Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 68

Yes, Still Praying!

 Just a quick little update on the prayer front. Many of you know I pray for a particular person and I have since about this time (September 2019) about three years ago. It may have been end of September, beginning of October, I don't really know. What I do know is that God got a hold of me while I was listening to the music this man recorded (with a worship band at the time) and He (God) asked me to pray directly for the one particular man. This sort of thing has happened to me in the past; this wasn't the first time God has literally given me a command or directive concerning one person.  It's not like I'm the best prayer warrior, nothing like that. It's not that I don't sin and therefore God will hear every word of my every prayer, or that because I'm such a great person God will answer my prayers regarding the person I'm lifting. No, more or less it is because God Himself has saved me, and I owe Him! I owe Him so when He asks me to do something, I am not about to say no.

    Here I was, about three years ago now, praying for someone on a very routine and even mundane basis, right up to the moment God stopped me and asked if I would like for someone to pray for me the same way I was praying for this man. He, again God, asked me through the Spirit living in me, if I realized the way I was praying was both boring and ineffective. Yes, I was fulfilling my duty, I was in fact doing what I was asked, but it was sort of (exactly like) a security guard showing up for the night shift and then going to sleep; maybe placing a cut out of him or herself in the window of the guard station to make it look as if the work was being performed. Who are we that we think God doesn't see these types of shananigans? C'mon! He's EVERYWHERE and sees everthing.

   You may ask then, if God is in fact everywhere and sees everything, why would He need you, (me) a nobody, to do the whole lifting in prayer anyway? Wouldnt He already know what needs to be done? Of course He knows! Let me say it this way, again, I owe Him. I am indebted to my Lord, He is MY salvation.  If He wants to be served and asks me to serve Him, and He gives me a way to do it, then that's exactly what I'm going to do. The problem wasn't God, the problem was ME. I was half-heartedly doing my job! He knew it, I knew it, and He called me out on it.  

    About two years ago I really hunkered down on the assignment. I researched the man, I found out literally anything and everything I could about him from his professional life to and through (deep diving) into his personal life. He seemed rather normal to be honest. I couldn't understand why it was that God was so adamant that I continue to work through my service to Him through praying for someone who didn't really need prayer.  I was wrong!  The strings of this man's life slowly but steadily began to unravel even as early as November 2019. I remember November 2019 very well. I became sick with what was later described and diagnosed as Covid 19.  If I remember anything it was that time of my life. I had a lot of time to pray for my "friend" because I was home and not doing much of anything else.

    Months went by, the world felt different, conditions changed, challenges reared their ugly faces, and the man I pray for became annoyed, then upset. He became isolated, anxious, depressed, and even a bit manic in some ways. Soon, about a year later, a year ago, his tapestry was not only undone, it was heaved and shoved to the side; whether he did the heaving, or his wife, or his family, or the world at large, it didn't really matter, he was upside down, tipsy-turvy, and rolling downhill really quickly in terms of his emotions and stability. He bottomed out fast and he bottomed out hard.

    Though he was and is a born again Believer, he was hurting to the point of not being able to find his way to God for help. If he asked for it, he may not have accepted the help, and the man ended up needing professional help. I knew something was up, but I didn't and couldn't find out anything. My prayers went from 10 minutes to over 30 minutes and sometimes over an hour every day. I tried to find out more information, but stone wall after stone wall was found and I just couldn't push past it. God can push through, I knew this, so I just kept praying. 

    A bit after the first of the year he emerged from where he had been for about four months, and he had not only changed his appearance by dropping several (30-40) pounds, he was clean shaven, he wasn't in the band anymore. He had decided to start completely over, and that was hard for me to accept and understand because I watched as he reportedly (through his own posting) told a new tale of where he lived, how he was living, what he was not doing, and in a very blunt way he was starting over without his family beside him; without his kids. That's the part that hurt me. It hurt me for him, not for myself. I couldn't imagine what he was going through or why he was being forced to stay out of their lives. It couldn't be that he was choosing to; he was their caregiver for the past 10-12 years.  He was Super Dad!

    As time moved forward week by week, I began to see changes in the man's personal character that utterly screamed CHANGE! He wasn't who he was, and this new guy was unrecognizable when it came to his walk with Christ. It was as if he had purposely set Jesus on a shelf and tried to row the boat single-handedly. I knew that wouldn't work. I've capsized a number of times trying. One of the advantages I have over this guy is that I've already made so many of the mistakes I can see he was making. I didn't go as far as he went with one or two of these mistakes, I can tell you that right now, and I, being absolutely upset and fed up with his choices, decided to call off my prayers and just throw the whole mess into the proverbial sea! Let the idiot sink! Let's see if he can swim without Jesus! Go for it, there's a whale out there with your name on it Buddy! That's what I was thinking. I did too. I just threw up my hands, and walked away!

     I didn't get very far.  About an hour or so after my little tantrum, God called me back to the prayer closet to ask me again, if I would want someone who was praying for me to do that.  Of course, I said no, but I reminded God that I wouldn't have slapped Jesus in the face like I thought I was seeing either! That's when God whispered,  "No, you wouldn't, but he needs your prayers now more than he did before, doesn't he?" Oh, I can't STAND IT when God is right...then again, I'm so glad God is ALWAYS right!  If we can count on anything it is that God will not, cannot, and won't ever change. If it was a sin in the year 600 BC it is a sin today. If it was a commandment in the year 1319 it is a commandment today, and it will remain a commandment until the last day of eternity. There is no last day of eternity just so you know.

    So, here we are, here I am, still praying and still hoping that what I pray is being heard and that God is moving and will continue to move in the life and spirit of the man He's asked me to pray for.  I am absolutely thrilled to the core to report that He is doing just that. Every day I check the social media posts of my friend, and every day I see movement back to God. I see strides, I see hope, I see willingness, I see healing. I see grace, and my broken heart breaks further into a melting of goodness and warmth that can only be created by and maintained by my God and my Savior Jesus.  I'll go ahead and tell you that I was unceremoniously banned and blocked by my "friend" when I called him out for what he was doing and how he was doing it. I don't blame him; from his point of view, I may look like some weirdo who thinks she has a right to address his life choices. I do NOT have that right. I overstepped.

    I found a way, and I continue to view his social media every day, but I never respond and I never comment, never like something, I don't approach or address him in any form. I mean, I do blog, and if he's reading this it means that he is not only still reading what I write, but that he gives a damn enough to do so. I know he does, and that's why I do it. He knows I give a damn too, but I respect him, and I won't approach or address him directly. When he's willing, when he's ready, we'll talk. For now, I know that I would want the person who is praying for me to continue to follow me, continue to love me, continue to care and continue to hope for me.  God doesn't ask us to do much, not really, but what He asks of us, we should do with a cheerful heart. I think I do.

    Soon, and very soon, the Rapture of the Church will happen. When it does I will go into Heaven at the VERY same second, split nano-second that my friend will go. We will both be in the presence of Jesus and none of this will matter as far as what either of us thought about the other. What will matter is that God will be praised, God will be loved, God will be honored, and God will be served. If nothing else is done, that is done.  I can't even describe the joy my soul is overcome with when I see that my prayers for this man have been heard and worked. His actions will not affect me in any way. His choices will not affect me in any way. His decisions will not affect me in any way. He is not mine, but we will be linked eternally through Jesus; and that is more, much more than enough. It is such a gift. Such an enormous and precious gift. 

