Vegetarian with Benefits

Hey - a girl's gotta eat right? (right!) I don't call myself a vegetarian because I do actually eat chicken about once every 10 days or so, and I'll eat a tuna sandwich from time to time. I just gave up the other stuff about 4 months ago and it hasn't been long enough to call myself anything other than healthier. I'm not one of those all the way girls anyway - well, not that it would necessarily be a bad thing to go all the way mind you - I mean, I might! I just might do it, and if I do I don't need anyone judging me on my choices OK? Hahaha...we are still talking food right? OK, anyway, I gave up beef and pork just because I wasn't getting the nutrients I needed but I was getting the bloat, the weight, the poor digestion, not to mention it was eating through my pocketbook! Wow! I have actually saved a lot of money, enough to buy the fruits and vegetables I needed to juice and dice up anyway.

I have another really interesting bit of information to confess too; now remember I'm not a Catholic, so if I confess I am apt to do it openly and you can forgive me if you want to. I found that not eating beef and not eating pork has allowed me to have even more lucid and vivid dreams - if that was even possible! I have colored, story-dreams complete with plot, dialog, starring roles of course belong to a very select few - OK two, but they're really wild now! I love the way I feel in the morning barring the kinks in my neck from the rock-climbing, sky-diving and the criminals I chase down on the streets of New York with Det. Mac...he's hot I have to give chase when I can.

This morning I was pouring my daily 8 ounces of fruit juice (always mixed with prune juice, aloe vera, and usually carrots) I noticed that the normally browny purple colors had all turned more browny brown so I was thinking to myself that my liver should have no problem helping me out a little - it may think it's been liquefied, but I'm just getting too healthy here...my flabby mid section had better start paying attention to the stuff going on in the inside of me because I'm coming after it! I'm calling for a war, and I'm bringing the big guns - - exercise and diet! We're going to do this damnit, we're going to fly the flag, sing the song, and dance the dance!

I never in a million years would have thought that I, Jude Stringfellow, would be considered a vegetarian - with benefits of course, I do the 5-8 ounces of chicken and a little can of tuna you know - I do keep the path open for some sin. I think the best two or three things about going green (red, orange, yellow, you name it) is that you don't have to go all over the supermarket to get what you need. You don't have to rush home and throw them in the frig. The kids don't eat them as quickly, and I save enough money to buy really cheap CDs on Ebay. My iPod has close to 3000 songs downloaded and most of that music came from my 1 cent madness buying online. I will however tell you that my latest music came from the internet! I downloaded (sorry if I'm not allowed to guys) songs from YouTube. I have Tainted Chains 4 songs that they have uploaded, and 3 from the Funeral Chasers. I'm into young punk indy people - always have been, I was one - I just refuse to give up the tag! I'm old, but I rock! Deal with it.

My Best Friends Love Me

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Prune Juice (Sun Sweet Pictured) and The Balance Ball (This one Giam)

I have to say that my butt gets so much of my attention that I really have to ask myself why I'm so biased toward it. I think I should be giving my stomach equal time, and in some ways I am; after all the prune juice I'm drinking is actually causing the belly to decrease but my belly and my bum have an agreement that the waste which is being attracted and called down by the prune juice will actually exit me through the other side...thank God, He's the designer not I.

I have been using the balance ball (mine is silver and made by Reebok) for a chair now rather than using a computer chair. Something I saw in a magazine I think really, but the picture of the ball on those glossy pages was actually a part of a chair, it sat up a little higher - no problem, I just lowered my keyboard. I bounce and roll, sitting a bit off balanced and "unstable" at all times gives me the edge in my exercise program - - I like to throw that in, I like to say that I have an exercise program. It makes me sound like I have all the kinks worked out, and that maybe I have a really good plan to get rid of all this flab while working on my lazier muscle groups. I guess I do, I mean I have a personal trainer at the tips of my fingers when I pick up the phone and call him. I just don't employ him. Truth is my personal trainer employs me! He's Ryan of Annie Pooch Pops and he and his partner Brian are going to be working with me and Faith on the boxes I've shown you in other blogs...how's that for backward thinking? My personal trainer is available by phone and he pays me! I like that arrangement. Now, if I can just get the butt to cooperate a little faster.

Being from Oklahoma I have always been around horses so sitting on the ball as long as I do makes a lot of sense that way too. I can actually straddle the thing and pretend it's Rebel, shorter of course, a little thinner even, but I can grip him (it) nicely and ride well enough like I used to - imagining of course a trail or two, perhaps a race track if I'm not typing. I've taken to riding the ball when I'm watching television and notice that I stop or slow down just before someone gets hacked or murdered to death. Commercials are nice I time myself and see how fast and how far I can go on my imaginary pony....pretty soon I'll be ready for the Kentucky Derby, me and my butt...my thighs too, yes, my thighs are really enjoying this new chair they're not talking to each other nearly as much as they used to.

