Because 'Merica!

 MY GOODNESS, I wish I had taken his picture!  Laura and I were walking into Winco, the grocery store about a mile or so from our place.  We typically shop there because they have an amazing bulk section where I can literally get whey protein by the pound and not have to pay exorbitant prices for it at the health food stores or even Walmart. I think it's 100% the same recipe sans sugar, and it's one-fourth the cost! I'm not lying, but whey protein powder is NOT what this blog is about; not by a long shot. 

Laura and I walked into the store and just as we approached the door we both (almost without thinking about it) reached into our purses to pull out those stupid masks that don't work, and no one believes could possibly really save a single life, but there are those who are still a bit sheepy and a bit nervous about stepping up and thinking for themselves; we'll leave it at that. I don't need to get all political on you. As we were about to put our masks on our faces  - there he was in all of his wonderful, big, bearded, beautiful, brutish self.  If he had been wearing a kilt, he would have been sent by God directly to me, I know this, but no, he was wearing his Wranglers, and on the right hip of those denim gloves, he wore a leather holster with a loaded .357 (pearl-handled in fact).  He was glorious! Thank you, Mr. Patriot. 

Mr. Patriot was about 6'2" tall, weighing in at somewhere between 215 and 230 pounds. He had a clean-cut but his face was majestically hairy - - we're talking several inches of free-flowing beardedness - - I gave this man a head nod and said "Thank you" out loud in front of God and everyone. I pointed at his gun when I said it. I asked him if the truck outside with all the American flags flying all around it was his truck. He stated it was not, but that he had seen it, and wanted to know where he could pick up a three-pronged flag holder for his truck's bumper! I thought maybe BassPro would have it, but I'm sure he can order it. I don't have a truck - - but the free-flowing American flags draping and cascading are fabulous representations of how my heart felt when I watched the man walk into Winco without his mask.  THANK YOU AGAIN, Mr. Patriot. It gave me the courage I needed to put my mask back into my purse, and of course, Laura followed suit.  

We were not alone.  As we walked throughout the store many other people saw us, gave us the nod, turned to their friends, partners, children, whomever they were with, and they began demasking! It only took ONE good Patriot to stand up. I'm rather ashamed that it wasn't me, to begin with, but I was in compliant mode I guess; not anymore.  I'm fed up with the masks, I'm done with being bullied. I have asthma. I'm not even supposed to be hassled if I don't wear a face mask, but hassled I am. I have been told I can't shop at Winco, Target, Kohl's, Best Buy, and other stores if I am not wearing my stupid mask. Funny how the Tractor Supplies, feed stores, tack stores, and car dealerships don't make you wear one.  There's someone at Best Buy's door to turn you away.  I realize the poor souls are just doing their job, but the bosses and owners need to realize we, the customers, keep the doors open!

Bless the big man's heart! He walked slowly, even methodically through Winco with his head up straight and tall. His tight tight veteran's t-shirt proudly proclaiming his patriotism, and the fact that he had given several years of his life defending his and my right to shop, eat, drive, dine, work, and interact with others freely and without fear of the government overstepping onto our Constitutional rights.  Not one manager, not one employee, not one customer said a word to any of us about our choice to be maskless - - thank you, again. I have to say thank you because it's the way things should be. If someone feels the need to wear their own mask, so be it, but it's like trying to tell me I have to pray to someone other than God, it's just not going to happen; if I had things my way everyone would pray to Jehovah YHWH; no one else. 

THANK YOU, to every single person, American or not, who is willing to stand up for themselves and make the statement that they are going to live without fear. We didn't shut the world down for the flu, we didn't shut it down for diabetes.  We didn't shut it down for any good reason whatsoever; and we were bullied into going against what we knew intellectually was false - - no more.  Don't Tread on ME!

Gosh Darn, I LOVE my Bankers.

 Last month my banker called me to say she saw some suspicious activity on my account. It's not as if she was going over my account personally; no, I am sure they have an A.I. out there routinely servicing their clients' account searching for purchases that just don't seem like they "belong" to the patron; and that's exactly what it was. Some banks send you an email, some may simply note the account, keep an eye out and let you know only if it becomes a habit or pattern, but not my bank. Nope.  My gal was calling me and saying in her sweet Southern accent, "Hey Jude, I think I see something on your account that doesn't make a lick of sense. Did you download anything from the UK recently?" The truth is that I had actually done that, but right behind the CD I had downloaded came two and maybe even three attempts to withdraw another amount, this time for services to an anti-virus protector but my banker was saying that it appeared that the two transactions were linked. (Turns out she was mistaken, but it did appear that way since the UK download was in fact from Scotland, and the anti-virus purchase was from England) 

