How Old Are You?

I get the question nearly every single day and more now that I've lost weight and can be seen either riding my bike, my horse, going to the gym to work out, or just walking the parking lots surrounding my domicile (I like using words that make you grab a dictionary and learn something).  "How old are you?", they want to know. I usually don't mind answering anyone who asks, but it does make me a bit curious as to why they are asking in the first place.  What is age? Is there a certain rule or law that says a person is bound to act a certain way if they happen to be a certain number of years old? I don't think so. I mean, let's face it, some of the people I run into or see at the supermarket are in their 80s or 90s but their driver's licenses say differently. I bet if you give any number of them a physical fitness test or ask them to stop chain-smoking long enough to run a mile on the treadmill they either couldn't do it, wouldn't do it, or probably in most cases, they shouldn't do it. Death by trying to act their age would not be pretty!

I was born in 1961; a year that if you were to turn it upside down would still be 1961. I remember I was about four when I told my mother this and she shook her head at me and told me to play outside! Mom was always telling me to go outside and play and somehow that never offended me. I wasn't all wrapped up in a computer game or watching some show on television that I just couldn't pull myself away from - - mainly, I would say because we didn't have a computer then, they weren't even thought of really, and our television was controlled not by remote, but by my dad who had final say over literally every single thing we kids were to watch -- that's how old I am. I'm old enough to remember that going to church was a blessing and you could always count on seeing your grandparents, uncles, aunts, friends, cousins, and besties there too; who wouldn't want to go to church in Oklahoma? Baptists know how to cook; every last woman in the church grew up in their momma's kitchen, their grandma's kitchen; they cook, they bring it to church, we go, we eat.  I'm that old.

I'm old enough to remember to say "thank you", "please" and "you're welcome". We didn't text our friends to see if they wanted to hang out, we walked to their house and asked them. Hell, we didn't even have to go that far, they were usually outside by the lamppost or the creek and you just hung out, no one asked anyone else to schedule a play date! I'm old enough to remember to pray at the dinner table, and again at night with my family before bedtime. I'm old enough to open the door for you, to expect you to open it for me if I need you to, and I think I'm old enough to say "God bless you" if you sneeze. I'm certainly old enough to remember to stand for my flag, the National Anthem and to show respect when someone much older than me walked by me. I'm that old.

All that being said, I'm nowhere near as old as most of the people I went to school with. I'm eating right, drinking over 100 ounces of water a day, consuming no alcohol, and I don't smoke anything. I used to smoke rolled up Earl Grey tea, but only because it really annoyed my kids when I did it. I'm that old too; I still like to embarrass the tar out of one or the other of them when I can. I'm not so old that I can't dance and dance and dance and dance myself silly over two or three hours a night; after having jammed to my music choices in my headphones for several hours before that. I'm not so old that I have emotional issues either - I pray and I let God have those. I simply will not and do not worry about anything. God said not to fret, I don't fret. Fretting causes wrinkles and dammit, I don't want more wrinkles. I'm old enough to afford prescription creams to take away my wrinkles and I'm nowhere near old enough to allow them to show up where they are not wanted. Not this face! NOPE.

I'm going to meet my goal weight of 140 pounds soon, and when I do I'll likely be younger than I have been in so many years. I don't mean to brag, but this old lady has so much more energy than people half my age, and I have a lot more to look forward to because I won't let my mind sit still long enough to sprout weeds. Sunflowers! I do sunflowers in my brain people! BIG, BRIGHT, happy sunflowers! Who wants to be negative all the time anyway? Moving forward is the only direction a sunflower knows how to move - - UP!

At 58 I decided I was fat. I decided to change that. I changed that. I also decided to teach myself to play guitar, to write the book I knew I needed to write, and to move to Scotland, a place I have wanted to call my own since I was able to spell Scotland. (By the way, I'm old enough to remember card catalogs at the public library, and I had memorized the Dewey decimal system by the time I was 10.) I KNOW where books on Scotland are found at these public libraries - - today I order them online, but there was a time I checked books out and actually returned them! I'm old enough to have been blessed and able to walk to my public library alone at the age of 5 and never expected to be hurt or harmed. Damn, that's old.

I won't slow down, not now. I have no reason to do that. I wouldn't if I had a reason, I'd simply change the rules of the game. If you can't keep up with me you're welcome to sit this one out, but I'm moving -- I'll slow down when Jesus takes me home; that's the plan anyway. How old do you have to be to be able to love yourself and know you're worth every day you've ever lived? That's how old I am. 

Who Put the String in Stringfellow?

 "Buy a cheap guitar", he told me, "I'll teach you how to play it."  That was 1982 and my good friend Edgar Cruz (yes, THAT Edgar Cruz www.edgarcruz.com) has yet to teach me a single chord! I guess life got in the way; we move forward. I think I've owned about half a dozen acoustic guitars since that time, but I just bought another one today! I own Checkers already, and he's my number 1, but he's more or less for show as he's literally checkered black and white, and though he's an Eleca brand, he was purchased to basically make me smile when I look at him.  I have picked him up and played around with him, but I've never taken him too seriously, he's my buddy and he realizes he's not going to be "the one" to make me sit myself down and go through my new "Guitar for Dummies" book that I bought after nearly 40 years of waiting on Edgar...a girl has just so much patience; mine is gone. (LOVE YOU, Edgar!)