My son broke his ankle this past winter and when he wrote to his friends at church he explained that "I knew there was a problem when my ankle met my shin for the first time. Although they had actually known of each other for 21 years or more, they had never properly met - they should not have." I think of my thighs in the very same way - mirrored sisters perhaps, not kissing cousins! I don't need that, I don't want that, but speaking of mirrors, I am actually looking forward to the times I catch myself looking at my backside - right now I only glimpse...looking forward to the day I stand there and just love what I see...maybe take myself out on a date I look so hot!

The future is there, the juice is working it's best to help me too. I make my own trail mix, and it rotates often from heavier on the raisins to heavier on the almonds, but there are always nuts, fruits, oats, and chocolate chips in the mix - much like the juices I blend. I can get a bag of carrots, quart of blueberries, six or seven pears, plums, peaches, and/or apples, but there's always going to be a little prune juice and a little Aloe Vera juice in the canister waiting on the remains to be blended in - it's just the way it is. Friends talked me into buying a Rubbermaid BLUE pitcher so they didn't have to see the browny/purple/orange mix in the refrigerator every time they came over and opened it - stay out!

My friends search my frig for the strangest things too; they can't find beef, chicken, cakes, milk, white eggs, bacon, anything really other than loads of vegetables, fruits, jams I just made or curds I bought for the peanut butter I just made...I'm sick I know. I use sesame oil rather than peanut oil, and I use avocado oil rather than corn oil - olive oil is used for salad dressing and oh yes, you'll find six different varieties of olives in the frig, and probably a dozen types of cheese - and wine. If it has fiber in it you can find it in my cupboard - if it doesn't...go to the store and buy it for yourself. The change I made a few months ago is real and its for life, not a day, not a month, not until I get thin, it's who I am and how I eat - and you know what - it hasn't made me any more sane than I wasn't in the first place, but I feel better and I hung the mirror up just in anticipation of the day I stop in front of it.

My best friends love me. They hope the best for me, they know they have a battle to win, a war in fact, one that has been going on for years and years - you can't expect immediate change to take place, but the more troops you use, the more planning and diligent attention given to the details as well as the maintaining of the plans and diligent work - the better the odds. I don't mind gambling a little, not when I'm the prize!

Hookahs!

No, I actually don't own these two pictures.

My good friends just bought themselves a hookah...for the family! I had to die laughing, that's just not what I would think of as a gift that the kids and I could sit around an enjoy, but I'm sure if I thought about it we probably would. I called them to talk and found out that Niki had been trying to search the internet for ways to load the phunnel bowl on the hookah - correctly. Me, being the closet conservative that I am, would have found a number of health reasons not to allow a hookah in the house when I was at the mall and found a hookah store.The main reason I would never buy the family a contraption like this would be the overall temptation for the need to find a friend on the street with something more interesting to smoke than the Shisha! I've been rolling and smoking Earl Grey tea for years mind you, it smells and tastes remarkably like the "green leafy substance" often written up on police reports after a raid...not sure Earl Grey would taste the same in brownies, but it might be a good joke to pull at a church event! (Oh, I am just so bad....sorry Trudy, I promise, I won't do that! Well, yes I will, but only at John's house, I swear!)

I'm just sitting at my house tonight thinking how fun it would be to have a few cop friends stop by the Bauers and knock really hard on the door in about an hour or so! It would be so much fun to see them scatter around the house, and put their bong up - but the thing is, they're really only smoking the legal stuff - we don't break laws, but Niki would still be running around the house frantic thinking the smoke was somehow going to be grounds enough to put her away for a year or two...maybe I'll call Eric and set it up, he can blow a little Earl Grey just before the cops arrive....I'll video.

I'm forever telling the Bauers to wait and hold off their really good family fights so I can get my Sony out and record it. With their son Eric's mean commerce streak and my eye for good photo angles, we could clean up on the reality show sets on YouTube. I know our sites would be hitting in the millions over and over, and Niki with her Greek ancestry coming out, Big Eric's Boston fisherman's echo - sheer ecstasy in the virtual world...I'd even insight a fight just to get the best of them. It would be several minutes before they realized they'd been set up. Hookahs blowing, smoking up the place, Big Eric wielding his cooking spatula and knives in the air trying to get even ONE word in but having to fight the higher squealing of little tiny Athena over there pulling up the vivid past and how its been a factor in every decision she's ever made and had to live with - - then they'd laugh. They'd both join forces and meet together to stone me....and my camera. I'm sure that part could be edited - unless we're going for the R-rating.

Do you see the tattooed back? That's what I would look like after a few puffs on the hookah! I know I would. I think they say the hookah's smoke is like 10 times stronger than cigars or something. I smoke cigars, I do. I don't mind admitting that. I'm all for a good Pyrate's night of it, rounding out the midnight hour with a few toasts of wine, a little loud hillbilly music (thanks Dwight!) and a good cigar, I do that - but that hookah just ... I don't know, scares me. It looks so devilish. It reminds me of the ancients and their libations as they swear to their gods and ancestors that they'll make a pact to the death to do something remarkable or die trying...or is that just me? I think the whole concept is meant to put one at ease...I'd be the only highly strung hookah blower out there, wondering when the effects were going to hit and if I'd be in control of myself if they did.

