Dating is Dangerous

 If you don't know me you won't know that I'm single and very much planning on staying that way. I last dated someone in 1999, and even then it was a bit sketchy! The internet dating sites were all the rage at that time, and believe it or not I dabbled in it long enough to learn three things: people lie about their appearance, they lie about their past, and the most certainly lie about their issues which may or may not be a game changer for most sane would be suiters.  I can't tell you how many times I TOLD THE TRUTH about my age, my height, my weight, my body shape, the length of my hair, my likes and dislikes, my spiritual life (walk with Christ) and oh yes, I mentioned that I'd rather take a hike in the woods or up a mountain than on the sandy beaches; that's just me. I TOLD THE TRUTH -- I was the only one who did.

Time after time after time I would meet someone online, we'd talk, make arrangements to meet and do the whole "I'll-bring-a-friend-to-sit-in-the-corner-of-the-cafe-to-save-me-if-I-need-saving" thing, which worked in my favor more times than not.  I'd show up EXACTLY how I said I would be, and either at the pre-discussed table or coming through the door would be this fat, bald, frumpy dump of a soul who either had just combed over his last remaining scrap of hair, or he'd be tucking in the remnants of a shirt tail that just couldn't stay tucked due to the mass of belly punching through - - does that sound mean of me? It's not. I told the truth.  If a man didn't want to meet me after I told him my height, weight, bulk, etc., he had the choice, but GIVE ME THAT CHOICE TOO! I'm not perfect, but caring for yourself is important.  Oh there was this one guy that came to the cafe wearing silver and purple striped pants, a bright red velvet jacket, and a top hat! No, I'm NOT kidding you - - I smiled politely, excused myself after having waved at my friend, who was already standing up and walking toward me with her hand reaching into her purse for her little pea-shooter of a .22, and I simply said "I hope you have a blessed day, sir", before shaking my head and swearing off the sites forever. It only took 6-10 times of liar after liar after liar for me to get it through my head that this just wasn't the way I wanted to meet a man.  Eventually, I did it the old-fashioned way, my friend Nancy set me up with her co-worker Dennis.  It lasted until it didn't, and that was the last of my dating days. March 31, 1999.  

I decided at age 36 that I wasn't going to date again, I had kids to raise. I had an education to obtain, I had work. I simply didn't have time to devote to men; not that my last boyfriend wasn't the best of men, because he was. It just wasn't the time to be connected to anyone who wasn't immediate family. I made the right decision. He married and had kids, something I wasn't going to do for him. God blessed him, and I am forever thankful for that gift for him as well as for me; I can truly say I ended it on a great note, and we are still good friends in our hearts. 

If a man like Dennis was to suddenly find himself divorced in 2021 with three kids ages 14, 10, and 8 in tow, he would have such a difficult time trying to find someone who would both love him and love his kids.  He'd have to find one without kids if he expected to have time for his kids without having to blend families, put up with ex-spouses, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, church friends, work friends, anyone and everyone telling him that they saw her online with so-and-so, her social media may say she's in a solid relationship, but her tweets say otherwise, and boy oh boy, he'd have to run tests on her to be sure she wasn't one of the 18%  of singles who are carriers of sexually transmitted diseases these days too!  With the ever increasing means of hiding truths electronically these days, it's hard to know if someone really is working from home, if they're unemployed but saying they have a steady job, or if they are in debt up to their eyebrows just looking for someone to bail them out - - all the while trying to manage daycare, play-dates, shuffling custody situations, and that's IF they get along with their ex - - the list goes on and on and into an eternal horror show when you bring in step-mom, step-dad and those blended schedules that never seem to work out. NO THANK YOU -- I will stay single!

I can't even imagine being a single parent in 2021 - - maybe that's why so many miserable parents are staying married today - - you know, for the kids!  That's BS too because the kids are the ones who suffer the most from that arrangement. You should NEVER stay in a soured relationship for the kids. You shouldn't stay for money either - - but that's another blog. 

