My Son of A Bitch!

Call my son many things and you may get your nose punched in - if not be him, by me. I stand by my baby boy probably a little more steadfast than most moms might if only for the fact that he was given the raw end of the deal early on. Call my son a "Son of a Bitch" and you've hit the nail on the head! Yes, he is one.

When a woman makes herself out to be assertive she's often regarded by her male counterparts as being, well , bitchy. He's an intelligent and well educated man, where she may be considered a know-it-all and a smart-ass. Like most things in our lifetime, being intimidated by a woman's upfront nature, confident face, and informative voice is just going to take a little time with most insecure people....unfortunately. Time may change, no, time will change that probably, but until then I'll take the name calling - I can handle it. When someone calls me a bitch, I usually turn and add "That's Dr. Bitch, thank you." I worked my butt off for that title - got a high score in the process, too.

Reuben was in the 10th grade, on the field, in his #63 jersey playing defensive end for the Putnam City Pirates - I think he was actually going against my old school, their rivals, the Putnam City West Patriots. He lined up after just having sacked the Pat's quarterback - again, and the nose guard snarled at my baby. He and Reu had played ball together in the 8th grade, and he came across with a greeting my son picked up on very nicely - "Don't try that again, you son of a bitch" the kid scoffed at the bruised and smiling DE - "You called me a son of a bitch?" Reuben asked "Yeah, you're a son of a bitch!" was his reply - "Oh, I guess you remember my mom, cool. She's doing fine, thanks for asking." With that he made another attempt at stopping the ball. My son. 100% my son.

There are in my opinion, two types of men in this world - men who will, and men who won't accept themselves and others as being needed, loved, necessary, and capable of great things. My son is a man who knows he didn't get where he is today alone. I like to think I had something to do with that realization - I won't let him back down, I won't let him give in, I won't let him question or doubt truth. He and I both say things we don't mean from time to time, and we both know that sometimes we're completely full of it - not only IT, but ourselves as well. Good for us!

So, yeah - call him a BASTARD and I'll remind you that his father's name is Richard Palmer Lock - call my son a son of a bitch, and I'll just smile at you while he explains, there ain't nothing better to be! (His words)

John Maloney of Altoona, PA (about 50 years old)

Hey - are you out there? Are you in PA? I'm looking for just one JM from Altoona. He's about 5'9", curly headed kid with a big goofy grin on his face, and he liked listening to Prince. 1982 was a good/bad year for the man - he was in love....but sadly, he was in love with me. I let that go - and I'd like to say I'm sorry. That same year this particular John lived in Oklahoma City, worked in construction, walked to work, and lived off of 22nd and Classen - do you remember?

Well, 29 years is a long time to go by without a proper apology, but if anyone in the world deserves one it would be you John. I have no idea what time and the Lord had in store for you. If I had a time machine I could go back - but I'd bring my three babies with me. You probably have a few too. If you're out there - if you're googling your name and you come across a face that looks familiar - maybe not so apt to run away when you say you love me...write and let me know you're OK.

I often pray for you friend, I often think of you - usually around St. Patrick's Day; you were the only true Irishman I ever kissed! Every day was green with you! Time. I lost it.

If sorry is enough - I offer that. If more is required, I'm OK with that too. I will always consider you a friend.
jude.stringfellow@gmail.com

Let the Mayhem Begin!

You've seen this photo before, but you'll NO DOUBT see it again. It is the cover shot for the jacket of Laura's debut CD which I don't even know the name of.

Laura's demo will be hitting the producers and the music makers soon - I have about six months more of sanity from the girl, and then it all breaks loose. After the first session of listening to it, tweeking, and just going over it a few times we had calls from boys wanting her to join their local bands - makes you wonder where they were when she was begging huh?

Well, hello to the world of MUSIC - we can diversify I suppose. Caity and I will guard the writing industry while Laura sings. It's a good plan. Everyone wants to know what she sounds like - I think every mom thinks her baby girl sounds better than anyone, but to be honest she throws like a mix of Kelly Clarkson, Avril, and Lindsay Lohan - and then out of nowhere she'll speak Japanese and giggle! She's Laura. Enough said.

