Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 115
August 23, 2020
A Bit of a Bard
Yeah, yeah, I know....I'm a Grammar Nazi, and there are those, albeit few, who even say I'm rather a "Karen" when it comes to people misquoting quips and idioms. It really is "toe the line" not "tow the line". I don't understand how somethings are so hard to figure out.
I've always been a wordsmith, and to show you what I mean, I have been writing deep deep thought out poetry since I was about 11 years old. Now, mind you, the really sexy stuff didn't come along until I was over 18 probably. I don't think I really even noticed most guys until about 17 and then it was just eye candy and girl-gossip really. I did however, manage to pen a few good tales and make them rhyme either intentionally or by complicated accident. Enjoy this particular piece titled "Symphony of Love". It wasn't written for anyone on particular. I wasn't raging with passion for anyone at the time I wrote it. I do like it though, and some day I may "mewl" again, but for now I just sigh and remember that my fantasies and dreams were so much more interesting than my actual choices.
Symphony of Love
Is my voice a symphony
Do I rage with song
When our hearts are melding
Two becoming one
Are your notes of tenor
Forced with breathless thrust
Are the whisperings of woodwinds
Leaping from my tongue
Quicken heart! Hold time
Surround the sound—silence
Mewl for no one else to hear
My lover’s lips shall thunder
Rage, lift up my very soul
In crescendo—rapture!
Deep inside, harmonious tides
Melodies—captured
Songs for only our ears
Sweet in every note
Panting—exhausted refrain
Music is your stroke
Sing sweet lover to me
Your song a kind surrender
Symphonic pleas, submission
Orchestra in motion
To Fret or Not to Fret
No! DO NOT FRET! There's zero reasons to fret except OK, if you're playing guitar then yes, certainly fret, but that's not the same thing, and it goes without saying (although it appears that I am in fact saying it) fretting or worrying about everything will not help you solve anything. NO FRETTING are we clear?
It's been a few years now since I adopted the hard line approach to "Don't Worry Be Happy". I've changed that moniker up a bit to "Don't Worry Be Joyful" as I strongly believe that being happy is based on an unpredictable emotion, while being joyful is often a laborious choice! (You don't know this, but the Celtic in me wants to add a "u" to words like labourious, flavour, and favourite.) LET IT GO - - no amount of worrying is going to make you happy, but it can give you ulcers, stress you to the point of gaining weight, or having another physical ailment that can lead to permanent damage in your body, mind, and spirit.
OK, easy peasy, ready? Grab a Bible if there's one handy near you, and turn to the Psalms. If you don't have a full Bible, but maybe a small New Testament it will still probably have the Psalms within it. Turn to Psalms 37 and skim it, you don't have to read it or memorize it, but do skim it. The first verse (paraphrased) says "Hey, you, yeah, I'm talking to YOU, do not worry about it." The "IT" in this case is every it, every single it there was back in the day, is today, or will be tomorrow. You have an it, don't let it worry you. IT belongs to God, HE is the one saying to you DO NOT FRET. Carry on, read a bit further, no chapter is just one verse. The third verse of Psalms 37 reads in part, (and also paraphrasing, since I can't possibly know which translation you have in your hands), TRUST GOD. let go of it and JUST TRUST GOD with it. Don't think about it again, don't bring it back up tomorrow, trust God and Him alone, that He will in fact settle the matter. Here is why; are you ready? Verses 4 and 5 say He will. It literally says if you delight yourself in God, if you commit yourself to Him, HE (not you) will bring it to pass. He, NOT YOU, will make it happen. Now, get a pretty colored pencil or pen and make a wee picture for your corkboard so you can remember this. Draw hearts and shooting stars around the border, pin the note to the corkboard and remind yourself EVERY SINGLE DAY to not not not fret. You can't. If you think about it fretting is a sin. Sin is bad. Fret not.
When I decided to live my life this way you wouldn't believe all the crap that Satan tried to throw my way. Job after job was lost for this reason or that. I was a teacher, and it just seemed every semester there was someone in administration wanting me terminated. Month after month I was brought up for review and called in for questioning. I was lied about by teachers, other staffers, parents, even kids sometimes and year after year I was either suspended for something I didn't do and had to prove it wasn't true, or I was actually terminated and had to force the district into a hearing to prove I was not doing what I was being accused of. (Most of the time I was called a racist for failing a kid who chose not to work, but there were other issues such as swearing at a child, calling a kid stupid, or something similar.) The allegations were always fabricated, but having to defend one's reputation over and over again can be daunting. How do you fix that? You don't. You let God fix that, and if you follow the recipe set out in Psalms 37 you'll come out on the right and best side EVERY time.
