Murder and Me.

 My mom read crime novels. She was really more into the funny ones, and the ones with characters like the cats who solve the mysteries; but there still had to be a mystery to solve, right? She read Agatha Christie, and the romantic mistresses of literature, while I was more into the gore and guts if you will. I found myself watching Perry Mason and later Quincy; in order to find out all I could about the when, where, why, how, and who done it! I wanted to know the details. Mom was more or less swept away by the costumes, the fancy, and the gallant events spoken and written about. She liked the glitter. I liked the bloody trail.

    As time went on, I pretended quite openly, that Della Street was my real mom, and Perry Mason (though they were never married) was my real dad. Paul Drake somehow became my famous uncle and I was in heaven inside my wee little brain, as I helped my parents solve the latest murder that had taken place in my neighborhood under the watchful eyes of the corner lamppost and the shrubs and bushes in everyone's front yard (or back) where I would hide and read novels. I think I was seven when I decided I was their baby. I know I snuck the "adult" books home when Mom would take me to the library. I couldn't check them out, but she would. She knew they were a bit racy I think, but she also knew I had no idea what "those" words may mean, so I was good to read whatever whenever wherever I wanted to. Heck, I was reading! 

    I never misplaced a book. I "lost" a few that never made it back to the library and Mom had to replace them. I didn't really lose anything. I kept them. I had a big drawer crafted into the bed my dad made me, and I hid the paperbacks there. I had quite the collection by the time I was in high school and realized just how much money I had cost my mom in Library fees. I think I may have even attempted to pay her back. Not sure. I think I did. If I didn't, I made her a red-headed grandbaby, so it's all good. We're even.

    As a kid growing up one would have thought that I would have wanted to become a medical examiner or a detective due to the way I consumed all things forensic. I was into it. I mean I was INTO IT. I watched what I could, I read what I could, I went out of my way to find evidence about this or that and make the puzzle pieces fit. If someone told me a lie I scouted it out to the nth degree until I had fully proven it, and that really didn't win me too many friends, not in high school! When I graduated (a year early) I went to Hollywood and yes, I worked in the movies and on sets. I was there, in the middle of it, and no, it was NOT the same in production as it is when you watch it, let me just tell you that right now. I preferred the books and films to the 12-16 hour days of hurry-up-and-wait while someone set up shots and fifteen others told me what to do. It wasn't really all that fun.

    Later, as I got older and now, as I'm older, I have scoured the internet and every forensic show there has ever been made both in the U.S. and in the U.K. for all things murder. I say that I don't like funny ones really. I want the real details, I want to hear the disposal stories. I want to try to figure out what the hell that person was thinking when they thought they could get away with it - - C'mon! I get it, in the 1800s maybe, even in the 1900s, but when you step into the 21st Century, thinking you can murder and get away with it - you have not seen as many shows as I have! I know that. The U.K. with their CCTV is enough to scare anyone straight. You can't sneeze without being seen on one of more of the public cameras! 

    Becoming an author was a natural step for me. Writing about murder was and is the best escape for me. I don't do it as often as I think it. I am always looking for a good place to murder someone, and even more so, I'm looking for a better way to dispose of the body. Anyone can murder someone. That's just an act. Disposal is a FEAT! Putting the puzzle pieces together and dismantling them over and over again so that I know what I'll pen or keystroke into existence can be tricky too. I have a t-shirt that reads "Careful, you could end up in my next novel" and I mean that. Some people (I won't say who) have become frequent flyers off of cliffs, in my mind. I play the scene over and again, and I wonder out loud often if I'll allow his crumpled bloody body to be found, rescued, or just pissed on by a Jack Russell Terrier three days after the "accident".  Sometimes it really is an accident. Sometimes I push hard.

    My bestie and I both watch too many murder shows. She's into Dateline. I'm into British shows like "Killer in my Village".  We text extremely inappropriate things to each other regarding the idiot moves of killers and would-be murderers. I may text her at 2:16 p.m. in the middle of the day on a Tuesday and say "Don't throw the damn knife in the river" to which she would say "I know, right, bury it, but do it in the country where no one will see you."  I come back with "CCTV sees you."  She'll respond with "Damn, I know!"  We cringe sometimes when the woman goes back into an abusive relationship and thinks it will be different this time...dead.  Or when the man calls emergency services and wails like an alleycat for the recording, we're like "He did it."  I think we're a little jaded at this point, but that only makes me a better writer. I know what to write, and what not to write. Keep it real, drop the drama to a realistic dull roar.  Sometimes truth trumps fiction by spades! Sometimes spades are found stuck inside people's heads.

    Whatever it is or has been that keeps me returning to the world of the villain and his or her actions, I am happy and also a bit too content to write it out, draw it out, revamp it and redo it to the point that I think maybe I need to ask myself if I want people to really think I know what I'm talking about? Maybe that's not a good thing. I think it was 1977 when I first read about the William Desmond Taylor murder, and the fact that it has never been solved. When I went to Hollywood I met several, many people who were still alive who had been part of the 1922 murder plot and cover-up. The papers were sensational with it. It was just a mess! A glorious and disastrous mess, that still continues today. Of course, I know who did it. Isn't it obvious? LOL....you'll have to read all I've read, watch all I've watched, and make up your own mind. It wasn't the butler. I'll say that. Not this time.

    Murder? Mayhem? Yes...for entertainment, but no, not in reality. That's never the answer. Just so we're clear. 

William Desmond Taylor: Actor/Producer Murdered Feb. 1, 1922.

Photo Credit: nacion.com

Too Cold to Snow?

They say if you don't like the weather in Oklahoma you can wait a minute, it will change. That statement isn't entirely false, nor is it entirely true. I've lived here for most of my life, and yes, it's predictably unpredictable, but it may take up to a full 15 minutes to make any real changes that can be seen, felt, or assumed.  Keep that in mind if you're planning on visiting.

    Like most places around the world, Oklahoma has four distinct seasons. We have hot, cold, storm, and football seasons. We're right up there with Texas in terms of the classic challenges that Nature can spring on us; and where we're gonna complain, and usually rather loudly, we're also quite familiar and comfortable with the way we're all subjected to the elements. We'll complain far more, far louder, and far more often about a loss to Texas than we will about the sweltering heat or the unexpected drop in temperature that can leave a person stranded at the fishing hole wearing shorts and flip-flops. I mean sure, the weatherman said it was gonna happen, but no one really believes them when they say things like "Winter Vortex" over the next 16 hours. We gotta start paying more attention.  They actually have better equipment now and can pretty much pinpoint that stuff. 

