Murder is Real.

     I'm an author who writes about various topics, which always include romance, mystery, murder, crime, cover-ups, and more. I know where the lines are, and though I use a broad stroke with a fictional flair to it, I know the difference between actual violence and using words to describe a scene or scenario in one of my novels. I am forever grateful for the Second Amendment and the protective measures we have in our country to assist in deterring violent crimes; I believe in the right to self-defense.

    Why am I writing about this? Why am I suddenly sounding all serious and even a little macabre at the moment? Well, there's an answer. I'll tell you what I found out today, and you'll have to agree that I should at least address it, because I am now aware of it, and it did actually happen in real life to someone I know - two people, actually.  One of the people was someone I talked to on a weekly basis, though we never met. The other was my student in 2005, and not just my student, he was my favorite student. I had to call him that when we met periodically, for years. He would call me "Dr. Stringfellow," and I would respond with "Yes, (insert name), my all-time favorite student". That's just how it was.

    When my friend Randall Goya died in 2016 at the hand of a homeless man he had given refuge to, I was stunned. I was shocked beyond words when I found out who it was that killed someone who had only been good. Randall was my dog's webmaster and had been for over a decade. He called me one day out of the blue, asking if he could create and run Faith the Dog's website. He designed it, modified it, ran it, and maintained it. I told him he could monetize it if he felt he needed to, but he never did. He kept it simple and gave Faith all the love he could through his digital wisdom and extreme creativity.  He will be missed for many more years to come.

    Today, completely by accident, I found out that my favorite student, someone I hadn't heard from in a few years, had been murdered about a week or so after he last spoke to me. You don't think at the time, something like that happens, that you're never going to speak to them again. I just assumed he had gotten on with his work, his life, his friends, and that he had just simply fallen out of touch. That's not the case; it was murder. He was taken from us. He was murdered by a brutal, vicious, hateful man who had been let out of prison for virtually the same crime! The system failed again.  You don't have to guess what side of the aisle I lean to when it comes to keeping violent people locked up for life.

    I watched a show online about a gay man being murdered for no reason other than the fact that he was gay - how stupid is that? Well, it got me thinking about my student because he had a few "bad dates" and he had told me about them when we last spoke. Again, I assumed he was just busy with his life, but it turns out that one of the people he met on a dating app did, in fact, murder him, and even tried to cover up the evidence by setting my student's apartment on fire with his body in it. Not only would he have succeeded in destroying the apartment rented by my friend, but there were others living in units above and beside the one he set ablaze!

    I was truly hurt when I did a simple Google search to find my friend and realized he hadn't called or texted because he had been murdered. I read all I could about it, and found that the police had caught his killer pretty quickly after the event. That made me feel good - and the fact that his trial was fast and decisive also made me happy. The man literally said he killed my friend, my all-time favorite student, because "I do what I want to do", and then said "He asked too many questions", as if when they met on the dating app, all my friend was supposed to do was have fun and shut up; no questions! 

    Murder is a dirty thing; a terrible, horrible thing that ruins lives and forever changes nearly everyone touched by the callous act. I write about it, but I never really go too deeply into the effects and the affects it will have on the people who loved or knew the victim of the act. I think I'll do that in an upcoming book, and in that book, I'll add the two stories of my friends to make a point about how even outsiders can mourn for people who aren't too close, but close enough to know, love, and appreciate.  We just never know, do we? We just have no idea what can happen in a split second. 

    At first, I was upset with myself for not checking in on my student more often, but he was a grown man by then. He wasn't the 14-year-old kid I knew, who, yes, asked a lot of questions, but loved to smile, dance, surprise, and entertain me and the entire class. When he was given a good grade, he had to take a bow, and we loved it. Drama was in his blood, but sadly, the school didn't have a troupe! He would have been the star if it did. After sharing the news of his passing with a few people I know, I asked them if they had also not heard from someone in a while, and if maybe they wanted to check in on those who hadn't written or called.  Maybe it's something we need to do, but when do we know when it's time to do that if we're not really close? 

    Please know that when an author or actor is involved in sharing a story about murder, crime, or violence, that it is make-believe. It's not real. But when true crime happens, or real people are hurt, it's time to listen, time to open one's heart, and be a friend when they really need one.  The 3rd week of April used to be the week reserved to reflect on and remember the victims of violence in our country; however, September 25th is the day of remembrance for those who were murdered.  I try to remember to pray for and think about those who have been affected - and now I have more names to add to my prayers, not for him, but for those he loved and left.

    (I don't want to say my student's name. He was a rather private man.) 

Photo Credit:  Pinterest.com 

Starting to Take Real Shape.

     The whole move is starting to take real shape. I had to wait to be paid before I began buying what I needed, or paying those who were doing what they would need to do in order to make the move happen. You just don't realize how many steps and moves it takes. The thing has a lot of moving parts. Every last one of them has its own parts, starting times, and limits. I've been in anticipation mode for a while now, and it's starting to ease up just enough to feel good about the event! I'm moving!

    Laura and I have lived in the apartment complex we currently reside in since 2016 (early). Before that, we were in a house that got sold out from under us. Before that, we were in Indiana, and I can't tell you how many times we moved because someone didn't have the right to sell us something, or they overbooked, and we were the last ones to get the memo! We have had it pretty hard when it comes to living arrangements. We'll just say that. 

