Big Brown's Wild Night Out

WHAT an amazing horse. No, I didn't take the picture.

So, my friends Brian and Ryan were with me Saturday in Baltimore just a couple of miles from the Preakness when it all went down. We were at the H.H. Backer Pet Trade Show, and we had ourselves one great time Saturday night discussing all the nonsense that goes along with 8,000 people showing up to put on a giant pet show, and the additional 20,000 or so that come by to gawk, stare, buy, and get all excited about what you're making and selling in the pet industry. What I noticed however, was that after the show, while we were standing in line to get our drink tickets for the private soiree, that the talk of the trade show group had turned to more important matters such as the big winner of the Preakness! Whoa! Big Brown won!

OK, so we put our heads together and thought how we could totally capitalize on this event. It had to be something that we could do to make money but not put any money into. It had to be something we could brag about, but not really be responsible for in case it went sour - you know....bad. It hit me. I think it was my idea, I had run out of drink tickets and had to send Ryan out for a couple more. I promise we only drank tiny drinks, it wasn't like we were trying to up one another in drinking. In cases like that I bail pretty fast. My 2-drink limit has been allowed to stretch to a 3-drink limit if steak, potatoes, bread and other carbs are involved, but since this diet thing - I was more than willing to keep the juice level to a minimum.

I thought "Why not breed a pretty brown thoroughbred horse with a pretty brown quarter horse, and call the baby 'Big Brown's Mistake'? Sounds good right? Well, we thought it did. Then Ryan thought 'Big Brown's Wild Night Out' would be even better. I mean sure, we couldn't register the horse in the thoroughbred world, but quarter horses are registered with 1/2 lineage so there's at least an option for us. What could we sell the colt for? $5,000,000 maybe? JUST KIDDING...please, no e-mails, we were just sitting around listening to a great band, watching the girls from the Dog Walking booth behind us sing while standing on chairs. Some of the more laid back booth guards became loose enough to share their pasta with us, and to even share a cigar with Brian and Ryan. (Who I won't easily forgive for not bringing enough for me!) I don't share cigars.

Big Brown's Wild Night Out. Could we incorporate that? Would we get into trouble for the closeness or the recognition of the name? Probably - we'd be featured on CNN as being some of the worst horse-people in the world and then they'd do a stringent background check and find out we're dog people - - but we'd still lose our licenses to travel through Kentucky! I'm pretty sure about that one anyway. Oh well, it was a great ice breaker. It helped Jenny be able to use her new iPhone so she could spend the 11 minutes it took her to look up the results on the internet. After she announced to us that some horse named Curin something won, we were all screaming "NO, we wanted Big Brown!" Then she came back a little later with the true results, having read to us from the older stories about the Preakness, I think it was just last year, but it stopped us dead in our tracks. We weren't going to cry, but we were thinking we could have at least saved ourselves a fortune for having NOT purchased a piece of the 85% of the winner that I believe was sold off before the race.

Stud fees at $50,000,000? Are you serious? Ryan and Brian both agreed they'd do it for much less...much less.

Just An Average Day - Well, For Us

I woke up to the A/C man knocking on the back door around 8:30. I suppose that's not a bad time to get out of bed, but I wasn't exactly expecting anyone - dogs had been let out an hour earlier, so the dream that the man was knocking was somewhat more real to me than the actual event. He got to see me without makeup and half dressed. He didn't die right away, so I guess it's not as bad as I thought it could be.

No A/C for me. Seems the part was great, the unit wonderful, but my wiring sucks. That has to be replaced - maybe it had something to do with the explosion in my kitchen's wall from when I plugged in a car charger through a 110v adapter and watched the fireworks impress my dog. That was Tuesday. This is Friday. Things happen to me.

A/C man said it had nothing to do with it, the A/C, as you may know already, runs on 220v, so there you have it - just another random act for the Stringfellows. He seemed to be thrilled to meet Faith, even changed out my air filter for me, made coffee for the both of us since he had a machine just like it at home, and I talked politics with the man while he further explained to me why I would be without air for another weekend. I suppose it shouldn't matter that much, I'm going to NYC for Mother's Day - I'll suffer well for one full Saturday, and BAM - the Big Apple! For me from me. I do love a good Mother's Day present. I thought maybe a personal DVD would be great, something I could watch my TV seasons on while I worked out, but then the thought of walking to another Starbucks that I haven't been to in Manhattan overtook me completely. I booked the flight.

