction this past weekend. If I had known he was a Thoroughbred, I may not have bothered to bid on him - seriously, I'm not just saying that. I'm more of a Quarter Horse fan. I don't mind TBs, but in the past they've been flighty, strong-headed, too tall, or something. I know from experience, having owned a few, that they aren't always easy keepers. They have higher metabolisms, and they tend to want to...you know, run! They are quite the athletes, and generally speaking, I usually pass.

    Well, apparently, God had other plans for me and for my new Thoroughbred! That's right. I rescued Wyatt, or Hip #479, and got him home. (Thank you, Dawn Foil) The second I took a good look at him, I knew. I didn't even have to pull up his lip. I knew. If anyone was a Thoroughbred, this guy was. He was tall, a little gangly at the moment, but he had an enormously long head, thinner or narrower in the chest, and legs that went on for miles. If I had to guess, because we haven't measured yet, I'd say 16.2H. What was I thinking? 😀

    This guy, Wyatt, had the look of a prince from first glance. He's regal, and he's handsome. He's injured, but has that warrior look about him. He's not going to let life dictate his fate; it's all over him. He's not an alpha in the sense we usually use the term, but he is strong-hearted, a deep thinker, and cautious. He's curious, naturally, and that's a good sign too. When my daughter had the opportunity, she lifted his lip while I videoed it so we could see for ourselves exactly who he is. The tattoo is there, and it tells his entire story right up to the time he stopped racing.

    S19205 -- According to the Jockey Club, his name is Awesome Logan. He was born on April 27, 2015, and was a racehorse in New Mexico from the time he was almost three until the time he was almost five. He ran 27 times and won first place only once. He took second place four times, and he placed four times as well. Then, he either lost interest or faster horses entered his races. He was retired on 1/14/2020, and Covid could have had something to do with it as well. Either way, he never officially raced again.

    I say officially, because the boy is still wearing racing shoes. Those will come off soon enough. He will never have to race again - but he can run if he wants to.  According to the man who dropped him off at the sale barn (who picked him up in El Paso a week before he sold him to Bowie), he was basically run into the ground by folks who didn't keep the horse's best interest at heart. Sadly, and I can say this, he was abused.  There's clear evidence that someone dragged him around by a metal chain. His upper gum is severed. It's healed, but it's obvious the horse was not their pet. We'll leave it at that.

    When I read his history on Equibase, and then looked him up on All Breed Pedigree, I found so much more to brag about than I ever expected. My horse, my beautiful, sweet, kind-hearted, clear-eyed, sweet boy, is out of good stock, and for whatever reason, the faster racing gene just took a beat. Remember those wildly famous horses I mentioned earlier? He has every last one of them in his bloodline -- he has Man O'War in his lineage four times (different babies of Man O'War mated with different horses to make that happen.) He has such a great history running through him - and now he has a great future ahead.

    He's been bitten, kicked in the mouth, harmed, hurt, beaten, and trashed. He was forced to take drugs, no doubt, something to make him do a little better for his trainers, but not anymore. Wyatt (as I call him) will be spoiled, pampered, loved, and cuddled. He'll eat a lot of hay, grain, oats, and apples. He needs to gain 200 pounds, and I need to lose 40, so we can ride together. It'll happen. I'm off to buy him a new halter and lead. I could end up dolling him up a bit, but I think I'll wait to let him settle in.  I've already called the dentist and the farrier. When I say he'll be taken care of, I mean it.

Photo Credit: Me. Laura is holding his lip.

The Kill Buyer in the Front Row.

     Have you ever thought about how much money changes hands in the horse meat market? Maybe you never had a reason to find out. Maybe you never wanted to think about it. It's real, but if it's not affecting you, maybe you don't let your mind dwell on it too much. I was that way. I still don't want to get into the gritty details of it, but owning horses for as long as we have, you don't have much choice. You have to think about it. It's one of those horrible things that exists in our world; some say it's necessary, but it could be reformed.

    There's an old saying that goes something like this: "You get what you pay for."  I heard it all the time when I went to auctions to buy my horses. Friends, enemies, friemies, and a few others in my circle would go out and buy their pure-bred horses, pay gynormous amounts of money so they could brag to all of us about how much they spent; all the while making fun of us (me) for picking up a good gelding for $800 at a local auction.  I can honestly tell you that the best two horses I've ever owned were either free or really cheap.