    The house we lived in from late 2014 to early 2016 was a little two-bedroom, one-bathroom, but it was cute, and we could afford it. That is, until houses in that area were being bought by a really greedy landlord who wanted to own literally every house on the block so he could run it. We were outbid, and even if we hadn't been, he's the type to have burned our house down to get us out. We could see the writing on the wall and moved to the apartments. We stayed in the same upstairs unit for about nine years before moving to the three-bedroom house we are in now, which is owned by the brother of the man who owns the complex. We're still considered a part of that complex.

    Well, as God would have it, since I don't believe in luck, we are now able to live in our own place! We thought we had it sewn up in Indy, but it didn't happen. It is happening now, and from the hoops we've jumped through recently, we've learned that no matter where you are, you will face issues and challenges when buying a home. It's just that way. I had to pay for the main inspection and a pest inspection. We had to negotiate with what was found in those two inspections. The sellers agreed to fix everything - so there you go! One major step forward.

    Yesterday, I bought the fridge; it will be delivered the day we move in. Today, I paid for the fence materials, and I'll pay the man the other half when he sets it up. It's working out!  We bought the bug bombs and cleared out the cabinets at our old place of things we don't need. I think we've taken 15 boxes to Goodwill, and that's not an exaggeration. I don't want to take anything over to the new place if we haven't seen or used it the entire time we've lived in this house. If someone else can use it, let them. I cleaned out the pantry as well - we could have used the food, but I'd rather not take it if I don't need to.

    We've got just about everything in a box that can go into one. When the day comes to load the truck, we'll do that, and if we have more to box afterwards, we'll find a way to make it happen. We have one day to move our smaller items, and then another day for the larger ones; one trip should suffice for each.  I think I could go into moving planning like some people go into wedding planning - but I wouldn't be any good at it, because it would have to be my way or no way -- I'm rather rude and nasty in that respect.

    From the moment you decide to buy a house to the moment you kick your feet up after the move, there are a million things that do happen, could happen, might happen, definitely going to happen, and so forth -- and the cost is unexpected from time to time. We're moving in and paying escrow, inspection, last month's rent, and the cost of the move. We have a fence to install, appliances to purchase, and a thousand pages of contract to sign and amend - over and over again. It's been a mess, but a good one. The sellers were unaware that they owned 14 acres. They thought it was 7, and that definitely caused an issue.

    We have 12 days to go — just 12 more days — and we can start loading the first truck with 85% of all we own. We'll drop it off, bomb the place, unload, put things away, rest, and do the big stuff 2 days later. After that, we breathe a little. We'll clean the old house to a certain extent, but with the hefty deposit I left, I'm not planning to make too much of it. They can clean it. I won't feel bad.  I was never going to see the deposit anyway; I may as well get my money out of it.

    A new chapter, a new beginning, and one that we get to write instead of having to obey all the rules that someone else wrote. Yes, owning your own home can be expensive. It is. I get that, but it can be so rewarding too.  We can paint if we want to, pull down the wallpaper, replace carpet, flooring, cabinets, and/or whatever we think needs to be replaced, repaired, or redone. It's going to take a while to do it, but it will be so pretty someday.

Photo Credit: Boston Magazine

Life is So Wonderful.

    Life is so good. Oh my goodness, life is wonderful. I am so very happy. It's just been too long, and I've gone through too much for me not to fully and completely embrace the loveliness of life and all that God has given to me.  You know how people say you can always find the silver lining in a dark cloud? I think you can always find joy in something, no matter how challenging or difficult it may be. Joy isn't happiness; it's different. You have to choose it. When you do choose it, it stays with you; it strengthens your resolve.

    It's the little things that make the difference. I'll run through a few of those things for you now, so you'll see what I mean. I work from home, so I don't leave the house to go to work. That means I don't need to wear fancy clothes. I literally gave all of my business clothes to Goodwill, along with about twelve pairs of dress shoes, tall knee boots, and purses. I no longer carry a purse. I literally don't need one. I don't wear makeup or feel the need to keep a million things on my side. I have a little wallet thing that holds my cash, license, medical card, and credit card. I may end up putting a tiny nail file in the thing. I do need those from time to time. I do need pockets to store the wallet.

    I wear pajamas to work; no one sees me, so I can. If we do have to have Teams meetings, I can throw on a t-shirt or change my top quickly. Again, no makeup, they get me the way I am. It is what it is, and I'm not apologizing for it. I do smile, but I don't apologize. (I will pluck my eyebrows and the little annoying hairs that tend to pop up around my mouth) I think I have three pairs of shoes now, and one of those is a pair of muck boots. (Wait, I do have riding boots, so maybe I have 4 pairs of shoes)

    When I went to the store today, I walked the aisles, thinking about all the things the store carries that I don't need. There's a lot of it. There was a time, and not so long ago, that I would spend more than I earned because I thought I needed this or that. It's surprising how much we spend on ourselves so we can either keep up with, or impress others at work or in our neighborhoods. It's a vicious cycle. Working from home, away from others, and without the need to dress for others, I've saved money and discovered that I don't require jewelry, new expensive clothes, the latest fashions, or shoes. I've also realized that I don't need all the accessories and trinkets that I once thought were necessary.

    In the kitchen, I don't need all the appliances I thought I had to have and use twice a year. I don't need more than a few throw blankets either. Instead of buying a bunch of decorative pillows, I can buy decorative pillow covers and store them so much easier than I can the big, fat, fluffy pillows that I used to buy for every season. I don't do that anymore. I think I'm learning!! It's only taken 64 years to do it, but it's working. It's sinking in finally. I bought a new pair of pajamas today and told myself they were necessary. I will wear them often.  (They have pockets too!)