I think I almost bought one for my daughter but remembered she had asthma. I thought no, I'll let her die on her own. I won't help - but now give me a good Chablis, maybe a box of rum runners and a dancing pole in the living room. I'm...almost....there - - crank up the stereo, turn out the lights (you don't to actually SEE me on the pole yet...best left up to the ears than the eyes at this point) I'm good. Have fun Bauers...call me if you need directions to load the phunnel bowl again, at least I was successful at Googling that.

Spies, Radars, and Ranges! (A Stringfellow History)

Stringfellows have been in the U.S. Army, the Marines, the Navy, and the Air Force for years and years, wars and wars. I'm not sure if they've been in the Coast Guard, but I know they've been just about everywhere and on both sides of the big pond for that matter. The name Stringfellow can be traced back many centuries actually, even as far back as the 13th century and was called Strongfellow as well as Stringfellow. Stringfellows (as far as my dad's line anyway, came from the Lowlands of Scotland.) The main branch of our name has been categorized, challenged and meticulously researched by my big sister, she's the genealogist in the family - I just gave birth to the last Reuben in a string (no pun intended) of more than 17 of them...that's a lot of Reu. The Civil War hero you see before you in this blog is not a Reuben, but his father was, and his brother was. He is Benjamin Franklin Stringfellow, who was a Confederate Spy and he worked directly under and for J.E.B. Stuart. Stringfellow was from Virginia, and had cousins (Pleasant and Robert Stringfellow) serving in the Union Army, and his own brother was serving in the South.

I've actually stood on a piece of ground just inside the forests at Manassass where both the Union and the Confederate Stringfellows hugged in a brief reunion of sorts before returning to their respective sides to continue a battle that raged - interestingly, B.F. made sure the meeting took place as he was busy pretending to be a Union sympathizer and gathering more information for the South, but he is the one credited with the intel as to where the cousins should meet safely to say what could have been a last-goodbye. Not much is known about Frank except that he did survive the war, and moved further south afterwards. He lived his life out with his family, and died a Confederate hero.

My father is a Reuben. He's pictured there - a Navy man, he wired things and still does. He's not much for words, but ask him something about a circuit and he won't shut up! My daddy served on a ship in Korea from 1950-1955. All of his brothers served in that conflict as well. Upon leaving the service he made the fatal and life-sentencing mistake of attending church one Sunday at the Fortieth Street Baptist Church in Oklahoma City where his family lived - we think he meant to attend Crown Heights but got lost and just sat down in the pew - what happened next was history! Mom tripped the man on his way out the door. He was trying to leave before she could have a proper introduction and she had already set her mind to marry him upon seeing the back of his head when she walked into the back of the sanctuary - see, it comes naturally for me. I know what I want and I do what I can. Like her I scheme, I admit it, but I also smile and through that Southern charm so deeply embedded within my spirit and my soul, I usually get what I aim for....with or without the rifle.

Reube is what they called my grandpa, R.J. was his father, and as it goes up the line it must come down the line as well. My father did not name his son Reuben, but I picked it back up. My brother was not old enough to join the military, but my son picked it back up. There has been a Stringfellow in every war - every conflict, and with both pride for my family and my country, I do wish at times that I had volunteered but I was told I was too skinny to join in 1979 when I tried to join - - I got over that problem fast enough, huh? Oh to be too skinny to join today! Now I'm too old and broken...hahaha

With the history of our family being able to sneak up and capture, wire things and talk through them, driving over mountains and shooting something a mile away, I think I can safely say that I have a few things to write about...let my pen (or in this case my keyboard) be my weapon of choice. I keep both fairly close 24/7. I may never serve in a real uniform, but my heart is often camouflaged in various shades of red, white, and blue.

5 Second Rule for Coffee

Is there a 5-second rule for coffee like there is for food? I mean, if coffee beans or grounds hit the floor or the sink, can you scoop them up and use them anyway? I've seen people at McDonalds pick up burger patties off the floor and put them back into the bin - hopefully they were fired soon afterwards, but I don't eat at Mc's anymore, so I don't care. I do care...I mean, it's nasty, but I encourage as many as I can to stop eating at fast food restaurants, all of them. I ask the question about coffee because I grind my own. I buy a pound a week and I seem to be using about a pound a week - just under, and there's that factor of dust coffee that lands on the counter top and in the sink, or on the floor when its early enough and my hand-to-eye coordination if off a bit. Can I just pick it using a clean paper towel and use it? Maybe use the dust that falls and throw out the dust that stays on the towel - the ultimate dirty coffee, not the slightly maybe dirty coffee that was in the middle of the mix that got wiped? I wouldn't think of using a bleach towel wipette, nor would I ask the question if I were scooping it into my maybe not washed morning hands - so the paper towel thing? Its good right? 

