Road Kill

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Our Army eats well. Way up in the land of the Midnight Sun, where days melt into night, and nights melt into the brains and eventually the sick twisted mind of the boy I often call my own - humor happens.

I'm not sure if he's watched too many shows on Adult Swim, or if he's auditioning for a future position, but this is the picture I got from my son when I asked him what he was doing now that the snow is melting on the ground and the sun is warming up the kiddie pools on base. (If you didn't already know, the boys in green purchased every last kiddie pool from their local Wal-Mart last year when they went on sale, and yes, Fairbank's Ft. Wainwright is home to more than 40 8' round blow up pools. Your Army, my Army, relaxes in complete style.) Photos soon, I promise.

(This could have happened) While driving his tank-type vehicle around town to get the kinks out of the gears, Baby boy ran across this irresistible photo opp. You shouldn't be surprised to find out that my son carries action figures with him in his tank, I've already told you that I swim and bathe with rubber ducks, a little red car, and a whale/shark thing. My son's not that far off from me - well, he is, but he can't be blamed, his father played with Tinker Toys...old school. With the wit and the speed he's been blessed with, the boy climbed out of his tank-thing and set up this shot! I'm assuming the two soldiers are friends; probably Reuben and his buddy Matt Clark, another PFC at Wainwright, who, if you asked him officially, would deny playing Army-Guys with my son, but you and I both know they love every minute of it. (OK, he didn't really take that photo)

"SQUIRREL! We're having squirrel for dinner! Woot Woot!"
(Son, please don't admit you're from Oklahoma, please! Don't do that to me. If you do, show off those teeth. I don't want anyone making the association for a tattoo to tooth ratio having anything to do with this photo. I know you're always looking for the next Pulitzer!) You can just about hear the excitement busting out of their little plastic throats of these two very differently dressed soldiers. I think one is from the Viet Nam era, while the other is a Desert Storm Trooper - it doesn't matter, Army men are all on the same team. I think they even let the official G.I.Joe command them since he has so much more seniority - albeit at this time he's quite a bit shorter than these men. At least Barbie and the Mary Kate & Ashley dolls have someone to dance with at the ball now - maybe one of them knows how to skin, clean, and cook the squirrel - is there a Kitchen Barbie at Toys R Us? Maybe Ken will loan the boys a few summer-time outfits for the party where this squirrel's going to be celebrated! It's gonna be big! Gotta be big!

The Davenport Hotel - Spokane,Washington

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These photos are courtesy of the Davenport Hotel. (www.thedavenporthotel.com)

I took pictures, please, believe me when I say I have a lot of pictures of the Davenport, all the rooms, all the people,all the glorious glory that makes this hotel so spectacular! I just don't have them uploaded yet, but I'm sure they won't mind me using these stock photos and you can book yourself a room and get the ultimate pleasure in hotel staying just like Faith and I have been subjected, forced, and made to enjoy over the past weekend and really for five wonderful days.

I hadn't heard of the Davenport because I'm from Oklahoma (that sounds bad) but since I have been here I have heard nothing but how great this place is. When people find out where Faith and I are staying they ask ME questions about a hotel they've never had the nerve to walk into, and they're FROM Spokane. I tell them, the fireplace in the lobby is actually called the living room or the meeting room of Spokane, go in, take a look - bring a camera! The rooms are massive of course, everything was massive in the early part of the 20th Century as far as luxury hotels are concerned. This one could be right up there with any AmWay or Four Seasons in terms of greatness, the service is simply unbeatable, and you know what - I like Spokane now! I never knew I liked Spokane, but I love this place. I could stay here and lounge in the hot tub eating their soft peanut brittle all night. Oh wait...I did that!