    I love walking the aisles and seeing the colors. I love walking the aisles of the stores and seeing what is there, but I really don't need much of it anymore. I write, I read, I love on and spoil the dogs, and soon I'll be in the barn a lot -- I will need Tractor Supply more than I do any other store. With all the distractions in the world, it's good to have an interest in looking, but I don't need to spend my money on much these days. I do appreciate all the socks I get for Christmas! Since I don't wear shoes unless I'm outside, the socks are a daily necessity.

    I drove to El Reno today and filled up my tank for $24.90. Gas was cheaper there than in Oklahoma City. I was the only one at the station, too. I walked through Walmart at 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday and maybe saw 50 people in the entire massive store. I ate at a sit-down restaurant, and there were 2 others there. I pulled into Dollar General to see if they carried something specific, and they did. The place was sooooo clean, and there were no boxes on the ground or out of place. I'm telling you, this little city is the best.

    I've decided that soon after the first of the year, when I've settled into my new home, I'll volunteer to work in the concession stand during the early afternoon baseball games or the basketball games, so the parents can go and watch their kids play. I'll volunteer for food drives and do what I can to integrate into the community as soon as possible. I think it's a great place to start and a good way to meet people. 

    Last week, I took 15 books I had written to give away at a local coffee shop. Today, I went inside the shop and found that only one book had been taken. I picked up a stack and walked around the store, passing out the books, offering to sign them if they wanted me to. I only had to swear to one person that I really had written the book.  A few laughed, but they all took the books!

    I like the wholesomeness and the honesty of the new town I'm moving to. It was started, of course, before statehood.  Fort Reno was established in Indian Territory in 1874, but the Cheyenne and Arapaho were there long before that. The area is vibrant, historic, and full of charm. It's seen danger, upheaval, and its fair share of crime, but it's a good, sturdy, strong, and compassionate town with deep roots. I love it. I have always loved it. As a kid, I wanted to live there, and now I will.

    When I say God is great -- I mean it. He is so good.

Ft. Reno. Photo Credit: Wikipedia.com

Simple is Good

    I am finally at a point in my life (FINALLY!!!) that I can relax a bit and know everything will work out for the best. I may not have the biggest house, the fanciest car, clothes, or shoes, but I have all I need. I have a lot of what I want too, and that's saying something. People often tend to live outside (way outside) their financial limits, but I won't do that. It happened to me; it wasn't something I meant to have happen when it did. There were too many times in my life when I had to borrow on credit just to survive. It was not fun. It was not good. It is over, and I thank God EVERY day for the peace I now have.

    I was sitting on my couch with my dogs today, just sort of closing my eyes and thinking about life. It wasn't too early; today is Saturday. I had my hot cup of mushroom coffee in my left hand, and I was petting a dog with the other. One or two more dogs were hiding under the blanket, cuddled up next to me, and still a fourth was at my feet, lying on the ottoman. Life is good.

    Within seconds, out of nowhere, sirens began blaring, and the roar of an ambulance raced down the street right outside my living room window. We live that close to a hospital. We live close to two, actually, so the sound of ambulances is more or less a constant, but they can still take me by surprise. I hate it. I said a prayer for the drivers, those on the streets, and of course, for the souls who needed their help. As I did this, I realized I was thinking to myself that it would be so much nicer not to have to hear those sirens on a daily, often multiple times a day occurrence. It gets under your skin.

    I went to Sam's Club today, too, and realized they had side-by-side stainless steel refrigerators with various gadgets and gizmos all over them. I don't need it. I simply do not need all the fuss. I went to a thrift store this morning and bought a used fridge that does the job for literally 1/5 the price. I'm not joking. The fridge I bought was $250 ($275 delivered), and the one at Sam's was $1349 (free delivery). How many times does $250 go into $1349?  (The answer is 5.39, but it's still close to being 1/5.) The guy I bought the fridge from is also really cool. He and his wife run the local downtown thrift store. I'm going back for nightstands, end tables, curtain rods, and other practical needs. (John Grisham books for $2.99) 

    I can shop at Walmart again after I move because it won't be crowded or full of would-be hooligans, thieves, and thugs. Moving to a small rural town does have its perks. I'm not saying that my new town has no criminals, but we're not crawling with them, and the crimes are different as well. Almost all of us in the rural township will own guns and be able to handle some of the situations. It's harder in the city - more complicated. Besides, in my new town I can have more dogs! They do have a limit, but it's rarely enforced unless it becomes extremely detrimental to the dogs or the neighbors. 

    Give me simple any day.  I walked over a mile today inside Walmart in the new town, thinking I must have moved to the sticks. There are actually 18,000 people in the city, but they don't all shop at the same time. I went aisle after aisle without spotting another person. I loved it. I loved it a lot. I went to a restaurant and ate lunch -- there were 2 others in the place. I didn't have to wait for service. I was waited on, treated like a queen, and again -- LOVED IT.

    I'll pull into my gravel drive, drive 100 yards to my house, park my car, pet the horses, and kiss the dogs before going into a place that has a great kid, plenty of space, good food, and almost complete silence. I say it will be silent, I can almost bet you'll still be able to hear the cicadas every evening. There's no getting around that, not in Oklahoma. Give me the simple life anytime. I will take it. I'll take the lower prices, less stress, greater community spirit, and the way folks work together to build each other up.

