My Edinburgh

 My Edinburgh 

 

She sleeps within my arms at night 

Silent as a picture 

Deeply etched within my mind

  

Her streets, cobbled as they wind 

Her skirts tossed north, south, east, and west 

Dancing parks and laughter 

Rippling motorways and rails 

Thousands stroll her pathways 

She edges over, holds me tight 

Her whispers sear my soul

 

She tells of her past and how  

She’s thought of me from old 

She tells me how she’ll draw me close, how 

She’ll drape my heart, elation 

I lean to kiss her fading face

And realize my ransom 

She, my Edinburgh, my temptress 

She my dream, my muse 

One day we’ll embrace and how 

But now she is aloof 

One day she will be my home 

 

For now, I am her hostage 

Soon I’ll dance within her soul 

My Edinburgh, my essence 

 

Jude Stringfellow    12/31/2020 

Kilty! Kilty! Kilty! (I Confess)

 Yeah, it's true, I am a fan of men in kilts -- notice I did not say "skirts" because a kilt, my friend, is not a skirt - - it's a magical, beautiful thing, but it isn't a skirt.  There are very few things in this world that will stop me in my tracks leaving my lower chin on the ground than to see a big, husky, bearded Scotsman tying the laces of his dirty black boots (knee slightly elevated of course) on a rock while wearing his family colors.  Lord, have mercy! (and by "have mercy" I do mean send that handsome man over immediately!)  Give me the big, bulky, bearded, hairy man over the pristine pretty boys EVERY time.

I don't know when it happened; when the first time the sight of a man wearing a kilt had such an immense impact on me as a woman, but as a young girl I remember thinking it was both entertaining to watch men in parades playing bagpipes and to watch them proudly strut around in plaid kilts. I always wondered why some had this color and some had that, and why some had "purses" hanging from their waists but others didn't. I questioned my mom to the point that she drug me to the Bethany Library and found a few books on the subject to keep my wee mind busy.  You don't know this, but from the time I was 4 I was literally jumping over my neighbor's fence to walk a solid straight mile to the Bethany Library so I could "read" books.  Pictures are great too you know, and there they were - - all kilty and pretty. At that age I only looked at the kilts...today I tend to look past the kilt and let my mind wander. I do exercise the brain from time to time, it will wander to really cool places like the Highlands, the Lowlands, the Isle of Skye, Dunbar's Coastline....anywhere I can find a piper, but I'd take a bearded guitarist in a kilt as well, as long as he was wearing dirty black boots and being a man about it.

My good friends know, KNOW, I love kilty men so they often times send me posts, memes, little tacky things to keep my mouth smiling and my eyes popping.  This past Christmas I think I received about 6 new posts with unkilted Scotsman holding wreaths making excuses as to where their kilts were.  I had to laugh because I know that in Scotland the average home doesn't have a dryer in it so they hang their clothes on a "green line" outside...it RAINS in Scotland (a lot) so their kilts were probably soggy! Poor Scotsmen standing there all bear butt naked with flowery wreaths; just made me want to fly over to Edinburgh to make sure they stay warm! (wait...I'm wandering again) :) 

Soon and very soon I'll be in the land of the plaided love clothes! I'll escape America for the shores of clifted grace, unending pipes, swirling woodwinds, harps, and of course, an acoustic guitar; you can't have music (not real music anyway) without an acoustic guitar! I'll trek the streets of Old Town, become one with the cobblestones of Glasgow, sweat as I climb to Arthur's Seat, and know the calling of my people in the mewing of the Lowland's winds and air. I will be home.   Once I am home I'll probably take a minute to enjoy the air, the sky, the very rocks my feet feel beneath them, but it will NOT take me long to search for that brawny bearded bull bending over to tie his dirty boot.  I will find one! I don't know what the heck I'll do with him when I do, but I will at least stare a good minute and probably giggle a little...wandering....just wandering. 

Girls Don't Do That -- Do They?

"Honey, hold my cigar, I gotta go pee!" I remember the first time I said that to a man and when I came back literally less than a minute later, he had snuffed out the butt end of my cigar like I wasn't expected to return for a while.  The look I gave him must have let him know he didn't quite stack up to my expectations either, and to be honest with you, our first date was our last one. Mind you, this was before people got on social media and posted every damn thing that happens to them during a 24-hour period. I am just as guilty as a swingin' horse thief for that one, because I do actually (pretty much) post most everything interesting that happens to me during a 24-hour period. It's a dang good thing I'm not having sex these days - - I could be considered an erotica author by the amount of posting I might do if I was. I'd be so pleased with myself I'm sure.  Nope, nothing really all that exciting really goes on these days, unless you count my dreams. 