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to Him, and He will bring it to pass."  Psalms 37:4-5  If it was true then, it is true now, and it will always be true.  My desires are being met because I refuse to stop delighting in my God!  It is so very very free-ing, if that's a word, to be bound to Jesus. 

Photo Credit: Fan Pop

Silly Me! (I am Silly, I Admit it)

 Here, is proof evident, that I am one of the silliest people you may ever run across. It's very true, and I don't shy away from that fact.  I will, just because I can, buy or try something that is supposedly going to work miracles.  I will try it, I will buy it, for no other reason than to test it. I mean, I do have to like it, I won't go so far as to buy or try something I won't like. I have limits.  Today, or rather yesterday, I bought a pair of magnetic earrings.  They were delivered today by Amazon, that's why I said "today".  I have placed them on my ears and now I wait. What am I waiting for you may ask? Well, according to the advertisement they are supposed to help me lose weight; and not just a pound or two. Oh no, I saw the video they posted. That woman went from being a size Hippo to a Gazelle in just a few weeks! (You can't see me laughing, but I assure you, I am.)

    Do I believe these earrings will help me lose weight? No! I have no trust or stock whatsoever in that claim. I bought them for three silly reasons: (1) they were pretty. They are rose gold color stones. (2) they were cheap. They were literally $4.99. (3) they work incredibly hard to help you lose dozens of pounds!!  OK, that one was just for kicks, but if I do end up losing two dozen (24) pounds I will be the happiest Gazelle this side of the Oklahoma City Zoological Park!  I'll also lend my new earrings to a friend who may want to lose weight as well. Why should she shuck out $4.99 if I can lend her mine? See, always thinking of others. (Which would include the fact that I think my friend is fat and needs my magical earrings! Again, I'm laughing.)

    Are you like me? I love reading crazy claims and thinking "What if".  It would be so very wonderful if all we ever had to do was to plop a fizzy tablet into four ounces of water and drink it in order to lose weight. It would be the biggest breakthrough if these magnetic earrings did the trick, or if they somehow connected all of our electric shockwaves in our bodies to give us all perfectly sculptured figures, cure our anxiety and depression, and somehow helped our fingernails grow stronger. If all of the claims made on products being sold were true this world would be worth hanging around for a minute longer, but to be perfectly honest with you, no one really thinks they'll win the lottery, but they play it anyway. This is the same mentality with these types of products; go ahead now, put in a few bucks, what's it gonna hurt? It's not going to hurt anything really, but it will make the manufacturers and sellers a bit richer.  I do like the earrings.

    I think I'm also interested in seeing how long I can go without losing one. They don't seem to be incredibly powerful magnets. I think it may behoove me to try and find stronger tiny magnets to work with the backings of the actual stones. I'm thinking my ear lobes may be thicker than they're supposed to be. That thought got me  thinking that my ear lobes were abnormal when I know full well that they are perhaps the only normal thing about me! (I will say this, my ears lay flat against my head. Some people pay good money to have this look!) I hope I can keep them a while. I don't want them popping off and being eaten by a dog or a cat! (the earrings, not my ears)

    Oh wow, flashback! Dang.  Here's a true story for you. I was pregnant with Laura, so it was 1989, and it was Valentine's Day. I was going out to dinner with my then-husband, and we had a fancy dinner at a very nice restaurant.  I don't remember what I ordered, but it came with freshly baked rolls. When I bit into my roll I was immediately in searing pain! This was a pain as I have never had in my life! I had inadvertently bitten into a diamond earring that was lost by one of the chefs a few days back when he was mixing the flour to make the dough. My back teeth on the right side of my jaw were utterly destroyed.  Needless to say, we did leave the restaurant, we were compensated of course, and I was patched up, but over time those crowns have given way to the roots being destroyed and this memory has just taken first place in my head! STOP! 

    When I think about it, and I do think about it, some of the strangest things have actually happened to me. I have been a party to, or a part of, or just witness to so many things that most people would never encounter. I don't know if I'm blessed or cursed; perhaps a bit of both. I've had at least two near-death experiences. I woke up once and my mouth was solid black from a mold I had eaten accidentally. I've seen things that have later happened (dreams/visions). I have known people who were around me were evil and I was able to walk away or get away.  I've heard someone speak in another language that I didn't know, but the words were revealed to me so I could help them. People walk up to me all the time and ask advice without me even so much as looking at them. It's as if they think I'm going to know something, and I guess I either do know it or I try to find the answer for them. I can't explain it. Strange things just happen to me.

    OK, I've had these earrings on for about 30 minutes and I feel them. You know how you feel regular pierced earrings, the way they sort of pinch the ear lobe? That's what I'm feeling at this point.  I guess that makes sense because the power of the magnets is pushing or holding the sides of the lobes together. I really don't want to lose them, so I'm not going outside with them in or on my ears. I'm going to hang out in the apartment and just blog, study and watch murder videos. I'm still writing my murder book and trying to get information about the 1930s in my head. I'm working on the disposal of a body.  Should I add magnets? Oh, I could do that. I could put strong magnets in the sheets that I wrap the body in, then attach that to a metal plank at the bottom of the sea!! Oh, this may work. Maybe an anchor from a boat instead of a plank. I'll work it out.

    Have a great one! Get some sunshine if you can. We're waiting on the rain here in Oklahoma! It has been a minute, and we are too excited about it.

Photo Credit: PinterestMine are Rose Gold

Rockstar? Not Impressed.

 Yeah, I'm not gonna lie about it, I love guitars.  I love that others can play them since I apparently can't.  I love hearing them, I love being around them. What I don't like is when a really talented individual believes himself (or herself) to be a god of some sort, and more or less imposes themselves on those around them. I guess they're hoping to be worshipped. Keep walking Schmo! No one thinks you're cute, and your attitude (and public behavior) leaves way too much to be desired.  Not impressed.

    Oklahoma has seen its share of really talented musicians, singers, songwriters, and the like. You can't throw a stone in this state without hitting someone who has been a recording artist. I'm not kidding; think about it. Reba, Garth, Vince, All American Rejects, Flaming Lips, just to name a few.  So, when I walked into a local store today to do a little shopping, I was not the least bit interested in making the acquaintance of some overly tanned distressed overtly obvious drug addict who decided he wanted to waltz his way over to me to seek my attention.  Move forward. 

    It's times like this, and they don't happen all the time, (but when they do it's priceless) when putting on the "Reuben Face" helps more than you can imagine. My son Reuben, a Staff Sgt. (soon to be First Sgt) in the Oklahoma National Guard, United States Army (ret.) has a face he employs whenever he wants to convey an undeniable message of "Back the f*ck off or face the consequences".  It's sort of a cross between an angry Pit Bull and a patient crocodile.  He may even draw in a breath through his nostrils, flaring them up a bit in order to make that sound that reiterates the dispatch of the face. In other words "No."

    I think our eyes met as he began his word slurring.  He caught my report without me having to say a word.  In sort of a Jack Sparrow mannerism, the man spun around on his heel, and in doing so he fell to the floor. Yeah, you don't impress me much. What I did think was funny was that the furniture department manager walked up to the man and politely asked him to leave. Mind you, the manager is about 5'8" and maybe weighs 140 pounds. The thug was around 6'3" and pushing 270 or so.  When this took place the musician snapped "You don't know who I am, do ya?"  I loved the response of the manager.  He said politely, but loud enough we could all hear him, "If I don't know who you are, you must not be all that important."  Thank you!  I gave the obligatory nod, and it was received. 