God never said that being a Christian would be an easy thing to do. In fact, you may remember that several of Jesus' followers were either beheaded, crucified, or in John's case, stuck in a pot of oil and then exiled for the rest of his life. Daniel found himself staring down a pack of large cats. Jonah got swallowed by a big fish, and look at poor NOAH. C'mon, show a little love for the original animal rescuer, will ya? Do you think for a MINUTE that Noah fretted? Yes, he did, it's actually written that he did, but the point is, God said NOT TO. In Noah's defense, Psalms was actually written way after the flood. But in every case throughout God's word, if you don't mind reading it for yourself, God wins. God takes care of every single detail whether we fret or not because that's what He does. So if God is going to take care of the details whether we worry about the details, doesn't it make sense (and I mean a whole lotta sense) to just not get your panties in a twist, and LET GO to LET GOD have IT?
So, in summary fret when you pick strings, otherwise...don't.
I Raised Her Both Correctly and Right.
Oh, Laura, Laura, Laura! It's been so long since I wrote an individual blog about this kid. Can I still call her a kid if she's north of 30 years old? I think so; like everyone else in this family, Laura doesn't look or act her age so we're good. I'm about 30 myself if truth was told. Laura, who can't drink alcohol and probably really wouldn't be much of a strong drinker if she could, is always carded if she walks into a liquor store. She hasn't been 18 in over 13 years at this point, but she looks like a bubbly bouncy babe with her next to ginger looks and that flash of a toothy grin that no one is quite sure if she's being seriously mischievous or just really tart.
I raised this one with the other two, and like the other two, she's apt to be just like her mom and tell you exactly what's on her mind! She won't hold back and God help you if you cross her. We're Stringfellows, we tend to be a bit vocal about most things. Unlike the other two, Laura was born in the middle of the brood. Reuben claims the eldest while wee Caity claims the favored baby slot. Poor middle child Laura, can't you just hear her complaining now about it? She was never ever ever loved as much as the others and you know she had to work so much harder, longer, stronger, bigger, better, and with loads more courage than the others without a shred of appreciation. God bless, I'm so glad she's not a teen again, I really couldn't take much more of it now!
Laura decided a few years back to be my roommate. It wasn't as if I needed one, but rather she felt it was the best decision to both save money and have a riding mate at all times. In her mind, if she was living in my house she could benefit from having me cook (because I do) and she wouldn't be expected to do the dishes, having traded that chore for permanent trash taker-outter, as well as permanent cat litter scooper. It's her fault that we have 3 cats living with us currently. Left to her we'd have rescued baby geese, squirrels, geckos and other woodland wild life on a daily basis. Owning dogs, cats,and horses is truly enough! (ENOUGH ALREADY LAURA, NO, the skunk's mother is probably looking for him. PUT HIM BACK!)
Being a Taurus, Laura will never change her duties at home but the good thing is, because she's a Taurus, I know at any minute of any day exactly where she is, what she's doing. I can assume she'll be in the exact same spot tomorrow too because Tauruses just DO NOT CHANGE easily. It was hard enough to convince her that she really really can go to another restaurant now and again; it's OK to try new food SOME TIMES. Besides being slightly unmoving regarding likes and tastes in take out, Tauruses also tend to be predictable, easy going and once they make a decision that's the decision we all have to work with for eternity.
On a fun note, with her streamer/gaming mind, brilliant voice, charm and wit, Laura has become an international fan favorite to a few thousand people on various online gaming platforms. She uses VR (virtual reality) to interact in "rooms" and has "owned" her on faction, leading battles and what not way up into the middle of the night most of the time. I hear her cackling, even screaming at times in sheer laughter over some of the most incredibly strange events that no amount of explanation to me will suffice. There is just no way I will understand Second Life gaming and whatever they call it now when you turn your characters into other characters to troll and stalk your friends and enemies for the sole purpose of catching each other in vulnerable situations. I'm told on nearly a daily basis how I wouldn't understand, and because I'm not really sure I want to understand, I just let it go. I don't believe many of the thousands who follow and play with her actually know of her incredible singing talents. Laura has sung locally of course, but nationally, and internationally. She's created over 600 videos with duets including famous singers, not-so famous singers, and of course her own solo works. When people ask me who my favorite singer(s) is I usually say my own daughter. I'm not lying, she's amazing.
Being a mom, friend, and roommate to Laura means I am placed in situations where I've had to lie to bosses about her not showing up for work, I've bailed her out of scrapes and scruffs, but whether I lived with her or not I'd be doing that. I mentioned Laura can't drink alcohol. A few years back she was bucked off her horse and she hit the ground pretty hard. A shake when up her spine, forever curving it just enough to affect the central nervous system. She now becomes dehydrated easier than most of us, and alcohol actually dries you out, it doesn't replenish you with hydration. She can't drink even a little without shriveling up, tingling and cramping to the point of being hospitalized rather quickly. No party or social gathering would be worth that experience again. To compensate for not being able to be the loud party girl she never wanted to be, Laura is the forever friend to too many at once online. I never know what's going on in that room of hers, but there are dozens of voices coming out of her talented head. Disney characters, Pokemon, Harry Potter favorites, she's a ball of laughs and I do sometimes wish I could be in on one of the rooms to hear the reactions of the others who beckon her to be "Stitch" and then "Ariel" or Glenda the Good Witch. (Side Note: She'll never beat me at voicing the Wicked Witch of the West. I could never hold a candle to her singing, but the WITCH IS MINE! BACK OFF!) LOL.