To be honest, the entire event was both upsetting and confusing as I knew the singer/artist whose CD I had just downloaded; knew him by reputation, and felt 100% certain that he would never have anything to do with the fraudulent acts that may or may not have been attached to his PayPal account as it was being evaluated by my bank's investigators.  I let the man know immediately, and yeah, it was a bit embarrassing and maybe I could have been more subtle about it; looking back, I may have escalated his fears to a degree, but better safe than sorry.  My bank immediately notified INTERPOL and they also gave my money back to me, changed the card I have with them and contacted PayPal to let them know their A.I. would place PayPal on a 180-day fraud alert to let them know they've got my back! I was happy. It's not every day every bank is so thorough and/or thoughtful.

I've always had a good rapport with my bankers! In Indianapolis I could be seen standing at the counter inside the Kroger store, where my bank was located, just talking and chatting it up with one of the 6 bankers that worked the small station.  We ate out together, shopped together, brought small acceptable gifts to each other at birthdays, anniversaries. I even found a job for the wife of one of my bankers, and to my knowledge, after so many years, she's still working for the school district.  Sometimes it's not what you know, but who you know, and my bankers have always been supportive of my volunteer work, my rescues, you name it, if they could get involved and help the community in one way or the other, they did. I've never banked at larger banks either; that's the difference. I would rather work with smaller groups of people who are people-oriented and want to be the change! It always helps to know your banker's birthday and kid's names when you come up short on a payment to something too; they can spot you a quick loan for a day! Whew! That's happened more than once.

Yesterday I got another call from my banker -- this time it seems that someone I paid through PayPal again, was unable to get the money I sent because of the fraud alert. You guessed it, she lived in the UK, and had never used PayPal before, so my bank's A.I. picked up on the less than standard behavior of the transaction and put a hold on the amount I paid out to the artist for her newly released CD. She thought it was her fault and was greatly embarrassed having to contact me to ask for payment before sending the CD. I don't blame her! You don't give out your life's work on a promise - - no, she was 100% correct, but then again, so was my bank!  I guess we just live in troubled times where anyone and everyone is trying to one-up or outdo the system some way or another. Well, it all got straightened out and even though it took me driving 7 miles to sign a waiver, it was worth it to know I'm not only protected, but I'm loved as well.  My gal Linda offered me a sweet sugary cinnamon bun for my trouble. There's a bakery next door to the bank, and yes, for my trouble of having to drive up to the bank in person, she went next door and bought me this big, fat, juicy, sticky, oh-so-wonderful pastry!! Goodness, I love my bankers!

I could go on and on about them, and maybe I'll stop by and take a photo of them to print in my book if they're allowed to be photographed and mentioned by name. You have to go through Legal and be sure you're not out of compliance you know -- but let me tell you, no A.I. is as warm and fuzzy as any one of my sweet bankers - - and that goes for any one of them I've ever been associated with. You just can't beat real people with real faces, real hearts, real commitment, and true friendliness - - No, you just can't. Even during the pandemic, when we had to use the drive-through we were cracking jokes, giving air-fist-bumps through the windows, and holding up cards and notes to each other saying "LOVE YOU" or "CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU IN PERSON INSIDE!"  It was just awful not being able to stand around and chat for 20 or 30 minutes at a time, have a cup of coffee and just go over the accounts and catch up on our lives!  We survived.  They were troopers!  Thank you, Bankers. THANK YOU.

Inkened

 I don't always hang out with Satanists, in fact, I rarely do, but when I do it's just one and she's my tattoo artist. I won't give her name because she hasn't given me permission to do so; besides that, I am currently praying for her salvation, so I don't want to either embarrass her or cause someone to interfere with that work that is in progress.  I believe a good witness is an important thing when you've entered into a place absolutely known for housing evil spirits, demons, and the like. Being a Christian, it's not a sin to get a tattoo, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there are not a lot of parlors out there that give both inkened memories on your bicep and a devotional service for your soul -- just sayin'.

First, let me tell you that the first time I met my tattoo artist she was at the store and she had just finished inking a man's calf with the words "JESUS SAVES", she mentioned it in passing, and I asked her if it was difficult or hard on her to do it since she was working quite literally under a five-foot by five-foot blanket type banner in her room that had the image of the goat-man Devil himself with the words "THE DEVIL" printed under the statue.  She stated that it wasn't difficult to do professionally, but she knows when the two-spirit worlds collide in her room and her "space" because she said they seem to tear at each other pretty badly and she can feel the pull. 