    Before the man left the store he had a few things in his arms that he was needing to pay for. He literally tried to push his way through others claiming he was in a hurry and he didn't "do lines".  Wow.  I don't know what band this man played for. I didn't recognize him, but a woman in the line called out the name "Tucker" and she said "Oh my gosh, I love you!"  I shook my head and thought, "This is why he thinks he's important. People let him push his way through life."  To reward her he walked in front of her, never acknowledging her, never thinking to say thank you. He didn't even say "Oh, I love you, too!", as some would do to show appreciation. Nope, he was just a dick from start to finish, and I decided to pray for the man rather than spit on his memory.  This life is all he has. This may be his only Heaven. Yep, God got me in the end, but that still doesn't mean I have to talk to the louse. 

    When I came home and told my daughter about it, her basic response was the same as my last thought. The man needs help. He needs detox, he needs rehab, he needs reform, and structure.  He needs Jesus.  OK fine. I'll pray for whoever Tucker is. Why can't all rock stars be like Barry Gibb (Sir Barry Gibb, my apologies). I doubt that Barry has ever (since he's been an adult) been snotty, rude, mean, nasty, imposing, or belligerent. Maybe once. We'll let him have that.  If you are a public figure and you are going to be in a public store with the public, please take heed and think before you drink.

 It was around 10:30 a.m. when this happened and the man was either pumped up from last night, or he started rather early. To think that he's out driving the streets in that condition is terrible to imagine. He'd be the first to drive off or deny any wrongdoing. He's a blamer - no responsibility taken.  On one hand, we do need the musicians. We do need the singers, we do need the songwriters. We need the performers. We should show an enormous amount of grace and appreciation for their skills and talents, but on the other hand - - well, you know what I'm about to say. This is a two-way street. 

Photo Credit: WallPaper Access

Education and Oklahoma (A Sad Mix)

DISCLAIMER:  This was MY experience. I don't pretend to speak for everyone. The stats in this blog were found online. 

 Like the proverbial oil and water, the words "Education" and "Oklahoma" don't always go together when addressing both primary and secondary education. I can't say the same is true at the collegiate level, but to be 100% open, honest, and flat blunt, Oklahoma sits squarely at the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to rankings by state. Let me just say that again for those who have wax so firmly stuck in their ears; Oklahoma is number 50 out of 50 states when it comes to educational ranking according to several authorities both on the internet and at the state(s) level(s). We (Oklahomans) aren't proud of this fact. For many years we've hovered in the lower 40s hoping to rise above the pale, but it would seem that after the latest rankings our overall scores are typically graded in the D- to F range for just about every single category. 

    Oh, don't get me wrong, we still have students (and teachers) who give a damn, and who want to change these horrific facts. The problem is, that we don't have enough students, enough teachers, enough admin, or enough parents who want to both do their jobs at home and in the classrooms/offices around the state. Teachers are walking out of our schools in droves and yet there they are, the evasive administration(s) and districts screaming that they need good teachers. They don't want good teachers, they want teachers who will do what they tell them to do. They want teachers who will bend over and take it no matter what they ask. Some (if not most) administrators and districts don't give a damn about laws. They don't give a damn about contracts. They don't even give a damn about whether or not a student can speak or read well enough to write their own name on a piece of paper that was most likely supplied by the teacher!

    I cannot count the times I petitioned admin and office staff to send out notices to parents addressing the need for the PARENT to provide paper and pencils for their kids. Don't get me started about parents not being able to afford it. There are frankly too many parents smoking and drinking alcohol at home, spending money on lottery tickets, gambling at races or other venues, but ask them to provide the bare necessities for their kids and suddenly they forget how to speak English, they forget how to answer their phones, they don't receive texts, emails, or even open their doors if someone is brave enough to knock on their door to do a welfare check!  NEWS FLASH: Teachers are not responsible for supplying supplies. Teachers are not responsible for dressing your kids. Teachers are not responsible for getting your kid to school on time. Teachers are not responsible for feeding your kids. Teachers are not responsible for teaching your kid not to fight. Teachers are not responsible, nor will they EVER BE RESPONSIBLE, for training YOUR KID with regards to ethics, morals, character, right from wrong, proper language, or how to conduct themselves in a public setting. Maybe it's time we send out THAT memo!

    The other needed memo that should be sent out to the State, to the districts, to the admin, and possibly the parents, is the one about separating English native speakers from students who are not capable of mastering lessons in the English language. We, teachers, LOVE our students but we can't help them if we don't speak their language, and if they don't understand, speak, read, or write ours. The main reason our state is suffering in the ranks is that we can't stop our lessons to try and explain the lesson over and over again at 30 different levels in a classroom with over 30 kids in only 28 chairs in a room that was designed to hold 22.  We can't use broken tech when the kids are lightyears ahead of us! We can't expect to hold the attention of a student who can program code but can't understand Bloom's Taxonomy. We need grade-appropriate lessons, we need students who are at grade level if you expect us to meet state standards at the grade levels. We need fewer students in the classrooms. If you can't make that happen you get what you get! So far, it would seem that this is the PLAN! Stop expecting teachers to teach 32 kids at one time and have them all understand even the simplest of tasks or standards. It is impossible!

    I left the classroom at the request of the district I was teaching at on September 29, 2021. I was the 3rd teacher they had hired for that position, and I was hired after school started, sometime around August 15, 2021.  Why was I suspended? Why was I asked to leave? I was asked to leave because of a blog I wrote here on this Blogspot, that was an utter fantasy about a murder that takes place at a school I both attended and taught at. Seven times within the blog I mentioned it was fake, not real, fantasy, fiction, etc, but there I was being suspended because some parents feared the worst.  That particular parent was proved to be both a drug addict, a convicted felon, and get this; she couldn't read the blog, her kid read it to her.  OK, so after I was suspended my union rep challenged the decision. GUESS WHAT HAPPENED? I was found not to be out of line in any way, shape, or form. Who knew? I knew! That's who knew! The First Amendment is obviously not something that these kids nor their parents are familiar with. 

    Teachers would LOVE to teach these Amendments, but we can't. We're too busy telling the kids to stop, don't do that, move over, or no.  We're too busy arguing with kids about dress codes, rule-breaking, inappropriate language, and behavior. We're too busy dummying down the lesson plans so the kids can even understand the nominal meanings of the eight parts of speech.  How many parents out there (parents of secondary kids) know that there are actually eight parts of speech? I'll wait. Forget trying to teach the actual use of these words; we can't even get the kids to focus and stay off their devices long enough to realize they're in class to learn not to text or sext their friends. 

    I have taught at seven districts. I have been asked to leave, suspended, and terminated seven times; one for each.  I have sued, I have fought, I have won (guess how many times) seven times!  It is no wonder that teachers who aren't as mean, nasty, hardened, jaded, ornery as I am don't come back. I come back to shove it in their faces that their accusations are meaningless and unfounded. I fight to prove a principle! I never return to teach, no, I have never once returned after I have won my case. I simply take the settlement, and go home and do what I really want to do, which is to write. Every time  I have been released I was paid the full extent of the contract, and in some cases even more. They hired me, they had no reason to release me, they released me, they lost the decision when it was appealed (or brought to court) and they had to pay. I suppose I could have demanded that they pay me more. I deserved it every single time.  I guess I just kept thinking that sooner or later someone will figure out that I really do know what I'm doing!  I was wrong. They don't figure it out, ever.

