Blunders and Wonders (and First World Issues)

 If you follow me, or if you can't stand me, but you read everything I write anyway, this blog may actually tickle your funny bone. (If the Brits don't have an equivalent to the funny bone, I can't help you, but I certainly wouldn't want to be accused of tickling anything cheeky; that would be so embarrassing. )

    I am the biggest dork.  I can't say I'm a geek because I don't know much about Science books. Don't much about the French I took either, but that's another melody. If you know, you know.  I can't call myself a nerd because I absolutely don't know the differences between any anime characters and no, I don't know which characters are DC and which are Marvel. I just smile and nod my head when my kids talk about them. I buy things and I say "OK, is that the right one, honey?"  Truth.

    I am the dork of dorks. I call myself the Queen of Dorkville. I just make blunders, boo-boos, oopsies, and mistakes. I fall all over myself at times, and it's because of the bruises I tend to leave both physically where you can see them, and emotionally where you may not, I tend to try to be right most of the time. No, let me rephrase that a bit, I hate myself and all things around me if I'm wrong. I just can't stand it. I don't often throw massive fits or go into a rage (in public) but I have been known to destroy my couch pillows, while screaming at the top of my lungs into one of them for say, maybe a full ten minutes. I really, really, really, hate to be wrong. 

    It could be because I was born in the Year of the Ox.  Ox, as you know are broadminded, stubborn, strong, forward moving, and now that I think about it, being born in the Year of the Ox may actually have something to do with why I trade on the open market now! Wow, I  just now put that together.  Bulls Rule!!  I was not only born in the Year of the Ox; no. I was born a Scorpio. I wasn't just born any old typical run-of-the-mill daily type Scorpio, no, that would be quite silly. I was born on the last day, of the last hour almost of the Scorpios. It was on my actual birthday, at the time of my birth, I am told, (close to the hour) that the would-be people who follow these things, tell me that they adopted a new time frame and that those born on November 22 from that point forward are no longer Scorpio. WOW...that was close!

    I was born on 11/22/1961 and for my British friends, that would be 22/11/1961. If you look at this date closely you'll see I have two double numbers in my birth, not one, and the year 1961 can be turned upside down and it remains 1961. Try that with the year of your birth. I'll wait.  So, there (or here) I am, rocking an amazing date for being born, rocking an incredibly wonderful time as well, but still, I am so far from being perfect it is hilarious!!  People tell me all the time how right I am, or they'll try and convince me that I'm a freak of nature because I know things. I am not. What I am is one of those people who screw up so often but I don't let others know I have. I cover it well. I make what I do seem as if it was intentional, that covers a multitude of my blunders for sure, and the rest I simply have to admit and move forward. I'm actually pretty good at raising my hand and admitting my folly. I'm not going to lie about that. I don't put blame on others. No. I know it was me!

    I was not only born on an amazing day but I was born into the world of a family whose heritage was settled in the ancient days of the Celts. I have taken the DNA test, but before I had the nerve to put it down to knowledge, I felt that I was at least half Celt. Turns out I'm about 94% Celt. There are tests you can take, and I have, that tell you what percentage of national peoples you belong to. For that, I am both English and Scottish, with a dash of Italian and Iberian thrown in for good measure. The people of my past were Celts before they were Brits. I suppose before that they were Norse. Before that, they were from Japheth. (You can watch Charlie Garrett's sermon on that if you like, here's the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ju2yXBv-gWA&list=PL6Xj_bNWUPxcSDP-5PBJmO5bo7mItQ1kc&index=23

    Today's big bad blunders would include the decision to make a "Fair Night" dinner for my daughter and me. I made sausage balls, cheese balls, fried corn cobs, and fried fritters. Don't do that to yourself people. Don't do it to yourself, don't do it to your residence, and don't do it to your neighbors. My neighbors literally knocked on my door to be sure we were OK. The house was full of smoke from the fryer and the oily stench is still in my apartment. We've had the back door open for hours and it's cold outside today.  Let me just say that I won't be attempting anything so gut-wrenchingly horrible for another 60 years. I promise. 

    Another faux-paux for myself today and/or this week was buying about 11 books online through Amazon and when I saw that they were all really cheap I was thinking to myself that I was pretty clever for finding these deals!! Yep, without looking at any of them, I just ordered them. Books!! I LOVE BOOKS!!  So, there I was, watching all of these really flat books come to my doorstep when they should have been anywhere from 250-600 pages.  Well, with the invention of squeezing font down to the point that you can't read it, and stacking said fonted words on top of each other to the point of probable overlapping, one can have a thinner and cheaper book! Did you know that? Well, now I do too!  I sent every book back to Amazon (Prime member) and I did the right thing. I bought myself a Kindle!

    Even buying the Kindle was a boo-boo that needed to be redone!  I didn't read all the fine print. I was so excited that there was one that was ready to be delivered and it could be here tomorrow! I saw the price, and I did remember that they were more expensive earlier, but I thought (and that's how it starts, I think) that because I had taken all the books back that I must have had credit and that's the reason the Kindle was cheaper. I hadn't been credited with the books at that point. It was too soon.  What I bought was an older model, and yes, on top of it being an older model, it had been refurbished.  When it arrived it had a tiny pin-hole in the screen, and it does bother me when I'm reading. Sorry, I'm sort of a princess like that. I can't stand a tiny cat litter pebble in my shoe either - - don't get me started on the ticking noise in my car!

    I reordered a new Kindle today, and yes, due to my book credit I did only pay $48 for the thing instead of $99.  Woot!!  I can now download all of those 11 books when it comes in, and I'll be set to read my gloriously wonderful fantastical stories all written by authors who were born in and/or lived in Scotland for most of their lives. I'm talking about Sir Walter Scott, Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Arthur Doyle, Kenneth Grahame, and others. I'll even throw in J.K. Rowling because she lived in Edinburgh for 21 years, and she put out a Harry Potter book written in what is called the Scottish Edition. It's written in Scots! Wow! I can't wait. 

    What typically happens to me is strictly a First World Issue. I get that. Nothing I do, nothing I screw up, nothing I ruin will end up costing anyone more than a few shillings. I'm not the demonstrative cyclone of all things female. I am just a woman who from time to time can't stop herself, and I trip myself down a flight of stairs, but try to remember to sit down immediately before spread-eagling down into the foyer. I move my arm just so, in order to avoid spilling my coffee, and there it goes, cascading the length of the kitchen cabinet, tumbling onto the floor, crashing into a million (few) pieces, and I end up saying bad words.  I do that, and I won't apologize.

    If you are anything like me, say a blessing! Thank God today for your woopsies, and your idiot ways. I feel it may keep me humble. Without my ineptness I would be prone, possibly, to believe that I am invincible and we all know where pride will end up, right there in the bin! Kiss the sky with open arms, and think happy and marvelous thoughts of what it is like to be human! Embrace your dork, take your geek to dinner, and by all means, don't let your nerd out of your sight!  Be the imperfect and messed-up beauty that you are. While being so God-wonderful, take a minute to smell the roses, have another cup of tea (or coffee) and read the fine print before ordering anything online. Just a word.

Photo Credit: Me. (My two silly and obnoxious baby girs)

Quinn!! It's Back!

 Quinn is neither male nor female. Quinn isn't living, and therefore it really has no gender. Sometimes people will assess or give a female name to a boat, or say "There she goes!" They refer to cars as shes as well. I don't. My car Stephen is a boy.  If you look underneath him you'll see his...well, his muffler. He's a cutie too, just sayin'.  Quinn, on the other hand, is a comforter, it is not just any comforter mind you, no no no.  Quinn is a certified, bonafide "Coma Inducing Comforter".  That's how you find it. You have to put those words into the search bar on Google or whatever search engine you choose. Quinn was named for the two very male and female things I have known and loved who are named Quinn and who are both big, brawny, beautiful, comfortable, loving, and reassuring.  It is named for Quinn the Mustang mare that I owned briefly and wished I could have kept, and Brian Quinn, the New York comedian from Impractical Jokers. He's hilarious and adorable. There you go.

    About two years ago when I froze my behind earlier than normal because Oklahoma decided to have an ice storm in the middle of a perfectly good October, I decided to buy my last big fat fluffy comforter. I hit up Amazon and I think I put in "Big, fluffy, comforter" and then, what happened next, can only be described as WOWWWWOOOOWWW!!  I found it. Yes, it was expensive. I didn't give a damn. I really didn't care whatsoever at that moment. Amazon had it, they were promising me that they could deliver it the next day, and I simply said yes to the comforter. Done!