    Bedtime Hero, a registered American Quarter Horse, was 25 years old when he became mine. He was given to me. Norman, a registered American Mustang, cost me $25! That's right, nothing really -maybe it went for administrative costs. Neither horse was going to win the Kentucky Derby, but I didn't need them to.  I have loved and cherished many horses that I either bought cheaply or accepted when they were thrown away by someone who had no more use for them. I can tell you this, I wasn't the one rescuing them usually - they rescued me. 

    When I decided to buy a horse from the Bowie Auction yesterday, it didn't even occur to me that the men sitting in the front row were kill buyers. I didn't know. I found out later today when two separate people made it clear to me that if I hadn't continued pushing that bid button when it came time to bid on Wyatt, he would have been on a truck now, heading south to Mexico -- not to be loved; to be eaten. Horse meat is used to feed many zoo animals and domesticated animals around the world. It's eaten by humans too, but most of what comes out of Mexico, I'm told, is redistributed to zoos and sanctuaries for large cats.

    I was at my desk when I saw Wyatt. He wasn't named, of course; he was just another bay gelding being run through the gates at Bowie Auction. He was Hip #479; that was how he was known. The auctioneer didn't say much about him; they rarely do when the grade horses come through. He was being ridden, so he had a chance to at least be seen by someone like me who wanted a friend or companion. The buyers in the front row were more concerned with his weight and the meat on his bones; they didn't give a damn that he was stocked up on all four of his legs.

    Jesus must have kept Wyatt's legs from my view as well, because if I'm honest, I wouldn't have bid on him if I thought he was injured. I didn't know until today when the lady who is hauling to me told me. She also told me who I had outbid. I outbid the kill buyer by $50. Wyatt is coming home, to my house, to live his best life instead of being slaughtered, and $50 is all that separated that destiny from becoming a reality. Angels do more than protect us - they blind us when we need to be blinded, and they shield us from knowing too much if our decisions could be disastrous for someone - or something else.

    Kill buyers have a job to do. It's unfortunate, but it's true. They don't take the old lame broken horses you think they take. The average age of a kill pen horse is seven years old. They need healthy meat; they don't need bones and stretched skin. They get XX per pound - they offer less for a horse than what they'll be paid by the slaughterhouses. It makes sense, and it's a multi-million dollar industry, and it's worldwide. We don't slaughter horses in America. They travel first - to Mexico or Canada -- and once on that truck, it doesn't matter who wants them off, they don't come off until they unload to be killed. (It's the law)

    Thank God, and I mean that, thank MY GOD for blinding me when Wyatt came out of that gate. I only saw his face. I saw him walk of course, but the screen wasn't too clear, it was a bit blurry, it was a bit dark. I couldn't see the detail. I watched his head to see if he bobbed - showing pain, he didn't. I watched his head turn as the boy riding him steered him gently. I watched him cross his legs to turn, perfectly. He was a gentleman, and I knew I wanted him. Had I known the man in the front row was a kill buyer, I would have stopped at nothing to get him -- but God was gracious there, too; he was only $1000. 

    The only reason the kill buyer went $950 was that Hip #479 is about 15.2H and 1100 pounds. They pay about $.70 per pound and are given about $.90 per pound - it wasn't worth it for the man. He was right there in front, and he saw the horse's legs. He knew they were swollen. I didn't know. He stopped bidding at $950 because of it, and I'm sure he drew an easy breath when he realized he was off the hook. He would only have broken even at best with Hip #479, whereas I have a goldmine waiting to come to me!

    The sweet woman who is bringing Wyatt to me is keeping him at her house tonight so he can rest. She's giving him medical care and treatment without me even asking. She's hosing him down right now, and keeping him comfortable. He must have been in a trailer for days to get as bad as he was. I know he came out of El Paso, Texas, about 600 or so miles to Bowie to be auctioned off - he was likely auctioned a few times before yesterday to be in such bad shape. You can't let a horse stand in one spot for days on end and not expect him to become thick in the legs or worse. 

    God bless Dawn, and God bless anyone who has a heart for an animal in need. Like I said, I know there are reasons for kill buyers and slaughterhouses - big cats have to eat, too. But this time, I couldn't save them all. The one I did save will be mine and will help me get a fresh start, too. I had given up having horses due to an injury that left me overweight and stiff. I'm changing -- God's changing me, He's changing Wyatt, and He's doing it all at the same time, in the same place.  It goes without saying that you get what you pay for — and I paid for Wyatt! He is MINE!