Most mothers want to be with their brats, Oh I'm sorry - kids on Mother's Day. I would love that too if I had one that actually wanted to be with me. Wait, I do have one, he's in the Army! I think NYC beats out Fairbanks, Alaska - I'll see the boy in August. Laura will be dancing and singing in Tokyo while Caity travels to a city somewhat less exotic - Little Rock, Arkansas to see a boy...a boy, on Mother's Day. Makes me wonder if he has a mom. Oh well, I love NYC. For me from me.

Anyway, the day wore on and my kid got fired - - wait, she just started the job today! What happened? I know what happened, the manager happened. I didn't like the guy the second I saw him staring my daughter up and down. I walked around the store for a few seconds, he didn't know who I was - he certainly didn't know I was the MOM of the girl he was googling over. He wanted my baby girl to wear more revealing clothes at work. OK, I get that, it's a fashion based store, she's hot, she's adorable, and she'd make his clothes look really sexy and someone would want to see themselves in it if they saw Caity Baby wearing it first...but I do draw the line when he wanted to help her. Turns out I didn't have to draw the line. I apparently taught my baby brat to do that for herself...BAM...(I do say BAM a lot don't I?) She got in his face, cussed him up and then down the other side, revealed her middle finger, and told him to ... well, you know what she told him. He had that face, that I'm going to hit you sort of face, and she smiled.

"My mother is an attorney. Go ahead hit me. I need the money!" was her retort. I smiled and waved; not necessarily agreeing that I was an attorney, but he at least understood that he wouldn't be undressing my little one any time soon. Hey, not that Caity hasn't been known to take her clothes off - No, I'm not saying that, but she has to be the one to make the suggestion....it's a Leo thing, I'm sure. I would have been just fine simply declining his offer and walking out the door. God bless the little one.

OK...so I get in the car, taking the brat home, and the phone rings. It's the other one, the one about to take off for Japan. She's going tomorrow, not as soon as she had planned. She's taking a tour bus to Los Angeles to save $700 off the ticket, (just found out 45 minutes ago) and yeah, in order to do that the tour bus driver needs to sleep at her apartment tonight, take a shower, get up early and then drive them both to L.A. picking up a few rock stars along the way - no, I won't reveal who they are, why make you jealous? Let's just say it's another typical change of events and normal working day at the Stringfellows. You simply can't keep a plan in mind for more than a few minutes - something tells me saving the $700 had less to do with actually rebooking the flight to leave out of L.A. and more to do with riding around a couple of days, a few thousand miles, with a group of hot musicians.

19 was fun. I remember 19.

My son called. He got his $600 check from the government. He's planning on using the entire amount to book flights from Fairbanks to Las Vegas, gamble $200 of it, lose that, and hitchhike home. That's his plan. He wants to see if he's safer on the highways of the U.S. than in the Middle East in a tank! Again...you have to admire these brains. I made these brains. I'm forced to remember that I actually contributed to the well being of these three individuals...he'll be fine. I know a few people at American Airlines. I think I have a favor or two left I can pull.

Happy Mother's Day to the rest of you!

Prunes v. Dried Plums

The FDA has decided to call prunes by another name. What's that they say "A rose by any other name still smells the same?" OK. I love prunes, and I guess I love plums too, so I don't mind if the FDA decides to call prunes by their more suitable, more marketable name of "dried plums". I suppose when you get down to it, they are actually dried plums - just like raisins are dried grapes. Can I expect to see that change, or is it still OK to say you like to eat a handful of raisins without people asking if your bowels are OK.

Prunes have a stigma. Go ahead and think it - go ahead and say it out loud if you have to, prunes are what they are - natures way of saying "GO!" For some people prunes are a life saver, and for people like me, who have been stealing prunes from old people for years - prunes are like candy, only you don't have to worry about the weight gaining or the faux high from fake sugars. I am...a prune addict.

I decided to boost the fiber intake again, this time I bought the hard stuff. I'm drinking straight prune juice in the morning and adding my aloe vera juice to it. Eight ounces of prune juice can spell trouble for some people - please, and I mean this, PLEASE don't drink prune juice just because I told you that it works for me, or that I like it - I had a blogger-fan write to me today and just freaked me out to no end. She wrote that she reads my blog every day, can't wait for the next one, that she learns so much, and she's doing everything that I do so she can lose weight and have a happier family life! OH MY GOSH...and since I know you're out there stalking me, and reading me, please, let me say this - DON'T do anything just because someone else does it. (LOL - OK, it's my Mom, but I wasn't going to let on for a while. She's got four kids, but you know, there' just something about the baby!)

