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

That's Me, the Warthog!

    So, about a week ago, a person I know and I had a bit of a spat. We didn't see eye to eye on a matter. The thing is, we are two very different people, and at first glance, you'd see her from a 30,000-foot point of view and think she's harmless, she's normal, average, basic enough, but when the rubber hit the pavement, as it were, her true colors began to show; and that's when mine did.

    There are many ways to say this, but I'll say it the way I know best: directly. She's a follower, a very good follower, and does exactly what she is told. She has no imagination, no creativity, no spontaneity, and she's perfectly incapable of making a decision on the fly. If she were forced to do so, she would collapse. I, on the other hand, due to years, even decades, of falling flat and realizing where the mines are buried, have been capable and willing to make split-second decisions as well as to take on the full responsibility of those decisions should they fail.

    There was a spat. She did something she shouldn't have done (no, she did 4 or 5 things she shouldn't have done), and others called her out on it both in a general meeting and privately when we spoke to her. Her reaction, apparently, was to retaliate; to me, that's a coward's choice. You do the math. To make a long story short, I decided to take the high road and to let it go without escalating it. I decided to let her fall on her face a second and even third time without assisting her, so she could see exactly how much more she needs my assistance, and how very little I need hers. Petty? Maybe, but I didn't do anything - I simply didn't do anything.

    Others banded with me, not with her, and in fact, they have been actively seeking her removal, while I have remained somewhat neutral on the matter. I believe she is working hard and doing the best she can, but if what she needs to do is outside her scope of capabilities, then I'll have to let the natural course of things take its place. I am not in charge of it; I won't add to or remove from it. She will have to fight that particular battle alone, as I am not going to help her in any way; not now.

    Several of us spoke in the evening on a conference call; we can do that, you know, we're American.  We came up with scenarios, and we decided that each of us has a unique personality and many traits that relate to or could be compared to various military weapons and/or vehicles, if you want to call flying craft vehicles. It was immediately clear that my personality, experience, age, and demeanor resemble the AC10 Warthog. I wasn't sure how I thought about that until I did a bit of research, and I have to say, I am a Warthog at heart!

    I'll let Google tell you about it: The A-10 Warthog (officially the Fairchild Republic A-10 Thunderbolt II) is widely considered one of the most dangerous and feared close air support aircraft in history due to its unmatched combination of devastating firepower, extreme low-altitude maneuverability, and legendary "flying tank" durability. It was designed with a single, aggressive purpose: to loiter low over the battlefield and obliterate heavily armored ground targets. 

    So, there you have it. This Scorpion-born, Year of the Ox, stubborn, head-strong, thinking machine is, in fact, an AC10 Warthog when it comes to making decisions. I'm a low-flying craft; you see me coming. I want you to see me coming. I want you to hear me. I expect to be heard, and then when the time is right, if you force me to use my weapons, I will. I'll not only use them, but I'll also obliterate what's in front of me even if it means I have to make future plans for myself. I won't let anyone micromanage me, second-guess me, strong-arm me, or put the kind of pressure on me that too many people have tried in the past -- I will obliterate. I have earned every damn stripe I have.

    The others also decided the person in question was more or less a Chinook helicopter. Big, bulky, lumbering, slow, strong, and has use, but she is incapable of actual combat because she depends on everyone else; she can't move forward at any rate of speed, choosing rather to hover, stagnate, keep everything churning above her head, and this causes bottlenecks that the rest of us just can't afford or live with -- we break through. We show our teeth when this happens. Luckily for me, I didn't have to do much obliterating - the F16, B2 Bomber, and other crafts stepped up and did it for me. The Chinook has been stationed.

    One of the others, I won't say who, has self-described himself as the C-130 Hercules (One of Lockheed's best).  He said he was there to carry us where we needed to go. He was big enough to be imposing, and he knew where to go, when to go, and how to get us into position to do whatever we needed to do to get the job done.  I love that. He is a true leader, not a follower. He knows who brings the money home. He has the right attitude, mindset, and ideas. Ego has nothing to do with it - he got where he is by being the best at what he does.

    So, this little Warthog is moving forward. I'm fully loaded, but if I don't have to use my munitions, I won't. I'll keep my smirky-toothy grin on my face and my head down with my eyes fully open. I'll work and play hard. I'll do what I'm supposed to do, but I won't be pulled back out of commission by a wind-sucking easy target with heavy maintenance issues. I can't be pulled back; I have a job to do. I've been at the top of my game for years; why would I stop or even slow down so someone with less experience can think about something before moving forward - nope!

    

Photo Credit: Popular Mechanics

     

Deciding to Choose Joy.

     I am exceptionally angry right now, and I have a bona fide and justified reason to be so. I'll get into it a bit later, but just know that I had a good reason to flare up, and when I flared up, I decided to be honest, open, transparent, and blunt. I said what I believed needed to be said, and I really didn't give a damn if the person on the other end of the phone was upset, because she was the reason I was mad in the first place. I had let myself care about her too long, give a hoot about her personal life, and I even offered my advice on far more than 100 occasions since January of this year.

