Things I Wish I Knew Before Making Candles.

 Obviously, there is some merit to the old saying "Experience is the best teacher".  Again, obviously, there is also merit in the old saying "Practice makes perfect", but I'm much more like the guy who came around later and said "Perfect practice makes perfect".  If I continued to practice the bad form I was performing I would never have perfected the backhand spring. I would have ended up on my head more often. I had to adjust my thrust and I had to perfect the timing due to the fact that at age 14 I was growing faster than my coach anticipated. I was a gangly 5'6" gymnast, and that doesn't always bode well on the beam and bars. It's not that big of an issue on the floor.  Well, I like learning, and I like knowing something is the right way to do it before I do it, but if that's not an option, I like knowing as soon as possible what the right way is, so that I don't make the same mistakes over and over again. I don't know about you, but I absolutely HATE making mistakes; even if I'm a novice at something. I prefer to KNOW the ins and outs before I dig into it.  So WHY did I not read up on the ins and outs of candle making before pouring (see what I did there) myself in to it?  God knows.

    I am not one to waste money, so I didn't dish out tons of cash and then find myself unable to pay rent. I didn't do anything quite so foolish as that. No,  I know and I knew before I started, that I would need a few practice runs before the real and viable products could be made and sold for profit. It was more or less a guessing game really, not knowing exactly how much I would put out before being in the money, but it's a working progress and a work-in-progress, so I don't mind having a bit of fun as long as I can reheat the wax and start over if I need to. About the only thing I will be out is the container the candles go in, and I can reuse those if I can ever find a way to get ALL of the wax out of the damn things.

    I would say, without going into all the details, that the three things I wish I knew before getting into candle making would be: First, knowing that I could microwave the flaked wax and I wouldn't have to buy pots and do the double boiler thing. I may end up just investing in a larger measuring cup with a handle and a spout (plastic) and doing it that way. It's faster, cleaner, and I don't have to wonder how much I'm putting into the cup because I can use my handy-dandy digital scale to weigh it out. You may or may not know but need to know, that WATER is the only thing that measures out the same in fluid ounces as it does in mass. One pound of wax makes 20 ounces of liquid to pour.  If you make 4 ounce candles you'll need 1 pound to make 5 candles. (I could have added that fact to my things I wish I knew, but I knew that from some fun fact video I watched many years ago, and for whatever reason it stuck with me.) I relearned that fact recently, but it is a good thing to keep in your head.

    I wish I would have known that the double-sided sticky pads that you put at the bottom of the candle to hold the wicks will come off if you pour the wax even 1 degree too hot. I think I went through 10 before I realized this fact. I have all but poured cooler wax and find myself stirring pretty furiously at the end to keep the wax from getting too hard in the bottom of my pot. It only took 10, so yeah, I'm not that daft. I learned and I adjusted.  This was a BIG thing though because my fingers didn't always fit into the jar to put the sticky pad at the bottom if the jar was too tall. I've taken to using shorter candle containers and it's likely going to stay that way. They travel better in the mail as well.

    Also, I wish I would have known that I could and should cut the wooden wicks BEFORE I pour the wax.  I didn't even think about it. I just added the wick, and poured and then tried to cut the wicks when the wax hardened. NOPE.  I ruined the tops of almost all the candles when I did that. I compensated by heating them up in the microwave enough to get the top to melt, but that melted the bottom too, and BAM the sticky thing came off! You live, you play, you learn. Cut the wooden wicks before you put them into the jar.  (Also pour closer to the wick and not the side of the jar because you can drip the wax on the glass and then it's a bear to get off. I mean, that's OK if you're keeping your candle, but if you intend to sell them the client probably expects you to be a bit more careful when you pour. Learn from my mistakes folks, learn from my mistakes. 

    There's probably a dozen other things, but really candle making is so simple. I literally scoop the flakes of wax into the measuring cup and put it in the microwave for four (4) minutes. If it's not done I stir it and pop it back in for another 30 seconds.  While the wax is melting I set the candle jars with the two-sided sticky pad, the wick, and if I'm using a cotton wick (I don't really use them anymore) I put the stabilizer on top to hold the wick straight. You can cut those wicks off after the wax cools. I test the temperature of the wax and since I use Golden Wax products (soy) I wait for the wax to be around 122-123 degrees.  I add the scent just before I pour it, and I stir it well before I pour the wax into the jars.

    After you pour the candles (this is the MOST important part)  LEAVE IT ALONE until it hardens.  I sometimes wait until just before the candles fully harden and I add flower pedals, glitter, or tiny beads to the top to make it a bit prettier.  Most of my candles are white when I pour them. I use colors from time to time, but mostly just keep it as simple as possible.  I use 7 ounce mini-yogurt style glass clear jars for my candles.  I can barely reach the bottom to put the sticky pad in place, so sometimes I make sure I'm pressing firmly to keep the metal wick stand in place. It really is important to not pour too hot to remove that sticky pad. You don't want your wick roaming around. You're done.

    Candle making is fast. It's easy. There isn't that much of a mess to clean up, and the plastic measuring cup that I use doesn't really get too hot. If you microwaved glass measuring cups you'd want to be sure to use pot-holders to remove the measuring cup from the microwave, and be really careful not to burn yourself. Like I said, things I wish I knew. I sort of figured that one out on my own, but I bet there are videos about what you should, would, and could use.  Everyone likes to pass on a bit of wisdom when they can.  For me, I think the most I could tell you is to have fun and not put too much money into it if you just want to make candles for friends and family or gifts.  

    One 7-ounce candle with the right twine wrap, maybe a few beads on the twine, and a wooden wick would sell for upwards of $15.00 at a retail store, but even including the jar, the scent, the wax, and the wick, I pay about $1.45-1.90 depending on how fancy I want to be.  I charge $9.00 online and I ask that the client pay actual shipping. I don't charge handling. I wrap with bubble wrap and in a good box.  I even have a little warning sticker on the bottom of each candle, but you can get a roll of 500 stickers for $5.00 online.

    Etsy makes it simple and easy for people to make and sell really cool products. You can get into it and make a bunch more money if you have the money to pour into the supplies, racks, boxes, wrap, etc. You can get your cost basis way down if you are able to afford a really good capital investment. I think I put in $300 for the candles and I'll net $600 the first round. I'll pour that money back into the supplies and start over with the products. It may take a few swings and sets to call it a "profitable business" but for now I'm in the learning stage(s) and I don't mind putting in a bit more money and time to learn what I need to know.  I'll keep you posted. 

Photo Credit: Me

When is Too Much Too Much?

 This past week a rather interesting man passed away and though there was a bit of sweet remembrance, there wasn't the ungodly fanfare and rumor-flying gossip that is often associated with famous and even the infamous passing from this Earth.  Mike Nesmith, lead guitarist and singer in the more-than-just-fictional band The Monkees, passed of natural causes at the age of 78. I know, people will say (even Mike said) that The Monkees weren't REALLY a band. They played a band on television, and they pretended to be a musical group. They even released albums as a band, and most of us knew later on, after we grew up and figured it out for ourselves, that the musicians behind the music were paid studio musicians, but Mike Nesmith was an actual singer, and actual songwriter, and yeah, he played guitar fairly well.  I liked the guy; even though I was  in "Camp Mickey". I will admit that now. I was into the drummer.