Drinking prune juice may sound like I've given up and gotten old, but to be honest with you - it makes me look younger, go to the bathroom when I'm suppose to, it keeps the wrinkles away longer, and I love the fact that NO ONE else will steal it from me. I'll have the entire jug to myself. I could fill the damn thing full of grain alcohol if I wanted to and my teenage kids wouldn't touch it because the bottle says prune juice! Have you ever thought about how you could keep your kids out of your stuff? Put it in the prune juice bottle! NO ONE touches it. EVERYONE shuns from it, and they just set it to the back of the frig so none of their friends have to even know that the butter, or the ripe olives they pop into their mouths have come close enough to mom's prune juice to be forever ruined.

Here's a question that just begs to be asked: Why are they digging through my refrigerator? Don't they have their own? Do they not live away from me? Is it too much to ask that my children stay out of my stuff? YES...it is too much to ask, and I have no business even imagining that I could have such freedom, such peace, such me-time or me-stuff....silly Mom! At least I have my prune juice fantasy - until one or the other of them gets on the internet and finds out the antioxidant benefits, the weight loss benefits, and/or the fact that they get 3 grams of fiber with it - then I'm toast.

Speaking of toast - I found a new loaf of bread by Nature's Own. Double Fiber! 5 grams of fiber per slice! Not per serving of 2 slices my friends, that would be 10. I love it. The thing is, our grandmothers used to make their own bread with whole wheat and the flax and the wheatmeal was in it already. They had double and triple fiber bread coming out of their ovens back in the day. Come to think of it, Granny had a big fat black-purple plum tree in the back yard. I ate dozens of them over the weekends when I visited. It was her prunes I'd steal too. She lived to be 99 - but her secret was that she was privileged enough to live with Grandpa for 69 of those years...he was such a cutie. I miss my old man.

Well, there you go - eat more plums when they're fat, and more prunes when they're all dried up. Go and go and go....and then thank me.

Cram the Grams

(awesome shot, but I didn't take it)

OK, if you're remotely interested in losing weight, clearing out the poo-tracks, or just beginning to feel free to move about again - this blog's for you. I even added a little photo at the top to explain exactly what flax looks like. You have to have them. If you want to do the toilet dance, and you want to slip on the old jeans again, you have to cram the grams in first. Fiber. It's what's for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and every snack you'll be eating for the next several months. Get into it.

Flax is grown obviously, and you probably don't have a crop in your backyard, so just go to GNC or your local Akins and pick up a canister of ground flax. It comes in oil too, but for the purpose of poo and the realization that every gram counts, get the canister and start pouring it out. I literally fell into this secret through a friend who has decided to diet with me. She's in California, doesn't really even need to lose the weight, but like a great buddy (we've never met in person, but have been really close through the web) she's into the healthy thing too. She just wanted to see me lose it! Weight that is. She wanted to see me lose the weight. She suggested, almost off-the-cuff, that I add flax seed to everything. I do, and I have, and it's done. I'm losing 3 pounds a week now. Before I was averaging 2.1 or 2.2 pounds a week. The flax seed is making a difference.

I eat a bowl of FiberOne cereal in the morning - it has 13 grams of fiber per serving so I eat a little more than one serving. I get around 16 grams of fiber from the FiberOne and then I add 3 more with the flax seed. Bam! After breakfast when I'm getting hungry for something before I eat lunch I do the yogurt thing, only 1 gram of fiber in it due to the fruit, so I throw in another 3 with the flax seed - again, BAM! I keep doing this all day long. If I make pasta I take a carb blocker, add oregano and flax seed (I even cook with flax seed oil or avocado oil) and I have another snack after dinner - maybe applesauce and you guessed it - flax seed! It's not bad and it works all day and all night to rid me of the extra .8 pounds a week. I don't mind that. No really, I look forward to that scale now - it's going to be saying something lower and lower almost every other day!