Photo Credit: Dawn Foil - Bowie, Texas (Hauler extraordinare!)  If you need a horse hauled, give her a call (940) 393-3580.  

Wyatt!

      My best friend just told me I need to stop watching horse auctions. She's not wrong. However, this time, I did it on purpose. My daughter has an Arabian mare that is simply too lonely and really needs a friend. We thought about it, and we could either (a) buy her a little friend she could talk to that we couldn't ride, or (b) buy her a little friend that we could ride. The options are limited in some ways. Then again, we could buy a big horse that we couldn't ride or could ride -- and that's the option we chose.

    Bowie Auction is smack dab in the middle of North Texas, about 145 miles south of where we live. I don't think Hwy 81 goes through to Bowie, but the hauler will no doubt take I-35 straight up, hit 40, and hang a Louie to 81. We're about a mile off the junction. Haulers charge anywhere from $2-3.00 a loaded mile, so for about $350, I'll get the horse hauled. I'll tell you what he cost me a little later on.

    I said "he", and from the title of the blog, you already know I named him Wyatt, but it does make you wonder (it makes me wonder) what he was called before I bought him. I'll be really honest with you; I struggled between Waylon and Wyatt, with Wyatt winning out in the end only because of what the name means. Waylon refers to a piece or patch of land on the wayside, and Wyatt means hardy warrior -- yeah, I'm going with Wyatt. It's a no-brainer for me.

    We chose Bowie because we've had some success buying horses from them in the past. We already know that the auctioneers aren't always truthful. They like to make up stories and throw in little tidbits about an animal just to make the sale, but after the 10th hour or so, they get a bit more relaxed. The auction started at 9:00 a.m. this morning, and I think I bought Wyatt about 11 hours later -- close to it.  You'd be gobsmacked at what some of those horses go for, and they're not even as pretty as my horse is! (Some are. Some will knock your socks off, they're so amazing!)

    After a long, long while, and several hundred horses later, Wyatt came out as a barn ride, meaning his owners weren't there to promote him. They leave their credentials with the office, allow the barn to sell their animal, take a cut of the sale price, and wait for their check to come in the mail next week. That's the only way I'll buy a horse. I won't buy one on the "green light" because, nearly every time, the same horse, if sold on the green light vs. the red light, will go for at least $ 1,000 more. 

    You can watch the animal move. You only have about a minute with these "lesser" horses. They come out, they do their thing (being ridden if they ride out), and the auctioneer tries his best to get as much as he can for it. The barn gets a better cut if he can get the buyers to pay more. He'll encourage the barn rider to move the horse in certain ways. He'll have them canter if they can, spin around, or do whatever they think the horse can do to get that last dollar out of it. 

    Laura knows me. I wanted a good, solid horse, older if possible, and one that has more "whoa than go".  I didn't care about color, but I did want a gelding.  When I hear that a horse likes to take things slowly, I'm interested. It means I won't be coming out from under him when he decides to take off, or gets spooked by a stupid plastic bag. I need (and want) a horse that really doesn't need to race or compete with another horse. If he likes to smell the roses, I'll plant him a garden full of them. I want to walk, trot, canter, and just hang out -- but like I said, he was mostly purchased to give Laura's mare someone to "talk" to. She's getting a little depressed without a friend.

    Buying Wyatt took care of a couple of boxes that needed to be checked. I wanted a horse last year, and bought one, but she was pregnant and refused to stay in the fence. When we sold her, Laura's horse became very sad; almost to the point of starving herself from depression. Wyatt will not only boost Lady's spirits, but he'll also boost mine as well.  I haven't met him yet, but I'll meet him soon enough. Laura has repositioned the pen out back to handle two horses, and she's stocked up on grain and hay for the pair as well.

    All in all, Wyatt's fee was an even $1000.00 (only a few of us bid on him). There's a 3.5% card fee for using a card over the phone, and the hauling, as I said before, will be about $350. Not a bad price when you do a little research for what 16H dark bay Quarter horses are going for these days. Yes, I said Quarter horse, but he's considered grade, because he doesn't have his pedigree all nice and tidy, written out on registration papers. You can't ride papers. I don't need a fancy-schmancy pony. I like mine a little mysterious anyway - it gives me a reason to dream up a backstory he may fit.