    Just last week, after the SNAP program had been shut down and more than 40% of my new town was affected, you saw the biggest turnout of folks gathering around at the churches and the parks with open truck beds, flatbed trailers, and trunks inviting people to take what they needed. Stores donated, people donated, and it was just so beautiful. It wasn't perfectly organized, but it came together. It was loose-knit, but tightly bound around the hearts of everyone who was there. Give me the simple, more beautiful life - anytime...every time.

13 days!!

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com (not my food!) 

I Sold A Book! (Actually, I Sold a Few)

     I receive an email every 90 days or so, informing me of how many, if any, books I've sold. The little report arrives, accompanied by the invoice for what they owe me for the sale. Sometimes, and I'm not kidding, I owe them. It's pretty sad when you realize that, from time to time, you owe the publisher and/or printer a little bit for having printed either one or only two books. It's an index thing, I believe, I could be wrong. It seems that when paper products are scarce and they have to print on demand for one book to be sent to one customer, they charge me as much as they pay themselves. Make no mistake, the publisher and/or printer will make more than I ever will on my books. That's the way it is.

    Well, today, again, minding my own business, I received an email stating that several of my books had been sold, and it wasn't the same as the other invoices. This one was either a special report or perhaps it was unusual because they were all purchased by one person, and the company felt that I needed to know. Here's how that went, because it made my day.  I had a really interesting day at the dentist's office, having half my mouth deep scaled. Coming home to read that I had sold a dozen books to one person somewhere in the United States made me smile.

    As an author, I don't write to sell my books. I love it when they do sell, of course, but I don't write to please anyone. I don't write because there is a deadline. I don't write because an agent or publisher expects me to. I write what I write, when I choose to write, about what I choose to write, and it literally makes me smile to think that anyone would be interested in buying one of my books. So, when someone out there bought 12 of my books - 12 different titles, that was something. I had to laugh.

    Of course, the report doesn't reveal the person's identity. I'll never know who they are unless they write to me and let me know. I sat around this evening thinking about that person, and I even said a little prayer for them. I asked God to bless their reading time, to help them understand me, appreciate me, and be kind even if they don't like what they read. I almost called my mom to see if she had been the benefactor, but I knew she didn't need to. I always give her free copies. Why would she buy them? Whoever it was bought all 12 books in print, not in digital format. They paid $$$.

    My newest book, "Amicus Curiae," was not among those that were purchased. That made me think that maybe the person has read that one and has decided to read the others. Whoever it is, they will read both the murder books and the romance novels. They even bought "Dion", which is both romantic and sort of creepy, too. I'm thrilled that they bought as many as they did, and I genuinely hope they like what they read. Perhaps they'll tell two friends, and they'll tell two friends, and so on. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

    My next book, "Cumberland", won't be written until after the first of the year. We're moving, and with the holidays and all the family-related activities, writing had to take a backseat for now. It's okay, I don't mind taking a break from my brain for a few weeks. I'll kick back into gear soon enough - and then I'll beat the clock with not only writing five novels in 2026, but I may put out another blog book after swearing Number 4 was the last. No, it can't be; I'm still talking!!  

Photo Credit: Me

Nose Gas, Please!

     Today was such a day! I mean to tell ya, I was sitting at my desk minding my own business, because that's what I do, you know; I mind my own business. I was sitting there, around 9:30 a.m., just thinking about what I was supposed to do that day, when a reminder text came in from my dentist. They do that up there; they remind you constantly that you made an appointment. They really want you to keep those appointments. 

    "Oh yeah," I said to myself, "I'm getting my teeth cleaned." I wanted not only to get my teeth cleaned, but also to discuss a certain spot in my upper gumline that felt as if air was getting into the nerve of tooth #9. That's right, I know how teeth are numbered in my head! I'm clever like that. I think I learned it in the 3rd grade or something, and I never dropped that odd and strange bit of information from my memory. It's in there. I won't ever not know how many teeth I had at one time. (The number has changed over the years.)

    So, tooth #9, the front tooth on the left upper side, felt as if air was getting to it, and although it wasn't causing pain, it was noticeable and nagging. I decided to talk to Dr. Bauman about it after my hygienist, Cathy, had her fun with my teeth. Little did I know that Cathy knows just about as much as Dr. Bauman, and when he's busy with dental work, she essentially takes over and handles the tasks without the pay raise. She's every bit as intelligent and knowledgeable, so I let her tell me the gory details of what was happening. When Dr. Bauman came in and said the same thing she had said, I fist-bumped her and told her she needed to ask for a raise.

    Well, turns out it wasn't a cavity, and it wasn't what I thought. It wasn't even tooth #9 giving me fits. It was the gumline between #9 and #10, as it was beginning to recede due to tartar buildup. Cathy took an X-ray and showed me. It was nasty - just nasty!  You may not realize how important it is to have all your gums and hidden areas cleaned at least every two years. It had been more than that. I'm too embarrassed to actually say how many years it had been.

    OK, now that I knew what it was, I decided to schedule an appointment. Lucky for me, Cathy tells me, their other hygienist, Gabby, had an opening at 3:00 today! Same day! Wow...OK, maybe that's good, I thought to myself. I'm already off work, I may as well make it a big, fat, fun-loving, scraping, pulling, sawing, pushing, drilling sort of day! Why the heck not? Let's do it. I scheduled the opening, and I went home. While I was home, I got another text reminding me that I had just made another appointment - as if I could forget.