She then turned to me and asked me if it was going to be OK being in that room while she worked on my tattoo, and I laughed. I told her yes, because as a Christian, I'm protected and it's not me that has to move at the name of Lucifer, but in fact the demons (and Lucifer) must flee at the name of Jesus. I was good -- and it put her at ease to know I wasn't going to lecture her about her choices. Why lecture when I can pray? I told her I'd pray for her, and she even thanked me. I thought about giving her my address so she could go feed my dogs and cats after the rapture, but I didn't want to totally offend her and end up with "666" on my arm.  Besides, I do want her to change her mind and heart and join me in that event!

I went into the store today to have her do my new tattoo, which is a Celtic Cross with a sort of loopy design to it, and there is a purple-headed thistle running through the cross, sort of sticking out to the side.  She didn't listen to me when she was designing it, and had to redo the design; which ended up taking too long, and I had to reschedule, but now she'll have the cross in her room (in a file) for a few days and maybe that'll help her understand that even the image of the cross can play a role in her (hopeful) surrender to Jesus. I hope she will accept Him, and I hope she'll remain where she is because she's incredibly talented, but yeah she can replace the wall hanging - - maybe something a bit less demonic! I'm not saying she has to put up a poster of the Resurrection or anything, but more and more Christians are going into these places to be inked up - - why not cater to your clientele? 

Anyway, I may or may not end up with the cross being on my forearm as I had first imagined it; she insisted that putting it where I wanted it made the cross appear to be upside-down, while I was saying I could lift up my arm to show it to anyone - - she would know more about upside-down crosses than I would so I decided to think about it a few more days and let the thing sit in her room for a minute to do God's work.  Maybe this weekend I'll swing by and have it put on my upper arm so that there's no argument about the orientation of the cross -- I don't want anyone seeing my tat and thinking I'm a Satanist too! Nope, that's not going to work for me.  I can wait, and make a decision. I may end up not getting it, and just leaving it in her room! Ha! Take that demon blanket thing! In your face!

I Can Make That Without Lookin'

 When you're a cook you cook, and when you're a mom you mom, so there I am most of the evenings every week, just being a mom and cooking. Laura is so sweet, she's not only my daughter, she's my roommate; so she has to eat what I cook when I cook it, and she's not allowed to complain about it. It wouldn't do her any good to complain because I don't listen to anyone if they get it in their heads to cut down my abilities to mix up something tasty in the kitchen. I don't have to brag, bragging is for amateurs, No, what I do is tell the truth, then I pull out things from the fridge and the cabinets, whip something up from the scratch ingredients (always without measuring because it pisses my friend off when I do that) and I just shove the food under the noses of anyone who hasn't ordered from a take out menu. Sometimes I'm cooking for one, sometimes I'm cooking for two or three, but I usually end up making enough for five or six just in case. You always want to be prepared for the extra kid walking through the door if one or the other of them texted their sibling to say "Mom's cooking tonight".

I mean sure, I can do something easy like pasta and meat sauce, that's one of those things you do in your sleep, but I prefer to find a good recipe online and just wing it to see what happens. You never know. I don't have an Instapot yet; thinking about buying one, but I'm not sure I want to form that habit. I rather enjoy chopping, simmering, saute', boiling, broiling, grilling, etc. I like the time it takes to be in the kitchen fussing over what I'm presenting to those that I love; call me old-fashioned, but yeah, there's a bit of truth to the fact that a mom likes to be needed and where else can she feel more needed than in the kitchen at supper time? 

I decided to look up a curry recipe online and found one that was detailed enough to try and make sense of it. The only problem is, I'm the only one in my household at the moment that will eat curry. If I want to share it I have to call Caity and Brandola over, schedule it, wait for the day to arrive and hope they don't change their minds about driving 110 miles to my house to try my new curry recipe. They kept their word and I was able to spin up a big mess of Charlie Bigham's Chicken Curry with rice and a side salad, that happened to look a great deal like a typical garden salad with spinach since I wasn't successful at finding a few of the needed ingredients to be incredibly cool.  I had to settle for damn cool, which is almost as good - - Charlie Bigham's Chicken Curry recipe is found at https://www.bighams.com/products/product/thai-red-chicken-curry-fragrant-rice/  Now, to be honest with you, it's supposed to be served with coconut rice, but my family, being Southern as the day is long, and a bit too chicken themselves to try too many good things; did not deign to allow me to really impress them. I have to live with this. 