Normally, when I buy a guitar I go to the pawnshop. For me, it's tantamount to going to the animal shelter to rescue a dog or cat. At the pawnshop, you find castaways, surrenders, and estate purchases that just didn't work out. I don't think you'll find anything that will be put down for food aggression, but you may find a friend with a broken neck, misaligned frets, popped strings, missing plates or worse. I hold each guitar to see if it speaks to me, and if it does I want to know everything I can about it to see if we're going to get along - - I've only found a few that were just a bit too wild for me bring back to my abode, but I have found them!  Stella was a good guitar; she was handcrafted from a small town in Mexico, and when I bought her I knew she was worth much more than what I was being asked to pay for her. I took her to Guitar Center to be cleaned and restrung, the masters there told me just how valuable she was. I guess someone else found out how valuable she was too; she was stolen from my home when I was out on tour with my dog Faith. Stella was the only thing taken too. So sad. 

Today I found Wally! Wally is named for William Wallace, the 13th Century Scottish knight who along with Andrew Moray, defeated the English at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. You remember Mel Gibson played the role in the movie Braveheart.  With April being Scottish American Heritage Month (who knew?) I decided to buy myself a good guitar and name it after a famous and handsome Scotsman. Who knows if the real William Wallace was hot? Mel did him a big favor; boosted his ego, I'm sure. My Wally will be taught (along with me) what it means to be happy, played, befriended, and loved. My Wally did NOT come from a pawnshop, however; he was purchased from a home. That has never happened before. I've never simply answered a Craigslist ad for a guitar, but today that's what I did.

Yesterday I spent about 3 hours driving around looking for a new friend. I went to 7 different pawnshops close to me; I say close, they were within 6 or 7 miles of my home.  I went to one right after the other, even calling the shops before I arrived to find out if they had anything. I ended up finally just throwing my hands up in the air because there wasn't a single six-string acoustic guitar near my house! I was going to have to drive about 20 miles to find one with a relatively good price; one that wasn't broken wasn't cheaply made, wasn't going to cost me more than my horse board! I do have my senses about me. I haven't learned to play yet, so I didn't want to put the money into a Gibson, Fender, Martin, or Takamine - - it was going to need to be foreign made guitar, as all or most American made instruments are pricey pricey and they just can't be found. I wanted one that was either 3/4 or full, nothing too fancy and he needed to be a he - - yes, guitars have genders.

Not finding a single guitar worth picking up at the shops I did the next best thing; I went to Craigslist, and you know, I may have even looked at Facebook Marketplace too.  I think people got their stimulus checks and 34% of Oklahomans went out and bought acoustic guitars this week. I looked up "acoustic guitar" on Craigslist and there were three.  One was $1000 price firm.  One was black with rhinestones and a big rose right in the middle of it...so not a guy guitar, this was most most most definitely Rosey and she was a Spanish beauty probably made in China.  She was also a no-go.  Then there was Wally. Wally was not named of course, not until he was in my hands.  He was in a small town just about 20 miles away from my house - - I knew it, I knew I was going to make a trip.  He had been waiting for me and when I picked him up he was instantly smitten; just as smitten as I was.  

The man who sold him to me, and only for $100 I may add, had purchased Wally from Guitar Center in 2017 and he was new, or at least he hadn't been purchased beforehand. I don't know when he was actually made, but he was in fact made in China as well. He's a Yamaha, and I guess I thought they were Japanese, but he has a certificate glued to his spine saying he's an FD10S and he was in fact, made in China.  That's OK, he's an American now. He's mine. He'll stay mine. I don't think he'll be stolen or carried away; he's average, basic, normal, nothing too fancy, but sweet and concise. He came with a nylon bag, new strings, picks, a little stand, and even a cheap strap that will be soon replaced with an Armstrong tartan one for sure. Wally doesn't have a backstory, he doesn't even have an interesting front story either. The man bought him, played him maybe a dozen times over the next few weeks,  and just put him back into his case and in a corner of the garage studio where he sat until the man decided to clean up the garage.  When I asked him why he didn't play the guitar he said he's a drummer and he thought it would be cool to learn but never did. OK. I guess that makes sense.  Checkers hasn't been played much and I'm not even a drummer. 

I brought Wally into the bedroom to meet Checkers and they've been hanging out together today. I'll be sure and give Checkers a bit of attention as well when I do learn a chord or two, so as not to come off as being partial to Wally, but as I mentioned before, Checkers is really more for show and conversation - - he knows his role. He's OK with it too, but I can only imagine he'll still feel that he's lead guitar in the room. I don't want there to be any animosity before bedtime - - too much drama can lead to really crazy dreams you know.  So that's it. This blog is just to introduce you to my new friend and let Edgar know he's officially off the hook -- but he still has to bless Wally and Checkers when I next see him, so I'll swing by wherever he's playing soon and let him test drive them both. He'll smile - - I'll smile, and that's all that really matters. 

Two Books are Better Than One!

 God is soooooo amazing!!  I don't even care how "churchy" that may sound. He is just OUT THERE awesome, and we all need to be aware of His love, His power, His promises, and how He keeps those promises.  I tell people all the time that if they will just listen to God, listen really well, and do what He asks of them, they will have every last desire of their heart. No joke, He promised it in Psalms 37:4. (I mean, King David probably wrote the Psalm, but yeah, it's God's promise to us.) It says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."  It doesn't say, "Do what feels good", and it doesn't say, "Go off half-cocked whenever you think it's necessary, it will be OK."  God is very specific about what He wants in our lives, we just don't have the patience most of the time to pay attention to His calling. I listened. I obeyed. He's giving me so much more than I ever imagined. Thank you, God, thank you, Jesus! 

