Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 29

Waxing a bit Nostalgic.

 I just watched a YouTube video showcasing the differences between the kids born and raised in the 60s and 70s and those who were born in the mid-2000s (Gen Z basically). The whole video had me laughing, shaking my head, agreeing with the guy narrating the thing, and saying "Yes!" or "You're damn right" on most of it. 

    Times were different. We went to church. We walked to school with or without our friends (my first-grade teacher lived across the street, so yeah, I made it to class on time. She walked me from Kindergarten to fifth grade every single day! She carried a Winchester rifle too, and yes, we shot game hens and rabbits on the way to and from school. Not lying.) Mrs. Earp's husband was related to THE Earps. She was rough and tough to boot.

    As kids, we didn't try to get in trouble. We were quite aware that if we got in trouble at school we got in more trouble at home. At the parent-teacher conference, the kids sat out in the hall and we were told to stay quiet. If my parents had come out of the room and I wasn't sitting right where they left me I would not be able to sit down for two Sundays in a row. It was that way.  My teachers never lied. They didn't give me any grade I didn't deserve, and they never made excuses for me either. Ethics were a thing in our day.

    Some of the more dangerous things we did as kids have been talked about and demonstrated in so many YouTube and TikTok videos. We slid down hot galvanized steel slides that were banked on concrete and had rivets sticking out where the rails were connected. We scalded ourselves, fell off, and scraped our knees, hands, heads, and elbows. We got over it. We used the water from a garden hose to wash off, and if we were thirsty we drank from it.  We rode in cars without seat belts, with our parents smoking in the car, and maybe - - just maybe one of them would roll the window down an inch or so to let the smoke out, but not in the summer; they couldn't afford to let the cool air out.

    We became spit-friends and blood-brothers, even if we were girls. We cut our hands or fingers and mushed them together swearing our oaths to remain besties forever. I think I am still keeping that promise with Jeannie  -- so they did actually work. We were given pocket knives around the age of six or seven, and guns around the age of nine or ten. We were taught to use both. I think my dad taught me that I could kill, gut, and skin a fish or a squirrel with my knife - - and he may have mentioned that if a boy tried to kiss me I could do the same to him.

    We tried out for sports and for cheerleading. We weren't accepted just because we showed up. We had to keep our grades above a B, not a C...and if we dared to show our faces with a C on our report cards we had to do the dishes and take out the trash all the way through the next nine weeks until the next reports came back with better grades. It just was the way that it was. 

    We played "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" with a stick pin that was run through a ribbon. We were spun around in circles a dozen times and set loose to try and find the paper with the donkey on it, and we were blindfolded. There is no end to what could have happened and most likely did. We snuck drinks from our dad's beers and finished off mom's coffee at tender ages. We were swimming in lakes, ponds, and creeks with the fish, turtles, gars, and whatever else decided to show up. I remember tossing a snake at my sister when it swam in front of me.

    There were trees to climb and I'm not talking about lower branches. If you were caught sitting on a lower branch you better have a book in your hands; otherwise, you called a chicken. We threw dirt clods that were hard as rocks at each other from greater heights and chased the culprits down the streets on our bikes without caring if a car was in front of us or behind us. We knew the drivers had eyes and could see us. I don't remember having a set of lawn darts, but we played it when we went to my cousins' houses.  Yes, we tried to spike each other; it's what you did.

    Another thing we did was ring doorbells and run away, or we'd ring them and stand there waiting for friends to come out and play. We rang doorbells to hear them chime. We usually got a look from the father or mother of the kid we just said goodbye to, but sometimes other people's doorbells were cooler than mine were. We prank-called people too. You know we did. We didn't do all the mean nasty sinister stuff like telling people they had three days to live. No, we just said things like "Hey, is your fridge running? Better catch it!!" We were dorks. We were really really cool though.

    Our skates strapped right onto our tennis shoes and we had to tighten them with a key. They were metal, and the wheels were metal too.  The tire swings we affixed to our trees hadn't been cleaned and if it rained it rained, and we dealt with the water sloshing all over us. We nibbled on the tar that the city crews laid down on our streets, but not before we popped all the bubbles. What? It didn't get hot enough where you live to have your street tar bubble up? Well, sometimes you had to use a stick so you didn't get burned.  You know what else we had back then? We had horny toads. (Brown Texas Horned 
Toads) They were everywhere. 

    I miss those kids. I miss that my kids were probably the last age of kids to have spit fights, impromptu mud-wrestling, or sleepovers. Times have changed, but not for the better. I can't wait to get to heaven and do these things again -- maybe not the door-knocking thing but yeah...the door-knocking thing too. I'll do it. 

Photo Credit: Reddit

Me, the Comedian.