I make it a game now. How many glasses of water/tea can I drink without considering myself subterranean? How many tablespoons of flax seed will it take before it actually starts to look as if I've taken anything out of the canister? I bought this thing 2 weeks ago and it looks like it's the same amount - bottomless. I'll wake up in 2010 and say "I guess I have to buy more flax seed." It's really cheap too. Kind of like when I bought the Biotin for my hair - 100 tablets were $1.00 I couldn't believe that. I thought to myself "Why haven't I been doing this for 20 years?" Probably because no one told me to - or rather suggested that I did.

Aside from all the flax seed and the oils for being more apt to "go" on a twice daily basis, there is something else that is really awesome, most excellent for us all, and here it is - your ticket to a better colon, your way out of cancer (see your doctor), and YOUR answer to nearly every ailment you have had inside your body (see your doctor) Aloe Vera Juice. AVJ. You mix it with OJ, grapefruit juice, prune juice, and/or anything else with a good flavor. It's a bit like drinking the water out of an inflated beach ball - not the best taste, but you can mask it. The AVJ literally heals everything it reaches and since it's going from the top to the bottom on its little course of coursing - you'll be doing yourself one hell of a favor! Think about the benefits of aloe on your skin, how it heals burns and irritations. Now, go inside - all the little pockets, pulls, tears, and abrasions you have because of acid and erosion - these can be healed. BUT..and I mean this, ask your doctor! I asked mine, and that's why I can talk about it for what it's done for me. I'm literally no longer having acid reflux - not even one time since I've started drinking AVJ on a daily. Maybe 3-4 ounces a day, not a big deal.

So, there you have it - another pound, another smile! On with the mission Missy! 29 to go.

Anthrax!

(Official I-Was-There Picture taken by Matthew Clark)

It's how our U.S. Army tells our boys and girls that they are truly loved! Shoot their veins full of fun and fury. Adaptation is everything, and being immune to Anthrax seems to be the going thing when preparing a soldier to go "Over There". Every time I tell someone that my son is in the Army they ask "Is he over there?" I've decided to answer them with "He's in my heart, and anywhere else he's suppose to be." I'm told I'm not really suppose to say when he's OVER THERE due to security issues. I mean, it's not a secret that we have men and women in Iraq, but I suppose specifically I'm not suppose to say WHO exactly is there.

Here's my thought on the secrecy of it all. You know those peel off name tags that attach to a soldier's uniform? Well, if you're in Baghdad, and you stand back a few feet and to see that one of the soldiers standing in front of you has a last name so long that they used two bars to fit it in, chances are STRINGFELLLOW is Over There! I suppose they could all wear tags that say "Clark" or "Davis" that would be confusing to the world - they could tattoo the bottom of their feet with their real names because they're suppose to keep that part of their bodies covered at all times. I think they could even use Sharpee (like Caity does for eye-liner) and write their name, rank, and serial number (do they have serial numbers now?) on the inside of their helmets - there's no secret about it, if they're there, they're there.

This morning when my son called to tell me he had just been pumped up with a good sized dose of Anthrax he didn't seem too concerned about it. He mentioned it in passing, and then went straight into the reasons why he thinks he'll try out for Division One football here in Oklahoma as soon as he returns, but if he doesn't get it straight up he'll try out for an Arena Football League (Oklahoma Yard Dogs) while attending college - he's still rocking back and forth on joining the guard immediately, something about growing his hair out to his shoulders for a couple of years before he commits to it, but doesn't want to lose any rank or seniority. Oh, the chooses he's forced to make....while Anthrax courses through his veins!

Somewhat less threatening than football injuries that may occur, he placed the possibility of actually dying from the venom he had just received. Here's how it went from my point of view:

Reuben: Oh, if I die from this you get like $400,000.00 but you have to give the girls something like $50,000 each so they can at least get through college, is that cool?

Mom: Shut up.

Reuben: I'm just sayin', I die you're covered. Oh, and don't forget the funeral stuff because I thought about that just when the medic pushed the thing, I'm like "Oh wow, I have my funeral planned out and it could be happening this week".

Mom: Shut up.

Reuben: Anyway, I'm trying out for the Arena Football League when I get back, but I'll give OU a shot at it too, I'm not that big, but I could be a safety. Yeah, I could be a damn good safety. Do they even have a weak spot? Probably not, if I went for the Yard Dogs I'd be like this Whack Lineman slash (/) Safety guy. He's not that big, I'm not that big, but hell I could grow out my hair and be like really awesome.

Mom: Would you still be a Guard when you come back?

