Land of Soy and Honey, Honey!

I was caught off guard today when my little white-haired brat child grabbed my cup of Starbucks and threatened to pitch it in the sink if I admitted that the white liquid mixed with the pumpkin spice and coffee was (how dare I) milk. It wasn't, it was soy. She and I have been drinking soy-milk for quite some time now, but she was all up in arms about me straying from the pact we made. She just KNEW I was cheating. I wasn't. I know where my milk belongs - in the cow, thank you. Laura, on the other hand snoffed at us both and drank from the cardboard carton which is now 100% hers to enjoy - Caity and I do the other, let satisfying, less damning liquid that actually stays preserved 10x longer than milk - have you noticed that?

So, what about this soy stuff anyway? I was all but floored when I was told by the Akins grocery bums that most Asian women don't suffer the problems, pains, and tortures of pre, post, or regular menopause because of their soy intake. We Americans get most of our protein from animals and well, the rest of the world seems to get a better health score now, don't they? Come to think of it, now that I've given up on hamburgers (damn it) and milk (damn it again) I do actually feel better. I move better, I'm not as fat, I'm able to breath deeper, and HEY.... that's not fair! I was hoping to be like my grandparents and live to age 90 something with the benefits of having eaten all the beef, potatoes, gravy, and bacon that I wanted to. What happened? Who took my sugar away and gave me honey? Oh yeah, the hippy I live with.

Honey, it turns out is good for more than just dressing up peanut butter. The English have always used it in their tea, but that's actually not the best way to a better more healthier you. I'm told by the EXPERTS (grocers again, people who stand around all day helping unsuspecting health-dummies like me) that honey on the spoon or by the bulk is great for raising antioxidant, lowering blood sugar, and all sorts of things, but they're quick to add that a baby under the age of 2 could die if they eat it - gag reflex or something. Please...that's freaking scary! I actually used honey in an entirely different way actually - used to heat it up with whiskey and lemon for the heck of it and tell everyone I had a sore throat - I guess I watched a bit too much TV as a kid and got to the point that I related to Granny of the Beverly Hillbillies; she lived for her "medicine". I just did it every now and then when I could get away with hiding lemons in my house. My kids hate whiskey.

Before long everything in my house will still have a little dirt on it from being plucked out of the ground. I don't have to tell you that we routinely wash our eggs before using them, but I make Caity break them for fear that a little undeveloped chick may be inside of one. She's not into store bought eggs either anymore. I swear, I should never have lent her my fringed coat and Steppenwolf LPs. She takes this flower power thing to the hilt at times...then again, I do feel better. I sleep better, I eat all day long and never gain weight - not eating actual calories will do that to you. The juice in my house is from the fruit(s). The oats are raw, the peanuts too, and if you look really hard you can spot the real sugar - but Laura slaps my hand when I reach for it...gatekeeper.

I Have the STRANGEST Children

Laura comes up to me and thrusts a camera at me, she says "Hey, come outside and take my picture, I'm going to post it on an anime site." Then she told me what site, and what character she is suppose to be. OK. I can do that. I go out and take a few strangely unusual shots before asking more questions that I really couldn't begin to understand the answers to. They all had something to do with shows I had never heard of, but apparently are rather popular.

So, the next day, not even 24 hours after she's posing in the rain like this - she and Caity are duct taping their breasts and butts so they can dress as boys and hit the mall trying to pick up their own female friends to see if they get recognized. I don't actually think it would work - they can't change their appearance really any more than they can change their voices to match those of 17 and 18 year old young men whose change has already taken place; that's not the point they tell me, I'm just suppose to be the cameraman...woman...whatever.

After they fail at their adventure they managed to undress themselves to reveal tape recorders and then they listened to their antics and the screaming from their friends who knew who they were and just went along with it for fun. When did being so weird get popular? Anyway, the next day or so, maybe a few days later, Laura decides to put 3 foot extensions in her hair and do the naked lady on the horse shot, but she can't get completely naked like Caity, who doesn't need a reason or a disguise to do it - Laura just ran around the house blushing every which way, and then gave up the project for an ice cream eating contest with her tiny little sister who eats (sometimes) as much as her BIG brother on a weekend. Laura lost - Caity's face was covered in ice cream from diving into it in order to win, the girl will not be beat at any competition even if she has no interest in the competition itself, she won't be beat.

Finally, one last thought on the girls before I leave you to pray for my sanity. I caught them both dancing and pretending to be rappers in the bathroom with the boombox blaring, their oversized clothes flopping around and then I heard one of them falling to the ground shrieking in laughter - she'd lost her footing while two-stepping, which by the way isn't a country-western step anylonger, it's a grunge thing - and she toppled over onto the door - neighbors were concerned. All was well, the dynamic duo have decided to give it a rest for a little bit, not knowing exactly what they're going as for the seven (7) different Halloween parties they've been invited to, but they do know what they're dressing up as for the one they are hosting. My little girls are actually going as each other. Laura as Caity, and Caity as Laura - see who can out insult the other!

