There was This Man - In a White Hat

One afternoon sometime in late April 1999, I was skimming through the WANT ads on the internet for fun. By WANT ads I mean personals. Men who wanted a relationship - I guess with someone like me, a woman who was looking for a man who wanted a relationship. Actually, truth be known, I was doing what a lot of men do - window shopping. I had no intention of actually stepping over the line and introducing myself. I was just looking - looking can be more fun at times because you can make up little stories about the people in the pictures - makes it seem a bit more mysterious, perhaps even more interesting than the truth at times.

There he was. Just smiling a little thin smile from under a white cotton fedora - courting a salmon pink shirt, all muscled up, tanned, and pretty - laying back on the plastic strips of a lounge chair somewhere on a beach somewhere in a world somewhere other than the reality of my dull and boring world. He was certainly pretty - and his name was Clark. Clark, the man in the white hat. Clark, the man in the pink shirt. Clark, the man in my dreams for the next 18 months or so - and by dreams I mean dreams - vivid and lucid dreams with cloudless days, beaches that run forever, and palm trees without falling coconuts - just palms - and me with Clark. The reason the dreams continued for 18 months wasn't merely because the little photo of the man was THAT great - we actually became friends online.

I remember being disappointed to find out that his real name wasn't Clark - well, his middle name was, but he was a DAVID and that upset me because of my ex. Clark seemed like such a new and exciting name - to go with a new and extremely exciting man, daring in his voiced adventures, creative and stylish to boot - in fact, month after month passed with us on the phone with each other much more often than the hours we'd spend online chatting. Our phone calls lasted endlessly into the night, and I remember feeling absolutely floatatious with this man. He could lift my spirits, tweak my heart, and literally sent love beams searing through my soul - with just a whispered laugh. The man actually giggled at times - which made me tingle.

So what happened? I'm not sure. Oh, I can guarantee you that I slipped up. I said or did something that probably scared the devil out of this flirtatious and genuinely charming man. I probably threatened or intimidated him, making him feel less detached and more obligated to a relationship that was truly immaterial, intangible, distant, something not based on reality or touch since we seriously had never met....it never really ended - it just stopped. Gone, nothing more. At first I created an excuse - made something up to make myself feel better. My emotions ran the gambit of how-could-I, and that-was-stupid-Jude feelings - but then I became angry, perhaps grieving the loss of not only a friend but a dear friend - a true friend.

Well, time has healed me. Time has helped me to better understand not only the currents that run underneath relationships, but the reasons we even establish said relationships. I wasn't the least bit ready for a real boyfriend, what Clark (David) and I had was all fantasy - but it was indeed a fantastic adventure at times for both of us. What brings me to this blog? Why now? What could possibly have occurred to make me think of the man I once referred to in code as "The one I wish I knew"? His birthday actually, no it isn't today. His birthday is March 15, a day of infamy actually in the literary world. My good friend Niki's son asked me a question today - he knew his mom would make him look up the answer online and he didn't want to take the time to do something he could ask me to answer for him I guess. Eric asked me "Hey, what happened on March 15 that made all the difference to the world at some point and time in history? I gotta know for English."

What happened? Well, a man was born - he turned my heart upside down, and then he went away - but something tells me that Eric was more or less unimpressed with my immediate answer and sought something more along the lines of Julius Caesar's assassination. I, on the other hand was completely untouched by the brutality of that day, and completely blown away by the man in the white hat. To be so again - is that asking too much?

Stress Relieving Can be so....Stressful!

I'm laughing! I'm really laughing - I picked up a book today at the bookstore that lined out several methods to reduce one's stress and believe it or not, I'm actually doing just about everything in the book (without having to actually purchase it for the benefits) and I'm still suffering from all the non-benefits of being a stressed out person. Believe it or not, my doctor tells me that my weight loss program is perfect, I'm doing everything I can do - except that I'm not losing as much as I want, or as fast as I want to lose that extra twenty because I'm stressed.