Reuben: I don't know if I'm big enough, the line's pretty big at OU and probably in the Arena league too - I'm only 5'11" now remember? I lost my height when I joined the Army.

Mom: Shut up. I meant the National Guard.

Reuben: They don't really have a team Mom. If you're going to play for the Army you have to go to West Pointe.

Mom: Ditz.

Reuben: (Laughing at me) Love ya Mom, gotta go. We're running 12 miles today to see if we keel over or not.

Thank you U.S. Army - You haven't taken his humor, even if he dies he'll have that damn smile.

It's Official - Not Going to Turkey

Well, and this is sad, we're not going to be going to Turkey to do their television show even though we really wanted to go. We tried and tried to make the adequate arrangements to be able to make it earlier in the month of April but the station on the other end was unable to book flights allowing Faith to be in the cabin. They were adamant about her flying in the cargo, and my agent (because he's a really cool man with the best intentions for Faith and myself) allowed Faith to be booked in cargo so we could (a) meet our contract, (b) satisfy the fans in Turkey, and (c) be the bigger person and not make a mountain out of a semi-higher-than-technically considered a mole-hill, after all Faith flies First Class with American, not in the cargo of another carrier.

We tried. We pushed the deadlines back for the crew to come up with the arrangements. We pushed the deadlines back to allow them to sign contracts. We pushed the deadlines back because they suddenly realized they were able to put Faith in the cabin after all - meaning after we told them NO MORE DEADLINES. After pulling in our fantastic American Airlines expert and representative Lisa to help us finally get the bookings we needed - the station still wanted more from us. They wanted a certificate proving Faith was a celebrity. OK - NO. They said it was a customs issue, but when we called Customs in America and in Turkey they didn't say a word about it.

They booked us through France so that Faith could take a pee-potty break, and we thanked them. This isn't as simple as you may think. When you take a dog overseas you have to run rabies titer tests, blood work, all vacs have to be up to date, they have to have USDA certificates for EACH country, bilingual statements saying that she is in good health - and that an American vet is on the line for the tests being conclusive. We did our part. I obtained the letter from the vet to take to the USDA, and each certificate is $24.00 JUST so she can take a pee-potty break at the airport in France! That's a bit excessive, but we were willing to accommodate since we were asking them to place Faith in the cabin. We obliged. (with smiles on our faces I might add. Thank you to Dr. Logan at the Neel Veterinarian Hospital in OKC)

Once we were able to get all the letters we needed, the tests ran, the blood work completed, and every other hoop we needed to jump through - the station bringing us out were then unable to secure a hotel for us that took dogs. You may or may not be aware of this fact, but dogs aren't exactly welcome in some places of the world - Turkey has never been a place where dogs were revered or respected as they are in America, but you'd think the station could find us a hotel that would be willing to take our puppy since .... I don't know, that was the reason we were coming out! She is the reason we were invited to the country! (I'm just sayin')

We waited several times, and we pushed the deadlines back over and over, but it became apparent as the summer schedule was approaching that we would have one last shot at this. I even had to allow my daughter Laura to go in my place since they had moved us from First Class seating to economy, and I can't sit that long in a smaller seat due to my legs being funky - sorry, I'm like that. It's not RLS, but its related. I would have been a mess - but I got Laura her passport, and she had all of her rabies shots too - just in case. She's more apt to bite than Faith anyway. In the end they were simply unable to get the flights, the hotel, and/or the contracts signed so that it could be sealed and professionally delivered.

At one point - and I just found this out today - they wrote my agent to say I was being difficult to work with. I ask you - really? You think someone whose been bending over backwards to help over and over and over again can become difficult if you can't get your act together? OK, I'll give them that, but it's not true. A difficult trainer, handler, performer, act, or celebrity would have said no the first time they breached, but we went over and over the limits, we smiled, we rescheduled our lives...but finally I had to put my foot down. If that makes me difficult than OK...I'm difficult, but I won't subject my daughter or my dog to be placed in a situation overseas where Customs may or may not allow them access back onto the plane if Faith exits to pee without a certificate stating she's a celebrity and has the right to be in the cabin. AMERICA has no problem with it.

No, I'm not difficult - I'm more flexible than the average Joe or Josephine. I'm actually very giving, very calm, very accommodating, but I do have my limits. I'm sorry we can't make it to Turkey, but that's not to say they can't come here to do the filming and then take it back to their studio for a video - maybe even a live feed. This is 2008! I'm satisfied knowing we tried. I'm satisfied knowing we worked on it over and over again trying to make it work.