Living in a Southern state (Oklahoma is considered a Southwestern state, but I still claim to be from the South since Oklahoma City is south of Tulsa, even if it's just a little bit further south. We are 100% below the Mason-Dixon line, therefore, we are considered people of the South, and I will uphold my manners, eat my grits with butter, and string my pole with strong string 'cause there ain't no reason to let a good fish off the hook just because you bought cheap line! (You can read into that last one if you want to, it's a double-meaning sort of thing.) 

Where I come from, we're taught that boys don't hit girls, girls don't bring a boy home unless he's willing to look Daddy in the eye and shake his hand, and we certainly don't bring muddy boots into the house, ever!  We're taken to church on the first Sunday following our birth, we stay in that church until we die, and we never marry anyone whose last name could have been the same last name as one of our cousins at least three generations back - - unless their names are like Brown, Green, Black, White, Jones, Johnson, Wilson, Williams, or something you can't necessarily do decent research on because there are so many of them to start with. We just assume the gene pool will work itself out at that point.  

Where I come from girls are girls and boys are boys, men are usually grown ass boys, and women have more than enough swing in their caboose to catch a man off guard long enough to marry him for a 50–60-year spell, make a few babies, raise a few chickens, train a bunch of horses, and fill up the pews for a few more decades when the old folks die off and go see Jesus.  It was at a family member's funeral that I had asked my date to hold my cigar - - where I come from going to a funeral on a date isn't out of the question if the guy knew the dead person too; it just makes sense to show up together and at least have someone to talk to and play "Under the Sheets" with when you start singing old hymns. 

If you don't know what playing "Under the Sheets" is you aren't a Baptist, hell, you may not even be a Methodist -- they don't play it as often but it does happen if they bring a Baptist friend to church with them. What you do is you pick up your hymnal when the music leader instructs you to, and he'll tell you where to turn.  Let's say he says "Please turn to page 367" and then he tells you the title of the song, which is something like "Blessed Assurance" and when he says the name of the song, you turn to your friend and say "Under the Sheets".  You can play the game quietly for a while, but sooner or later someone turns to "He Touched Me" or "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and then there's no way to hold back the snorting at that point. You will be caught by at least 2 choir members, your Mama, and a deacon or two - - be prepared to either stand up straight without looking anyone in the eyes, or just leave! It's often best to just leave.  

If you know me you know I don't actually attend church anymore. I watch it online about 4x a week, and I go through the internet researching prophecy, but just to keep things moving I do call up an old Methodist friend now and again to recall some of the shenanigans we "Good Christian Kids" did back in the day. I remember swimming in the baptismal on a Saturday, having climbed into a window I left open the week before.  I've climbed on top of the church during services. I've left to ride horses in the back pasture behind the church. I've sat in a completely random seat just to confuse my family members. I did that so often I didn't really have an "assigned" seat. The preacher just had to guess where I was!  

I think I was raised right. I know I love Jesus.  I may act the fool from time to time, but He knows me, and He loves me.  He wouldn't mind it if I lit up a cigar now and again either. Girls do that sort of thing. We really do...here in the South anyway. 

 This is the actual church I was raised in, and saved in when I was almost 6 years old.

It May be a Southern Thang.

 You know how you go to the store and a man will open up the door for you? (I mean, that is of course, if the door isn't an electric door) You start to approach the door and you see a man about to walk away from it, but then he turns and gives you a little nod just before he reaches out to pull the handle on the door to let you inside - - it may very well be a lost form of masculinity, but one this Southern girl dearly appreciates.  I was walking through the parking lot of our local grocery store just this morning with one of God's best creations. When I say that God really out did Himself on this one, I do mean it.  I was walking through the parking lot with my son Reuben who, by the way, was raised by a good Christian Southern woman who was also herself raised by a good Christian Southern woman, WHO, in case you were wondering, was raised by a good Christian Southern woman!  I'm talking to my son when I realized I was talking to myself, he was NO WHERE to be seen.  I glance around and finally found him; he had literally sprinted ahead of me to get the door not only for me, but for the two ladies who were arriving just before I was about to step into the doorway.  The smile on my face!  You could have seen it a mile away and around a bend!  The two ladies did their part too; they gave a giggle and a nod to my gallant son and of course they smiled at me too because they KNOW where he learned his good manners.

I tend to brag on my son's good looks more often I suppose than I do my two daughters.  I can't help myself, he's taller, rugged and the soldier mentality of his just oozes toxic masculinity, something I am absolutely a fan of -- no Metro pansy boys for me, thank you very much. Give me a man every single time!  My daughters are gorgeous of course, but in very different ways. Funny how you can have two kids from the same two parents and just 14 months apart, but they come out looking so very different from one another, and boy howdy, did they ever turn out different in their ways, means, emotions, attitudes and behaviors. You can't get more day and night than you do with Laura and Caity, that's for damn sure. It may be another Southern thang, but I do say "boy howdy" and "that's for damn sure" now again.