    Today was no exception.  Though we were told that the winter jet stream was comin' we just kept right on shopping, dining, eating, moseying, and working like we had all the time in the world to run by the store and pick up those needed items for when you're snowed in for six days. Who am I kidding? When was the last time anyone in Oklahoma was snowed in for over three days? We have over 280 days of sunshine in the Sooner State, and most of the time if it snows one day it also shines and we have wet grass and icy streets for another two days. Dogs don't like it. We don't like it much either.  Today we didn't get our promised snow! The dang weatherman said it was "Too cold to snow" and that really just goes right through me. That makes so little sense -- until you think about it.

    Unless others, Oklahoma has the privilege of housing, hosting, and/or having the world's renowned weather know-it-allers N.O.A.A., which stands for National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association.  Ha! That makes me giggle just a little, because the nearest ocean to Norman, Oklahoma is really the Gulf Coast, and it would take half a day to drive it - - best time, 9 hours! Just crazy if you ask me, but we have more atmospheric events than most, so OK, again, if you think about it, it makes more sense.  People come from every nation on this Earth to visit N.O.A.A., and by every nation, I mean they come from literally everywhere and then they take photos of themselves in Norman, Oklahoma on the great campus of the University of Oklahoma, where N.O.A.A. is, and they post those selfies proclaiming just how awesome it is!!  (Except today, no one is really posting much, it's too cold  to breathe outside, so yeah, no posting is happening today.)

    I woke up this morning thinking how stupid I was for going into work on a blistering blowing frozen morning. Our normal temperature was six (6) degrees Fahrenheit, but the 30-mile-an-hour wind kept the windchill around -20 to -24 degrees Fahrenheit. So, yeah, why was I facing these elements to drive to work? Because I'm employed? Yeah, that's it. I'm employed!! My car had other plans, however, and he decided to say no. No. That was basically what he was saying to me as I cranked the key - - no.  I called AAA Roadside but they told me I would be way way down the list as I had a warm shelter and I wasn't a priority. I get that. I do. My neighbor was wanting to test out his engine jumping skills, so he volunteered to assist! OK...sure, let's stand around and die while we .... OK, it worked. Thanks!

    I went to work, and through most of the day, most of us who were silly enough or brave enough to fight the frost stared outside the windows from the lofty 21st floor of our highrise building, where we could see any and all traffic troubles that were caused as the flurries turned to dry crystalized sleet stuff, blowing harder and making little drifty things along the edges of the road. No snow. Still too cold to do that. I was actually pretty happy about that fact once I made it to work. I would have hated to drive home in that stuff. It's better just to look at it from the crow's nest. I don't want to actually have to engage in physical activity in it at -20 degrees! No thank you.

    My friends in Indianapolis are writing to me this evening, telling me that they have a positive for a White Christmas this year. They expect between six and eight inches of snow today, tomorrow, and even Christmas Eve. They can keep it. They have a real Autumn there, something I dearly remember with fondness, but alas, they don't have the ever-important Football Season up that way. They have that round ball, it's sort of orange. Where they have storms, they don't really know how to gauge a twister. We do. We stand around outside watching it right up until it can be smelt pretty good, then we duck into the closet and pray. Prayer has always been a really intricate part of Storm Season. I mean, yeah, we pray a lot during Football Season too, but it's not the same. We're begging for action then. During Storm Season we're praying that the action stops. God controls both.

    Winter is a funny thing here in the land of sweepin' winds. We can have a bitterly cold day followed by a balmy frozen day, followed by a heatwave that can catch you off guard at the local BBQ joint wearing flannel when a tank top would have been a better choice - - bring both.  If you don't like the weather in Oklahoma you can wait a minute, but if you don't like the BBQ....you can leave.

Photo Credit: GoFatherhood.com

Such a Bore! (Me, not You)

 I bought myself a Kindle for my birthday, which was in November. I have been downloading and reading everything I can get my hands on and it's really been so disgustingly wonderful. I have literally given up computer time, television time, and even family time so that I can read. I'm so lying; Laura stays in her room most evenings playing on her computer and we don't talk. I just thought I'd be overly dramatic for effect. 

    The truth is, I've always been a reader and I've always been a writer. Before I could actually read the words I was looking at the pictures and making up stories. My poor mom, I subjected her to listening to me. When she became annoyed with me she got me a dog. OK, that's another lie. I have always had a dog. Before I could walk I was sleeping with a dog, but I'm not lying when I tell you his real name was Rover. Rover and I would talk for hours. I would "read" to him, discuss the stories, even the details, and if I couldn't come up with a good tale he was certainly there to coax me along! He had the best ideas. I told Mom about them sometimes. She smiled at me. She did that. She still does that. I still force my dog to sit with me when I read. Some things never change. Rover gave up. He died at the age of 16 and was really happy to trade my company for that of Jesus. He's not coming back. That was in 1978.

    My Kindle holds over 4000 books. I saw today that I can buy a lot or series set of Erle Stanley Gardner books (Perry Mason) for $176 for 57 books. Yes, before you ask, I'm doing that. It's my personal Christmas present from me to me. I'll be busy for a while. Erle and I have a long long-standing relationship. It hasn't been as old as my engagement with Sir Walter Scott, Robert Louis Stevenson, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but I do love me some Perry Mason mysteries. Yes, I was that kid you saw (and may still see) who carried a book in her purse if I carried a purse. I don't really remember doing that as a kid. Scratch that. I was the kid you saw just carrying a book wherever she went. Now I carry about 600+ with me, and I can still see where I'm going. I don't have to worry about dropping them.

    Whoever invented the Kindle needs to be given an award of some sort. I'm not sure what you give a person that would be more rewarding than a book, but to be able to give them 4000 books all in one handy-dandy tiny 6.5" tablet would be good. That's awesome. I can go places and do things and if I get really bored (who am I kidding? I never get bored) I can pull out the Kindle and read. I used to carry a particular book with me when I traveled by plane. It was first written in 1724 and the reprints have been in my house since about 1975. It wasn't really a book for a 14-year-old, but there I was borrowing it and then not taking it back to the library, claiming it was lost. I then really lost it, had to buy it (besides paying to replace it) and then I think I gave it away and bought another one. Well, NOW it's on my Kindle, thank you very much, and the pirates and I can become reacquainted again! 