NOPE...looking back I know I made the right decision NEVER to date again. I had all the custody issues to deal with, but I didn't have to really bring in the chaos of another soul's life issues with his ex and his ex's ex...which happens more than you may think. If Dennis ever did find himself looking for a woman to love again, and if he asked me for advice I'd tell him to find an older woman who had kids, but doesn't have them now -- she would know how to care for him, for them, and would be more likely to understand the times...and boy howdy, these are indeed some crazy crazy times, aren't they?  THANK YOU JESUS, for giving me the insight to ask for celibacy.  It worked.

Noodlin' -- A Fishy Tale

Let's get one thing straight right off the bat, I'm from Oklahoma, and in Oklahoma we noodle for fish. Noodling, or as we say it here in the Southwest, "noodlin' " is a method of fishing without a pole, without anything really except your bare hands.  It's been legal at times, it's been banned, it's been ignored by the rangers for the most part, but to let you know the gist of how it's done it's simply this: you step about knee to thigh high in some of the muckiest dirtiest water you'll ever see on God's green Earth, and you plunge your arms into the muck about elbow deep searching for and feeling for those wigglin' catfish that tend to cover themselves with the muddy silt of the deeper wider rivers and the lakes in our fair state. When you find one you can try to wrap both hands around the slimy monster but the best way to catch a catfish if you're noodlin' is to cram your bare fisted hand down its throat, lift it up by its midsection, and call it done.  Cheaper on bait, but let me tell you, those boys have teeth! Best to wear gloves.  

Why am I telling you about the ins and outs of noodlin' anyway? Well, I like fish stories I guess. I'm a big fan of the time(s) Jesus took a few fish and broke them up to feed thousands of men, women, and children on the sides of the mounts in Israel. I also like to tell the story of how Jonah had his piss-poor fishing experience, and how my grandpa said Jonah learned really quickly that God has a plan for everyone and everything -- you see, the fish was sent to the very spot Jonah was cast out of the boat, and the FISH obeyed God when God sent it to a part of the world where those larger fish don't often go to -- the FISH obeyed God; let that sink in for a minute.  Jonah ended up doing exactly what God wanted him to do in the first place before he was swallowed by our gilly friend, but the FISH obeyed God the first time. I wonder what sort of reward the big guy received for being on target? Maybe it wasn't a fish at all. Maybe God sent an angel shaped like a whale - - we'll have to ask when we get to Heaven. 

Another fine fish story in the Bible is the one where Jesus tells the bad guys that He does in fact give to Caesar that which is Caesar's and that you should give to God that which is God's.  The Pharisees came up to Jesus claiming He was telling his followers to disobey Caesar and not to pay taxes properly. Jesus thought about it for a second and probably smiled before He sent someone to the lake (just over there) and told them to pick up the first fish -- I wonder if they noodled to get that done.  The fish was already prepared! The fish had at some point, and we don't know at what point, had swallowed a simple coin, but the coin was dropped in the water at some past point, and the fish was curious about it and tried to eat it only to find out that it wouldn't go down his throat - - it was stuck in his mouth. I say "his" but it could have been a girl fish; we don't know. We do know that Jesus KNEW the fish! He knew the EXACT fish to send directly to the disciple He had sent to the water to fetch the first fish found. This was the first fish found - - and in that fish's mouth was a coin, a certain coin, a coin that was large enough or valued enough to pay all of the tax Jesus owed or may have owed. HOW DID JESUS KNOW?   

Here's the point I like to make when I tell people about Jesus and all He's done for me; just relax and let Him have every last care you may think you have. He prepared the fish! He prepared the guy or gal that dropped the coin in the first place! He KNEW it was going to happen, when it was going to happen, that it was going to happen, and then He knew the Pharisees would come up asking about taxes, and He knew He could send a random disciple to the lake to pick up the first fish he found! C'mon, Jesus has organizational skills that are literally out of this world. We cannot out think or out do God. Let Him have your every single teeny tiny care -- and obviously the big cares, that goes without saying.   