    I took several of my books to give to the ladies who work at the dental office because none of them realized I was an author. To be fair, even though I've been going there for over a decade, I hadn't really talked about my writing. I took four different books, and now they want more. OK, I can do that. They do such a good job - all of them! I can't give them up when I move. I'll have to make the long drive twice a year for my semi-annual visits. It's a must. I love them all.

    So, 3:00 p.m. rolls around, and it's my turn once again to be the center of attention. This mouth required some heavy construction, which would necessitate the use of laughing gas. Sign me up. Don't even think I'm doing the deep scaling thing without the nose-mussle. Nope! It's turned up, and I want a little more Lidocaine than most people, too. I want my face to be NUMB when those shots hit my gums, and I want to be out of it when she starts the mechanized equipment. (She had a few toys to play with.)

    I sat down at 3:08 p.m. and she was finished at 5:21 p.m. She did the upper and lower left side of my mouth -- two quads, and maybe 8 shots, I think. I stopped counting. One hurt, the others I was able to breathe through without too much agony. That nose gas, though, makes you wanna close your eyes and causes you to wonder if the people working on you can hear your thoughts. I was inside my head wondering that, then another thought hit me. I couldn't tell if I was awake or not. I wondered if I had my mouth open wide enough -- I did.

    Believe it or not, I was able to tolerate the last bit without the nose piece, and because I was breathing real air again, my senses came back to me. Not my face nerves; no, they remained unfazed for another three hours, but I was able to suck down a soft pumpkin roll cake thing because it was sort of spiralled. You know what I'm talking about; the cream cheese thing. It was awesome. I'm living on Ibuphofen now, and will for the rest of the evening. I may substitute the last dose before bed for 5 or 6 children's 81mg chewable aspirin. The lidocaine and other drugs are wearing off, and I feel my nerves now.

    The entire event, both the cleaning and the deep cleaning, only cost me $153.00 after insurance. What a deal! I was so happy about it, I scheduled the other half of my face to be scraped and mauled on 12/30 - you know, to celebrate the end of the year! Woo hoo!! Party at Dr. Bauman's place! I'd say bring your own booze because (a) I don't drink, and (b) my lips couldn't hold anything - I'll have to pass on beverages at that point. Laura said she was going to give me a face piercing to see if I could feel it -- no, I'm good; thanks though!!

    If you haven't had the nose gas, I do recommend it. I recommend it because it allows you to relax. It allows you to not stress and not dig your claws into the arms of the dentist's chair. It allows you to stay tilted back in a weird position without giving a damn that you're tilted back in a weird position. It allows you to dream while you're awake - and that's worth every penny, right there. Do it. They now make the little nose covers smaller as well. I used to hate them, but I'm good now. I have learned to somehow talk myself through all the would-be fretting and say a ton of affirmations that not only get me through the experience, but some of them I actually believe.

    Such a day! Three to three and a half hours in the chair with people poking and prodding, scraping, scaling, and rough-housing under my gums! At least I know my teeth are clean, and half of my gums all the way up to my left nostril! I'll get the other done and feel like a completely different person soon. Joy of joy!! One of the affirmations I told myself is that in 2025, I have it so much better than Wyatt Earp did if he ever leaned on his good friend Doc Holliday to help him out with tooth/teeth issues.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

Addicted to U-Haul

     So, Laura and I are moving in 19 days (19 days!!!), and I have reserved a 15-foot U-Haul for the big stuff.  I thought about it, and it was a no-brainer for me. I have a few large pieces of furniture, a treadmill, a couch, and numerous boxes - so, yes, a 15-foot truck will work for the big stuff. It's just the right size for the larger load.  Laura and I will handle moving the boxes and smaller stuff. I can manage that with a 10-foot truck and take it to the new place a couple of days before the big items arrive. It will be a two-part process. 

    This way, we can unpack all the smaller items that go with the larger items before they arrive. I considered getting a bigger one for our load, but since it was just Laura and me doing the packing, driving, unloading, and driving it back, I decided the 10-footer was sufficient for just boxes and whatnots.  I have driven the bigger ones in the past, but that was the past, and I really didn't want to relive that anxious moment again, unless I had to.

    U-Haul has been such a Godsend in my life. I'm surprised I haven't taken the time to research the matter and explore other companies that can assist me when I need to move. I think in the very distant past, I may have used Budget, but if I did, I don't remember them being as easy to use and as friendly as U-Haul has been. I keep going back—and if I'm really lucky, this will be the very last time I have to use a moving service again.

    There have been too many times, far too many times, in my life, when I just didn't have the money to pay for a service. I had children and worked, but the money I made barely stretched from one week to the next. In some cases, far too many cases, it didn't stretch. Reserving a U-Haul would have been impossible. I relied on church friends, family, regular friends, and the occasional co-worker to all gather around and help me pull things together. I can't count the times I had to pack my things and move back to my parents because I couldn't afford rent. I can't count them because my mind has blocked such memories for good reason. It was such a difficult time in my life.

    Today, and by the Grace of God, I am able to afford any service company I wish. I could pay for them to come into my house and box things up for me if I wanted to. I'm not ever going to do something like that, but I could. I think the point is that life can be incredibly chaotic, but there are staples that remain strong and unchanging; things to keep you grounded, and good service is one of those things. You don't have to be rich to afford a U-Haul, and they make it so easy for you with 24/7 around-the-clock operators who are not only helpful but also friendly and willing to listen. I've just never had a bad (or remotely bad) experience with U-Haul. Not one.