Suffice it to say we had a great meal that could have been even better, and it will be better when I live by myself and don't feel that I have to cater to these inexperienced palates that refuse to expand their horizons - - they can't blame me; I did all I could to stir up a stir fry, mix up a mixed bag, toss up a tossed salad with various varieties of otherworldly entrancing and appetizingly pleasant foodery. They have only themselves to blame - - or in Brandon's case, he can blame others, but not me. He cannot blame me. I love Brandon. He never turns down anything I decide to make even if it sounds like something he would see in a Sci-Fi flick -- he just always nods, smiles, and agrees. I love Brandon.

Laura? Well, that's another story. She's a Taurus.  If she hasn't eaten it at least 50 times she refuses to try it, and if she hasn't seen it, smelt it, been around it, heard about it, read about it, or thought about it, she won't think of attempting it. She's the one at the other end of the table watching her sister and brother in law poke and fork up chunks of red curry and peas, waiting for one or the other of them to die before she decides to add my red curry chicken to her list of things she may try when she's older; much older. She has to let it stew a minute first - - and by a minute I mean a year or two. Laura will however clean up the rice and salad; those are safe. Sometimes I think I'll just give her away but I'm too afraid I'll miss her little redhead; and I give in, allowing her to talk me into making pasta and meat sauce -- AGAIN.

Boring kid.

I Can Twerk, People!

 Woot!  Here I was thinking I was just not that cool because I couldn't twerk, but nope, that is not the case now folks!  I can in fact TWERK, but I will be honest with you, I can only do it if I'm standing on the new LifePro Waver vibration plate that I just purchased. The dang thing weighs 35 pounds, and it was a bear to drag up the stairs when the delivery man brought it to me.  EASY to set up, just plug it in, hook up the jump rope type straps they give you, and turn it on! The power button turns it on, the start button starts the vibration plate moving, and you pick and choose your time and speed.  I am used to moving a bit, so I set it at 10 minutes (recommended time from the chiropractor) and I set the speed at 30.  The LifePro goes up to 99, but hey, I wanted to be sure I didn't rattle my brains out at 30 before moving on to actually rattling my brains out of my head. I may need my brains for, later on, to be honest.

So, there I was, trying not to concentrate on the timer because time slows to a freaking crawl when I'm on the vibration plate.  I do a solid minute and I think I'm done! I glance down between my knees to see the timer and I guess at that point I had to bend a bit to peek past the boobs, and that's when it happened; I TWERKED!  Oh my freakin' gosh, my body twerks!  Well, I didn't care how much time I had left, I was just too happy about my butt moving up and down and side to side at the same time (with or without my assistance) it was real!  I did what everyone would expect me to do; I called for Laura to get out of bed and watch me twerk! Not lying, she refused. I literally had to twerk alone, by myself, except for the fat cat Sammy, he was interested - - more in the fact that I was laughing I think, but he was still within eyeshot, and I asked him his opinion.  He's a cat. He got bored and walked away.

I glanced to the right, over to the dining room table, and I saw another of our three cats, this one Baeleigh. She was sitting, sort of laying, in her little box-bed which sits on the dining room table. We don't actually eat at the dining room table, and the cat needed a place to call her own. It's like a "base" from the other two cats, which are both males.  Bae is the Queen of course, and she is the ruling cat, but the boys don't always remember this. I asked Bae what she thought about my new ability to twerk; she was less impressed than Sammy - - but what can I expect from a Queen? I am now the master of my own destiny when it comes to working the glutes, my friend. I can, and I will be dancing, moving, shaking, riding, cycling, and even standing on the floor squatting with weights, but this butt will be glorious! (You can't see me laughing, I'm laughing, and once again, Sammy has made an appearance. He's such a weirdo.)

LifePro makes a few vibration plates. I first used one years ago at the chiropractor's office, and when I went for a recent adjustment she had one. I asked if there were commercial machines out there that a person could buy for the home that wasn't cheap or would fall apart. She recommended the LifePro and she stated there were several I could choose from regarding size, durability, price, etc.  I went with the Waver, as it fits in my budget and dining room -- remember, we don't eat there. I should call it something else.  Let me see, the cat sleeps there, we store things we're sending off to Caity in the mail, and we let groceries sit there until they can be placed in the appropriate cabinet.  The bike is stored there, as is the step ladder, but now the vibration plate -- the dining room is a catch-all, but that's too generic; it has to be something more captivating.  I'll think of something. The Marvel Room, yeah, that's it. The Marvel Room. I suppose we could call it the "Throne Room" since Bae Bae resides in her box on top of the table - - yes, the Throne Room it is.