Now, I just found this out today OK. I went to the doctor to talk about the weight loss. I had already blogged about it, so you knew from reading this week that I'm fighting that last few (OK 20-25 pounds) that has squatted and taken up residency behind my back - and to be honest, in front too - mostly in front, but I lie to make myself feel better. DOCTOR, I asked WHY? We went over my day, my week, my month, my year, my goals, my plans, my children - BINGO! I could go on, I could mention Iraq, immigration problems, obesity in America, lack of good water sources in Oklahoma, draughts in the world - heck, I could get really personal and just explain the stress I feel from trying to get to the washing machines before some of the other tenants in my building; but the REAL truth of it is - I'm a mom!

Stress, it turns out, is the one thing that's shaping my body these days. Without stress I could be fit, trim, full of energy, and probably having a martini right now on the shores of some exotic island with a man I found irresistibly hot -- except even my fantasies are gauged as being somewhat stressful according to His Highness, the doctor I paid good money to analyze my diet problems. He said I'm not suppose to SEE the man in my fantasies, I'm suppose to think him - experience him through thought, not vision. I see Gary! Not everybody else's ideal fantasy man, but mine OK...I like what I SEEEEEEE. But the real problems are named: Reuben, Laura, and Caity. Seems I've been allowing them to edge their way into my psyche for years - into my heart, into my soul, into my cells, they're making me FAT!

I worry about Reuben being in the Army. He's got a broken arm right now, and the field attendants are making him do a two-week exercise. I got the call yesterday that he's hurt his left hand now. (But he should be OK - stressful.) I worry about Laura and Caity getting their butts out of bed to get to college on time. They didn't remember their books. I found them in the car this morning. STRESS. You know what? I think the good doctor may be onto something. If I could just do everything in that book and and and and and....get rid of about 400 or so pounds of "baby fat"; I'd be just fine. BUT, then I'd have too much time on my hands and probably join a commune, plant a pot garden, get caught and spend 11 years behind bars! I could chance it.

According to the book I'm suppose to burn citrus and sage candles. I'm suppose to take baths with lavender oils. It would be best if I took 3 ten-minute breaks each day and just took deep breaths, inhaling fully and exhaling completely. I should also increase my intake of vitamin B products, eat more spinach for the folic acid, and I should journal, write, read, or pet an animal - dogs actually relax a person more so than cats - as cats are often temperamental and disrupt the petting event - dogs will literally stay and allow the session to continue on and on and on...wonder if Gary would stay still long enough to - - I digress.

More baths! More journaling! More tuna, blueberries, green tea, and less coffee (to hell with that one). I'll have to drink more tea because I can't say good bye to the babies - they need me as much as I need them. However, I could do with a little beach and a little solitude. Maybe just me and Matrix in Panama City, a Defoe novel - sun and wind, salted air, and lavender oils a little later on....I kid myself.

Britney Spears' Comeback on the VMAs

OK - I'll talk about it. I wasn't even going to watch the VMA's until I heard that Britney was going to be opening the show with a great new song and a comeback video. WHAT? MTV is actually going to do videos again? That was my first reaction. I'm an old-MTV fan, back in the day with Mark Goodman and Quinn...anyone remember? Videos? VJs....remember? Anyway, so there I was on the couch drinking aloe vera juice and lemon, because that's the drink of the day now - - and the clock struck 8:00 p.m. Central Standard Time: Britney Time.

I looked. I watched. I thought it over. I realized she was live. She was actually dancing while I was watching. She was probably the most nervous person on the face of the planet, and there is NO WAY I would have had the strength, the guts, the talent, or the moxy to pull off what she attempted to pull off. She achieved a helluva lot more than most people gave her credit for in the tabloids, on the gossip shows, or on the internet - she proved to herself that she could do something that perhaps she thought she couldn't do again. She performed live in front of millions and millions of people - after having been away from the industry, after having been made fun of for a very long time, after having gone through a divorce, battles, painful relationships, custody issues - and you know what - she dealt with body issues, rehearsals, practices, and yes - she dealt with her demons too. Britney pulled it off.

Now, she may not have performed at the top of her game. She may not have even satisfied the hungry wolves who sat out there looking for blood - waiting for her to fail, just like they did when Paris and Nicole went to jail. She danced. She messed up on the lip-syncing - so would you, so would I! But DAMN IT, Britney danced! I hope she did it more for herself than for the money. I hope she did it more for herself than for the celebrity. I hope she found a thread of happiness among the feeble fabric of what passed as friendships - because so many of the worst critics Sunday night claimed to be her friends. I would have probably chosen a better costume. I would have chosen a better method of coming back - perhaps something in the middle of the show rather than the first thing - but I don't have millions of sales to my name, and my name isn't Britney now is it?