    The other day I cleaned out my house of any and all books that were just sitting on my shelves. Most of them were printed in smaller print, and most of them were read well over 20 years ago. I gave them all to the local GoodWill store and now have space for so many other things I don't need. If I want the books inside my Kindle I can order them. I really don't read too many books more than twice. I have some favorites of course; the "Agony of Lewis Carroll" is one, and the companion book "Jack the Ripper, Light-Hearted Friend" both by British author Richard Wallace. Damn good books. Highly recommended. They will blow your mind.

    I just finished three books, one each day over the past three days, all from author M. MacGregor They are her DI Lorna Gunn series, all about 150 pages, short and good. They are well-written and fun for an evening's read. They take about 3-4 hours to read. If I had ONE complaint it would be that she sort of relies on some of the same ideals, and she mentions Charles Rennie Mackintosh over and over again, to the point that I wanted to write to her and say "OK yeah, sure, we get it. You like his work!" I'm not going to do that. If she reads the blog I guess I just did, sorry, not sorry. LOVE the work, but yeah, once is enough.  It does show me what not to do when I write my books. There's a silver lining! I gave each book 4 out of 5 stars, and I do recommend them.

    OK, hey, it's past 10 and I turn into a pumpkin if I don't get my beauty rest. Gotta run, but just for fun, maybe I'll download a few more books for the Christmas holidays. Who knows, maybe I'll find a few more Perry Masons out there for under $2.99 each? Could happen. I mean, it did happen, so it could happen again...and again...and you get the idea.

Photo Credit:  M. MacGregor.  READ THIS and all her books.

Christmas in Oklahoma Vs. Scotland.

  Granted, I don't have nearly enough personal experience on this topic in that I have only been in Scotland during one Christmas season, and to be honest, it was after the holiday had ended. I even missed Boxing Day, which would have been a rather interesting experience, to say the least. Every time I have been to my adopted land(s) I have been fortunate enough to go during the Spring or Summer, with the exception of the one time I did find an unbelievable discount on literally everything, so I just couldn't pass it up. That was before the Pandemic. I don't know that I would have had a very exciting time during 2020 or even 2021. I will say that I do WISH I was there now, as I know most venues have opened up and they are almost back to "normal", whatever that means. Do we even know what NORMAL looks like in 2022? Which normal are we referring to? The beginning of the 21st Century perhaps? Yeah, we'll go with that.

    So, let's just dive right in and go for the jugular on a few issues. America smacks the tartan pajammies right off my Scots friends when it comes to decorating houses.  You can't go a few yards (meters) without seeing another gaudy and over-the-top light show on most of the houses in the U.S. even if the houses are situated in smaller and lower economic housing.  Inflatables much? I don't think I saw more than six inflatables throughout the entire city of Edinburgh, and just east of Musselburgh, Portobello, Craigentinny, and surrounding areas. Six. I mean, no, I didn't count them, but what I mean by that is, there were so few that if I did see them I sort of began keeping track of it in my head.  Flashback to the U.S., and my niece has six inflatables in her front yard...garden. My niece is rather typical actually in some ways. Her house is lined with lights, and her trees are covered and wrapped in lights. You can pull up to her house and tune your radio into her personal frequency...and hear Jolly O' St. Nick singing to you.  Point U.S.A. (Honorary mention to Yvonne and Helen who received a Gold Medal this year, for their Christmas lights in East Lothian!)

    Presents. I am SO out of this category. I am not the one to use to boost the commerce points for the U.S. Nope. I am the one spending less and giving more time and service. However, the average American adult spends about $560 on gift giving in the Southwest, U.S.A. where the average Scot spends roughly $312 dollars; I had to do the conversion from Pounds to U.S. Dollars. I'm not saying that more is better, or less is best. I'm just saying there is CLEARLY a difference between the two countries when it comes to gifting.  Also, Americans tend to give tiny and smaller gifts to co-workers and friends at church, the mailman, the UPS driver, and of course the Amazon driver...please, he's like family! (and no, I can't forget my bankers. I love those people.)  That's not the case in Scotland, nor really in the UK according to the sources I've been drilling through to find my information. I guess I could have listed all the credits. I didn't.

    Gathering. Again, don't use me as your Southern hospitality Queen example. I am so not that.  If I drag myself out of bed before noon I'm doing good. My daughter and I vie to see who has to cook and often we just don't. I am an anomaly!  In the U.K., and of course, I'm supposed to be comparing Scotland rather than the whole of the United Kingdom, you'll see smaller gatherings. Families do gather, but they don't often include all of the extended family members. Obviously, there will be exceptions to these statements. I am an exception!  In Scotland, among my friends who I asked personally, the average dinner is at 4:00 or so, and it is rather formal in that they dress well, perhaps in a new jumper (sweater) and nice trousers (pants) for the event.  Mom, Dad, kids, maybe an uncle or aunt, maybe the grands. In the U.S. we tend to have blowouts. I remember being one of 48-62 that would show up for Thanksgiving and/or Christmas at my Granny's and she lived in a two-bedroom bungalow (Ranch) house. The good thing about it was my aunt Wilma lived next door in a three-bedroom Ranch style (bungalow) and we went back and forth. Maybe that's why I am such a minimalist now.

    Fun and entertainment:  I decided to go here because where I'm from we do have plays, pageants, walk-around lights, and such, but in Edinburgh, they have what we would call a mini-fair. They probably don't call it that. It's really awesome and has rides, booths, food, face painting, people dressed up, and food...did I mention food? It has a Ferris wheel, the swinging carousel, and other things. It's just so freaking awesome, and you can go at night and see the lights and hear stories, and take tours. It's just great family time. It starts pretty early, say around the 2nd week of December, and goes through the first of the year I think.

    Food.  It's really a toss-up on this one. A great deal of the families I spoke with in Scotland told me that they stuff themselves silly with food and so do we.  Americans have turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, yams, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, some sort of "salad" with marshmallows and gelatin, and we always have pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and usually some sort of cake for those who don't really like the pies.  In Scotland, you'll find lentil soup to begin the dinner, roasted turkey, boiled potatoes, Brussels sprouts, mashed carrots with turnips, gravy, bread sauce, oatmeal stuffing, and sausage stuffing. Desserts will usually be mincemeat pies, shortbread, and a parfait sort of thing called a cranachan. (It's really good) There is no shortage on either side of the pond when it comes to food, that's for sure.  We need a birthday cake you know. Happy Birthday, Jesus!

    The one thing that happens in America that will rarely happen in Scotland is the pick-up football game out back or at the nearest public park.  Now, having said that, I realize that when I say "football" I'm talking about American football. Naturally, the Scots aren't going to toss around the ol' pigskin when they can kick the checkered ball instead! More and more Americans will likely transfer this traditional game over to the "soccer" (football in the UK) family sporting fiasco than the other way around; if I had to place money on it. Again, I am so not the person to ask. I'm always too stuffed to play and would prefer walking around the block 100 times to get the calories off and my steps in. 