    When Mike Nesmith passed and I saw a little something written about him, I couldn't help but ask myself what happens when someone who isn't so famous, but maybe we like their music, or maybe we bought their music, what happens when they fall ill, pass away or even relapse into depression or worse? Are we (as fans or followers) part of the "those in the know" about such a person? Would it be too much information to give to the public at large? When is too much too much? When does it become public knowledge when one of the not-so-recognized becomes a statistic? Is it meant for us to wonder about the safety and well being of that musician, songwriter, singer, or performer? Do we (as fans and followers) even have the RIGHT to wonder? Who decides that? I mean, they sort of put themselves in the light, right? They wanted us to see them and pay for their music, their movies, their performances for hire, but is it suddenly hands off when they fall from grace, die, or become less than loveable? I don't think it's right to keep those who made the light shine to be kept in the dark. 

    I understand the need to be private and the desire to be quiet about private matters. There seems to be a bit of a balance really, and often times it's a one-way street that only the performers can travel. They don't particularly know or even care if one of their fans falls off the wagon, so maybe they think it's no one's business if they skip a beat.  Then again, if I had thousands of followers and I was depressed or feeling like I needed a collective hug, I think I may just reach out to those very people and ask questions, seek answers, find ways to communicate on another level rather than just saying (without saying) "Thanks for buying my music and putting food on my table, but yeah, I'm not going to tell you about my actual life. You don't deserve to know anything. You just keep forking out the money and listening to me."  Maybe it's just me, but I would write a blog, a song, have a YouTube dedicated to it, or open a live Zoom chat for anyone who loved me. I would say "Hey, I know you think you know me, but you didn't know I'm really struggling right now. I don't need your money. I need your thoughts, your prayers, your suggestions, maybe. I need to know I have a real base, not just a fan base. Anyone who is willing to stay and chat with me, please do."  I'm just saying before I let it go too far I would reach out to the thousands and not hide from them.

    Recently, I've been in the closet praying for someone who means a great deal to me. I don't really have the right, (a right) to be considered a friend, but I am considering him my heart's assignment. I am not praying for the man because I'm all warm and fuzzy and can offer him the comfort he's always sought. No, God asked me to pray for the often prickly and insensitive sort.  He doesn't mean to be untouchable, I think he's been pushed, prodded, mishandled, abused, used, and set up to be thrown down, just a few too many times. He couldn't reach out if he wanted to because of the backlash he'd cause within his own family if he did.

     I think the family thinks it's best if he hides. I think the family thinks they're doing the right thing by keeping him quiet, and not telling the world or allowing him to tell the world his needs.  This hurts on a deeper level than just him being an assignment for me. He's a Christian man. The Bible is very clear about reaching out and sharing our pain with other Christians so that we can all support and uphold the weak among us. Think of this song,  "Lean on me, when you're not strong. I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on." When we need it, we should ask for it. There are those of us who are built tough enough to be the one called upon to pray and fast for healing, guidance, protection, and wisdom. 

    I don't know. I understand some privacy. I understand some drawing back. I understand some withholding; it's not good to share all of your dirty laundry, I know that, but at the same time it's good to be comforted by those who have already been there or those who are educated and experienced in whatever it is. If it's absolutely medical, in that the man is dying, dead, or otherwise incapable of reaching out, well then, perhaps a mention or update would be considered so that he doesn't simply fade into the gray to become a memory to some and less to most. Is that fair to what he created? Is that what he would want? 

    Well, I'll let it go for now, but keep my rock in my hand as I hang out in the closet with my clothes and those boxes I've been saving all year to pack Christmas presents into. I know I have been asked by God to be there when the time was necessary for the intercession and I guess this is it. This is that time. I may not now, I may not ever know the situation, but that's not the assignment is it? No, it's not for me to question, but to do.  I'm pretty good at doing. I'm not good at not knowing. God's working on me; it's ongoing. I'm getting better, I promise.  WE (Christians) won't be here on this Earth collectively much longer. If I don't find out now what I think I need or want to know, I'll find out later, and in the end, in the actual end, there is a beginning of eternity.  To be honest, not one thing (not a single damn thing) that happened here will really even matter.  King Solomon told us didn't he?  It's vanity. All of it. Nothing is worth worrying over. Give it to God and breathe. 

Photo Credit:  Getty Images - Mike Nesmith 

Oh, the Truth of it. ENTJ Runs in the Family!

 My son!  My precious, wonderful, ultimately best-looking-man-ever-made, son is an ENTJ! That's right, he's one helluva chip off the ol' ENTJ blockhead of a mom. He's a true Son-of-a-Bitch, that one. He is, and I'm not ashamed to say it. I am so very proud that he's "that way".   If I had to guess I bet Caity Baby is "that way" as well. Really, though, just as soon as I had typed those last words I thought about it. Reuben and I have the single trait that separates ENTJs from ENTP which is the overt and innate trait of needing to debate or argue.  We do argue, but we know we're right, whereas ENTPs will never back away even when they realize they are dead wrong. Reuben and I (especially me, Oh My Gosh), hate to be wrong, and there's never a need to chide either of us, we will kick our own ass(es) when we're wrong due to the simple fact that somehow (damn it) we're wrong. We do not like to be wrong. It's just so....well, wrong!

    Laura has to have a personality that begins with the capital letter "I" for Introvert. She's the strong silent type. You can hear Caity and Reuben (and me) coming from a mile away, but Laura will be right next to you for hours and you may never realize it. She doesn't like to bother or interrupt. She isn't one to make a stand or noise publicly. She really prefers to be the one blending into the woodwork whereas Reuben and I set the stage, start the trend, make things happen, make the way, make the wedge, forge forward, and neither of us can understand or comprehend when we turn around and there's no one following us. We have the answers and the answers will always, most always, be the correct one. We're willing to bet our own lives on it, and certainly yours.  Caity, quite probably an ENTP, would only bet your life. There is, in fact, another difference between she and her oldest sib.  (Laura would remove you from the situation and place her own life in front of you before she allowed you to be harmed. Reuben and I will allow you to be harmed if you're stupid enough to put yourself in the middle of our protective shield and the enemy.)

    When Reuben posted this week that he had taken the extended 16-Personality Myers Briggs test, and that his results were a firm ENTJ, I was all but in tears with rapture. My baby! My son! My joy!  Could it be that growing up he was actually paying attention? Was I molding this kid into the Commander that he has obviously turned out to be? Oh, if I only let myself dream that I had some small part in making him as grand and outstanding as he is, I would be able to die a happy woman.  I've been so busy trying to make sure that I didn't influence the girls to the point that they screwed up as badly as I did. I thought all along that Reuben would be a survivor.  (Now, after saying that, and typing that out, I realize that if any of us will ultimately survive a Zombie Apocalypse it will be Caity. We will all be sacrificed first before she takes one for the team. There is no team with Caity - - she will take the prize. Laura will die first.)

    I lament the fact that I am a Ravenclaw in a house full of Gryffindors.  Truth.  I am the ONLY Ravenclaw Stringfellow that I know.  Reuben, Laura, Caity, Caity's husband (best SIL ever) Brandon, even my two grandchildren are Gryffindors.  I don't know how that happened. I was clearly careful about what I taught them and how I trained them. They obviously had thoughts of their own, and without thinking these thoughts through appropriately, they decided to act (action) upon them. Action! Action! That's what I had to put up with for years upon years. Even before J.K. Rowling had us separating ourselves into distinct "Houses" I was quite clear about training, lecturing, and mentoring my little minions. To my chagrin each and every last child has not only outplayed me, they have outlasted me. They have not however outwitted me. That is my weapon.  Wit and the fact that I kill at Chess. Reuben, to his credit, has beat me ONE time. ONE time.