Everyone matures. Everyone grows. Everyone changes - one thing remains - heart. Girl's got it. Leave her alone. Oh, and if you're looking for a way to find a way to leave her alone, you try standing where she stood. If she has ONE fan - (albeit a fan that would sit her down and talk straight into her face about the behavior) it would be me. Hats off to you B!

Sometimes Poetry Interrupts my Sleep!

I dreamed this. I decided to write it out. See if you can figure out my dreaming - see if you can grasp the comparison to Poe.

No Cask to Share

Two fools bound together
But Heart has taken stand
To lead the first fool, soul
To end. Running sands

A corridor - a life
Twisted tunnels. Stairs
My motley colored beater
Pulled and lured through tears

Fastened through all time
One but we are torn
How my heart has suffered
Loving. Fallen. Forced.

Just a little further
Drink to ease your ail -
Oh my friend, this is your end
I'll brick by brick prevail.

Angered by my last insult
A thousand Heart had taken
But this final love I chose
For this - I won't be wakened

Chained to walls Heart led me to
At the end - destined
Heart has fallen for a man
Soul can't have - or loosen

At my end, my motley core
Has given up to lose
While I, my very being
Chained - cannot choose

A carnival upstairs somewhere
Awaits us to return
Heart and Soul have loved their last
For better or for ruin



Jude Stringfellow
September 10, 2007

Where Do I Sign?

Some soldiers, like these two, just can't get enough of the Army cooking I guess! Even though both now have received their Honorable Discharges from the U.S. Army, both have resigned and are willing and wanting to serve you and me again! I don't know whether to smack them up side the head, or to hug them and say "Thank You!" I think I'll just cry.

So what is it about serving in the Army that makes these perfectly good looking, healthy, energetic, seemingly intelligent people (and hundreds of thousands like them) want to stay in when they have the opportunity to fly? We all know it isn't the pay. The benefits aren't bad, the educational program is even tolerable, but for most of them it is the opportunity to finish the job(s) they started a few years back. They started working and they got really good at something and then it ended - sometimes slower than they anticipated, sometimes faster. For Bigenho, the girl G.I., it was the boy G.I. standing next to her. He and she are actually - dare we say it out loud and over the internet - IN LOVE! They're getting married. They actually think they look good together, and from the smiles on their faces when they're standing close enough to feel each other's body heat (Laura is secretly smelling the fabric softener she slipped in Marcus' laundry) they think that rejoining is not only the best choice, it's the one that makes the most sense to them - they have unfinished business!

Our men and women both come out of their service experience with a new awareness of what it is to be a leader. Perhaps applying the trades and techniques they've learned over the past few years in the civilian world just doesn't make as much sense. You know, you can't very well get to work at 0500 if your civilian job starts over three hours late! Forget about clocking in and out, these Army people don't know how to do that - they're 24/7/365. It's hard for an Army soldier once released into the wilderness of the business world to stop standing at attention when the boss comes into sight. It's even harder for them to stop looking both left and right when they come to an intersection in the office cubicles - imagine their plight. (Imagine them standing in front of their empty clothes closets wondering what to wear since drab green and dust are no longer options!

So I say this, GREAT GUNS to Bigenho and Levering - thank you both! Thank you for loving each other, for holding onto dreams, for making new and exciting decisions at such a young age - and thank you both for your service to the world, to the country, to the states and people you represent - and for protecting me. I love you!

HOOAH!

P.S. But DON'T YOU THINK for a second that I'll let Reuben do that! He better get his butt home, go to college, become the coach he was destined to be, and just look good on my couch! Hahaha

Don't Try to Fool A Mother!

If THIS was the first thing you saw when you got up in the morning you might think twice about rolling out of that bed!