    The most memorable experience was when I drove from Oklahoma City to Indianapolis in a 20-foot truck. That was stressful, but again, the truck was nice, the people were great, and the service was professional. Even if there had been an issue, it would have been taken care of immediately with the add-on package of insurance and roadside assistance. Perfect! I'm just so grateful for them. They're everywhere, and they have never let me down. I say I won't have to use them again, but someone will, and I will be there to give U-Haul the thumbs up if I'm asked. I highly recommend using them.

    I'm not sure, but I believe the price of their trucks has remained the same for over 20 years. It seems like 20 years ago, at least 15 years ago, when I moved to Indy, I would have paid the same $19.95 a day for the 10-foot, $29.95 a day for the 15-foot, and $1 a mile rate that I'm paying now. It's just amazing. I will spend about $80 on 11/21 when Laura and I do our load, and about $100 on 11/23 when my son Jon drives the big stuff in the 15-ft truck. So, for about $200 and gasoline, maybe another $40, I'm getting all of my things moved. I'm also renting a dolly each time, and allowing people with muscles and youth to do the heavy lifting. I'll drive the truck one day -- that, and paying for it, is my contribution.

    I have been slowly, methodically, and precisely packing things up in each of the rooms in my house for the past three weeks, and will continue for the next 19 days. Before we rent the first truck, this house will be packed and sealed up! Only the big pieces of furniture, such as desks, appliances, bookshelves, coffee tables, and guitars, will not be in boxes!  I've found the big fat Sharpie and I'm not afraid to use it! Each box is formed, taped, loaded, sealed, and labeled. We are one well-organized machine around here. If we've ever had time to move, this is it. If we've ever had time to pack, we do now. Again, my mind drifts back - slams back - to the days when I had 24 hours to box things up and get out, under Sheriff's orders. Those days are gone!

    I could write a book about how often I had to leave and for all the crazy reasons why, but instead, I'll just add a few of those more interesting events of my real life into the fictional books I write so I can tell the bloody-gory truth, and no one has to believe it was true. They'll think I made it all up! I prefer it that way; that way, no one feels pity for me. I survived. By the Grace of our Lord, I did in fact survive!  I drive down the road, and when I see a U-Haul truck pass me, I think about who is inside. I ask myself, where are they going, or where have they come from? I try to make up little stories about them, and I also tend to say a little prayer for them. I know that may seem or sound silly, but I feel a little connected to them.  If you have to move, as we all do, and you need a service, think U-Haul. 

Photo Credit: UHaul.com

Such a Dork.

     I am truly a major dork. I really am. I'm not sure if I've ever really sat down to compare myself to others, but I am one. I have stated that I am the Queen of Dorkville, so that may be akin to comparing myself to as many as possible. Either way, I am a dork. Today, your dorkiness was spotted driving her bestie around the city where she'll be moving to -- that's me, talking in the second person about myself. I took the opportunity when it arose today, and I took Jeannie, my best friend, to the new city where I'll be living in just three weeks. If I count today, it's actually less than three weeks. I'll move in 20 days!

    Jeannie is always up for a little drive, and this one was especially special because I had a carload of things to donate to Goodwill! That's another one of her favorite things to do. We drove up to the store and didn't see a donation space, so I pulled off into a spot in the parking lot and called them. The guy who answered, William, instructed me to pull around back and to unload. I had never been to that store before -- they helped. They always help. It was magical!  We filled a large blue rolling container with boxes, clothes, and books. I had a ton of books to donate. They were all the same title, too, and when the guy saw that, he asked me if I had raided a publishing house or something. I explained that I was the author, and these books (all 80) were just in a box in the closet, not being read.

    When you think about it, he said, it's like giving them $400 in donations if they sell each book for $5. I told him I'd be surprised if he could, but he could try! I was just happy to get rid of them, and maybe someone out there will have a really good laugh or twelve, because it was 80 copies of my first Blog Book! (Jude's Almost Daily Blog Book) William said he thinks they'll sell, and that's OK by me!  I also ended up giving him my coffee machine, a candy jar, a cookie jar, clothes, and some good (used) computer parts; keyboards, pads, and monitors. He was happy.

    Here's more of the dork stuff -- after we left Goodwill, I drove Jeannie to the city where I'm going to live and yes, I pulled into the driveway of the house I'm going to buy -- the for sale sign was still up, which upset me, but I will take it down myself on the 21st when I move into the house. It does make a person feel a little antsy when they see something like that. If there weren't cameras on the buildings across the street from me, I would have pulled the sign out of the ground myself. Damn that blasted CCTV!

    I drove into the driveway and continued past the house to the land, where I looked at the barn, the surrounding area, and the exterior of my house. Just 20 more days! Nineteen days and a wake-up! I can't wait. I visited a small thrift store in the city and found two really nice end tables that I'll pick up next week, and I'll also pay for a refrigerator. We really don't want anything fancy in the house; it's not necessary. I was going to get a side-by-side unit on Marketplace, but it's hard to trust people on Craigslist or Marketplace. They could lie.

    The man who owns the thrift store put one of the Frigidaire units in the back for me. I told him I'll come by Saturday (next week) and pay him cash. I only had a card on me today. He was cool with it. For $250 and $25 for delivery, I'll get a 2005 model Frigidaire white 20-cubic-foot refrigerator that still runs, and he'll give me a 30-day guarantee. I love small-town people. I really do. We were leaving the city and saw a large group of people in the park with their trucks and trailers, their tailgates down, sharing diapers, food, clothes, and other essentials with those in need. It's a monthly thing! I love that!