    I'm kinda like that really. I have reached the point in my life where I've earned the right to buy myself things that I want. I certainly remember my mom never doing that. She would constantly wait until she asked my dad about buying this or that because she felt that he needed to be a part of every last decision. I don't think that's how I want to live my life. I don't have a husband for a lot of reasons, but if there was a chance that said husband would say no to my spending what I felt was needed, he wouldn't be married to me very long. This is the reason I am not married....well, one of the reasons.  That's not to say that if I had a husband I would spend whatever I wanted when I wanted. Nope, I would talk it out with him, and I would listen to him. If we couldn't afford the comforter, I would understand but if he said no just because he had the authority to do so, I may just have to let him sleep on the couch a few nights without said comforter; he'd have his authority, and he could snuggle right up to that authority and see if it kept him warm.

    I don't want to get off on a tangent about good wives and good husbands. The purchase of a comforter does not a divorce make. Nope. If that could happen the marriage wasn't solid in the first place. There are also those who would argue that the man should have said to the wife "Hey honey, do you think a really big fat fluffy oversized unbelievably soft comforter would benefit the both of us?"  If he would say things like that, the wife wouldn't have to think about spending the money without his input; there's that. He should be taking care of his wife 24/7/365 day in and day out, and she shouldn't have to think about is needed. She could then concern herself with taking care of all the things they had. It's a thought. Like I said, I'm not married. I bought the damn comforter because I wanted it.

    As you can imagine, Quinn is really big, really too big for my Queen-sized bed, but I'm good. The dogs are good. When Quinn isn't on my bed it is in the closet and the cats and dogs make it into their little hidey-hole massive hangout. That's why when I do have to drag it out of the closet to unfurl and unfold, I first take it and the pillow shams to the wee laundromat down the road. It's literally been there for 50 years I think. The machines are pert nearly that old really, but the ones that work still work. I can wash an oversized larger than King-sized fluffy coma-inducing comforter, two shams, my daily pillow, and a pair of trainers I threw in for good measure, all for $7.00.  The place I attend lets me dry for free when I pay for the wash! You really, no really, can't beat that. It's one of those really amazing things about living right here in the big city.

    Quinn stayed on the bed last year (2021-2022) from October around the 15th to about the middle of May.  The year before that, when I bought it, I'd say it was about the same timeframe. Last night was the first really cold night and it was November 4th.  Could that be global warming? LOL.  Don't get me started! Again, yes, the world will heat up, the Bible says so, read it. Learn something. Then pull up a big corner of your favorite comforter, lean against a few pillows while holding your new Kindle, and READ!  Don't forget the cocoa, but please be careful, you really don't want to heave that thing back down the stairs, into the car, and out to the laundromat again. Not only is it HUGE and cumbersome, but people at the laundromat also have to feel it a few times before and after you wash it. They can't get enough of it, and you stand there explaining yourself over and over again because people come and go from the laundromat. It's a thang.

    Yes, I bought myself a Kindle Paperwhite, and I'll probably use it for a minute and then break down and buy an All-New Kindle for myself for Christmas. I think the Paperwhite is good, and I bought it to see if I was going to like holding a Kindle rather than a book.  I do.  That, and I can buy $10 books for $.99 or less. I'm into that. I read a bunch of classics and they're really not expensive for a download. I'll gift this machine to someone I really love because you do show your love and appreciation when you gift a Kindle. 

    I don't know if I love anyone enough to give them a Quinn.  I mean yeah, my kids. I could get each of them one if they told me they wanted one. I'm that kind of mom. I will be that kind of mom forever I suppose...and, just to settle the matter in case you were all really worried for me if I had a real live husband I wouldn't go off and spend money foolishly even if I wanted to. I do have the manners and respect my mother and her mother bestowed on me. I'm just saying the man would be persuaded to agree with me. (she smiles)

    OK, so I have Quinn, I have the Kindle, I have the dog, I have the cocoa, and this is going to be a WAVERLEY night with Sir Walter Scott and the most comfortable, accommodating, over-the-top wonderful hugging quilt EVER!!!  God, I truly love my life. Thank you.

Photo Credit: Me

We Just Seem to Age.

 Of course, we all age differently, but we do actually all age at the same time. It does stand to reason that the rocks we hold in our hands today are the same age as the rocks we see in the sea, around the mountains, and everywhere else. God isn't making more rocks. He made the Earth in literally six days, but we don't know what happened between Genesis 1:1 and Genesis 1:2 as far as time. Man wasn't on Earth at the time, so He could have done anything. I haven't been convinced that the Earth is only X years old, but I do know that man has only been on the Earth for just over 6000 years. No, you don't have to write me and try to "correct" me. I'm not going to change my mind, we can agree to disagree and move forward. My reference is the Holy Bible, so I know I won't listen to anyone trying to say this or that using "Science". Who do you think made Science? There you go!

    When I say we all age differently I'm talking about what we do from Point A to Point B, and how hard we choose to live our lives. It does matter. Certainly, I know that there is a multitude of genetics that play into the aging process. I most assuredly understand that genetics, injury, disease, illness, and other factors take part in who will look their age at say, 60, (I'm 60) and who will somehow manage to beat the clock a bit and only look, say....22. LOL Right? I'm laughing. Yes, you can't see me, but I am over here just rolling. Would I want to look 22 again? Hell yeah! I was a hotty!! I was really cute and fit, and let me tell you, I had no idea that one day I wouldn't look like that, so yeah, when I get to Heaven, I want to look like I did when I turned 22.

    I have been so very blessed in that I haven't had to deal with genetic diseases and disorders really.  My mother's side of the family has a long history of living very long lives, and they tend to be healthy while they live their lives. I don't really remember any one of them being on a particular diet, or working out, I just know that they worked hard, walked a great deal of the time, they didn't smoke or drink (Granpa smoked) and they didn't stay up too late. Granny always said that sleeping 8 hours a night was the secret to being stronger in the morning. I love sleeping. I could do that 10 - 12 hours a day without being asked to do so.  Dad's side of the family, however, is another story.  Both of his parents died really early; one was 54 I think, and the other just 70.  Both died of brain issues, and both had seemingly healthy bodies, but my Grandpa was a boxer and he worked in the labor field. He was injured. It affected him later as he aged.  Grandma Stringfellow literally could have been one of those women who died of aluminum poisoning from using toxic sprays including hairspray.  My dad's brothers all died before they were 70 I think, or close to it. Daddy was the last to die, and he was 85. (Note: he gave up smoking at age 35 I think, and he really never drank.)

    I have friends I went to high school with who have passed away. I have friends from high school who are barely holding up, and when I look back on their lives I can see key points as to why that may be.  Drugs and alcohol aside, some had served in the military and came back with true mental issues that they didn't have before they enlisted. Some had other neurological or mental issues that developed from using this or that product or being exposed to things in their occupational environments. Others have developed disorders such as chronic restless leg syndrome, and diabetes, they've become obese, or they don't eat at all, and they literally look like walking skeletons. I wish I could wrap my mind around some of these disorders so that I might be a better advocate, but I know I can always be there to listen and support them.  I can't say I've remained friends with many of the folks I went to school with but I am typically available and willing to be a friend.  We need friends. 

    I decided, and it was a decision, on August 3, 2020, that I would change my body. I would change my mind. I would change the chemical breakdown in my blood so that it flowed better, and so that would be fortified with the proper nutrients it needed. So many of these nutrients, vitamins, minerals, and hormones are no longer being produced as we age. We need to, we MUST, research this and do something about it if we're going to combat the aging process long enough to both enjoy our lives and the lives of those we love.  It's just so much easier to let the curtain fall and "age gracefully", but that choice sounded pretty cop-outtish to me. I thought NOPE, I'll fight to the finish! I'm going to be one healthy woman if it kills me!  Why not? I thought to myself I can either die of being a lazy fat ass or I can work hard and die later from dropping a dumbbell on my head. 

