Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 84

REULACA! (The New Beginning)

 Back in 1991 when my "Baby Gir" Caity Baby was just about 9 months old, I ran into a snag at my job. It was always that way. I was constantly running into snags because I was either unable to keep a sitter for Reuben and Laura, or I was fighting with my then husband who was (incredibly young and stupid) constantly finding new and inventive ways to cause havoc for our new family. I just could not keep it all together no matter what I tried.  At one point, and I don't know exactly when, but I remember the baby hadn't turned a year old yet, I started a new company of sorts, working for myself part-time as a housekeeper and more or less make-ready maid so that I could take the kids with me while I worked. If I went into an apartment to make it ready for the next tenant, I could clean out one bedroom and stash the three kids into it with toys so I could clean the rest of the apartment.  I made $50 for a one bedroom and $75 for a two bedroom. I did this about 2 or 3 times a week, and it made things that much better. The business needed a name in order to be incorporated, so I came up with the name REULACA. It stands for my three kids: Reuben, Laura, and Caity. 

    Sometime just after September 11, 2001, maybe 10 years after I had started the company, I was still using the name REULACA for my business, but I was selling insurance at this time, working for the attorney I started working for in 1994, and I was still (from time to time) cleaning apartments, or actually just making them ready for the painters to come in and do their thing. Reulaca had a few branches reaching out from it's tree.  Just after September 11, 2001, I was driving down the road, I may have had my kids with me, I don't know, but I was pulled over by a cop who had seen my personalized tag reading "REULACA".  In his head he pronounced it "Reu-LACA" and not "Ru-La-CAY" as it's actually pronounced. He stopped me to ask me if I was of Arabic descent. Can you imagine if someone did that today? Wow!  I stated I was not, I was in fact of Scottish descent, and he asked me to prove that REULACA was in fact a short name for my three kids; he wanted me to show him pictures of the kids and see if those photos actually had their names written on back of the photos - - they did of course, BACK THEN.  We had actual photographs in our wallets. Can you believe it?

    Just over a year ago, I decided to re-up the name REULACA for my new Etsy store, but I haven't actually gotten the damn thing off the ground. I thought I could sell my books from it, but it doesn't really look like that's taking off too wildly.  I'll see if I can piggy-back on my new venture in selling soaps and candles, and maybe some sweet people will decide to give my books a go as well as purchasing my homewares.  The soaps and candles came about as a friend suggested I try it. Her retired mother was doing it from home and making more money from her Etsy store than she ever did as a teacher.  That made sense to me, and I began to look into it. I wanted to know what I was doing before I just jumped in feet first and started selling things. I wanted to know the ins the outs, the upside downs, and the every which way, because I really hate it when I go all in and get thrown out. That's happened to me OH...a few times. Just a few. Maybe 287.

    Soap making is by far more fun that anyone has a right to have. It's the biggest blast and so very satisfying. You take (I take) seven different oils and combine them over heat and then mix that mess with lye water that's been sitting around cooling for an hour. You pour in a bunch of color and smelly good stuff, and in some cases you pour in powered spices for color, texture, scent, and antioxidant properties, and you have a flowing gloppy goodness that when set makes soap! It's awesome. I can make swirls in it, I can add floral pedals, little beads, glitter, trinkets....or just leave it plain. When you use a really cool sharp cutter with waves or cool edges the soap just really pops and everyone loves it. It does take 21 days to cure before you can use it, but I can sell it at about 14 days if I add a little warning sticker or card that states it shouldn't be used (for best results) for another week or so. After 3 weeks it's good to use, and in most cases 2 weeks, but it's just best to give it all another week to cure. Why not, it will last longer. I can get $8.00 a bar for a 1" x 3" x 3" bar and it may cost me $1.70 to make. That's a heck of a deal. (I charge actual shipping, not adding any extra for handling)

    Candle making is equally fun, no where near the mess that soap can bring, and it's easy peasy - - no, I mean EASY PEASY.  You literally stick a wick into the container using a double-sided sticky pad that you buy in bulk for nothing really, and you heat up soy wax.  Once it's heated you add the color and the scent, let it cool to about 123 degrees F, and you pour it into the container. I'm going to use 8 ounce tin cans when I sell the candles. When I make them for friends and family I use 4, 8, and 16 ounce glass jars. I've been using old cups, the ones that have a chip or just sit in the back of the cabinet. I just decided to repurpose them as candles and give them as gifts. Friends love it. I get rid of an old cup! It's awesome.  The 8 oz candles I pour will sell for $10 (at this time) and ship actual costs. The 8 ounce candles may cost $2.00 to make including the fancy tins and logo stickers, warning stickers, double-sided wick holder, wick, lid, color, and scent. That's an $8.00 profit. I don't charge extra for handling, I figure $8.00 profit is good enough. The candles I make have two things that the candles in the stores don't have - - I use more scent, more than the typical 6-8% load. I usually put in 9-10%. I also use love. There are not many folks out there still using love in their work  - I do. I sing, I praise God, I worship, I talk on the phone to my kids, I enjoy myself while I'm making my crafts and I hope the people who buy them understand that these products are made in a house that is blessed.

    I decided to use the name REULACA for the Etsy store. I'll incorporate again so I can do the tax thing correctly. I'll begin diversifying and saving some of the profit into the business, but trade some of it too. I'll begin my penny stocks and my stable portfolio, both under the REULACA label, and hopefully I can do more with it than just pick up a job here and there. I can make it loveable and useable. My friends who have been kind enough to burn my candles and bathe with my soaps tell me that the products are great, long lasting, and that they seem to be of good healthy quality. I try. I only use 100% soy for the candles, and the soaps contain pure oils. (Did you know it was castor oil that makes soap lather? I didn't know that until I started making soap.)  This is going to be a great adventure for me, as well as a great renewing of the name REULACA. I've designed a very simply logo for the stickers that go on top of the candles and the wrapping of the soap.  It's a white 2" x 2" round sticker with the name REULACA on the top, a Celtic 4-heart pattern in the middle representing myself and the kids, and it says "Homemade with love" on the bottom - - there you go.  Us in a nutshell.

    I'd say wish me luck, but I'm a Christian, so yeah, luck has no place with me. Praise with me instead. I'll be on Etsy soon with the soaps and candles. For now you can see my book "Jude's Almost Daily Blog" being sold there as a placeholder.  Go ahead  - buy it, I double-dog dare you!

Photo Credit: Me.

To Quit or Not to Quit - - I Quit.

 People will tell you that quitters are losers and losers quit. That's not a good statement in all cases, as it's not the least bit true or correct when it comes to so many things you should probably quit. For instance, should a person continue to smoke, drink excessively, cheat on their spouse, beat the dog, hit people in anger, or should they QUIT that behavior? I'm not talking about reducing that behavior, I'm talking about quitting it, stopping it altogether. They should stop. There's no other answer.  Should a person who is in a bad relationship just stay in it? Should they (maybe for the kids sake) stay and suffer the unbearable misery they're existing in, or should they QUIT? They should quit, c'mon, it's a no-brainer. Well, the same is true when one finds themselves working for an employer who told one set of tales, but was found out in due time, to have been lying and in fact purposely deceiving people to get their metrics of hiring people. It doesn't matter to them if they lose a few, the fact is they have a goal set and they try to meet that goal. They must hire 100 by March, another 100 by June, say another 100 by September, and if 14-19% fall off or quit they consider their efforts worthy. Count me in the mix with the 14-19% who were hired the start of January, and gone by mid month. That's right, I quit.

    Having just recently passed the SIE exam, and having been blindly applying for literally every job available that had the words "investment" and/or "finance" in the job description, I half-heartedly put my resume out to over 100 employers hoping to find the one job that stood out to me. I found said job, no problems, but it came to me AFTER I had accepted another position, one I wasn't really thrilled to take, but to be honest the toll was lighter than most, it was from home, it had decent hours, and yes, there was pay, but it wasn't stellar. I told myself it was going to be OK because it was at home, I could wake up and be in my jammies on the computer without being on video, and I could basically do my chores while I walked around the house using wireless headphones during the training portion of the job.  It didn't quite work out that way, the company has software that detects the type of headset you're using and they insisted on being wired to the computer so you couldn't walk around your house doing chores I guess. 

    The really good news, if there was in fact good news, about this company, was that they were rather established and they had a decent reputation for paying on time, having good benefits and working you the hours they told you they were going to work you. In my case, the hours were supposed to be 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Monday through Friday, and no weekends or evenings; perfect.  It wasn't exactly that way though. As training began, and the connections for several agents (insurance inbound calls) were unable to connect, our connections were dropped, and we had other technical real-world problems with being able to communicate freely and easily with trainers, several of us realized that we had been told various hours, had been misled about the training methods, and we were not sure (not one of us was actually sure) when or if we would have to work weekends once training was over. We were told no, at least I was. 