    I mentioned Boxing Day, which is the day after Christmas. It's more of a somber and relaxed day with far less running around and virtually no stress whatsoever. I think my Christmas Day is a lot like their Boxing Day. I just don't bother doing much, and since my gifting is done, my food is nearly picked through, and all I have to do is read or talk on Facebook, I think I like that day just as much as I do Christmas Day. I don't get to celebrate it usually. We don't recognize it in the U.S. (sad face) and most of us return to work. This year, however, because Christmas falls on Sunday, I will be able to fully appreciate the famous and fabulous Boxing Day!! YEA!! I am truly looking forward to it. Sir Walter Scott and I have a date. I'm in the middle of his Waverley novels - - it's gonna be a minute. I will absolutely cherish and embrace every lasting hour of that glorious Monday. Thank you, U.K. Thank you for Boxing Day.

    I think Scotland would be my preferred location for celebrating Christmas if someone were to ask me. I mean, if someone said, "Hey Jude, where would you prefer to be on Christmas morning, in Oklahoma, or in Edinburgh?"  There wouldn't be a delay in my response. I'd take Auld Reekie!  You have to know, and if you don't know you don't know, but it's worth finding out why Edinburgh was once referred to as Auld Reekie!  I would walk the Royal Mile. I would trek the Meadows. I wouldn't be able to go into the museums, shops, or public buildings, but I bet I could find a pub or two that would let me sneak in for a cup of cocoa and a game of darts. I'm pretty good at it really, it would make my day to spend time on the cobbled streets, among the aged and towering former tenements. Just to stop, pause, and gaze at the castle, and sit by the Ross Fountain for a minute would bring so much joy to this face and to my heart. Maybe next year. I hope.

Merry Christmas to you all, and wherever you are, and with whomever, you are with, know you are the key to someone's merriment. You are their present! Be blessed.

Photo Credit: Rachelehphotography.com 

Christmas 2022. (Don't Expect a Blowout)

 I think (I know) I did myself a huge favor when my kids were really little, and I didn't spend more than just "enough" on their individual presents to present to them on Christmas morning. Like most moms, I lied to my kids about Santa, and we had a really good angle on that story for sure. My brother Mike used to hang around wherever I was living at the time, and he'd jingle the sleighbells outside the house, apartment, trailer, (caravan) or sometimes we spent Christmas Eve with my parents. There he was, Uncle Mike, outside at about 10:30 p.m. just after we had told the kids that the news crews were tracking Santa's sleigh over and/or around our roof! The kids even asked to call Santa and Mrs. Claus one year as the weather was exceptionally poor. I was really impressed by their caring.

    As they grew up, the most important message about Christmas of course, was that we celebrated the birth of Christ on December 25, no matter what day He was actually born on; I personally believe it was around the 2nd week of September.  Another strong message, and one that stuck, was that we buy for others first, then ourselves. We start the gift-giving season off by buying a gift for a kid whose name appears on the Angel Tree at the local shops.  I had three kids, and we picked out three names. It was and has been the best thing ever. My grandkids are now picking up on that tradition. I can't tell you how proud that makes me.

    Next, and this is HUGE; we don't spend much on each other because we realize that if we do then the others feel obligated to do the same. We don't exactly set limits, but we do. You know what I mean. Smaller, more meaningful gifts are the way we exchange.  Most families "buy for the kids", and we do that of course, but we do still exchange gifts for the adults in our lives, but not everyone...just us. I think it's more personal that way. We don't draw names. We just exchange sweet and meaningful, thoughtful gifts, and we sit around talking. That's so much more important. We don't even do the big dinner thing. My house is the last house or the first house that my kids show up at on their way or as they return from other houses. I have never been one to obligate or force anyone to be with me at a certain time on a certain day. If December 25 is a busy day for them, it's OK if we meet on December 14, 19, or 28, you name it. 

    The dinner thing went out the door after Daddy went to see Jesus back in 2017. I just couldn't see myself driving so far out to have dinner with folks I barely speak to or even get along with. Why do that? Sorry if that's not traditional or "proper", but it is what I call "better" and what I have come to cherish about the holiday. I don't hate it now. I can actually enjoy myself and not feel pressured or stressed. I do not stress for anyone. On Christmas morning it's a sleep competition between my daughter and me to see who can stay in bed the longest. The first one up has to start the cooking prep!  I usually give in, but not until after 10 a.m. We don't have a set time. We don't have a must-have menu. We don't demand this or that from one another. We just love on animals, eat when we want to, and when we do get around to opening presents we wait on the others who may or may not show up for days. We don't care. 

    When I go into the grocery stores this time of year and I see that they tell us what to buy it makes me sort of sad. We're literally encouraged to have (or make) the same dishes every year, and though they typically place those food items on sale, it just doesn't make sense to me that we're coaxed into a rut year after year after year with the staples of what would be considered the right things to eat! Screw that. Sorry, I don't mean to sound mean, but I'll eat what I want when I want. Sure, I love yams. I love green bean casserole. I love mashed potatoes.  I love smoked ham and turkey with dressing. I love gravy. I love pecan and pumpkin pie, and yes, I love cranberry jello "salad" with little marshmallows. I do.  I just don't want to be told when to eat these things. I'll buy the items because they're on sale. I'm not stupid. I make what we want to eat, and that's what we eat. Last year, I kid you not, it was a very traditional Christmas with the exception of eating chicken breast rather than turkey, but it was all pretty Americana if you ask me! I even had the little tartan napkins and table runner!  See, I can be reasonable. Sometimes.

    My coworkers are just a mix of really cool folks. I love them, and I laugh at (and with) them all week long.  I listen to their stress stories and I shake my head. They know me well enough now, after experiencing Thanksgiving tales, that I'm not going to go out of my way to bother. I don't bother. They bother. They all bother. One of them doesn't want to bother, she's the kid in the whole scenario. She'd rather just not, but she "has" to show up "or else".  Or else what? Can people just not be so rigid? Can people just not be so thick? Let others join you if they WANT to join you, that way you know who wants to be there. Obviously, I don't want to be anywhere but home. I wonder how many tears I've saved myself, and how many arguments, how many headaches, and how many miles on my car!  Isn't Christmas about celebrating Christ? Besides a staged prayer over dinner is there really any of that worshipping going on at these reunions? Asking for a friend because I know the answer.