    So there it is. I have the opportunity now to breathe, to rest, to know that I have raised and successfully raised three amazing and incredibly humans. I am an influencing factor. I am and I was useful in their upbringing. I can't be blamed, but I can be credited. I won't take blame, and I won't take anyone saying I didn't do it right, because I KNOW I did this correctly. I have the evidence in front of my face -- thank you, Jesus. We couldn't have done it without Him.  To think.  To sit back and just think, that my son takes after me in more ways than just saying what's on his mind whenever he feels the need; but to know he will forever speak his mind bluntly and directly, expecting any and all who hear him to understand that he is doing so for their benefit more so than his own - - makes me weep just a wee tear out the corner of my eye - - my heart is pounding. So proud.

Photo Credit: Reuben Stringfellow

Shopping for One

 If you've been keeping up with my blogs you know I'm about to venture out on my own and drop the little one from my grocery list. That's right, I had to MOVE OUT OF THE APARTMENT to get rid of my clingy kid. She's OK with it, she's had six and a half years (who am I kidding, she's had 32 years) to get used to me, and to fully accept and understand me. This not being the case, it's time to move forward and leave her redheaded mess-making self to the wolves.  I say the wolves. Hopefully, she hasn't actually adopted or rescued any actual timber canine; but I haven't checked in a day or so. She did pick up a Mediterranean Gecko this past week. We have a new cage now. Scratch that; because she rescued the gecko she felt it needed a buddy and bought a bearded dragon (plus the cage, lights, basking rock, bedding, food, etc., etc., etc., ) and now they're both living in her room.  This is what I'm leaving. I'm going to go away, breathe quietly, and do so without dozens of fuzzy and/or scaly faces staring at me.

    I woke up this morning and decided to pretend I was already living on my own. I  purposely didn't say good morning to my daughter who was still sleeping. I purposely made my own coffee without putting on her tea. I purposely didn't feed her dog, but took my own dog for a walk.  Then I promptly felt absolutely too guilty about that, and fed her dog. You know I'm not that big of an asshat. I can't take it. He just too sweet to ignore. He did that head tilt thing - not understanding my actions.  I had to break character and feed him.  I sat in my chair and when my daughter woke up and asked me if I had set her tea I didn't answer her right away. I pretended she had called me on the phone so I answered her with my phone up to me ear and said "No, I'm sorry, I'm in my new apartment you know. I don't have your tea pot over here. You'll have to make it yourself, but I did feed your dog."    Deciding to play along with me, my daughter pretended to hang up on me, and made herself tea. Then she told her dog what kind of an asshat she thinks I am, but I know he totally disagreed with her. I could see it in his eyes.

    Staying in my groove, I decided to head off to the stores, the post office, and the grocery store by myself.  I barely got to the car when I realized she was behind me. I acted as if she was on the radio, and turned the knob down so I didn't have to hear her. It didn't work. She goosed me in the side and made me scream! FINE!  I told her she could pretend with me, but she couldn't make any suggestions I was shopping for one, not two.  She agreed to pretend not to make suggestions and she allowed me to think I was buying food for myself only. It didn't work out that way at the check out counter, but I had fun thinking I was buying just my stuff.  When we did make it to the check out she was kind enough to buy her own food, and let me buy my own as well.  She insisted on bagging them separately so I could keep my dream going - - good plan.  When we got home I had more things to carry upstairs, and I had to move things around in the kitchen to accommodate my new food, but it worked out for the best. She doesn't like my stuffed mushrooms, my Italian sausage, or my steel cut oats. She doesn't like most of what I bought, and when she asked what this was, or that was, I told her it was FOOD. It was REAL food, and adults ate it. She laughed. She said "Well, this one eats ramen."  Yes...yes, I know.

    The fantasy extended to my bedroom later today when she walked into it and asked what the hell that god-awful smell was.  Well, Laura dear,  it's a candle. The scent is Himalayan Bamboo and I made it. I like it. She made a sniff-cough noise and closed my door. Just think, if all I had to do was burn a bamboo candle to get her to leave my room when I'm typing, I would have done that six years ago. Who knew?  I poked my head around the corner of my room and gazed into her room for a second to see what she was doing. I could hear her talking about me. She was on her computer, headsets on, eyes glued to the images of her four international friends as they zoom and/or do the Facebook Live thing. She was explaining to them what I was doing and why I was doing it. They all, without exception, all four of them, told her it was time I left the apartment and she should grow up.  LOL...I laughed. I punched her in the gut first, but I laughed. She laughed too, but couldn't turn around fast enough to get me. I was out the door!

    Glancing over my cupboards just a few minutes ago I found so many wonderful things I will be making for myself (and her if she wants it) for the next foreseeable future. I can Pinterest the daylights out of dinner ideas. I can go on for weeks on end. I can literally turn a few ingredients into a masterpiece of culinary surprise; if she would only stop interrupting my mojo with her need to boil water to cook an egg or microwave a boxed mac and cheese. I am over there cutting up cilantro, pressing olives, and fileting cod while she's tearing off the paper protective cover of something in a plastic sort of paper sort of cup thing. I stand and wait while she adds unfiltered water to it. I blink with confusion. Did I really give birth and raise this one? Did an alien come by years ago and maybe slink its way inside the skin of 2nd born without me realizing it? Who gives up roasted herb cod for preprocessed powdered cheese and hard noodles in a box? My kid.  That's the answer. My kid.

    I scoured the internet for recipes and wrote down the ingredients I would need to create them. I did the math, the calculations in order to only buy as much as I would need plus maybe a little more in case her tastebuds could beg her head to try something good for once.  I bought the food, I put it away, I never actually have to label it or write notes to say "don't eat my food" because this woman is a Taurus and she will never eat anything other than the same old grass in her pasture. NEVER. It will not happen. I could count on it and set my clock to it. Now, that being said, if I buy food that she likes it won't be in the cupboard when I think I want it. Nope, that's a given. She'll lay claim to anything and everything that has become standard, or ordinarily routine. She's a rut eater. If she's eaten it for the past 32 years she'll continue to scarf it without asking. I needed a strategy and it was rather easy to accomplish. I just had to buy food she hadn't seen or heard of. 

    It won't be long before my phone is blowing up with texts and voice messages about whether or not I have an extra box of noodles in my new apartment. She'll ask if I bought Lactose Free milk and if it was HER brand. I will intentionally buy 2% regular milk so I can keep my dairy supply.  She'll write to me and ask me I have any hot dogs, Lil Smokies, Vienna sausages in a can, or if I bought any cheap cookies that, to me, taste like cardboard. No Laura. No, will be my answer. I have beef Wellington. I have orange marmalade, I have fresh organic salsa made by some woman you've never met. I have rich chocolate cakes that I made and froze to keep fresh. I have marinating butter steak strips to make surf and turf kabobs tomorrow -- but there's nothing in my house that has preservatives or comes in a MSG filled form; sorry.  She'll come over reluctantly, and allow me to feed her. I know my kid. She'll bitch about the sandalwood incense and she'll likely collapse for hours in my papasan chair.  I know she'll miss me. She'll pretend she doesn't, but she'll bring her little dog with her so he won't be eye-balled by her new pet snake. Just sayin'.  There will be one the second I leave the place. Mark my words.

Photo Credit:  Jessica Gavin

    

Things to Think About

 Today is December 16, 2021, and I would have been taking the SIE tomorrow except I decided to postpone the exam because I found a guy (Dean Tinney) on YouTube, and he does an AMAZING job at disclosing and discussing the various sections of the SIE Exam.  He goes over every point, and every thing that could be tested. He's awesome! I wanted to have time to go through all of his videos and really let that new wisdom sink in a minute before subjecting myself to testing over it.  That will be Wednesday 12/22/2022, and I think I can say with pretty cool confidence, that Tinney's explanations have really helped me to the point that I believe I can (and will) pass the SIE.