Enough is enough. I look forward to doing the shoot here in the U.S. (OKC preferred so I can show off the great vet hospital and staff that helped us so much!)

Pyrate Nyte!

(Jack Rickam's Flag)

The conditions were right! Last week the water main was broken outside of our units. I live in a HOA of sorts, and the water is a shared source. Broken and only repairable for a few hours at a time by using a city by-pass, we were without water for most of the week - save an hour here, an hour there, and naturally the hours were set up to accommodate those who were working during the day. I was asked to be inconvenienced as I don't really have a job. Authors just play all day, you know that.

Next in line for the inconvenience mill was the air conditioner. It broke when I turned it on. First day of necessity, and I suppose it just wasn't up to its old self. Old being the optimal word - ancient is even a better description. The AC guy told me he's never replaced that particular part in the 12 years he's worked for TRANE, so there you go - he ended up ordering me a new unit. Thank you! Of course, it was on back order and the HOA had to approve it, and all that - so there you go, this was day 13 without AC. I'm OK, I was born a Sooner! I can handle the heat. I can handle the snow, the tornado, the wind, the rain - throw it at me. Just don't let people drive in it - we're not known for our maneuverability - not like Texas!

OK...third's the charm. The electricity man came by yesterday and cut me off. I asked him to stay for a second so I could bring out my receipt, it was paid for online, but he wasn't really interested. I missed him by a few seconds, he simply drove away. My phone is connected to my cable, which is powered by electricity, and my cell was about out of juice - again, powered by electicity - but I have the car! I ended up powering up my cell from the car battery, and driving myself to the store to get a few more candles after the electric company told me they hadn't downloaded their page where I had recently paid -something about being backlogged with work. Thank you. I was cut off - and it would be another 20 hours before I could see the light to day again...well, technically it was already the light of day, it was just before noon. I had light, but was told it was going away at around 8:30 that evening. I was also assured that it would return - at least God's light, and then we'd have to work on the other people.

With 12 new candles (thanks to Glade) I had to come up with a fresh idea of what to do without my tv, my internet, my cable, my phone, my stereo, my lights, and my food - anything in the frig would be taken to my girls' house so it wouldn't spoil, which means it would also be eaten by the various pack of boys that go in and out of those doors 24/7. I decided fast too, didn't take much of a twisting. Pyrate Nyte!

Call the girls over, not my girls, they're too young - the old ones. Call them all, get the tequila, get the wine, get the flag out. Yes, I do have a flag and I do fly it on these occasions...when it's Pyrate Nyte it's a no-penis night. Men need not attempt to break barriers - not without fear of being kidnapped, not without fear of being forced to do every bidding, every order, every chore - - imaginable. We don't wear much at these parties either, especially when the AC is off and it's too dark for the lookers on to really see much. Depending on how many older women could gather into one house - that man could be risking more than just his life should he dare to try to sneak past us for a taste of the brew so pleasingly placed on the table, waiting to be consumed.

When the cigars come out the gun powder tea is also rolled and smoked. I had forgotten about the pole in my backyard on the patio - one of my mates found it appealing, thought she'd try out a new step. She wanted to see if she could hang upside down from her thighs while smoking - she can. We're all practicing now and will be able to put forth a right good contest for the next event - probably not too far off, these things only need a little coaxing to be encouraged. Women actually find the company of women to be uplifting, in this case swingingly uplifting! When the dancing was over the stories began - she who lies best wins.

Before the close of the evening we were listening to Dwight Yokam a bit louder than the neighbors would have ordinarily approved, except the neighbors were in company as well. Dwight has a way about him - his manners please a few tipsy women holding limes in one hand and cigars in the other. We like Dwight... a lot. Our bellies full of cheese and crackers, beer, wine, tequila, and smoke - we agreed full heartedly that it was time to say our last lies, and bid the night sweet dreams. Some poor villains had to get up in just a few hours to plug in cables, pull wires, work on engines, and yes - because women are good at it, some of these poor wretches had to give orders to others and they wanted to be on their best behavior. Hard to do with the skull and crossbones staring back at you in your blurred memories...time to call the boys.