    Wyatt is about 16H tall, about 1100 pounds now, and will fill out a bit after he's been here a few months. He's between 7 and 10 years old, and as far as we could tell from the video and the time we watched him live, he's a good sound horse. He's broke to ride, and that's the most important part for me. He will be used - he will be loved. He will be appreciated. We prayed about it before we made the decision, and to God be the glory! I'll show him off when he arrives. I'm sure I'll keep you up to date, whether you want to be or not.

Photo Credit: Snippit from Bowie Auction online.

    

    

Chest of Drawers.

     I rarely buy anything new for myself, but I did do so when I purchased my car back in 2018. It is a 2018 model, and I've kept it in good shape. It has just over 50,000 miles, so in 7 years, which means I drive about 7000 miles a year. This isn't true. My son borrowed the car for five or six months and put about 1/2 of those miles on it.  I laugh because I know for a fact that my own parents would never have done that for me; they'd either give me the car or help me buy another one.  But this blog isn't about my car -- it's about my "new" chest of drawers.

    I say "new" because it is new to me, but it is not new. The back of it says it was made in China, but that must be when they were making good pieces of furniture, because this thing clocks in at over 200 pounds. It's a rock-solid piece of office furniture that was once a part of a three-piece set. I think it was a credenza. I did see the middle part, but the other end was purchased by someone else.  I paid $40, and then my good friend Steve (owner of S&S Bargains in El Reno) delivered it for an additional $10. He's such a nice guy, and his wife, Shelley, is amazing!! I love their shop. 

    Today, I went to S&S to get a few LPs. I go through their collections whenever I drop in, pick up one or two, and then look around for something I may need. I found a really cool-looking homemade Teddy bear that I'll pick up next time. They always have them, and they are made locally. I will always shop locally when I can. If I can give back, I will. I am not a picky person, so my home may look eclectic to some, but I love it.  This piece will serve us well. It is no longer an attorney's credenza; it is an overflow dresser for all of my winter clothes. 

    Tomorrow is March. In just three weeks, it will be Spring, and with today's temperatures topping out at 82 degrees, I need a winter and a summer chest of drawers to keep things separated. We have, on average, 4 to 6 days of really cold weather in Oklahoma, and the rest is a battle of wits between the Arctic air rolling over the Rockies and the scorching heat pushing north from Mexico. Any day, any given day, one or the other will win - and we're often caught off guard. You can't fully put away your "off-season" clothes, but I can separate them.

    I was going to put the chest of drawers in my bedroom, but I can't do that until I move the bed and the other dresser out of the way — it's in the living room, and it may end up staying right there. I'm OK walking the length of the hall to grab this or that T-shirt. I think I'm supposed to spell it Tee-shirt, or tee-shirt, but I can't be bothered. I'll stick with the lakes and the rivers I've been swimming in for years - it's a T-shirt. I've decided.

    Yes, the chest of drawers has a story, and Steve knew enough of it to let me know that it once belonged to an attorney in the area who was a criminal attorney. Oh, I like that. That means the ghosts of all those old files will start talking to my shirts and pants, keeping them busy and filling their fibers with all sorts of lore. I can't wait to hear what they say. Maybe you don't listen to or talk to your clothes, but I do. Why not? It's better than talking to the ghosts of old, dead files of past criminals, right? This is a good piece. I'm glad I found it.

    Oh, you caught that? You saw where I said I went into S&S to look at vinyl? Well, yes, I did. Today I picked up a few good ones. I bought four LPs:  Herman's Hermits, Cat Stevens, Waylon and Willie, and Bob Seger! Oh, yes, the "Live Bullet" concert album. I paid $6 for three of them and $8 for Seger.  I've been cranking up the little Victrola and just lovin' what's coming out of it.  I don't go crazy when I go LP shopping, but I could. S&S has 4 or 5 big bins full -- and I don't buy them all at once; I am a sparing sort of LP shopper.  There will always be something I love - or fall in love with.

    Did you know that Poco put out 19 studio albums? I think all of them are at S&S, and I will have to get one or two when I go back. I think I know 2 of their songs. I need to hear more. OK, back to the chest of drawers. There was an actual chest of drawers there, and it was from the mid-20th century, maybe 1940-1950. I wanted it, but someone had purchased it only five minutes before I arrived. Wow...talk about bad luck, but it's OK. I bet this one has better stories anyway.  I bet it does.

Photo Credit: Me

Casual Friday.