I was lucky enough to have a room with the best view and the best shower...but I didn't want a huge marble shower, I wanted a bath tub!! No problem. The hotel concierge moved me. Just like that. I was just teasing about the fact that I couldn't lay around in the tub, drinking champagne, and calling my agent at all hours of the night - it was a joke - but they accommodate at this place. I was almost afraid (hopeful) that someone would come in and actually bathe me. (can I pick who? LOL)

The lobby of course is beautiful, but the halls and the rooms off to the sides where ballroom dancing used to take place, weddings, meetings, oh - just everything is here. There is a grand hall that goes in a square and it has gilded framed photos of the years gone past with the various rooms and the ancestry of the great City of Spokane. People come in and point to someone in a picture and say "That's Mrs. Sprawl when she was 11. When she turned 80 she had her birthday in the same room." That's how great this place is. Brunch was fun for over 200 guests and visitors as Faith walked around greeting everyone and then everyone had to greet her back. I tell people MONEY is not the dirtiest thing in the world, no, my dog's back is! She's petted by everyone and they love her, and she loves them. She's still a little leery of men out of uniform, but there was ONE there! Yes, Sgt. Major Reynolds of Benning! Thanks for loving my dog. (You didn't have to salute, that was kind of you.)

So, I'm going back upstairs to the big, big, big, bed that I can barely climb into. I'm getting under the mounds of comforters and just reading a few things before I allow, yes allow, the staff to come in and draw my bath - I only say that because they were laughing about who got to do it for FAITH..not for me, but that's OK, I'll keep hanging out with her if it means I get this sort of treatment.

THANK YOU to the staff and service personnel at the Davenport, seriously, this has been the best stay ever! (Just a tad more champagne, thank you love, I appreciate it.) You know, warm sheets, big white robes, fluffy pillows and doorbell service, the only thing missing in this fantasy is the bass player from oh, I don't know, some cover band I'm familiar with. That would be perfection! *grins*

God Said So - I Guess That's Why I Feel This Way

(Love this one)

I'm going to start a new blog called "Opinions: Mine" because I don't want my opinions to be confused with the way I see life - I see life from an angle not always appreciated by the masses, and by masses I don't mean Catholics. I happen to be a Christian without a denomination, but I attend a Baptist church. I'm not a member of any church - didn't McCain summarize his faith somewhat similar? Well, I'm not sure I would agree with everything the man says, but I know this much: I don't think Google can satisfy every search, sometimes you just have to take it to the top!

So, from the point of view that this author (the marquis) takes, you can't find everything you look for online. I have to agree - however, I was SHOCKED that some of my more ultimately "I-Wouldn't-Dare-Ask-Anyone-Out-Loud" questions, I have found that someone has already posted the same or similar questions at Google or Ask. I'm really surprised at what some people can creatively come up with in terms of asking blunt off the wall questions and then I'm equally shocked and amazed that there are answers to the questions - often presented by medical practitioners who aren't charging for their expertise. They figure is someone is bold enough to ask (probably using a fake moniker) than they can surely answer. Wow, the things you can learn online - but again, you can't get every answer from Google.

I did however ask a poignant question - one that most may wonder but never have the nerve to ask. I Googled "Can God tell a lie?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to see what the others thought, and yes, I did actually learn something in the process. I'm a rather black and white type person. It is or it isn't. I'm rather Yoda-ish in my way of thinking. "Do or do not, there is no try" is something I tell my kids all the time. For years they thought I was really smart - then they watched Star Wars and my gig was up. So, can God Himself tell a lie? I would have instantly said "NO! Of course not." But the answer is yes. Yes, God CAN lie should He choose to, but it is not in His nature, it is not committed, it has not been committed, and much like the free will He gave to us, He is subjected to that very same principle - His own design. He could lie if He wanted to - but He won't lie. That should take a little pressure off any of you who thought I was going to pull out a lie that God told and see if you could argue with me on point.

I gave up debate in High School. I wasn't wanting to be a lawyer any longer than it took to become a judge. Five years in the state of Oklahoma. I would have been able to complete my degree in 2001, go to law school from 2002-2005, and I would have become a real live attorney in 2005, making 2010 my year to run for the bench. That dream was shattered - but from it another emerged - writing. I guess my point is this: search and ask, seek and learn, but don't always believe until you have made the clear analysis yourself. Follow the evidence - good advise.

Google when you can, go to God for the final answers - trust your heart. You've heard it before, you have to stand for something or you'll fall for anything - well, that goes for putting your hope and/or your trust, faith, whatever you want to call it in something other than yourself. Google is good. You can learn a lot. But there are just some things you can't get from the masses - or the Catholics. (OK, that was uncalled for, but my good friends who know me know I'm smiling. Hi Christina!) :) See, what you don't know is that my church, Metropolitan Baptist Church, is located directly across the street from Ephiphany Catholic Church in Oklahoma City. When the masses exodus from both churches we're constantly laughing at one another to see who will be the more polite church member to let the others go ahead of them in the street which becomes a parking lot around 11:45 every Sunday. So, if you're offended by my Catholic statement - don't be, I love you even though I don't know you.