    Two weeks into the training, having found out we were given the wrong courses to follow and complete, a few of us banded together privately and decided to have a chit chat with the manager. He was cordial enough to having an open bitch session, no worries there, but when the bitching began he put us all on alert that (a) the hours were much later than we were told (b) weekends were a real thing and we needed to adjust our schedules if asked (c) the benefits really didn't start for 30 days after the 90 day probation period and here's the one that really stuck to our ribs - - (d) the company was going to license each of us in all 50 states and we, WE, were going to have to pay all of those license fees back if we quit within a year - - or if they chose to fire us for what they determined to be cause. Oh, OK, hold on, do the words "FUCK YOU" come to mind? They did for me. I just said it in another way. "I QUIT".

    Having been used and incredibly abused over the past 40 years by employers who think they can have their say and you have to succumb to it or be terminated, I chose termination by my own terms. No one is going to bully me into doing things their way, I am a professional and I have too many years of real quality experience to be treated as a pawn.  I was polite about it, I was empathetic to the bane that the others were feeling. I couldn't see them to see their faces as we were all using an Adobe Connect product to be in a virtual classroom chat, but we could talk using our headsets and we could chat as well.  Many (not only me) were complaining about the deception, or at least the misrepresentation of what they were told when being recruited. Several didn't have a clue that they would be expected to pay back a single fee, let alone 49, save the one they paid for themselves when they were licensed in their own state. 

    More than 1/3 of us were upset about the hours, the days, the pay, the benefits, the fact that our bonuses were not to be paid until 5 months after our first start and 90 days after our first production day. That's not what we signed up for. Should we stay? Should be endure? Should we just simply shrug our shoulders and say "Well, it's better than nothing I guess."  No.  We had 22 hired the first day of class, by the first week three had left, and now, on the 10th, five others walked away....upset, but better for it. We kept our integrity, they never had it to begin with.

    I'm pretty excited that I got out when I did. Not one hour after I left I had a call from the guy I was hoping would have called me before I accepted the call center job. He had family issues, then he had to deal with the Rona, so he's back in the saddle, and ready to go - - and so am I.  He's going to pay for me to take the needed courses to finish my Finance education. He'll pay for the courses, the exams, and the two licenses I need, and I don't have to pay that back if I quit. He's going to allow me to start as a W2 employee, not a 1099, and I have benefits from the 1st day of employment, not the 90th day. This is the way it should be; professionals treating professionals ...you know, professionally!  The pay is better than normal, the hours are literally my own, I decide when I work. I keep my own hours. I have decided Monday through Friday 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. sound pretty good, and he is A-OK with that too. YES!

    See, if I had not quit I may have been stuck. The old company was literally hours away from sending out my applications to 49 states for my life and health licenses. I would have had to stay 12 months or pay back over $7500 in the next 90 days. Who can do that? Not anyone I know, and not anyone who accepts a call center position as an inbound insurance agent. That's their thing, that's how they hook you and that's how they treat real humans with experience! No thank you. I quit them. I have no problems saying it out loud in front of God and everyone else - - THEY DESERVE IT.  They don't deserve me. Before I left I wrote a kind and courteous note to the class in chat saying I appreciated the opportunity and meeting each of them. I gave them my website: www.judestringfellow.com and I gave them my email as well. Do you know I had three people sign up to follow me on Instagram and Facebook, and they were so sweet -- they thanked me for leading the way.  They quit too.  

    It's OK to quit sometimes. It's OK to say ENOUGH is ENOUGH! Let your light shine, be the servant, yes, but don't be the door mat!  No one gets to push you around. You have the ability to be your best defense. Say it with me "I am allowed to be appreciated!"  (and you are)

Photo Credit: Live About

    

A Southern Girl is Gonna Cook For Ya.

 If you're still a single man out there in the big bad open world of wild and ugly, you may want to think about settling down and propping your feet up somewhere that you can call home. Home isn't just a word you know, it's where you hang your heart, and where you can share your experiences and existence with someone who (like minded) has only the best things in mind for you. If you're thinking about catching yourself a good ol' Southern woman because you heard rumors that they like to sweet talk, cook, and go fishin' now and again, you may be in luck. I heard there are plenty of single Southern women running around these parts, and because it's nearly full on winter, they'll be wanting to snuggle up in a cozy quilt after having baked you a few good things to keep your motor running - - if you know what I mean. Go for it! Get out there and find her. She may be looking for you, too.

    One of the best things to whip up in the kitchen that takes literally only 15 minutes, is a big heapin' of mac and cheese. Mind you, we Southern gals don't just throw on a pot of boiling water and soak the pasta, we first lace the water with butter, maybe a little sea salt, and we never forget to drain the water completely just before putting the noodles back into the pan to be dressed.  When a Southern gal makes her mac and cheese from a box, which is not that common, she's at least going to add a few spices if not Caesar or Ranch dressing before she adds the creamy cheese sauce. If she's one of THOSE box cookers that uses the powdered cheese, you don't really want her anyway, let that one go, and wait until you can find yourself someone who actually gives a damn.  

    After the creamy cheese sauce, the Ranch or Caesar dressing she's gonna want to top her mac and cheese off with those crispy little fried onions that everyone adds to their green bean casserole on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and when she takes a pot luck plate to church. You know what I'm talking about. Southern girls know that cooking is a very important part of our comprehensive reputation, but now and again it's not gonna kill someone to eat a dish that didn't take a big fuss to make. Besides, if you can get the food ready in just a few minutes you have more time to snuggle; am I right? I know I'm right.

    Another piece of pleasure and/or Heaven-on-Earth (that you can expect from a Southern gal) is to have her add a bit of sharp cheddar cheese on top of your hot apple pie. Whether she actually makes the pie or buys it, the cheese is going to slap you upside the tastebuds and let you know you're living. It's not every day you see it, it's not every day you earn it either, but if she's willing and you're being rewarded for something, you should just smile real pretty like and tell her she's the best. She is the best. Look what she's done for you already! 

    Melted cheese, spicy sauces, cheddar-topped-pies and even a bit of homemade orange marmalade can go a long way if your woman knows her way around the kitchen -- maybe I forgot to tell you what the orange sticky jelly can be used for after supper...you can guess. Now, when you're over there "guessing" I want you to also be smiling - - show her all those teeth, shake your head and tell her again in some sweet soft whisper (once you figure out what you can do with the marmalade) that she really knows "how to cook" and you absolutely appreciate her efforts to turn up the heat and get the pots stirring. Wooden spoons are optional. Just sayin'.

    I know this has been a really short blog and maybe there's a good reason for it - - maybe I'm thinking of a man I'd like to find up under my cozy quilt this blistering evening; maybe he's a little....hungry. 

Bon Appetite! 

Photo Credit:  Me.

The What If Factor.

 Here we go. This is a good one. I was dreaming a couple of days ago and my mind really stretched out to the fullest and went for a wee vacation.  I dreamed that a particular man at a particular time, from a particular place zapped or teleported from where he was and ended up in my living room, some 4400 miles (as the crow flies) away from where he laid his head in Edinburgh, Scotland.  I can't say from his home because he didn't have a home. He wasn't homeless, but he wasn't the leasee on an apartment, flat, house or cottage either.  He was somewhere in between homes at the time of his zapping! I'll explain in the next few paragraphs, but for now, I will let you in on the biggest spoiler alert.  I believe God let me have this dream so I could blog, so the man could read it, and he could understand for himself how it is that he is currently, and maybe how he should actually be - - if truth be known. Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction - - this was a dream, therefore, fiction. 

    For security purposes we'll not give the man his real name. Nope. We'll call him Wilson. That's a good Scottish name.  Remember, this is a dream, it did not actually happen. I want to make that clear so that no one from NASA comes to my house asking questions and looking over my new smart LED lightbulbs that I've just installed. You know when you do that, when you install "smart" anything in your home, you are putting yourself and the world at random risk and peril. Just sayin'.  

    Wilson, a man in his early 40s, recently divorced, recently finding himself released from jail, having served just under a year for something he actually didn't do, but plead guilty to in order to protect his family, was quite upset that having done the gallant and noble thing wasn't necessarily the right thing to do. While in jail he found himself abandoned by the very one he agreed to protect, she divorced him, and she told friends and family that she may have talked the man into admitting to the possession and use of cannabis in order to protect her from a similar fate, but because of Wilson's past  (he was documented as being an addict as well as having served at least two stints in rehab for suicide attempts and thoughts) he was not taken to a regular men's prison to serve, but he was regulated to an outbound rehab center that housed him for over 45 weeks and gave him 24/7 "care" with homework, expectations of group participation, and the threat of staying longer if he didn't fully confess his wrongdoing and seek genuine recovery.  The problem with that is that he really hadn't fallen off the sobriety wagon, so admitting to something he didn't do was both counter productive and internally hurtful. 