    When I lived in Indianapolis from 2010-2014 I relished the fact that I didn't have to be at the family reunions. We had our own of course, as we all lived under one roof for a while; but we weren't forced to smile, pretending we care, and we didn't have to answer uncomfortable questions about our life, our finances, our choices....nope. We were just a tiny unit eating food, and talking! Love that. We could dote on babies. Which to me is the best part of the holidays anyway. Babies. So there you have it. I'm not a humbug; I promise. I am actually rather liberated and free from any past, present, or future chains to hold me to any traditional rut and/or routines that others find cringe but still conduct.  Not me! I mean yeah, I still buy myself a new pair of jammies for Christmas morning. I'm not that far gone! Please.  It's just that I think my smiles are real now. Much more real.

Merry Christmas.....and I mean that. 

    

Photo Credit: Pinterest (believe it or not)

The Beautiful People.

 I think we all know where I'm going to go with this one. I think, if you know me at all, you'll figure out right away that I believe we are all "beautiful" and that we have our own very unique gifts. These gifts are not from our fathers and mothers, that may be the case with literal or blunt beauty, but not with grace, kindness, politeness, servant attitude, or gratefulness; those gifts come from our true Father. When I say we are all beautiful people I'm not just making up something to make someone feel good about who they are.

    I recently finished a novel written in 1816 by Sir Walter Scott. The title is The Black Dwarf.  In the book (and there is actually a four-book series) the dwarf is a man who was held back due to his deformities. He was repulsed, he was hated, he was lied about, and he was mistreated. Who do you think Scott used to prove to be the hero of the book? You guessed it. The man formerly known as Sir Edward Mauley. He was yes, a disfigured and grotesque-appearing individual; many feared him because of it. His rude and unsociable attitude and mannerisms only solidified their beliefs in that he must be a devil, he must be a warlock, he must be this or that. We do that don't we. Hey, guess what, Ted Bundy was a handsome man, wasn't he? Do you see where I'm going with this? I thought so.

    Many people, both men, and women seek out the self-help sites on Instagram, Tik-Tok, and other social media platforms today whereas before they would rush to the nearest drugstore and pick up their copy of Cosmo, Muscle & Fitness, and so on. You understand. They would read the articles, see the precise and pretty poses that the "beautiful" people do, and then they'd rush home and try their best to do exactly whatever it was that these beautiful people say works for them. Can they not get it through their heads that the money they spend, the time they spend, the effort they make is only (and I do mean ONLY) supporting and forwarding the wealth of these paid celebrities or in today's age, the self-proclaimed gurus and experts who don't actually give a damn about you, they only want your clicks, likes, and Patreon donations. "Don't forget to pay every month so you can hear how YOU can be like ME!"  Was that snarky? Sorry, not sorry. 

    I am 100% and all-in for helping others. I am 100% and all-in for sharing with others your secrets to success, and your beautifying tips that may make you feel a bit more secure and confident about yourself. Yes, by all means, wear makeup if you feel it makes you look, act, and be better. There is nothing wrong with dressing up, dressing down, wearing that particular outfit, going to the gym, and making changes to your physical form to be the better you. I get that. What I can't seem to understand is when "Life Coaches" tell people that in order to "have sex at dawn" or "be told yes", are doing so in order to bring about a false sense of security or a false sense of self. Get a grip, people. If you're with someone who doesn't want to have sex at dawn, talk about what you want!  TALKING is the key, communication is EVERYTHING!!  I think the internet has sort of taken that gift from us.

    Lately, I've seen an increase in people who have a bit of lower self-esteem either due to being told they are not attractive, or because they themselves have never felt worthy. I'm seeing an increase of these friends of mine (mostly men actually) following social media sites where they are being encouraged to "be a real man" by taking control and being that fantasy book-style masculine hulk who swoops in and saves the woman from ultimate loneliness and of course they end up as lovers and create new memories for themselves. Most lives these days are a bit more complicated than they are in the books. Most novels don't create characters who are working a regular job, going to community college to get a certificate in I.T., while paying a ridiculous mortgage and beating the system now and again just to put clothes on their children's backs! Forget energy prices, food costs, and other bare necessities. Most novels are escapes....they are not real. 

    We shouldn't want to be, or even try to be something we were not made to be. We are the person, the being, the one that God Himself said "Hey, I'll make this one now." We are absolutely unique, and by being absolutely unique, we are in fact and in all ways "beautiful".  Can we improve? Sure. Can we strive for a better way of life? Absolutely, and don't think I'm saying otherwise. Life coaches are great when they actually do their job. They are infectious, callous, and cunning when they tell you what you should do knowing it will cost you too much, cause issues in your current relationships, and/or pull you from your relationship with God. Don't laugh, a lot of these people think and say (to you) that YOU are the one controlling your life. They tell you YOU are the savior of your destiny and what YOU decide will happen will in fact be reality. Wow...Satan sort of said the same thing to Eve.  Didn't work out that well for any of us.

    You are enough.  You are like a bowl full of ingredients just waiting to be mixed and baked into the most rewarding and amazing cake ever created. You have all the right stuff. You are just not there yet. Maybe stop looking online for the answers on those sites with fantabulous photography showing off muscles and mass that could only come from the use of expensive and dangerous steroids. Maybe stop thinking you need someone else to tell you how great you are. Maybe go to the One who made you and decided you were going to be you. Maybe look at what you've done in the past to make others smile. Maybe you can realize that you didn't get this far, far enough to read this blog anyway, without first having been trained to read and that in itself is a gift. YOU ARE AWESOME. Don't let someone else convince you otherwise if you don't have the right clothes, the right shoes, the right hair, and the right dimples....C'mon. How long are we actually on this planet?

    We are the BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.  We don't need to pose in fancy sexy poses to prove we're stunning. We are stunning. We don't need $$$$$ sweaters or haircuts that cost more than a car payment. We don't need it because they want us to put our money into their pockets. YOU need your money. YOU need your time. YOU need your face to be YOUR face and it is. Don't let someone else cheat you out of the life you were created to live. Improve, yes. Learn, yes. Create, yes. KNOW you are the best you, and in fact, the only you. You aren't less than anyone. You aren't more than anyone because there really is not a competition as to who is best or worst. The CROSS is blind to what you look like. When the world tells you you're a mistake just remember God doesn't make them. When the world tells you you'll never make it, remember that He has!  There's no reason not to believe that ALL THINGS are possible through Christ...not some would-be hack online with a square jaw, precise beard, bulky biceps, and perfect teeth lying to you about what you need or could have.  Ask yourself, do you want to spend eternity with that guy, or with Jesus?