    Today, I also received a message from a great online employer who wanted me to consider working in the insurance and finance world from home. Yes, I'm listening. Go on!  I was struck primarily by how the company's ethics and reputation is really well received. They have several good marks and reports online, so I decided to apply for the open position of "Analyst" and we'll see what happens. It won't be the end-all type job, but just coming off the SIE and needing work for the start of the year, things are looking upward! I can stay home, work in my jammies, and enjoy myself as I lounge about with the dog discussing insurance over the headset. I am not required to be on camera. That's always a plus, even though I don't mind putting on make up and pretending to be wearing professional clothes from the waist up, I can now just talk and talk, and walk around the apartment doing light quiet chores while I discuss a client's needs. I don't have to be tethered to the computer with monitors recording my every move. Sure, my voice will still be recorded, but I don't have to explain why it is that I got up out of my chair to let the dog in from the patio.

    The job doesn't pay as much as a position outside the house, but the perks are amazing! To begin with, I won't have to put up with office gossip and rumors. I am the office. If I decide to talk down on someone else it's only me, and I can handle myself. I don't have to listen to me if I don't want to. I can absolutely ignore myself when called upon to do so. I don't and won't have to worry about being at work on time. I am at work when I roll out of bed. I can get up early enough to make my first cup of coffee, write in my journal, take the dog out, chit-chat with the neighbors who happen to be hovering around my door, and then go back inside and work! I love that. I won't be able to "move up the ladder" to the point of getting a corner office, but my office is just fine. I have enough room to dance, box, spin around and do squats, and if I want to, I can lift weights and do pilates while I sign someone up for a new variable annuity. I am THAT talented. This is gonna be cool.

    The best thing about working from home, and soon, working by myself since I'll be moving out on my own and dumping the little one - - is that I can cook, bake, clean, pay bills, exercise, walk the dog, write out notes to friends and family, shop online, and work at the same time. About the only thing I can't do on work time is listen to music because I'll be listening to clients, but it's all good. I get off at 4:00 p.m. and have the evening to enjoy my Celtic folk tunes. I am not going to get rich with this new position, but I will have a great time relaxing, living my own life, and not worrying about making ends meet, disciplining anyone, arguing with staff or administration, being bullied by co-workers, feeling like I am being watched all the time, and I won't have to worry about anyone taking my lunch or snacks out of the company frig! (Except when Laura makes her way over to my place, then yeah, I have to worry about that.)

    Since Reuben is taking over the payments of my car this coming month, and Laura and I are sharing her car because we can, I will be saving even more money and I won't have to drive back and forth in nasty traffic or when the sun hasn't woken up. I will be HOME!  To celebrate my new adventures I think I'll go out and buy myself a new convection oven so I don't have to spend as much time and money cooking in a conventional oven. Heck, it's just me. I'll have the air-fryer and the new convection toaster oven - - (and microwave) so I'll be super happy and efficient as well. Can't beat that.  I often ask myself if I will miss teaching and then I stop myself and say no. No, I will not miss teaching. I thought I would, but the profession is NOT what it was years ago when I started. People don't treat people with professional distinction with the respect they actually deserve. If they did we wouldn't have so many lower paid teachers walking out and deciding to work from home.  I will miss the kids, but I won't miss the job. Isn't it always that way? Kids are kids. You can't hate on them. 

    So, new life, new journey, new chapters, new visions, new everything - - new apartment, new ways to eat, cook, clean, survive and thrive.  One thing that I did for myself was to buy a big exercise pilates ball that sits on a stand. I use it as an office chair. I have really been working my butt, thighs and calves with it, and let me tell you; my knees don't ache as much either. It's really helped with posture, weight, balance, the whole works. Do it if you can. Check with your doctor first, of course. Make sure you're allowed to have this much fun. Be happy in your choices and do what you love to do. When you wake up in the morning and GET to go to work it's so much better than when you HAVE to go.

Photo Credit: Gaiam

Just Having Too Much Fun

 I know I get on a kick and keep harping about it, but it's new and it's exciting, so yeah, I'm gonna go on and on about it. No one has to actually read my blog if they don't want to.  I mean, I do, I read what I write to remind myself that I could have used another comma here or there, or I could have used a different set of words. Often times I think to myself that I should have another window open with the thesaurus pulled up so I can actually use another word for the word I over use. LOL...that's telling. Do you do that? OK, so it's just me, got it.  I'm not gonna blame the English teacher living inside of me, I'm going to blame the one I am thinking of at the moment I wrote "gonna" and laugh - - because I can.

    So, I'm moving out of the apartment after six plus years, and I'm thinking I can probably take most of the stuff I brought to the apartment with me.  I pulled out the handy-dandy notebook on a hard flat clipboard to make my list of all the things I'm bringing with me. My things. Things I bought and paid for. Things I think I have to have and can't possibly let Laura keep.  Little did I know she was standing right there with me giving me suggestions and basically saying I had too much crap and she didn't want it in HER apartment anymore. Really? Because I'm not taking a single thing that isn't mine, except maybe the dog lead she bought but in fairness she did buy it for Ginger! I'm taking Ginger! Ginger is MINE! I say that with the biggest smile on my face. Ginger has no idea what we're planning and as soon as we move she'll be scratching the door to get to Laura's after maybe, I don't know, an hour.

    I'm taking the bookshelves damn it! I paid great money for them. She laughed at me and said, "I really hope you take these bookshelves, they're really out of date and not my style."  She went on to show me the ones she's picked out to buy the second I pull those two out of the apartment! I'm taking the smaller appliances too because I'm the cook. She's got Door-Dash on speed dial. This is funny though, I was going through the kitchen to find all the things I want to take, and I opened the silverware (or flatware) drawer. I looked and saw quite a few various forks, spoons, butter knives, etc., and I said, "Hey, why do we have so many different types of flatware anyway?" It's like we just sort of never really stuck with one style, we had a few from when I was first married, then a few from when we lived here or there. Now we have all sizes, types, brands, and shapes of forks that if I had to pull them all out and match them up I couldn't come up with a set of anything. She looked at me and said "You take the thick ones, I like the thin ones."  That was so weird. I was thinking to myself I wanted the thick ones but I didn't want to upset her or make her think I was leaving the bad ones for her. She went on to say that she digs through them all to find the thinner style flatware....what? Thirty-two years you live with someone and you never know things about them -- crazy.

    We have really nice art on the walls and we divided those just as easily. She hated the ones I loved. I didn't really like the ones she thought were best, and it just went that way all through the apartment. Could it be generational? Could it be she's NOT my clone? Or, maybe she is my clone, but she's opposite of myself, and that's why we get along so well to be able to ignore each other nearly every day and night, but never letting the other know that we're ignoring them. We smile and wave a lot. 

    We both keep our respective doors closed so that we don't have to hear each other. I listen to Celtic music rather loudly without headphones because if I have my headphones on I can't hear her screaming at me to answer my phone that's been ringing non-stop.  She stays on her computer all day and night either talking on the phone to clients and customers or with her international friends on one of the many games they play into the night.  There's a lot of screaming from time to time, and I routinely get up and open and shut her door a few times to say "You know, you're really kind of loud!"  She does the same thing to me - - so I guess we're not gonna miss that! Ginger may miss that. I think Ginger secretly likes the drama.  Caity has already called a couple of times to say she will believe it when she sees it, because she thinks we can't handle being apart from each other for more than a day.