I knew I would write Jude's Almost Daily Blog book someday. That day has arrived. The book is in the publisher's hands right now and is being produced for the last round of corrections.  I'm so happy Palmetto Publishing was kind enough to let me make the first round of corrections without laughing at me too badly.  I mean, c'mon, I'm a freakin' English professor and I made over 100 mistakes in my own book. Most of the mistakes, nearly 87% of them, were not putting things into italics or not putting quote marks around certain words.  Believe me, I would NEVER EVER forget to put quote marks around an actual quote, or fail to give credit where it is known! Oh my gosh, can you imagine? I doubt I could ever breathe again if I was to plagiarize! Stop the thought! Get out of my head!! NO!  The book will be finished in 1 month and it will be sold online as a PDF as well as a print-on-demand book. I'm taking control of the distribution of this particular book so that I can control the price. I don't want it to be very expensive. I want as many people to be able to afford it as possible. That was intentional. You give up the rights for publishing and you give up the right to costs. 

Secondly, I wrote a book several years ago now, called "Faith Walks".  It is a delightfully lively book about a dog who came into our lives in 2002 and stayed with us as a family companion until her passing in 2014.  During those years she became known as the miracle dog who walked upright like a human. Faith was trained to do this, and it became her technique of mobility. She was taken around the world and seen locally, to show people that you didn't need to look perfect or have everything everyone else has to be perfect yourself. She could not have had a higher level of self-esteem. Faith walked by her own faith and God's grace. We were blessed to call her our own. The book "Faith Walks" was self-published many years ago and will be resubmitted to be republished through Palmetto Publishing in the near future. or I may leave it with Xlibris and just promote it.  I am creating a website to host and promote both books as well as books I write in the future. So far this has been an amazing journey. I hope you will consider following me!

Two books at one time! Wow! I am overwhelmed with excitement and humbled by God's amazing timing. He alone is able to make all things come together.  Once the book has been picked up I can submit the YouTube video for you to see the book trailer. We want to keep it a little private until the houses have a chance to see it. Thank you for your prayers and love, kind words are always welcome.

PEOPLE Suck! That is All.

 DANG it! Ding and dang it! I'm not the happiest camper today and because of that, I've decided to blog about all the sucky sucks out there who feel it is their given right to be both annoying and inconvenient. I am so over this; but alas, here I am, living it. Well, ha! I get the last word, and these people will forever be written in my book for eternal prosperity! In 2525 people will read about how so and so sucked! (That is, "if man is still alive, and woman can survive") True story. I'll begin with just people who suck today, but I'll get around to angling my suck stick at others too. I am just going to vent, and I really hope you don't mind - - I'll even add myself to the pot! I suck sometimes too, but today it's not me! Today, I don't suck. (giggles because I'm an adult and I can say "suck" whenever I feel like it!)

This is Saturday, a day I could and should be sleeping in, but my nutritionist wanted me to be at her office rather early so she could get to her son's baseball game. I do a light treatment thing where I lay down on "pads" that have thousands of LED lights.  The light pads are then wrapped around my entire body except for my shoulders and below my knees.  Over my face, neck and upper chest is a thing that looks like a welder's mask, it too is chock full of tiny lights. When she puts my eye goggles on I can still very much see the really bright red lights, but it's better than not having the goggles on, I'm sure.  The light treatments last about 25 minutes each time, and I do them twice a week. So far, and it's been about 6 treatments, I've lost 12 inches and 11 pounds, so yeah, I'd say it's working. 

I was REALLY looking forward to being there today and doing my treatment, but when I arrived the nutritionist wasn't going to be there to get me out of the contraption, she had an assistant. NO.  No...I am not going to get naked for someone I don't know. I'm really rather picky about who I get naked with. I didn't know my nutritionist, but she was in fact a nutritionist, and the one I'm paying to assist me. Sorry, I'm not being a bitch, I swear, but my boobs and boo-boo don't get seen by that many, and certainly not some random someone you paid $10 an hour to take people off the lights. Heck, I don't think she was even of legal age! (No, she probably was, but she was tiny and pretty so yeah, no.)  NOPE.  We rescheduled. I drove the 28 miles back home and got the text asking me to come back in literally 3 hours -- sure; why not? YOU SUCK!

The text said "I'm really sorry, I wish I had known" and I thought really...because I wish I had known too because I would not have woken up so soon, showered, driven 28 miles one way, and had to tell someone they're not worthy to see me bare-skinned. I got another text saying how sorry she was again, and she'll give me a free treatment for my inconvenience. OK, well, I'm not going to lie, I do appreciate that, and I'll take her up on it, but you don't do that. You own the shop, you get paid to do the work. Show up! I do. I always show up and do my job. I don't know, I guess it's a First World problem, but there you go - - call me an impatient and impetuous American, and I'll probably agree with you, but dammit I do my job when I'm called upon to do it, and I don't push it off on someone else; never have. My Mom raised me to be that way. I'd like to think I've done the same.

Who else sucks today? Oh, there are at least a dozen people I could rattle off to you. Let's start with Karen M. of Texas. She was supposed to buy my horse today and didn't show up.  She's one of four who have all called, all texted, all wasted my time explaining every last detail of my horse and her behavior, and then they swear, promise, and affirm that they will show up and take her home. We spend hours talking about their ability to ride, their desire to have MY horse, and how MY horse is the ONLY one they could possibly consider. I have learned that horse people are good for about two things; telling lies and not showing up when they say they will, which is sort of the same thing as lying, but it's worse. I have driven out to the barn four times now to wait on people who don't show. When I call them they don't answer. When I text them they don't answer. I am left to wonder if they're dead on the side of the road or if they are like so many are, just sucky people with sucky lives who have nothing better to do than to suck. I am usually not wrong.