     I'm not gonna lie, I love (and I mean, LOVE) my job. Today, on another Casual Friday, was just another example of why I love my job so very much. I clock in at 7:25 a.m. because I'm allowed to do so five minutes early. If I were allowed to be ten or fifteen minutes early, I'd do it. I don't get paid by the hour because the pay structure is structured so that I'm basically paid a commission plus a bonus. It's not about putting in extra minutes to earn a few more dollars, but I remember when it was like that at other jobs, and I used the system to earn about $25 a month more than I would have if I clocked in on time.

    See, for me, being early is being on time. Being on time, is being late, and if you're going to be late, just don't show up. Call in sick or something. If you can't make it to your desk, ready to go five minutes before your shift starts, you don't get to call yourself dedicated. You're average at best, and don't get me started, because I'm far too opinionated on the matter, and I'll alienate myself from most of my audience if I keep on about it.

    Fridays really aren't that special for my position. I don't have to wait until a good day at the end of the week, like Friday, to dress casually for work. I remember times when everyone looked forward to Fridays because it meant they could relax a little, dress down a bit, and wear a polo or nice soft shirt as long as it wasn't a T-shirt. They could wear jeans as long as they were dark, didn't have holes, and were loose-fitting. I haven't worn jeans in over three years. I wouldn't know how they felt, to be honest. I'm more of a sweats-and-hoodie type these days. 

    Of course, when it's warmer, I'd like to say I wear shorts, but the truth is my dog would scratch my bare legs when she jumped up onto my lap throughout the day. I wear lightweight sweats and/or joggers, as I think they're called. They look a lot like solid-colored pajamas, if I'm honest. Casual? I'd have to step up a few notches before I reached that level. I'm freaking comfortable, is what I am. I sit cross-legged in my huge soft office chair that both reclines and massages my lower back. If someone upsets me during the day, I lean back, turn the back of the chair on, and let them rant! Please, please rant; this feels really good.

    I work about 60-80 claims every day, in one capacity or another. Sometimes I'm doing what's called a "first touch": I go through the file, summarize it, build it into a subrogation package, and send it to someone on the other side. I could send it (by email) to a damager or to their insurance carrier. The insurance adjuster and I speak briefly, assure one another that we'll work the claim, and I move to the next claim. I may call an adverse adjuster to give them my take on the claim, or I may call them to ask them their take. I often send out emails for updates rather than calling, and sometimes I do a deep dive into the internet to find insurance carrier information if the excavator who broke my client's equipment has decided to avoid paying the claim themselves.

    We recover. We are not a collection agency. We attempt to recover the funds for the damage before the claim is sent to a legal team. For this, I am paid well, and I don't mind saying so online. I have made (and continue to make) more money over the past two years doing this job than I have when I worked for others or for myself. I never get bored. I never get tired. I never get truly upset because I have little "mantra" cards posted around my desk and on the corkboards above it that read things like "It's not your money!", "Be nice...listen."  My favorite one is "God has this, let Him have this." I don't need to worry about it.

    If I can't recover the money myself, I have to send it over to the legal team as mentioned. They let me know when —or if —they can recover it—and I laugh (usually) because had the damager dealt with me, he/she would have been able to negotiate a bit of a deal—not so much when the lawyers get involved. I tried to warn them! Of course, I am rather casual when I'm talking to people as well. I have had to push my mic up so they can't hear me sometimes - I have a squeeze ball to assist my mouth at times too. I literally have to put my palm over my mouth at times because what comes out of it may or may not sound as professional as perhaps my employers would prefer. 

    My boss laughs when he goes back to listen to some of my calls. He tells me I have the sweet Southern charm of a Texas rattler at times, but other times I'm dripping with sweetness that he knows is sarcasm, but it comes across (over the phone) as me being genuinely caring -- I'm not really all that caring most of the time. I can be. I will let some of the "sob" stories get to me, but most of the time (50x a day) I hear someone try to get out of having to pay the claim by blaming the locator (811 location tech) saying the lines were mismarked, they weren't there at all, or my favorite, they were "off by a mile". Listen, buddy (excavator), if you're digging a mile from the marks you called in to be located -- you're the problem.

    Back in the day, Casual Friday was something I looked forward to. I sluggishly forced myself to work Monday through Thursday hiding myself in the monstrosity that was the job, keeping my head down, nose to the grind, just hoping for a break and praying I could make it until Friday where at least I could wear somewhat comfortable relaxing clothes at work - hoping my jeans were as fashionable and my blouses were as cute as all the others ladies who tried to out do one another. I knew I couldn't win, but I tried to fit in to the point that I wouldn't hate myself. Not anymore.