A picture very similar to this one was sent to me recently by a Sgt. Major who will remain unnamed. I don't wish to embarrass the man. He sent me a 12 mega pixeled, high definition photo with 16 military men/women dressed exactly like this. They were all on their knees, they had their weapons up in the air, and they had their camouflaged foliage covering their faces. There was a caption at the bottom of the photo it read: "Challenge Mom: Find your son!" I called the man immediately on the phone because he had included his cell number in the message as well. "Hello" I said to the man. "Are you ready for me to identify my son?" He laughed at me. He said "No, wait, let me go down the hall and do this right." He walked down the corridor of a building I could not see because he was in Alaska and I was in Oklahoma.

He then knocked three times on the door and yelled "Stringfellow! Get up!" It was about 7:10 a.m. on Saturday, my son usually sleeps in on Saturdays, but sleeping in to the Army means something more like 0600, so he couldn't really get mad at me if his Sgt. Major was demanding his presence. The door opened and I heard my son's voice asking his Sgt. Major if he needed to be somewhere - no, came the answer, "I'm on the phone with your mom, she's going to try and identify you from the shot we took last month of you guys in the clearing." I heard a laugh. I heard my son's voice again, he said "She can. She will."

"Go ahead" said the Sgt. Major, and I directed his attention to the boy (or the person in uniform) that was 7th from the right. He counted, he was quiet - then she said "Son of a bitch!" Reuben laughed and I said "You must be addressing my son Sgt. Major, as I am the Bitch - he is the son of the bitch." The SM laughed and asked how it was that out of 16 uniformed dressed soldiers, all looking what he thought was identical in size, shape, coloring, weapons, everything - how was it that I could find my son that readily? It seemed to him, impossible. I told the truth. I told him it took about a minute, it wasn't an immediate recognition. I had to do a bit of a study - but upon examining the knee caps of all the soldiers, and the stance, and the height and angle of the his elbow I was sure that my son was the 7th from the right. I was correct.

Well, it wasn't the first time I had actually identified my baby from a photo of seemingly identical subjects, but this one was a bit more challenging because of the subject matter. The first had been a football photo, a practice game where the boys were all giving their high-five in masse, and I just found him by his elbow - same right elbow; which today if I had to recognize him would be dressed in a cast since he has broken that arm recently. But the point was simple: Don't try to fool a mom! Ask the fathers to pick out their children, ask a brother to pick out a sibling, but don't try to pull one over on the woman who gave birth to that particular boy! That is MY son - the others are equally talented perhaps, equally good looking, perhaps they have attributes of greatness that my son does not at this time possess - but try as they may, they will never have my son's exact knee. They can not squat the same, bend the same, hold their head or arms the same, and they don't generate a vibration of extreme unity like my boy does when I see him (even in photographs).

I'm not really sure I could do it every time. I'm not sure I would be as successful if one of my girls were in the same situation - I would hope so, but I have not had that challenge come up. There's just something about a boy and his mother - he is the man of our house. He is the protector, he is the one we trust to make some of the difficult decisions that must be made - a role he assumed and has achieved successfully. The Sgt. Major said he was going to call his own mom next to see if she could find him - I warned him, it may depend of whether or not he could pick her out if he needed to. Did he have THAT strong of a relationship with her. He chuckled a bit and said "You know, maybe I could, maybe I couldn't - but I bet that old woman can spot me. I'll let you know!" I await that call.

Go Army!

Let Me Explain the Word "Warrant" to YOU.

I went to the post office today to pick up all the fan mail for my dog. Believe it or not, I answer anywhere from 100 to 200 pieces of mail every week for the sweetheart. I usually answer by e-mail, unless someone has given me a self-addressed stamped envelope - so if you're thinking of mailing us something, please do - but remember, I do have to keep the response short. So, there I am at the post office, staring at the mounds of letters and little presents when I see a very plain and ordinary white size 10 envelope with the seal of the Great City of Oklahoma City blazing right on the front - top left. Seems someone from DOWNTOWN wants to talk to me. I doubted the fine officers of our city wanted to have tea or set up a time where we could go over the fall line up of new uniforms. I could almost guess that someone out there was unhappy with one of my children. Since Reuben is safely in the Army, that leaves Caity. (If you know me, and you know I have another daughter named Laura, then you know that Laura couldn't possibly have upset anyone. It must be Caity.) I was correct in my assumption.