    After serving 45 long, boring, grinding weeks in the facility, Wilson not only had to sign documents that stated he was guilty and now on the road to recovery, he had to start his real stint of sobriety over from the several years he had accomplished back to Day 1. Down the drain; all because he wanted to give the kids a chance to stay with their mother rather than trying to forge a method of creating an income on his own without her being present were she to be rightfully arrested and not him. He couldn't work, he was disabled in a way, and he lacked the credit and had no specific working skills other than regular labor. Regular labor would not have been keen enough to support the little family; they would have had to move, they would have had to live penny to penny, and without their mother, the kids, about to go into their teens, may have been a bit more rebellious than the man could physically and emotionally handle. The clever wife convinced Wilson to take the wrap - - he did, and she booted his ass right out the second she found the opportunity to do so. 

    Having left the center, Wilson was accepted rather reluctantly by his father, to share a two bedroom flat on the lower south end of Edinburgh, where his father had lived for years and had been storing and stashing things (again for years) in the second tiny bedroom. In America we call these rooms larger closets with windows. In Scotland a room measuring over six feet in either direction is considered a "single" bedroom.  The room was in fact six and a half feet wide and seven feet deep. The room had a tiny old beaten mattress in the corner, propped up against the wall just so, and a number of boxes, bags, old clothes, piles of useless social worker materials and records which long since could be thrown out. There was a dresser and it was empty of clothes, but full of older papers and things again that could be disposed of, but the day and time really never arrived for his father to "get around to it" so it never got done. Today was that day, and Wilson had started the process necessary to call the place his own room. He may not have much, and what he had may be useless to most, but it was his, and he was going to make it work.  His only real possession that mattered, was his guitar -- that was his. It was good. The guitar kept him alive in rehab. Not that he was able to play her, but he knew one day he would do so.

    Having managed to forge through the wreckage(s) in the tiny room and built the makings of a real lodging, Wilson decided that a new start would only be enhanced if he were able to have at least a few pair of new trousers, maybe two, and of course tee-shirts, pants (what they call underwear in the UK) and socks. He definitely needed socks. The spring and even early summer in my neck of the woods may be warmer, but not in good old Scotland. The man needed his socks.  Calling out to his dad to let him know he would be back, not to wait up for him in case he needed to stop by a take out restaurant to enjoy real food again; Wilson headed off to the Asda, their version of our Walmart. He was on a mission for a few new things to start this new chapter. 

    A little over half way to the store Wilson realized he had left his wallet at home and couldn't possibly buy the clothes and other items without his debit card.  He had lost his actual bank account while in rehab because when she divorced him the wife took his share of the money of course. His father had loaned him a bit to get back on his feet, and this was his new card in his new wallet that he had left in the other pair of trousers that he had just changed out of in order to be a bit more presentable at the store.  Walking back to the little flat Wilson seemed both preoccupied and a bit depressed, but who could blame him? It's hard to start over. It's even harder to start over when you shouldn't have had to put yourself through what he had put himself through. He was mad. He had the right to be mad, so he rather indulged a bit on those feelings and no, he didn't see the car speeding around the corner just as he stepped off the curb.  SPLASH! OMG...water went EVERYWHERE and by everywhere, I mean Wilson's only decent pair of "pants" were soaked clean through as were of course his trousers, shirt, socks, and even his light jacket that he hadn't needed to zip up -- there weren't enough words to describe the deep emotional inner voice inside of him that just wanted to scream "NOOOOOOOOO" and be done with it. 

    Arriving back home more angry, more wet, more or less pissed to the point of kicking anything or anyone that dared to cross his path, Wilson reminded himself over and over again that he was a Christian man, and this was just a fantastic phase, it was a real opportunity to seek a little deeper, to love and praise, to think good things, to send out worshipping whispers, and yes, it took every last ounce of control he had within his body to do just that.  He must have missed his dad, not even glancing to see where he may be, Wilson drew a bee-line to the bathroom, undressed and showered. Allowing the hot steaming water to rush and run over his tired and absolutely irritable body and soul. He wanted to lay down and throw a tantrum, that would have actually felt pretty good, but he just leaned his weight against the wall of the shower and let the water cure him. 

    Dad came to the hall, realizing his son was in the shower, and just opened the door enough to collect his clothes for the washer. I think he may have said something about Wilson being back sooner than he thought, maybe he asked about the purchases, not seeing the bags, and yeah, he took the dirty wet clothes and threw them on top of the half filled basket already in his collected arms. Upon leaving the shower and wrapping a towel about his waist, Wilson made it to the hallway, looking both ways thinking he thought he heard his dad, but not really making more of an effort than grunting under his breath about this or that.  Once in his little room the towel hit the floor and Wilson began digging through the otherwise tiny pile of his secondhand clothes that were given to him upon his leaving of the center. One or two other men who had been about his size had donated the clothes to him hoping to cheer him up a bit since everything he owned had been thrown out by the more than thoughtless spouse. She couldn't even see fit to let him have his own things.  

    Having not accepted any pants from the men, Wilson continued to dig around the pile of clothes seeking and hoping to find his own underwear but not really seeing them - - his head on a swivel, glancing to the left, glancing to the right, and then it happened.  He was literally ZAPPED out of his room, out of his dad's flat, out of his country, out of everything imaginable and there was literally no time between the zapping and the replacement, he was just THERE. Where? Where was he? Good question. He was in my living room, that's where he was, and yes, he was naked. 

    Keep in mind that Wilson and I have never actually met each other. We know each other. We haven't talked on the phone. We haven't been friends. We haven't really even been communicating in the past year or so since he was in the center.  He read my blogs from time to time, and often, to be honest, he was angry about what I had written. He wasn't necessarily a fan, let's put it that way. I had a way of being honest and he had a way of avoiding conflict. He and I didn't have the conflict, no, he had the conflict singularly, absolutely in and with himself about me.  He couldn't understand and he refused to try to understand, that a person (me) could love someone like him without being sexual, and without being possessive. He had a problem understanding that a person like me (actually me) would have a command and/or directive from God (not man) to pray for and to encourage him (Wilson) without the side issues of being in love, infatuated, or otherwise dreamy eyed and upside down with emotion. Well, that would be his cross to bear, not mine.

    Glancing around, still glancing, that one, he didn't know where he was. He didn't recognize the wall art. He didn't understand why the sun was still shining when it was clearly setting at the time the car had splashed water all over his body, and that's when he noticed the digital clock on the wall -- it was 3:12 p.m. and when he had climbed into the shower he remember hearing his dad's mantle clock strike the hour of 9:00 p.m.  What the hell just happened?  It was about this time, maybe what, four seconds post-teleportation, when Wilson realized he was standing wherever he was, butt-naked. Some say buck-naked, but he was thinking more along the lines of butt-exposed-front-exposed naked, that and his hair and beard were still wet. What happened?

    OK, there was so much more that took place, but the whole gist of this story is this; I saw the man standing in my living room and rather than scream and freak out I realized he needed to be covered. I immediately sat down my green tea that I had just fixed and I moved past him, all the while talking to him, and reassuring him that however he managed to find his naked self into my living room this fine late spring afternoon, I was not only going to accept him into my home, I was going to receive him into my home, and the two things are very different.  I managed to find a robe for him that I rarely even use but own, and it did cover him. 

    Laughingly amused obviously by the story that certainly had to be told, I walked into my bedroom, into the closet, and I pulled out a box labeled "Wilson" on the side of it. I had months previously been told of God that I may very well need to prepare for an off-the-wall situation, one that required me to be alert and yes, I had gone to the store and picked up a pair of sweat pants, underwear, a man's XL tee-shirt and a pair of socks. I think I actually bought a 4 pack of underwear and a 6 pack of socks, but in the box was just enough to clothe a man who may or may not just happen to pop into my apartment in need - - and yeah, because God had directed me to do so, I bought the items needed to dress that very man who actually popped into my living room in very much need.

    Wilson stared at me with extreme anger and disbelief.  Because (BECAUSE) I had presented him with the best gesture of goodwill known, he accused me of teleporting him, or somehow having the ability to do so, and it was literally my doing, my fault, my scheming, and my obsession that forced him to be taken from the safety of his father's house to this, a place he would never have imagined to have come to, and to be with me, a person he would NEVER have accepted or received had the tables been turned. OK....so, what does that tell you? He's an ass and I still love him to the point of praying that God will show him that he's exposed not only physically, but emotionally, and he needs to be protected, prayed over, and given what he needs to function. I was the culprit in his eyes, and he was the one God had asked me to care for in my eyes.