Back to me twerking! For years I have embarrassed both myself and my children attempting to do the Miley Cyrus signature move, but it was to no avail. I was worse at twerking than I am at drawing and you have no idea how hideous things can look until you see my rendition of an image; no idea. The word "suck" is just too gentle for my drawing talents, there are no words for how badly I draw. Bad as my drawings may be,  my butt just simply would not cooperate (and still doesn't if I'm not on the plate at 30 or better.) Today is the day I claim my twerkness! No one other than Laura really gets to see it - - unless Caity comes over, maybe Jeannie, Niki, or Robin, I'll deign to allow them to view my butt antics. (No boys allowed)  I should video it when I get to my goal weight -- that would be awesome; maybe...but what will the cats think?  It may look strange, me trying to twerk, bend, and hold the phone just right to get the angle - - who cares? It will be glorious!

Life Dawns on Me From Time to Time

 EVERY now and again I will come out of my constant fantasy world to realize that I have three cats and two dogs living with me in my apartment in the middle of a relatively urban city.  Then, as if that's not enough, I also realize that I share this habitat with another creature altogether; one I am thankful that God only made one of them in the first place; my daughter Laura.  She's way past the age of kicking out of the house so I just consider her a roommate.  I mean, she is a roommate, she pays half of the bills (almost) and she eats most of my food; like a roommate.  One thing I truly appreciate about the kid is that she never puts notes on "her" food that reads "Don't touch this, or I'll break your damn fingers".  That's a plus.

The cats are the cats. I live with them, they exist, they co-mingle, they rule. It's understood by all of us, it's accepted, and we move forward.  There is a rule, however, a rule in our house that we (you or me) can not disturb a dog if one is laying on a person, next to (touching) a person, that person is given a pass to ask anyone else in the household who is NOT covered or in contact with a dog, to get a drink, feed them, answer the door, get the mail, do whatever would be considered a community errand were it not for the fact that that person is now incapacitated by the presence of a dog who must not be disturbed.  In our house, this rule does not apply to cats; cats don't count.  Also, the dogs have ruling status so that if the dog I am holding or next to is "senior" to the other dog(s) in the household, I am, therefore, by proxy, the senior loafer and can give orders to anyone not holding a dog or one who is, but whose dog is inferior or junior to my own. Does ANY of this make sense to you? If it does, welcome. If it does not, well, you may want to re-read that paragraph before coming over for tea; just sayin' and if you DO come over for tea, be smart about it, and grab the senior dog.

Right now, as I type,  Baeleigh, the black and white tuxedo cat with the skin condition no one can pinpoint, is laying across my keyboard. You may or may not realize the difficulty this puts me in while I type this Blogspot. She is the senior cat, however, and my own rules about not disturbing dogs do apply to me when it comes to Bae. I just don't expect anyone else to follow that particular rule. She is the Queen - - long live the Queen.  At the time of this writing, Bae is 9 years old. 

My current job as an author allows me the freedom I need to dream, conjure, fantasize, make-believe, and basically slack off as much as I want to; this can't be a permanent luxury, but it is mine for the taking at the moment, so yes, I'm taking full and open advantage of it. I even pretend I'm pretending during some lull-moments of the day just so I can keep up with my personal expectation of what a leisurely author should or should not be doing.  I find myself cleaning the house and I stop myself to pretend I have a maid. I pretend to be said maid (who I have named Irene) and I clean the kitchen, do the dishes, sweep, mop, empty trash, and change out litter boxes.  I may pretend to be the butler and answer the door if someone knocks on it; why would a would-be successful author deign to get off the couch and answer the door? I can send one of my "people".  Ha! Just writing that out loud makes it seem as if I've lost my marbles, but that would purport that I had marbles, to begin with, doesn't it?

I need to name my cook too; I don't think Irene cooks.  I want bacon and eggs right now and I don't have anyone to make that happen - - Oh wait, I do!  I can literally step over to the bed and grab Ginger, though not the senior dog, she is within arm's reach, and I'm betting that Laura is on her computer because I can hear her screaming at her little sister; words a mom would really never accept if the two of them were in the same room, but it's Grand Theft Auto I think; that or Red Dead Redemption.  Laura will do my bidding -- she has to; I have the dog.  Her only option would be to find Yuuki, her dog, the older dog, the senior dog, and put him on her lap - - and she won't do that because she would DIE in the game! YES...I will win this one.  She will NOT die, as she will be able to express her frustration of obeying family ruling to her tiny sibling; who will then suspend all murdering events on the game long enough for me to be fed. I am so smart sometimes...yes, this is a good, good plan.