So, keep the ears peeled and open for the latest - When people think of Oklahoma they immediately fall to the Toby Keith, Reba, Garth, and now Carrie side of things - but hey, we have Color Me Bad, All American Rejects and NOW - we have Laura. Could be a coup for the Sooner state afterall. Somebody buy this girl a Slug Bug - I'm short on cash today, she's not a Mercedes type or Pick-up Girl. Bright GREEN please.

Congrats to you my little girl - remember, I get into the concerts for free, and you're still doing the dishes every other night! (and pick up your room before the sanitation department fines me!)

Faith Alone!

Look, the little book is out.
When I saw this on Amazon

today I was amazed. I didn't

know they were even going

to sell it.

Faith Alone: Stories of an Amazing Dog (ISBN: 142573678-5) is a little book, only 124 pages, but it is completely relating to my dog Faith because so many people wrote to me after reading With a Little Faith and they wanted a book more or less about Faith, not my family. I loved one reviewer - he said, "Could you stop whining and just get on with your life? Tell us about the dog!" OK - but I never said the first book was about the DOG in the first place - the big, fat, ugly, publicist did that, thank you!

Faith Alone is overpriced in my opinion too. I wouldn't pay the price Amazon has set for it, or the price that Xlibris has set for it either. I'm cheap I guess - but it's cool to see that it is available. The reason behind the shorter manuscript was simple: I wanted kids to be able to pick up a copy in their school libraries and read it in just a couple of sittings. It meets every scholastic criteria for a report - I saw to that! Being an educator I thought about it long and hard - and wanted dozens if not thousands of kids writing about a little dog that has the guts and courage to stand up for herself. Maybe it would rub off on them! That's the plan.

So, if you're out there on Amazon and you decide to look up a fun, adventureous little book that can make you laugh, cry, shout, and roll over to pet your own dog or cat - you should like this one. Faith tends to bring out the best and the beast in all of us. She's the fiestiest little girl I've ever raised - well, maybe not as fiesty as Caity, but in dog-terms...she's the one! Hope you enjoy it, I'm just thrilled to see it's available. I apologize in advance for the cost. Believe me, if it were up to me, I'd probably give it away.

What Kind of Cheese are YOU?

Remember the Sniper Quiz? (I love quiz taking) My good friend suggested that I go on line and look up "What Kind of Cheese Are You?" in Google - so I did. There's a quiz! You too, can find out in only 6 questions what kind of cheese best suits your personality - I think it has more to do with your favorite color. I'm a BLEU Cheese. They didn't have BROWN as one of the colors, and brown has always been my favorite. It says something about me don't you think? If you look up what it means when someone chooses brown as their favorite color - you will find that I am very mysterious, earthy, determined, founded in truth, and above all I am honest. This is true - more so than the cheese quiz if you ask me. Nevertheless - I am proud to say that I am a big, fat, hunk of the BLEU. Here's is the verbatim on it. Good luck! Google it for yourself and see.

QUOTE:
"You are blue cheese!You are a soft, crumbly white blue-streaked cheese. You are very cool and mellow. You are very knowledgeable and wise and people come to you for advice and help.Blue cheese is a white cheese with blue veins and a sometimes crumbly interior. This cheese usually has tangy, piquant, spicy and peppery flavor. Use in salad dressings with cream cheese for spreads. [Texture: hard, semi-soft ]"

I do agree actually - I am very tangy and spicy too. I'm pretty sure at my age the crumbly interior is going on too! Dang it!

Vacancy!

VACANCY!

There is nothing full about

this place! JESUS has left

the building! He is ALIVE

and that has to be the best

news ever. Happy Easter.

The world celebrates very few holidays together. We all have separate thoughts about Christmas, about New Years, about our various independence day, or the days that symbolize the marking of historical events, people, places, and in all of this - we are liberally tolerant of each other. EASTER is the one holiday that is soley symbolic of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. There is NO OTHER holiday like it. There is no reason for a substitute - He is no longer in the grave. He arose that very first Easter morning, and even though our religious leaders throughout the centuries have celebrated this day differently, adding lent, adding candles, adding incense, adding prayers, adding this or that - the empty tomb is still the most rewarding sight (and site), because without the tomb's mouth shouting full-out that HE IS NOT HERE, HE IS GONE! We would have very little to celebrate - we would be doomed.