 Is it feasible to think that I wouldn't be serving my dirty coffee to anyone? Not likely. I have surprise guests all the time. I could get a separate little canister for the dust coffee. I could be the only one ever subjected to it - is this even a real issue? Am I really thinking about saving it? OF COURSE, I want to save it, it's coffee! I don’t buy silly cheap coffee. I buy the good stuff. Black Rifle Coffee, Peets, Caribou, maybe Kicking Horse.  Yes, I want to save it - dust or bean! I want to use it; I want to smother it in water and drink it, caress it, I want to bathe in it - not really, I said that for shock value - how are you feeling?  

Believe it or not I'm not going to tell you (I'll tell Tex if I ever meet him in person and he comes over for coffee, he deserves to know whether or not he’s drinking 3, 4, 5 second coffee and hopefully he won’t be too offended. Lord knows, I don’t need him calling me “cheeky” again.) you don’t need to know.  I won't apologize...I'm only telling Tex because he’s foreign and he may not be familiar with Oklahoma food rules.  His mom may never have told him it’s OK to dust off the candy or cookie if it only hit the ground for a second or two.  Now, back to the coffee and the rules, my cereal is suffering while I write this. It's all steel oats, so it'll be crunchy tomorrow no worries. I want more insight as to what is moral, what is ethical, what is right and proper on the coffee hitting the floor, counter top or sink issue. Feel free to write me.  

So, you know, and so you can make an informed decision, in my house the floor may be cleaner than the counter top.  My sink could be the poster child for gnarly at times, and other times smell of Clorox! The sink is out, we'll agree to that now. No cereal, spaghetti, or soy bacteria on my coffee, and certainly no bleach...but the floor? Is that so bad? FINE. I'll throw it out...no really, I swear I will. I'll be more careful when I transfer it, maybe I need a bigger grinder I don't know.... I'll throw it out now even before I take another bite of my wonderful molasse infused oatmeal. Let me go, I have to get up and grind something...something less dirty.  

In Loving Memorial to Cookie Monster

Our little baby Cookie Monster is in Heaven now: January 15, 2008 - June 30, 2008

It's been 11 days and I wanted some amount of time to pass before I brought to light this very sad and tragic story. I will add it to my comedy blog, not because there is a shred of humor to it, but because our sweetest little angel-girl did not deserve what happened to her, and if telling her story on every sort of blog possible can help bring awareness to this type of behavior (animal cruelty) then I will have no problems posting the story everywhere I possibly can.

DISCLAIMER: The following story deals directly with the tragic kidnapping and torture of this unbelievably precious animal you see above as well as a little kitten we barely knew. Do not read this story if you are unable to realize the gravity of its content.

Cookie was born January 15, 2008 to one of my daughter's friend's mother's dogs. Just like Faith was born to Reuben's friend's mother's dog, Cookie was also born to a household where the owners were friends of ours. Unlike our precious Faith, Cookie's beginnings were tranquil, full of joy, and everyone in the household was jealous to see her leave and live with us because she was so beautiful, so much fun, and full of so much love. Faith had been born to a family whose dog was not a pet, but a working dog, therefore her offspring (Faith and siblings) were not really cared for in house or given the tender loving time it took to safely and securely wean the puppies from their mother. We waited and we waited for the requisite six-week period to pass, and believe me, the owners of the mother dog would certainly have kept our Cookie for themselves if they hadn't already been taking care of so many other sweet and adorable Dachshunds. Cookie is still (because we choose to remember her the way she was when she was in our arms) the most gorgeous yellow spotted piebald Dachshund I have ever seen. So unique and not just in her markings. She was Dachshund to the end - taking on the world with her big padded feet, those flopping ears that little fuzzy yellow face that she liked to tilt to the side with one ear flying high in the air like a radar!

Cookie was Caity's constant little darling. She slept with her of course, but she also went shopping with her in those little doggie purses. Caity took her to the mall, took her to the park, took her to eat with her - she was her baby. You've seen bonding like this before, and you probably think "Wow, that dog is so spoiled" well, yes, Cookie was beyond spoiled - she was ultra spoiled and loving every single glorious minute of life from the minute she woke up to the last sigh she would give out just before settling into Caity's squeeze at night.

Sometime last month when I was in Spokane, Washington on a business trip with Faith, Caity had gotten herself and a couple of her friends into a bit of trouble; they were caught trespassing on an apartment complex with a 24 hour pool and spa, but they didn't live there. The police was loathe to write them up, but it was his job to do so. The only one over the age of 18 was a guy who will remain anonymous for he is the culprit of not only the trespass incident to begin with, he is the murderer of our little dog as well. To give you his name publicly would certainly seal his fate and I will have nothing to do with that - I will let God have His personal vengeance and wipe my hands of this monster forever.

When my mother picked Caity up from the juvenile center because I was more than 1500 miles away, Caity had mentioned that she needed to stop hanging out with this character because time after time he only brought bad luck to the group she hung out with. This "person" brought beer to parties, he brought drugs, he wanted the girls to go skinny dipping, he wanted them to do things that they knew was both illegal and not the least bit moral - and YOU KNOW he always checked my blog and website to see when I would be gone because my daughter would be home alone. To be honest this was at a time she was living on her own having taken over her sister's apartment before the lease ran out and she was to move back in with me. It worked out great for this guy that I traveled and my daughter was a bit of a partier - she got more than she bargained for.