I love reality! (sometimes)

"Failure Is the Flavor of Success"

     I didn't write the saying "Failure is the Flavor of Success" and I don't know who did, or I would give them credit for having said it.  The truth is, I failed today. I took an SIE (Securities Industry Exam) for the purpose of eventually obtaining my securities license so I can trade on the secondary markets for stocks and bonds. I made a 62% on a test that requires a 70% passing score.  The thing is, I wasn't bummed about it; instead, I look at it as a stepping stone on the path to becoming a successful trader.  I am just not one at the moment.  Because I don't worry about things and have been living stress-less for years, I decided to regroup rather than retreat. It's the stubborn woman living inside of me, but I won't allow myself to give up or quit anything. I will pass this test soon.

    I could give a whole bunch of excuses and say that the test was harder than I expected, but it wasn't. It was just as hard as I expected it to be; I just wasn't as prepared for it, and that's another "it's OK" moment because now I realize that I should have taken more time studying rules and regulations and less time studying the options themselves.  The more you know, the more you can achieve. If I had known what was on the actual test I would have been more prepared, but NOW I'm more prepared and won't spend as much time on other topics. It's strictly about rules, regulations, and how products work! That's the ticket. I think I will make at least a 70%, at least a passing score, next time, but hopefully even more than that. The thing is though; if you pass they don't tell you what your score is; only that you passed! If you fail, they tell you exactly what you failed at and what your non-passing score is - - in my case, I got 53 of the 85 questions correct.  

    I came home and explained to my daughter that all throughout the test I made little tally marks on the scratch paper that they give you.  I made a mark for every question I flat out knew I knew, and I marked it in the "KNEW" column.  There were two other columns I could use as well - - "I DON'T KNOW"  and "MAYBE".  The Maybe column is literally what it sounds like; I may be right, but I have only a fraction of faith in myself; the I Don't Know column is anyone's guess and was certainly my guess. I gave it my best, but you just have to concede at some point, that you just don't know what you thought you knew -- or you just don't know what you know you don't know. I did not know over 30% of the exam, if I were completely honest with you.

    The study guide I used is called PassPerfect, and they really do prepare a person if that person takes the necessary time to go over the questions, the videos, the mastery exams, and then if they review every question they missed - - that would be awesome.  Life happens, you get busy, you fail yourself, I fail myself, and we just end up having to reschedule, restructure, re-do and relax. Life is a roller coaster at times, and there are those times when it free falls and you just can't stop it. We move forward. It will happen! I have no doubt whatsoever that I'll get back into the study materials tomorrow, and go over every flashcard, eliminating the ones I don't need now that I know what I know, and keep those that I have no idea about, and those I could maybe possibly know something about. It's a plan. There is always a plan.

I plan to pass!

I Find Things

 I don't know what it is about me, but I am a thing-magnet. I find things all the time and end up having to call the owners and say something like, "Hey, I found your wallet at the feed store, where do you live and I'll bring it to you?"  Usually, when this sort of thing happens, the other person is shocked clean out of their minds, and they can't believe someone is willing to bring them their lost or stolen item.  I love it. I absolutely LOVE IT because it means I have an opportunity to say that Jesus has blessed me so many times, and when I lose something I know He'll provide the same type of courtesy to me that I show to someone else.  That's been my experience anyway.

This time, (and you can't see me over here laughing) I had to stop posting to answer the third call that the guy made to us to be sure we're not lying to him; he just can't get over how anyone would (a) find the wallet (it was a wallet that I found) (b) go through the wallet to find his correct name and address (c) having found his address, and realizing he is from another state, would try finding him on Facebook (d) having found him on Facebook, would message him and say "Hey, I found your wallet at the feed store, if you tell me where you are right now I can bring it to you."  Well, he doesn't know me very well, that's for sure, because there is nothing else I would ever do! I could not, I would not, and I should not throw someone else's property away. I would never keep it either. I would never take a penny from it, I would never stalk him further than was necessary to find out who he is - - but Laura did! LOL

Laura found out through his Facebook posts that he's not only a bleeding heart Liberal voter, but he did also in fact vote for Joe Biden for president and now the man (owner) is really upset with himself and says if he had to do it again, he'd vote Trump!  I thought that was funny, so she read a few more posts to me while I drove the car.  Turns out the man is Cajun, from Texas, moved to Oklahoma recently, has purebred dogs that he was selling, that's why he was at the feed store, and get this, he's so anti-everything we believe in or stand for.  You couldn't have found someone with more different views. At least he's a Christian man, or at least he states he is on Facebook. We'll have eternity to laugh about what we put ourselves and others through on this Earth thinking and feeling we were always right to think or feel that way we did.