    We have Teams meetings (video) with one another, and I'm not kidding, my teammates, colleagues, whatever you want to call them, are wearing jammies on top and on bottom. I will at least wear a T-shirt on top - not going to stand up and let them see the Winnie-the-Pooh pants that have seen better days. I had to laugh a few times and shake my head. When it happens, someone always says, "Wait, Casual Friday, right?" And we laugh. We all laugh. We're all pulling down more than we've ever pulled before, wearing the most relaxing attire on the planet, taking breaks when we want to, not when someone tells us to, and get this -- we find ourselves clocking in early and clocking out late because we're still talking to each other and comparing notes from the day.

    I think, no wait...I KNOW...I am where I want to be.

Photo Credit: Cartoon Stock (Nickel-artist)

Book 22: Shadow.

     "Shadow", like so many of the Nick Posh books, in fact, most of the Nick Posh books, was created in my head a long time ago. I've been hanging out with Posh almost as long as I've been hanging out with Craig Allen MacKenzie, and let me tell you -- sometimes I can't get a word in edgewise inside my brain when those two start talking.  Nick Posh has been a character in my heart and mind since around the turn of the 21st Century. I can't tell you exactly when I started thinking about him, but it was before 2005; that much I know.

    I know he's been around before 2005 because I had to put my first Nick Posh novel off so I could focus on my dissertation, which I was supposed to have finished in 2005 for defending, but I ended up writing it at the beginning of 2006.  Then, because of work, kids, life, and the dog I had to take around the world a few times, there just wasn't time to write detective books. I had Faith (the dog), and people expected me to write books about her. OK, so I wrote books about her, and that pushed Nick Posh back pretty far in terms of being allowed outside my head to play.

    I'm thinking now it's only been 5 years since he's been exercised, maybe not even that long. I wrote the first Posh novel in 2023, I think -- but I wrote most of it a year before. Well, he's out now! He's out, and he's really hard to stuff back into my head once he started talking to me, telling me stories about his life, his family, his work, and so much more. It's hard for me to keep up with the man -- except I should be honest, and say I head-wrote just about every book years ago. It's just that now I'm actually putting my fingers to the keys and getting the words out of my skull and onto the computer -- then of course, into print.

    There were two books, "Cumberland" and "Stratford", which were not previously written or thought out. Those two books are freshly created and just sort of thrown out into the ether to get them out so that the older books, the original books, can have more free space to breathe. If you're not inside my head, you may not understand all that - but it makes sense to my brain. Nick Posh, I guess you could say, is the author of his stories, and I just report them as I'm being led. He's the one who has to live his life, but I will say even he didn't realize he was going to end up fathering twins at 44 -- that was all me. I did that. He's still shaking his head.

    I can tell you this: There will be no more little Posh kids being born anytime soon. His quiver will have to be full with the three sons that he has. He'll learn a great deal about being a father as the books continue, and he'll raise his boys to love God, our country, and to keep both the Commandments and the laws of man. Patriotism oozes out of this man, and for that I am thankful. He's an easy one to write. He's honest, upfront, intelligent, and clever. He thinks, and he's one of the most resourceful men I've ever conjured. 

    I can't tell you too much about "Shadow" yet, but I can tell you it takes place in Oklahoma (mostly) and spans from September 1934 to about April 1935. My mother makes an appearance in the book; she was born in April 1935, and her family, though living in Thrift, Texas, will be mentioned in "Shadow".  Nick faces a grim reality in the book, having to deal with his personal morals, ethics, laws, and more - he'll make decisions that may not be popular, and they may not be wise as they relate to his job and livlihood, but he's one of those die-hard ethical men who we only read about. He'll stand alone if he has to; but he won't compromise to please others. He answers to a higher power than himself.

    I'll start writing a week from this Saturday, so around March 7th, and it should be written in about 5 weeks, and then tweaked and corrected. It may be ready by April 22, but if not, it can be a little later. I won't fuss.  It'll be a fun book to write, as I'll do a great deal of research on the law and how it was handled in the good old days -- Alfalfa Bill Murray returns to "Shadow"; it was his last year in office.  I love that man, warts and all.

    

Photo Credit: Me.

CHEEKY! (Not to Be)

     For the first time ever, I've decided to scrap a book that I have written. I have scrapped them before I wrote them - deciding not to write them, but this is the first time I've written a book and then said no. I didn't like it. I did the whole AI thing, telling the AI what to write, and I sat back and let it go. The results were miserable. They were so bad - and so unwanted, I couldn't put my name on it. It was just not meant to be. Gone!