Nothing funny or cute about this particular blog - just a way for me to demonstrate that without Christ in my life I would be dead myself, and without hope. If He is not yet in your life - I pray, and I pray, that you will find Him. He's not far from you now - e-mail me if you need any help finding Him, there's nothing shy about my opinions. I will tell you the truth.

Thank you Jesus, Thank you God!

Even so, come quickly.

Chicago Condo!

Searching! Searching! Anyone out there with a little insight, please give me an e-mail or comment - I'm in the market for a nice condo in Chicago without the realtor's BS about not being able to tell me where to spend my money.

Funny, you can tell a realtor you want to be in a safe neighborhood without much crime (she laughs, because it's like saying you want a quiet neighborhood in NYC) and you can tell the realtor that you want to be close to the bustle without the noise of the EL train, but they can't tell you what area to buy in. That would be illegal. I have $300K to spend and they can't tell me where to spend it. I don't get that.

In Oklahoma $300K will get you a 4300 sq ft house in an area with less crime than the local Lutheran Church. It'll be the best dang hood in the city for sure, and if you want the outskirts - just ask. Oh, but don't ask a licensed realtor - they won't even flinch for fear that you'll turn them in for favortism - backlash advice, or something they call "unethical practice" because they can't reveal the stats to you regarding the murders, rapes, arson, robberies and/or assaults in the area - that would be UNFAIR to YOU they say! No, really - it's not. I want to spend the $300K knowing I'm going to LIVE to enjoy it.

That same $300K in Chicago (and NYC) will get you a condo, which is what I want - in a highrise, which is what I want, and it may (just may) get you a gym membership. (Those cost $275.00 a year here, by the way, and come with a private trainer for an extra $150.00 annual fee) I don't want to be pushy and ask for a garage space - one of my freedom acts is to be without a car for about a year to see if I can do it. Heck, I just want to see if I can survive a week or two of the winter weather before taking off for Panama City, Florida - I doubt I make 2 full weeks anyway.

So...here's what I expect from you: Write me - tell me where to move to, and I know from others it's suppose to be north of 20th and East of Wicker - cool - what do you think about Sheridan Street vs. Kenmore vs. Marine? Did you know there isn't a Starbucks within winter walking distance from 5000 N. Marine, Chicago? Big, gorgeous building, but I will not spend the $300K there if I can't walk to a Starbucks! Forget about it - not happening! Oh, and I will have Faith, and I have my perfect dog Matrix too - so parks are nice. I'm planning on paying a service in the winter to walk the dogs - I'm such a weenie...and I'm buying a DeLonghi Magnifica model expresso machine for the hard-winter months as well. I can always put on a green apron and pretend I work at as a barista!

Love to you all who know what I'm searching for!! It's the writer in me I guess, but I think it's time to suffer for the cause. (Hahahaha...right, I'm just getting the heck out of Dodge!)

Good Friday to You!

ONLY God Almighty can make it snow in Oklahoma with the temperature being 40-44 degrees farenheit! I woke up this morning to the thought that the pollen must be outrageous! I saw white flakes falling, twisting, spinning in the air - and when I let the dogs out - the pollen was frozen! It was hitting my face and I looked up laughing - ONLY YOU GOD! Only You!

The entire day represents of course, the first full day and night that our Savior Jesus Christ was separated from us, while he was laid in the tomb - alone, cold, dead - no wonder the weather patterns become confused. No wonder the skies cry. Here, in Oklahoma, if you check the weather patterns for this particular day - no, not April 6, but the day of Good Friday - you will be utterly amazed at the way He, and yes, HE ALONE, can do what He does with our weather - getting our attention every single time. Sometimes it rains non-stop, other times it is so gray and so dark that we swear it's Saturday before it's actually noon on Friday. Today - snow!

Was it a good day? Oh, I don't know - my dogs got out. I had to chase them down with the car and assure Laura that they had to feel a bit uneasy about the weather themselves...they will return home. They just wanted a bit of really fresh air. About an hour later I went to comfort a friend who lost his father this week - and I couldnt' cry for him. He wasn't crying either. We realized that THIS Easter his father will be with OUR Father, and DANG that makes me so very jealous. Everytime someone that I know is a Christian dies - I get a knot of sheer envy throbbing in my stomach. He'll get to be there! He'll get to celebrate there! I'm stuck here, and no matter how great here is today - it isn't there.