 About the time a certain creative and ruggedly handsome songsmith from Edinburgh was being born, I was doing a very good bit myself in Hollywood as a stand-up comedian. I laugh now about it for a few reasons. First, no one really does it anymore straight out of high school like I did. I was actually, at the time, just barely old enough to be in the bar in Oklahoma, and in California where I was at the time, I was too young. (and there I was up on their stage performing.)

    I look back at my young and adventurous self, and again, I have a chuckle or two because I was literally unstoppable about getting up on stage to say whatever the hell I had in my head to say. I rarely depended on a skit or routine. I just winged it; said what was popular for the time, the day, that hour, you know, if something was happening right in front of me I'd go off and talk about it. I used to ask the audience what they wanted to talk about and then proceeded to make up stuff so I could continue to involve them in the performance. Gosh darn, I wish we had smartphones back then. 

    When I say I was unstoppable I mean I would literally jump and volunteer to go so no one had to feel nervous or giddy. I was never nervous or anxious about being heard; which probably isn't something that currently surprises anyone who knows me. Being a comedian helped in a few ways with any of the negative feelings I may be experiencing. I'd simply showcase it, involve the others, and dismiss it as if it was something that needed to be packed away - - or scorched. I loved the physical aspect of it too. The gesturing, acting, moving about. If there was a pole near me either on stage or just off of it, I would run up to it, throw myself onto it, spin around, and stick my legs out before turning upside down and wrapping one or both around the pole while I continued the skit. (Yeah, it was a fun time to be alive...and thin.)

    The drinking age in my state, the state of Oklahoma, was 18 at that time. Everyone I knew was drinking. I made a lot of money off those people too. I would get three or four of them rounded up to play poker and since I didn't drink, I'd wait them out, bet heavily throughout the night, bluff my way out of every hand, and take home the money. I could get them to show their cards, that was helpful. I'd bet them I could tell them what they were holding. When I couldn't actually do it, I'd ask them to prove it - - and they would. 

    I remember when I worked at the Improv in Los Angeles I had to find my own way there and back, but it wasn't a problem for me. I worked for three separate studios in their transportation departments and I could take home something as long as I brought it back. I owned a really cool Karmann Ghia, but why pay for gas when the studio can?  I was never a headliner but moved up the ranks to third or fourth most of the time. You'd go in on an open mic night, do your bit, get votes and the next week if you came back you went on in the order they told you to go on -- I loved that. I used it to gauge whether or not what I was doing was funny enough to make the next leap. It was.

    I didn't resort to being sexual; that was what I used to not be. I would take a broom, mop, and bucket with me on stage and talk and joke while I swept the floor, claiming the last guy was so filthy I felt as if I needed to clean the place up a bit before I got started. It always worked.  The Bee Gees worked too - - I know every word to every song I think, and I did then as well. I'd pull out a lyric and challenge someone to finish it - - they couldn't because they were into acid rock, even classic, but not the Bee Gees. I'd make up some lie about being from Scotland and continue the rest of the skit in that accent. Loved it. (The Bee Gees were born on the Isle of Man, not Scotland)

    I didn't start out as a stand-up. I tell people who choose to listen, that I actually started out as a sit-down comedian. I began the first day of Kindergarten; the class was my audience. No, I wasn't the class clown, I was the class comedian - - a huge difference. I thought for years I would make my living up on stage, and I did for 3 years, but it never really paid, so I had other jobs as well.  When I worked in L.A. I also worked the studios taking vehicles back and forth. I also babysat a mansion, and from time to time, usually three days a week for three hours a day, I would answer the phone at California Student Loan Finance Corporation. I still can't get that out of my head sometimes when the phone rings.

    "Hello, California Student Loan Finance Corporation, this is Jude, how may I help you?" takes a little time to say, but it gives the caller time to get their stories straight, doesn't it? You can't exactly say you've reached the wrong number when someone makes you wait that long.  The CSLFC was just a few blocks east of Twentieth Century Fox studios on Pico Blvd. I would walk to their offices and one day I came across a big, huge, never-seen-before snail - - the joy! I picked it up and carried it to work with me. He died a few days later since I didn't know how to properly care for a snail, but he'll be the first one I'm sure to greet me at the gates of Heaven - - with an instruction manual. I'll have to read it, and agree that I was woefully negligent before he'll let me pass - - Jesus, you know, forgives -- not necessarily the escargot.

Photo Credit: Lincoln someone - - Forgot his last name. It was 1982, and I was in the middle of the Pacific...freezing. 

1211 (53500 words and growing) 62% Done.