Laura wrote to him on Facebook to let him know we found his wallet, and before we would agree to give it to him he needed to verify his middle name. He did verify his middle name (on the license) and she called him.  He was surprised that a person (Laura this time, not me) who was so different from himself would be so kind. She told him she was raised correctly. I told her we were both raised correctly, and that Jesus does things like this so we can share His word.  Laura mentioned this to the man, and he laughed, agreeing with us, and saying that he was very grateful that Jesus led us to his wallet and not someone who would take money, credit cards, throw away pictures you can never replace, and of course licenses, banking information - - you name it.  

Interestingly, his Facebook posts could be considered racist; but he stated that you can't be racist toward a white person. I find that to be both racist and offensive; and here we are, returning his wallet, not stealing a dime, and thankful that he will be able to get on with his life without the inconveniences of having to cancel cards, get a new ID, etc.  He laughed a second (or third) time when he found out we were Trump supporters.  "Really? Are you serious?"  He asked.  "Yes, we are, and the only reason I mention it is because of what you said on your wall. You said we were all crackhead crazy.  I'm not really all that crazy, just maybe a little bit", was Laura's answer.  He apologized and said,"Well, you know what? That's God right there. He knows I need to change my heart about things. He knows I have been too critical of others, and this just proves it. I'm sorry."  

Recently, maybe over the past year or so, I've found two wallets, a few dogs with and without collars, a horse blanket that was worth well into the $$$, and I found a shoe that was literally just randomly placed in a marked parking spot where I live. I knew the shoe didn't belong to the owner of the parking spot, he was a man, this was a smaller woman's shoe, and something about it told me to leave it where it was, but take photos of it, and let the manager know.  When I did let the manager know, she mentioned that the police had been by earlier asking about a kidnapped woman who may have lost her right shoe. The woman was found (safe) and now the cops knew that she could have been taken by someone who lived in our complex or at least knew someone who lived in the complex. To my knowledge the shoe was returned; I can't say the same for all of the dogs. Some were rehomed when no one claimed them.

So, one down, and God only knows what to expect, or how many more to go. I'm here if He needs me. I count it a blessing since I know I've been silly enough to leave my purse (and other things) on top of my car before I took off without them -- the struggle is real.

The Blog Book -- It's a Real Thang!

 Check it out! My new book is a real thing! I will submit the manuscript on Monday, in just a few days, but the cover is out now. The design company at Palmetto Publishing did a bang-up good job. I didn't ask for anything specific, trying to keep it as simple and as creative for them as possible. I am the writer, they are the cover masters, so I don't want to invade into their space even if it is my book; I feel that they are professionals, otherwise I would not have hired them to publish my baby - - my first blog book.  I've written five books now; no, that's not true, I've written so many more than five, but I've published five books now, and this one is not about Faith, my dog, but she is mentioned in it of course.  This one is a collection of stories literally pulled from this very site.  I didn't ask the design crew to come up with a color scheme either, but I am bowled over that they went with blue and gold lettering!  I LOVE it. 

I have about 700 blogs on the site, and I pulled about 100 out to make Vol. 1.  I added 15 poems, and I stationed them in the middle of the book, separating Part 1 and Part 2.  I didn't specify or make any fuss over what went into Part 1 or Part 2.  I could have put the blogs in chronological order but decided against it. I want the book to be something anyone can pick up, read a bit, maybe three or four blogs, and then set the book down and come back for more. I did (and/or will) add a Table of Contents, and the publishing company will paginate the book for me adding the correct numbered page for each blog -- good thing  I paid for that; what a headache! 

What I did not pay for is an additional editing master.  I am using Grammarly to go through the book myself, but you and I both know I'll miss something and that OK. As a human, as a creative human, I don't mind making mistakes and I certainly don't mind anyone pointing out my mistakes if they are in fact mine. I own them. I think it's OK to be less than stellar and still make your point.  As a professor of English, former professor of English, I would not have allowed many mistakes to be presented in a graded essay or prose, but in a book - sure; it is what it is.  The best of us use a ghost to clean up our little messes grammatically; I just chose to use Grammarly than to pay an additional $$$ for their premiere editing program, which I'm sure is either Grammarly or something very similar.  (Did I mention I was Scottish? I don't spend money unless I have to.) 