    Let's go through the numbers:  Though 88% of all Oklahoma students graduate, only 29% of them read or write at grade level.  Over 60% read or write at more than three grade levels below their grade level by the time they reach the 8th grade and are expected to pass the 8th-grade reading test so they can get their driver's license. Guess what happens? Teachers are bribed and districts look the other way.  How do I know this? This was one of the reasons I was suspended from one of the districts. I reported such behavior to the state. I lost my job. It was easier and less expensive to pay me (in their eyes) than to go through an audit and determine which teachers were on the take. It's not that hard to figure out. Shall we continue? If we have only 1 out of 3.4 students who can even read a newspaper or magazine, which is written at the 8th-grade level, it's hard to get students to understand the driver's manual, let alone comprehend what the law requires when they do get that license. 

    I decided to give teaching one more shot. I applied to a district that released me in 2005.  They accepted me. They interviewed me. They hired me.  Within days I was called and told that they were rescinding the offer. When I asked why I was shocked that the principal was honest. She said, "Well, it seems you have a way of being upfront so I will be upfront. We don't always stick to the rules and laws, we cut corners from time to time to accommodate our parents and students, and it's just the way it is. We can't afford to be sticklers and you may not fit in with this bunch."  WOW...HONESTY!!  I loved the fact that she was blunt, but thought to myself this ranking crap will never end if we don't put a screeching halt to the way we do things in our state. Cutting corners, giving 50% grades to kids who just (only) put their name on an assignment and turn it in.  Cutting corners, allowing athletes to play even when they can't or won't work in class.  Cutting corners, allowing kids to keep contraband in their backpacks so they can sell it at school to make ends meet at home? Sorry, I don't want to be a part of that bunch.

    When I taught at an urban district in 2018 I was suspended one week before the end of school.  My grade book was altered.  I fought the suspension, I was paid an entire year for the inconvenience, and more than 95% of the illiterate students were passed to the next grade against my records. Oh, and yes, something happened to my records. They were somehow "accidentally" lost in the ether.  This is what happens in our districts. Trying to get anyone to step up and admit it is impossible. What typically happens is a teacher will just quit.  I'm not typical. I fight tooth and nail, and anyone who says I don't defend the kids is dead wrong. I recognize that the students are the victims here. Passing an illiterate student damages that kid first, the district second, and the community third.  It MUST change, but I don't think it will anytime soon.  Corruption rolls downhill - - I tried to stop it before it landed on top of the students; I wasn't always successful. 

    More often than not, I'll run into a student from as far back as 2002, when I first began teaching.  "Miss, Miss"  I hear, and I turn around. Most of them forget I have a Doctorate degree and should be called "Dr. Stringfellow". I think all of us are named "Miss" (except the male teachers).  I'll turn around, see my former student, and sometimes I even remember their name.  Most of the time they begin to tell me how tough I was, and how they hated me. Then they smile, and they thank me. Sometimes I get a hug. Sometimes just a good old-fashioned handshake. I've yet to have a student stop me in a mall, on the street, or somewhere and say they hope I die or that I was the worst person in the world! No, most of the time I'm the one who forced them to put down their phone and pick up a pen. I'm the one who demanded that they stand up because they rocked in their chair too much. I'm the one who drilled them endlessly on spelling words when they claimed they forgot their notes. I'm the one who stayed after school, during lunch or met them during my planning period to let them cry, listen to them, and then demanded that they turn their work in tomorrow or I'd add another three pages to it.

    I won't be teaching anymore. I'm done. I retired, pulled all of my teacher's retirement out of the state's custody, and began investing it. No more assemblies where I walk up and down the aisles stopping bad behavior, demanding that people stand up when they hear the National Anthem. No more giving the evil eye to anyone refusing to allow a teacher to pass, or a disabled student to have the lee-way. No more handing out secret lunch passes to kids who couldn't remember to bring their lunch and who didn't qualify for free or reduced lunches. No more holding my hand up in a gesture to be quiet; and then resigning to again, giving the evil-eye stare. No more demanding that everyone remain silent during the moment of silence or when we have an intruder drill. No more reiterating the reasons we honor the fallen on Veterans and Memorial Day. I have packed up my Expo markers and I have simply walked away - - but I'm not going to stop praying for them. They need that more than anything. 

Photo Credit: Left-Brained Budha

The Nose Knows.

 I don't know how many men tell me they can't smell worth a darn. I'm usually not surprised these days, but for years it just sort of struck me as being so very odd that a man couldn't smell what I was definitely smelling; be it good or bad.  I now relive in my mind the many times I would curl my nose upon stumbling into a bad smell, only to see my son, my dad, my son-in-law, just about any man, calmly walking through the musk, the mold, the sewage, whatever putrid odor was invading my obviously more sensitive nostrils.  "You can't smell that?" I would ask.  To my chagrin, most of the time, they would look blankly at me and ask "What? What am I supposed to be smelling?"  Sometimes one or the other will say "Oh, I can't smell anything, never could really."  It just makes me wonder about...you know, men.

    Women can smell just about anything. I say, women, I should say THIS WOMAN can smell just about anything. My two daughters are far superior to me in that department. Laura can't even go into a craft store or an all-natural food store because of the herbs and various spices being wafted about. She really should be able to somehow harness that ability, maybe see if she could put a freakin' Bloodhound out of work. I don't know if that could be a thing, but if it could a thing she would be really good at it.  She's really great at sniffing, I'm really good at detecting. I see it, smell it, feel it, know it, and I'm on it. I have a keen way of not being able to let something go if it's gotten up under my nose and/or spirit. Nope, if it's locked on my radar I will have to hunt down the source; be it a smell or a hunch about something else. We (women) just have a knack I guess - - some better (or worse) than others.

    I think I lost a boyfriend over it once. I'm not kidding you. I was making dinner when he came in from the outside world, and as he passed by me to wash his hands I asked him how his mother was. He hadn't told me he had been to see his mom, but I could definitely smell her Charlie by Revlon perfume on him. It's not as if she took a bath in it either, it was just casting a very faint hello at me as he passed.  He said she was fine, but all that evening he was upset that I knew he had been at his mom's when he hadn't told me. I don't think it was guilt because I couldn't care less if he was at her place. We got along. It was just that he wasn't comfortable with me knowing something without him having revealed it. Oh well, I guess that's something he never would have learned to live with. I know a lot of things. I've been deducing and thinking thoughts for over 1580 years now...I'm not even a Highlander!

    Some people play guitars. Some people know Math. Some people have zero issues with typing over 100 words per minute and they never check to see if they've misspelled something. I am not one of those people, but I can look a man in the eyes and see what I need to see, know what I need to know, and I suppose to some that means I'm a mind reader. Nope, just really good at reading faces, bodies, words, and signs that you're throwing out there, buddy!  I'd say it's a gift, but it could just as well be a curse, I suppose. It all depends on the situation.

    I was talking about Laura replacing a Bloodhound, I watched a YouTube true crime show last week where a particular Bloodhound was given the scent of a man the cops believed was the killer or could be with the killer at the time someone was killed.  The dog was given a relatively old scent, it had been picked up with a sniffing machine in an abandoned car that was left for over six weeks in a parking space about two miles from where the deceased was found.  The dog picked up the scent and ran with it. By saying he ran with it, he pulled the handler's arm so hard the man fell on his face, lost the dog, and had to run to keep up. After a few hundred feet the cop's partner took off in the patrol car to follow the dog. The dog ran about two and a half miles before cutting through woods, up a path, through a gate, and into a family holiday party in the back garden of the man's mom and dad. The dog, who had never met the man, sat beside him and stared into his face.  For his part, the man was unsure what was happening. He petted the dog on the top of the head and said something like "Hey boy, where'd you come from?" when the police partner(s) showed up and arrested him on suspicion of murder. Good dog indeed.