    I am leaving her the nasty cat-clawed, chewed up couch and chair that I once believed were really chic and couldn't stop staring at them. That was a few years before a few animals. She'll have them professionally cleaned again and buy covers for them. I'll buy new and forbid her to bring any animals over to visit Ginger. I'll take Ginger to her place. I may make the woman take off her shoes when she comes into my apartment since she goes to the barn most days. I'm leaving her the vacuum and the steam cleaner - - she'll use them more often and I want to start new, not even bringing old dust to my new home. She can keep her dust.  I am taking my saddle and stand. If nothing else it will be a great decoration. When Baeleigh (cat) was alive she loved sitting on the saddle. It was her place to hide, sort of like a "base" where the other cats knew she was off limits.  If Bae Bae were with us I'd take her. She's not like the others. I don't think she ever clawed anything other than her cardboard scratch posts, the ones she was supposed to destroy. Maybe it's a boy-cat thing.

    Anyway, I went through the apartment making a list of what I was bringing, and another list of what I would need. I went to Home Depot online, I went to Pinterest. I went to Wayfair, and I went to Target online as well. I found all the things I need to make my happy little home my happy little home. I am going to be so decked out when I get it - - at least in my head until I can actually afford to buy all the things I wrote down on my two lists.  My lists have lists. Do you do that too? Is that just me? My plans have plans. I plan to plan. There is the pre-plan for the pre-plan in most cases and I get around to executing most of my plans most of the time. I think the fun part is the mental exercises. I draw the floor plans and pencil in where I'll put the furniture I haven't bought. I even label things like "lamp" or "flower pot", I'm not kidding. I'm anal, but she's the one with OCD, so just for fun I left my clipboard in the middle of the kitchen floor and walked away.  LOL...is that mean?

I will absolutely miss that kid - - but I can't let her know that.

Photo Credit:  Me.

Baeleigh on the saddle.

    

The Benefits of Living Alone

 There have been only a few times in my life when I have actually lived on my own without having someone in the next room to either pester or be pestered by, and it looks like I'm about to come up to the next time!  (I'm giggling with glee because I thought I had this taken care of over 6 years ago.)  Years back I was living on my own here in Oklahoma, but Laura, my daughter who was up in Indiana, just HAD to have me move back up with her so she could make ends meet. Well, instead of getting our own place, we were sort of forced to finish her lease with her then boyfriend, and after that was up she decided to move back to Oklahoma and live with her dad for a minute until she could get her own place. This left me with a choice between living with the ex-boyfriend or my son (also in Indiana) and without a job that paid enough for me to move back to Oklahoma immediately, I moved in with my son.  

    Soon after that I found a good paying job in Oklahoma, worked a month in Indiana to get the funds to make the move and there I was....free!!  Free to live in my own place! YEA!!  So I did that, right? I had a little two bedroom house on a really cozy cute street. It was close to everything and it was affordable, adorable, and just mine. It was mine for less than a month before the kid (my 2nd) decided that her dad wasn't the best choice, and yeah, she wanted to move back in with her mom. I am a mom. I am a good mom. Scratch that, I am a DAMN good mom. I let her move in with me and I really thought I was looking at a year tops, but nope. It's been over six years now. Kinda glad to see this chapter of our lives move forward, just too many pages to flip to get to the next phase! 

    We currently live in a really nice apartment complex that I have lived in over five separate times in my life and she's lived in a few times as well with me.  She and her sister had their first independent apartment here as well, and there aren't enough sentences to describe how horribly awful/awesome that was. It was a living and creatively strange way of life for the both of them. Let's just say I won't be able to put into print all the things that happened just 100 feet from my back door. The clean up when they were asked to leave cost me a little over $2000.00.  Did I mention I was a DAMN good mom? Since Caity was then living with me, and Laura had an offer to move in with her cousin 100 miles away, I decided to move to Texas into another two bedroom house on another really cool street because I was working on a feature film about my dog, and needed to move -- being with a kid wasn't a problem until it was a real problem. Laura came back. I think I may be a kid magnet, but I'm not sure.

    THIS IS IT!  I have made up my mind, and Laura has even given her approval. I'll be moving out in about two months to an apartment in the same complex and probably only 50-100 feet away from my little one (who is now 32 years old).  We went over the various good and great reasons why this would be the best decision for both of us. I'll let her keep the two bedroom unit and I'll take the one bedroom unit because this way I can say NO to anyone who asks to move in with me - - not that I would say no, but I can at least have a valid argument if I chose to.  My kids are OLD now. They are really really old, and two of them are married, they have their own houses, they are all three working. They are suitable, sustainable, responsible adults...let's see if we can keep it that way! Leave MOM ALONE!!

    Here are some of the benefits on both sides of the coin dealing with being on my own. I'll start with what Laura gets out of the deal.

• She can make all the messes she wants to in the kitchen without the fear of me coming in behind her to clean them up.
• She can leave her towels and clothes on the floor without the fear of me coming in behind her to clean it up.
• She can have her rescues, her dogs,  her cats, her damn unicorns if she wants, but I don't have to step over their toys, beds, food bowls, pens, or anything regarding or relating to tack!
• She can keep her curtains drawn and her doors closed. 
• She can stay on her computer 24/7 if she wants to without me bothering her about it.
• She can eat PopTarts for breakfast and ramen for dinner without me trying to force her to eat better.
• She can play her X-box without me having her switch it back so I can see the weather that she thinks I can watch on my phone, but I can't because I didn't download the app.
• She can dance and sing without me videoing and telling all my friends (and the world) how great she is.
• She wants my bedroom! It's the bigger one and it has a bathroom in the room so she won't have to travel through the clutter in her room to get to the toilet at night. I've heard her trip and fall a few times. 

    What do I get out this? Oh, you thought she had it good. No.....you have no idea how freeing and how gloriously wonderful this is.  I don't know if I have enough space or bullet points to do this justice, but here we go.

• I can listen to my music loudly, and by loudly I mean loudly. I won't have to put up with her coming into my room and using hand gestures to silence me.
• I can eat my food without it being gone because now when I buy food I can only hope it's there when I go for it.
• I can come into an apartment and smell the latest incense I had burning earlier or on the warming plate and not ode de cat litter.
• I won't be stumbling over cat boxes, litter boxes, tack boxes, dog bowls, pet beds that seem to find their way in the middle of the hall, and sometimes I have strange new animals in my bed expecting me to share my comforters with them. I always share my comforters with them. I'm not about to turn a sweet fuzzy face down, there's no way. 
• I will have 3 large closets to store my things, and nothing will be out of place now. NOTHING.
• I can have a full dining area room sized area to exercise in and not have to retract when I stretch or push the couch back to have more room. I'll have more room.
• I'll buy new furniture that won't be torn up by dogs and cats.
• I can dance in the living room, kitchen, dining room, my room, the bathroom, outside. I can dance and not embarrass my kid. 
• I can burn SANDALWOOD (and cedar, teakwood, and patchouli) again!!
• My place, my entire place, will be clean and free of tiny cat litter pellets that get in my socks and bug the crap out of me all day.
• I'll have a patio with a fence and my dog can be outside when she wants to be.
• I can open the windows and the curtains to let in light.
• I can do my laundry and know that my socks will be in my drawer and not carried off under the couch.
• I can smoke my little cigar.
• I don't have to look at that Texas Longhorn sweatshirt I bought for a friend and ended up giving it to Laura so it wouldn't be thrown out.