    The What If factor comes into play here.  What if I had been zapped butt-naked into his father's home? Would I have been received? Possibly by his father who would have been cordial, sweet natured, and curious as to what was happening, but I know I would have been forcefully escorted out of the nearest door by Wilson.  The police would have been called. I would have been labeled an exhibitionist even though in reality I had been teleported without my knowledge, and into a place where I had no control. The WHAT IF factor comes into play here in that what if Wilson's daughter had been zapped into my house instead of himself? I would have been accused of being a kidnapper, a pedophile, and somehow I would have been labeled a stalker - - even though she was zapped into my place without my consent, and without my blessing.  Now, flip that. He was zapped into my apartment. He was standing in my living room naked. I didn't call the police. I didn't scream. I didn't accuse him of misconduct. He was the one blaming me. Even as I handed him the clothes, and was trying to explain to him that months before God had directed me to not only buy the articles, but to write the event in my journal. I was still be blamed for the actual teleportation.

    My saving grace in this entire matter was that I don't even remotely understand quantum physics and I wouldn't have a clue how to draw up a scheme to somehow transfer a person's body from one spot to the other. Here's another WHAT IF.  What if he had been zapped to another house instead of mine? What if he had been taken to his music producer's house where there is a wife, kids, and possibly neighbors having a block party?  Would he have been accepted? Would he have been received? Cared for? Protected?  What if he had been zapped into the London Heathrow airport? Maybe Asda? Maybe a nursery school?  No!  There was ONLY ONE PLACE that man could have been teleported to and have received the care and necessary compassion where he received it -- and that's with me. Even his own cousins would have betrayed him, taken photos of him, posted these photos and made dreadful fun of him. Given his situation with the recent stay at the center, he could have been rearrested, given 5-10 years for exposing himself and more - - even though it wasn't his choice and he had no control. God knew exactly where to send the man.

    I convinced Wilson to take a seat, have some dinner, and drink some tea. I think I even offered him a bit of Melatonin (10 mg) to calm his mind and take the edge off the twitching and the tightening of his shoulders and arms. He was scared and with good reason.  His phone was back in Scotland, and he didn't know his dad's phone number, but using Facebook he was able to reach his dad and get through to him. His dad called my phone and the two talked for a while about what had just happened. It was decided NOT to tell anyone because he could face legal ramifications for having "flown" to the U.S. without a passport. His father put a box together with a few things including his wallet, passport, and new clothes, clothes his father purchased for the box before sending it through Amazon to my place. Wilson, after three days of being heard, listened to, pampered, fed, understood, and we'll go ahead and say being befriended, decided that I wasn't the complete and utter enemy he may have believed me to be. He once had mentioned to me that he knew I wasn't an enemy, but he didn't feel comfortable talking to me about personal issues. I get that.  What if?  What if I was the only one to really understand? 

    So many of our friends fall off the "friends" lists and the "follows" when or if they get wind of hearing that you've done time for petty felonies and/or harder misdemeanors. Not wanting to give you the benefit of the doubt or even listen to your explanation, an employer will let you go, fire you, terminate you, even ask you to never contact anyone from the company again, just because you screwed up and had to spend a little time incarcerated or maybe on the community services list. You tell your employer you need off to do community service and guess what, you're no longer employed.  Friends and family find reasons to not communicate. Hell, even church members shun you, ignore you, or they put that pious face on and say they'll pray for you, but ask them to hold your hand and pray, and yeah, that's not happening.  What if you were zapped away and taken to the ONE place you would never have imagined being at on your own, and with the one person you've put blame on for so long (because others told you to) that you began to listen to the lies?

    Well...here's the thing; it was a dream.  I know it was a dream, it wasn't real, but I would like to think that Wilson (if in real life) would begin to understand that I'm there to help, not to hinder.  Since the whole thing was so realistic and strangely rational, I decided to do what I think would be best. I went to Walmart and bought a pack of underwear (XL boxer briefs) a pair of sweats (also XL) and a man's tee-shirt with short sleeves. I figure if it's cold outside and he may need another shirt I can find a sweatshirt hanging in the closet that my son left behind. I bought socks too. I have them in the box, and yes, I even wrote the man's name on the box - - sort of a joke really, but not really, because if anyone is going to be teleported into my house and cosplay as Naked Bearded Man, I really wouldn't mind it being - - well, we'll call him Wilson.

Photo Credit: Tech Co

    

I Decided to Play Nice.

 On or about September 29, 2021, I was teaching, and I was pretty much making plans to leave the district at the Christmas break because I had just about had enough of what was happening at the school where I was teaching and with the administration/district.  I live in a state where the is NO MASK MANDATE but the school districts around the state (all Democrat) put up such a stink about everyone wearing masks, and being vaccinated, that anyone (me and a few others) who refused to comply with their stupid and demonic rules, were ostracized and forced to endure rather overt bullying from students, parents, other teachers, administration and board members. Forget that that Governor of our state and the mayor of our city had stated in writing (and yeah, put it into law) that no business (including schools) could force their employees to wear a mask.  Forget that the masks don't work. Forget that it was and is a complete joke to think that the masks work.  I said no. 

    I went to my doctor and I asked him to write a note stating that I had asthma and couldn't wear a mask. He had no problem writing the note. He asked me if I could send him more people to write notes for because as a doctor, a medical doctor, he knew that masks were useless and he was personally tired of the hoax and lies being perpetrated on people.  He was tired of the fear mongering, the threats, and like I said, the bullying.  You would never have imagined in a million years, how much BULLYING there is against teachers in the schools these days.  Teachers (good ones) are hard to come by now, but that doesn't stop the administration and staff from pushing and prodding, poking, and making fun of anyone whose opinion is different from their left-winged agenda. It's amazing how those of us who know the facts are sidelined and told we really don't matter if we don't agree and vote their way. What happened to diversity? What happened to being inclusive? What happened to their precious tolerance? Yeah, joke!

    Anyway, about 2 days before the deadline of October 1, 2021, wherein the district wanted 100% of the teachers to prove they were vaccinated, I was released from my job.  This was the funny part -- they couldn't tell me why.  They came up with a half-baked story about a blog I wrote about killing people; OK.  I'm a writer. They knew this. Hell, I gave the principal and the Vice-Principal copies of my book before they hired. me. They knew I murdered people in print. Two days from the day I was released was the last day that a teacher could be vaccinated and receive a $1000.00 THANK YOU bonus for having agreed to poison themselves with a needless and reckless vaccine that is still not FDA regulated for anything other than emergency use, and being a teacher in a school is NOT an emergency. Not if I can walk into a gym, into a store, into a church, into a restaurant, into a stadium full of fans. The mask they force someone to wear from 7-3 (Oh, except when you're eating because you know C0ViD doesn't attack you if you're sitting down and eating or drinking) will NOT stop a virus. The mask I wore for 2 minutes while they were deciding if my letter was legitimate, had holes in it and you could tell I didn't put any effort into trying to comply; however, it was a mask, and they allowed it. SO WHAT THE HELL are they really saying? 

    Anyway, I was released and put on Administrative Leave. I was paid and I kept my full range of benefits until the last day of the semester, which ended December 31, 2021.  During the Admin. Leave I was supposed to have been given a fair and speedy investigation but due to the various schedules of the district members and Fall break, I was asked if they could overstep the 10-day allotted timeline to have a hearing. I didn't mind. I'm being paid.  I agreed to the postponement of the hearing and met with the Superintendent and his sidekick at their earliest convenience. Naturally, they had their attorneys draw up an agreement that I would never have agreed to. It was one-sided, outrageously incorrect, and I really took a bit of pleasure laughing at them without my mask while my Oklahoma Educators Association rep gave them an ear full.  He's the best.  We left and they had to re-do their agreement to basically state I agree to stay home and be paid, and that they understand I didn't do a damn thing wrong.  They couldn't use the murder blog as a means to defame me either, as I had already contacted my attorney as a back up in case the OEA rep was unable to get through to them. He was able to make them see the light - - so E.W. wasn't necessary. 

    I signed the agreement stating I was not to blame, they were not to blame, I was being paid, and I kept my benefits. I was not to contact anyone at the school or the district until after 12/31/2021 and that wasn't really an issue or a problem because I really didn't have any friends at the school. I had a few kids that would have wondered what really happened, but kids are resilient, and they forget you as soon as the semester is over anyway. It sucked that I was being accused of nothing but I understood. They had to play their hand and I just trumped them...I wanted to use the word TRUMP.  See how I did that? At least I kept my sense of humor.