Thank GOD for little boys. My son is dressing up as a Private First Class Soldier in the United States Army this year. Last year he went as a regular Private. Congrats my darling! You wear it well.

I Simply Must Stop Laughing!

Look at these lines on my face! They only show up when I'm happy.

I have to stop laughing immediately. Quickly, someone please remind me of what my life was like when I was married and the kids were growing up - No, thanks again - I'll take the smiles, the lines, the peace....well, there isn't all that much peace when you share a little place with two teenage girls who are either kissing or killing each other every minute of the day.

Presently they are happy with each other. That could change the second a boy walks into the club they're dancing in and says hi to just one of them. Cats don't sound off as loudly as my girls when they disagree - and you've heard cats going at it.

The thing about laughing and getting all wrinkly and line-infested is that each one of my lines could probably stand up and tell a story about how they came to rest so securely in my face. I taught in the hood for five years - I'm surprised my hair isn't gray, my teeth punched out, and the lines even deeper - but not from laughing. I cried as often as I grinned when I taught, believe me. Maybe those lines could tell you something about working cases for Mr. Moler and developing my own unique perspective of the laws of my state while I simultaneously upheld them myself to see them being abused in court when it came time to hold the judge accountable. Here I was working for a lawyer that was upstanding every single time, but the judge in my custody case obviously didn't learn the same law(s) that Mr. Moler practiced - she changed them at her own will and whim - the lines from those events run sideways across the top of my head I think....maybe in time they'll be covered by the more dominate and more satisfying humor huggers that fine and find me on a yearly basis. I do pray they do.

My girls are all but grown now - years of work, pushing, pulling, dragging, kicking, clawing, and screaming at the air to get that accomplished. To tell the truth, I use a great deal of those experiences in my comedy routines because parents of teens understand me. From stage I see a mom reach over and squeeze the hand of her eye-rolling 15 year old daughter, and I know she knows what I know. The daughter gets it too, but she's not going to let mom see her grin - later in the room on the phone with her friend the relative story gets told in giggles and screeching over cells and soda. ("She was soooo talking about me, I know it.")

Well - ENOUGH with the craters showing up on my face already, go to my knees or something, at least I can bend them and make them look like they're suppose to go away - from time to time I stand in front of the mirror and pull my cheekbones up, or my forehead - just to see what I would look like with a flatter more youthful face - Like Laura...and I smile again. Defeating the purpose, but satisfying the heart.

Who Knew That Garlic Could Do THAT?

I am always (and I mean always) amazed at what the natural remedy warriors tell me when I seek their advice at a natural foods store. I'm one of those people who for whatever reason just never listened to the holistic points of view - I always shopped for my pharmaceuticals in the store's pharmacy section. This diet that I'm working through (not ON, but actually doing) is amazingly simple and I am constantly stuffing my face. I eat more now than I ever did, but what I'm eating is healing me inside rather than hurting me both internally and therefore externally. I'm losing weight of course, shaping up, and getting the body to do what the soul and spirit have been doing for months - to work as a team.

I recently went to Akins and asked the gurus in the grocery section what to do for a toothache. I didn't have one, but a friend did, and she ONLY used home remedies. My friend had mistakenly told me to pick up fresh garlic for her - I thought maybe she wanted to ward off the evil spirits of pain or men, but she was serious about it being able to help heal the nerves under the gum line. She was right! The gurus confirmed her story! Not only that, but get this - it helps the libido too. Can I say libido without laughing? No. It helps you want to have sex. It actually stimulates your brain with hormone releasing enzymes that say "Hey, wake up down there, get it going, breath, let the blood flow hot and heavy and let's get laid tonight!" That wasn't me talking, mind you, that was the effect that garlic has on one's brain. I don't think you have to have a toothache to take the stuff either - some people cook with it! Oh, that makes sense - there's a lot of little Italians running around aren't there? Wait, Chinese food is packed with GARLIC! Oh, this is actually making a lot more sense as I dig a bit deeper into it, huh?

Countries that use garlic tend to have children in abundance! Wow, who knew? Well, I don't want more children, that's for darn sure, but I wouldn't mind a little loving from time to time - when I'm in love - when and if that happens - now all I have to do is find a natural herb or vegetable to flatten my belly, reduce the size of my breasts, remove the hair in strange places, take off a few moles, lessen the appearance of wrinkles and crow's feet - and maybe a juice or fruit to take care of a spider vein here and there....maybe if I just rub garlic all over my body. It destroys bad breath you know...maybe it can take off the cellulite, restore my youth, and give me a reason to take up Flamenco dancing!

I guess I couldn't date a vampire, but Italians are OK, right?

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!