    The man confessed to having been with the killer, and even assisting his friend in disposing of the body.  The man did in fact drive the car with the body in the truck, and the killer walked to the area to start digging the grave.  The absence of the killer's scent made it that much more possible for the dog to find his mark. I'm not saying Laura could do something that extraordinary, but it does remind me of just how marvelous God is, and how He decides who and what will be gifted and just exactly how they will be.  I'm not sure a Collie, German Shepherd, or Great Dane could have completed the task. I just don't know, but what I do know, and what I have known for years, is that I am able to read patterns, gestures, expressions, emotions, and such - - and in reading, I can also detect when someone is both lying or about to lie.  That's when I start sighing. I hate it. I hate that I know. I hate that I can't accept this from others and I hate that I tell them what I can't allow.  If I tell the truth, and I do, I expect the truth to be told to me.

    I have to admit; I have lied in my lifetime.  I usually have an out too, a way for others to be able to not tell me what they are thinking and still hold my heart or my friendship. I ask them to pinky-swear with me, and to agree that if they can tell me the truth they will. If they can't do so at this time, they will consider doing so when they can. I just can't take a lie. Put me off and agree to tell me more later, but never, please never lie to me.  It hurts too badly.  Have you seen those people who can hear a song once and play it on the piano? I'm not like that. Have you heard of those who can see something, then draw it out perfectly either using a pencil, pen, chalk, or whatever medium? I am not that person either. I can write a poem on a dare. I can create a story, a tale, even the basis of a good novel, so maybe smelling good things and smelling really bad things isn't my only useful talent! I hope not.

    

Photo Credit: dog-learn.com
 

INSPIRED!! (Syr band)

 All I can say is that Alan Williams, Tim Janis, and Steph Macleod now have some strict competition! I have, through the glorious t-shirt advertising done by my precious Gaelic instructor Jason Bond, discovered the amazingly talented and oh-so-fantastical band "Syr".  Syr is a Celtic folk band out of...wait for it, NOT SCOTLAND. They are from South Carolina, USA! No doubt they are actually descendants of Scots, in fact, I've heard them say as much.  From the very first line of the very first song on the very first CD, I was hooked!  The only three other times this has happened ever in my entire life was first with Tim Janis, then with Alan Williams, and finally with Steph Macleod when he was with Celtic Worship.  When I first heard Tim Janis (I don't remember the CD's title, I've since bought them all) I cried. I flat began crying in the middle of the Borders Music Store. Do ya'll remember Borders?  https://www.timjanis.com/

     With Alan Williams I first heard his Gettysburg CD, I don't recall exactly where I was, I think it was when it first came out and I was a member of some interesting instrumental music club. The CD made its way to me, it sat in my car for months, and I finally popped it into the player. I had to pull over. I was literally unable to continue. I pulled into the Baptist Medical Center parking lot and listened from start to finish just asking myself how this could happen and have been happening for so long, but I didn't know about it, about him.  Gettysburg was by NO MEANS his first.  I think the man has 50+ CDs now and I own about 20. I am so behind. www.alanwilliams.com for those who just HAVE to have the best music at all times playing in their ears at all times. 

    Then, there was Steph Macleod.  Can words begin to give tribute? Are there words sufficient to describe the journey my soul was suddenly catapulted into when the first words of his voice hit my ears? I don't think I could adequately describe it if I had to, but give me enough time, perhaps eternity, and I could come up with something acceptable.  Though he doesn't have a website at this time, you can find him on YouTube, Spotify, and social media platforms. He has solo LPs and singles, but he was with Celtic Worship for their first two LPS as well, and they do have a website. https://celticworship.co.uk

    Now? Now, there is SYR.  Upfront, bold, blunt, and creatively magical as well as majestic. This band imposes themselves upon your throat with their bass and their big drumming sounds. I am a servant in waiting for drums, flutes, and guitar. I will stand where I am, stop what I'm doing, and refuse to move when I hear them. It's really a good thing I work primarily for myself. I mean, I do have a day job, but my boss understands I do far more work with these guys blasting in my left ear. I'd wear my full headset but then he'd never get my attention.  At home, while typing my murder book, I crank this music and I am forever being warned by the app on my phone that I'm damaging my ancient ears. Let my spirit decide what is best for me. I don't think I made it this long being a complete fool.  I have a brain. I can determine when I'm self-inflicting and when I'm not. (Most of the time) https://www.syrmusic.com/

    Not kidding, when I was a kid my mom would take to standing at the door of my room and staring at me. She couldn't speak because I couldn't hear her. Yes, they made headphones when dinosaurs roamed the Earth. I had a set. I had a PLUTO (Disney) set, thank you, and my dad, the best electrician in the world, jimmied a way for me to hook my headphones into my transistor radio. Don't judge me. I'm old.  When I gave birth and those babies' ears weren't blown out I proved to myself that I was capable of determining when and when not to crank the volume. Viva la Bee Gees! My kids know every word to every song every Gibb ever sang. Just sayin'. If I do NOTHING else in this world during the time I have been given, I can say that! Ha!

    Now that I'm a full-grown adult and have my own place, I still have a kid (not a mom) standing at the door staring at me.  She knows I'm writing, she can hear my fingers tapping and tapping. She assumes I'm attached to the music box, whatever form or device that may be. She assumes, assumes I am hurting my ears if I can't hear her screaming at me. She's usually wrong. I tend to ignore anyone who creates a distraction when I'm writing.  SYR helps me find words I hadn't thought of. They create in me a vicious and fiery attitude toward the foe(s) in my book.  They create within me a fantasy world that could be explored through words and whim. I am shrouded in cloudy mist, I am running through woodlands on the moor, I am completely lost in a thicket so dense I will need my torch to even see my breath. 

    Writing helps me to breathe. Breathing helps me to write. It's a thing. It is what it is, and when I heard the line "The lies that swallow you whole don't even know your name", I was struck by the highest temptations to dance; so I did. I danced and then I wrote, and then I wrote while I danced. I danced some more and thought of ways that my characters would play out in the book if they believed this and other lines of lyrics. What would they say? Where would they go? Who would know they were going? Why would it matter? How will I complete this chapter? Will I add another footprint in the marsh? Who is it? This is how this music affects me. "My heart, I heart, I will restore your life from the start".  Oh...it is just that good and more.

Find them.  Find them all!!  LIVE!  

POST NOTE:  After writing this blog I was introduced to another band, this one a Scottish band from the 1970s and forward. RUNRIG.  I ordered two albums, one in English and one in Gaelic.  EXCITED.

    

Photo Credit: SYR  

LEARNING! Bearded Dragons are so Amazing.

 My cats are just simply in awe at the sight of my Bearded Dragon.  I'll say dragon, I'll say Beardie, I'll call her Issy or Isabella, but you will understand who it is that I'm talking about. She is my new love! I can't get enough of her, and I am just too interested in learning as much as I can. I have been a reptile person for many years, but I have never owned a Beardie even though I really really wanted to. I have always thought they look like larger Horny Toads and for that reason alone I should have raised them in the past. Most of my reptile ownership has been through adopting, fostering, rehoming, and/or rehab. With this as a backdrop, I could have and should have come across a few dragons in the past, and I guess I did, but I didn't have the setup at the times they were available. That's the only reason I can think of as to why it is that just now I am able to have one in my life. I am so happy.