    I decided to play nice and not blast them a new one after January 1, 2022. I decided to not contact the kids, not contact the parents, not contact the teachers who may or may not have cared. I didn't need to sue anyone since we all kept our end of the agreement. They paid me and I sat at home not teaching. I slept in, I worked on my SIE studies, I passed the exam, and I accepted a better paying job that started literally the day they returned to school on January 3, 2022.  I'm at home being a Financial Advisor Associate working with insurance products currently, and in about six months I'll transfer into the mutual funds arena - - stocks and bonds, foreign exchanges, futures, options...I can't wait. It was a good plan from the beginning.  I knew I was leaving them after the break anyway, but this gave me the opportunity to stay home, be paid, study, pass the exam and get the coveted head start on my new life.

    Several students did reach out to me through social media, but I did not respond. I wrote a little blog explaining I couldn't respond to anyone. That way if they read it they knew I couldn't respond. There's always a way to do something if you really want to do something.  The poor kids were lamenting about how the new teacher this or that - - yeah, well, while I was there I didn't really get the respect I think a teacher deserves either - - so maybe they should be asking themselves if they didn't bring this on themselves. I think it was a student who tried to get me fired in the first place claiming she was frightened by my writings - - yeah, OK.  Grow up kid.  I think the saddest part is I really liked most of the kids and a few of the teachers too. I could have stayed if the administration had a backbone or if the district was willing to follow the law.  Since they weren't up to par I didn't need to play the round.

    I'm pretty happy with my choices. Teachers are leaving the profession by the droves. It's not just in Oklahoma, they are leaving all over the nation. Education is just not what it used to be. As teachers our hands are tightly tied, we have very little say in any of the processes. We don't really even get to teach anymore. We have to meet agendas. We have to meet standards. There are metrics to meet. Kids are numbers to them, and we're forced to comply; or leave.  I left.  I could be really nasty I suppose, and I could bring the evidence, but you know what, I think I'll let the parents be parents and find out for themselves - - that is if they care! (That was the other real issue we have as educators...parents not parenting) Really sad, but really real.  Good bye classroom, hello Jude.

Photo Credit: Times Higher Education

That Nineveh Moment.

 Oh, let's just for the sake of argument say that you're lying there, minding your own business, and God decides you need to do something for Him.  He's God, right? He can do that. He can just simply "decide" that you need to do something. You don't have to do it, no, you actually have a choice in the matter. Jonah certainly opted to opt out, and well - - choices have consequences, don't they?  

    I said that God decides to do something with you - or have you do something for Him. What I should have said was God commissions you to do something for Him; He doesn't decide really, because the entire plan, every last point of His plan, has been planned, has been decided, has been in motion since well before you were born. You were, as it were, part of the overall plan. Therefore, it goes without saying that whatever it is that God has planned for you, with you, and involving you, will in fact take place. You may not arrive there in the fashion you thought you were going to arrive, but you will make it to your personal Nineveh, you can take that to the celestial bank! 

    Let's just say, again, for argument's sake, that God has asked you (commissioned you) to be in the prison ministry. Remember, I'm just pulling this example out of thin air. I'm not picking on anyone in particular, but hey, if you feel the guilt inside your soul when I say that...so be it.  You're laying there, again, minding your own business, maybe making plans to pick up your guitar and strum a few old chords to try and make them make a bit of sense, when out of NO WHERE, your heart thinks a thought and your brain disagreed.  Your heart stated that you should be in the prison ministry, you know it, it's rather obvious to you, but your brain and your common sense kick in and they start debating with your goodness. The reasons and the excuses you find tend to make sense the longer you fight with yourself too.  You haven't really heard what you thought you heard. You haven't really felt what seemed real and poignant. You must have been side-dreaming; dreaming on the weak side of your noggin while the smarter more intuitive side was taking a break...no, you shake it off. That was a wild and crazy thought!

    It may have been a thought, but it may have been the Holy Spirit too. You know the drill. I say you know the drill. If you're a Christian, and you've been accepting the love, protection and blessings of the Spirit for a while, you understand what it feels like to have a word sent to you thorough heart-mail. Heart-mail is that unmistakeable gut feeling that your life is about to take a twist and holding on for dear life is one option, but letting go and giving it to God is the one you're supposed to choose.  Let go. 

    You check again, and you realize that the message was clear enough, but now you have to find a way to convince the spouse; maybe others.  You can't do this on your own. That's what you tell yourself, but instead of putting your best foot forward you end up sticking that foot right up your own ass! Don't you? Well, Jonah thought he could get on that first rate ship to Tarshish too. He had a plan, the problem with his plan, and the problem with YOUR plan is that it goes against the other plan. The one you know you're supposed to do.  (Is it too close to home to ask for an "Amen" at this point? Am I the one striking chords at this moment?) I'm not even asking for a friend - - friend. 

    Traveling by boat would probably have been the method Jonah could have and should have taken. He wasn't standing anywhere near Nineveh when God gave him the directive.  He ended up on a boat, a rather nice one too, but he didn't stay on it now, did he?  His plan to continue his concert tour, write music for others, sing and perform for the masses took a sideswipe the second the ship's first mate unhitched the ropes from the dock.  I think Jonah may have forgotten that it was God who made the trees that made the boat.  It was God who made the hemp that made the ropes. It was God who made the water that held the boat afloat, and yes, you guessed it, it was God who made the first-class whale that came along and carried out the mission that ultimately was going to be carried out no matter what method of travel or personal agenda Jonah may have believed he had the right to adhere to. (This is where it gets a little crazy.  I bet this wasn't Jonah's first rodeo -- he knew better.)

    Let's go back to the prison ministry analogy. Maybe you're supposed to be there singing, writing, talking, communing, worshipping, witnessing, and listening to men give their confessions before God. Maybe you thought you couldn't do that on the budget or salary limitations you were handed. Maybe you thought it wasn't easy to get to all those places, and your car wasn't the best, and you aren't the best driver, and time wasn't on your side, there were just too many things that needed your attention.  Did you forget that God made the asphalt that made the roads? Did you forget that God made the time you thought you could waste? Did you forget that your voice, your ears, your eyes, your hands, your life is not yours but has been bought with a price? Did you think you wouldn't make it to the VERY PLACE you were told to go? You made it. We all make it. We all have our Ninevehs and we all have our Nineveh moments. Some of us learn to swim with the fishes; while others learn to bunk with the bullies, but we make it to the Nineveh we were told to go to. EVERY TIME.

    What now?  Well, that's pretty simple really.  You wait.  You wait on God to give you the word. You wait on God to bring you the service. You wait on God to provide every last detail because that was (and has been) the plan all along. Your spouse (and no one else for that matter) should NOT have a word to say if God has ordained the plan for you. You don't worship your spouse do you? You don't count on anyone else to bless and fulfill your needs. You don't pray to the spouse, you don't give homage to them either. If they were the loving and surrendering soul they swore to be, you wouldn't have to beg or plead. You have a mission - - you will achieve it; one way or the other. In fact, hasn't this method you chose been a bit harder on them than it would have been if you had just taken the path of obedience? Funny, how it works that way. 

    My Nineveh? Oh, I said yes. I didn't argue. I was more than willing to just jump on the right ship and head off for smooth sailing(s).  I have to admit the water has been a bit rough lately since the man I was commissioned to pray for has decided to bulk at his directive, but that's the thing -- my assignment is to keep the router steady. I'm supposed to force that thing deep into the waters and hold it hard enough to cut through the current and keep my eyes on the horizon. My assignment is to steer, pray for, love, encourage, fight for, defend, and sometimes even explain why it is that I just refuse to stop pushing. Someone has to push - - I'm just really good at it; that's probably why God was gracious and gave me THIS particular assignment. He knew (in His great wisdom) that I could handle the push back, the backlash, the name calling, the misconceptions, the skepticism.  I can handle it. I know the way to Nineveh...I've been there a few times. I've never had the privilege to go by whale belly, but I have hit the rocks a few times and skinned up my knees. Bruises hurt; they hurt enough that I didn't really want to do more self affliction. Nope. Listening to God is honestly, and I mean this, the only way to go.

    Sir, friend, you too will be fine. You will make it through. You will shine again. You will be the man you are now, and so much more -- do you know why? Because you are not your own, and God does not, and God has not ever, made a mistake.  Get up off your ass and set your course for Nineveh. You're not alone. If you need help I'm just a few clicks away -- but then again, you know that. For argument's sake let's just say you decide to listen this time. I am the one smiling because of it. God's got this. Let Him fight your battles, He's never lost one yet.

Photo Credit: Etsy

    

Good Decisions. Sometimes I Make Them.