This Memorial Day - I Give You PERFECTION

OK, OK...so I'm biased, and I'm opinionated....he's perfect to me.

As another year goes by and I've had time to think about what my son really means to me, I am blessed and overwhelmed by the joyful and often shocking pictures my son sends to me. He wants to memorialize his duty time in the best possible why he can. He wants to remember the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, and well - the crazy out-of-this-world whacked out times as well. You try sitting in the barracks for days on end with negative 50 degrees below zero! Sooner or later someone is going to suggest a sledding adventure, gun or no guns, there's going to be a party in the snow!

Last Fourth of July, when the troops were up more than 24 hours because they had leave but the sun never went down, Reuben and his buddies were buying firecrackers just after midnight and somewhere around the 4:00 a.m. point one or the other of the soldiers noticed that the morning bugler was getting out of bed and getting dressed. What a concept, they realized the 5th was upon them and they were about to P.T. after blowing up toys with black cats and cheery bombs....boys are boys are boys are boys.

Sometime around Labor Day my son broken another ankle, then a wrist after that, and just after Christmas, after he had left my house in November, he put a knife through his hand. He called me to let me know he was OK - how do you do that? How do you put a knife through your hand and have the wherewithal to call your mom who wasn't worried (but now she is) and you tell her you're driving yourself to the hospital to have the knife removed. It wasn't his first trip to the E.R. They called him by his name - again. At least he had clean underwear on I'm told, but why would he need to show them off if he was just getting his hand stitched? I try not to ask.

I guess what I'm getting at is that somewhere between the fun, the games, the physical therapy, the rucking and the Meals-Ready-to-Eat recipes my son learned how to drive, navigate, rotate and maneuver more than 5 tank type vehicles. He can read radar screens, give a life-saving tracheotomy if necessary, he can shoot the proverbial fly off the rock over a mile away - of course the rock won't fare well either with the cannon he's using, but he can certainly hone in on the fly if need be. Somewhere in between the mountain climbing, sledding, snowball fights, and required field training my son learned to be what he always knew he would be - a United States Army soldier.

When I was pregnant with Reuben and knew he would be a boy I knew that he would join. I fought it of course, I used to come up behind him in school when the recruiters were looking at him and I'd push him away - move along son, move along. I remember a face-to-face confrontation with a particularly brazen recruiter who just wouldn't stop dogging my son. "He's not joining! Leave him alone", I remember telling the man - and when my son turned me around, took me by the shoulders and said "Mom, I am joining, and I'm joining to protect you and my sisters from everything out there that you need to be protected from." It hit me. I wasn't looking down at a little boy, I was looking up at a man.

Letting go was the hardest thing I had to do - and I do wait and count the days that my Baby Boy has to be away, but in the deepest part of my heart I know he is doing exactly what he is suppose to do, he is doing exactly what he wants to do, and he's doing it his way for the most part. Having played football for 11 years helped my son to take orders. Calling his Commanding Officers "Coach" sometimes gets him into trouble, but you get the picture. That face, that heart, that smile...this Memorial Day I give you: Perfection!

To my darling Baby Boy, Private First Class Reuben Stringfellow - Thank you. I love you.

SUCKER - is spelled J-U-D-E

This is Italia! She was born March 17, 2008 - A very good day to be born, yes?

I really am a sucker for cute little fuzzy things. I usually own a few and they get taken away from me by one or the other of my children, and this is exactly what happened to me and why now, I have Italia rather than Monet, the calico kitten I actually picked out from the no-kill yesterday.

I was visiting the no-kill with my daughter ONLY because Caity was called by the vet earlier in the day with information about a little Siamese kitten that was up for adoption. We went to pick up the little monster, but found it to be wormy and unadoptable. We told the vet we wouldn't mind waiting, but the look in her eyes told me there would be no adopting this particular kitten. Apparently there were more things wrong with it, and the diagnosis of "wormy" was just a nice way to not let on to Caity that the baby kitty would be crossing the Rainbow Bridge later in the day.