When Caity refused his sexual advances this man gave her a poisoned drink. The effects weren't as strong as he had perhaps wanted and she was none the wiser because nothing happened and she was fully capable of pushing him out the door. The next time he visited he introduced her to a couple of grams of 'shrooms' and lied to her about their effect. When she became aware of the trip she was about to take she immediately picked up the phone and tattled on herself to her older sister, who called me in Spokane (same business trip) and I couldn't help her then anymore than I could a couple of days before - this guy would not leave her alone! When she and I managed to convince him to leave, and the counselor from our church made her way over to my apartment to babysit my daughter this man went right back to Caity's apartment and literally killed her little kitten that she had for less than 2 weeks. the kitty's name was Gideon, and due to the nature in which he killed her I will not describe it. I will tell you this; it was very violent, and he somehow convinced Caity through texting her that she had committed the crime herself.

To be sure Caity as a moral kid was quite upset with herself and with what she had allowed to happen not only to her own body, but to her little cat. She couldn't understand any of it. One of our friends buried the kitten and placed a little cross over her grave in the garden. Upon my return I took the kitten to the vet and was told exactly how she was killed. Caity would have had deep embedded claw marks all over her if she had done the crime - she did not. The police were certain they knew who it was and the fact that he wore hoodies in the summer allowed for more than protecting himself from breezes - this man was no stranger to killing smaller animals with claws. Even with the hoodie there were marks and he was found out, but without evidence of the actual crime he was not arrested at that time.

One month later our Cookie fell prey to this beast herself and the means and method of which she was killed will be disclosed and I will talk about it because I was more or less capable of preventing it and I didn't realize it until it was too late. On the afternoon of June 28, 2008 my daughter had given Cookie her weekly bath, something she did just to beautify our little girl. She was shaking and was a bit cool from the A/C so Caity put her out in the backyard, on the patio with the gate closed in order to dry off. When Caity went to the mall we thought nothing, not one thing of Cookie being left out on the patio by herself, she had been there a number of times, but this time there was a killer waiting for Caity to leave and for me to busy myself about the house. Looking into the house through the patio sliding doors couldn't have been hard to do, the blinds were left open so I could see Cookie. I heard the familiar squeaking of my gate as it was being opened, but didn't see anyone and from my point of view the gate was closed again, as if someone thought of coming in but didn't. I didn't think of Cookie getting out or being let out because in all the time we had her she simply would not run away. Why would she? She knew exactly what benefits remained with the family she lived with.

About an hour later I had decided to bring the other dogs out to play with Cookie but couldn't find her. I frantically called for her, went throughout the neighborhood and complex looking of course, and had incorporated the help of every neighbor possible. Everyone in this complex and commons absolutely adored Cookie, they wanted her for themselves, but they realized that they could visit any time they wished, and she was so very much in love with Caity - they loved both of them together just the way they were.

When another hour and another hour passed it was apparent to us that someone had actually taken her from my backyard - a feat that yes, could have been done by someone who didn't live in the complex that had seen her and wanted her, and this was our hope because to think of one minute that the man we hated with our deepest passion could have our dog would have bee impossible to imagine. We knew what he was capable of. Then the emails came, and the texts.

He never came out right and said he had her, but he alluded to it. He never came out right and said he had killed her, but it was implied. We put out signs, we continued to look for her, we took the cellphones and the e-mails to the police and filed a report just in case they could do something at this point. We at least had him for harassment and because he swore up and down we have him on FCC regulations as well - but we knew in our hearts what he was actually probably doing to little Cookie. The weekend passed - our church prayed not only for Caity, but for the soul salvation of this man. Some people are just simply the Devil's toys - he is one of these people. I do not believe he will ever have another chance to change before he dies.

Monday morning, after having scoured the local streets we were told that Cookie's lifeless body was found over on an access road just 1 block from our house. We had searched it over and over and she had never been there before - suddenly she was found dead on the road? No, she was found dead in the very very middle of it...where she would be sure to be hit by oncoming traffic - however, we took notice that her face and body structure indicated that she had been strangled, not hit by a car - she was in rigor and this meant that she had been killed about 4-8 hours prior to our discovery of her body. Her collar had been removed. People who hit dogs with their cars don't stop and take collars off of them - this was all the cops needed to file an animal cruelty charge - and a search warrant for the collar.

I wouldn't let Caity look at Cookie, but she insisted on doing so. I wanted to protect my little girl, but she was hell-bent on seeing the twisted and tortured face of her beloved at least once so that she could know that this man was to be held accountable for the worst infraction of my daughter's young 17+ years. This was the one thing that would change my daughter's path from being somewhat liberal to a new state of personal awareness, cautious, and now forever changed by what some people are capable of being. It was the first time she had ever verbally damned someone to a living breathing Hell that she hoped he would meet soon. This is something no one should have to encounter, and especially at the age of 17. When your life seems so new and so fresh, it should never be that you see or experience such a great loss as to lose the love of your life - even if it wasn't a spouse, a mother, or a brother, sister, or friend - it was a soul mate nevertheless. Cookie was forever gone.