 For instance, right now I'm writing this blog with my mouth crammed full of iced animal crackers, and I believe in my soul that this was (and is) an awesomely great decision. There simply aren't that many simple pleasures in this world that can beat the feeling one has when they're chomping down on six or seven little animal cracker figures at the same time. Nope, it's one of those things you have to experience and even if I were to go into my thesaurus and pull out a lot of really cool (awesomeness) adjectives to describe said mouthful of wonderness, you would still need to experience it for yourself. This is just one example of the best decision making functions my brain engages in from time to time. Follow me for more great determinating adjudications in your life.

    Today, after turning down yet another "opportunity" to be a commission sales agent, I realized that my recent acceptance of a full time at home work position, wherein I am selling insurance, was actually a great decision. I was a bit upset with myself at first for being nearly forced (by time) to accept the open position. I was upset because I have just (also recently) passed the SIE exam, the exam you need to apply for entry level positions in finance.  I had just passed the exam, and I have been applying non-stop for said entry level positions, but because of the Christmas and New Year timing, I knew it would be a minute before companies got around to hiring new hires and putting any real effort into training them to become the best assets on the planet.  I guess I knew this, but I was hoping that things were going to be a bit different for me this time around - - hope is a good thing. It's not always wise to depend on it, but it is a good thing.  Nothing changed.

    Because I hadn't heard from any reputable companies that wanted to start a new hire out with a base salary, and because I couldn't get anyone who remotely fit my idea of what reputable meant, I decided to take the bird in the hand job that was offered to me, even though I wasn't thrilled about being an insurance sales agent again.  I wanted to think I had put that part of my life behind me; sometimes the unexpected is the best thing.  I unexpectedly found that the job I accepted was really the better choice for what I need and want at this particular moment.  I need time to relax and settle from all the study I put in for the SIE, but I also need time to study for the next steps.  I needed money while I was studying next steps, and I wasn't getting that from the trees outside, nor were the fish in the pond showing any real promise - - (that's a Jesus reference in case you missed it.) I had to find actual work.

    I accepted an at home position that didn't pay as much, but hey, it's at home. I can make bonuses and I can work Monday through Friday without putting in any time over the weekends.  My hours aren't set yet, and I'm in negotiations with the company over those, but I think it will be at least tolerable for now. I can always put in for new hours later down the road, and who knows, it may work out for the best. I just like earlier hours so I can be done with it and I can start the studying process.  Then again, if I work later hours I can study in the mornings when there is sunlight! God has a plan. I just have to figure out where I fit into it. He's not going to change. I have to be the one to get on board.  I know this. I also thank Him for it because most the time - - OK, all the time - - His plans rock, and I suck at controlling my life. There, I said it.

    Here it is, day four of training and guess what, I'm already being called upon to give not only instruction, but to assist some of the new agents with understanding lingo, terminology, analogies and what they can actually expect from inbound callers needing insurance.  I've been there. I've done that. The trainer(s) is/are really great, but with 22 students it can become overwhelming when 19 of them are newly licensed to sell life insurance and have zero actual experience. The trainer(s) can use all the help they can get.  I don't mind. It makes me feel useful. The other thing is, (and I may have smiled) that I found out that the company I accepted the position with also has an assets management division and after I've been with my team for six months I can put in for a transfer.  Hey, that's about the same time as I was expecting to finish the study for the Series 66 test!  That's gonna work out -- perfectly.  Did I mention God was really good at what He does? He is.

    Today, after work, I pulled out the big fat book of learning and decided to read a few pages. I was correct in my thinking regarding the sunlight. By the time I got off work there wasn't any sunlight left, and I had to read by the lamp light. Not fun. I don't like that. I don't learn that well when I don't have real light to help me. It's not that I'm old, I mean I am, but I like the light from the window coming in over my head and shoulders and onto my book - - OK, we'll go with Old Fashioned!  So, if I didn't have to start until around 11:00 a.m. or so and had to work until 8:00 p.m. I would have the morning hours to study and the weekends to shop and run around - - and study. The Series 66 is going to be a monster to finish. I'm doing it my way, through reading, absorbing, note taking, and reiteration. After I get the gist of it down I'll order the study guide online and work through the endless chapters of self-study that you pay for when you get really serious.  It's a proven plan that works. I push myself. I don't need others to kick my butt - - I'm the best butt kicker I know. It will happen.

    So yeah. I may not be making a ton of money right now. Money is never and has never been the motivator in my life. We need money sure, but we don't have to let it define us or make decisions for us. We can use it, and that's what it's there for.  I'll stay where I am for now, study, pass the Series 66, transfer within the company to the asset management division, and BAM....there you go. I'll start out as an entry level warrior, but with a salary, benefits, good relations and friends, and I'll be a part of something I believe in and am (timewise) invested in for myself.  Good plan.  Good good plan. The company also has offices around the world, so yeah, I may put in for another transfer and work in Scotland for a year or so. You just never know - - time will tell, and time will also assist me to be the person I think I should be rather than taking a chance on a maybe. I like solid foundations better. Something about building my house on a rock -- see what I did there? Yeah, another Jesus reference. He's just everywhere!

Photo Credit: Michael Solomon

People, Just Tell the Damn Truth.

 I am so so so very tired of having to drag the truth out of people. It really shouldn't be that hard! If I ask someone a question, and the answer is either going to be a yes or a no, why is it that they seem to want to hedge it, dance around it, or flat out avoid the question by asking me a question that may or may not help them quality (or quantify) their eventual answer? Just answer the damn question, and just tell the damn truth! I tell my kids (and most others) that I don't really care what the answer may be, but make  it the truth.  It can be as ugly as heck, and it can be as complicated as possible, but don't tell me a sweet lie to get rid of me. Don't tell me something that I have doubts about -- because I'm going to dig through it. No matter what I'm told, I'm going to research it and find out if it's the actual truth or not because I am not about to go through the hoops and hollers to defend whatever lie someone thought was a good idea to try and appease me with rather than being up front and truthful. JUST TELL THE DAMN TRUTH.

    Can you imagine how much time we could all save if everyone told the truth to each other? I mean, yeah, it could become really yucky and really sticky, messy, ugly, and even nasty, but at least it would be out there and we could deal with it. Telling lies to cover up what really needs to be said, or what really should be said, only creates a smokescreen that can lead to a chase, to a rabbit hole or two, and then it can circle back and bite someone in the ass; and not in a good way!  I think this blog deserves to be one of those blogs where I give a good example (or two) so my point is made and no one has to guess what it is that I'm ranting about. Are you ready? Let's go.

    I just passed the SIE (Securities Industry Essentials) exam, which is a huge step towards eventually becoming both a wealth manager and a stock trader. My plan is to do more, much more, than just trade stocks, bonds, futures, exchanges, and options. I am truly wanting to help myself and others build up their wealth, keep it, have fun with it, play with it, and even watch it disappear from time to time in order to learn more about making it come back to life in much more grand style than ever before. I want to be both edgy and reliable. I want to be both conservative and risky. I want to build one portfolio while gambling the other (mine, not my client's) and I want to run the race, win the race, come dead last, and fight for the finish line all at the same time. I want to be in and be a part of the open market. It's a good place to play because no two trades are exactly the same. It will be an amazing thing to experience.

    I wanted to pass the SIE so I studied, and I pushed myself. I forged through thick and thin, and I found myself on the losing end a couple of times before I actually passed. Passing the SIE was in fact one of the biggest achievements I've managed to pull off, it was one of those things I had to do, and I did it. I paid for the self study materials, I did the work, I put in the effort and one thing I absolutely never did was lie to myself about the difficulty or the probabilities of the journey. I told myself the freaking truth; and I faced that challenge head on! That's the way it should be. No one should tell you it's a walk in the park; not unless that park is the Grand Canyon, and you're taking that walk in the middle of the winter, in the middle of the night, and your last flashlight just got thrown over the cliff about a mile back. You may have to wait until dawn to finish your trip, but you can do that! You can fight off the wolves, the other wild things that crop up, and you can earn that badge of courage for yourself, but you can't do that if someone lies to you and says it's smooth sailing. Lies.

    So after I passed the SIE the emails started flowing in almost immediately. The state testing centers have a hand-shake with employers and somehow everyone knows when you're sitting the exam, and everyone knows when you pass. Emails start piling up for you, asking you to join the team, asking you to be a part of the new horizon that is endless, that is better than ever, that is your new chapter. Many of these opportunities are commission based. Seems everyone wants to offer you a job if they don't have to pay you anything until you produce for them. They forget about the weeks and weeks of training you'll need to go through, and the fact that you'll go 6-8 weeks without pay and may not be able to force yourself into someone's home these days to make your quota. Because everything has changed in the sales world, most assuredly in the face-to-face sales world, and now since everything is virtual, there are no real leads being handed out because leads are fewer and fewer and the bosses keep those for themselves. 