    That's not to say I won't get around to writing the book myself, but I couldn't allow the AI to do it; not my style. I did try. I promise, I did. I laid down the ground rules, the instructions for the skeleton, the framework, the juicy parts. I even told it what should happen in each chapter, but when it was done, there were just too many mistakes. I'd have spent weeks just correcting them, even before getting to the grit of it. When I write, I use AI for suggestions, but this time I wanted to see if it could write the entire book - it failed.

    When I say it failed, I don't mean that the AI (Type AI to be exact) didn't write the book, or that it couldn't write the book. It could, and it did. However, the book it wrote sucked so badly, in my opinion, that I would never have admitted I had much to do with it.  It wasn't just what the thing wrote, it was the layout, the wording, and the way that it disregarded what I wanted and took off on its own. I don't know if it was thinking (can an AI think?) that I would be happy with their choices rather than my own, but I was not.

    When the book was finished, I hadn't even read one page before noticing that the word wrap wasn't engaged, and a word like "word" would have the "w" at the end of the line, and the "ord" would be on the next line. I tried to fix it, and it got worse. Maybe it's me, maybe I don't know how to fix Word documents as well as I thought I could, but it was a mess. I tried justifying the entire document, and it made it worse. I couldn't begin reading it for all the spacing issues. I finally decided to just read it, and ignore them -- but it frustrated me so terribly that I had to give up.

    When I did get around to reading what was written, I laughed. My main characters were Bindy Vance and Marley Knox. The AI had them as Bindi Vance and Charles Marley. Yeah, well, that's not what I told it. Then, it decided to kill off Bindy's mother - Disney much?  The book started off with the mother dying, and how Bindy's love for her mother's dreams led her to move to Scotland to fulfill her mother's unfulfilled destiny. NOPE! That is NOT what I asked for, not by a million miles.  TRASHED IT.

    I think I read half of the first chapter before skipping through the next 300 pages and finding more and more discrepancies; too many to remember. I consumed a lot of chocolate in the process, just trying to calm myself. I couldn't have been more disappointed if I had tried. I decided to scrap the entire project and tell the world my opinion of having thought it was a good idea to allow AI to run free with my words. I've learned it's not only a bad idea, but it's also something we should consider if we use AI to do anything else for us.

    I noticed something else after reading the first half of the first chapter. I guess it never dawned on me before, but all my lead characters in my novels are women, unless they are Nick Posh. Nick Posh, of course, is the lead character in all of the Nick Posh books, but in all of my non-Nick books, the character that is the lead is a woman. I don't know if I did that subconsciously because Nick was in all the Nick Posh books, or if it is because I like developing other characters. My best friend likes the fact. She's always been a big girl-power type. I'm not really bothered either way.

    No more AI for me, in that I won't ask it to do more than just take a line or two and fluff it. I ask it to give me a good start for a paragraph, or to add color to this or that paragraph. I write my own books. I'm almost 99% sure that I wouldn't have liked the book even if it had been written to my input -- I would have found a reason to hate it because I didn't write it. I'm such a snob. People will ask me if I read this or that author, and I don't. Sorry, I don't. I don't have time to read much because I'm writing. I prefer to do the fingers on the keys thing - it's who I am.

    That's it. That's all I have for you. I'll let my friend Brandi Kinikin know that she'll just have to be embedded into the next Posh book instead of into the modern-day Highland romance I titled "Cheeky!".  She'll understand. I may use her maiden name because I already have a Brandianne Kiskis in one of my Posh books -- it's not the same, I know, but pretty close. I like to keep things a little less confusing if I can.  I'll make her a really interesting character -- she'll love it. OK then, I'm off to start the next Posh book -- ON MY OWN -- without any help from any AI until I need a flash of fun...but just a flash. I wouldn't trust anyone or anything with Nick!

Photo Credit: Me.

New Juicer.

     Hello! I'm coming to you from my office, where I have just sat down again after getting up to go to the kitchen to make myself a juice in my new juicer. Yes, you read that correctly. I have a new juicer. I did the whole looking it up on my Facebook timeline, to see when it was that I bought my old juicer - a really good one, and it was 2011. That's 15 years, and yes, it's still working. There is nothing wrong with it. I may end up donating it to someone. I replaced it with one literally half its size that does the same thing.