But it was a Good Friday. My Girly-Girl Cop decided to come home and let her mark be made. She decided not to play the game that the Oklahoma Highway Patrol wanted her to play - they tried their damnest to humiliate her, to push her to greater limits than any of the men that made the academy - and JUST because she's a woman they thought it was OK to single her out, and to make her do things that they would NEVER ask a man to do - so she nodded, politely declined to continue, and she'll never be outdone - I bet NO OTHER woman over 40 makes it as far as she did, and if they do - they will probably succumb to the bullies - she stood up....and...and..she's going to write a book about it to express her willingness to help other women who refuse to be made to feel less of a person just because she wanted to serve in a boys club. She won!

I am not, am not, am not a male-basher - but I won't stand for a man (or in her case a bunch of men) to try and break the spirit of a woman. It will not happen without a fight - and she fought! What a great way to celebrate a Good Friday! Raise your hands and say thank you to any and every WOMAN who was strong enough to be a woman....when you needed one! Thanks Niki! You're my hero today!

Happy Easter to the World and to my God.

It Comes Naturally For Me!

Happy 72nd MOMMY! This is my Mom, she's the funny looking one on the right. The handsome man next to her is her first cousin, famous baseball player Calvin Julius Caesar Tuskahoma McLish!

When I tell you that my good looks and talent come naturally I mean it. Before I was born my mom was scheming and dreaming, meeting famous actors such as James Garner, Dale Robertson, James Cagney and others - mainly because she, like me, put herself in the situation or the location to meet people of interest. Like me, Mom was never star-struck or really all that personally impressed by a persona - why should she be? People are people - right?

If ever there was a dame to be celebrated for bravo, intuition and sheer gutsy-go it would be Rebecca Ruth Edwards. Let me tell you a little something about Miss Sneakypants - that way you'll know that what I do isn't altogether my fault - it's in the GENES. (You should have met her father, she didn't stand a chance either!)

The Sunday following Labor Day 1955 - think about the weather, think about the time of day - it was 10 minutes past the start of the weekly sermon at 40th Street Baptist Church, so if every Baptist church starts at 9 :30 then it must have been aroun 9:40 a.m. when my poor father lost his license to remain a single man. Mom (at that time Miss Becky Edwards, unmarried and oh-so-cute in her little new bobbed hairdo and clean pressed wool skirt and button-down jacket to match) walked into the back of the church, into the entrance, and promptly sat beside her little sister Naomi who was instructed to save my mother a seat should she be late - and late she was. Everyone turned around, everyone saw her coming into the back of the auditorium, everyone looked at her new suit - it was worth the $15.00 price tag JUST for that reason. She wasn't late - she was making an entrance.

Mom giggled a bit, shyly lowered her head as she ducked into her pew beside her equally mischievious sister and waved off her onlookers with a dainty gloved hand as if to say "Nothing to see, turn around please." One face did not completely turn around to face the minister - that was his first mistake. Dad was always a little slow now that I think about it. LOST! GOTCHA! Caught! The man was seen - the eyes were held - the plot began to capture the U.S. Naval sailor, the new boy sitting just ahead of the two giggling girls.

"Naomi, I'm going to marry that man", she said softly between the 2nd and 4th stanza of Amazing Grace (Baptists never sing the 3rd stanza of any old hymn. Not true Baptists anyway!) "I'm going to marry him, and you can have his brother if he's got one." That promise being made - my father made an attempt to get away as fast as he could - perhaps he saw the look in her green eyes, perhaps he sensed his collar tightening when he once again turned to look her over before trying to exit the building.

OUT went her foot into the aisle , AS SHE PRAYED, and DOWN went the noble sailor who must have had his eyes on the back door! BAM! To the floor in all his glory, noise has always been my dad's enemy - he absolutely hates a scene. Banking on this male instinct Mom quickly threw her glove to the ground - and YES, being the very Southern gentleman that my dad is, he retrieved it and then he returned it. THAT was mistake number 2. If he wasn't hooked before, he was in the pail at this point.