When Animal Control picked her up the traffic had been so cruel to her, there was absolutely no way I would have allowed Caity near us at that time. She was literally held at home and forbidden to come with me. I have never had to stand beside a curb awaiting my pet to be returned to me in a black, plastic bag, tied off at the top with a knot. I will never forget my heart's weight, or the heaving my chest felt the second I saw the bag drop a bit and the control officer reach down to pick up the fragmented bones of my little dog's jaw which had been severed by oncoming traffic - this could not be Cookie - she was already in the arms of a loving God, in the hands of the children who wait up in Heaven to receive all animals who lose their lives unexpectedly, as I believe there is another set of angels who await on those whose deaths are accompanied by loved ones and prayers. Just before I took the bag from the officer I turned to hug her for her generous help - and I told her as best I could through my tears "Thank you, her name was Cookie". I can't forget what she then said - through her own warm tears she wiped her eyes with the back of her arm (her hand gloved for protection) and she said "I never get to know that sort of thing. I just have to pray for their families. Thank you. I'll not forget little Cookie I promise."

We took our baby dog to my father's ranch. I don't know why I would call it my father's since my mother lives there as well, but when we have such a grave responsibility as we had that morning it only seems fitting to say we took her to my dad's to be buried on the acreage where for years our other loved animals (and those we simply find on the land; rabbits, beavers, birds, turtles) have been laid to rest. A prayer was enough, and a sweet farewell bidding yes, but there will be more to this memorial for our puppy - there will be much more.

Caity and I have decided to bless our dog with a 50-60 page book which won't go into as much gross detail as I have here in this blog - it will be written for children to understand the need for being responsible and diligent with pets. It will touch on the fact that there are those bent on hurting us, and that they often use our animals to get to our souls, or to our hearts. The book will be titled "My name is Cookie" I believe a fitting tribute is due to such a love as ours.

Too Excited to Sleep!

I went to bed last night, or rather this morning around 12:30 but I just couldn't sleep. I was too excited about possibly being hired at Capitol Hill High School, one of Oklahoma City's inner city schools that has long had a bad reputation. In reality the school's reputation has been overstated, underrated and quite often simply exaggerated. Kids are kids! I've been an inner city school teacher for over six years now and there's nothing new under the Sun believe me. What you see if what you saw years and year ago in Chicago, L.A., NYC, Miami, Dallas, you name a big city and my kids (well, they will be my kids) are mirror images of these kids. The names have changed - the heart is the same. The really cool this is; they DO want to learn. You just have to know how to get past the tough looks to find that desire some times.

I got up this morning just a few minutes ago and brewed the coffee. There was no reason to lay in the bed thinking about it. I was planning how I was going to be decorating my room. I was taking measurements, buying blinds, getting the paint brushes out. I saw myself going to the Lakeside Teachers Store and buying all the things I want in my room too - colored chalk, markers, tacks, posters, I was even thinking about how I was going to set up the whiteboard with objectives, vocabulary, and the project or assignment for the day. I think I was even dusting off and counting literature books in my dreams! (Maybe if I passed them out in my dream I could actually see the pretty faces of the sophomores I'm going to be teaching! Do you think? Because I'll run back to bed and dream a little more if I think I could do that!) LOL

It was obvious to me (and the dogs who kept staring at me) that I wasn't going to get any sleep. Time for the eggs to be beaten up. I broke two and cut up a little tomato, olive, some spinach and even grated the Parmesan...breakfast came early today. It's 6:00 and I'm thinking I only have 3 more hours before someone calls me and asks me if I want the job. What if they don't offer it to me? Oh, I would be so sad - - I really would be. I'd be thinking about those would-be faces all day. I'd probably drive down to the school, park in the lot, walk into the building and grab the new principal by the lapel....hey hire me!!! But I'd be smiling. I'm like that, I smile.

During the interview with the principal, the vice, and the department chair I was told that I would be preparing the sophomores for the EOI (End of Instruction) test, and that English II was the number 1 priority in Oklahoma for these kids, that and Algebra I, but you know, MATH is a four-letter word to me, I try not to use it very often. Its important to know that I can spell it, I can write about it, I can even instruct others to write about it - but I don't use it that much. I can't wait to be the beacon of light for some of these guys I know I have it in me. I know I have the tools and the models....I just need a big room, lots of desks filled up with ready-to-go workers who have that good-morning look in their eyes. I think coffee should be optional for high schoolers don't you? Starbucks could open in the hallway...that would make me happy.

So...I wait. I wait, and I dream. I dream and I plan. I plan and I wait. I'm about to open up a can of prayer too and just ask God to hurry up this time thing...sometimes He can be sooooo slow about things. I have work to do! *grins*

The MOST Pathetic!