However, because we had our hearts set on adopting a little one, we visited (with the vet's recommendation) a wonderful no-kill foster family and found an absolutely adorable blue-eyed solid black male kitten with the fluffiest of fur. He was just so heart-stoppingly gorgeous that Caity was taken immediately. Of course we gave our donation as we were leaving and wouldn't you know it - another cat decided to catch a ride out the door and into the world of living with fewer cats. She is a gentle, but firm-holding calico which I found unable to resist. I found her unable to resist because she had literally crawled up my body and onto my shoulder with a look of sheer determination; she was NOT staying in the shelter another minute. Not when there was a perfectly good family that could take her to a forever-home.

I did that! I took Monet (because she is painted. I wanted to give her a unique and qualifying name) with me, with Caity, and with Gideon her new black baby kitten. We drove home. I spent the next hour or so gathering all the necessary things you need to buy and all the necessary things you need to do to your house when you bring home a kitty. Gideon would of course live with Caity, and Monet was to live with me. Monet decided otherwise. She didn't want to leave Caity's house once I deposited her there, and she didn't want to venture further from the company of Gideon, who we now believe she was following - it had nothing to do with me in the first place. She was and is Gideon's best friend apparently.

This morning when I woke up I had thought about the possibilities of housing a cat of my own - the thought left my head quickly enough, but I couldn't quite shake it. I knew it was really ridiculous to go out and pick up another cat from the no-kill, they have a 2 cat limit so you over-do it, and for that I'm thankful. I could just sit back and relax and if I needed to I could go visit Caity's babies...but I couldn't get over my feelings. I couldn't stop thinking that I too deserved a little kitty-loving as well as the doggie-loving that I get on a daily. Besides, I give cat owners such a bad time, and I say some terrible things about cats, it was the least I could do to actually show the world that I don't REALLY think all cats are from Hell, I just say that - and sometimes mean it somewhat, but no where near all the time, and I don't think EVERY cat is worthless, just....well, other people's cats.

So, I did what I do best. I used the internet and found a mess of little fuzzies for sale ($5.00 each to cover the ad in the paper and online) and I went by the house to see the cats, to just you know - observe them. There was one left. There was ONLY one left, and you know what that means: someone else could come by and get him if I didn't take him - her home with me right then! Five dollars isn't too much to ask, and I could name this one and not have to worry about the kids stealing it (damn kids). I turned her over, looked really close, and determined she was a girl. I named Monet after a painter, but with a black cat you have fewer choices. Everyone expects you to name a black cat something witchy, or Blacky, Inky, something having to do with their color. Well, I did too, sort of. I thought of the most beautiful black haired woman in the world - Ava Gardner, but my friend has a cat named Ava! Dangit...the second most beautiful black haired woman wouldn't do, so I named her for the country that produces most of the most beautiful black haired women...which is saying something. I could have named her China, Mexiana, or even Aztec, but I went with Italia. I love Sophia Loren - originally she had black hair!

So, there you have it. I am the biggest sucker on the face of the Earth, but when the roll is called in Heaven God will say I did a great job loving His babies and his creatures. I know I will be blessed forever here, as well as forever there, and when all is said and done, I will be loved by as many as I can be loved by. Love gives and it is taken. Sometimes we get to choose.

I Can't Possibly Own Five Toothbrushes

(not my photo)

I live alone. I say "alone". I live with two dogs and occasionally a couple of more dogs when I'm babysitting, and now I have to add two kittens since Caity talked me into that yesterday - but NOT one of these animals uses a toothbrush. Why do I have five toothbrushes in my bathroom?

I could, if I had to, pay thousands of dollars to a science lab to run extensive DNA testing on the bristles. I could mix pencil led and baking powder to make a fine print powder - ruin one of my own blush brushes for the cause and use peel-off tape to capture finger prints, but wouldn't you know it - my computer doesn't have the software necessary to find a match to anything I find. Chances of anyone in my house being in CODAS is good enough; (coughs the word "Caity") but nevertheless the mess wouldn't justify the end result. I KNOW who did this, but I can't for the life of me figure out why. She has her own bathroom, she has her own apartment/condo - why am I housing four extra toothbrushes for people I may or may not have given birth to, and why would anyone need that many in the first place. (Do I really want to ask? I may not like what I find out. Maybe a local or out of state band dropped by recently.)