Oh, and yes, my daughter sucks! Caity sucks!!  She grounded my grandson (my one and only grandson) from his phone so now Gramma can't call him and Facetime! YOU SUCK THE WORST, but maybe she only sucks the worst because all the others suck and I wanted to talk to my booger bears (Copeland and Sailor) so I could moan and complain. They listen to me. They have to, I'm the Gramma. I mean, yeah, most of the time they tune me out, I know they do, but that's because I suck and they know it. At least they love me. I believe that. I'm going to have to get in my car and drive 110 miles to get a hug now. Tell me that's not the most unfair treatment in the world!  Again, First World issues, yeah, I know. I'll get over it. I'll get over all of it really; it's just that people need to be more ... I know, better!

OK well, that should do it. I'm about to make myself a chocolate banana smoothie because I can. I need this, and it's going to help with all the sucky poo poo I've had to deal with today. Maybe I'll just tell the dogs I need a hug and I won't have to drive 110 miles. I can just wait a week until my grandson isn't grounded - - what did he do anyway? C'mon! He's a sweety!!  No way he said THAT! (must have gotten that from his Gramma too...oops!) 

I Was Terminated! THANK YOU Jesus!

 It is not every day that you can wake up and thank Jesus that your job decided to terminate you, but today was one of those days. YES! I can now take the time to sleep in, read my book in peace, work on my guitar lessons (I'm training myself), and I can exercise in the middle of the morning without feeling like I'm cheating on my boss' time. I'm the type of employee who actually works from home when I'm contracted to work from home. I actually wake up, log in, work the hours I'm asked to work, and I will even give it a good college effort, but lately, I've been sorely upset with myself for accepting an assignment that not only took me away from my beloved bed - - God knows I love my slumber; I go to bed around 10:00 p.m. and if left alone I'll sleep past 8:00 a.m., giving me the good solid 10+ hours I really think I need and deserve. Well, now I can do that again and not feel guilty for waking up, logging in, and running to the kitchen twice to get coffee when I wasn't properly clocked out!

My bud Kevin called me about a month ago asking me if I wanted to take on another assignment, and this one was a good one - - and it was, he wasn't lying. It paid very well, it had benefits once they decided to hire me full time, which would have been in 90 days. I can do anything for 90 days as long as I watch myself and don't go rock climbing or something stupid like that (laughs because I don't climb rocks but I will jump on my horse in the rain.) I take zinc and low-dose aspirin, so I've staved off the 2nd round of Covid for sure; no one realizes it, but zinc actually really does keep it at bay. The more you know! I drink over 100 ounces of water every day too, so maybe that has something to do with being more healthy as well.  The bottom line is, Kevin is a friend, he's in the employment business, he needed to fill a hard-to-fill slot, one that required prerequisite knowledge and experience in sales and insurance; so he thought of me. I agreed, and there we were - - there I was, getting out of my bed at 6:30, working 7a-4p, not sleeping in, not working out on my terms, not reading books, not practicing guitar, not spending too much time on social media, and basically hating myself for being so nice; no more nice!  I got terminated!!

From Day 1 of the new job (which is from home), I had tech issues. I don't do tech, so they had tech issues. I turn computers on, I expect them to work, and when they don't I call the Help Desk. The guys at the Help Desk and I became closer and closer, we chat now, one even became my Facebook friend, we do blog exchanges now because I spend an extraordinary time with them every single morning trying to get my new out-of-the-box laptop to work properly.   The company I agreed to work for couldn't get their software to load; it finally loaded, and I lost my H drive. They couldn't find it, then I lost my S drive. I don't want to think of the embarrassing looks I could have gotten if the office(s) were open and people knew my H and S were not loaded; that I was in fact H-less and S-less! Basically, it meant I couldn't receive or share information with others in the company. I couldn't send out prewritten scripted dialog to physicians, insurance companies, credential contracting administrators, and the like. I was only able to make calls, verify whether or not an office received a package from us if they had time to review it if they wanted to sign up with us, and if so, they could let someone else know because let's face it, without an H or S drive, I was just another pretty face in the Matrix! Worthless!

I could save things to my desktop, but the company gurus thought it wasn't secure. Apparently, with the type of credentials I was trying to obtain, I had to be on a secured drive. I get it. I was less than secure and therefore, they had two choices. I could take on a less position; one I am absolutely overqualified to take, and therefore the company would never consider it, or they could terminate me. I didn't really have a choice mind you, that was all them, but they made the right choice! THANK YOU....they let me know at 10:00 a.m. this morning, but the funny thing is, about 9:30 today my new book (the first blog book) came back to me to review, but I was unable to review it until I got off work at 4:00 this afternoon! HA! Yes, now I can! I can not only review my book, but I can also lollygag too. I can pittle. I can goof off, I can act the fool, I can do the dance, and I can even go shopping for journals and dog treats in the middle of the day without feeling guilty or lying about my actual time on the clock! I'm not on a clock! I'm terminated. God is amazing!  There are times I just want to reach up and KISS HIM!  