    I won't be able to do it next month, but after the first of the year, I can.  I may start volunteering for the concession stand at the baseball and/or basketball games. I won't do them all, but I can do one or two a month. That way, the parents can go see their kids play. I think small towns are the best. It really isn't too far-fetched to say where I'm moving, a person's word is gold, and they can shake hands and keep their promise. I love that. I hope the ideals of the olden ways can somehow rub off on a few others -- it's needed.

    I took Jeannie over to Tractor Supply, where I knew she'd be just as excited as I was that 6-foot T-posts were on sale for $5.09 a piece, and the three-strand twisted smooth wire was only $79 for a roll of 1320 feet! That's right! You read that correctly. I'll need that, some T-caps, and some connectors, and I am ready to go on that horse fence. I'll need three wooden posts and two 16-ft gates -which were a little high at the Tractor Supply, so I'll try Marketplace for those. It's hard to lie about a gate online - really hard to lie about it. It is, or it is not, a 16-foot pipe gate. 

    I won't need four wooden posts because there is already an existing metal one in place -- I knew you were thinking the project through in your mind -- just three wooden posts.  The fence guy will install it, and we will have a place for the new mare in no time. I am just too happy — and by 'too happy,' I mean incredibly happy. I know there are people who would rather die than buy a used fridge from a local man at a thrift store, but that's just who I am. Why spend $1390 on a new unit if an older one works, looks good, and can help a neighbor? Yep, the world needs more dorks! That's what we need -- more dorks!

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

The Peabody Kill Pen - To the Rescue.

     See what I did there, with the title? Yeah, I'm clever like that. So, the Peabody Kill Pen in Kansas is a horse rescue venue where you can (and should) go to get your next horse - or seven. You should and could go there, or online, if you think you're just weeks away from owning property that will need to be fenced so you can host and/or provide shelter for said animals. It's a must, and it is exactly what I did. You just can't trust me around sites like this one, not when I'm about to buy a house with land. The fact that it has a barn on it already was a deciding factor, but let me just say that the Peabody Kill Pen is an awesome place to do your last-minute or pre-minute horse rescuing. 

    Laura and I do quite a bit of pretending when it comes to horse-shopping. We haven't had our own land since 2011; it's been 14 years since we've had horses on land that we lived on, so she can look out the window and count their fuzzy noses. Copeland was just a baby -- it was Thanksgiving 2011. Then, when we moved back to Oklahoma, we lived in an apartment for 10.5 years and this house for 1.5 years, and we just never had the same experience. We boarded for a while, but it became too expensive to continue. When our board was the same as our rent, we knew it was time to let the horses go. That was 2020, I think.

    Now, we can hope and dream, and even do a little horse shopping for real. We have the barn and the plans for the new fencing to go in on the first or second day we move into the place. The dog fence is being done professionally, and the horse fence will be sort of us helping the professional to cut down on some of the costs. By "us," I do mean Laura. My contribution to the building of anything starts and ends with me funding the project. That's fine by me, too; I'm not a builder. 

    Knowing that we had a place coming and a barn to house a horse made it all too easy for us to go online and start looking for what we would eventually buy -- you know, down the road. That lasted a good thirty minutes, and then it was my turn to hit the message button on Facebook to ask about a horse we both liked. We both liked it for me, which is weird, because I usually don't have a teenage sorrel and white pregnant Paint mare topping my list of must-have horses. I typically say I'll look for a teenage gelding, probably sorrel, but definitely not a mare, and most definitely not pregnant. 

    What we both found - separately, because she was looking online in her office and I was in mine- was a teenage, sorrel and white Paint mare that stands about 14.2H, and she was just starting to show. Her teats were drooping, but not dropping. She's likely about four months pregnant, which will put the baby's arrival in the summer or late spring. I liked her eyes. They were kind, soft, easy, and relaxed. She didn't try to push or outwalk the man handling her. She was quiet, soft-footed, sweet, and just sort of rambled. She had no intention of pushing through or even lifting her head to take control of the situation. She was content.

    Laura liked her eyes as well, and the comments from the lady running the facility helped. I don't know who was talking, but she said the mare was about 15 years old, had been ridden in the past, but not recently. She was covered likely, and recently, by what she said was a grulla stallion - they all say that. They say the mystery sire is a grulla or a blue roan to get you suckered into buying the mare and keeping or selling the baby. I know us, we'll keep it. We'll keep it no matter what color it is, no matter what sex it is, and listen, if it comes out a big-earred mule baby - we would do the dance! We'd love that.

    So, Laura is sitting there in her room thinking about the mare, and thinking about how she could train her for me, while I was thinking about the mare and how Laura could train her for me.  I love my sorrel quarter horse geldings, don't get me wrong, but I am not picky. I'd be just as happy with an Appy. I'd be just as pleased with a bay, roan, you name it, I'd love it. I don't mind good quiet mares - it's the you-know-what mares that I don't like; who does? Well, that's another story for another time.

    The little mare is solid. She has thick stout legs, all four of them are white. Her blanket, top, and backside are sorrel, as is her head, and she has a big side patch over one hip, a couple of splashes, one on each side, and her neck has a white patch with sorrel dots. Her mane is mostly white, but her forlock is sorrel. Her tail is a mix of both colors. She is gorgeous!  We'll never know her background. We'll never know her original name or what others called her. We won't know if she's been scared, abused, turned out, forgotten, used, loved, or whatever -- but we know we'll call her "Jace" and we'll spoil the tarnation out of her.