Can germs jump from one lonely pink bristled brush to an innocent looking white handled model with green gel backing and a slightly raised brushing surface? I mean if they wanted to exchange spit could that be happening in the dark of the night in my own bathroom when I'm sleeping just around the corner in the other room? Could I then be given TRANSFER from one brush to my mouth if I use my own brush that happened to swivel itself around to perhaps be friendly and speak to the other brushes? What am I asking from this utensil? Its not like it won't communicate with the others who are propped up right next to it, sharing little holes in the holder! Wait, someone stole my Extreme Clean Aquafresh! I love that cap! Best cap in my opinion and now I'm what...stuck with an unknown's Colgate mint...boring.

This being Memorial Day weekend I'll going to do something memorable. I'm throwing them all out - yes, even my own guy - and I'm starting over. Completely over, just purchasing ONE, can you count that high kids, ONE toothbrush, and ONE tube of Extreme Clean Aquafresh. Do NOT let me catch you bringing in your contraband brushes or taking my tubular magic paste. Go away! I kicked you out! Go away! OK...I can't take it anymore. I have 3 children, one of which hasn't been in my house since November. Did he leave a toothbrush behind and I just haven't noticed it? I'll allow that one - it may be the blue clear model, but who owns the other 3? I hope I'm not kidnapping someones best friend and now considering tossing it out with trash.

Get over it Jude. I must reclaim my station. I must redeem my space and be the Queen of my own domicile...all will be thrown out. (After I call Reuben and verify if his DNA rests on the blue brush. I can't throw that out easily.) I can live with two brushes in the house and I can even use it to my advantage when the bad-guy comes into my house and sees that I have 2 brushes. I often put a pair of Reuben's size 13 shoes out on the porch with a little mud on them to make the bad-guy think he'll at least have to face someone big enough to fill those boats. I move them around, bring them in, exchange them for boots in the winter. You know - I've covered it all. Why not keep the interior safe with the man's toothbrush. It always works. Actually, if you want the truth: the best way to keep all bad-guys out of the house is to take pictures of your snakes crawling on the floor, and put the pictures on the door with a warning sign "Loose Snakes - Enter Carefully" Works wonders.

Back to the brushes...oh let's not, it was a boring topic anyway!

You Have NO Idea What This Blog is About!

(Not the brand I really use)

You see a can of whipped cream and you know a bit about my family's history, so you probably assumed that this blog has something to do with either writing erotica or entertaining on Pyrate Nyte...you would be mistaken.

From time to time, often because I just simply have to have the upper hand, I don't punish my children in ordinary and/or typically time-proven ways. Heck, my youngest will be 18 in just a couple of months, punishment has long been a thing of the past. I do however make my point, and when I can't get my point clearly across I stand my ground a bit - awkwardly. I force humor in all of its unsuspecting ways and in all of its blasting, blazing glory! What I should do is upgrade this blog with photos of my daughter Caity running from me after I douse her with two cans of this stuff - her screaming, running around the commons like a Banshee and me laughing my head off because I was quite successful at catching her completely off guard. (Not hard to do when she's laying out in the sun with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes.)

I had mentioned to Brat about six times that I wanted her to come back to my place and take out everything that belonged to her so that my home would once again be Caity-free, except for the photos of her, the cute framed pictures she drew for me when she was a kid, and a few here's and there's, little reminders of the kid I like to call my Curse. Mom knew EXACTLY what she was doing when she sat me down at the age of 11 and told me she hoped I had a kid someday that would act and behave as I did....I was, of course, my Grandmother's curse for mom. I don't think Grandma did anything to deserve her 9th kid. (I was number 4 Caity number 3)

NOT ONLY did my Brat not take her things she added to them. She brought over clothes she had no intention of wearing and just dumped them, tools to dye her hair white, DVDs she thinks belong to me but they belong to my son, and she brought over Easter baskets she and her sister hoarded for years and yes, there were dead eggs in one of them. (Plastic broken things, but nevertheless dead and unneeded) THROW YOUR OWN CRAP OUT! She wouldn't listen. I just wanted peace. I just wanted her to take these things, her new computer and monitor, the desk I bought her, the hope chest my dad made, the marble-top piece she stole from me months ago and I replaced it, only to have her bring hers back, but it doesn't fit in my house now. I wanted her to take her bucket of shoes, her seasons 1 and 2 of 24, her sister's anime movies - please God, let her take the anime posters too! She wouldn't listen. Weeks passed. I smiled this morning and I left the house.