Laura's room is not always the room of an older more adult person, that's for sure. If she were judged by the appearance of the room itself she'd be somewhere between "I DON'T CARE MOM, LEAVE ME ALONE" and "It doesn't matter, no one comes up here anyway". I was smart and got Laura into horses when she was only a girl, and it's been a great replacement item for men. She won't date anyone without a farrier or vet reference. Anyone thinking about or assuming they can date Laura will have to take 2nd place to a 1200 pound gelding with a very kind eye. Any man who says "But Laura, you haven't spent time with me, you've been at the barn four times this week", will be met with "FOUR? It's Thursday, it should have been FIVE!" Having horses can actually be a really good thing. It weeds out the would be suitors for sure. If any man really truly wanted to sweep Laura off her feet he'd have to tie Leo up first, or catch her before she goes to the pasture to retrieve him.
One last note about my mournful, soulful, ever companioned middle child; Laura can be pretty tough to convince to change her mind about something, but she also won't ever quit on a friend, having that Stringfellow built in defense mechanism allowing her to champion her inner Super Hero instantaneously! I'm not saying she wears a cape (anymore) but she would if the cosplay required it. She won't allow herself to hate anyone even if they've burned her in the past. She forgives. She may not forget, but she does forgive. (Who am I kidding, she's a freaking Taurus, she doesn't forget, but she does forgive and that's a good thing. A very good thing.)
Yes, I raised this one right on the political side of things and on the spiritual side as well. Born again, and waiting on Jesus to return, He and I both know where she'll be when that day and moment comes. She'll be strapped to her VR gizmo, dancing, laughing, singing in someone beloved character's voice about whatever the chat is about at that moment. She may never wash a dish, but she's a giver not a taker - - and that's good enough for me.
August 22, 2020
New Plan: Dance My Ass Off. LITERALLY!
What do 1979 and 2021 have in common? Well, I can't say yet, but in 1979 I was at my tip top shape and I'm gunning for something closer to it. No, I don't think I'll ever be a size 4 again, that's not possible but I can get the rest of me into the shape I'm meant to be and not this shape - whatever it is. I'll tell you this, it's not so bad that I can't still dance. I proved that to both myself and my daughter today as I twirled this mass around and round, twisting, bending, flowing, mimicking my youthful self. I thought my daughter's eyes would pop out. I was in the living room, she in her room, there was no reason for her to freak out like she did, but it was fun to watch. Leaning back in her computer chair, forcing herself to stay balanced as she leaned further and further to see what I was up to -- she nearly fell to the ground. "MOM!", she shouted from under her headsets. She stood quickly, and abruptly closed her bedroom door. I wore my own earbuds with The Best of Bread blaring, but I could still hear the woman laughing with hysterics in her room trying to explain to her online cohorts what on EARTH her mum was doing in the family room - - I mean, I wouldn't want to see the video, but some day I will. I will that again. I will.
The main differences between the Jude of 1979 and the Jude of 2020 is that 17 year old Jude wasn't afraid to be seen dancing. Dance! Dance! Dance! I woke up dancing, I would eat while I danced around the kitchen, I even brushed my hair dancing. When I didn't want to ride the bus I really did walk over two miles to school but most of the time I was skipping, dancing, moving along the roads and jumping over little fences, limbs or what I could to keep the muscles moving. Keep in mind, 1979 was WAY before walkmans, Mp3s or portable specific music. We had the RADIO people, we had the RADIO!! FM baby!
By the time I got to school I had my work out, but that didn't stop me from dancing up the stairs to get to class, or down the stairs to my locker, or out in the courtyard to get to the Library a bit faster than taking the halls. The Library...oh, books!! Yes, you know you're really talented when you can walk/dance home, read a book and tune to the latest tunes from Bee Gees, Billy Joel, Beach Boys, Fleetwood Mac, Kansas, and of course, of course, Journey. Wait...you say, "What about Van Halen?" Well, I really wasn't a VH fan until after 1983 and I went out with Alex a couple of times.
That's an entirely different blog -- maybe. 