    A pet store associate friend and/or acquaintance gave me her Bearded Dragon when she was no longer able to care for it. The animal was sick, getting sicker, not eating, not pooping, and for all the young girl knew, the dragon was about to die. This broke her heart, as she didn't have the money to care for it should the animal need medical attention (which the owner thought was possible).  I accepted the challenge, fully knowing that it may come down to taking her (Issy) to the vet.  I prayed about it, as I do everything, and Jesus is just so wonderful sometimes, even to the little creatures He makes.  Issy is definitely getting so much better in just a few days' time. WOO HOO!!

    To begin with, I didn't really know all the ins and outs of setting up the cage or enclosure. I knew it was going to be different than that of an iguana. It has to be different as the animals are from different parts of the world!  Iguanas are very tropical, while dragons are from arid deserts in Australia.  Arid deserts can go on for miles and miles without water sources, and the animals rely on their food for that precious few drops of water they hope to find; whereas iguanas are literally soaking in the waters that surround their natural habitats. Deserts also don't provide the same sort of lush food sources that one might feed an iguana, so where to start is a good question; one that demands the attention of an expert. 

    Lucky for all of us, there is no shortage of experts online!! The problem is that everyone who has ever owned a Bearded Dragon feels that they are in fact certified experts, and I really wanted to do this correctly!  I found about three really good sources online to follow.  I found Clint's Reptiles on YouTube. He's fun. I found Cookie's Creatures. He's from Australia and is a breeder, and he is literally there in the deserts with the animals. He has a lot of knowledge. I also found a dad and daughter team a bit closer to my neck of the woods. They are in southern Georgia, not Oklahoma, but it's much closer than say, Brisbane!  I watched video after video on subjects such as setting up the cage for the Beardies, and what to feed and when to feed, as the babies are very different from the adults in that matter.  I found these three experts to agree in most cases, and that makes a giant difference to me.

    From watching the experts I learned I was flat wrong on about six different levels. This information did not discourage me, it strengthened my resolve to get it right and to do right by the lizard! I had a water source in the tank.  The experts explained that my tank would become too humid. It's not very humid in the deserts and the animal will become sick. They explained to me why I needed the light sources to have both UVA and UVB "rays" and that was a huge deal! I had tiny heat emitters but nothing like I was supposed to have.  I didn't have a background on my tank, and though it's not 100% necessary it sure makes it nicer for the overall environment for my new baby girl. The desert background of Tucson, Arizona is pretty in the evening and I bought a nice drop for the tank. I may switch them out periodically just to be that pet owner who really tries to over-try!

    My tank, though a 40-gallon, is too small. It's literally the smallest size any of the experts recommended. I didn't even think to ask about a bigger tank, thinking the 40 was good, but I guess I sort of knew because my Blue Tongue Skink (when I had one) required a much larger tank. I'll end up buying an 80-gallon tank soon, but for now, the 40 will have to work. I don't have space to really set up an 80-gallon in my room (which is where she is for now until I do move to another place).  She's OK, but I will have to take trips to the backyard with her so she can scoot about. I'll have an outdoor enclosure made so I can do just that. It may be only 11-14" wide, but it will be much longer and I'll soon have a backyard I can use.  Just waiting! It will happen. They don't stay out too long anyway, as the humidity has to be under 35% and the heat needs to be above 80; it's a summer thing. 

    Lizards, like bears and rodents, go into a type of hibernation. I didn't realize that was true. I knew my snakes did; it only makes sense that my Beardie will too. It will happen around the end of November, and she'll probably rarely eat and rarely move. She may end up staying in her hide rather than basking. She may decide to keep things private and never even speak to me, which would really be sad, but I would understand. It doesn't mean I won't play Celtic music for her, I will. She will probably wonder about my sanity; there is very very little Celtic activity in the scenic deserts of Australia - - very very little. She is possibly the only Bearded Dragon who understands Gaelic.

    Lastly, if you get a Bearded Dragon, and you should, and you only want one not two for breeding, the experts all agree that having a male is easier and sometimes better than having a female. Females can produce eggs without being fertilized. If they form and she can't pass them she may need surgery to remove them. It is not something that happens all the time, it's even uncommon, but it never happens with males.  Despite what some may believe, the female of any species is the only sex or gender that can become pregnant. I know, that's terribly controversial, but the facts are facts, and girly girl dragons are not excluded from this fact.  Be comforted by knowing they never thought otherwise. We're the idiots, not the dragons!

    Sidenote: I took Issy's water bowl out of her cage and she stared at me. She's not happy about it, but it's for her health! I promise. I'll spritz her in the mornings and give her spritzed food too. She can be bathed for 15 minutes two times a week, and if she's thirty she'll drink then. I was really surprised to hear about the water thing, but remember, camels go weeks without having to drink too. We just don't think about these things because we can't go that long. They aren't us. They are tiny dinosaurs. Literally.

    

Mr. Moler 2.0

  The Honorable Edward H. Moler was an amazing man. He was Oklahoma City's City Attorney for years, and he went into private practice at a fairly young age, making partner and then branching out on his own.  For years he worked hand in hand with other city municipalities and when I met him in 1994, he was in fact the City Attorney for the City of Nichols Hills.  At the time of my employment with Mr. Moler, as his paralegal and secretary, he had only two clients.  He had the City of Nichols Hills, and a large concrete company called Dolese Bros. Co.  If you're from the Southwest of the US then you have at least seen the big black trucks with the darker green rotating barrels that read "DOLESE" in bright yellow.  Having two (2) and only two clients was enough for Mr. Moler, and therefore he didn't feel that he needed to step up to the 20th century when it came to technology. The phone worked fine, and he knew his way around a pen and paper.  Then he hired me.

    The way I met Mr. Moler was in fact a fluke. I walked into his office on the 28th floor of the old Ramsey Tower at 204 N. Robinson, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. When I walked in to leave my resume with the lady up front I realized that she was in tears. I asked her if I could help and she said I could. She asked if I knew the older platform type printer, or if I knew how to manually force the old typewriter ribbon in place. I told her I did! I sat in her chair and helped fix her immediate need, and upon doing so she excused herself to go to the bathroom.  Several minutes passed and she hadn't returned. I didn't feel comfortable leaving the office unattended as Mr. Moler had not come into the office at that time.  The phone rang and I was relunctant to answer it. It wasn't my phone.  After it rang a few times I answered "Law Office" (a standard greeting) and it was the SECRETARY!!  She said to me, "OK, I'm leaving, I'm not coming back, but Mr. Moler will be in around 10 and you can tell him yourself that I quit.  You can also tell him I won't pick up my check as it was only for two days and I didn't do anything!"  I told her would let the man know when he walked through the door.

    Promptly at 10:00 a.m. a tall, very handsome, astute man dressed in an expensive suit and polished shoes walked through the front door.  I looked up and smiled. I introduced myself as "Jude, your new secretary. Your other one left this morning and she said she won't expect a check."  He stared at me. He said a few words regarding the check, then he asked if I had any experience. My answer was "Obviously you have far more experience as an attorney than you do as a secretary as these machines are next to ancient. They are about to break, and by break I mean I am about to have them carted off to a museum.  Yes, I have experience, and to prove it I will need your credit card."  I stayed with the man for nearly 16 years.