When I returned - and found my little girl laying by the unopened pool at the complex we live in (commons). I had the maintenance man use his key to unlock the door to the pool area. She probably wondered why on such a hot day I was wearing my favorite OU hoodie, but it never occurred to her that she'd be diving into the ICE cold pool to get away from me - but I won! HA! I always win!

Screaming, shrieking, cussing and laughing she waded and splashed out of the shallow end of the pool - I left of course, I wasn't about to subject myself to her pulling or pushing me in. She vowed to get even - and she probably will. I however, have something she doesn't have - years of experience....my ultimate secret weapon; I have already been there. My mother used boiled eggs and a slingshot to make her point!

And you thought the whipped cream could only be used for.....dessert.

Me! I'm A Caricature! (Thanks J.D. White)

Thanks to J.D. I'm in Pen and Ink!

I'd love to plaster J.D.'s picture up right along side mine, but he's only 17 and I'd had to get his parent's permission. J.D. is one of my students, and if you have a MySpace you can go to mine, and see his profile. He's really cool. My myspace is www.myspace.com/judeauthor

When I was teaching at Santa Fe South Junior High in 2004-2005, J.D. was one of my very favorite students. Hard to pick a real favorite when they're all so cool, and great in their own ways. I used to say that I had my favorite A-students, my favorite B-Students, my favorite Thugs, and my favorite Wanna-Be-Anywhere-But-School Students. I had a team called the Pyrates, and J.D., although he wasn't a real member, was an honorary member of my team. I wanted him but another teach refused to release him. I even offered a fairly good trade - but in the end....I had to keep Luis D. Just kidding Luis! I love you. We had some real talent at SFSJH. At least 3 of the 9th graders that are now about to become seniors are working as artists of some sort. J.D. just landed a job at an amusement park in Oklahoma City as a caricature artist - he's a natural. Bella created her own line of t-shirts and she's actually living in Mexico again making money on the beaches with her designs. I'm not sure what Duque is doing, but I know that NO ONE tags as good as that thug; I mean, man!

I can't believe my babies are all growing up! J.D. was just a lost little blond headed kid in the 9th grade. Now he's all about working his way through tech school, driving his own car that he bought for himself. He's worked 2 or 3 good jobs, good for a kid, and he's keeping the grades up. All this, and get this, he's writing his own autobiography - said his teacher gave him the idea. Thank you! I appreciate the fact that he's remembering that teachers aren't just people you throw things at during assemblies. Oh, I have to tell you a little story about J.D. He used to steal my food at lunch and one of the teachers caught him doing it once. I think he was about to be suspended, but I talked the teacher out of writing him up. He was grounded instead and had to sit with the on-duty teacher for 3 days during lunch. He didn't mind...he ate well. Smiling the whole time.

If life was like a caricature the world would be seen through the eyes of children, artistic children, and we would all have bubble heads, big smiles, bright eyes, and straight teeth. We could have balloony names and wear thin tiny-sized clothing. We would all be happy and the world would spin on the dime we paid it to spin on. We would be happier, full of enthusiasm and wanting to go to the next show! Can't we just take a break from the real world for a second and really put our dreams behind something like that?

Thanks J.D.....I love the picture.

Pyrates Love Their Coffee (and Cigars)

I did not take this picture. A man named Marquito did. He is a Cuban man, and he was visiting St. Augustine when he took it. I loved the shot, and I borrowed it. Thank you Mr. Marquito!