    Honestly, there's just so many things to be thankful for. I'm so very happy I have my daughter so close, and we can go out to dinner, we can go to the store together, we can hang out, go to the lake, but you know what, at the end of the day (unless there is a tornado) we will be sleeping in our own places and waving good night to each other through the window while we're talking to each other on the phone. The cord stretches across the breezeway apparently, but at least it's longer than it is right now. Many people told me they would feel so sad for Laura if I decided to move. She is the one who was hoping I would make the suggestion. I could have done this a year ago! She's not only ready for me to leave, she's agreed to help me pack my bags, boxes, and stuff and carry it over to the new place! What a doll. This is going to be good for the both of us. If she really got lonely she could pull her curtains open and watch me dance.

    

    When I was thinking and planning on moving to Scotland she wasn't thrilled because she wouldn't have someone to hang with, shop with, go to the barn with, and all that, but now she's OK with me being out from under her feet, and she's more than OK with not having to eat everything I force on her to eat. I cook and I don't like cooking for one so I cook for two and guilt her into eating it when I don't want to save it for the next day. It's a mom thing. I'm good at it.  Say a few prayers for us! We'll be OK, but at least we'll be independent and happy enough to do our own thing again -- I hope it lasts a long time for both of us. Woot! 

Mental Balance - Responsibility and Recovery

 Let me start off by saying I am not a medical doctor. My Ph.D. is in Administration. Throughout my educational journey, which if you know anything about the process, I was privileged to have taken and passed many hours or credit hours in subjects dealing with human nature.  Depression and anxiety were covered in at least 18 hours of my tracts, and though I didn't choose to go into counseling, I do have a good mind and heart full of compassion for those who are suffering these mental illnesses.  I can't say I have always been so compassionate or even caring, because that wasn't the case.  For many years (and I do mean years) I was the one standing on the sidelines when I found or saw someone who just couldn't pull their own weight, or get it together, and I was complaining openly and to them personally, to pull up their bootstraps and make it happen!  Wow, what a jerk! No lies. That was me. I was that person!

    I've always been a tough nut really. Not much has been able to strip me of my bravado or my I-Can-Do-This attitude. I've been a warrior for myself since I was a kid, and because I have always made my own way I just assumed everyone else was able and willing, even capable of doing the same thing for themselves. It wasn't until more recently, maybe in the past two years or so, that I have realized that my ineptness to show empathy was even a problem.  I have had friends (really good friends) tell me that all through the years of them knowing me they could always count on me bringing them out of their funk, or I'd have the tough-love approach they needed to get back on track. I suppose I counted that as a blessing and thought I had all the answers. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't anxious, and I didn't want them, my good friends, to be suffering, so I tried what I thought was the best approach. I wasn't very nice. 

    About two years ago I ran across a man who suffered both depression and anxiety.  He is a musician and an artist so I immediately had that really rude and under the breath bias in my mind thinking something like, "of course he's depressed, he doesn't have a real job and thinks he can make it as a musician. It's a good thing he's married. At least she can pay the bills."   I listened to all of his music videos. I bought his LPs. I saw that he was in a band actually, not only a solo artist, and I listened to the band's work as well. I was really impressed with his ability to sing, and he seemed absolutely genuine in his love for Christ as well as for his stand on trying to help those with alcohol, drug, and other addictions which can lead to mental illness. I had another thought of, "It takes one to know one, and maybe he can do more good there than I can. He' understands what they're going through, so he can be more open to their excuses when they say they can't work because they're just not ready to go into work and face the people."  I had this mindset for about another year while I continued to watch him and listen to his podcasts about mental health awareness.

    Over the course of time I realized I had been unfair to people with anxiety. I mean, no, I didn't have it, so I didn't understand it, but that didn't mean I needed to toss it to the wind and claim anyone with anxiety is just too weak to matter. I looked back over my own path and realized that I had Jesus with me, and I was supported by friends and some family, I didn't have the best family support. I wouldn't have and couldn't have leaned on a one of them really, but at least I had people praying for me. This guy really didn't have that. Even his own wife wasn't really praying for him. She was really too busy working, and making the ends meet. She really did pay the bills, and he stayed home to watch the kids and keep the house. There's no reason to think roles can't be reversed. I'm not that stone-hearted. 

    I enrolled in college in 1997, I was almost 36 years old. I divorced the same semester in November, and I was suddenly a single parent with 15 hours of college to handle as well as a full time job. I needed to move out of my three bedroom house into a one bedroom apartment with the kids, it had a little den that we called a 2nd bedroom.  For years I worked 40 hours a week, studied, went to class, wrote essays, did research, mothered the kids, drove them to school, made arrangements for them to be kept after school, cooked, cleaned, did laundry, shopped, set and made appointments, and no, I didn't have a single penny in child support.  I didn't have time to be depressed. I didn't have the luxury of being anxious, and there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to play the victim card. I was a mother and I had a job to do! Getting my education was part of that process, and there I was in 2001, graduating with a Bachelors degree in Liberal Arts Pre Law, hoping to go on to Law School and be the best provider possible. That didn't happen.

    My divorce court judge went beyond the scope of her job and authority, and she told me I could have the kids or go to Law School but not both.  She said she knew the challenges. Not that I had just successfully worked a full time job, graduated with Honors and raised the kids on a shoestring budget; but hey, OK, I'll take the kids!  If there was a time for depression and anxiety this was it. I had to make decisions about my life, not worry about what comes next or if I can handle it. I don't have to handle it. I have Jesus.  I know that sounds incredibly trite to some who don't have Jesus, but if you do have Jesus you understand completely. I know the end has already been met, so I don't have to worry about it. That was and is still, my attitude about depression and anxiety, it's just that I don't bark at people now, and I don't throw those facts in their face with fervor. I try to lure and coax.

    Getting a Ph.D. (though 90 hours) was a bit easier actually, the Masters is only 36 hours, not 124 like the Bachelors. I was able to do most if not all of the main courses at night, and my oldest was old enough by that time to watch the two younger kids.  The Ph.D. was 100% online and both degrees were met on time and with higher grades than I expected. Again, I had to maintain a full time job, which by that time was teaching, and I owned an insurance company LLC and sold insurance online to make the bills! This is about the time my son brought home a disabled two-legged dog and I decided to leave my full time job and care for the dog, selling insurance was the only option at that time. For more about Faith, you can Google her; Faith the Two-Legged Dog.  It's a thing, but not part of this blog really. I'm only including it to say that I had a lot on my plate and didn't even dream of thinking about it. I just put it in gear and made things happen. 

    Mental illness didn't hit me. Meanness hit me, rudeness hit me, but mental illness stayed away for the most part. I began noticing that my friends weren't as apt to come by, and my long time acquaintances weren't calling or sending cards at Christmas.  Was it me?  Could it be me? What did I do to piss them off to the point that they don't want to communicate?  Another few (many) years went by before I realized how deep my harshness really was.  It was 2019 when I woke up and found out that I needed to be a LOT more open to the way people feel and the way they handle or don't handle situations. I began really listening to the singer and his story. I began praying for him and following his recovery through his podcasts and interviews.  He was really making a difference in the lives of so many and so many people really appreciated his help and understanding. I loved that. I wanted to be a better tool for Jesus and decided I would be. 