    Kitchen space is premium, you know. You can't have every gadget and/or appliance out on your cabinet. You have to decide which ones are worthy and which ones are not. I don't drink coffee anymore, so the espresso machine and the coffee maker were left behind before I moved to the new house. It was a little hard to give them away, but I did. I found good homes for both of them. The juicer probably won't be any more difficult, to be honest. It's a lovely machine, and if it weren't so bulky and intricate, I'd keep it. Believe me when I say that fifteen years of engineering and technology have come a long way!

    The Hamilton Beach model, big, bulky, white with green trim, and about 7 or 8 different parts, was too big to leave out, and if I wanted to drag it out every day, I'd be bending over and lifting and washing, drying it, and bending back over to put it away again. Then, because it was put away, I'd make up some excuse not to make another juice until the weekend. I didn't want that - I know how horrible I can be. I decided to get a more compact machine, one that will be out on the counter screaming at me to use it.

    I went with the Tuumiist Cold Press Juicer with a 5.3" extra-large feed chute so I can put whole fruits and vegetables in it, and I watch it grind away, stripping all the peels and/or pulp from the liquid goodness that comes out the other side. Very handy-dandy, and quite interesting to observe.  It was $85.47 on Amazon, with taxes and all about $94 I think. Close to that. I decided to celebrate; to treat myself for having been named Employee of the Year at work -- God is simply too good! He deserves the applause. I'll take the juice. (Which is funny, because He made that too.)

    I can't wait to put several orange halves into the machine and watch them churn. I didn't have everything I needed today to make anything special, but I did have carrots, spinach, ginger, and pineapple, so that's what I made! The pineapple wasn't a whole fruit. I did cheat a bit. I have 100% pineapple juice in a carton that I use for my afternoon snack; I used it. When I get the oranges, I'll try to make something really bright and colorful - maybe mix a few raspberries into the thing!

    Why juice instead of just eating the carrots or maybe a spinach salad? The simple answer is you can blend them, whereas when you eat a carrot, you get a carrot. Yes, the fiber is very important. That's why I keep the fiber from the vegetables and fruit I juice, and mix it with a little bran flour, eggs, and a few other ingredients to make muffins that absolutely hit the spot. (I don't do that every time, but I do it enough.)  

    I can soak walnuts overnight, then add them to the juicer to make a really good milk.  I've only done it once, but it was good. I added a little vanilla and cinnamon, and yes, it was a great treat - really good stuff.  I'm thinking of making cookies with the leftover pulp—I can freeze it and decide later. I'm really hoping the juicer will push me to keep my health up, exercise more, eat less, and be more aware of what I put into my body. I need the reminder. 

    One of the recipes that I found online that I know will be a fantastic drink for me is the Detox Green. (hurom.com) A lot of other people call it something else; it's not new or original, but it is a good green detox. It has 4 ingredients: spinach, lemon, cucumber, and ginger. I'd say for me, it's about a cup of spinach, 1/2 a cucumber, 1/4 of a lemon, and just about 1/2 an inch of ginger. If I need to add a little water, I will, or a little pineapple juice. I drink between 4 and 6 ounces in the morning when I remember. 

    Grabbing a juice instead of a candy bar makes a lot more sense to me. Grabbing a carrot or a stick of celery may not happen every time, but I open the fridge and shake up something I juiced earlier, and it's not only better for me, but it's also cold, and it's filling. The calorie intake is way, way lower, and I know I'm helping my old body stay (or get) fit. I need that reminder most every single day -- oh, you know, 5x a day.

    This getting-old stuff is for the birds, I have to be honest. It is not for the faint of heart, and if you don't know what your plan is for your body when it happens, it could be hard to kickstart once the slouch of life has grabbed hold of you. My friends, some of whom have always been healthy and others who have not, all agree that juicing is a great way to get the vitamins, minerals, liquids, and flavors you need. The healthier ones will tell me to save the pulp for another purpose.

    Amazon has a lot of choices for you, as does any Walmart, Target, or home store, probably. Do a little research first to determine what you want. The slower, low-speed (one-speed) 300W cold press is the one I went with because I wanted to watch it churn.  I like the way it fits in the kitchen. It's easy to disassemble and clean, and it's not hard to put back together and use again. I literally just spray it clean with hot water - I don't have to clean out the base because nothing gets into the mechanism, which, by the way, did happen with the older model. I'm telling you, technology and engineering have made a big improvement over the past decade and a half.

Photo Credit: Amazon.com