    You are already there. The facts are true. YOU rock, and you are you forever. Be the best you that you can be, but please don't think you need them to shape you when you have a brain and can pretty much know both your limits and your needs. We can't all be "fill in the blank with an amazingly gorgeous person's name", because that person is that person, and that's what THEY do. You do you. Thank God!

Photo Credit: Kobo.com 

My Love and Quit Relationship with the Gym.

 I really think on my YMCA membership my name should appear in the Y's for Yo-Yo. I don't seem to make it through three months of consecutive membership without deciding to cancel and call it quits for this or that reason. The reason(s) tend to be the same, so you'd think I'd figure it out, and either stop joining (again and again, thinking they'll do something about it) or that I would just suck it up like a normal human and do what is expected of me. I can't do that. They charge too much for what I get! If I'm not getting even what I pay for, why continue?

    Laura and I joined again this past November, maybe late October, I can't remember. Every time I join it's like a blur and then when I quit I remember why I quit the last time. Not much has changed.  Though the facility is actually just across the street, and it seemingly has everything we could possibly want out of a gym, it doesn't have everything we could possibly want, and we are faced with that fact...again.  They promised an extension with a pool. It didn't happen, but we can drive over to the other gyms that have pools!! No, that's not quite the same. First World issue, I understand but it is a real one for us. It is for me because I don't really have that much extra time during the week to waste driving and parking, walking in, signing in, chatting, swimming, drying off, driving home, yada yada.

    We don't seem to find the time from when I get off work to when Laura gets off work, to then, step across the street to even do a 30-minute workout most days. We say we will, and we do for a few weeks, then one or the other can't make it, and the other doesn't go alone. I don't go alone because I often get accosted by people who want to chat. I don't chat!! I need a shirt that says "No really, I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to work out." Some people do not get the hint even when you say it boldly to them! Laura can go alone, she has her headphones on and she literally ignores people who approach her. I think I'm too nice. Mom raised me to be cordial. I think maybe I did a better job with Laura. I know I did with Reuben, he's brutal.

    We have just about everything we need at home to do a full-body workout, it's just that the weight machines are top-notch, and I love it. I keep saying to myself that I'll end up buying a couple of the types of machines we need then when we have a house with a two-car garage we'll have one side for the car and one for the gym. That may be a minute, but it is a plan. (as I wrote that I realized that Laura will likely be with me for another 33 years.) Some things are bound to change while other things are bound to stay the same. The YMCA is not going to change. The location I am closest to will never expand. I need to accept that. They may say they will get funding for something, but they are not actually going to do it. 

    Well, it is what it is. I can just suck it up, and do more weight training at home. Fewer weights more reps I suppose. I mean, yeah, I could put the money into buying more equipment but I don't think so. I'll just be more diligent about my home workouts now and drag Laura into the living room to work out with me. It's not like I have to use her to bodyguard me from anyone coming up to chat. The dogs and the cats tend to work out right beside me. Doga and Catoga! We are champions at these sports!! Let me tell you!  Bring it. Doggy-downward has an entirely different meaning in our house. When we roll out the yoga mats the animals vie for positions around them. Crazy!! (at least it's not yoga with goats)

Photo Credit: GoatsToGo.farm

Bo'ness. It May be Bo'ness.

 First, I still haven't made up my mind if I'll be moving permanently to Scotland or not. I think I will. I want to. It's just that there are so many things to consider, the least of which is not that in 2024 the UK may be "experimenting" with what they will call Climate Adjustments or lockdowns. It's more of a lock-in rather because they are considering regionally dividing areas and allowing folks to only drive within that region to spare the unnecessary climate monsters to destroy other parts of the country. This means you'll need permission to go to work if you work in another district, or of course, you could ride THEIR rail and THEIR buses, be under their control, yada-yada. This doesn't set well with me, and I really really hope Scotland will vote for independence next time they are given the chance. I would say that's just my opinion, but it isn't just mine.

    So, if I do decide to do it, and if I do make the move, I have been thrashing the ideas around in my tiny pinball brain as to where it will be that I will settle. Could it be Bo'ness in West Lothian? Could be.  Bo'ness of course is not really named Bo'ness, it's sort of a nickname or shortened name for what it was originally called, which is Borrowstounness. Really? I rather like the longer name better.  Before it was called Borrowstounness it was referred to by its Old English name "Beornweard's farmstead". Stranger still, but again, I like it. I suppose it became easier to say Bo'ness and that's what it is called today. It is an area west of Edinburgh, East of Falkirk, situated on the Firth of Forth and if you know me, you know I love saying Firth of Forth. I really love saying that. (giggles)

    Bo'ness was known for its mining, shipping, and porting, and it really is an amazingly simple and quiet area. It seems to be somewhat cut off from the hubbub that is strict city life, but it's not in the country, having several old kirks (churches) with attached cemeteries to keep me busy if I do go. I love sitting beside gravestones and talking to their hosts as if they are still alive and able to hear me. I don't expect any of them to actually respond, but I do like to think about their lives, their goals, their accomplishments, sorrows, and eventually who they became before their lives ended. I am forever seeking great graves when I find them in genuinely old kirkyards around the country, no matter where I visit. They are both interesting and informative if you pay attention. Sometimes the only things we know about a person are written on their stone.

    Bo'ness, or Borrowstounness, has a varied and exciting history, and it is the city where you'll find a few really cool museums too. The Museum of Scottish Railways is there, and a museum for famous motorcars and bikes from several movies is there. There are at least two castles that I know of, and maybe a few larger manor houses as well, so many gardens, and even a bowling club, which by the way takes place outside on a flat lawn, not indoors with lanes and loud arcades to drown out the smashing of the pins. Nope, their bowling is much more relaxed, quiet, and not as rowdy as ours.  It's far more social.  I mean, you could probably stop the game, have a spot of tea, resume the play, and continue your conversation as you pitch the ball ever so precisely toward the targets. I imagine you can, I haven't played the game, but I think I'll join a club if and when I do move. It sounds like too much restrictive fun to pass up!

    One of the apartments I'm looking at in the area is right downtown. It's literally on their high or main street, and the views are incredible. I live in Oklahoma, and the cost of living seems to be really close to what I am used to paying and dealing with now. The two-bed one-bath apartment (flat) I'm looking at will cost me $800 or L651 Sterling pounds.  If I were to buy it, it is for sale for $159,000 or L129,575 Sterling.  It's about 800 square feet, has ten-foot ceilings, new amenities, and where it doesn't have a balcony or patio I can set the dog out on, it is close enough to a park area where I can walk said dog -- there will be a dog. I will not live without one. The houses and flats where I'm looking are well within walking distance of parks, seacoasts, greenways, and the required shopping for my personal treks to buy groceries. I don't want to have to the bus if I don't have to. I prefer walking if I can.