Believe me when I say I'm not making light of people who find themselves out of work; I know that's a terrible thing, and I've been stretched to the hilt a 1000 times in the past myself, but this time around it's such a blessing! I don't want to overstate it, but I didn't really want to take the assignment. I just wanted to help out a friend, make a little money for it I guess, and maybe do it until the book sales come in for the first book, maybe a bit longer so I can be paid for said book sales, but I had NO INTENTION of going permanent after 90 days unless the company was willing to let me fly to Scotland and set up shop in my semi-detached or terraced house in the Kingdom of Fife! I have plans, I have goals, I have dreams, I have desires! I want this, and God knows this. He's literally opening every door and He's got this covered for me. He's 100% in my corner, both supporting me and making it happen for me. I love that.  Woot!  (Does the dance in her little plaid jammies because she can!) SMILES.  It's all working according to hope and faith. 

Earl's Rib Palace - That is All.

 There are those places where you go when you can say something like, "Hey, I'm going to Earl's, you want anything?" and when you say that, when you do that, you are immediately met with wild-eyed hungry varmints who can't beat you to the car fast enough! Climbing in all four open doors at once, you find yourself among friends, family, neighbors, even strangers if you say those words loud enough; at least here in Oklahoma City, you can expect that.  Co-workers are apt to sneak out and not tell anyone where they're going if they plan on making an Earl's run. They know they'll spend their entire lunch hour just putting in the order and then there may not be enough people in the packed car to bring it all back to the office. You more or less want to just call in that order, and maybe have DoorDash bring a van! 

Sure, sure, yeah, there are other BBQ places in the city (we don't write out Barbecue here, we say BBQ), and you know Earl's is well aware of their competition; I think a new guy named Dave is actually making a name for himself on the Southside of the city, off of 149th and Western, but I won't make a thing about it if I go; even if I love it, you find a hole and you stick with it. You don't cheat on your Q. You don't do that! Several retired alumni from OU (OK Univ) football team(s) over the years have tried their hand at starting up a Q either in physical form or just creating and lending their name to the sauce they claim. It's all good. We're in it for the long haul here in the Sooner State; God help you if you shout out "Boomer Sooner" at a new hole; there are some things you don't mess with, and Q is that some thing. You find your hole and you stick with it. If your daddy found a good place to eat at, and you were raised on it, you stand your family ground! You stick with it. We are an EARL'S family!

Before Earl there was a place, (a man) called Leo's that absolutely mastered the tech of Q and his reputation took on many many legends, the smallest of which was possibly a hole in New York City where I found myself in 2006 ordering a 1/4 slab of ribs with mild sauce and a side of coleslaw. I don't do fries - if you eat Q you eat coleslaw, baked beans, even okra, but you leave the fries for burgers; OK? I found myself in the Big Apple ordering ribs and I joking asked for Leo's homemade sauce - - they had it! WHAT? ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS right now? They had it. They "imported" it from a dealer out of the Sooner State and yes, they had Leo's. I had to pay an additional $4.00 for a small tub of that nectar, but honey, it was so very worth it. It was HOME! 

Go far! Stay near! Whatever it takes, but keep your tongue and your belly loyal to your BBQ hole and spread the word about it. There are families out there who haven't made their choice(s) yet, and the more they know, the more educated they'll be - - I think Earl's has three or four restaurants now; this actually means he may be too big for his britches in our neck of the woods. He may become commercialized and if that happens, if the sauce and smoked meats are ever compromised, we Okies tend to friendzone a place in a heartbeat; and we walk on, walk out, but not without placing an order because that would be stupid. We're still gonna eat your food mind you, but we're gonna only do it if we're really starving and can't make it to our other hole fast enough. Keep it local. Keep it small. Keep it tender. Keep it mouth-drooling smokey; and by all things holy, keep the recipe a dang secret! C'mon now! There is sacred and there is BBQ and that's the way it is. Ya'll know that.  (Ha! Ain't that cute? Grammarly tried to autocorrect the word "ya'll" to become "you'll".  NOPE!) 

Happy Birthday Baby Boy !

     Oh hey, yeah, I'm sorry, that would be Staff Sergeant Baby Boy, now, wouldn't it?  My son Reuben turns 35 years old today (March 22) and let me tell you, he's just as gorgeous today as he was the first day, I saw him over 35 years ago - - in a dream.  I was privileged and blessed by God to have a very very colorful and vivid dream about my son when I was 3 months pregnant with him. I saw him, and he called me Mom. I knew that second that I was going to have a son, and I would name him Reuben after my sweet daddy.  Reuben was born EXACTLY 9 months after he was conceived to the day, and he's still the very same way - - on time, every time, never late. I don't know if he got that from me or not, but we both feel that being early is on time and being on time is late.  

    Weighing in at six pounds ten ounces, the boy was literally 22" long and, all arms and legs, and he was pushing through the canal leading with his shoulder! The doctor had to turn him around, push him back, and dang if he didn't do the same thing again! My swift-quipping doc leaned over my spread legs and said "You got yourself a linebacker, Mom".  He was right!  Reuben did grow up to be both a lineman and the captain of the team - - but of course, he did. He's always been a natural leader; could be why he's still in the Armed Forces and why he decided to go enlisted rather than become an officer. He's a troop-man, not a paper pusher. As he says "I work for a living", and I absolutely thank him for that dedication. He's my personal hero and he knows it. They don't make moms prouder than this one! He doesn't understand all the fuss, but he allows it.  