Whatcha gonna do with all that spare time you have after you stop worrying?  I don't know, go fish I guess!  Wear gloves. 

Ode de'Manure

 OMG...I am not kidding; if someone would be wise enough to create a manure scented candle I would buy it! I say that, and I mean that but it would need to be a horse manure scent, not a cow patty, and it would also have to have either good alfalfa added to the mix and/or some good 14% protein pellet scents as well. I would buy a dozen candles and keep my house smelling like a barn year around. If you think I'm kidding, you don't know me. If you know me, and you think you don't want to come to visit me if my house smells like a barn, I'm pretty sure you and I are not really that close.  I love my barn.

Toby Keith (good Oklahoma boy) wrote a song about loving his bar, but I could write a song (and may just do that now that I'm thinking about it) about loving my barn.  You can't beat a good barn. You can go by yourself, you can take friends and family. You can stay all day, you can hang out for a few hours. I will say this; I don't think I've ever gone to the barn and left only a few minutes after arriving. You really can't do that even if you're just dropping off feed, hay, tack, or meds. You (I) have to go through the barn, visit every last occupied stall, kiss every last horse, pony, donkey, pig, cow, whatever happens, to be in the barn. I have to find the cats, make sure they're fed. I usually try to locate a dog or two; depending on whether the owner's dogs are out or if some other boarder has brought their hounds. You just (I just) can't leave a barn in under an hour - - it's not happening.

Some of the more interesting things that take place at the barn can't really be recorded in writing otherwise we'd all be in trouble, but we can report that we have poop parties where we dig our arms in elbow high once the manure is on the trailer, and we toss around a few pounds of good healthy horse poop. It's sort of like dodge ball, but not really - - I mean, you dodge obviously, and there is screaming involved....lots of screaming usually.  Did I mention we have a really good time at the barn?   Since our barn is open to us 24/7 we've been known to show up in the middle of the night and have a cookout. We've had pajama parties, nothing inappropriate mind you.  We've had Pyrate Nite at the barn, and we'll do that again. There is of course horseback riding going on, but not usually in the middle of the night as the horses are cognitive of what time it is and they give you that "FACE" that lets you know it's not a good time....come back after the roosters crow! Come back AFTER breakfast.

Most of the time the barn is a sanctuary where we can breathe in good hearty air full of rustic wood chips, stinky mounds of poop, horse sweat, grain, and the occasional dead rodent or possum that got stuck between the walls. (This may surprise you, but I do know the distinct difference in the smell(s) of a dead raccoon vs a dead possum.) Most of the time you can count on friends showing up or already being there when you arrive, and there's someone to go riding with. If you don't feel like riding if your horse doesn't feel like being ridden, or if the weather just isn't cooperating, you can still groom the animals, clean the stalls, rake the arena, mend something that somehow came undone, and you can ALWAYS find something that needs attention at a barn...even if it's just the cats. Attention will be paid.

Yeah, give me the barn. Give me the smell. Give me the sweaty back of a rugged stead every day, call it heaven.  Nothing -- and I do mean NOTHING smells like a horse.  Prove me wrong. 

My Edinburgh

 My Edinburgh 

 

She sleeps within my arms at night 

Silent as a picture 

Deeply etched within my mind

  

Her streets, cobbled as they wind 

Her skirts tossed north, south, east, and west 

Dancing parks and laughter 

Rippling motorways and rails 

Thousands stroll her pathways 

She edges over, holds me tight 

Her whispers sear my soul

 

She tells of her past and how  

She’s thought of me from old 

She tells me how she’ll draw me close, how 

She’ll drape my heart, elation 

I lean to kiss her fading face

And realize my ransom 

She, my Edinburgh, my temptress 

She my dream, my muse 

One day we’ll embrace and how 

But now she is aloof 

One day she will be my home 

 

For now, I am her hostage 

Soon I’ll dance within her soul 

My Edinburgh, my essence 

 

Jude Stringfellow    12/31/2020