 Yes, yes, I got really busy today, and I finished three more chapters of the latest Nick Posh thriller titled "1211".  If you don't know, 1211 N.W. 30th was an address in Oklahoma City that I really did live at when I was quite young and stupid. I've changed the address in the book to 1211 W. Garvey Street, and I give it a much more affluent style and living space(s) than I ever had. It's all part of the creative license I'm so proud of. 

    You'll never believe what I did, and only because I can. No, Tex, I didn't ask permission, I just did it. I did it because I wanted to. I did it because I could, and I did it because it made my book that much more interesting. I claim in the book "1211" that a baby elephant was born in captivity at the Oklahoma City Zoo when in reality, the darn thing was born in the Tulsa Zoo! Woot! I went there!! Changed the course of history and the true facts just out of sheer want-to. That's me. I will not apologize. I claimed that elephant's birth for my fair city, and you know what, I may alter one or two more realities in the process!  You just never know with me. It is a fiction book - - nothing can be or should be taken seriously; not in this one.

    So, today, in the book, Mercedes finds herself at the hospital after being pushed to the ground by a silent rather hulking bully; we're sure Posh won't let it rest. He'll find a way to nail the S.O.B. when he can. It may take a minute to think about, but he'll get his man. Speaking of men who have been got - - the body of the murdered man was indeed found today in the basement of the old stoic home and just like that, he disappeared! WHAT? Who? When? How? Well, you'll just have to read the book now, won't you? (I have to write the rest of it before you can. I haven't figured it all out yet.)

    Tonight I sat down with Ginger and went over the small tartan book that I use for notes for this book. I have a tartan-covered book for each of my books. They will end up sharing a notebook when I get to the point where I run out of tartan-covered notebooks. I can fit two books in one for notes. It's good to know. Anyway, I sat down with Ginger and I wrote out the little notes I had been scribbling into the book. I write them all out, type them out, and then I refer to these notes when I'm fluffing and stuffing.

    I'm not at the point where I need to fluff or stuff just yet, but I'm sort of kind of doing that along the way to make things seem as if I know what I'm doing. It's a game I play with myself. I pretend to be this really successful author who has nothing to do all day but read and sweat words; it's a really fun game. I like to think I'm winning at it, but again, you'll have to wait for the next chapter to be written to see if I really made any progress or process. It's not always crystal clear because I can't always read my notes -- yeah, it's that way most of the time.

    Tomorrow will be a big day. I will type up the notes and then start placing the tidbits into the already 62% of the book that I have finished. I'll scratch through each note to show myself that I did in fact use the note I took. If I don't use the note, I'll save it for the next book - - I do that too. I go back over the notes I have written for the other books to see if any of those notes will fit into this book - - sort of a tying up of the loose ends from a book that may have had an unanswered question just hanging and dangling out there in space. I do that too.

    I even found myself writing notes in the "1211" notebook, then circling the note and writing the words "Mesa", "Cask", "Shadow" or "Kingdom" next to the circle. Those are the next four books in the Nick Posh series. After Shadow is "Death Mask" and after that I don't know yet -- but I'll work on it. I'll keep you posted. The next book I'm going to write will not be a  Nick Posh thriller at all. It won't be a romance novel. It will be a dramatic novel and I've already started it. I don't have a tartan-covered book for it yet, I want it to have its OWN. This one is really rather - - special. You'll find out why later, I promise.

    Until next time -- eat your vegetables and sing your praises. Always turn off the basement lights and if you need to double lock that door -- go ahead and do that now.

Photo Credit: Me. This is the "1211" notebook.

1211 ( Over 50% Done )

 I just wrote another 5200 words or more, putting me over the 50% spot of my book. I think there are 45,000 words now, and the book will be between 86,000 and 90,000 as it may be a thicker book. I'm not really sure. I want to try to keep them around the same size so they are about the same cost for me to order them. Right now my books cost me about $6.50 to have them printed, and $3.99 to mail to me, so for right at $10.50 or so I can enjoy my own book in book form. I don't want that to be higher than it needs to be.

    I've written Chapters 15 and 16 today. Neither of them was what I was expecting, but I like them both. Indirectly they explain one of the residents at the house, and in a very direct way the 16th chapter gives us an insight as to who was murdered, why he was murdered, where he is buried, and what we're gonna have to see take place concerning the murderer. Time is a funny thing.

    The next few chapters will deal with the relationship of the deceased and the person who ended his life. Next, we'll find a way to uncover and recover the body in such a way that it doesn't bring attention to the murderer as it may have been an accident or even self-defense so so so many years before. Is it really necessary to punish someone for something after such a long time when they've only been a model citizen since the event? (Well, yes, of course, but there are mitigating circumstances, to be sure.)