Men came to take their women away - never sail a ship with a smile plastered on your face. Let someone else do that. It's important to be in one piece so that the season's opening is not the last Nyte to be had....welcome good weather, welcome inconvenience - we know how to handle you! Hoist the colors. Grin and ... bare it.

I Can't Run for President

Try as I may, I just wouldn't make a good presidential candidate. I don't have what it takes. I don't have a lot of money to throw around and if I did I would be putting it into charities such as Operation Iraqi Children, Feed the Children, and Compassion. I don't have any real dirt to share - OK, I filed bankruptcy because I broke my neck in '92. I had a kid out of wedlock, and I've been fired from probably 105 jobs...106, I don't know, a few. I don't have a nasty preacher who says stupid or idiotic things from his pulpit because I'm not really a member of any church. I do attend one. I suppose they could camp outside my pastor's office and see if he makes outlandish statements about one race being better than another, but he'd probably be referring to a summer outing where a three-legged race took place behind the bean-bag toss. My pastor just doesn't make a splash that often, if ever.

I couldn't be the next president because I'd have to admit to being over 35, and where that benefits me because my son is 22, I still have a bit of an issue with the fact that if I were caught kissing a man half my age he would still older than my son. Yes, that bothers me. I couldn't actually be caught kissing any man because I don't kiss very often, and that fact would probably keep me out of the White House. Nothing to report, nothing to talk about, nothing to dig up, nothing to exploit. Face it, I would be a very boring candidate.

My politics would also keep me off the stage. I'd want to open up the forum to allow educated people in various walks of life from various economic backgrounds to give me their input and ideas on what to do to lower the deficit. I'd actually consider lowering it - it means something to me to pay my debts. I hate that I have to, I'm human in that respect, but I'd want to put forth an effort to become a more self-contained government - my exterior spending would be lessened, oil would be drilled in Alaska, and alternative means of fuel would be pursued. I'd have border negotiations with Canada and Mexico, I'd offer better salaries to everyone through real programs designed on the barter system where one company paid another company for helping another company which benefited their own company. This round-robin means of paying employees could also result in larger groups for insurance purposes, making it less expensive for the overall man/woman to afford insurance - oh, and there I'd be in the middle of a speech about insurance and have actual knowledge of it. What kind of candidate would that make me?

I don't know. Maybe if I ran for president I could at least meet Fred Thompson. I like him. He's pretty cool. I could go on sets in Hollywood pretending I wanted support from the actors and directors - just so I could get a good word in about the writers needing more money since promoting the real talent in Hollywood (writers) wouldn't be accepted if I just blogged about it. (Tell me again why an actor gets $30,000,000 for a movie he/she didn't write, direct, produce or distribute.) I could run for president if I found a good running mate - that would be the only way I'd win. No one wants an honest, upfront, troop supporting, educated, romantic, dogmatic, Christian-minded, spiritualist who feels that ethics should be a platform. Who the hell could stand on ethics and get anywhere in politics? Please. I'd need a VP worth his or her weight in controversy...I'd still have to run on the Indy ticket; maybe I'd pick Donald Trump to be my VP. If we got into trouble he could write a check.

Oh, you know I'm kidding. I wouldn't run for government - I wouldn't work on Saturdays in the fall. Football! Even the greatest leader in the world would have to set priorities!

Bring Out the Dogs!

(Not my photo or my dogs)


I was driving down I-35 the other day (as one often does in Oklahoma) and saw a very uncommon site: three police officers in marked vehicles (Highway Patrol actually) had stopped 3 separate trucks, one of which was a very large trailer without windows. The trucks were all very well kept, quite new, and stunning actually - very pretty. Outside of the trailer were two (2) K9 units both German Shepherds, both frantically hitting and barking at the trailer. Now, I'm no expert, but I don't think the dogs found Kibbles n' Bits!

Maybe it's just me, but I watch an extraordinary amount of cop shows. I'm so forensically educated that I could probably give a seminar while wearing a white coat so that the real geeks could take a well deserved break. My knowledge of drug sniffing dogs doesn't end with what I see on on CSI, no, I have a drug sniffing dog and I didn't even ask for her. We were flying back from Vegas when Faith (my little yellow mutt) decided to notice the guy behind us - closely. She began whining and sniffing at his cargo-pants pocket and he became a little nervous. Because we were about to land in Dallas I gave him a little warning. "Hey, I don't know about Texas laws and marijuana, but I can tell you that if my untrained dog can spot it, their experts can. Dallas security walks around with K9 patrol." He understood. He smiled, and to be honest I was a bit embarrassed about Faith's new habit.