    The moment we get her, which will be around my birthday, we'll have her teeth floated, her hooves trimmed, her shots given, and her worming done. She'll have an indoor bath at the vet's office, and she'll be groomed every day and probably every night, because when we have horses, we don't do much else other than hang out with them. Laura doesn't care if she has one for herself yet - she's gonna be too busy getting this one all toned up and ready to go - and after that baby is born, Laura will be even busier!  It's just the way it is - at least I know where she is at all times.

    That's it. Peabody Kill Pen to the rescue! It was EASY! We saw her, we asked about her, we paid using Venmo, and they'll take her to QT for us too; it's a small charge, but worth it. We have a man to watch her for 2-3 weeks, then she'll be hauled down this way -- I can't wait. I think the most exciting part of it is the cost -- it's not as much as people may think. It's reasonable when you go the route we usually go to find an animal. We don't buy them from breeders. This horse will be registered as an American Pinto in the American Pinto Association, but she's a grade horse; no known pedigree.

    The rescue bail was $950. The transport to QT is $150. The QT is $15/day, and the hauling to the house is $2 per loaded mile. That's about $350 from where she'll be located in southern Kansas to our home in El Reno, Oklahoma.  All in all, somewhere around $1800-1900, and for a broke mare that's going to give birth to something beautiful -- that's a steal anyway you look at it. Two for one!

Photo Credit: Peabody Kill Pen

PENDING!! (Our House)

     So, we looked, and our house is listed as PENDING on all the MLS websites! Yep, that's right, it's no longer up for sale. The contract has been signed by both sides, and the inspection(s) have begun. Today, we had two of those inspections. The actual physical inspection took place, followed by the pest control inspection.  Let me just say that when you decide to buy a house, you really should consider all the little expenses that can certainly add up rather quickly.

    My real estate agent is the best, but I don't remember her telling me that we'd need a pest control inspection. I think she mentioned it, but it was more of a thing we needed but wasn't required. Then, after the regular inspection guy was scheduled, I was told that the pest control person had been out at the same time—two invoices! Oh, OK! The home inspection was $620, and the pest inspection was another $129; doable! Nothing was out of line or too expensive, but when you aren't expecting it, it can be rather surprising.

    One of the best things about looking for houses is seeing what's out there. When you're actually hoping to buy, if you're like me, you'll want to exclude anything listed as "Pending" because it's under contract anyway, and you can't see it. You can't even hope to peek into the windows without someone notifying someone -- at least, I think so! Our house is now in "Pending" status!! It won't show up when others look for their new home. I wasn't too worried about it, but then, I sort of was. 

    When I was first looking, I didn't exclude the pending listings. I wanted to see anything and everything that was out there—to get an idea of what I hoped to end up with. I remember the first time I saw the house I just went under contract on; it was for sale, and they had a rather steep price attached to it. I saw the photos, we set up a time to go see it, and when I opened the door, I knew it was overpriced and no one was going to make any offers.  I was even more sure no one would buy my house out from under me when I saw the outdated kitchen, wallpaper, bathroom vanities, windows, and light fixtures. It was, for lack of a better term, a time warp machine right back to the yesteryears.

    Though the sellers had replaced the flooring in the bedrooms, they hadn't finished the cabinets, countertops, tile in the kitchen and baths, and they hadn't even attempted to replace a single old, old, old window. This house was going to be mine - no doubt about it. As for the price, that's always negotiable. In the end, we ended up spending even more than the posted price, which sounds crazy, but it's true. In the end, we wound up buying twice as much land as we thought we were buying, and only paid $12,000 more for those seven acres—that's a steal, anyway you look at it.

    The inspection told us two things we had no idea were happening at the place, and about 35 things we knew would need attention. The sellers will have to pay for some of these fixes, but even if they balk and refuse, we'll end up buying the house and going down on the price to compensate for our own investments. I can see that happening if you want the truth. There's nothing about that that would be too much for us to handle—we won't cancel the contract. We're moving into that house! It is mine! (She says, smiling, and inhaling a long, deep, and very satisfying breath.) 

    The kitchen cabinets, the gun cabinet in the hall, and the bathroom vanities in that house were made around 1980, a few years after the house was built. A man in his late 40s built them, and they are rock-solid, gorgeously fitted, and feature some of the best craftsmanship I have ever seen.  Having been raised in a home where the garage was made into a make-shift carpenter's haven, I grew up discerning the smells of wood, their grain, and the way each tree species sounded when being sawed in two by a table-top spinning saw blade. The shrill of it lingers in my brain.

    Now, you're probably asking yourself how in the hell I would know who built those cabinets, when they were built, and how old the trim carpenter was at the time -- because the man who built the cabinets, and topped them off the way he did, and put in the countertops of the house I'm going to buy was my daddy! MY DADDY built those cabinets - I knew it the second I walked into the house. I knew it the second I saw them - I was going to buy that house come hell or high water, and I did! Nothing will stop me from getting it —at least, I hope not. 

    Some things are worth investing in—and this is one of them. If we have to pay for all that the inspector found, we will.  I'll replace the Formica countertops, but the rest will stay just the way it is now -- perfect.  The seller didn't know what I knew, and he was going on about the cabinets' ageless design— how they were just as beautiful today as when the builder put them in. I smiled, and then I corrected him. "These weren't built in 1970, sir. They were built sometime between 1976 and 1990, but not before." He shook his head, saying he didn't think so—and then I told him who the trim carpenter was.

    Some things are just worth investing in—and I am doing that right now.

Photo Credit: Me