    On August 3, 2020, I think (If I'm honest) I weighed 216 pounds. I know I weighed 204 about a year before that because I saw myself on the doctor's scale and just about shot a brick out my bum! WHAT? Are you kidding me right now? This is so stupid! I'd tell a friend or family member and they'd say something like "We all age and get fat" or "It's normal to gain weight after 50. It's too hard to lose it." I had one ex-friend say that she's not willing to even try, she has no man in her life to impress. WHAT? Who needs a man to impress! Impress yourself! Damn!  Well, from that day forward I struck out and did what I could to both stop eating poorly and to watch my exercise as well as my water intake. Oh, and I wasn't really sleeping that long either, maybe 6-7 hours a night. On weekends I  could catch up, right? That changed! I decided it would change, and I think maybe we have to do that. We have to decide.

    I have a friend right now who is in his early 40s. He's been diagnosed with PTSD from past issues, he's nearly been killed several times due to self-hate, others hating him, being caught in terrible storms, car and bus accidents, and once he just tripped and tumbled down the long side of an extinct volcano! The man has been through it, we'll just say that. He was thrown from a ferry when he was 12 and had to swim over a half mile to safety in freezing water! This man has seen his share and mine of trouble.  He was recently told he is pre-diabetic. He was over 250 pounds when he was told that. He has been a drug addict, an alcoholic, homeless, arrested, beaten up, and yes, he's been the one to bring on most of his abuse. He admits that. He has deep tissue issues in his legs now. He also has an unusual heartbeat that the doctors can't quite pin down. I told him I had one too! It was detected in me at the age of 2 and here I am about to turn 61 and not one doctor can tell me why I have an extra "click" or "tick" at the end of my regular heartbeat. I'm still kicking!!

    The reason I told you about my friend is to say that he also made a decision about a year ago to go 100% clean. He'd been off the drugs for years but still battled the alcohol. He only drank now and then, but when he did he became the Mr. Hyde that his Jekyll truly hated. He was not a happy man. It cost him his home and hearth. It was time to change.  Just under a year now, January will be a full year, he has lost 70 pounds, has been working out, and has real live huge bulging muscles that really look great on him! He's eating better, of course, dropping the sugar, and most of the carbs, but still enjoying life with a few treats. He's working out, he's sleeping, and he decided to go to a therapist for the first time in his life to deal with nagging mental pictures in his head that he can't figure out if they are real memories or ones he's made up.  I don't ask him, and if he doesn't tell me I don't worry about it. I pray and I thank God for the continued help. What a difference a decision makes!

    What do I do? OMG..how much time do you have? I take vitamins of course, but I also take a bunch (and I do mean a bunch) of other suppliments for better female health (specifically) and for overall aging health.  I'm into DHEA, Zinc, Chlorophyll, Raspberry peptides, kacip fatimah, turmeric, sea buckthorn, and other omegas. I'm into protein shakes, adding supplements to those as well, and I drink, eat, chew, and ingest anything with collagen. I've even put it directly on my face, take baths with it, and I'm over here really hoping it works because I do spend a lot of money on it. It's cheaper than cocaine and better for me.  I'm into exercising, walking, working out, doing lifts, and using my vibration plate to loosen my muscles before I do yoga before I work out. It's all about moving. When I'm at work I use the standing side of my desk at least two hours of the day, and yes, I dance while I'm working at the desk. I'm not all that obnoxious about it, but I'm moving! You have to move!

    Water is the key to a healthy body as well, and if you didn't know that you should. Some people say you should drink 1/2 your weight in ounces. So if I now weight 170 (stop it, some of that is muscle) I should be drinking 85 ounces of water a day. Well, I guess I'm still thinking I'm 216 because I drink well over 100 ounces of water, lemon water, green tea, and coffee, but I don't count the coffee in the intake. The water is the measured liquid.  Yes, I am the pee-queen too; but that's OK, I can take that, it's a small price to pay for health.  When I was sicker than sick about a month ago, I thanked GOD nearly every single hour for the help He provided because this body was NOT having it. I couldn't function! I can only imagine how bad it could have been if I hadn't started out with a relatively healthy body, to begin with. It really really matters. When we let ourselves go we can get sick and not fight off whatever decides to invade us!  Do it for that reason! Do it for YOU, not to impress someone else. Geez!

    OK, I'll stop now and let you go.  I have taken to taking a bit of hemp now after working out and just before going to bed. It relaxes me without being addictive and it helps with the flow the oxygen in my blood.  Getting old sucks! It's not for the weak, it's not for the queasy either. We fight reproductive organ issues, vein issues, heart issues, breathing issues, dizziness, hunger, and all sorts of things just because we get older. I'm wearing glasses for the first time and even though I'll be 61 in a few days, and I'm just now wearing glasses, it still sort of pisses me off that I have to! 

    I hate using my age as a reason for getting old! I keep thinking there must be something else I can do, but I do know I can only go so far, and then it's time to say goodbye for the duration. Until that day, or until Jesus decides to sweep me off my feet, I'm going to push this envelope to the max!!  Working out, eating correctly, sleeping longer, being rested, reading more, and staying aware of both my surroundings and world events. This life is a good life, He has given it to me, and I'm going to make the best of it!  

    John (my friend) was saying that he probably won't find another woman at his age that can handle all of his past, or his present and what comes next.  I took his face in my hands and reminded him that we're not here to please others, and while it's great to have a good friend to love and share the world with if that person can't understand you enough to show the right side of compassion, passion, love, and commitment, they aren't worth having in the first place.  We are who we are, and though we can change, and though we make a 1000 mistakes, when we decide to be the better us, we don't have to, and we don't need to settle for someone who will resign to be with us - - we are enough. We always were.

    

    

    Photo Credit: Me

    

First Day Back (Arms Day)

 Wow!! It only took ONE DAY of complaining and blogging and there she was, my gloriously gorgeous fun, and fanciful daughter Laura, willing to be a bodyguard for me at the YMCA. Sweet Sourpatch Stunning Beauty Caity Baby Baby Caity would have volunteered for sure, but she does live in another city, far far away.  Laura stepped up, and she decided to hulky-bulk up too.  As long as I'm willing to foot the bill, for now, she's all about protecting me and keeping me safe and clear from any would-be chatters, suitors, creepers, or just people who fancy a chat with me when I'm working out at the gym! I don't go to the gym to chat!  Thank you, Laura. 

    So, we joined and then we waited until today to go since we haven't really prepared our bodies for working out on a near-daily basis.  We've decided to go to the gym 4x a week, and work out at home the other days, but when we do that we won't make a thing of it. We're talking just 15-20 minutes of light lifting and kettlebell workouts. We have a few different sizes of dumbbells and weighted bars. We use them to squat while we talk. I don't mind talking to Laura when I work out, that's another matter altogether. I can't very well ask the old man or woman staring at me at the gym if they let the dogs out or if they did the dishes earlier in the day. I can't complain about the wash not being done, or the chair being pulled out into the middle of the floor again! What's up with that? Oh, she uses it to do a back stretch. Put it back where it belongs!  Geez! (:

    So, we went to the YMCA and checked in.  We noticed immediately that we were virtually the only people there, so maybe the later we go the better. We went at 6:30 p.m. and we think that may be a magical time! I'll test my theory.  If I need to go at 7:00 p.m. to avoid the chatterboxes I can do that. They also relieve two of the workers too, and they have been an issue in the past with them trying to recruit me to volunteer for a spin class or an adventure class.  No, no, and again, NO! I just want to go in, grab a machine or three, use them, row for a while, do the battle ropes, hang on the rings to get the muscles pulled out a bit, then walk 3 laps and go home! Fun times. 

    We did find the new (really old) machines are rather unique and heavy-duty, more than industrial really, and I can say that they are definitely going to do what we need them to do. Laura and I both used the arms, lats, and pec machines today (I also used the rowing machine while she did a few free pull machines) We met in the middle and did the lats and there is a sitting row, which of course they are all sitting rows, but this one is where you sit, put your feet up, and only use your hands to grasp the pulls (two positions) and you pull back. As you pull the machine "arms" go out and around a bit before coming back to you, and yeah, you can add up to 250# if you want to. I think I did 30# before I decided to lower it and do less weight and more reps. I'm really not trying to bulk but to add tone and muscle so I can get the gut to disappear. (It's a thing. You build muscle all over and the flab is supposed to disappear. We'll see if it works.)