Dancing is the answer. I may not be able to lose this fluff by dieting and suffering through the sugar withdraws from choosing to put the bread down but I can sure as heck dance. I don't ask permission, I never have. I don't remember ever asking mom or dad, "Hey do you mind very much if I just interrupt your life, your show, your date, your coffee, while I dance?" Nope, they just moved out of my way. I was about 118 pounds when I graduated from high school that late May afternoon. I wore jeans the size of a a thimble with really really long legs attached. I won't be able to do backflips again, not until I'm in Heaven, those moments are capped, but dancing...I can dance. Expressive, slow, fast, abstract, and I may just be crazy enough to try and make myself laugh by doing a precisely placed "robot" move. Who knows? I've made up my mind. This mind. This ENTJ, Scorpio-born, Year of the Ox mind. MY MIND, the place I can truly call my own. I will dance my ass off as well as my stomach, thighs, arms, breasts, belly, guy you name it, if it's fat it is coming off. Bet.
2020 I HAVE TO DO THIS.
EVERYONE and yes, I do mean EVERYONE is so upset about 2020! They constantly complain, make comments and talk about how they wish 2021 would hurry up and get here, they're so ready to throw out the "clear vision" year 2020. I am at least sympathetic to most of their reasons behind wanting to move forward, but at the same time, I am thinking we must have learned something these past 8 months. Surely, we can't throw it all out willie-nillie without having been taught a lesson or two. Let's review.
January 2020: I had been released from my teaching job where I taught 6 graders how to read better and to pull apart sections of what they were reading in order to analyze it. Why was I released you ask? Oh, thank you for asking, because I really do want you to know. I taught the kids Bloom's Taxonomy, a form of learning where you literally rethink virtually every sentence, line, paragraph, example, sample, or thought. You first look at it, describing it, then you add to, take away, pull it apart, put it back together, ask yourself boundary questions about it (who, what, when, where, why, how) and you finally stand back and ask if the way you've reviewed the subject is in fact better than it was before you thought it over. Easy peasy, right? Well, the other teachers at the school became irritated when the students I shared with them would ask them "Which level do I analyze this particular passage?" The teachers didn't really appreciate having to be forced to TEACH so I was asked to leave. So, in essence, my 2020 started in December 2019 just before Christmas break. In January 2020 however, I did receive the full compensation for the entire year that was my contracted time. That was nice. It meant I didn't have to go back to work until the end of Summer. The year started out rather nice, I think.
February 2020: I had actually contracted what we know now is COVID 19, back in November 2019, and in February my lungs finally became stronger, healing to the point that I no longer had to use my inhaler or drink down a bottle of non-drowsy cough syrup just to talk to people on the phone. Can I say it was the most annoying lingering cough I had ever had? I just said it. It was the most annoying lingering cough I have ever had!
March 2020: March 4 Laura and joined a fitness gym and we went a few times, until March 12 when it closed down due to COVID-19. That same week my sister had Messaged me on Facebook to say the world was basically ending and I needed to buy as much toilet paper as possible. Things would become very bleak very soon. I laughed, but I did make my way to the stores to gather my fair share of what was available, making the decision to only buy one package of toilet paper at every store I visited so as not to seem the great hoarder of all things personal hygiene.
April 2020: My son and his wife celebrated their one year anniversary locked down in their new house. Laura and I were both at home, me just living off the contract money and unemployment since I qualified for it, and she working from home remotely. President Trump decided we should all receive $1200 in what is called a STIMULUS check, and those of us who are unemployed were paid $600 a WEEK more than what we received on government subsidy. I'm not lying, I made over $1100 a week sitting on my butt reading books, studying prophecy online, and listening to Celtic music and my good pastor Charlie Garrett of The Superior Word. So far 2020 had not really been that disappointing to me.
May 2020: I bought a horse with my stimulus check, just trying to keep the economy going, and he was (is) a fantabulus steed. I recently sold him due to an on going knee injury/problem, but Casper was an amazing friend and I couldn't have enjoyed my spring and early summer more. Days off, riding horses, reading, studying, eating less due to the fact that we couldn't go into a store without a mask and I don't do masks. I was smart and bought enough food to last through the summer basically.
June, July, and August 2020 will all be rolled into one. Months of relaxing, riding, reading, cooking, studying, sleeping in, staying up, bantering and listening to others discuss prophecy online. I engage in about four different church services a week now, but with Charlie Garrett being the one I call "MY PASTOR". Charlie has his prophecy update, the sermon, and a Thursday afternoon bible study. I rather hate having to go back into the working world now, leaving my dogs, cats, books, and CDs at home.