So today is February 24th; the cover is out. I'll submit the manuscript on March 1, after I attend my first 405 Contouring session. If the light contouring works I'll blog about that, and if it doesn't work I'll be sure to blog about that fact. I wanted to add the story to the book- - as it is part of my transformation into a new creature. The butterflies on the cover of the book are a GREAT way to illustrate my life changes right now. I'm going through a wonderful transformation from being old to being young again; using prayer and everything available to me to feel, look, act, and be much younger than the calendar says. I have lost over 35 pounds so far, slimmed up, trimmed up, changed my style, changed my hair, changed my outlook -- and I'm really feeling great about it. Life is just too short to feel too old. I was not cut out for geriatrics.  I so much prefer being Jude instead.  I hope you like the book - - I loved writing it. 

I Wish I Could Rescue Them All

Between Angie Koontz-Pike, Robin Moorhead, Laura, and myself, we've probably rescued more than 1,000 horses, mules, donkeys, ponies, goats, dogs, cats, and cows over the past few years. It's a thing, not a competition, but if it were a competition, Angie would beat us all!  Not only does she have the truck, trailer, and acreage to host over 200 animals at one time, she has the 501(c) 3 non-profit status to back her up, and THANK YOU, JESUS, for that, because there have been moments when we (meaning Laura, and I) will make the same mistakes Robin makes, and go out onto Facebook and look on the kill pen sites, you know, "just to see what's out there", right! No one ever goes onto the kill pen sites thinking they won't find something that has to be taken home right then, and right there.  I can usually resist, but that Robin, Lord have mercy!  I think I'm being 100% honest when I say she even named one Merci. Merci currently lives with Angie. Did I mention that Angie has wings and can be seen playing the harp now and then? She's our rescue angel - - and we love her. 

I can't tell you how many times I have called Angie up on the phone, texted her when she didn't answer, and then emailed her if she refused to text me back!  If I still can't reach her I've gone through Messenger, but let me tell you, I am not over and above getting into my little Seamus (car) and driving my happy ass over to her place in the far outreaches of the country and unhooking her gate lock to hunt her down to tell her we simply MUST drive up to Stroud THIS VERY MINUTE (of course, bring the truck and trailer) and we have to save Reagan! We have to save Zahara! We have to save Ava!  We have to save Sable! We have...you get the picture. We are always and forever saving someone, something, or two or three things at once; don't get me wrong, Angie is not so much of an angel that she isn't just as guilty as we are. Yes, she is! The best thing about that is, she doesn't have to drive 40 miles in the pouring rain to tell herself she needs to go RIGHT NOW and save some animal that is being hauled off in a few hours to Mexico to be slaughtered. It's a real thing; and it's just heartbreaking. 

Our vet Sammy Crosby, Jr., not to be confused with his father, our other vet, Sammy Crosby, Sr., is our large animal vet. Sammy Crosby Sr., is our small animal vet. We like to keep things simple.  Sammy Jr. is usually the second person to be notified as soon as we pick up a four-legged, skinnier-than-should-be "poor" creature, who just couldn't be turned away.  Sammy has brought our loads back to life a few dozen times, and when he can't bring them back, he's the best at sending them on their way over the Rainbow Bridge. A job no one wants, but we appreciate his connections with the gatekeepers up that way; so far as we know, no animal has ever been turned away from the Bridge, and we rest so much easier knowing they didn't suffer another day here on this wretched Earth because someone either threw them out for losing a race, threw them out for being pregnant, threw them out because they couldn't produce the right color foal, or threw them out because their daughter went off to college and they didn't want to mess with feeding and watering their kid's animal - - that happens too. 

When Angie is called and she's hooked up that trailer, some animal out there in the wild world will be saved and saved for eternity.  With her connections and her non-profit, horses mostly, but other equine, bovine, canine, and feline will never be sold or given to anyone who may end up dumping their charge back at the kill pen; no way, it just won't happen.  They say you can't save them all, and I get that, but for the ones we can save, we try our best to make the world of difference in their lives that was needed; and we try over and over and over again to the point of eating ramen while we spend $$$ on trimming, chiropractors, vets, livery, floating (teeth work) and more. Every horse deserves to be pampered, right? I say it over and over again; "If God ever lets me come back as something I'll come back as one of Robin Morehead's horses" because that woman knows how to spoil a pony! If I believed in reincarnation, which I don't, I would or could just as easily come back as one of Angie's rescues because I know that my freedom ride will mean I am given a forever chance to live my life the way it was supposed to be lived - with love. 

Thank you, Sissy! I love you! 

To donate to Angie's 501 (c) 3 rescue, you can send money through paypal.com at: Countryphilly2002@gmail.com