    I'm finding that the ideas in this book come out of nowhere for me. I have some of the memories locked away in my head and then there are made-up stories that tie in, twist in, tangle with, and simply take over. There are truths and half-truths, there are lies and outright fabrications of fantasy! It's wonderful and I am fully enjoying every last minute of it. I have no idea why I took a week or 10 days off, but I did, and now I'm back at it. I won't make any predictions as to when the book will be done. I'm already past the day I thought it would be, so we'll go with I don't know.

    After "1211" I'll write a novel that isn't a Nick Posh thriller. It won't be a romance either. It is a dramatic novel, and one I won't reveal the title of as it really is that big of a secret. It's the biggest secret. I have worked out a plot and storyline, but now I need to fill it in with the really cool stuff. There will be death and even murder, but the characters don't investigate or try to solve anything. It's information they use. I won't say more. I'll do a ton of research for the book, I know that.

    For now, "1211" is on the examination table and must be attended to before it ruptures. Too many fun stories ahead, and I need to figure out which ones to leave in, and which ones to leave out....but I really don't want to leave anything out - - that's the problem. I could have a sequel to it, but I doubt I will. I'll just do a flashback now and again  -- that'll work.  I'm back on track, so hopefully tomorrow I'll write two more chapters and we can pick up where we left off. (I say we...I mean me.)

Photo Credit: VintageHatShop.com 

Sesame Seeds are GREAT (I KNEW IT!!)

 Sometimes I pat myself on the back for knowing something, and other times I stand around waiting for someone else to do it because you know, you don't want to look too proud, but this is one of those times that I simply must toot my own horn because I was not only right, I was dang-flat-out right, and na-na-na-boo-boo to the kids I went to high school with who made fun of me; you know who you are!!

    I was that kid, and maybe you know one or two of us, I was that kid who ate licorice, chewed clove-flavored gum, and couldn't get enough of those sticky good sesame seed candies from the Asian store. I couldn't wait to visit my grandparents because I could sneak out of their backyard, cross a few streets and fields, and make my way to the part of town my parents whispered about; Oklahoma City's own "Chinatown".  They had a live fish market, and they had weird food for sure. One of the things they had were sticky sheets of candy that you weren't able to bend and break, you had to cut through it. It was made of sugar or corn syrup I'm sure, but 99% of it was nothing but sesame seeds; gloriously stuck together with love. I could not get enough.

    Because I didn't want anyone to know I had gone by myself to the stores we were all forbidden to go to, I could only buy enough to eat on the way back, and then hope Mom didn't find the tiny seeds in my pockets later on; but that was never happened. She knew. Moms know.  When I got a little older she would take me to the stores to buy it, but she wouldn't share it with me; she thought it was disgusting. I have to this day, no idea who introduced it to me, but I can't stop eating it. 

    In high school, we had a few cafeteria ladies who swore by sesame seeds as well, and they added them to several of our food items. I loved it. My friends hated it. I remember saying how good sesame seeds were for you, and I think I even said then that they could be the reason I'm so chill - - and now I know through research that I may have been right all along about that! Sesame seeds and sesame oil literally help to reduce anxiety and stress levels in both animals and humans! Not only that, it helps with pain, promotes and releases serotonins and it lowers bad cholesterol. WHAT? Will you look at that? Little Jude knew something way way way back in the day!! Do the dance.

    Not many people like black licorice either.  My mom would say it's like eating tar. I never really tried tar before I was four, but after the 10th or 100th time my mom made the comparison I decided to try it, and she was wrong. Yep, that woman was absolutely and completely wrong. Licorice was so much better than street tar, which was the only type of tar I could find. Licorice had a better taste than tar, a better texture, a better consistency, and it went down so much better than tar ever could. I don't think I actually tried tar more than a few times, but yeah, I had her dead to rights on that one!

    Today, because I'm a grown-up, I drive my own car, and I have the rights of an American citizen, I can get into my own vehicle and drive my happy self to the Asian section of our city, which is no longer referred to as "Chinatown OKC", but we do distinguish it from the rest of the area by calling it the "Asian Market Area"; where some of the best food is served and they still stock my favorite treat -- but not in sheets these days. I have to go the other side of town to get "rounds" of it, but at my favorite store to pick it up, I get bags consisting of bars of sesame seed candy. Some brands are better than others.

    Let me just say - - and I say it with such a happy face -- next to chocolate, sesame seeds candy ranks right there; which is next to chocolate. I'm not stupid. Chocolate will always be King! (dark over light, and if it has raspberry anywhere near it, I'm all over it.) Now, I'm thinking of a new recipe; one that will have chocolate-covered sesame seeds rolled in raspberry mash, then dipped again in chocolate - - and rolled in sesame seeds. Dare I dream?

Photo Credit: Netmeds.com

    

Joy!! Find it! Make It!!