It's always dogs isn't it? I mean, you never EVER see the Five-0 bringing out cats on leashes to find anyone or any substance. Cats aren't good at that sort of thing. Cats couldn't care less whether they pleased their owners...they don't work per se. Cats don't listen to anyone, and they certainly don't dain to lift a finger to secure their surroundings - that's YOUR job if you own a cat. Can you own a cat? Dogs are the worker bees - they sniff, they paw, they bark, they hunt, they chase, they secure. That's what I saw, I saw working, securing, barking, sniffing K9s doing what they do - no cats allowed.

When Matrix and I watch TV together and we see a cop open up the back door of his black and white to allow his K9 partner to join in on the fun Matrix always reminds me that the human has to cater to the dog. It's not the other way around. Never do you see the dog opening the door for the human - no sir, and it's the dog who has to come around and clean up what the human couldn't do - dogs are cool like that. Can you put yourself in the position of a cat owner at this point, coming to the realization that your fuzzy little monster is actually quite worthless in some situations? Brings a tear. Test my theory! Put a cat on a leash, take it out to the docks to sniff around - see where that gets you!

Bring out the dogs!

Someone May Shoot Me, But I Won't Die From Heart Attack

I wanted to test the theory that I wasn't readily losing the poundage as quickly as others do because my heart rate just doesn't get up there. It makes sense - physically speaking, that one must actually pump the heart and keep it going for at least 20-30 minutes a day in order to see the results they anticipate and/or desire in terms of weight loss. I'm just not a heavy beater. Try as I may, I can only attain an elevated heart rate of around 140 and I can only hold it for so long. Now, keep me around the 123-130 mark and I'm sweating like a pig - normal people stuff, but I just can't seem to break the high-profile exercise momentum that some say is needed to really get the fat off. No two workouts should be the same.

I decided to really spice things up. I downloaded a couple of hot videos from YouTube (and get this, I had to sign up saying I was over 18 before I could actually watch the Karma Sutra. My kid bought me the book when she was 14 because I was too giggly to pick it up from the shelf at Borders and pay for it!) I agreed, and yes I used a fake name because I'm silly like that. I said I was Caity!

I'm working out, I'm at the 123-130 range and I take a second to push the play button on the computer. There they are - experimenting and making all the appropriate noises associated with informational, educational, and instructural position training; that is what people use these videos for isn't it? I checked my heart rate...129. I watched another, and another. I can honestly say that without changing the pace of which I rode the bike, because that wouldn't be fair - I never hit any number higher than 132 tops...until.

Yes, I got really smart and decided to make the heart go back and forth. Back and forth is good when you're weight training, interval training, strength training, eating, anything - make it different, keep the body jumping and wondering what's going on. I drink hot tea and follow that with ice cold water to make my metabolism work harder. Hey, it burns 70 calories a day just trying to keep up with my mind.

Mind is a great tool too. I believe in mind. I believe that our (my) thoughts control our (my) experiences, and I know that when I'm working out I'm thinking about working out, so I have to stop that - get into a great trance of an awareness other than weight loss because the more energy I submit to creating actual weight loss vibrations the more I will bring about the NEED for weight loss - are you following? It's the Law of Attraction. What you think - you create. It could be beneficial or not, but it is what it is. If you think about weight you'll get it. I try harder to think about joy, happiness, peace, and fulfillment - not security. If you think about needing security you'll be insecure....Laws are laws.

So, video number 4 did it for me. I found a few (OK hundreds) of still shots of a particular green eyed, turtle-smiling man from the greater Chicago area and BAM...141, 142, 142, 144...you get the picture. My problems are all but solved. I threw in a few photos of my kids, my dogs, ravioli, bread sticks, pictures from the zoo to bring the beater back to around 110-120, and then momentarily back to the naked man standing in the snowy river with just his socks and maybe boots, I never really paid that much attention to "Mother" Wilkins attire....Midnight Clear; good film.

Needless to say, this method may not work for everyone trying to pull that last 25-30 pounds, but for me it's a keeper. There will be a few more dishes of beans and rice, a few more stems of broccoli - and a lot more mind-games. I might add it burns more calories when you smile too.

I'm a visual learner - whatever works.