    The nearest train station is about 2.5 miles from me, and it will need to be accessed by taking a bus or taxi probably. The train from Linlithgow to Edinburgh City Centre costs about $10 each way, and it takes roughly 24-28 minutes so that's not a problem. I think if I'm honest, I'll head into E.C.C. two or three times a week, so buying a regular monthly pass would be the best route to go most likely.  I'm OK with that because I won't actually have a car. I'm paying over $500 a month now to own my car and keep it covered with full coverage insurance. Paying $100-150 a month in transportation is a break! One I really look forward to.  I know I can't go everywhere I want to when I want to, and that's a bummer, but I can hope that Bo'ness will accommodate. Who knows, if they have a pet store and can get crickets I'll even have a couple of lizards!

    Like any other city or township in Scotland, Bo'ness has its fair share of crime, idiots, naysayers, and punks. No place in the world is completely safe from that, but I will say that the police presence seemed really well represented there, and the streets and ways were always very clean and clear of anything that would seem harmful or distasteful to a visitor; much less for someone interested in moving there and making it a permanent household.  I like the area a great deal. I know I go on about Sterling and Fife, I do. I love them so much, and it's hard to pick just one place when you do love them all, but Bo'ness could be sort of a middle ground to Stirling and Edinburgh. It's a bit of a distance to Fife in one way, but if you go just a bit west and up the side of the Forth you end up on the west side of Dumferline and that's a plus! There's a point in the Forth that you can jump over it, every good thing must come to an end, and the Firth of Forth does that as you go further west. I should swim the shortest distance and then brag that I crossed it. (giggles)

    Boating, sailing, fishing, castles, bowling, walking, gardens, shooting (ranges), parades, music festivals, bird-watching groups, and museums are enough to keep me busy. I think it's a good and real possibility. If you look up the area on the SIMD (Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation 2020) you'll see that most of Bo'ness has a higher-than-average ranking and rating than most other places I fell in love with. The only real negative point, if you can call it that, is the geographic location and how far it may be from public transport. I mean, I could, if I had to, get a car, but I think I could manage without one. There are several taxis in the area, buses, and there's always the remote chance I may ride a bike. Could happen. Probably won't happen, but it could happen.

    If you have very little do to someday and want to see pretty pictures of a quaint and adorable city/township in Scotland's lowlands, you can Google the city of Bo'ness and say "oohhhh" and "awwww" several times. I like it. You may too.

The Firth of Fourth (west end)

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

Downtown Bo'ness
Photo Credit: Pinterest

    

Blackness Castle

    Photo Credit: Pinterest

Muscles and Madness!

 OK, let's just say it and get it over with. I don't like looking at those skinny guys. I don't like pretty guys either. I don't hate them, no, I just think if I'm going to end up with someone he should be bigger than me. That's a bit selfish, and maybe I should repent for it. I'm human.  I'm sort of a fan of the bigger, brawny type that has both confidence in himself and in his walk with Christ. Oh, wait, did she go there? What? I thought it was all about the body, the physique! I thought a woman wanted a REAL man!! C'mon guys, if you're into pumping iron to the point that your brain falls out of your head when the real important conversations come up, then yeah, no.  Stay at the gym, I'll find something else to keep me occupied. I'd rather read than be bored having to listen to gym talk, or maybe you want to explain to me again how great you look in that blue suit. Bye! (I really don't mind being by myself, I like the company.)

    Men are funny, aren't they? Women are too, we just usually don't have to be all muscled up to make a point. We know that curves are good, and brains are better. Men don't always agree with me; maybe that's why I'm still single. Could be that, or it could be that I don't put up with crap. I don't allow lies. I don't put on airs about myself and I don't want him to either. If you have a body that simply won't cooperate, that's how God made you. Try being happy in it rather than pushing yourself to someone else's limits. Be who you are! You're the only one you'll ever be, and no level of masculinity is going to change that. You don't need to pump up your arms past your personal comfort zone, and you don't need to listen to internet "sensations" who have bots following them making them look important enough to fill your head full of junk. You already know what you need; at least at your age you should! Did that guru tell you to be you? OK then, dump him.  I'm not saying that you shouldn't try to be fit. Yes, be fit. Be healthy, but be reasonable. Genetics are real.

    It's probably just me, but I find guys so much more attractive if they have ideas that they came up with on their own, or maybe they found an interest and they set out to flesh it out, and find out more about it. I am not the type to ask a guy to hang out with me 24/7 so he doesn't have time for his friends, his family, his hobbies, or his work. C'mon, again with the c'mon, look at me...just be you. Do you. If she's the one she'll be the one. If she's not the one and you're hoping to get one, then move on. Neither of you needs the hassle. It's OK to have a million friends. It's NOT OK to share yourself with millions to find the one. That would probably put the one off to the point of no return. Be careful with what you give away. You can't get it back.

    There's a site on Instagram about giving men their daily dosage of masculinity. Yeah, OK, that sounds both disgusting and unnecessary. It's the same with women, and it makes me sick. I'm not going to care about or think about what Kim is doing in order to feel more like a woman. My butt doesn't need to look like hers. It's mine! My lips don't need to puff to be pretty. I'm not putting mascara on for anyone, not for me, not for you, not for anyone. If what I'm doing can't be done without dolling up and being something I'm not, it's not getting done by me! So yeah, that's me. Maybe you need that boost. I don't know. I think you're pretty good the way you are; but yeah, you know, tone, stay up with the exercise, the diet, keep the sleep hours going, drink your water, eat your veggies. We don't know when the day will come when someone else needs to feed us, do we? What we do know is that we are enough! We always were.

    Muscles are great. Get them if you want them. Work out, get fit, and be the toned-up good-looking creature you were destined to be. I hope you do it with yourself in mind and not with someone else. Getting all gussied up for someone now and again is sweet, but when they start to expect it or worse, demand it, yeah, it's time to cut bait. Be true to yourself; you can't be great for someone else if you don't first do it for yourself. It's cliche, but it's true. If you think you can achieve THAT toned and sculptured body without using additives that will harm you you've been lied to, and it may be YOU that's doing the lying. Be smart. Being a man is not being a marble statue. Being a man is not being tough and acting like everyone should part the sea so you can walk through on dry land. Being a man is being humble. No really, prove me wrong.