 I recently heard someone say that you don't need to be happy all the time, but you do need to choose joy every time. They are not wrong. Happiness is an emotion. We can be up or down at any given moment over something that happens, but joy sustains us through the good and bad times.

    Joy, much like peace, is a gift. It's not something we are born with or something we'll run into now and again and think, "Oh, I can use a little of that!"  Joy is a choice; much again, like peace. We can choose to be upset about something or we can let God have it and find that peace He promised; the peace that literally passes all understanding. No one really quite understands how it is that I am at peace in my current situation, but it's true, I am at peace with it. Do I want it to change? Yes, and I also know it will change - - because again, I have that promise to cling to.

    Happiness wanes, and it is dependent on too many factors that frankly, I can't sustain most of the time. I like to think that I'm right most of the time, but even when I'm right it doesn't always make me happy. Sometimes, I'm downright sad because I'm right about someone or something. I can't tell you how often I wished I was flat wrong about a person who I believed loved me, cared about me, told me they were my friend, and even shared personal time and energy with me - - but then reality hits, and bam - - happiness is right out the door; isn't it? But...joy...stays.

    Joy comes from Jesus; it comes from a place I didn't create, couldn't imagine, and won't ever achieve by myself. It comes from the God who without question is the only Creator of it, and He's the one who allows me to share in it. Without Him, there is no joy, and without Him, there is no hope of finding the joy I desire or the peace I truly need. Times hurt. People hurt. We go through times that seem so unnecessary and then wonder why or how it happened...there's bound to be a reason or a lesson to be learned, but the pain is so deep and it runs without stopping to take a breath (at times). But...joy.

    Count it all joy, He told us. Because He suffered more. One of the things I like to tell myself when I have a little pity party is that no matter what I'm going through, He was taken captive, stripped, ridiculed, beaten, spat on, made to carry a 300-pound post up a steep hill naked in front of those who both loved Him and those who hated Him for what He stood for. It doesn't end there - - no, after that, He was literally nailed (not tied to) to the cross and it was dropped into the ground using a pulley action mechanism, jolting him and tearing at the flesh where the nails were placed. I have nothing to compare my suffering to.

    How then do we find joy when we're being hurt? We remember that He was hurt; and He not only went through it, He remains with us when we go through our trials too. He died that day; He was taken down off that cross...oh, but He didn't stay there, did He? No...no, He did not. This is why Joy lives. This is why Peace is available. This is why we can't find a single reason to worry. This is why being content is easier than we ever dreamed it could be. He did not remain dead -- He lives!

    "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone. Because I know, He holds my future, life is worth the living just because He lives."  These are not merely words, they are inspired words. They are felt, they are lived, and they are soaked with promise and compassion. They are words that seep and stain our hearts with the indelible ink of His love and covenant. JOY comes to us when we seek it. 

    There are so many verses in the Bible that talk about it, but here's one that really lands and remains steadfast with me because I wasn't around when He walked the Earth. I wasn't around to experience what the disciples did. I am one of those who has to depend on faith to find the answers, so 1 Peter 1:8 radiates with me:  "Though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and even though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy."

    I'm so sorry - - does that sound too churchy? Well, get over it, I'm not really apologizing, how can I? "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart - down in my heart - down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart - down in my heart to stay!!"  Truth.  I may not be happy about things right now, but I am 100% sure it will be OK. What are my options? Live through it and survive or die and go to heaven - - don't tempt me!! 

Photo Credit: Amazon.com

Poo Update 2 (No, I won't update too often after this one)

WARNING: There is a gross section. AFTER the red lettering. 

I think the first week of trying anything is and should be considered a trial period.  You shouldn't have to guess or wonder if a product works. Giving it a week or so to try it out seems quite reasonable to me. That being said, it's only been 3 days I think, and I already have a resounding "YEA" for you! 

    I think I started this Jude Poo on Monday, pretty sure it was the 29th of January, as the products came in on Sunday afternoon and I wanted to do the routine in the mornings.  So, Monday I used the product I created it, mixed it, and I took 1 teaspoon of the mix with the last 3 ounces of my coffee. I added a little more cream to offset the apple cider vinegar that was added.  Tuesday morning I had a regular poo, but it was a good one.

    I did the same thing Tuesday as far as using my coffee leftovers but this time I added a tablespoon of the mix thinking it may be that I need to do that. I found a really convenient scoop with a handle on it in the junk drawer; it is really close to being a measured tablespoon, so I am using it.  This morning I had three, count them..1, 2, 3...good solid poos. They were both the consistency and the amount of a regular average daily poo. This means that the product is most assuredly working.