Bottom line for me is that I really haven't had a bad 2020. So what if we've been locked down, made to feel like we need to stay six feet away all the time. I wasn't married, dating, planning on dating, thinking about it or even socializing. Horses and dogs don't give a damn if you get within six feet of them, and not one cat complained that I sneezed or coughed in their faces. I washed my hands a bit more I suppose, took a second to think before I touch my face, but other than that the world hasn't changed much at all for me. We have a city mandate to wear masks in public, but I have my inhaler and just protest a bit claiming to have asthma, which in it's truest form is true, I have a wee bit of asthma. I wear a face shield now and again, but I won't wear masks. They don't work. It even says so on the box. LOL
Bring on the FALL....bring on Autumn! I am so ready for pumpkins, sweaters, cooler weather, and the election! I'm a Trump supporter, so I feel that it will be a landslide victory for the 45th president's 2nd term, and I do believe that if it is not the Democrats are cheating their way into the office. We won't tolerate it. We are one. We are a silent and not so silent majority. We are Q, and Where We Go One We Go All.
I won't miss 2020, but I'm not all that eager to throw it to the wind either.
August 21, 2020
Steph Macleod (of Scotland)
So, you know how you go about your business, and then your eyes find something or your ears find something that you just can't stop watching or listening to, or both? There I was, about a year ago I guess, just minding my own business because that's what I do, I mind my own business. I was listening to Celtic music on YouTube, rolling around the choices, picking this one then that one. I found a guy. People say "I gotta guy" whenever you need something, or they think you may need something. Well, I gotta guy for you. His name is Steph Macleod and he lives near Edinburgh, Scotland. You can look him up pretty easily, but I'll go ahead and leave a link too. (https://stephmacleod.com/) That was pretty easy now, wasn't it?
Steph is one of those people you see first and say either out loud or to yourself, "There's a handsome man." I mean, he's not nearly as handsome as my son Reuben of course, there's really no getting around that, but he's cutie that's for sure. You can go look, but sorry ladies, he's a married man. No doubt his beautiful wife Jane has helped him with both recovery and restoration. Steph is certainly worth the listen. (Go ahead and listen two or three times)
OK, yeah, I'm going to have to be flat out honest with you now and say I first listened to him because he was Scottish, his accent will haunt you for a minute and you'll have to have more. He's a good solid Christian man, but it wasn't always that way. One of the things I did after listening to him was to go over all of the information I could find about him because in his voice you just know there's a backstory. No one sings that conflicted and compelling without having gone through life a little first. I found a sight on YouTube where Steph gave his testimony and I had to look twice to be sure I had found the right guy! The 2011 Steph looks NOTHING like the 2020 bulked up bearded man singing his soul out to Jesus. His words (of course his voice) was truly heart breaking; such a rough stint, it just didn't seem fair to me that there are kids literally like Steph, who were laying in the streets sick, drunk, hurt, lost, without anyone to pick them up and tell them Jesus really really is the answer and that they don't have to go through torment like they do.
Most people just don't realize that we really do, as the song says, forfeit years of pain and suffering because we don't bring ourselves and our issues to Christ first. Where is it written that we need to go through hell to get to Heaven? It's not! The madness needs to stop! Jesus literally came from Heaven to Earth to show us His way, to guide us, and give us back the promises we threw away so easily when we follow sin. It never ever works out, and the only way to truly (and freely) live is to give every single tiny itty bitty problem to Jesus, and just walk away from it allowing HIM to take the reins in your life, in your heart, in your soul. I have my own story of course; one I no longer like to even bring up because the truth is, Jesus paid all of my old stinking debt from life - - I'm new again, and I like it that way.
Steph gets that. He writes it. He sings it. He breaths it. You'll like what you see, you'll like what you hear. Share if you feel led, but do yourself a favor and just let his words touch you.
July 16, 2019
Rescuing Horses
Currently, I'm assisting a good friend of mine to help restore a horse to his original glorious and fantabulous shape and body score. He's an ex-racehorse, and by that I mean literally he was racing one day and the same day he lost what would be his last race, he was thrown out to a kill buyer who was waiting for horses like him right there on the track. This horse, the one I'll call Callan, is a four-year-old Appendix horse out of Florida. For those of you who may not know what an Appendix horse is, it is a horse that is bred to race specifically from a racing Thoroughbred and a racing Quarter Horse. I thought perhaps it was just the breeding, but after speaking to the folks at the Jockey Club I was corrected. Quarter Horses actually run faster than Thoroughbreds, and they are a bit thicker, and they tend to have somewhat shorter backs and legs, making it easier to turn. Thoroughbreds tend to speed up in the stretch and make up the time on the long, while Quarter Horses are apt to be good at turning and making the cut in and out of other racers. It's a good plan, right? Not always. Animals who don't consistently win are often thrown away, given away, or put down.