    Let me start by saying I haven't ruined a relationship; I've just decided to change my role in that relationship now that the other person has shown not only her true colors but has also been about as narrow-minded and short-sighted as possible. If it took skin off my body, I wouldn't have cared. If it took food out of my mouth, I wouldn't have cared, but she messed with my money.  You don't do that. You just do not do that.

    I won't go into what happened. If you're one of my best friends, you'll find out when you come over and drink tea with me, or when you drive around the city looking for bargains. I'll tell you then, and we can go to Walmart and buy a load of good chocolate to top off our adventure. Sometimes chocolate is simply the answer. This was one of those times. 

    I mean, yes, I was and am so mad, I unfriended her on Facebook, and I'm not going to invite her back because really, after knowing her for nine months, she hasn't grown in terms of being more intelligent with her choices; she's become a door mat for others to walk on, kick, and leave dusty as they go on with their own lives. I'm sorry, but I don't be pathetic. I like people to stand up and defend themselves. Is that really too much to ask?

    It was a work thing, but I won't say what. She made a choice, a decision that shouldn't have been made, and it pissed me off. We have guidelines and rules, and I abide by them. Hell, I wasn't the Employee of the Year last year because I don't know how to respond to people. I was given the honor and the title because I deserved it. I was the most productive, and I took time out of my day to assist and train others. I was voted into that position. She wasn't even there. I actually replaced her; she had quit the month before I started. I took her place. 

    She returned, but in another role. I'm told she was average, and I can see that. She's slower, more thorough perhaps, but in commission-based work (recovery work) you can't beat around the bush; you make the calls, do the work, get the offer, and submit it. You don't overthink; you cross the Ts that don't need to be crossed if you already have the offer. You don't need to stop, mull it over, think about it, and go through ten to fifteen more steps; you grab the damn bull by the horns, throw it down, and get up! It's really no wonder she didn't return in the same role.

    One of...no, five of her decisions lately have put me and several others at bay. She's caused us to be behind. She's caused us to have to wait. She's put us so far behind the 8-ball, we're wondering if we're sinking or swimming; we're not sure, the water is high, and we're moving, but it just doesn't look like we're making any strides.  I called her out on it nicely; I was transparent and polite about it two weeks ago. Nothing changed, and I was a bit more direct last week. Nothing changed, and when another decision to keep the turtle's pace continued, I let her have it when she asked me what I thought about this or that. I let her know exactly what I thought, and what everyone in my department thought as well.

    Work relationships should more or less stay in their place until you have reason to trust one another outside work hours. I live really close to two of my co-workers, and we shop together, hang out, and discuss stuff. She lives in another state, but we Facebooked, texted, and talked by phone nearly every day - until today.  I decided, like I decided a year ago that I no longer wanted to drink mass-produced coffee, that I just didn't need her in my life after the closing bell. I'll be polite. I'll be professional. I'll be useful, helpful, and supportive -- at work.

    I can't say I'm mad. That was the wrong choice of words to use earlier. I'm disappointed. I'm upset (a little) because her actions have caused me to face consequences, but I'll be OK. I've got God to pull me through. I've got all the characters from every book I've ever written or am about to write inside my head, and I can strike up a conversation with any of them at any time, and they'll tell me what I should have said to her. I wish I were so free -- but Jesus has me by the soul. I can't say what I wanna say. What did Auntie Em say in the 1939 Classic, the Wizard of Oz? "For twenty-five years I've wanted to tell you exactly what I think of you, but now, being a Christian woman, I can't."

    Well, I can say it's been twenty-five years; more like two and a half months, really. She's forfeited my concern by bottlenecking my production. She's forced me into a holding pattern, and I'm not a helicopter; I'm a rocket! I don't hold well. I work. I don't hover; I strike. I've decided to be joyful, not necessarily happy, but I am going to be joyful. I can choose that. I'll work. I won't involve her anymore than necessary, and when it becomes time that she becomes necessary, I'll seek another path if I can, because there really are more paths to choose.  

    If, because I'm no longer conversing or being chatty-chat-chat with her, I feel that she's oppressing my progress, I'll switch gears. I'm good at that. I can dance. I can sing. I can smile, and I can survive because life isn't about being happy; it's about choosing joy. I can find another way. I can find a way out. I can find means to shine without needing to dim her light. I just won't shine mine in her direction.   Co-workers, in my experience, come and go. She will too. With the choices she's made lately, I can't see her hanging on much longer anyway - all this frustration may be for naught.

    God is good. He is always good. He led me through the thick of it last year when I needed Him, and He'll never stop leading me. There is nothing in that Good Book that says I have to keep talking to the woman; I don't have to be mean, nasty, or rude either, but I sure as hell don't have to be accommodating, available, or even affable. I'll be cordial, polite, even accessible. I don't have to change the brightness of my light -- I have learned a great deal in these 64 years, and letting go of the negative is one thing I'm getting really good at.

Photo Credit: Target.com

Coffee Redo -- I'll Try

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    

Book Review - Dion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo Credit: Magnific.com

Narrow Escape. (God is so Good)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    

Photo Credit: Think Eternally

I Own (Mortgage) a House!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo Credit: FoamFacts.com

    

Moving Day - Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo Credit: Milo's sanctuary.

MOVING DAY - Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Happy Birthday Oliver Ernest Stringfellow! 

    

CLEAR TO CLOSE!!! (Best Words)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com