"My name is Becky" she began. "Wayne" was his return. "Well, Reuben Wayne, but they call me Wayne." She smiled - pirates smile at times like this. We (did I say we?) get a little information, and we store it - storing it requires the break of a slight smile to seal the door on the compartment of the storage space in our brains. "Wayne, I have a problem. I don't have a date to the picnic after church. It's just in a few minutes, and well, I don't have a single opportunity to find a boy to take me - I came in late, and all the boys are taken." THIS is where my dear sweet dad made his third and final mistake - they went to the picnic together - ONLY there wasn't a picnic! It was just mom's little mean and manipulating way to keep him a little longer - and alone.

Her plan was simple - walk to the park, and on the way pick up a basket of this and that from her house which, if you walked straight down 40th street would be just perfectly situated between the church and the park. They did this of course, and being home, and able to change clothes in a flash, the little petite gal went from buttoned up Miss Priss to a jeans-clad 50's girl complete with her brother's white polo, delicate scarf about the neck, and even - yes, the vanilla perfume from her mother's cabinet just behind the ears. Ears you could now see and smell since her waist length hair had been cut only days before to reveal the new womanly sprite - her new and true self. For his part - dad just stood there with his mouth opened and nodded as he passed four of her five brothers and a couple of her sisters who knew absolutely NOTHING of a picnic following the service, but certainly knew their little Becky!

On December 3, 1955 - less than 2 months later, my mom and my dad married. MARRIED. He fell literally for the woman with the pretty little waistline, the thick auburn curls, and that...smile, that wicked, twisted little curved up smile - and he's been smiling ever since.

Happy Birthday She-Devil! Love ya more than you'll know.

Your Hard-Earned Tax Dollars at Work!

Photo Credit: Someone other than me. It wasn't listed. Did you know that our government is into spending our money in ways that MIGHT not meet with every one of our expectations? Oh, you knew that? Well then, this won't surprise you at all.

My son, my beautiful, directionally-challenged U.S. Army soldier son Reuben called me to inform me that he had once again "stepped in it" and that meant that he and his battle buddies had to make restitution for his faux-paux...if I had, oh I don't know, a dime for every folly, flub, boo-boo, or oopsy that my baby boy created for me during the first 21 years of his life - there wouldn't be a need to write for a living - we'll say that. I love the kid - but really - a navigator in a multi-million dollar tank should be able to tell the difference between East and West at 6:45 p.m. ... the sun usually has something to do with it - wouldnt' you think? He wasn't driving the tank, he was navigating - and the top was open! The top was open! (Of course they were outside, someone asked me if they were performing the manuever outside when this happened today - yes, they drive tanks outside most of the time!)

My Baby Boy misguided his team - and the only excuse he gave when they came in dead last place was that he didn't know which direction the sun was going to be setting - TODAY! Do you or do you not feel safe knowing that MY SON will be protecting you? You'll feel a lot better when I tell you that he's an expert shooter, has the highest ranks in hand-to-hand, pistol, grenade (that makes me happy) and in DRIVING the tank - it's the navigation that tripped him up. You should also know that he can't be beat at NCAA Playstation gaming and has over 38 straight seasons of being the National Championship Head Coach and that includes his personal designing and redesigning of plays that haven't hit the gridiron yet because he's saving them for when he becomes a high school coach. He was on one of Oklahoma's BEST high school football teams, and he was the leader year after year - but THANK GOD no one ever asked him to take the ball to the East goal, or to the West goal - he just had the kill whoever had the ball in their hands! (Reggie White taught him that much. Reuben played ironman lineman.)

So, with the loss came a challenge - a well known, in-your-face challenge that allowed every other member of the unit at least a 30-40 minute headstart marching their way back to the bunker. The LOSERS had to find out scientifically - through hard work and concentration - exactly how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Toosie Pop! My son lucked out and volunteered to be the counter rather than on the licking team. The answer - 4,233 unless you count Pvt. Simmons' attempt to bite through the last thinning layers - and - they were not allowed to just lick one side - had to be all the way around until the chocolate was exposed on all sides.

Now you know! Hooah!