Callan's story began in Florida where he was racing. We can only surmise at this point, as we don't yet know his registered Jockey Club name or number. Working from the story I received from the lady who is caring for him, and the information on the lots number tags stuck to his backside from the lots he's been traded to, as well as the recorded medical Coggins report that was pulled in Florida the day he was sold to the kill buyer, I have deducted that Callan was racing on or around May 28, 2019. He must have lost that race, or didn't finish high enough to make his owners happy, as he was sold to a man named Jack Darling in Williston, FL who is known for being both a kill buyer, and he's been in trouble for literally altering the tattoo information inside the horse's lip. I can't tell yet if Callan has an altered lip tattoo, as he won't let us near his mouth yet. It could be that he has been hurt, and he won't fall for it a second time. Jack Darling took Callan to Dr. Billy Hendrix of Levy Animal Clinic on May 29, 2019. He had his blood drawn for the Coggins report, and his name was listed as "Spidey" owing to the fact that he is a Rabicano roan Sorrell with spider-webbing type roan patterns on his hips. The test proved to be negative.
Because a horse's Coggins takes about 3-4 days before it's back from the laboratory, we can deduce that Callan was not sold or shipped to his next destination until about June 2 or 3. He has two sticky butt tags, one of which is a Texas-registered tag with the number 501. He received it when he arrived at the Lonestar Kill Pen in Justin, Texas, just west of I-35 and north of Dallas. On this lot, for some reason, and we don't know why, he was left unsold and not claimed for about 40 days, or he was transferred to a hub during this time where he may have been unkept and allowed to fight for whatever food was available. You can't know who runs these hubs, how many horses they corral, and what type of hay they feed. You can be damn sure they don't offer grain, and they don't give enough. Callen, a normally 1150-1200 pound horse is now standing at 15.3H tall and about 800 pounds or less. He is a literal bag of bones with just enough meat to give us hope that he will survive. His ribs are all showing, his hips are past the point of protruding, he's in bad shape.
After the hub and/or pen, he was rescued by a group of ladies who find it their calling to help as many as they can. My friend was given permission to either pick him up or have him picked up and delivered to her place. He was delivered on July 11th and I saw him for the first time on Sunday, July 14, 2019. I tried to walk away as I knew I was on a tight tight budget this summer, but I couldn't, and I knew I would not be able to do so. I told my friend I will help her all I can, and I will either find others who can help, or I'll get a temporary job for the last 4 weeks I have left before school starts up, to be able to help her recover this gelding. He spoke to me, and when they speak to you, you don't really have an option. She has others on her property that also need help, but Callan reached me the second I saw him. He allowed me to pet him, groom him, and give him a treat, but mostly he just wanted me to hand him the hay so he didn't have to reach down for it. He wanted me to stay, to pet him and tell him he was going to be OK. I prayed over him in Jesus' precious name, and KNOW he is going to make a full and wonderful recovery. I named him Callan as it means "Battle", and he certainly has been through one, and has another to muster.
As his body score is currently between 1 and 2 I don't want to post his photos. I will do so in a subsequent post when he has fully gained his weight and I can show you the before and after photos; the before he was loved and after he was surrendered to Jesus to bring back to life. I can't imagine the hard times he has gone through. He's probably never been actually loved. He was bred to run, sold and trained. He was forced to perform, probably drugged to perform, and then when he couldn't beat another horse or two, he was left to the kill buyer's mercy. Apparently, the buyer thought he could get a little money for him, so he sold him to the lot, who make more money off of him, and he was sold to the rescuers. I will, of course, give a donation to help them continue their quest to help as many as they possibly can. Callan will from July 11, 2019, when he arrived at my friend's house, know love. He will never not be loved again. (I know, poor grammar...I get it.) When Callan survives, and he will, I will take him home with me.
When you see a horse race and you cheer from the stands or from where you're watching, do you think about the one who came in last? Do you think about the one that came in next to last too often? Well, maybe people should start to think about them more often. There are no roses for the losers most of the time.
Matcha!
Well, I'm no longer teaching at the school I was teaching at, and to be honest, I thought about not going back into teaching after having come out of the school alive! It was without a doubt, the worst experience possible. I was teaching 9th grade English at an innercity school district that didn't have an ounce of integrity. The kids were bad enough, but they are in fact only kids. The administration and the superintendent were as corrupt as they come! The entire experience, since literally day 1, was an uphill battle that left me heavier than I was when I started, and without as much energy. I'm a very high energy gal, so that wasn't a good thing for me. The extra pounds was absolutely not welcomed.
Because I could see that I was gaining weight and having other stress-related issues such as daily diarrhea and the onset of mental depression, I had to get out of that place fast. I was under a contract so leaving wasn't an option. I began walking in my classroom, literally pacing to get 3 miles of steps in each day. Sure, the kids thought I was crazy, but they needed me flitting about anyway from second to second, keeping them from cheating, Facebooking, texting, lying, and worse. It was an on the feet, hour in and hour out job just to keep them from failing my class. I still ended up failing 1/4 of the class(es) but that's another story.