    The best man that ever, and I mean EVER walked on the Earth, also walked on water, and get this, He did it because He could. Talk about power! Nowhere in the Word does it say that Jesus hit the gym every day, that He drank a bunch of protein shakes, took the right steroids, and gave everyone He came across the man-nod, as he pulled at the sleeves of his leather coat, giving the ladies a glance and a smirk. That's not cool. Cool is washing the feet of a beggar who had no shoes. Cool is finding time to talk to a lady drawing water from a city well that she had to go to at night to avoid the gossip and the staring eyes. Cool is looking your best friend in the eye and surrendering your mother to his care while you are nailed to a wooden beam after being slashed over 100 times with a barbed whip. Was it masculine when Jesus fell under the weight of the cross?  Choose you this day who you will serve....the body of a man, or the Savior of the soul? That's cool. Too cool for words.

    When all is said and done, this world is going away. These shells we crave to change will disappear in an instant! We'll be raptured or we'll be dead. There are times when we will be able to look back and point to how pretty we were and how great we felt, sure, but we should spend what little time we have left making those choices when the truth of the matter is, the flowers fade, the grass withers, the rain falls on both the good and the evil. Does it really matter what some woman thinks about you? Does it really matter what some guy thinks about you? No. No, not really - - the real test of your worthiness is not found in the sweaty gyms; but in the prayer closets. Don't let the liars keep your attention. You know more than they do.  No one is saying you should be alone, and no one is saying you should have to stay single but if you go off and find another partner who tears away who you are to satisfy what they need - - you're better off alone. It's hard, yeah, but wait on God to find the ONE. He knows what you want, and He also knows what you need. Besides, if you're like me, and most of you are, you pretty much screwed the pooch every time you tried to pick the ONE for yourself. Leave that to the Expert.

You're good. You were then too; you just didn't know it. You are good now. I hope you find this to be true. 

Photo Credit: hediedformygrins.blogspot.com

What Does That Even Mean?

 You can't please everyone. I don't know why we even try. We think maybe, that we'll be able to make people happier, make them smile a little, then when you present your opinion on a matter you find out who they really are. This is a good thing really, it gives you an opportunity to decide who you need to keep in your life, and who you need to let go.  Negativity is never something you should embrace. Cut it out! It may hurt for a minute, but let it go. You'll thank yourself later. I know I did.

    The other day I was cruising through Facebook and found another challenge that people post so others will learn more about the author's personality, their likes or dislikes, and maybe even something about their past that may be relatable. This was a post written and submitted by an author whose books are not necessarily to my liking. I think it's fair to say we all have our own preferences and that too is fine. We need to have that. We don't need to all read the same things, nor to write the same way. It's a good thing.

    The challenge asked the readers to find a photo or two of a fashion, or some sort of clothing article(s) that would adequately describe who they were. The challenge went on to say it shouldn't necessarily be something you would wear in public, but something that if people saw it, and they knew you, they could say "that reminds me of so-and-so, he/she embodies that!"  It sounds harder than it was. I immediately knew where to go to find something that reminded me of who I am. It took me all of three minutes to locate a few photos online. I copied them, and as I posted them I gave the photographer credit. I will say that more than 400 posts were posted and there were about six of us who gave credit!! C'mon people! If you didn't take the shot, don't claim you did by not revealing the photographer! That's another matter entirely.

    So, I posted my photo and several people "liked" it straight away.  I was, however, bowled over when I saw the comment of one individual who said "aren't you older? Why are you claiming that's who you are. Shouldn't you show something more mature?"  Do the words "F*ck you" come to mind? They did for me. I wasn't even nice about it.  I fired back something to the tune of "I noticed you shared a boy in a black hoodie. How dull. I hope you find yourself soon."  Maybe I shouldn't have been so abrupt, but that too is a part of who I am. I defend myself with words and had the man been standing in front of me and said that to me I may have defended myself with my fist...with one finger standing straight up in the air. I wouldn't have hit him. Violence isn't a good thing...usually. 

    What did I focus on then? The other comments.  I let the anger and upset feelings be acknowledged so I could dismiss them properly.  The people who think you should "act your age" or "be age appropriate" with style are people who have neither style nor any concept of what was taking place in the 60s and 70s I suppose. We were living freely, lively, colorfully, and artsy, and for the most part, there wasn't any real danger or gruesome crime! We were happy people with great music and cool cars. Yeah, I posted the photo that I have posted here so you can see exactly who I am, and what you'll be dealing with if you see me. I would wear that outfit, thank you very much! I'll wear whatever the hell I please, and you can bet your last hard-earned dollar (or Sterling Pound) that I'll do it with flare to boot!

    Speaking of boots, I've been told I have too many. What does that mean? Is there some legal limit to how many pairs of shoes or boots a person can own? I counted. It's 17 pairs of boots and 22 pairs of shoes including trainers or sneakers. I'm a girl, OK? Sue me! I counted my cowboy boots, I counted my mucking boots, my riding boots, and of course my combatish boots...the ones I'll end up using to kick someone in the ass if they need it. Let me show you what acting my age will get you. We kicked people in the day! We also like to remind folks that we're still around after being subjected to playing in creeks, eating tadpoles, swinging into lakes, fishing with our hands, drinking from the hose, and riding in cars without seatbelts while dad smoked his cigarettes! We didn't have AC in our cars. We didn't have grass under our playground equipment; nope. We fell onto the pavement and skinned ourselves pretty good! Did we cry? I don't think so. We couldn't let the boys see us cry!

    Tell me again how frail you think my generation is and you'll catch the end of it for sure. That is unless I'm too busy laughing about what you think is cool and what really is. Punks.  You can't see me giggling, but I'm giggling. Take the cell phones, tablets, and gadgets away from people less lucky to be born during a time when we had to communicate, and you'll see who survives. Give it time folks, every generation is made fun of by the next, and with each new group comes more addicts, more depression, anxiety, more suicides, more crime, and more out-of-control maniac mental behavior.  I think we knew better because we still prayed openly, and we extended a hand to someone who really needed it.

    What does it mean to be age appropriate when describing yourself? Well, I guess it means you have to be honest, open, inflective, and careful to be true to who you are, not allowing the Killjoys out there to stain your experiences. Be YOU. That's the only thing you can be, and damn, if you're a boy in a black hoodie without a face, without a direction, I don't want to read your book buddy. Just sayin'.  Why be a beetle when you can be a butterfly? DREAM PEOPLE!! 

Photo Credit: Etsy