    Interview after interview I've been meeting with managers and human capital (recruiters) to go over the "opportunity" that they want to offer me now that I'm more worthy than I was when I wasn't SIE certified. Forget that I have more than 30 years of insurance sales under my belt. Forget that I owned my own business. Forget that I hold an advanced degree in Administration; all they want from me is the commitment to give them 200+ names and the promise that I'll try to sell THEIR products to my friends and family first, then build up MY BOOK OF BUSINESS with their long arms attached under a contract that states if I don't meet their bottom line, their set quotas, and their metrics, I forfeit not only my leads, but I can't work for another company that would want my 200+ names of friends and family if I thought I could get a better deal with the company that didn't terminate me and steal my leads.

    I guess these people must run across an idiot every day that doesn't know their game. I think they think no one can catch up to or onto their stories, their tales.  I suppose I'd be lying myself if I said I didn't learn this and other lessons the hard way - - over and over and over again I had to learn through knocks and falls. I was that little naive agent who just believed every last word that was vomited out of the mouth of my supervisor. I trusted, and I trusted, and for years upon years, I defended. No more. At this point I have earned the right to ask questions and demand answers. I have earned the right to demand quotas, commissions, salary bases, benefits, leads, better hours, and no metrics that can't be achieved with a standard amount of time and effort. We can't force people to buy our products, and since I won't lie to folks about the features and benefits of said products, and I won't horse-collar someone who doesn't want to make a decision on the spot, I guess employers just don't want me asking probing questions when I interview with them. Hey fellas, it goes both ways. It's a two-way street. I have what you need, you have what I need, so we sit down and make a deal -- you don't call the shots this time.

    I don't have to work for anyone these days. I may have to be appointed to take the Series 7, but I can pay a company to appoint me and take the exam and then start my own business. I can align myself with an ethical company and make demands if I have the goods and experience to back up my ask. I do have the goods and they're only going to get better - - more goods. Better goods. My turn!  Don't tell me the job is salary based and then I do a bit of research to find out it's a draw on what I submit. Don't tell me I'd be an employee but then your HR department emails me a 1099 to fill out.  Don't tell me I will earn XX$$ and then show me the metrics and requirements I'd have to meet to get to that level, oh, but hey, here's the ACTUAL numbers of the ACTUAL past 50+ employees that we didn't follow through with, and didn't show the ropes to.  No.  Sorry, but my time is worth more. My experience is worth more. My ethics, my goals, my standards, my plan to help and serve others is worth so much more! 

    Tonight I asked a manager of a major insurance and investment firm to answer a few of my questions. He stated we can "go over that in the next interview".  My answer was, "Sir, there won't be a next interview if you don't answer my questions."  He agreed. We decided I wouldn't be a fit. He thinks he dodged a bullet - - he lost an opportunity he can never have again. I still have my list, I still have my skills, I still have my drive, I still have my experiences. I'll just find someone who will be willing to be honest and not try to buffalo me into selling an insurance product to hedge a wealth issue. I think it's time we take the bull by the horns, don't you? Speaking of bulls -- that's where my heart really lies! I am a Bullish trader, not a Bearish one.  I believe in the upswing. I believe in the come back. I look for the goodness and the improvement; I wish others had the same outlook. The markets will swing, and they will swing both ways, but if you have to pick one side I'll take the Bull every time. (That doesn't mean I won't sell short to protect what I just bought.) I'm not stupid.

Photo Credit: The Medic Portal

Goodbye 2021 - Hello 2022!

 Last year my daughter and I raced over to Barnes & Noble to get new 2021 calendars only to find out that we had to pay full price for them. That wasn't fun. We expected that on the last day of the year we would have been able to find new calendars for the next year at 50% off their regular prices. I can't remember where we ended up, it may have been that we waited a few days and went back to Barnes & Noble when they did have their calendars and planners on sale. I don't remember, but I do remember the calendar I bought because in May 2020 my sweet dog George, a red/brindle colored Miniature Dachshund, had passed away.  The calendar I bought honored and reflected my genuine love for the dog. It was called "Hot Dog Yoga - The Happiness you Longggggg For" it was simply amazing!  Little red dogs doing basic and complicated yoga stances, and the descriptions were too funny.  Oh, George would have loved it.

    So, I grabbed the calendar from the closet just now, after thinking about throwing it out, but not bringing myself to do so. I looked at each month slowly and intentionally so I could reflect on what took place each and every month.  It's amazing what you don't remember when people ask you what happened over the past year.  If I had not written it down on a few of the more memorable dates, I literally would have only remembered people's birthdays, anniversaries and perhaps their day of death. We had a couple this past year that were really sad, but only for us, because each of the wonderful people in my life who passed were Christians. They are celebrating the new year in real style.

    Here we go, what took place in 2021 that is worth remembering? To start off with, I weighed 26 pounds more last year at this time than I do now. Wow, that's a total of 52 pounds lost since August 3, 2020. In early February I freaked a man out (online) when I wished his young daughter happy birthday. Why people don't realize what they post in previous years won't be seen in more recent years and why they happen to think that what they post will only be seen by those they know personally, I have no idea. I think the man has learned a bit about posting about his family. I am glad I could be of assistance with that. LOL...poor man.  Also in February, I began my study for the SIE (Securities Industry Essentials) exam, which I didn't pass in April, but did in December. Good start, rough spring and summer, but let me tell you, the deed is done!! I am SIE certified. 

    In March, besides being my son's birthday on the 22nd (Turn about is fair play, I figure I should let the man get even with me...go ahead Tex...wish my son a big day, we're good) I also started an 8-week course with a great clinic that did light treatments for weight loss and the red lights also reduced my body 8%. It was amazing!!  I wish I could afford to buy the $15,000.00 machine and just keep it here at home and climb into it, wrap up with the light pads and zap myself into skinnihood. That would be a-mazing. I may have to think about getting one and letting friends use it. I started and stopped KETO in April, it just wasn't working for me. I decided a semi-keto thing was better. I do that still, and I'm not unhappy with it. I'm not thrilled to still be 20-22 pounds over what my goal weight is, but it's getting there. I know that when you're older and when you have less to come off it gets harder and harder. One day at a time folks, one day at a time.

    May was good.  I changed banks back to using my credit union where my car is financed. They are closer to home and just seem a bit more friendly. That, and I didn't have to wear a stupid mask to go into the bank. I dropped the others like a hot potato. I don't wear masks because they don't work. When I was FORCED to wear one to take the SIE exam in April I bitched about it, and pulled it down under my nose. It was a sheer and see-through type anyway, but they didn't care. It was a mask. They met their damn mandate. It's all stupid. May also found me looking for teaching jobs since it didn't look like I would be working in finance without the SIE exam being passed. Yuck and pooey.

    OMG...June was cool. I tried Botox for the first time! That's weird for me.  I think I like it, and I'll do it again in a couple of weeks. It lasted over 5 months, that's not bad. I don't have to be beautiful but if I can be I will be.  June found me using the vibration plate more, walking more, getting the bike out, and really just doing more outdoor activities. I gave up the horse, so I needed to fill that time with something else. Walking it was! I was averaging 12,000+ steps a day, eating right, and really just being as healthy and happy as I possibly could be.  I wasn't working outside of the house, but knew I would be in the later part of the summer. I tried to enjoy myself as much as I could, and again, study as much of the SIE as I could.

    July and August were filled with job interviews, working temp jobs for the Express Personnel. I love Kevin, my employment agent at Express. He finds me fun and exciting jobs for sure. I worked for an ad agency, and I worked for a lawyer for a minute. The lawyer wanted to hire me, but he didn't offer benefits and since I knew I was going to go into finance when the SIE was complete I decided not to take him  up on his offer.  I also thought I would be moving to Scotland in the late fall or early 2022, so that was on my mind as well. If I could find a good position in finance there that wanted to help me move to the land of Heather, that was the ticket -- until it wasn't. No Scotland for me. 

    August-September I worked as a teacher at a certain district which shall not be named. I was a middle school English teacher, and there was a problem with me not wanting to wear the mandated mask. I had not only a doctor's note stating I didn't have to, I had a letter from my preacher stating that we, as Christians, are against covering the image of God, and no one cared at the employment level until I threatened to sue.  I was allowed to not wear the mask for medical exemption, but days later I was asked to leave under strange and mysteriously uninvestigated reasons and circumstances. Days and days went by and they had no answers as to why I was being asked to stay home on administrative leave. Eventually in October I was told I would be allowed to stay home and be paid through the semester, which by the way ended about an hour ago.  I am no longer under their thumb, though they still owe me for my last check - - so I won't really say anything too disparaging until I get that money.