    Thirty-five years ago, I was as big as a barn of course, and laying on my side that cool and breezy Saturday spring morning when out of NOWHERE I got the first real contraction; but true to his ever-present commanding ways, Reuben did not give me a few warnings before he made his entrance. No, he stepped up and called out his position with the hardest hitting pressure I'd ever felt; more like a sucker punch to the base of my.... well, down there.  BAM! BAM! BAM!  It was not a gentle knocking, or even a sweet "Hey mom, are you awake? I think I may be coming out now."  No, he pushed through like a Drill Sergeant; demanding my attention, and compelling me to fly to the hospital with little to no time for prepping myself, the nursing staff, or the physician. In fact, they had to find a physician because mine was just taking too long to get to the hospital, and Reuben was not taking his time to arrive. He was set to be out at a certain time, and by God, he made it!  Welcome to the world, Mr. Reuben Andrew Stringfellow! He was born at 12:34 p.m. March 22, 1986, in Oklahoma City's Baptist Medical Center, and into my heart, taking his permanent residence there forever!  

    Today Reuben is in the very elite Oklahoma National Guard 45th Infantry.  He is a Fire Support Specialist (13F), having first served as a 19K (Stryker driver) in the United States (regular) Army; having deployed overseas several times including a stint in Afghanistan and Iraq.  He could see another deployment before he gives up the combat boots, but who knows, he could be a lifer -- he goes back and forth on that one.  What does an 13F do? Here is what the Army Job Profile online had to say:  

"The Fire Support Specialist, which is a military occupational specialty (MOS) 13F, is primarily responsible for leading, supervising or serving in intelligence activities such as target processing for artillery units and brigade maneuvers."   

    All I know is this; my son is damn awesome.  Just so very cool, and did I mention he's really handsome? He's really really handsome.  I would know.  Just ask me, and if you don't believe me, ask Gma! She doesn't lie. Nope, she does not lie. Happy Birthday son, and may God keep you, bless you, and protect you always...always, no seriously...ALL WAYS and always.  You are my heart. 

 

Wisest Man, Huh?

 The Bible is really an interesting read; if you're into murder, mayhem, romance, polygamy, war, and famine, you'll not find a more action-packed book for sure. Now, keep in mind, the Bible is actually 66 books, not one. When I was a kid I was subjected to the memorization rituals that all good Southern Baptist children go through; before I was 7 I couldn't really read the big words of the Bible, but I could sure as heck tell you where to find Deuteronomy and I knew Jude came JUST before the end of the book. For such a powerful "book", Jude is really less than two pages I think. That Jude and this Jude have very little in common when it comes to talking - - just saying! If I had been THAT Jude the Bible would have been about two inches thicker. There's no way I could wrap up the importance of salvation in just two short little pages. NOPE! This blog will end up being longer than the Book of Jude; watch!

So, as kids, we're told by our Sunday School teachers that Jacob had 12 sons, but we're not necessarily told that in order for him to get those 12 sons (and a daughter named Dina) he would have two wives and two concubines! Don't ask me the exact job description of a concubine, but let me tell you, I would never want to have to admit that first, I shared my husband with my older sister, and second, we just simply weren't enough for the man, so he went steady-eddy with two of our closest friends or co-workers, made a few babies with them, and we're just supposed to go along with it - - nope, that just simply would not sit well with me; Jacob would be flat out on his keister BEFORE I married him if I were Rachel; and just after he took my little sister as a wife, if I were Leah. I have NO idea what those two sisters decided to do with the man's laundry, but if you ask me, he would be run out of the house buck naked and he'd owe me every sheep, goat, chicken, and ass he had to his name - - except the ass attached to his backside; he could keep that all to himself!

Children are so gullible; in this case, it's a good thing. Can you imagine if our Sunday School teachers were going over the story of King Solomon in our weekly lesson and the question about his wives popped up in conversation? Jacob had a couple, and that's bad enough, but here we go with the "wisest man to ever live" and it turns out that boy had over 700 wives, and half as many concubines to boot; he had princesses, he had ladies from every country! He was a man whore if there ever was one, and no, there's no mention of King Solomon being like his daddy King David, and being a "man after God's own heart", in fact, we're told that God specifically told ol' Sol not to take wives from foreign regions as they would end up turning him away from his own God...which they did.  How does it work if you're one of 1000+ women and you're "married" to the King? Do you take turns in bed with the man? Maybe wait for him to call you up from wherever you lived in the kingdom for a tryst? C'mon, think about it, you can't have 1000+ women all married to the same (even if he is devilishly handsome) man, living under one castled roof! It would be impossible. This is the best example of what a real kingdom is or could be used for; housing 1000+ women and probably over 3200 children.  

No! Just a big fat, NO...I'd have to decline the offer if it was extended to marry the man. He could ask all day long, but the answer would be no. I mean, I may have to move out of the kingdom if that's where I kept my sheep and all, but I would have to move, and I would probably change my name too so his henchmen couldn't find me and drag me back someday in the future after word of my refusal finally made it back to the son of the greater king. Or, maybe I could say "Sure, why not!", marry the man, get the stimulus check he most likely would have put out for support purposes to anyone looney enough to agree, and when it came my time to sleep with him I could always say "Oh, you know what Solomon, I would, but I'm washing my hair, my camel's hair, my goat's mother's hair, and tonight is the night we play Bingo with the Moabites - - maybe next time?"

I know the Bible is Holy and there are no mistakes in it. I get that. I also know it's been translated a few dozen times, and there are language issues, barriers, changes, and there are different interpretations as well; but there's just NO WAY I can wrap my brain around a few of these men in the Bible who either drop dead because they chose to lie to God (always a dumb decision), they end up murdering the husband so they can have the wife (King David), and there's Sampson - - seriously? It's more than obvious that Delilah wasn't all that into you; why did you tell her your secrets? Oh, OK...they don't tell us that as kids either - - he wanted sex.  Sex.  He gave up his STRENGTH for it. He lost his sight for it. He ended up dead because of it. Men! (Sorry, that was a bit of a rant)  Like I said, I am just not that sure that somewhere along the way someone may have forgotten to mention that the wisest man in our known history had way way way too many women calling him their own; more like "Take a number, I'll be right with you ladies!"  Again, yeah, no.  I'm either #1 or not one at all, but I'm no one's fool.