    Now for the more detailed gross part, so you don't have to read the rest of the blog if you don't want to, but it is something I am going to report because there may be those people who want to know. You can skip to the last paragraph (blue)

    The first poo I had this morning was thick and round (circumference-wise) It was heavy and was what everyone would say was a good poo. No surprises there, but the second and third poo were uneven on the sides, they had notches and ridges, were not smooth, and not exactly round, as you would expect to see coming from a cylinder "tube", "pipe", or intestine.  They had the look of being ridged which according to the research I did online means that the product is scraping the poo from the sides of my intestines like it is supposed to do. YEA!

    I also drink about 30-40 ounces of lemon water every evening, sometimes it is lime water, but most of the time it is lemon water, and what that does for me from a  health point of view is to also scrap the sides of the intestines to get sludge and muck off the sides so it can be flushed. The water is key!!  You really do need to drink a lot of water. I drink about 100 or so ounces of it every day with the amount of tea and water I drink. I never count the coffee, but I do count the green tea. I drink about 4 cups of it, and about 4 cups of regular lemon water every day. 

    My gut feels so good today. I'm not kidding. I am not extended whatsoever and I literally can see a difference in it not just feeling a difference. People, it's only been 3 days. I don't know where you may be in your journey, but it's only been 3 days and I have been relieved of so much already. I took the product again today, this time trying to use juice. It didn't work out for me. I didn't like the texture or the taste. I poured it down the drain and made a 1/3 cup of coffee to use. I liked it so much better. This time it was warm because of the new coffee, other times it was not.

    That's it for the update. I am 100% sure that what I did was a great thing, and it saved me a lot of money too. Now, there is a catch - - I have powder to use, whereas the product you buy online is pills. I have NO IDEA how or if their product works. I do know mine does. No, I will not sell it. I will tell you again what I put in my mix, and what amounts I put in it. If you're a doctor and you think I'm doing something wrong, please feel free to tell me. I ran it by my P.A. before making the changes in my own life.  You should do that too. Here's what I use.

The recipe I used for the Jude Poo.

Cascara Sagrada powder               8 ozSea Buckthorn powder                  3 ozAloe Vera powder                           3 ozMilk Thistle powder                      4 ozTurmeric powder                            2 ozHyaluronic Acid powder               1 ozI mixed this in a bowl and poured it into a container with a secured lid. I use 1 tablespoon of it every day now.  I add to the mix the following:Apple Cider Vinegar          1/2 ouncePsyllium Husk powder       1 teaspoonCasein Protein powder        1/2 scoop1/3 cup coffee with creamerChocolate syrup (a good squeeze)Best of luck and hopes for you. I am NOT telling you to do it, I am telling you what I did and do. There is a HUGE difference.
Photo Credit: Uline.com

How to Treat a True Musician. (I may be the ONLY person who feels this way)

 In my life, I have met and come across many (a great many) professional music artists because I worked for a very elite group of concert promoters, and I was privileged to meet and get to know dozens of solo artists and members of many bands. Most of them would be recognized if I gave off their names. We aren't close; in fact, there have only been a handful who continued to speak and communicate with me after they came through town and after the company I worked for produced their gigs. 

       When I use the word "musician" I am not talking about someone who plays an instrument. I'm not talking about someone talented and lucky enough to earn a living from either playing an instrument or two, or if they are in fact songsmiths, those very precious who allow words and melody to blend and fulfill a purpose. I'm talking about a man or a woman who is that music; the embodiment of the blending. The person who absolutely cannot (and usually will not) be or do anything other than make music. (Note, I didn't say earn money making music...but making it.)

    The musician is a person who is deeply seeded and rooted in music; they breathe it, eat it, wear it, share it, become it, and who are destined to go where the music takes them whether it is up or down, in or out, with or without, they are the essence of that word. You may know one or two of these people; if you do you are blessed. They are not normal, they are not average, they are not typical, and therefore they cannot be expected to work, earn, pull their weight, or otherwise contribute to a world or society that demands that each partner in a relationship do so. It's not that way with them; it's impossible.

    Some musicians are "discovered" and in every single last case known, they were taken under wing, promoted, produced, and then probably abused and taken advantage of. If the musician didn't have someone in their corner to straighten out the mess they may find themselves in, it could mean the loss of not only their involvement with their gift but for many it means giving up their words, giving up their passion because they didn't know better and signed away the rights to their works before truly understanding the depth of their actions. 

    A musician cannot be expected to be more than what he or she is; if they can, they are only partially musically inclined, and have other aspects (good or bad) running through them; they are multi-faceted. A musician is just that; a mono-faceted being; a musician makes and is music. There really are only a few of these types among us, but they do exist, and when we stumble across one we know. We know, because they thrill our soul. We know, and we should be internally and eternally grateful for their presence. We should also know that they could have already been a victim of one or more who have not been fully affected and fascinated by them. We'll know by their spirit if they have been hurt, stung, crossed, or broken.