    For the most part, we did all we needed to do in about 30 minutes. We didn't rush ourselves, we didn't take our time. We just worked and we think that about 30 minutes at a time will be good. She may go during the day as well since she works from home and can do that. I'll just do the 4x a-week thing, then the light lifts at home while I read - - one hand for the book, one hand with weight. I can see that happening. When I need to turn the page I can use my nose -- it's a Kindle! I will make this happen people. Sir Walter Scott and I will be in shape before the Black Dwarf dies! If you don't know, you don't know Elshie the Recluse and I can't help you. Read a book!

    Our Y has a great donation bin just as you walk into the door. I'm dragging two bags of clothes there tomorrow. I'm also going through the kitchen cupboard and bringing whatever canned goods I can carry.  They have a food pantry!! I love that! I love it when the community can give back. Such an honor. God has been so good to me, and I have every intention of being good to and for others. I just don't want to spend a bunch of time chatting it up with anyone while I donate either - - sorry, I just don't like small talk really. It's needless, useless, and dumb.  Besides, they may find out I'm this over-the-top right-wing conservative who's both pro-life and pro-Trump. Maybe I should just wear that t-shirt and no one would come up to me. I mean yeah, but I don't want to end up on the wrong side of a row either! Best we leave our politics at home. The gym is for battling ropes, not tongues.

    I came home and grabbed my hemp protein to make a shake. Laura uses the standard whey powder. I'm too cool for that you know. I have hemp, and I add collagen to it. I also add powdered vitamins, turmeric, and a bunch of everything else. She tasted it and nearly gagged. "Oh my gosh mom, it tastes like grass, or maybe dirt!"  Well, there you go.  I love that. Could be a leftover memory from when I was a kid. We Boomers really didn't have much more to do when we were kids, so yeah, mud pies and dirt clods.  We survived.  Heck, we were thrown in the back back of the station wagon without belts. The back window was usually rolled down so dad's cigarette smoke could escape, and since the speed limits weren't really set, we got where we were goin' a bit quicker in those days. Again, we survived.

    It's time to get this body in shape and do all I can do to it before I say my last farewells.  It's a win-win.  I'm having fun now, and if I leave this place, I know where I'm going. I don't think Heaven actually has a gym, but if it does I can probably find more time to carry on a bit of conversation with someone. After all, eternity is a very very long time.

Photo Credit: ManitobaHarvest.com

Prove Me Wrong. I'll Wait.

 Because I want my account(s) to stay open and not be banned, suspended, or otherwise permanently taken away from me, I won't say names. I'll let your imagination run freely.  We can do this. I can give clues, you can pick those clues up and probably figure out what it is that I'm trying to say. C'mon, it'll be fun. Let's have a go at it.  I'll talk, you can read, and we'll have to wait a few days to see if I'm right, but when I am, I will laugh. You can laugh too; and if you're one to shun or disagree with my thoughts or opinions, you can laugh when I'm proven to be wrong.  I won't hold my breath for that.

    Those who hold themselves to be above and beyond being touchable have apparently been "touched". There is one, in particular, an older woman who not many envy and more so despise.  Because of her position in politics in a particular free world, she has a way of thinking she is without reproach. She doesn't believe she will serve a day in any sort of detainment or go through any official (formal) reprimand for having been a party to, possibly involved in, insider trading. As a trade smith, the very thought of others cheating and taking advantage of the system is both appalling and disgusting; not to mention extremely illegal for anyone,  her included. Her husband is also included. Let that sink in for a minute.

    There comes a time when the often too high and mighty do in fact tilt and eventually they fall.  Sometimes, but not as often as some may hope, these too-big-to-fail types even find that they have expired; at least their usefulness has.  This is where we find ourselves today; we are spectators in a game of idiot chess.  We have to watch because we don't have a ticket to the main event. We can only hope the truth is spread evenly, but we all know the rumors are created for the purpose(s) of pretending to be true. Again, the idiots will believe the lies. Those of us with our brain cells mostly intact will know; we always know. The problem is that we can't pay our way into the circles we need to be in to find the facts. We're told the "truth" and what the "truth" will be. We're told the story. We're not asked to believe it, we're commanded to. The narrative is their gold. It's the only gold they have, the rest is printed paper. Like them, nearly worthless, but still in circulation.

    Last week a certain nobleman was attacked in his house late late at night. Oh, no worries, there's a wall. No worries still, there are guards. There should be absolutely no reason for these things to occur, not when there are over 20 hidden and in-sight cameras loaded and readily aimed leading up to the house, surrounding the house, and of course, throughout the house. If there is or was a perpetrator, an attacker, they'd know long before he or she could strike...right?  

    Seems on THAT day the 20+ cameras weren't working. Seems on THAT night, the guards were released.  Seems at that particular time no one was really there to see exactly what took place, but low and behold the inside trader has been beamed with a hammer and/or other alleged weapons. Did they show the blood? Did they at least take photographs? I hear they have a wonderful Hollywood makeup artist on speed dial. They'll need it.  Well, not really, since no one seems the least bit obligated to actually PROVE there was an intrusion, or to PROVE there was an attack. We have their word though -- yes, we do. We always have their word.

    Here's my thought.  She got caught. She's pissed. He doesn't care. He has $$$$ from it, and even though she does too, she's not really a concern of his anymore. He can go away and never be heard from again - - oh, but that won't do. That's a scandal in the making. Oh, I know, how about a convenient break-in, and a bit of a bam bam over say the face?  Surgeons may be needed to do reconstructive surgery, and then, after he's no longer resembling the man we know and sneer at, he can "die" in the media and simply walk away.  No one will search for the inside trader because he died. No one will seek revenge on the unsuspecting and unknowing wife, because she's a widow. Save face!!  (Change face, hide face)  Prove me wrong.

    We'll need to wait a few days to see how he "recovers" and how dire it will become. You just never know. He could find the weather in the South Pacific to be to his liking this time of year. Jeffrey did. We wait. We go about our lives and those of us who know we'll never know the truth simply shake our heads knowing we could and would never do what they do. How do I reconcile it? Well, this is their reward. They'll never have what we have. They will never see the streets of Glory. They'll never be in fellowship with the One and Only Truth. This is what they have. It may be $$$$$, OK, let's say it's $$$$$$$$$$ and more...but I'm reminded of what is written: "What profits a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his soul?" What indeed. I hate that these things happen, but it's so rampant these days. We are expected to trust whatever the narrative gives us. Sorry, I have a hard time doing that. I guess it's because I can think.

Photo Credit: vecteezy.com

Why I Don't Go to the Gym to Workout.

 I really have to watch myself because I can become rather heated about this particular subject matter. I've been so vague and so round-aboutish about some of the (main) reasons I don't go to the gym to work out, and I need to stop that. I need to be honest. I need to tell the full truth, not just part of it. I need to just be blunt and on point.  I will be equally honest and say that a bit down the road Laura and I may end up joining again, but it's OK because I'll have her to stand with and to work out with, so that some of the things that happen to me when I go solo, don't and/or won't happen.  I say don't and/or won't because some don't happen if she's there, and some things won't, or would never happen since she is there. I'll explain.

    My gym, the YMCA, is right across the street from where I live. I can literally walk right there, and work out from 5:30 a.m. to about 8:00 p.m. on most days. The problem is that they close at noon on Saturday and they're not open on Sunday. I usually use this as an excuse to stop working out at that particular gym, and heaven itself knows I'm far too spoiled to be inconvenienced to get in my car and drive to another location. It's not going to happen as long as I have what I need at home. (If that sounds cheeky, I'm actually being cheeky.)

    Laura being with me will not change the operation hours of the YMCA, but what it will change is (are) some of the other excuses that I typically don't talk about.  One excuse and I have mentioned it, is that some of the equipment that I use is often down or broken, sometimes they just replace it with something I won't use, but that others will possibly use. I hate that. So, Laura being with me won't have an effect on that either.  What she can do for me is ward off the would-be flirtmasters who tend to creep up and wait for me to get off a machine, but they aren't really waiting to use it, they watch me. They don't even hide it. They just stand there and stare. Some even smile and wave. It's annoying and I don't care how fun I must be to someone trying to strike up a friendship, I am NOT THERE to chat, talk, converse, flirt, date, or otherwise be interested in any part of a conversation with anyone. I'm there to work out and that's it. So, Laura being there provides another line of defense. You have never laughed so hard as you will or would to see my 33-year-old daughter turn into an imaginary hulk-woman and seemingly stalk toward someone who she deems to be a bother to me. She'll even begin to growl. I love it. I'm sorry, I should be utterly humiliated and embarrassed but instead, I'm just so entertained.