The letter started out badly. "We have a warrant for the immediate arrest of Caitlyn Brook Stringfellow" (this can't be good) Apparently, back in November 2006 my darling was involved in a little .... well, the word is larceny. She was in the presence of another young girl who was picked up for stealing - was my daughter innocent? No. She was right there with her, and she admitted her guilt. However, she didn't quite give the full and correct information to the kind officer, and therefore, another $195.00 ticket for submitting false information to a law enforcement officer was attached. Sweet child of mine. Sweet, sweet, child of mine! I take 100% responsibility for the mishap - I gave birth.

In the past 10 months since this event my darling has actually completed her probational community service, she's cleaned the church for more than 80 hours. She's been available for impromptu speeches at schools and other community locations wherein she has to admit her guilt and explain to others what it means to be caught, and to do the time for the crime. What she wasn't clear on was that she, my sweet cherub spawn from hell, was that she had to pay the $390 for the two offenses! That caused the computer to spit out this letter, and now my little white haired pumpkin is hiding in the closet so that she won't be seen on the streets! I'm sure I'll be able to make arrangements with the city, but I'm not going to tell her. I think it's very healthy for her to hide out on the down-low where I know exactly where she is. This stops her from driving without her license. It stops her from dancing in public without her shoes or her shirt! (Did I mention she's a hippie?) She has been seen in the general populous looking like the free spirit that she is, but at least ONE thing is for certain - this particular free spirit PAYS for everything she wants - no more 5-finger discounts for her. She has learned her lesson. 80 hours of cleaning toilets, mopping, sweeping, vacuuming, putting hymnals in their places, and carrying out the trash in the youth area has taught her a few things! Good things!

So, when I called her today I asked her if she knew what WARRANT meant. Her brother, God bless and protect him, didn't. He couldn't spell it correctly either had I asked, but I didn't ask, I realize he's publicly educated. Reuben had a couple of warrants out for his immediate detention because he left the state with outstanding tickets - all speeding! Boy oh boy! It cost me $1508.00 to put that man in the Army and it took a letter from his commanding officer to get him OK'd to swear in. He just didn't know the meaning of WARRANT - he more or less thought it mean "pay in the future sometime". So, I say that to say this - teach your children well, the ones you love, the ones you live with. It could very well mean the difference between having your car for the weekend and letting your brat have full control again.

I'm going to milk this warrant thing for weeks. I know she won't read my blog to find out the truth, and she won't know that I've paid it in full - so she'll think she's indebted to me! I love being a mom.

Literary Agents - Attention Please.

Calling all literary agents with good reputations - I am in need of getting my books published with a major house so that they can be placed in the millions of hands whose voices are calling for them around the world. My book "With a Little Faith" (2nd Ed.) has sold more than 20,000 copies, but it is ONLY available in the U.S. It is available through Amazon and through the publisher Xlibris, but it is too expensive and the shipping for overseas postage is so high it is impossible to sell. There is a second book now, "Faith Alone: Stories of an Amazing Dog". It has sold in the neighborhood of 6,000-8,000 copies in the almost six months it's been available and it will be blasting off the shelves for the publisher willing to take it. WHY? WHY do you ask?

This past week my dog Faith has been featured in more than a dozen tabloids in Europe. Don't ask me why. She's cute - really amazing, and I suppose the television stations that are calling me this week and setting up interviews (literally flying to Oklahoma to meet with me from different countries including Spain, Brazil, Korea, and Germany) have all read the articles. Faith is the Most Photographed Dog in the World. We know that - but now she's becoming more. She's becoming a media darling - you can check out her website at www.faiththedog.net and see where she's been on various television shows in America, but soon you'll see links to shows in many other countries.

Each and every time someone interviews me I ask them to promote my books so that I can give them a better deal on their interview or daily fee. I just hate to see someone pay too much for something - knowing how I would feel if it was coming out of my own pocket. That's the problem I'm having with the publisher Xlibris - they charge too much. They want people to pay upward of $25+ for a hardback book that is only 124 pages long! I wouldn't pay that much for it, and I wrote it! The book is actually an incredible book - they both are. One is meant for memoir readers, the other is for educational and/or information about our adorable little girl - both need to be picked up and printed by someone with a reputation of being able to get the books translated into German, Swedish, Finnish, Danish, Spanish, Portuguese, Japanese, French, and at least a couple of Chinese languages - please!