    Like an angel, very very much like an angel, a musician is a being of higher energy; consumed with a frequency much stronger and more potent than most. When I say they are not normal, they are not average, they are not typical, it's because they are so far far above the rest of us, we should admire their spirit and embrace their inspiration even if they don't themselves see themselves as being so marvelous. The good ones really never see it; they seem embarrassed or confused when the fact is presented to them.

    God has blessed me in some ways when it comes to my outlook on musicians. He has broken my heart and filled it with sympathy, compassion, and a willingness to bolster, love, and appreciate the grace that is the musician. I am not impressed by any amount of money one may earn, it is by far the least thing I am impressed with in fact. I am moved by their devotion to the calling. I am moved by their dedication, their own passion, and the way they seem to believe the world should be viewed. 

    If no one else is willing to do so, I am willing to forgive a true musician for what the world may see as being lazy, lax, or idle. I am more than compelled that they are anything but this; they are torn in their spirit because they do have families to support oftentimes, and they are expected to do more. They are expected to quit themselves for periods of time to earn,  to pay bills, to keep the fires burning at the homefront - - would it be cruel or inappropriate for me to say anyone who meets, falls in love with, and subsequently marries a musician KNEW or should know the very being of the one they love is not able to quit him or herself even for a moment?

    If God should (and I would not mind if He did) decide to bless me with sharing the rest of my life with a true musician, I would at least have the withal to know that I would not expect that man to work outside of his choice to do so with his music. He wouldn't need to earn but simply play. He wouldn't be expected to profit but to bless. He wouldn't be held accountable for income, but for his walk with his passion; I would hope he would want to share it. If God gave me such a man, then God Himself would also let the man know that I understood and understand all that is and will go with the word "musician". It isn't 94% but 100% of who the person is. God only made a few of them, and they are all so very unthinkably precious.

    Will God do that? I have no idea. God does God. He does what He is going to do. I can tell you this, there is no way under His Heaven or on His Earth that I am seeking to find anyone to share my life with at this point; it would ONLY be Him and His doing if it happened, so if it does happen, my prayer is that God finds me the perfect man for this chapter of my life; and that could only be a musician. That much I will admit to, but I'm not casting any nets. When I say they are few - - they are rare, quite limited, and extraordinarily singular. No net is needed. If it happens, it will be because God flat deemed it; end of story.

    The world at large suffers from not being as compassionate and willing to promote or produce the musician without strings attached, but I do prefer the strings. I have been uniquely redeemed in my spirit because I have the insight to know what is genuinely sacred. 

Photo Credit: Canva.com

I Stand With Texas (and that's sayin' something since I'm from Oklahoma!)

 Just in case you've been living under a rock, or you just don't keep up with such things, there has been a MASSIVE change in immigrant crossings over the past few months. It's been going on since the day Joe Biden took office, but it's been so much more aggressive lately, and a development of sorts has been developing quite rapidly at the Texas border. I don't know about the other borders, but the Texas border has seen a bit of action.

    Truckers and farmers in very large numbers have taken to driving to the border in their rigs both with and without trailers attached. Some of the rigs are farm combines and larger tractors; things you'd hope would remain off the streets, but this time is one of the few times we (others on the roads) honk and wave, and we even salute those brave men and women who have joined in the convoy to put a stop to this nonsense.

    We've been so patient, so very patient, and we've sought ways to help immigrants come over legally, but without vetting, and without some sort of record keeping, this has turned into a nightmare beyond imagination! Don't think for a second that it's just simple people with simple needs trying to make something better of themselves. That is not the case. For the most part, the ones coming over are men, younger men, not families, just men. They are truly invading our country.

    Too many of these people who are crossing by the literal thousands every single day are not doing so legally. They are from other countries other than those in Mexico and Central America. They are coming from Saudi Arabia, Iran, Russia, China, and other places. They aren't here to find regular work, and to bring their families over to make a better life; they are here to destroy our great nation from within, and they are being assisted in this grave assignment by none other than our own government. 

    To say Biden and his administration have committed TREASON is tantamount to saying you can hear the song of the cicada in the South!! IT IS OVERWHELMINGLY true and it is overwhelmingly wrong and we the people, WE THE PEOPLE are not going to stand for it. They crept their way into Office in 2020, but it won't happen again. This time we're taking back our country and we're starting to do it peacefully through the two very important groups who make America GREAT to begin with; our truckers and our farmers!! (THANK YOU!!)