    Today, that very man, that singer, is taking a leave of absence from performing and even posting because he needs time for himself and his own health.  He's suffering and he's in a great deal of mental anguish over what all is happening, what has happened, and in his mind, he can't seem to figure out what will happen, but he knows that he needs to take a few steps back and let Jesus have not only the reins, but the entire carriage.  This is the type of balance I believe is meant for everyone. We have eyes on the inside too, and we need to open them to realize that we can't always be who everyone else thinks we should be. We need to be who we are, and try our best to better that person. We can't be strong for others if we're not first confident and strong for ourselves. We can get there with Jesus. It's next to impossible, no matter what anyone else says, to do it without Jesus. No, you don't have to be RELIGIOUS to have Christ. In fact, religion is often the problem!  Be open, be honest, be willing, and ask Jesus to help you. He will.

    We all have our own lives to live. I can't expect another person to do what I expect myself to do. I can't expect myself to do what I know is impossible. We need to know our limits. That goes without saying when we talk about addictions, but in recovery, we have to set limits too. Being responsible is just as important as being aware.  Taking full responsibility for our own actions, good and bad, is the very least (and first thing) we can do.  I choose to pray and I choose to let God help me. I know there are many many paths to take - - the journey is never smooth.  Take a friend, and be kind to yourself and others. We really don't know what lies behind the eyes of a wounded soul. Even if their face is smiling. 

Photo Credit: Vertigodetective.com 

Photo Credit: Atort Photography 

A New Place

 Today was a great day for study, and a great day for reflections.  As many of you know, I have lived in the same apartment complex for over 100 years and I've lived in about 5 different units over the course of time. I leave, I come back, I stay, I leave again, I over think it, and I move back. This pattern began when  I was just out of high school and I've basically been living the life of a homing pigeon with this same complex for over the long haul.  Well, today I decided to move out of my two-bedroom (basically two-bath) house with my daughter, and I'm going to get my own place - - again.  I laugh when I say that, and the landlord laughed right along with me. Leaving Laura? What the hell?  She's 32 years old, how will she ever survive without her mom?  You can't see me laughing, but I'm on the floor.

    About six years ago Laura called me from her roost in Tulsa saying she believed I needed a roommate. I couldn't possibly be happy living on my own, and she knew the perfect roommate for me. Though I argued with her, telling her I was fine, there was no reason to split rent, share space, or put up with her endless menagerie  of animals, she moved in anyway. I think she may have waited for me to go to the store before employing her older brother to do the dirty work. I know that since that day I've put up with geese being hatched in my bathroom more often than I care to recall.  I have to say MY bathroom, because it's the one without the tub and when I INSISTED that the goose eggs be wrapped in towels and placed in a box with the proper lighting, I also insisted that they not be in the bathroom with the tub! I have priorities. 

    Laura has rescued horses and tied them to the trees downstairs. She has rescued dogs and we sleep with most of them until she can find them homes. We rarely rescue cats, we just pick them up and let them know they'll be fed and cared for until they decide to leave. You don't force a cat to stay if it wants to leave. We have seen ducks, birds of all species, and even a baby goat come through the place, but no more friends. No more cycle of Laura's Resident Farmhouse for me. I'm taking my one dog, Ginger, and I'm heading all the way across the breezeway from my 2nd child.  I have to tell the truth, I am glad I won't be on the other side of the complex. I plan on using her kitchen and dining room to pour the soaps and candles. She doesn't need the dining room and she is rarely in her kitchen. She's more of a pop-it-in-the-microwave type; you know those people. I'm the chef who has no one to cook for. She's a minimalist when it comes to food. (Pop Tart for dinner? Sure.)

    I took a tour of the new place today. I'm not sure when it will be ready, I may wait another month or so in order to give the maintenance guys time to really do it right. Usually when someone moves out they replace all the carpet, appliances, blinds, paint, you name it. This time around if I wait a minute they can go one better and get me new countertops and shelves in my kitchen that I don't have in the current unit. I won't get my requested washer and dryer, that's asking too much, but I'll buy my own. I won't get the new door bell I requested either. The manager took the door bells out about 2 years ago and I now have to listen for Ginger to sound off to let me know Amazon is downstairs backing up their big truck! Ginger has saved me from countless delivery drivers, postal people, the occasional visitor to another tenant, and the dog from the apartment below us. That Chihuahua could be the death of any of us, but with Ginger around, I am alerted the first time a butterfly lands on the bush outside the window! Such a great dog.

    I walked the new place today though, and it was wonderful. I live in a complex that from time to time I can come home and see the maintenance men/man sitting on my couch testing out my television and internet connection to be sure they still work while they hide from the manager. They also test my milk, bread, cheese, cereal, toaster, or cookies I may have out waiting for Laura. (Yes, I'm that mom even if she is 32 years old.) The maintenance men are like family - - hell, they've been here longer than we have been, and we were born here I think. It was so long ago I don't remember. I know the other tenants, I know their families, I know their lifestyles, their secrets, their habits, and they know mine. So many of my old timer neighbors were plotting against me when I was planning to move to Scotland. They were concocting ways to trap me and hide me under the stairs in the little boiler room thing. No one wanted me to leave. I make them brownies, soaps, candles, and any cookies Laura doesn't eat goes out to anyone who happens to be walking by the window. If I see them, I call out, they come by, and they get a cookie - - we have such a tight group and we like it that way. 

    The new place has one big bedroom that is 15 feet by 13 feet. The living room is 15 by 21 feet. The kitchen is around 15 x 12 and the the dining is around the same.  The bathroom is big enough to dance around in really, and I have 3 clothes closets, two in my room and one in the hall. There is another closet when you first come into the apartment and a long thin pantry closet in the dining room. Out on the patio, which is fenced and has a "yard" or garden of about 30 feet by 30 feet, I have another storage closet, another walk in, and it is about 6 feet by 4 feet I guess. It's a good size.  We don't have garages or covered parking, but our neighbors watch out for each other, we don't let anyone who doesn't live here or know someone who lives here come into the parking lot for soliciting. We have block parties that go on for hours in the summertime, with cook outs, swimming, and those stupid silly games that I suck at! Laura's good at them, she's got the wrists for it (being a roper). I suck at all things competitive really.

    I LOVE and I do mean LOVE the new place.  Though I've been in and out of this type of unit a million times I wanted to measure and take photos and get things ready in my mind for it. It may be February before I take possession since I'm going to probably wait for the new countertops. I will hit up Home Depot soon to pretend shop. I love that. I buy a 1000 things in my head and then end up going on Pintrest to be sure it's Jeannie-Approved. (My bestie)  Can't wait, can't wait. I'll be able to listen to my music as long and as loudly as I want to. I won't have to figure out how to change the TV from the X-Box back to normal. I'll be able to kick box and dance since it's on the ground level. I'll be able to let Ginger out to bark at all the passersby and they can't wait to be able to feed her treats and come in the back door for coffee in the mornings. We do have a great set of neighbors....but after 100 years one would think that I should know a few of them pretty well, right?

    I'm OK not moving to Scotland. This is home, and these are my people.

Ginger 

Laura with the Unicorn she rescued. 

    

Comparison: Apples to Apples

 Yesterday I wrote a blog post where I literally gave reasons from my personal experience and my personal opinion as to why I would not be moving to Scotland, but staying here in Oklahoma City. I called it a comparison because that is exactly what it was. I was comparing what I have now to what I would have had. I wasn't saying Edinburgh was this or that, or that Oklahoma City was better because this or that. I was saying I live here in Oklahoma City, and this is what I pay, this is where I live, the type of housing, etc. Literally, because I called it a house once and an apartment once, I was called out for being a liar. What? Well, there you go, still another reason not to move to Scotland. Not if the people who I would be engaging with most of the time can't expand their brain cells to include two words meaning the same thing. I say "pants" for trousers too. They call underwear "pants" so does that mean I'm a LIAR if I say I am wearing new pants today, but they can't see them because I was talking about my trousers? It went downhill fast.