    October, November, and December were FILLED with more than hours and hours upon hours of self study in the SIE world. I was determined to pass the test and I was FLAT OUT crushed in November when I did not pass it. I missed it by literally ONE question. When you pass they don't tell you what your score is, but when you fail they tell you. I would rather have bombed it, tanked it, than to have missed by one stupid question!  I took it again a few weeks later, and passed. I knew I knew the answers. I just got nervous during the test. God was GREAT and helped me recall the actual answers. I was pretty sure I passed with a passing score of around 85-88, but I'll never know. I just tallied up the ones I knew I knew.   Other than cramming and forcing puts, calls, options, futures, equity, debt and debentures into my skull's fleshy tenant, I basically worked out, ate well, baked well, played with grandkids and watched OU football.  It was a good year to be sure.

    What's next? What's on the horizon? Well, I'm still praying for the man I've been praying for since 2019.  He's been experiencing a bit of a physical and mental setback, so he's been on my mind and spirit for about six months. I'll continue to lift him to Jesus and see his full recovery I hope! That's #1 in my heart right now. There are no goals really, just to continue to lift him, and hope to hear more from him as to how he's doing.  I passed the SIE and accepted a position with a finance company as an insurance advisor for now, but will continue to interview and seek permanent and full time employment in finance advisory, finance consulting, but I need to be trained to do that. I am now studying the Series 66 and then the Series 7 test guides so that I can pass those and be absolutely desirable for some fantastic investment group such as Fidelity, Chase, Morgan Stanley, Dean Witter, you know, those types. I have my ears to the ground and my prayers to the Lord. It will happen.

    Weight wise? I'll lose 20-22 more pounds, tone up, tighten up, pump it up, and be really strong soon. I'm hoping to get a downstairs apartment soon so I can jump rope and not scare the neighbors. I have to go outside currently to do it. I really don't mind because the neighbors take bets on when I'll stop; it's fun to help one or the other out from time to time if I know what's being bet - - especially if I can get in on the action too!  I'll keep the smile plastered to my face, listen to Celtic worship and Celtic Worship. You have to know those are two different things. I will learn to play guitar perhaps - - and if not, I will pretend that I do.  I'm OK with a little fantasy - - or even a big round bellied bearded one, as long as he's smiling and swinging his kilt around in the air. Woot!

Happy NEW YEAR!!

Photo Credit: Pinterest 

My Yoga Pants are Inside Out (a Reflection)

 There I was, you know me, minding my own business, because you know, that's what I do. I was stretching, leaning, basically making myself as uncomfortable as I possibly could after having finished a 30 minute power walk, a  fast and easy few-minutes session on the vibration plate using a 10-pound bar, when I realized, quite unmistakably that my yoga pants were in deed inside out. Yep, that's me, walking around the hood, even the grocery store, being seen, waving at everyone, just you know, hanging with the peeps completely unaware that my yoga pants were literally inside out. The only excuse I have is that I have no real excuse. I was just in a hurry. I will say that I laughed at myself. I nearly strained a muscle after I laughed but yeah, I did find it pretty humorous that my wardrobe (on the next to the last day of the year) pretty much summed up my 2021.  How about you? Are you relating to me right now?

    My dog (Ginger) gets a little too excited when she sees me slip my house shoes on because she knows we're about to take a hike. It's not much of a hike when I wear them, maybe just a few laps around the complex, but she's gonna see people, meet and greet other dogs. I wanted to make it a quick thing so I could get back to the business of being fit, but she needed to go. She's gonna ignore my pleas to hurry things along, she's gonna smell things...everything.  For her it's a bathroom break deluxe when we go outside together.  Her "toilet" is the world! She could go anywhere and does, without any hesitation unless you count the endless moments she actually takes to sniff the ground before squatting. That can take a minute.  She's not the fastest pisser in the West. 

    When we got back today from the morning jaunt, she and I prepared ourselves for the real stuff. First, the breakfast shake, then the light stretching before we both stand on the vibration plate from anywhere between 10-15 minutes. I typically dance a little, bend and move that butt around while she jumps on and off of the plate barking at it. She's been on it for over a year now, but she still likes to tell it off for shaking her booty as much as it does. When you bend over on the thing you can really feel it in your back, so I like to do that to loosen up the lower extremities.  Next, after the plate, is the all-important-never-to-be-skipped yoga mat where doggy-down is the first stance both Ginger and I take before seriously getting twisted and trying to out do one another. It may or may not be advised to try an outdo your dog on a yoga mat. I'm not a doctor of medicine, but I will say that the work out is often more rewarding when you're accompanied by a good (and quite limber) friend. Ginger wins most of the time.

    So, I am in the middle of a butt tightening exercise; the one where you sit up on your knees with your hands in front of you, and you put one of your legs out (extending it as far as you can) and then you draw it back in, do this several times, and then you switch legs. You know the one.  I put the right leg out to my side and saw the outline of my pocket. My pocket was closed up. My pocket was not accessible. My pocket was on the outside of my leg. I'm not kidding you,  I still had my leg extended while I was looking at my pocket in complete confusion. Ginger barked. I came to my senses, and I lowered my leg.  My yoga pants were, and had been, inside out. Wow. Yeah. Wow.

    Rather than take them off, turn them around and redress myself, I just sort of shrugged my tired aching shoulders and continued my torture. What's another few minutes if I've already gone all morning with my unbelievably unaware self? No worries. I'll blame it on the launching and preparation of the new 5G radiation exposure we're all about to be subjected to. Come to think about it, maybe I actually can blame my behavior (or lack thereof) on the radiation - - it makes sense to me. Sure, I can do that. So after the next few minutes of lifts, twists, dance moves, dog lifting, and a few jumps of the heavy rope, I decided to turn my yoga pants to their rightful position, but then realized I had to take them off anyway to shower. I mean, I didn't have to. I could leave them on I suppose. Why not? That's the sort of year I've had; I may as well end it in the same "fashion". 

    January started out pretty good. I had lost quite a bit of weight, I was really excited about my future as an at-home insurance advisor, but the company bailed and I was forced to find not-so great work, but at least I was working. I think working trumps being poor and begging on the streets any day. February through May went well weight and diet wise, I even managed to generate more work leads and keep my head afloat.  With all the pandemic lags and restrictions, I wasn't able to study for the SIE exam the way I wanted to in the spring, so come April when I took the test, I bombed it. I sucked!! I can't tell you how badly I sucked, I'm  not sure there's a case study for that sort of thing. Let's just say I had no business thinking I could sit that test in April.

    Over the summer months I was able to study a bit more, but with the horses, the kids, life, and a few other things kicking into gear, my study was put on hold. August rolled around and rather than accept a training position with a company that demanded I wear a mask, I accepted a teaching job, only to be told I had to wear a mask after being hired. No worries, my doctor gave me an exemption letter - - so did my pastor, but the school wasn't too keen to exempt someone from wearing a mask on religious grounds. I was exempt from wearing my mask, but just two or three days later I was released from work under suspicious and strange circumstances. Though I am prohibited from going into the details, the end result was that I was released from work, but still got paid! That's always nice. I even got a statement from the school district stating that the issue was resolved, no one was to be blamed, it just didn't work out the way they intended. Whatever that means. Just pay me, I'm good.

    The best part about being home with pay was that I could actually put my mind to work on the SIE exam study, which I did, and I passed that exam just a couple of weeks ago. SUPER excited. SUPER happy. You can't count me as being any more thrilled than what I was the moment I saw the word "PASS" on that FINRA exam.  With the SIE under my belt I can study for the Series 66/7 and trade to my heart's desire. My basic plan is to keep a stable portfolio for myself, and have a side gig with risky crazy penny stock trading to build up the portfolio and/or just have fun. I'm looking forward to losing as much as I am looking forward to earning. If I lose I gain knowledge. You can't buy knowledge, but you can sure learn from expenditures! Lessons are lessons and I'm willing to learn - - even with my pants on backward! That would have actually been a bit odd, not gonna lie - - I would have HOPEFULLY noticed that. 

    What an appropriate close to an awkward and confusing year. What an amazing start to an incredibly good new year. I'm back on track with the dieting, having taken a break to study harder from November to now. I wanted to be fluffy and full for the sitting of the exam, then for my birthday, then Thanksgiving, and into the Christmas holidays. It's a time of year when sugar cookies, gingerbread, and Stollen are just part of the daily diet. I don't mind the cheat, it means I am now able to start over and have the best of times with bringing it all full circle. Being back on track means I'll have a more focused mind and maybe I'll actually notice next time I have the labels of my britches sticking out rather than being tucked away - - then again, I could just claim it as a new trend. I'm all about not admitting to losing the game - - just maybe changing up the rules a bit!

Photo Credit: Find You Fit