    I stopped working for Mr. Moler full-time in 2002. I continued to work with him as a consultant and fill in for the next 8 years.  He more or less retired after 2002, and I was there to keep things rolling until all of the court dates could be settled. Two of those events took several years to pass; that happens when the owner of the largest concrete business in the Southwest decides to cut his kids out of the will, and then it's contested.  Mr. Moler handled the entire affair with grace and dignity even if the man who owned the business was a putz deluxe! Not more can be said for the wife and/or his darn kids, but sometimes money can cloud a person's good judgment. (Not Mr. Moler's, but you know what I'm saying)

    It only took a few months to train Mr. Moler correctly, he was a fast learner.  I miss that man so often. I'll see something that reminds me of him and I'll wish I were back on the 28th floor again with him just staring out the windows using his military binoculars. We had so much fun watching the prisoners being transported from the jail to the courthouse, and watching presidents and others as they gave speeches downtown. I couldn't get him to slide down the spiral galvanized steel fire escape in the building, but I and my kids went down it a few (OK a lot) times. He was so former I giggled and asked him if his grandkids called him "Mr. Moler". He said they did! LOL. (He was kidding.)  Besides being an amazingly immaculate person by nature, he was pristine in all of his behavior.  He was not only a referee for the Oklahoma Supreme Court, he was the Chief of his Native American tribe for years.  Mr. Moler was my FAVORITE boss, and that's saying something since I worked for James Garner too! (Yes, THAT James Garner)

    Well, now I get to start all over again!  I have accepted a job with a man I won't name, but I will say that he's a great Christian man who owns his own business and needs a good office manager.  Unlike Mr. Moler, he knew and knows that he has to keep up with technology.  His past secretary has trained him very well. She and I talked today about his continued education, and he agreed to be as cooperative as he can be. He's 100% ready to be assisted and given the best opportunities to move forward. That is EXACTLY what I do.  I don't need to fly high. I need to help others fly as high as they can, and I'll be underneath to catch them, teach them, train them, help them, and watch them aspire to their top goals.  That is my top goal as an office manager.  I am also going to be his Claims Adjuster, which is in and of itself an honor.  It allows me to be in control of the office and be useful to his future success!

    This is gonna be GREAT!  It's not on the 28th floor -- just the 2nd, and it's not in the same area, but it is in a great place and I will be among really good folks. God is great, and HE IS KING!  The really cool thing is, not only was (is) Mr. Moler born again and I'll see him in Eternity, but this new guy is also a Christian man, and we had so much to discuss today other than work.  He asked if I can stay until Jesus comes back, and I agreed to do so since that's not really that long!

    Thank you God. Just, Thank you!

Chief and Hon. Edward H. Moler. (1923-2016) 

Dragons are Expensive! (But Worth It)

 If you keep up with my posts you know I recently adopted (or was the recipient of) a 2.5 year old female Bearded Dragon.  She is gorgeous!  If you're not into reptiles you may not appreciate that last statement, but she is just genuinely beautiful both as a creature and as a lizard! God was really very attentive when he made these guys!

    When I was a kid we played outside far more than the kids play outside today. We rarely stayed inside and that was even during the worst winters. We found places to hide that were warm, but we didn't want to be home. Mom found us work to do if we were home. Home was not really an option.  

    While we were out and about, and most likely this would be in the summer months, we found lizards to play with outside. Oklahoma is a uniquely situated state for a lot of things including the various species of reptiles. We have snakes, skinks, geckos, really cool lizards, and of course turtles. we have a lot of different species in and around the lakes, but there are many many lizards in the residential areas too because of the green patches of grass and sand.  Growing up, one of the main staples as far as lizards go, was the "Horny Toad", officially called the Texas Brown Horned Lizard.  They weren't all from Texas, mind you.  Any of the spikey babies we found were Sooner born and Sooner bred; I'm sure of it.

    The Horny Toad was my favorite to play with even if they did pee on you immediately, and you could kind of gauge it and hold their butts out a bit to lessen the impact.  They looked like little armored dinosaurs, and they probably are. They were sweet, gentle, and never bit, and they fared well with us kids dragging them all over the place. They were secretly hoping we'd drop them so they could skedaddle off and never be seen again, but that rarely happened with me. I had a grip!

    The Bearded Dragon resembles the Horny Toad in many ways. Where the Horny Toad is endangered now, the Beardies are not! You can literally buy them, rescue them, adopt them, and/or find them in the right places if you're traveling abroad. They aren't indigenous to Oklahoma.  My Beardie girl is a captive born Sooner, but her "peeps" are (as most Beardie) from Australia.  The vast majority of these lizards are found in the arid dry lands down under; Issy (Isabel de Brugh) is about two and a half years old. She'll live to be about 15-16 years old. She's in transition at the moment, having come from a fairly neglective situation.

    The kids that had her before me are quite young. I'm not an expert on Beardies, by any means, but they didn't do anywhere near the basic research it seems and now I'm having to undo most of the damage.  It's not a bad thing, and I don't mean any ill-will toward the kids. They are just young and couldn't afford the needed supplies and must-have devices that it takes to run a make-shift desert in your home. If you're going to have a Beardie, you'll need a tiny desert as well.  In most cases, a 40-gallon glass enclosure tank with a well-secured lid is sufficient for the needed size. I'll upgrade to an 80-gallon tank once I move to a house/apartment that has an extra room that I can dedicate to the care of at least this reptile, but possibly more.

    You'll need a heat source that is going to help the enclosure maintain a higher temperature, somewhere around 105 degrees, so that the animal can bask and feel comfortable. The source must have both UVA and UVB bulbs, and they do make one that has both.  I opted for the dual lamp dome and have a 75w bulb for the UVA and a 10 for the UVB.  If I need the 100w bulb I'll do that. I just want to see what the dome will do for now.  She has been lumbering around 40w and both the bulbs were ceramic, not even with the needed UVA or UVB. Ceramic is good for heating only and should be used in a separate dome on the other side of the cage. She was in a very cold cage for too long. She's not eating now, she has been obese from having too many super worms (protein) and she's impacted, not pooping, and most likely due to the lack of heat in her enclosure. They really really need that heat to do any and all things bodily functional. They are cold-blooded. If they are hot they will hide. My girl has been really cool. Poor baby.

    To do right by the animal you'll need to have two spots in the enclosure that are at different temps; one to bask on and one to hang out in if it's needing to cool or hide. You'll need a little hammock for them to chill on because they really love suspending themselves, and of course, you'll need water bowls and other things such as a food dish (optional but best) and little branches that they can climb on and/or scratch themselves when they are molting.  They will need warm baths from time to time, belly rubs, lots of attention, and if you're really into spoiling the heck out of your lizards, as I am, you can put on some Celtic instrumental music for them to listen to throughout the day.  I also play Italian Cafe type music and watch her stare at me! I think she prefers Celtic music if I'm honest.

    What does a Bearded Dragon eat? In the wild when they are really young, they'll scarf down all the live bugs offered to them. You can pour crickets into the enclosure and watch them disappear quickly.  As they get older the protein source is lessened and replaced with vegetation. I use green leaf salad, but not spinach. I also cut up butter squash, blueberries, strawberries, and carrots.  She's been really stubborn since I've received her, so she's not eaten much that I can see. She can have an occasional super worm, but this one is way too heavy for that right now. When she is healthy I can reintroduce them and give them to her once a week maybe. She'll be on a salad diet for a while. (of course, you'll need to add calcium from time to time as you will with all reptiles.)