Laura, my introverted, somewhat shy-to-speak-to-humans type is 31 years old and really she doesn't date anyone. It may be because she's always got a horse in her hands or it could be because she's rather observant and has noticed that most of her friends have already started on their 2nd marriage, they have kids strung out across the nation, and they tend to get all gussied up for someone who only wants to use and abuse them  - her assessment of the situation anyway.  It could also be because she's just not social really, and being at the barn is going to be the best place a man (who also owns horses) will ever catch her attention. She doesn't take selfies, she's not into make up other than when she cos-plays or does online animation videos and Tik Toks.  She's a gamer, a streamer, has thousands of "followers" but only 2 actual friends. She's really pretty in a natural way, but very few actually SEE that.

Caity - - let's see, how do we describe Caity Baby? I'd say a loaded firecracker as opposed to one that has already been set off. She's full (and I do mean FULL) of energy and surprises. She's drop dead gorgeous in the most usual and commonly acceptable way, and she knows it. She literally tells herself every day how pretty she is, and she won't allow anyone to treat her less than the queenly manner in which she has grown accustomed to.  She is a Leo by zodiac, perhaps that matters. (Laura is a Taurus, quite stubborn and bullheaded) Caity is also an exhibitionist - - EVERYONE will see how she looks either with or without clothes, and she really doesn't give a damn what they may say or think about it. She's quite pleased with herself and who she is, therefore she's her own woman...again, it may very well be a Southern Thang.  Both girls are Christians, solid believers in Christ, but we do say that Caity will be the one flipping the Devil off on the way to Glory.

Being born a Baptist wasn't a bad thing either - - in my opinion everyone should be a Baptist for about 10-12 years and get the benefit of learning every tiny detail about every single story in the Bible. Then when they reach the age of accountability they need to read the Word from their own point of view and do their meditation, prayer, and seeking of God's will -- that is NOT a Southern thang, but a Gospel thang.  I'm so very grateful my Lord decided to set me in the great Southwestern state of Oklahoma; perhaps I would have preferred to be born in the Lowlands of Scotland bordering England, but we'll never know - - I have a twang, not a drawl, and certainly not a brogue.  It's a Southern Thang.

It's Been a "2020" Kind of Year

 My 2020 started just a bit early, in that on December 2, 2019 I was released from my very permanent and would be forever teaching position at an elementary school that literally begged me to come teach for them. I am THAT teacher, the one that teaches 6th graders at a higher learning level, so the school made such a fuss about me joining them.  Funny how a few months (from August to December) can make such an impact on the lives of OTHER teachers who didn't want to have to deal with the shared students we taught asking questions about how Bloom's Taxonomy scales and/or levels of observation could be applied to the disciplines the kids were learning other than Reading. (I taught Reading. There was a Writing teacher as well, and let me tell you, she was the WORST at stringing two sentences together let alone using proper grammar. Call me crazy, but if you're teaching kids grammar you should probably know it yourself!)   

I lost my job just before 2020 struck, but I wasn't upset about it. I was able to strike back and get a great severance package based on evidence of how badly they had wanted me to teach for them, and how abrupt my severance was.  My unemployment kicked in a few days after the settlement came in, and with the new income stacking up in the bank I decided to take off the entire teaching year and just sort of gather my thoughts, perhaps think about another line of work (such as Securities).  That's when COVID hit hard, more forced unemployment for some, a continuation for me.  Our government paid us to stay home and I applied for my teacher's retirement a bit early to ensure that I really didn't need to go back to work even through the end of what was already promising to be the strangest year this planet has ever encountered.

Sometime in the summer I realized I didn't know enough about trading securities to make an actual impact when I decided to go into the field. I began studying the fringes of the industry, and put my mind to work on getting to know everything I could about securities such as bonds, stock, mutuals, and T-bills. I wanted to know everything possible. I'm still in the middle of learning everything I can, but the good news is I am able to study at home and work from home selling insurance (Life, Health, P&C, and Workers Comp) as a 1099 producer - - enter Allstate.   