OK...in true Pyrate style I have stolen a picture of the two things that make Pyrate Nyte active and worthy. I could have thrown in a picture of a bottle of  rum as well, but the point is that I stole the picture - in honor of the Pyrates. We (the Red-headed, Scorpio, Celtic women of the area) are again hosting our little party this weekend. I think..no, I know, it will be fun. I have not, repeat NOT mastered the technique of hanging upside down on the pole outside while smoking a cigar...I have therefore offered to buy all the necessary coffe, rum, and cigars. You gotta pay one way or the other right? I'd rather do it with money rather than embarrass myself again in front of my dogs. Last night was one of those practice nights. 11 bruises to my shins and inner thighs later, well let's just say I could try out for a cop show as a victim. I'm beat up.

The fact of the matter is I found Rum Runner cigars. This picture isn't of Rum Runner, the only shots I could find of them were smaller, too small to show off the little pyrate on the band. Cute little pyrate too I might add. I'll have to have my good friend JD make a little character and draw it up for me so I can frame it. I love framing real art - anytime one of my former students makes me something pretty I try to keep it. You can KICK the teacher out of the classroom, but you can't take the classroom out of the heart of anyone who loves their kids. Teachers teach...administrations need to know that. Pyrates rule. Once a Pyrate always a Pyrate, huh kids?

This Friday as the cars turn their head lights on I'll be starting it up back at the ranch as they say - this time the ranch being the condo. I'll have the fire brewing, the brew fired, and the whip cream by the case. We're throwing a little wicked twist to this one...we're allowing men. Someone has to judge the dancing. Someone has to light our cigars, someone has to prepare the feast and since men don't rightfully believe that a woman knows how to handle a grill - we'll indulge one of that species to do the honors. Since the pool will be opening we'll hold off on the rum until after closing that portion of the party down, and let me add this...if you think you've seen sexy you haven't seen sexy until you see a strong woman smile when she takes exactly what she wants. (Darci will be asking Jason to marry her, and that's the stuff Pyrate Nytes are made for.) He can't say no, if he does he has to face the gauntlet of women standing before him with crop whips, chains, and toothy smiles.  

Fly the flag! Light the fires! Memorial Day should be...remembered. Too bad we can't all take what we want that night. Smiles and puffs, puffs and smiles....someday. It's the stuff patience is made for. Port Royale wasn't taken in a day. Edinburgh needs a few pyrates to make it saucy. 

It Worked For Oprah

Faith lounging and Faith with another one of the Greatest American Dogs - Tillman!

Tillman is the sweetest dog you'll meet. He's funny too. He's all about having the best time, and he and his owner/friend Ron spend a lot of time out at the beach just entertaining and lapping up the love they get from the visitors and the locals.

About 2 years ago Faith was on Oprah, and it was YOUR doing. She was just staring at the walls wondering when her next gig was going to take place, when the phone rang. My friend suggested that we start a grassroots effort to get Faith on the Oprah Winfrey Show. I started by asking people who saw Faith's website at www.faiththedog.net to write to Oprah and say they would love to see Faith on her show. They did! People wrote in and soon someone from Harpo Productions called me asking if we'd come out to Chicago to do the show! It was amazing. Faith was beautiful, and if you didn't see the episode - let me tell you something, Oprah was moved to tears. My daughters who were at the stage side and on stage as well as back stage with the Queen of Talk herself told me how moved she was. Oprah said that in over 21 years of interviewing people, she can say that one of her favorite guests ever was a dog. That was said about my little girl Faith when the segment filmed for May 19, 2006. It was later replayed and replayed over and over again because the grassroots efforts worked.

I want to do that again! I want to ask YOU to write to CBS-TV at www.cbs.com and go to the bottom of the homepage where you'll find a little tiny button that says "FEEDBACK". At the feedback page you can click REQUEST or COMMENT and add your name and email address as well as your suggestion. I would love for hundreds or thousands of you to write and say you'll love to see Faith on either "American Top Dogs" or the other CBS new fall series "Greatest American Dog"...she is one of the best! How many other dogs in America can say they have been commissioned (even if only for a little while) to the rank of Sgt. in the U.S. Army? How many of them can brag about going to military and civilian hospitals and just showing up to wag their tongue to make the sick and wounded smile and laugh? Faith is over the top fantastic. No worries there, no need to wonder if she qualifies.

Besides - we're not in it for the money. If we win I promise to donate the money to benefit the Disabled American Veterans in Faith's honor. No joke. I hope you'll help us. Look at her...she's a natural! Actually, she's a SUPER natural.

Thanks in advance. I hope you'll write.