    Aside from the creepers who approach me, I am also approached by trainers. This really upsets me because I'm there working out on my own, and it's VERY VERY clear that I have an earbud (or two) in my ears. I'm usually talking to my personal trainer on the phone while working out, but here they come, thinking I need assistance because my form or my method isn't what they are used to; it's not the way THEY instruct.  Go fish! I would say something else, but hey, let's try to remain calm.  I hate it because I'm not paying for their advice. I've not asked for it either. I'm not holding up a sign that reads "I need help".  I am literally there working out and not talking to anyone, you'd think they'd get the hint when I see them, nod my head to acknowledge them, and then quietly walk away from them. NOPE. They take that as a challenge to hunt me down and give me their PROFESSIONAL opinion. STUFF THAT, please, right up where the Sun don't shine! I have my trainer on speed dial and I listen to HIM, and that's not going to change.

    Laura is not my personal trainer, but my personal trainer is also her personal trainer, and often times he gives her the instructions and she'll pass them on to me when we're working side by side. Also, if she and I are working out together she's the one on the phone with our trainer because he's her brother, and she can cuss at him, call him names, and make him crazy, and it's more fun for everyone.  I know exactly what I'm doing because I'm doing exactly what I'm told to do. Laura is good for something else too.  She stops people from coming up to us and asking us if we're going to be using this or that machine. She gives them the hiss and I don't have to. She starts to sway back and forth and as she raises her arms into the air that's typically when they realize she's not really approachable. LOVE MY GIRL!

    We were members of an all women's club at one point and that was a HUGE mistake. Both of us were hit on nearly every damn time we walked through the doors. We complained about it, threatened legal action, and it was only when we actually did call our attorney to ask the firm to send a letter of cease and desist did the manager finally do something about the personal harassment. The men are nowhere near as rude, nowhere near as bold, and nowhere near as gross about their approach as those women were (are).  You'd think in 2022 people would be TOLERANT enough to understand that not everyone is into that sort of thing. No, I won't walk around in my birthday suit for you in the spa, stop asking! Don't pull on my towel, it wasn't funny the first 10 times, and it's not funny now!

    About a year ago I bought a vibration plate to use at home and it really helps to loosen up the hips and joints before you stretch. This is something every gym needs but not one gym actually has. I found it at my chiropractor's office. Amazing is just too tame of a word to use to describe it.  I have hand weights, bell weights, bar weights, elastic bands, weighted balls, jump ropes, battle ropes, and a few other things I can use to get myself into shape at home, so that's the reason(s) I don't really want to go across the street. I will add that the machines can't be replaced really. I love them. I wish I had a few. They are incredibly necessary to tone and get the true results I want. I can try to mimic them, but the truth is the gym has what I need and I will probably end up going back once I can talk Laura into body-guarding for me again. She may do it if I pay her membership!! (Hint, hint, if she's reading.)

    I know the gym can be a place to socially gather and talk. I get that and I would never once ever never stop someone from having that as a means to communicate with their buddy; no way.  I, however, have just as much right (and freedom) to go and NOT communicate with anyone. I'm not a shrew. It's not like I go in with a sourpuss face and refuse to speak to anyone, but I'm just the type to go in, work out, and listen to my Celtic rock a bit too loudly in my ears until my son calls me to do the drill, and when he does I'm all about doing what he's commanding; not into social butterflying at that point. NO, I don't want to join you for a spin class. No, I don't want to join you for hot yoga. No, I don't want to hang out in the hot tub and talk about drinking and whatever. I am just there to torture my glutes! Thank you.

    Wow, I really went off on that rant, huh? I did. I did because I'm fed up with it. I tried to make it happen about six different times. I keep thinking "Oh, OK, it will be different this time" but NOPE, it never is.  The hours suck, and the staff is FANTASTIC except for their persistence in trying to train me when I have no interest. The place couldn't be cleaner, it really is awesome. I love the heck out of the facility, but they do have to find a balance between using older equipment that is more suited for the aged and finding newer and more effective equipment for people who are wanting to actually build muscle.  I was told recently that they have undergone a bit of a face-lift and I need to revisit. I'll try it; but not if I can't bring my bulldog! (Laura)

    If for no other reason, I need Laura there to cheer me on when I suck at whatever it that I'm doing. She's not any better at it than I am, but together we make a great cheerleading squad!  We could motivate each other to the Moon and back! Woo Hoo!!  OK, I'll be nice and say goodnight, but you know what? I feel better now that I've blown off a little steam. It needed to be said.

Photo Credit: Bleedingcool.com

November Approaches!

 For a host of people, the day before Halloween means you put the final touches on your yard decorating and your scary drainage ditches in your neighborhood! I was laughing with a bit of surprise today when my friend showed me photos of how her neighbors put some cute and creepy killer-clown decorations inside the drainage ditches on her street! Don't get me wrong, I think it's hilarious, but you have to wonder if they'll lose their property either by fate or by the weather! It's cool though. I think Halloween has gotten out of hand really, but it's still a very visited and anticipated holiday. Can we even call it a holiday? The facts are clear that the next day, November 1, is the true holiday. It's All Saints Day! The word "Halloween" is a combination word, "Hallow" means to be revered, and the "ween" part is another word for evening, so Halloween is the evening of All Saints Day. Cool, huh?  It's also a Scottish thing, just in case you didn't know. Seriously, it is. Google that.

    NOVEMBER!!  Oh, I can't say enough about the month of November. Oh, it is MY month. I celebrate it from the tip of the top to the very last drop of the hour on the last of its days. I love the month, and because it is my birthday month, I typically end up spoiling myself just a wee bit more than I do most other months. You have to know I'm very very good to myself. If I want something, I find a way to get it. If I can't make it happen, I find a way to survive. Today, although not officially a November day, was close enough to the date to allow me the pleasures of going into Barnes & Noble to find a few books, and you know, look around. Who knows what one may find in that incredibly versatile store?  So many things to think about, so many things to look at. I ended up with a fancy picture cookbook; the type with huge pristine photos of the prepared foods on the right, and the recipe on the left. Just can't get enough of that; not in my heart anyway. I LOVE FOOD!!

    I also bought myself another tin of Harney & Sons teas. This one is Citron Green. Twenty sachets to a tin, and about $8.00, so not the worst price. I've seen them online twice for as much. I feel pretty good about it. I'm actually imbibing now, and I must be honest, it's worth about what I paid. It's not strong, but it is good. Greens don't tend to be overly powerful unless you're talking Gunpowder green, which is so very succulent and awesome....love it.  This tin will serve as a refillable tin, I will continue to buy replacements. I think I have 23 tins, but many I won't replace the blends for them. I either didn't like them enough, or they can't be found! It's rough trying to find Cherry Blossom! I made a HUGE mistake when I bought something like Vanilla Hysop, I can't remember the exact blend, but no. Just, NO.

    Basically, the way this works is I have been saving all year long from January to about October, and I have a little kitty of money reserved for me to buy myself whatever it is that I think I can't live without. I may end up buying something in July or March, but it comes out of that stash! I, therefore, know, that when or if I do use the reserve it will indeed take that money out of my spoiling fund. I could add to it I suppose, but I'm rather disciplined. I don't want to outdo myself or get to the point that I'm overly obnoxious or carefree. I mean, that would be...well, possible.

    I'm in the book-buying phase right now. I have been on Amazon and purchasing classics from Sir Walter Scott, Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Arthur Conan, and other Edinburgh favorites.  I'm also thinking of buying either a Kindle or a Nook so I can physically carry the little book reader with me to work; most of the classics are actually free! What? Truth.  I'm OK with that. I just learned today, and I can't believe I never knew this, that after 97 years an author does not necessarily have the right to royalties. I had NO idea. This year the Mickey Mouse tales and/or images are going to become public domain! Wow! That's very interesting. Seriously, I did not know that. I suppose it makes sense though; it would be hard to give royalties for say, "A Christmas Carol" to the estate of Charles Dickens. I just never knew. The Barnes & Noble salesman told me as we discussed the benefits of buying a Nook over the Kindle; which is an Amazon product.