I have discovered the absolute most pathetic thing in the world. I have seen it. I have actually been a party to it - yes, I know the most God-awful thing known to man and/or woman, and it is this: To see older women (myself and neighbor) doing cartwheels because we still can. We were also doing round-offs, and even the side and front splits - again, because we still can! We had the best of times, we had a blast, and we were, if you can imagine it, successful at our craft and form...but we were by nature GROSS! LOL

Carla and I were outside in the commons this evening and with the weather being fickle, not knowing if it should rain, spit or be clear, we were feeling a little fresh and frisky ourselves. One topic of school and cheerleaders led to our mutual admittance to having been a part of that circle of girls back in the day (many many days ago for me) and we began recalling cheers we knew. Because I'm older than my good neighbor I was able to recall some extremely lame cheers, ones that set her cackling into tears as she recalled having made grave-fun of our group, the 70's bunch...let me see if I can tempt you to giggle. READY? OK!

"P-A-R-T-Y Party Hearty at Patriot High, said P-A-R-T-Y Party! And when we party, we party hearty, and when we jam, we don't need no ham, and when we boogie, we boogie woogie." (Then there's this little dance thing where each cheerleader comes out and introduces herself. Mine was really lame, a real 70's themed introduction dealing with ham radios.) "Breaker 1-9 to the Warrior team, our handle is the Patriots and we're really mean. Don't 10-3-6 for that score we're on the deck, hit the floor. My name is Jude, gotcha covered, we're rolling through - 10-4"

YES YES YES...we were that bad! Say it out loud, we were the most hilarious women out there tonight - and we loved it. Carla did her round off and introduced herself in her little cadence, I did mine and repeated it, then we did the splits to impress our other neighbors. Oh, and we couldn't forget the way that other cheerleaders would come over to the visitor's side and take the girls back to the home side to introduce them to the home audience. We did that back in the day without fighting and cat-scratching, we were actually amicable....really sweet!

"Hey you Patriots - listen to Carla from the Warrior team. She's here to show you what it really means to be wearing the gold, to be wearing the green" (We were blue and gold) So then Carla did her "Howdy Pats, we're over there, you'll see us play and meet your dare. You'll thank us when we leave your field, we're taking the win and leaving our shield" it was cute...I liked it. Ours was much more...nerdy. "Yeah Hey Warriors you're OK, but sit back down and watch us play! We're not here to stay too long, we'll win this one and say so-long! So-long, so-long" and then you do the back-hand springs all the way to the middle of the field and run back to your side, it was sooooooo 70's. I loved it.

When I watch That 70's Show I can relate to some of it more than I can to most of it. I think they need more football, that would make me happy. I breathed it, ate it, drank it, lived it....loved it. Still do, but something tells me that the little bit of movement and dancing we did wouldn't hold a flame to the great gyrations being demonstrated on the field today. I am BLOWN away by the girls and the guys that get out there and kick butt on the cheer squad...serious athletes! SSSOOO much better than I could ever have imagined to be. It's like watching an old tape of Olga Korbit (who?) and then seeing the new 2008 American Gymnastics team...and just standing there with my mouth on the ground. (and I thought I was cool because I could stand on my hands and put my feet on my nose!)

Suffice it to say that when I move from this location I will take the memories of me and my neighbor with me, but perhaps never embarrass myself to this degree again. It is fun though knowing that I can still physically do a few things...at this age.

Re-Up

I couldn't find the owner of the picture on top, but I have to say I didn't take it. It is a beautiful sight however. Don't you agree?

When Baby Boy decided to join the Army I have to say I wasn't thrilled. I knew he would be accepted - who wouldn't want a fine, tall, strapping, handsome, strong boy like mine? Of course he would be accepted. It took paying off more than $1500 worth of speeding tickets to get him in, and he had to take his tests over and over again because someone misplaced them - but he was accepted. I knew he would be protected, even though he's broken more than 4 bones, sprained both his ankles, a wrist and his nose at one point. I knew he would be fed. What I didn't realize is that the Army because they have the right to do so, took four inches from my son's height (on paper) so that he could drive a tank. If you look at this picture you'll see that most of those who have re-enlisted are around the same height. How does the Army do that?

Today my son is in a very secret place and I can't tell you where. He's used Facebook to talk to me, he's called and told me how hot it is and how he thinks he'll be even more skinny than he was the last time I saw him. He even mentioned that my own weight plateau wouldn't stand a chance where he is right now. I would lose 20 pounds in a week he promised. That would be one heck of a spa treatment don't you think? Maybe the Army can let a few of us non-combative types in just for the weight loss; then we'd leave and smile, waving to the boys in uniform, thanking them for their hospitality. Water was in good supply according to my son, and he said that he's getting better and better at shooting with sweat rolling into his eyes. That has to be a good thing right? Who wouldn't want sweat pouring into their eyes at about the time they took careful aim with one of those big guns he has on top of that tank? Has anyone considered the damage those things can cause when boys can't see clearly enough to shoot? (He's getting better at it - indicates that he wasn't that good before...what did he blow up, and am I going to have to replace it?)