    Thank you, Governor Abbott of Texas, for your stand. Thank you, Governor Stitt of Oklahoma as well. We will stand united. We will stand together. Oklahomans stand with Texas, and when that happens we are unstoppable!! You can bet your last hard-earned dollar that the folks of Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Louisiana, Kansas, and others will too. We're sending truckers. We're sending farmers. We're buying t-shirts that show our support and tell everyone we can - - because your nation is ONE NATION UNDER GOD and until He comes to take us home, we will be indivisible. 

Buy your shirt here: I Stand With Texas Tee

Photo Credit: AmazonFashion.com 

Poo Update. (I know, right?)

 I've never been offended when people wanted to talk about their personal bowel issues because it's actually quite necessary to do so; it's just the when, where, and how they discuss it that can be a problem.  For me, because this is my own blog,  you may in fact catch me talking about my poo - - poo is what we need you know. When we can't or won't go it can be a real problem. Being able to express or release one's bowels can be a very happy and joyful occasion at times.

    So, I blogged about it a few days ago, here is the link, poo blog. In the blog, I describe a certain online product you can buy for about $28 a bottle, and the bottle will last you 30 days. I can't say a month as several months are longer than 30 days. It will last you 30 days, and the product advertising or reviews, even say it can take up to 60 or 90 days to really see the results you're hoping for. Let's say it's going to take you 90 days, and you're out $28 x 3, or $84 trying to get all the poop out of your body. That's not too much to pay really; not if you're about 10-20 pounds heavier with the stuff inside of you...just sitting there.

    The thing is, I don't like to pay that kind of money. I really don't. I'm a little stingy with my hard-earned money. I don't want to just "flush it down the toilet" as it were. (Joke...yeah, OK) and I don't want to just hope that something works if I pay for it to work. I did what anyone should do, I looked up the ingredients of the wonder pill and decided that most of what I found could and would work if taken in sufficient amounts.

    When it comes to anything that could have a laxative effect, you need to run it by your doctor and be sure that you can take it without any issues. I'm saying that both as a disclaimer and as a means of being realistic. You should consult your doctors anytime you try something new that will affect your systems and how they operate. Only you and your doctor know what you need. Don't let someone from the internet persuade you to do something; I mean that.

    I checked out the ingredients, and I bought them online through Amazon. Instead of buying the one product that had all the ingredients in it, I bought the ingredients separately, and in so much greater quantities too; for so much less! I bought about five or even six months worth of product for $36 and I added two ingredients that I had already at the house. I added the cayenne pepper, and I added the ginger root. The product they sell doesn't have psyllium husk, turmeric, vitamin C, or probiotics in it, but I added those as well. I don't know if I said so in my poo blog. (When I got the ingredients I had to do math to figure out how much to put into the mix and what quantities to use. It wasn't too hard, the amounts are on the back of the bottles.)

    I added the vitamin C and the other ingredients because I take them every day and they too are in powder form, so it made sense to add them to the mix before I blended it. I use my last 2 or 3 ounces of coffee, a bit of protein powder, and about a tablespoon of chocolate syrup too - - because I can.  I pour in about 1/2 ounce of Apple Cider Vinegar. Any more than that and it starts to taste really funky. I may add another 1/2 ounce of it later to lemon water, and that really helps with the sides of your colon - - stripping off any goo or gunk that may be hanging around.

    The thing is, and you can ask your doctors this, a lot if not most of cancers start in the colon. Cancer isn't our only concern though. There are a lot of ailments that start right there in the colon. That's why the doctors ask you to have it checked and cleaned as you get older. We don't drink enough water, and we should. I do, but I'm not the norm in that arena. I'm not necessarily normal in any arena really, but that's another blog entirely.

    So, the powder I made, the Jude Poo, is going to last me about five or six months. I'll keep you updated. I'll expect results in a few weeks not months, because I do exercise, I do drink a lot of water, and I do pray over the matter. Prayer is a key factor in all of my daily habits; it could be a good thing to add if you haven't done that already. God made me. He knows I need to poo to stay healthy and happy. There's a reason people say things like, "You're full of ..." and so forth. Being stuck or stuffed with it can make you irritable. It's not fun. 

    Today's update is a basic one. I started the program yesterday, and all is well so far. I have had my "movement" and it was normal for me, but I want greater results. I want to truly be able to say that this is an amazing decision. I want to see myself weighing 20 pounds lighter in a month. I want to reach my weight goals by April; we'll see if that happens. It's not just about poo at that point. I need to keep lifting weights and working out, walking, drinking water, and you know, eating correctly, and getting enough sleep. It all works together.

    Have a blessed one. Get out there and exercise if you can. Make a point to praise God for all He's done for you, and all He will do for you too. He listens. He smiles.

Photo Credit: Farmtohome.com