Allstate agents often hire producers and service managers on a salary basis to get them through tough times and then they routinely let them go so they save money and the producer has been paid, so no one is upset with the other party. That's what I've been doing for the past 3 months, and that assignment will end on Christmas Eve....Merry Christmas, you've lost your job!  It's OK, it was a temp thing. I expected to lose it around mid-January, so what's a few days? Earlier in the summer I accepted a two-week assignment that turned into a month! I was not selling anything; I was literally putting pieces of paper into their rightful place.  A little-known company had allowed their filing to become such a mess that it was causing them to lose business when they couldn't find the papers they needed for an unexpected audit. I took over the chore, and by takeover I mean I TOOK OVER and forced the actual people in the office to back the hell off so I could get their files in shape! It was one of the most fun jobs I'd ever done simply because I made it MINE and refused to back down! Those auditors were NEVER going to say they couldn't find what they needed after I got finished with that filing room/disaster.  

So here we are on the last week of the year 2020.  I look around my house and there isn't a single Christmas decoration in my house unless you count the ONE wrapped present that I just finished wrapping for my son and his wife.  We don't have a tree, we don't have garland, we don't have bells, whistles, ornaments, tinsel, or elves.  Laura and I spend our money on horses, feed, board, tack, saddles, vet bills and the like, so we don't have time or money to clutter the house with needless merriment, however we do really enjoy going out and looking at lights, decorations, trees, other people's stuff, and making a big deal going to see Santa with kids or friends who take their pets.  This year that's been rather sparse to be honest. We've seen one Santa and we've had one evening out going to see the lights in the park - - but it was incredible, I'll say that. 

ONE present was wrapped this year. That just made me laugh.  Because of apps like Venmo, PayPal, Amazon Prime, and others, I just didn't really need to buy an actual present for anyone.  I gave my daughter Caity my FitBit Versa 2, I wasn't using it.  I paid for Laura's board, and I gave Reuben and his wife Josie tickets to the most sought-after game for the Oklahoma Sooner season; the Bedlam match up with Oklahoma State! The grands will of course be gifted, but that's a Venmo thing to their mom and dad and I always wait until after Christmas to get Brandon his present to see what he didn't get - - it's a thing. It's our thing.  ONE FREAKING PRESENT is all I wrapped and I didn't have to do that, but I did decide that Josie needed more than the OU tickets since she's not really a fan.   

I wasn't put out like most were during 2020. The lockdowns and mask wearing were certainly annoying, but I only played at it, I didn't really lockdown, quarantine or even social distance that much. I rarely don a mask, and if I do I pull it down as soon as possible. I can't let the sheep mentality get me down, I've got too much to do.  I am hoping 2021 brings a bit more UPLIFTING news...uplifting being the key word. I'm looking for the RAPTURE!  There's simply NOTHING this world holds for me, and I just figure it's time to leave it - - while the leaving is good.  Here's hoping we see Jesus really soon.  I am ret-ta-go.  

Not Gonna Catch Me in the Belly of a Whale!

 This will be rather short and to the point. I was asked today why it is that I continue to love and pray for someone who seemingly isn't interested in me either praying or loving him.  I had to laugh.  The subject of my prayers and love (not affectionate love, mind you, but honest love), has absolutely no authority whatsoever to ask me to stop praying for him and he has zero authority to ask me to stop loving him. It really isn't his choice - - anymore than it is MY choice. I did NOT choose to love him. I did NOT choose to pray for him. I did NOT ask for this assignment, but as I have said both to myself and others, you will NEVER catch me sleeping in the belly of a whale because I didn't do what God asked me to do. NOPE. Not this girl. I am never ever going to be treading water hoping to drown before a fish finds me and decides to keep me "safe" just long enough to erode my skin, starve me, dehydrate me to the point of exhaustion before dragging me up and down deep waters on a loopty-loop fish-rollercoaster while I have only the strength to pray and ask God for His forgiveness! I will ALWAYS do what I am asked to do; and if that means I get into the closet and pray for someone who I've never met - - seems pretty easy to me! That's what I'm going to do.  It just feels really really good not to be all slimy with my hair full of fish mucus and so blinded by the absolute darkness that I can't see my hands folded in prayer before my face.

NO THANK YOU - - the man can go about his day to day, he can be who he's supposed to be, he doesn't have to contact me, he doesn't have to even KNOW that he's being prayed for. His mission is not my mission, and my mission is not his mission. I am going to do what I was asked to do, and I'm going to do it the best of my abilities because God was great and gave me the foresight to know when to pay attention to Him! Believe me, I've seen the gills in the past as they swam right past me. I know how close I've come to being considered BAIT. No thank you. I will just keep my feet dry and my soul connected to God.  It just seems to work out best for me when I do.  God will let the man know if God thinks the man needs to know. If the man argues with God because I'm praying for him, well all I can say is...belly up friend, hope you go down easy without too much of a fight.  I wouldn't wish the belly of a fish on anyone! God has HIS way of getting our full attention, doesn't He?