I can't understand why the books are not being picked up. We were featured on Oprah, Montel, Maury, Ripley's, and in over 100 magazines and newspapers around the world including the Guidepost (May 2007). I don't want people to see Faith on the news in the next few weeks and have to pay too much for a copy of the book - someone knows who can do this. Someone knows someone that can help. I know you do. Believe me, I've been getting on my proverbial knees and begging agents but they don't listen. They think it would be too big of a project! Too big? Too Big? Since when has that stopped someone?

You know - if you're a producer, an agent, a publisher, a printer - or you work with one, or know one - please...I'm not even asking for an advance. I just want the book available for people so that they can have it to share with those they love. Faith's message is so important - it amazes me how books about something less interesting or less powerful get pushed right through. Well, this time - we're going to do something about it - pray first, ask others to help, and get it done!

My e-mail address is: faith@faiththedog.net Please, if you can help, please do. The books are all published with ISBNs and copyrighted. They just need a home! Xlibris is good to get started with, but it can't be the home of the future for these books - Google my name, Jude Stringfellow, you'll see the books immediately. Please, the process takes a while! THANKS SO MUCH. I really do appreciate it.

This week alone I have been interviewed on the phone by 2 separate television shows in South Korea and next week a crew comes to film. Today I was filmed by ARD-TV of Germany, and last week the Brazilian crew came out for a little children's show sort of like Fraggle Rock. The Spanish TV show is similar. The attention is over the top wonderful, but we want to be able to help those who are asking for books - books are meant to be read, not sitting in the warehouse. I don't mind lowering the price to the point that I make little profit. I just want the books out there.

Again, thank you.

Silly Catholics! Tricks are for Baptists!

I have the distinction of being the BAPTIST by at least six of my friends. I don't know how I attract so many Catholics into my friendship, but I do. One of my favorite Catholic/Baptist stories over the years has been when my friend now for over 40 years - Robyn, called me once to ask me who Jacob's father was. I thought she meant some kid we were in high school with or something. We were about 18 at the time. She calls me in the middle of the night, laughing, really laughing - "Who's Jacob's father, come on, I want to win!" It took me a minute to think - it was Halloween - she was at a party, and you guessed it, she needed the answer to a very very simple Bible question: Who is the father of Jacob? I told her. She won. I have no idea what I had helped her win, but it started something that hasn't stopped - all my Catholic friends call me, e-mail me, write me, asking me questions that for me seem effortless: How many tribes are there in the nation of Israel? What does the name Babel mean? Where is the actual Garden of Eden located?

For grins and giggles I'll tell you about Janice. I love this woman. She and I had worked in offices downtown that were situated next to each other. I worked for a protestant employer, she worked for a Catholic employer, her friend, and one of the parishioners of her church actually. She and Bob both would routinely come over to our office for Biblical clarification and Mr. Moler and I would often laugh about it - here were were capable at the drop of a hat to spew out tidbits of trivia that could used best during a contest I suppose. Never did it make the end of the world seem inevitable. Janice came over to my office one Christmas. She had in her hands a little box. She gave me a gift that she claimed from the bottom of her heart was something that meant the world to her - and it was a showing of her personal belief in Christ through her personal religion. I accepted the box. Inside the box was a little, old, red and white plastic rosary with a small white crucifix at the bottom. The cross itself had been gnawed on. I could see the glimpse and gleam in Janice's eyes. She had chewed on the base of the cross once or twice during a particularly tough time in her life. Tornado, bad test in Algebra, something to that effect.

Janice wanted me to give her something that meant a lot to me, it had to be something that was meaningful too. It also, in keeping with the theme of her gift - be something of religious significance to my personal walk. I thought about my offering. The next day I arrived to work with the same giddy happiness that she had displayed toward me in handing me her gift. I reached out to her and handed my good friend a rather heavy rectangular shaped box. She could tell it was warm before she opened it. When the box was opened, and the glass 9x13 Pyrex casserole dish pulled out - we both had breakfast! Cinnamon bread casserole. She didn't get it. I was laughing so loud my boss had to come over to see what I was carrying on about. "Baptists", I explain "Like to eat!" I also gave my good friend a little pink Bible with her name engraved on it. I had underlined the Roman Road - all the verses necessary to lead someone to salvation through grace. She adored the gift - we all did.