    With any animal that is not a typical domesticated animal, you should do all the necessary research you can.  Like any other group of people, those who raise and keep reptiles are picky and opinionated. You'll get dozens of folks telling you how very wrong you are, and it takes a rather tough skin to ignore their poor advice and fish out the good advice among them. For the most part, those who love dragons are good souls, but they can be rather prickly -- pun intended.

    If you were to just go out and buy all the things you needed to get started with the Bearded Dragon, the first questions you would ask yourself is what age are you wanting, as the enclosures, heating source, food source, and other supplies will change as the animal grows. If you start with a cheaper smaller lizard, you'll need to add the bigger tank later, the bigger light sources, the better food, the hides will be larger, etc.  Let me run down what it would have cost if I didn't have connections in the reptile world. Admittedly, I saved myself a little cash by adopting and by going to the stores I know about where I can purchase used supplies. Think Craigslist if you don't know any specific stores.

Adult Bearded Dragon (male or female)  $30040-gallon tank with lid (new $150) $80 usedZoo Med dual 5.5" light source with lamps ($82 at store $47 online)Large hide ($65 in-store $30 used)Branches to climb (You'll need two, so $30 each at the store $30 for two used)Water dish (big enough to climb in) $45 at the store $20 usedBamboo hammock ($16.00 at store $10 used)Enclosure thermostat ($32.00 at store $10 used)Food (I cut mine from salad, but the dry food is $10 a bag)So you can see, that it can become rather expensive to set up the enclosure and buy the lizard. The problem with buying an adult is that they may or may not have been handled. They may or may not have an attitude. The babies are best if you can get the smaller tanks and heat sources, then pass them to someone else raising a baby, or sell them and use the money to put down on your new stuff. Either way it will be a bit of an expensive at first. Baby Beardies eat about 5 crickets every other day, so 15-18 a week at 12 cents per cricket. That can run into money as well depending on how far you live from your cricket source. These are just a few things to think about. If you need help - - ASK.  There is NO SHORTAGE of "experts" online. Most of the PetCo and PetSmart associates know a bit about Beardies too.  You'll be OK as long as you think with your brain and not your wallet. Horny Toad (Wikipedia) top
Bearded Dragon (bottom photo)

    

    

A Little Excitement Today!

 From time to time things will happen to and with us and though we are absolutely given a choice, most of the time we choose to help or assist if we can.  I am so proud of my kids for always (and I do mean always) stepping up when called upon to do so. They are first responders!  It just warms a mother's heart to see things that remind us how short life can be, and how well prepared our kids are in crisis situations.

    Today, I was walking Ginger around the complex while Laura was doing her laundry.  We don't have a washer and dryer in the unit (don't get me started) so we have to take the laundry for a little stroll down the sidewalk to the community laundromat on the premises.  There, Laura was just adding the detergent packs when she heard the distinct sound of an older man screaming as if he were in trouble. Like a dart, without even thinking about it, Laura flew from the small room to the exterior of the building to indeed find a gentleman well into his 80s, who had fallen just about 100 feet from where she was.  

    Right outside the laundromat is a sidewalk, then a blacktop parking lot, but then a rather steep easement of about 5-6 feet wide that angles up to another parking lot for the medical centers that we gaze at when we look out from our windows! It's the not best scenery, but they are nice buildings with modern designs, bigger windows, and lighting.  At the base of the easement lay the man Laura heard, and the man she would then be assisting up to his feet.  As she helped him another man came around the corner in an SUV, and he seemed to have been watching the older man for a while. The man in the SUV (Pat) quickly assisted Laura and the older man. We found out the older man is named Lonnie.  Lonnie is, as I stated, well over the age of 80, probably much closer to 90 years.

    Laura asked Pat where he had come from since she knew that neither he nor Lonnie lived in the complex.  While the medical centers are to the north of our complex, there is another nice office building to the west. Pat is a CPA and was working a little over the weekend. He glanced out his window and actually saw Lonnie fall. Getting into his SUV he drove around to help.  I hadn't come across either of them at this point, but as I walked Ginger around the corner and saw them I was a bit taken back. It's not every day I see my daughter propping up an older man in the parking lot!  Naturally, I decided to assist as well.  Since no one had had the time to call 9-1-1, I did that!

    They walked Lonnie to the complex, to the apartment next to the laundry.  A friend lives there, another older gentleman, but he was out this morning as it is Sunday and he had driven himself to church. Thankfully, he had left his gate unlocked and we were able to help Lonnie sit on the bench Charlie has outside on the porch.  With Pat and Laura watching Lonnie, I stood guard in the parking lot waiting for the ambulance. Instead of an ambulance, the City sent the rescue fire engine that has a couple of paramedics on board.  They were able to stabilize Lonnie long enough to gather all the necessary information they needed, and they went ahead and called for an ambo or bus.  

    I was at first a bit upset that the entire thing seemed to take much longer than I thought was considered a good response time. From the time I called to the time the firemen arrived, it was a good nine minutes. I didn't ask any questions, I was quite grateful they had arrived.  Later I called the non-emergency number and found out that the way I had initially answered questions about Lonnie led the dispatch to not add urgency to the call since Lonnie wasn't unconscious and he was mobile even with assistance.  I was not quite happy about it, as he could have struck his head! It could have been that he was ambling about but without knowledge. Next time I'll ask them to put in an urgent call - - gosh, I hope there's not a next time!

    All in all six able-bodied handsome and completely professional firemen came to assist Lonnie, and then two EMSA or ambo crewmen came as well. He was 100% in good company with people helping to get him loaded onto the gurney, answering questions, and being able to find out as much as they could about how it came to be that he ended up on the concrete outside the complex when he doesn't live there, and the medical buildings are closed on Sunday!  Seems Lonnie thought today was Monday.  That makes sense.  He had been fasting too; so he was tired and he was a bit disoriented. The one thing I found incredibly scary about it all was that Lonnie drove himself from about 15-20 miles north to be at the clinic today! If he had been driving on a Monday it would have or could have been so much worse because of the amount of traffic!  He was dehydrated and hungry and nearly 90 years old!

    After they took Lonnie away I cleaned up the paper tid-bit trash left on Charlie's porch from the firemen. There were pads that had wrapping and bandage coverings. Laura had brought Lonnie some bottled water, and I didn't want Charlie to come home from church and wonder what had happened in and to his pristine porch! I was just so thankful that Charlie hadn't locked the gate!  When she picked up her laundry a bit later, Laura ran into Charlie. She told him all about the morning's excitement on and around his porch!  How wonderful to think that by not locking the gate (on accident) that the Lord was able to use the area at a time when He knew Lonnie would be driving from Edmond, Pat would be working from the office, Laura would be doing her laundry, and I would be walking the dog.  God knows.

    As they wheeled Lonnie to the ambo, I told him I was going to pray for him. He put his hands up in the "prayer" gesture and nodded. He said, "Oh, thank you. I need that".  It's great to see and know that God has so many angels in this world and around each of us; we're never alone.  Laura said Lonnie reminded her of Pop and she would have done anything for him.  Somewhere out there, there are grandkids of Lonnie who may never meet Laura, but they'll know she was there for their Pop! It's a good day when God is praised.

Photo Credit: Me