   With November also being a rather cool month, food (warm food) becomes so important to me. In the past, I've taken to going to Pinterest to find 20-25 dishes that I think I would like to make, but this year, today, I bought the picture cookbook, I'll post the photo here so you can see it. I'm going through it today, and making a list of all things wonderful which will be imitated, created, mimicked, and/or explored. I can all but guarantee you I will be adding to, taking away from, and altering things. I have mincemeat in a jar right now, waiting for the month of December, and you know I'm already thinking of adding cranberries and walnuts to it. I may even add a bit of orange flavoring. I can do that!! I can!! I might!! 

    I already purchased the espresso machine this month (October) and it did come out of the birthday kitty money, but it also came with an enormous discount and credit from Amazon because I had taken a few things back. Oh, and I have to send back the three books that I just bought because they are written in tiny tiny font! No, I'm not about to sit in my chair with my new Citron Green wearing my silly reader glasses, and STILL not be able to read the words. That, and the words are right on top of each other, basically no space whatsoever. That may work for some, but not this wordsmith. I don't worship words, but I do respect them. I can't believe someone would think it's OK to squish words of a classic in that manner. I should put my middle English on and really blast the hell of it, but instead, I'll just say "Tut-tut" and move on. Dummies.

    I think the Kindle or the Nook is the way to go because I can order 100 books really, and be done with it. The books are usually free for the most part because I'm talking OLD OLD books like well, Rob Roy, The Letters, Ivanhoe, all the Sherlock Holmes books, and Kenneth Grahame's The Reluctant Dragon.  Oh, and yes, Oscar Wilde. You can't have classics anything without including that man. It's not done. I was just not that happy at Barnes & Noble when I ventured to the Classics section and found it to be dismally small. They had one large bookshelf devoted to it. I wanted to buy standard-sized books from Scott and Stevenson that wasn't font size 10!  Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING was in stock for either of the men, and nothing was there for Daniel Defoe either. What bookstore doesn't carry Scott, Stevenson, or Defoe? Wow...our world is truly coming to an end.

    Defoe? Oh, have you not heard of Daniel Defoe? Wow. Well, he's only one of the greatest journalists who ever wrote and he did so during the years (high years) of piracy and sea robbing. He is amazing. He also wrote Robinson Crusoe, so you may have heard of that. I will read it again, but my favorite of his works are the works about and fully detailing the criminals, thieves, robbers, and Barrons of the sea! He met several of them personally, and he does not romanticize their actions. He doesn't describe it in gruesome detail, but he allows the reader to decide whether or not the actions of these rough men were deserving of their fate(s) to the gallows for the most part; some were drowned, some fought and lost, others escaped to worlds such as Madagascar and Indonesia. Crazy tales!! Fit for the wild imagination I've always had; thanks to my mom and her endless love of going to the library. 

    November is the month of Thanksgiving as well. It is the month of finally being able to wear sweaters, woolly warm socks, and maybe even a lighter onesie!! I have several just in case it gets cold enough during the month of November. I think it's a good evening when I can brew a wee cuppa cocoa, wear a onesie, cuddle up with the dog on the chaise and read a good book. Come on November!! Hurry!! You never disappoint.

Photo Credit: Me, but the book is Secret Restaurant Recipes (the ultimate collection) by Publication International.

    

Reading for Understanding. (and FUN!)

 I'll tell you what is NOT fun, and that is having to put glasses on to read now! Oh my goodness, it's official, I'm middle-aged. (Laughing) That means I'll live to be around 120 so there's that. I finally have to wear reading glasses. I actually have a prescription and a pair of "real" glasses, but the prescription is literally something like .50, and my optometrist sort of chuckled when he wrote out the Rx for me to take to the front of his office where I very proudly picked out the rims of my first ever pair of real glasses. I don't wear them because they have a bifocal. I didn't realize what he was saying when he described it to me.  The way the bifocal works is that I have to be looking down to use the reading portion of my lens and I hold my book at eye level, so that didn't work for me. I went to the local drugstore and bought a pair of 100 readers and I'm good.

    I could have sworn, but I would have been wrong, that the average book is written in 12 font. It isn't. It is written in 11 font. You wouldn't think that would make a huge difference and I guess really it may not, but it makes just enough of a difference to me that the words are rather blurry and I can't tell the f's from t's or the u's from v's. It's annoying. My brain functions correctly, so it throws all the characters in the mix and comes up with the right words, but that does take an extra step of braining it and there are times when seriously, I don't really want to brain much. I just want to read.

    With me, it's all about the words. I write them. I type them. I read them. I create them, and I even dream about them. I was working today and out of NOWHERE, a very romantic and quite intimately suggestive poem popped right between my eyes on the inside of my skull. I had no other choice but to stop my employment duties for a minute and quickly jot down the words that were feverously cascading through the folds of my imagination. I'd tell you what I thought, but I'm not finished with it yet and I don't want to spoil the process.

    I decided (because I do that) that I would start reading more classic books from Scottish authors and by Scottish authors, I am not just limiting my selection to Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson. I could and will include J.K. Rowling only because she lived in Edinburgh for 21+ years as an adult and wrote her books there in the city under the rainswept skies of my favorite city. I am also buying books whose authors include (but are not limited to) Kenneth Grahame, Josephine Tey, Sir Arthur Conan, George MacDonald, and one of my favorite people, Alan Cumming.  There are hundreds of authors of course, and thousands of books to read, but I am "hankering" as they say, to learn more from those I feel a connection with. You really don't get more connected to me than through murder and forensics, and when I learned at the age of a young teen that Sir Arthur Conan was Scottish, I flipped!! I could not have been happier. 

    To say I've read every book Conan has ever written would be false, but I have dipped into that well a great number of times. I'm too excited to finish Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Tale of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde".  Most people just say "Jekyll and Hyde" and I'd suspect that they haven't actually read it. They may have seen a video, watching a play, or maybe an old film.  This book is chock full of great vocabulary and imagery.  I recently found the origin of the book and why RLS wrote it in the first place. The book is not long. It is exhaustive really, but it's not long. You can read the book in one afternoon if you have only a few distractions. I prefer to take my time, but this book seems to grab you by the throat, pin you to the chair, and keep you there. I literally had to pull myself away from it tonight. I have things I must do!  

    To find out, to read and learn, that RLS was a sick man when he wrote the book is really very telling. He was so completely obsessed with the real-life character called Deacon Brodie, for whom he created the two opposing characters for the book. Brodie was in fact a madman, a deviant, an addict, a thief, possibly a murderer, and he was also, as the tale would hold, a gentleman, a fine and upstanding and well respected local businessman on the Royal Mile of Edinburgh. CRAZY truth and the overwhelming personal self-inflicted torture that Robert Louis Stevenson immersed himself into in order to write the book are just astonishing! Well worth the read of the book as well as studying the background!  You can't make this stuff up, folks. It happened. 

    For me, writing is my first love, but reading is my second. I'd say my side thing, but that has a bad connotation doesn't it? I mean, writing and reading are sort of like twins or besties and you can hang out with both of them at the same time without either of them becoming jealous of your time. I liken it to having two horses of different sizes, colors, disciplines, and strengths. Neither horse really gives a hoot if you pet the other for a while as long as you pay some attention to them too. No one hopes the other dies a horrible bloody and painful death - - that's me. I'm the one writing, researching, investigating, and drafting someone's horrible bloody, and painful death, and I do that through reading what others have written, and I write what I write. (If someone reads my words and is likewise inspired, the wheels on the bus keep going round and round!)

    Tonight it was Bob.  Robert Louis Stevenson.  Tomorrow it's Walt.  Sir Walter Scott; but I'm not reading his classic novels or even the lesser-known books. NOPE, I am reading a book titled "Demonology and Witchcraft"  What? It's almost Halloween, and I wanted to see if this was a novel or a documentary. I have no idea. I just saw it on Amazon and bought it. "Rob Roy" is after that. Believe it or not, I had NO IDEA that Sir Walter Scott wrote it, and no, I've not read the book. I've only seen the movies and videos. I need to read the book!! I should put another author in between, but I am waiting on those books to arrive. The Edinburgh Boys is what I'll be calling my authors soon.  Sir Walter Scott, RSL, Sir Arthur Conan, Kenneth Grahame, and I suppose I can add Philosopher David Hume to that group.  He's not my favorite by any means, but he did hail from the City Centre area and I've got a soft spot for anyone who walked the Meadows, climbed Arthur's Seat, and perhaps watched a hanging or two by the old Canongate Tolbooth.