Recently I got a call from another Catholic friend. Her heart was hurting. Her soul was torn. The man she had been married to for more than 25 years had divorced her about a year before. He had just sent her a message through the mail. It said that by the time she received it he would be dead. He was going to be committing suicide. He knew her thoughts and worries about his soul and he didn't want any of that: he had cancer, he was already mad at God he explained. He just wanted her to know that she was still the beneficiary of his estate. She was to take care of herself and the kids with the money. He knew he would be OK. He doubted that she thought he would be. He told her that her beliefs in God precluded her from knowing he was actually going to be at peace. She would think he would be sent directly to Hell for his act. He instructed her in his letter to call me...the Baptist. I love that. Call the Baptist.

Well, let me tell you what I told her. The 20+ years I sold insurance told me that his claim would be paid. They had purchased the insurance well over 2 years before his act of self destruction. She was relieved to hear that - she and the kids needed to be cared for, and she knew his body would need to be prepared and buried as well. What about the Hell thing? She desperately wanted to know. He had been correct; her beliefs didn't allow for such thoughts. It was sin. Good to have a Baptist in the mix from time to time. Whether you're a Protestant, a Catholic, Islamic, or any other religion - Jesus actually does love you. The truth is, that the real truth lies within your heart - you know the answer. There is ONLY one sin that will send you to Hell - NOT accepting Jesus. Simple.

Murder is murder. But it is forgivable. So, that being said - let me say this. My friend is in Heaven. He is at peace, and because I knew him to be the OTHER Baptist in her life - I know he didn't take his life easily. It was a decision he hated, I know he was a mush braver man than I could be - I'm too damn selfish. Oh, and another thing - you guilt ridden Catholic friends of mine who refuse to let me out of the Baptist church parking lot Sunday after Sunday, as you slowly roll past me, intentionally going slow enough to wave, smile, and even make faces at me on your way out of your own parking lot - Our church development committee just approved another egress from our property! Take that! Ha! We may actually make it to the restaurants before you - of course, we'll both still have to wait on the Methodists to clear from the tables. They cut their prayers short or something!

Life is NEVER Easy.

I'm working with my daughter Laura's producer right now. His name is Marvin McElvany, he's one of the best music mixers and producers in the Southwest. He's trying to download Laura's new mp3 track to the www.showcaseyourmusic.com/Laura site where you too can hear my darling little girl sing her heart out. The mix was literally completed in less than 1 hour, she had to record it before she left for Ozzfest this summer. I promised Marvin that in the future I would allow him a lot more time for such things - maybe she can be really professional and pay the man! He'd probably appreciate that.



So, I'm sitting at the office trying to download the CD when it dawns on me (after the 6th try) that the site only wants Mp3 files downloaded. I thought it was an Mp3. I thought that's what he said he recorded. I think he actually recorded .wma and .cda files - and maybe thought he downloaded Mp3 on the disks. Whatever he did he did a great job, and I'm just waiting for him to do his local magic again, uploading the correct file so we can all enjoy her lovely voice. Of course she's already picking on herself, and saying she could have done this, or she should have done that. I should consider this to be a good thing - she's a bit of a perfectionist, and that's good for a musician and for an artist. Laura is both.



So, so, so, so, I'm waiting - mother that I am, I get a bit nervous - OK, bitchy, when things don't just pop in and do what I expected them to do. I have to be sweet and wait and be kind. I hate waiting - but there are times (like this) when the wait is worth it. We were at Marvin's listening to the finished product before we were here downloading, and she sounded so great! It was great seeing her sitting at the computer with her headsets on, a little wracked from the anticipation of the first notes from the track - her voice, her project, coming to fruition. Well, he'll be the producer for her first real CD, a full CD probably and he'll get that big fat THANK YOU from the stage when she wins American Idol or accepts her first major reward. That should be worth a smile or two.

Gotta love ya Baby Girl! You did good!