    Here is basically what I tried to say, and it was not accepted.  It was not only not accepted, it was never challenged. They just called me names, told me I was wrong, and accused me of lying and being an idiot. I was the only sober one I think. That's another reason not to make a permanent move to Scotland. The size of the country is 1/2 the size of my own average to small state, and they have twice as many folks, many of which are on disability for being too drunk to work; I'm sorry, but it's true. I know we have the same thing here, so why would I go from a place that has less people in a much larger area who have issues to a place that has so many more people in a much smaller area with more addictions? I want to help not add to the problem.  If I was there I would be a volunteer at a homeless shelter, but according to their visa rules and laws I can't even do that more than a few hours a week, and I'm not allowed to work at all for the entire time I'm on the visit visa. I would have to have a work visa and that means I would have to have a job offer, and that means I would have to be hired but I can't be hired because employers there can't hire me if I am not a citizen!  It's just a mess.  

    I live in an apartment (I will call it a house from time to time, get over it) that is upstairs and on the 2nd floor in America.  They call that the 1st floor, as the ground level is the ground floor. So when I said I went up a flight of stairs but lived on the 2nd floor I was called out for that too! I tried to say why, but I was called an idiot. I was literally put down for having a different word for the same thing. We don't say drink-driving here, we say drunk-driving.  I was corrected.  I call this time of year Fall, but I was corrected, it's Autumn only.  I was corrected constantly, and as a professor of English looking at their atrocious spelling and misuse of words, I had enough of it and I left the group. NO ONE can tell me I had another experience than what I had. It was in fact MY EXPERIENCE!  

    Apples to apples.  What may appear to be a green apple vs. a red apple, may be evident, but it is nevertheless apples to apples.  In Oklahoma I pay $680 a month for a 2 bed 2 bath apartment that is upstairs and in the city about 5 miles from the downtown hub.  I pay no water, garbage, or sewage. I have electric heating and I pay for my own electricity, about $125 USD a month. My cable is connected with the internet and a landline phone for $125 USD. I pay about $40 in insurance each month, but I do have a car and pay a payment of $330 as well as $100 for insurance and maybe $50-60 for gasoline. I pay about $7 to go to a burger joint to eat, and about $13 to go to a restaurant.  I pay $350 for pasture board on my horse, my horse that only cost me $125 USD by the way, and the U.S. Government literally paid me $1000 to keep!  (www.blm.gov/whb but watch them all think BLM stands for something else and say we can't use those initials.) He's an American Mustang.  I live in a conservative state, one that still votes for pro-life, and we are basically divided 70-30 against taking the vaccine, not that we are anti-vax, no, we just don't like this one.  This is the RED apple.

    The GREEN apple is Edinburgh, Scotland. I did my homework. I took an AVERAGE not a specific detail for housing, cost(s) of living, parking, transport, etc. I priced nearby boarding facilities and I considered their Christian values and politics to see if I would be happy living there.  An apartment about the same distance from downtown would be about $1000 a month, all bills would be paid through a council tax of about $200-340 depending on what BAND your house/apartment was considered. I was told to only go with BAND D so that's about $300-340 for bills except for your internet, cable, phone, and insurance.  Internet was $80 which included the cable, no phone line, but you can buy your cell service for around $40 and more if you want unlimited. The other costs were the transport costs. I would not have a car, so a monthly rail pass was $230 and a pass to ride the bus was $75.  So far it's not that big of a deal really, except I would have to give up going to the store when I wanted to, and I would possibly have to walk in weather to get to a bus stop, and then stand at it, wait on a bus, ride to the store, get what I want, and not be able to get much.  Boarding was out of the question!  A horse facility with 80 acres  will not be found near Edinburgh.  There were private stables but I was told the price was $800 a month for pasture and I had to provide the feed.  The religious views are about the same as mine if I attended a church, but the average person considered themselves to not be religious or spiritual, most would in fact embrace pagan ideals.  Not a fan. (Pretty! But not Biblical)

    The healthcare there has our healthcare beat by a 1000x, but I couldn't use it. I would have to have a private insurance contract, and I would not be allowed to even go to a hospital without it. They accept you sure, they don't turn you away, but they insist on you being vaccinated and even to get into the country you have to be vaccinated and that just doesn't set well with my American beliefs or my personal beliefs about the vaccine.  Sorry, but I know too many folks who have been diagnosed with the C19 after being given the vax and even after being boosted. So, it doesn't work, why are they forcing it on us? Why can't we make our own minds up about it? They want to "Save the people" but are OK with abortion? Aren't babies people?  It would just not be a good fit.  They like to say they dogged a bullet by me not going - - so I went ahead and corrected that to "dodged" and called it fair.

    Apples to apples and yes, I do love apples. I both love Scotland and pray for her. I want the country to be the best it could ever dream of being. I want people to visit it, I want them to have a great time. I want there to be peace, love, harmony, and good times for every single person there and here, but to be called out to explaining myself just felt like I was talking to a room full of teenagers with angst and piss wanting to be one-up, better, bigger, badder, braver, whatever.  It was all "look at me" and showing off how big their ass really was online. I know we have those idiots here too, but it just reiterated in my mind that I can just Google map my way through the Highlands and I can visit anywhere and anyplace I want online. I don't have to spend $$$$ going to a place where my idea of it would be ruined the second I was asked to prove what I just said to a person who lives in a place where I am a GUEST.  No thank you. The BIGGEST comparison I can show you is this; if any one of those online morons would come to Oklahoma and want to be shown what we have to offer I would not have treated them the way they treated me, and that includes anyone who has a different opinion, religious view, outlook, world view, or political view. I am not going to spit on someone for being different and think it's OK to brag about the spitting.  

    That being said, I have many friends (about 70) who are from Scotland who I believe would never treat another soul the way I was treated on the Facebook ancestor sites by native Scots. The people I know and have grown to love over the years are caring, kind, giving, and then again, they are born again Christians, every last one of them. THAT must be the difference, right there. You can't expect an unbeliever to act like a believer. You can't, and to do so is futile. I learned that the hard way.  I left the group, and I deleted the blog. I decided to rewrite it in a different way.  I should include links so the less than intelligent who like to call people liars can go and read for themselves.  I should, but I don't have to. I can (because they can't) get into my car and drive to Braum's Ice Cream store and get a sundae. They may have ice cream, but they do not, and will not ever have Braum's. That's only for those of us lucky enough to live in this part of the big wonderful U.S.A.  Oh, and my best friend wouldn't be there, and she wanted me to bring that fact up as well. She said to mention that we have actual football here too - - that's a point I'll give to Edinburgh, as American football is much more fun I think, but it should not be called "football".  

    OK, well, there you go. There is ONE more thing that I would have to give up if I moved to Scotland and that would be my firearms.  I don't mind not taking my firearms to the UK. I get that, I do. I really do understand their reasoning, but a person can't even have a stun gun, a good knife for protection, or a can of mace. Seriously, a officer will take your three-inch blade from you if it is locked. It can be three inches if it is not locked. That's all you can have, and you can't have that knife out ready to protect yourself, you have to have it in your pocket until you need it. Oh, but the bad guy can have one right? Well, there you go, another reason to love the place from afar and just be the happy little Okie that I am. Boomer Sooner.

Photo Credit: Healthfeed.org