    Another story or two and then I'll let you go. There are a pair of murderers known through Scottish folklore and history as graverobbers, though they never robbed a single grave. They murdered 17 people in Edinburgh, then sold their bodies to the attending professor of medicine at the University of Edinburgh.  Stories of Burke and Hare abound, and they too are fun to read.  Another interesting and sorrowful twist to the overwhelmingly gruesome history of that city is the many tales written and told the more than 300 would-be witches who were hung, and in my opinion, murdered, by the townspeople and the established lawmakers of the day. Such a tragic and terrible time.  The stores around the town pay homage to the ladies mainly to sell tidbits for souvenirs, but these were real lives. These were real people who were hung for the slightest of reasons.  Hanging was not the only way(s) these women were executed. I can't say I read these stories or books for fun, but for understanding. I want to learn. I want to know. I want to feel. I want to pray that I could nor would ever harm someone just because I disagreed with them.

    Reading is the key to unlocking so many doors from the past, the present, and of course, the future. It assists with connecting the dots. It creates those dots too. It brings to life the images and representations of reality and fantasy. Sometimes we can't tell the difference between the two!  Watching a movie can reiterate for me what I read, but I read to really know. I read to really comprehend. I read because there are times I can't stomach visually viewing gory grotesque images, but I can read or write about them in minute detail. I have no idea why that is. I just know that reading and seeing the words brings the story to my soul. I read because it is my breath.

Canongate Tolbooth. Photo Credit: Dreamstime.com

Scottish Tablet -- Yes, Please.

 I can't tell you on which trip it was that I first had my taste of real Scottish tablet; but I can tell you that I enjoyed my aunt Wilma's blond fudge, which is what she called her recipe! Remember, I'm an American girl with about 47% Scottish blood running through me, and if you consider that at least half of the 48% of the English blood running through me is from the SOUTHERN tip of Scotland and the bordering areas, I bet you pounds to dollars I have a lot more Scots blood in me than that silly DNA test will try to say I have!  Let's be real. The borders were an area that went back and forth between the kingdoms of England and Scotland, and my people (mostly) were revilers who stole cattle, forced people to pay rent to graze on lands they didn't own, and they married both Scottish and English women so you just really don't know how accurate these tests can be. At least I can count on the tablet!

    What is a Scottish Tablet? Well, it's like I said, a blond sort of sugary fudge treat. You make it on the stovetop, some people use the microwave to initially melt the butter, milk, and sugar, but there's no reason to do that. I choose the old-fashioned method of using the big pot and you must use a wooden spoon -- or do what I did, use a rubber spatula with a wooden handle. I think it counts. I did add love, you have to add a lot of love. If you chinch on the love you're not going to have a good result. That's guaranteed!

    So the thing about tablet (in Scotland) is that it can be gritty due to the amount of sugar being used. Americans are so fussy, aren't we? We tend to tone down the sugar a smidge and add flavor, maybe a bit more butter; what I did would be considered illegal in the Old World. I used marshmallow cream. Yes, I really did. So also, instead of using real sugar, I used monk fruit. Say what? Did she just admit to not using sugar in tablet? Wow, can it still be considered to be tablet? Yes, and in fact, it's a really good dish.  I use marshmallow cream to add vanilla flavoring and a creamy texture to offset the fact that it's made with less sweet stuff.  Oh, and don't tell anyone, but I didn't have full-fat milk today so I used 2%. Yep, just cheating on this thing all the way around.

    I'm making a batch for work tomorrow. We have a monthly birthday celebration and I usually bring a Scottish dish. I was asked to bring the same thing I made last month but I excused myself because I think people should try different types of sweets and savory dishes from time to time. Last month I made shortbread sticks. I even have a really cute thistle stamp that I put on the tops of the shortbread! It was gone before the morning break. I'm hoping they enjoy the tablet equally well. If not I'll just bring it home. I know I love it.  Tomorrow is also the annual chili cook-off, and I didn't want to make haggis chili for anyone; you just never know what could happen if a wild haggis was seen roaming the halls of the big office building. You have to butcher the haggis fresh if you're gonna do a good chili. Anything can happen.

    I took photos of the tablet while I was making it, but I'll have to add one from Pinterest here (to show you what it looks like) because mine is cooling off right now, so I can't cut it. I may even put it in the fridge to harden up a bit. I'm making a trial batch for my family first, then I'll venture into doubling the recipe so I can make enough for several people. It's a potluck type of dinner really, so I'm not going to make enough to feed everyone. I made 60 shortbread sticks and they were literally eaten almost as soon as they hit the countertop in the breakroom. One of the traders stated "Well, if you snooze you lose" when he was explaining to someone on the floor what was once sitting on top of the display plate that I brought.  Yep, gone.  Several of the traders (and I) arrive at work around 7:45 a.m. so yeah, we're gonna get to the good stuff first or as it comes into the office.

    Because Scotland is a land so rich with national pride and great dishes, I can literally bring a good solid Scottish traditional dish once a month and not have to repeat anything. This month it's tablet, next month it will be macaroni and cheese. I bet you didn't know that was Scottish!! It is.  I make mine with garlic, chopped onions, and parsley.  I may make a Shepherd's pie for December, but since it will be a Christmas-themed gathering, I will likely find something more traditional like bread; but Shepherd's pie is a must. You can't go a month without it really. I know I don't. I make mince and tatties often too, but I'm not going to bring that as it is separate, both mince and tatties, and some people would just get one or the other and that's not how it's supposed to go!!

    Anyway, today's tablet is wonderful. I can see it cooling down now. It's not as dark as a traditional tablet since I've added the marshmallow cream, but let me tell you, it's divine. Yes, yes, it is. It is smooth and sweet, and since I cut it into 1.5" x 1.5" squares it feeds 48 when you put it into a 12" x 9" pan. That's not bad. I feel like I've done my duty, to be honest. I can't be expected to feed 90+ people -- well, that's not true. I would do it if I was asked to or expected to. I don't mind cooking, and I certainly don't mind teaching people who have never tasted a bit of Scotland what it is like to be raised by really good Scottish women who knew their way around their kitchens. Who knew wooden spoons were used for more than just whipping the kids? (I'm old, it happened.) 

    Thank you, Aunt Wilma! Thank you, Granny! I'd say thanks to Mom, but she wasn't the cook in the family. She was the artist. She could paint a picture of tablet that's for sure. It would look better than anything I could cook too! What she lacked in culinary skills she more than made up with paint and brushes!  I didn't get that talent; nope. I am the cook. My BIG big sister was the geek, she knew all the I.T. stuff, and she is quite crafty too.  My Little big sister is a MASTER seamstress and she cooks. I am a baker and a cook, and I write.  My brother just went from house to house eating what we prepared. He's a mechanic, so he's quite useful as well.

    Whether you call it blond fudge, tablet, or just dessert, it's a fun and easy thing to do. You can Google the recipe easily enough. You won't find one using marshmallow cream, but you can add it. You can add cinnamon too if you want! Just sayin. It's your treat! Double-dog dare you! 

    

Photo credit: Pinterest.com 

A Strange and Welcomed Dream.

 I love it when I have dreams that not only have full stories, but have drama, sorrow, laughter, intricate detailing, and even costumes! I love it when I can wake up from a dream and wonder if I was actually dreaming, or if what was taking place inside my brain was real and I'm just coming out of some alternative universe. I'm not being really serious at this point. I know I'm here, and I know it's now. I realize a dream is a dream, and fantasy is just that; a fantasy.  Sometimes the fantastic happens when I'm sleeping and boy oh boy, it's beyond imaginable. It's a FANTABULOUSLY real feeling and I can even remember the tiny minute details of the conversations I had with people. Sometimes these conversations are being had by others; so it's not always me doing the talking. I bet you would never have guessed that one!!