It's mid-July now, and I have decided to take charge of the two things I can control; my food and/or calorie intake, and my exercise program. I haven't been stressed since about June 1st, my last day of school was May 22nd officially, but I was suspended on May 9 for something I didn't do. Turns out it was so that I would not report what the administration was doing. I reported it anyway, not to the superintendent, but to the state of Oklahoma and to my union representative. I waited with bated breath until June 28 when I was paid my final check. The entire time I kept thinking they'll find a way to keep my money from me, but in the end, the school was obligated to pay me. We were paid for June and July 2018 in two separate checks and that money literally has to last me until I'm paid September 25 by the new district. Can I do it? You bet I can! I've learned to live with so little for so long that nothing is difficult now. Jesus is awesome like that.
So, back to the topic at hand! I decided to lose the belly fat that I've picked up over the past several years, but was unable to force it to come off due to stress. I'm doing a mostly Keto diet, more fat, less carbs, very little sugar. I'm not t-totaling it, and I'm counting carbs. I'm just being mindful. I've added Matcha tea to the mix since I don't mind the taste of grass, and I feel that the research I've done on it is valid. Matcha tea is supposedly much stronger, some say 130x stronger than regular green tea in terms of antioxidants. It is caffeinated so I do have to watch that and be mindful of when I drink it. Matcha tea is supposed to do wonders for boosting metabolism and burning fat. I'll see if it works. I remember and recall the GREEN phase that everyone and their dogs were using for smoothies and swearing that they worked on both metabolism and belly fat, well, turns out they were using either kale powder or Matcha tea powder. Both are readily available at any health food store, and about the same cost. I may have to switch to kale if the caffeine is the cause for the boost. I really don't need to overload on that. I'm down to one cup of coffee in the a.m. now. I do try to sleep at night.
I measured my gut today which is something I've not done in years. It was FAR worse than what I had hoped for. You see yourself in your mind, and you think you're one size, then you measure or step on a scale and figure out you were only kidding yourself. I know the number that popped up on the measuring tape is only that, a number, but it's a number I don't wish to associate with my gut size. I'm hoping to reduce it by 14 inches. Dang....just saying that means I'm fat. Oh well, I'm fat. I fit into jeans that I've owned for a long time, and that's OK for now, but I want to get into new jeans that I've not dreamed of wearing for many years. It can happen. I can do this. I really can. Because I'm now eating so much better than I was, I have caught myself at the store just passing by the aisles that have fatty foods, sugary foods, starchy foods....I just walk by. I don't hate them, but they are not needed any longer, sort of like training wheels on a bike. I'm a BIG GIRL now, and can't eat that stuff.
I weigh about 185 now, which is literally where I was last year when I said I wanted to lose weight. I don't blame the school district, the kids, the adminstration, the work. I blame myself. I wasn't putting the energy into the cure. This year it will be so much better in so many ways. I'll do a weekly update here to see how I'm doing. I won't say what the belly size number is, but I will tell you what I lose each week if I lose anything. For now, it's Matcha powder in my smoothie and one cup of Matcha tea; literally pouring hot water over a 1/2 teaspoon of the powder. We'll see how it works.
October 8, 2018
Red, White, and Blue -- EVERY DAMN DAY
One of the best things about being the daughter of an American hero is that when I grew up and had a son of my own, having named him after my father, I watched my son grow into the fantastic military man that he is today. I gave birth to my victorious protector after being able to be his for the first 18 years of his life. He's paid it back in spades. Protected, loved, honored, given to bragging just a little bit, this Patriot is never going to let anyone put a mark on me without that person being worn the worse for trying. I may lose a job, I may not be accepted into the club, or allowed to hang with the cool kids for what I say and what I believe, but you'll sure as hell know where you stand with me. You'll never have to worry about it, I'll flat out let you know. Just ask. If you dare. Besides, I have a few good attorneys who feel the same way I do about the way people treat other people.
Now, having said that, welcome to my blog. I hope you find it to be both entertaining and enlightening. You'll find out more about me, and you'll either respect me or you won't. You have to understand, I don't give a damn what you think. I'm the only me I could ever be, and I've been me for far too long to be anyone else. My kids love me. My mom loves me. My daddy loves me, and watches over me from his place in Heaven. My dog loves me, and if nothing else ever happens to me in this life, I've been loved by more dogs than most people have ever known. I am born again, a child of the Living God, and having been born in the GREAT STATE of OKLAHOMA, I am Sooner born and Sooner bred, when I die, I'll be Sooner dead. There's not a lot anyone can do to upset me, but there are things they can do to piss me off. Getting back to my upbringing for a second, my mom taught me that if I couldn't say something nice about someone I wasn't to say anything at all. Well, sorry Mom, Daddy taught me to say what I am going to say, and leave it at that. My yes is my yes, and my no is my no.