Maybe it worked out in the end for Solomon - - oh wait, no, he died without loving God, so there you go, no, it didn't work out for him at all.  What did we learn? I guess that Sunday School is a great, really great place to hear about and learn stories from the Bible, but maybe we shouldn't be too hard on the teachers for not revealing EVERYTHING they found out when they got a bit older. I think I was in my 20's when I realized Eve and Adam didn't have, or couldn't have belly buttons. Go figure.

Self Appreciation - It's a Thang!

 You see people at the bookstores and they'll all lining up to read the latest self-help book, and for some, it's an addiction of sorts. You see them week after week, month after month, reading, searching, researching, trying to find that magical answer to their deep-seated issues regarding self-hate; here's a thought, stop hating yourself! At the risk of sounding real (and I do mean overtly) arrogant, or as my friend Tex would say, "cheeky", I think this blog being my own creation, and my own personal space in the universe where I can say what I want to say, and mean what I say; I think this blog warrants me saying to you right now to stop hating yourself and start appreciating YOU for who YOU are. Simple? No, it's not, but then again you aren't simple either, now, are you? 

Suppose you close your eyes (not now, you're reading my blog) and you think about yourself as a kid; is that when the self-hate started for you? Can you pinpoint the time when you started saying things to yourself that you couldn't or wouldn't say to your grandma without being taken to the shed and whooped with a leather strap? Some of ya'll probably don't even know what I'm talking about, but there was a time when grandmas were the scariest things on the planet, and you tip-toed around them because if you said a word that didn't fit into their cluster of appropriate things to say, you were, as I said, taken out back to the shed and your backside was tanned up a bit either with a good strong piece of leather strap, or the nearest switch she could find laying around the yard from off one of her old fruit trees. Grandmas always had big strong fruit trees too; don't you remember? God forbid she ever asked you to get your own switch so she could whoop you with it -- kids are so dumb, they found the smallest thinnest greenest piece of tree possible, not knowing that was the worst pain-bringer under God's eye.  Grandmas were (and are) the one things keeping you safe -- a Granny prayer can equal 100 standard prayers; you know it. 

If you don't start every single day off with at least a dozen good solid compliments to yourself then you need to regroup, pull all 75 trillion cells in your frame into one big lump, pull yourself by your bootstraps, and look your pretty face squarely in the mirror so you don't lose sight of who it is you're talking to. You don't have to say a bunch of words you don't mean, and you don't have to lie to get the truth out either; you are absolutely and positively the ONLY you out there, and as such you deserve to be treated and admired for that single fact. You have everything you need to be perfectly you and any deviation from that united soul, body, mind, spirit, self is just off-balance and out of place. You have to put it back into place, polarize yourself to who you were created to be, and if you can't find that person, you do what everyone must do if they need advice about a product; you go to the Creator and ask Him what He thinks of you. He'll tell you - - you don't even have to listen for Him to tell you, He'll tell you. You do need to listen to understand. You are awesome.

Start out really simple and look at your face in the mirror. Instead of cursing at yourself, talk to yourself, and say what you want your heart to hear and understand. We all want to belong to something, so start by belonging to you; accepting you. If you need change, be that change. If you need help, ask for it. Look at your eyes, say something about them. Appreciate what they do. Look at your nose, again, out loud say what you think and what you need to hear, without being degrading, belittling, or rude to your nose. It's helping you breathe, isn't it?  Talk to your freckles, your mouth, your teeth, your tongue, your eyebrows; and never forget your ears, never, ever forget your ears. They are so important. Once you get past your head move to your neck, your shoulders, your chest, arms, hands; stop at the palms and really look at the lines. Do you understand the lines? 

Once you're finished with your hands, your fingers, your nails, and even the hair and freckles that cover you, move to your belly, and if you say something mean to your belly you deserve to be taken out back twice (tell your belly thank you). Move to your hips, your productive organs, even if they don't or haven't produced they are marvelous, they are created to create. They are so intricate and unique. There's that bum! Grab it! Let it know you see it and let it know you won't forget about it today as you thank you for all the things you mean to you. Those legs are not just for standing, walking, or crossing. When we think of what we would do without our legs we are immediately reminded of the sacrifice many have made for us in war, in combat, through surgery, diabetes, accidents.  Thank your legs. Take a minute to rub them and let them know you'll drink more water to assist them with their responsibilities. 

Finally, you're at your feet, aren't you? You can't over compliment your feet. It's impossible. They are some of the most interesting things you'll ever encounter and there they are just waiting to be loved by you. Polish your toenails, file the callouses, check your heels twice because they really need to be reminded sometimes, just how superheroish they are from time to time. God bless our heels! Once you've loved your body - - move on to your soul, your spirit, your mind. Don't chinch on this! This is WHO you are, your body is WHERE you are living. Find YOU and remind YOU of all the creative and wild imaginative things you want to see, hear, feel, touch, taste, walk through, and explore with that body of yours.  Don't let your mind be a place you would not feel safe. Create within yourself the gardens of hope, peace, brilliance, and of course love - - places you build, places you want to share with others; but first, you have to feel good about it; about you.