    I was in another place. I knew I was, and I knew it was another time. I didn't know where I was, when it was, or how I got there, but I did know somehow, that my being there was for a larger purpose, and I would be safe. I would not be harmed. I would be fine, and everything was going to be OK. At least that's what I thought until I was facing several men on a dirt-type road in the forest and they weren't sure what to do with me. I couldn't understand them, they were speaking a foreign language. I managed to listen and make a gesture with my finger to sort of say "Say that again" and one man repeated what another man had said. When he said it again, I made the same gesture but very slowly. The second man repeated the words very slowly, and I understood two things. First, I realized he was speaking Scots Gaelic. Secondly, the only words I could make out were the words for "you" and "where".  Ah! OK, they wanted to know who I was, and where I came from. Got it!

    I told them my name and said I had no idea which direction I had come from because I was sort of lost, not knowing where I am. I also asked what year it was since their wardrobe seemed a bit outdated.  After a few minutes of them huddling around and talking, it was decided that I would be their captive and I decided to disagree. I began walking off and one of them grabbed me by the arm. Almost instantaneously the man was picked up by an invisible force and flung to the ground. This action, of course, led to them all coming to the same conclusion about me; I had to be a witch! Well, as you can imagine, that wasn't going to work out well either. I said out loud to myself "Oh yea, they actually believe I'm a witch. This means I'm stuck somewhere probably in medieval times and either in northern Scotland or out really far west on some island." I hadn't passed or seen anything with any hope of being a landmark. I had no idea.

    I thought about just walking away, but these men weren't all that keen for me to leave just yet. I was surrounded and they all began asking me questions. I wondered how they had understood me earlier, and then I realized that they had not understood a single word I said, but they had evidently believed me to be of English descent. One of them had spent some time in the southern part of the country and remembered the words "believe" and "witch".  It was decided I was either a witch or I had some sort of connection to the other worlds so I was respected, but I was not to be set free. They walked with me, surrounding me, and from time to time they spoke to me, but again, I had no idea what they were asking or what they were saying. 

    I wanted to communicate so I used what little (tiny) knowledge I have of the Scottish Gaelic language and I made hand gestures as well.  Finally, after a couple of hours or so of walking, I saw what looked to be a castle. It was in fact, a completed castle and I thought about it long and hard before asking if it was the site of Castle Stuart the response I received was a mixed bag of surprise, confusion, anger, and excitement. Pick a man, any man, and he had a different reaction to me knowing that the ruins before me were going to be restored in about 300 years and then be used as a hotel; well, what they would call an inn, but in Scottish Gaelic, the word would be "taigh-osta".  My Gaelic had a lot to be desired. I really sucked at it, placing words in the wrong order and hacking most of the pronunciations. At least the men figured out I was not from that area but knew something about the castle. When I tried to explain in detail I was basically forced to shut up. They wanted to wait until they could find someone who could possibly translate what I was saying, mainly because if I was in fact a witch, they didn't want me casting spells on them without them being aware of exactly how I was cursing them.

    When I made the sign of the cross over my face and heart they immediately stared at me. I quickly realized that they weren't Catholic; I'm not either, but they weren't happy that I might be. So, it was about that time I decided to shut up and just keep walking with them.  I did have to excuse myself to go pee in the woods and I was fairly adamant about not letting any of them follow me.  I made it quite clear that I would not stop talking if they continued to stalk me as I tried to find a few leaves that didn't appear to be poison ivy. I was seriously hoping I was successful with that quest, and I was! Funny how we can't find what we're looking for in a dream. I think I ended up with an actual roll of toilet paper and I remember laughing about that.

    Once back on the road, I noticed my shoes. I didn't know why none of the men had pointed to them and questioned me. I suppose men have really never kept up or been too involved with women's choices of attire. That made me smile. When we reached the edge of town and saw a bit of civility, a woman who was both older and quite English-looking (pointed nose, higher cheekbones, and slightly jacked-up teeth) came out of her house and questioned the men about me. She spoke to them in a broken dialect but they seemed to answer her in their own. She turned to me and apologized for the behavior of the men, and she became speaking to me in what can be described as middle English, but at least I was able to figure out what she was saying! This was good news for me. I told her the situation, not that I expected her to understand or believe me, but she did say that God works in mysterious ways.

    The woman's name was Eula and she led me to a cabin or cottage in the city's center street, today it would be called "High Street" where a man in his late 40s perhaps his early 50s was sitting at a table. He was dusting off his shoes and thinking about getting up to either make his bed or pet the dog when Eula knocked on his door. She rapped four specific times and he said to himself, "It must be Eula. I wonder what she wants."  As it turns out Eula was married to this man's brother, and her husband of many years had passed away.  As the laws and customs were at that time, this man, being a close kinsman who was not married, was expected to marry Eula to keep her protected and to provide for her. The problem is, in reality, neither Eula nor the man really fancied one another. I guess to be blunt, they didn't like each other at all, and they had both sworn off any sort of arrangement between them. Something had to happen, Eula began to pray about it.

    As the man opened his door he looked just beyond Eula to see me.  He had been with Eula and his brother for years, having lived in or near their household. He grew to learn the English language to a large degree, and he was able to carry on open conversations about their agreement not to unite; without the others knowing their plans.  "Woman, you have interrupted me. I was quite busy", he lied and protested. "Liar!" She exclaimed as she led me into the house before closing the door behind her. Eula then surprised both myself and the man by stating,  "This woman, this new woman, was found in the wood about six miles up Tarmal Rood.  She is from the new world and speaks only their English. She's to marry you old fool, and I will be free from the laws that tie our necks." Wait...what? I mean, no. I don't think so. He's...well, wait a minute, he's actually kind of cute in a tall, rugged, burly, bearded, brawny, tattooed sort of Scottish sexy Highlander sort of way. I mean c'mon, it's a dream, right? Go with it.

    What happened next was pretty funny really. I was actually able to stop myself and say, "OK, this is a dream".  Sometimes, if I see myself doing gymnastics in a dream, I know I'm dreaming. I stop myself if I can and I go ahead and do more! I actively and purposely fling myself into back handsprings and hang upside down so I can have fun and create for myself a means of entertainment.  This time, when I saw the man standing before me in his family tartan, leathered footwear, and hand-stitched shirt, I couldn't help myself, I began grinning and actually giggling because so many of us in this century often wonder what a real Scotsman wears under his kilt. Oh my gosh, did I really think that in my dream? What a loser! I was about to slap myself right there in front of God and everyone, but I said to my dream self "Stop being so immature, it's obviously sometime between the 16th and 17th centuries, and yeah, he's not gonna have any briefs on under that magic piece of material you love so much. This could be your chance to snag a Scot who won't fuss and argue with you about wearing his kilt and dirty black boots. OK, the man doesn't actually have to put his shoes back on. I'm good."

    In her best and sweetest hostess sort of way, Eula explained to me that her brother-in-law Craig Mackenzie was about 50 but no one really knew. She was a bit older than he was, and her late husband always claimed Craig was a wee bit younger, but again, no one really kept records. Their family book or their Bible was long missing, and he had decided that on the Spring Solstice he would celebrate his new year. Whether or not he was born at that time is up for grabs.  So, his name is Craig Mackenzie? Ha! I had to laugh at myself again because anyone who follows me knows I have a fictional man, a creation of my own, whom I called Naked Bearded Man for over 30 years. We've been together through thick and thin.  This man was in fact Naked Bearded Man, but I didn't exactly recognize him because he was actually wearing his clothes rather than being seen in my dreams both unclad, in the buff as it were, and oftentimes he's literally folding his kilt! Yes, this was in fact my Naked Bearded Man!  

    About a year ago I suppose, I decided to give Naked Bearded Man a real name. I wanted it to be something sensual, obviously rough and tumble, as he is quite rugged, and it must be (of course, it must be) a Scottish name. He was named Craig Allan Mackenzie, and here Eula was telling me that this man was in fact the same man I had dreamed of for so many years. Well, no wonder I wasn't upset with having been given to him so unceremoniously and without any real explanation. It was at this time that Craig pointed to my shoes and asked what type of footwear is this,  that doesn't lace or buckle.  Oh...yeah...velcro.  Laughing seemed a bit inappropriate, so I just smiled and took his hand. I looked Craig in his big grey eyes and I said, "Well, I'll show you mine if you show me yours."  He smiled. Eula left the house, and well, I don't really know where the dog went, but Craig and I had a really good time of it - - you know, discussing shoes and things.

    I would say that's when I woke up, but it wasn't. I woke up hours later smiling.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com