When I look back over the last two years that my son has been Army-oriented I have to say that green is good for the boy - makes me wonder how he'll look in dusty brown? With the possible new withdrawal program it's likely Baby Boy will be in and out of the sandbox in no time - just in time for Winter to hit up in Fairbanks again, where he was hoping to get a reprieve. He told me once that being a pen-pal of George Bush Sr. didn't exactly help when the orders came to go train. He was hoping for Germany, Hawaii, something with a little color - he got Fairbanks in January, and he's been trying to thaw out ever since - - he's doing that now.

With the re-up going on I have to say that I'm dang proud of the thousands and thousands of men and women who have decided to rejoin and continue the good fight. I don't know how I would feel if Baby Boy did the same, but it is his decision - he is man enough, old enough, smart enough, and trained enough to make that choice for himself...but something tells me he's excited to join the National Guard in a year and get started on the college education he's been writing about. History coaches are in high demand in Oklahoma...you heard me, History Coach. You can't teach History in Oklahoma without a certificate in Physical Education. Reuben's years and years of kicking ass on the football field qualified him for a shot at the best university in the nation as far as he and I are concerned. Soon the University of Oklahoma will have one more green/dusty brown soldier wearing Crimson & Cream and standing guard on the 20 yard line. The bigger difference between this one and the others on that line may very well be that he's there to play the game - having come from a really tough reality in the Middle East.

To those who serve - I can not thank you enough! Hooah!

Good Luck to Ron & Tillman!!!

Ron & Tillman are contestants on Greatest American Dog! I hope they win!

Hey, I can't turn the TV on without seeing Ron & Tillman on another CBS-TV commercial advertising their new show beginning July 10, this one: Greatest American Dog. Now, we all know, and please; Ron, you'll have to forgive me for saying it, but I have the world's greatest dog, so by virtue of that statement, and since America is part of the world - I also have America's greatest dog! LOL That being said, CBS as chosen my friend Ron and his absolutely adorable little dog for their show, and you can bet my weight (significant as it is) is being thrown in for his vote! If I could set up a phone dialer to call in that wouldn't cost me an arm and a skateboard wheel - I'd do it.

When Faith and I went to L.A. in January 08 to film a Japanese show called DASH we had NO IDEA we'd be filming with Ron and Tillman too. Actually, to be honest we didn't film with them. We were at Venice Beach watching and playing while Tillman out skateboarded every human on the set! He was an animal! No, really, he was a boarding machine. I loved the way he'd stop for half a second, check his wheels and go on! Once he saw that he was going to run flat into a wall and he literally turned himself. I was screaming!! It was so cool to see him play with Ron and with Tsuiya, the host of DASH. I'll post a few more pictures, but you gotta give it up this fall for Tillman if you have the chance to vote for them.

Ron (and he won't mind me saying this because he is SOOOOOOO down to Earth) didn't have an agent when we were filming, and we were on the beach playing with the dogs when a Beach Patrol unit came up to us...this is hilarious...anyway, I'm like motioning to Ron and his buddies to move up the beach, get the dogs out of the way sort of thing. My dog had a vest - with patches and everything. She was somewhat allowed on the beach, but poor Tillman - he was treated like an orphan by the Beach Cop! I was doing my best to pretend that OUR agent had the papers and the vest for Tillman just over by the benches - I was sure he was coming back with them. The whole time I'm still motioning to Ron who's waving at me...finally his friends got it. They start moving up the beach, running with Tillman, trying to give me a little Lee-Way so I can dig myself into the pit I was creating for all of us, but like I said I had a fancy two-legged dog with a vest to hold the man's attention! (Did I tell you this man had the best looking biceps that side of the Mississippi? Seeing how I was in the water practically that's a long long stretch of land to be comparing other people's biceps! He was monster-bicep man!)

Within a few minutes there's smiling Ron, waving Faith's vest, nodding and saying something about the agent getting back to us! Yes..yes, it was a fun day at the beach! Illegal activities not withstanding, Tillman was one great friend to Faith. They played and played...he's gentle too, something she appreciated. When I asked Ron about needing a real agent he was up for it. I called Mike Maguire my advisor, and quickly told him about Ron's need. Well - they're working together now! That's one of the coolest things I can think of for Ron because with Tillman he's got himself a showcase! For the next few years anyway I'm hoping we see a lot of that dog on TV and in movies...now Faith flies First Class, and with her quiet demeanor I'm sure she'll continue to wow the audiences in the skies. Tillman should probably not hope for such grand treatment - he's a rowdy boy, but sweet as the day in long. I bet he'd like a few First Class bennies though...maybe an omelet or two, heated peanuts, and a little warm towel. (As long as they don't roll Tillman should leave them be!) :O

Good Luck Ron!! Good Luck Tillman!! We love you!!!!! Thanks for making the beach a great experience.