If you're my friend you'll be my friend for the rest of my life. I will defend you, and everything you do. If you screw up I'll let you know, but I will never throw you under the bus. If you've chosen another path, and you don't want to be my friend, I won't stop you. I am who I am, and I'm damn good at it. You'd be lucky to call yourself my friend. It's a very selective group of people to be a part of. I hope you have yourself a good day now, and I hope you understand that when you step on me I bite back. What's that Toby Keith says? "We'll put a boot up your ass, it's the American way"...that about covers it. Army strong!
September 29, 2018
Ava, My Sweet Horse.
Laura had me looking at the horses for another reason, other than just to show me how pretty they were, or how healthy some were. There are some that are being sold that have fund raisers going on, where outsiders online will donate funds toward the "bail" of a horse, and then if the kill lot receives a "home" offer from someone who is willing to pay a full half of the needed bail, the fund raisers money goes in with the home offer, and the horse(s) finds itself home, safe and sound. This was the reason Laura asked me to look at one horse in particular. Her name was Mora she was a Missouri Foxtrotter, about 9 years old, dun in color, and she had a baby on her side. She wasn't just any ol' baby, the baby was a mule! She had a little Jenny Filly on her side, that the fund raisers were calling Molly. They were such an attractive pair, both gaiting in step while a young boy rode the mother mare hap-hazard around the muddy arena online.
"She's only $410 mom, she's gaited, a good age, and look, you'd get a little baby mule with her!" A little baby mule? Hardly. The mule was about ten months old and darn near as tall as her mother, who was just under 15 hands. Laura was right about one thing, with this horse having a fund raiser going for her all I would need to pay for the pair was half the bail, which at $410 is a steal for a broke to ride gaited Missouri Foxtrotter, not to mention a gaited filly mule I could sell for twice that amount even before she was trained to ride or drive. I said OK, it's a deal, and I made a call. It was agreed that I would become the home offer for Molly and Mora. The following day I paid the remainder of the bail, and there you have it, I owned a new horse and a mule baby! LOL...that was easy. PayPal is a wonderful thing.
As you can imagine, most animals coming out of kill lots are not all that healthy, and not all of them are broke. This pair was exceptional, and I knew there would be hurdles to jump for sure. First thing, I needed to convince my friend Angie to pick the pair up with her rig and truck, and to keep them at her place for at least a month while they sat separated from other horses. Horses from kill lots can bring sickness to new barns; something like strangles or EPM could go through a barn like wild fire and harm any and every equine in the place. It could be expensive, time consuming, and even deadly. Angie has a place between Stroud and Oklahoma City, a 260 acre farm where she keeps and rehabs several equine for the Remington Park horse track. She has her personal animals on the farm as well. Keeping my new girls separated wasn't a difficult task, but it did take a bit of planning and work on Angie's part, for which I am very thankful.
The conversation went something like this: "Hey, Angie, do you want a mule baby?" At first all I heard on the other end of the phone was silence, then a resounding "YES!! What do you have in mind? When?" That was easy! "OK, so I bought a pair of kill lot specialties today, a mother mare, a Foxtrotter, and her baby mule filly. You can have the filly if you pick them both up and let me keep my mare at your place for a month or so." I waited for a response...it came rather fast. "OK! YES! WHEN!" I told her anytime, I just paid for them to be bailed....maybe in a day? Would that work, I asked. It worked, and she was off to the kill pen the very next morning with bells on!!
I had already decided I wasn't and couldn't name the horse Mora, it didn't suit her. I liked the name Ava, and Angie liked the name Georgia for her new little (big) mule baby. When they arrived both were skinnier than they had appeared online, it had been an older video I think. They were certainly under weight and sad from stress and sickness. It's taken Angie and I (and my daughter Laura) a good month now to get them fatter, dewormed, clear from a bout of strangles, which can be described as snotty nose, throat, and eye discharging, leading to lesions that open up on the throat and under the neck to drain. It's disgusting and can be deadly if not cared for immediately. Georgia had it the worse, being a baby, but my sweet Ava was affected as well.
From the very first moment she arrived at the farm I knew she would be an amazing friend. She had no issues with me loving and rubbing all over her. She enjoyed being handled, loved, and groomed. I was even able to spray her with water, lessen her fever a bit, and help her with her healing through prayer and singing to her. When a horse has strangles you can't give them antibiotics, it could kill them. The disease is an odd one for sure. Angie was taxed with daily feeding, watering, giving of herbs, prayers and love. Georgia took to Angie like no other. It's obvious these two love us both, and we're tickled pink to be their moms.
In about another month I'll take Ava from Georgia, and move her to a barn much closer to my house, but we'll ride often as we can together after Georgia is trained in a year or so; it won't be that hard to wait. By that time Georgia will probably be 15.2 or taller, and out weigh her mother by 200 pounds.
As the weeks go by I'll keep you posted on all of the good news about them. They are truly gifts from God, and we couldn't feel more blessed.
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