You can't appreciate yourself without believing that you're worth appreciating; it's impossible. If you need to get a journal and write out the reasons you know you're fantabulously great, do it. You don't have to lie - - tell the truth. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain and share with others. No one said you have to be arrogant, "cheeky", or conceited, but there's no reason to hold back, lie, or mislead yourself into believing you are less than what God Himself created. If you will sing a hymn about your assurances being blessed, and you don't love yourself, then why would you waste your own time trying to impress God with your song? He made that too. He knows already just how marvelous you are - - you won't ever over thank Him - - you can't. Love God, love you, love others. That's how it works. 

You're welcome. 

Photo: Emma Gatewood "Gramma Gatewood" to some.

Detox! Natural Poopy Pills!

 IF you have the privilege to know my comprehensibly rude and overtly inappropriate family, you would know that my three children will at times have competitions that involve poop -- yes, you heard me, human waste.  They will, independently, collectively, competitively contact each other through text, messenger or through a game on the headset, and they'll talk about their last poop. They'll make it a joke of course, but they're very serious about making it a one-up situation; forcing the other one (or two, depending on how many of them are on the call) to either lie about their last poop, or to admit they were inferior in their production of said waste, unless of course; and this is huge (no pun intended) they are telling the truth, and they can prove it - - yes, I said prove it. They are (and never have been) above sharing graphic photos to each other. THANK YOU, children, for not sharing with the rest of the world! I did at least get that part right when I tried my dangedest to raise you - - I did something (if only one thing) right!

We have always been a family of poopers, I can tell you that. With the vast amounts of protein being blended in shakes, cooked on the stove, and just eaten out of cardboard cans, my family will out fart any family I know; and I'm not above admitting to being a part of that statistic. Reuben wins, we all agree, there is no one in this family arrogant enough, willing, or able to challenge the man, he's the King, and we give him that crown. I have written in another book that it's sad (to a degree) that as a mom I can literally walk into a fart and know which kid produced it - - KNOWING that I was about to walk through the door or hallway; it's a thing, and they all get the biggest kick out it - - sometimes I literally sit in my overstuffed chair just thanking God for their individual homes while I breathe in the clean fresh conditioned air of my home...and say a little prayer of gratitude for the years I raised them too.  How many moms can undisputedly claim that all of her children continue to communicate on a daily basis at least two to three times, and even if it's just to compare waste, it's sharing love. TRUE love.

One of the ways I personally stay in the game is to eat raw fiber and protein vs. protein shakes, but I do drink those if I work out. EVERY day I pop in a few natural poopy pills (as I call them), somewhere between five or six dates, four to six figs, and a handful of raisins throughout the day. I can be seen putting cranberries in my oatmeal; I have trail mix which incorporates nuts, seeds, and either raisins or cranberries, and I try to drink about 100 ounces of water a day. I think that's about 3L, let me go check that out for my UK friends. Yes, Siri just told me that 100 ounces equal 2.96 liters. There you go! I am so close to being prepared to go to Scotland! (I'm laughing) I also prefer to say I am 167cm tall than five feet and seven inches. My weight in kilograms looks so so so much better than it does in pounds, believe me. 

When I was a kid, my mom and my grandmother used to pop prunes like candy so I did too. I just never got over it I guess. I love prunes to this day, but do prefer figs and dates when given a choice. I'm flat out amazed at how many of my friends (all but one) don't like fresh fruit at all and will never even consider eating a prune, date, or fig.  They'll eat a Fig Newton cookie! They'll even talk about how healthy it is because it's made of figs. They forget about the sugar, the processing, and yeah, the cookie part. They eat two of them and think they've mastered the corner on healthy snacking. I smile.  I tend to smile because it feels so much better now that I've stopped banging my head against the walls trying to get my friends to understand that what goes in must come out and if it doesn't come out the way it should, you really maybe might kinda wanna start thinking about not eating it! PUT THE PROCESSED FOOD DOWN!  A good rule of thumb really is if it comes in a box in the frozen section of the store, it's not good for you. 

A good detox is good for the body of course, and it is good for the mind as well. There is truth to the fact that our psyche is attached to our bodies and when we feel stopped up inside it's no surprise that we aren't thinking happy thoughts, doing happy things, or making happy choices. Most of the time you see and hear depressed people say they eat more than they should when they feel down and out - - it's time for Ben and Jerry's or it's another afternoon with their "therapist" who just happened to be a big bag of Oreos and a bunch of Diet Coke. For some reason people still feel that drinking diet colas with snacks will somehow even the score - - it does not folks. It makes it so much worse. Try prunes instead - - you get sad, pop a prune. You get pissed off? Find a fig! You can't see straight from the stress of the world, your spouse, your kids, your job, EVERYTHING seems to be crashing all around you? That's when you hit the closet and pray, but when you get out of it, you pick up a pear, an apple, something with fiber, and you get that poop right out of you. No drugs needed...just fresh, vibrant, living fruit, and maybe another 30 ounces of water, because you have to be honest with yourself, you probably didn't drink enough clear water today did you? (C'mon, you know you didn't) 

Well, that's my rant today - - more fiber! More fiber equals more poop. More poop equals more smiles and more smiles equal one happy person.  If you multiply that happy person by a few thousand you have a happy community. If you multiply it by a few hundred thousand, you have a happy city.  Try multiplying that by millions - - billions!  We can do this. We have enough fruit out there. We have enough water too, but do we have enough toilet paper? That's the real question. That's an entirely different blog!