Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 97

I May Actually be a bit Odd, Come to Think of it.

 I bought the t-shirt that reads "I too am strange and unusual", which was a line out of Beetlejuice. Winona Ryder's character Lydia Deetz proclaims this to be true about herself.  I guess in some ways, I just have to relate. I don't have much of an option. I do things from time to time that certainly set me apart from the rest of the crowd.  I'm not embarrassed by the fact that I don't match my socks. That's one way I suppose my friends can describe me to their other friends. I began not matching my socks in the 3rd grade, which was the same year I decided my name was Jude rather than Judy, and I changed it myself on every paper I turned in at school. I actually refused to respond to the name Judy for many years - - It is what it is. Possibly strange, possibly unusual. 

    Today I was sitting in my big chair with my dog as I do in the mornings, and I began wondering what it was that makes me do things that may seem odd or out of whack to others. It's not as if I wake up and decide intentionally to be odd - - I was born dead; maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe I'm really supposed to be from another era, another time, another place, another world - - or it could just be that I get bored more quickly and don't really care if something is out of place. I don't have a single OCD bone in my body; a fact that actually upsets most of my friends. I have things misaligned, laying about out of place, and from time to time, just to really piss my good friends off, I'll move the corner of a framed painting on the wall, set a book really close to the edge of a shelf, or leave the vacuum cleaner plugged in and standing in the middle of the living room to see if anyone will fix it.  I know, I'm really mean, huh?

    Today I realized that I was cooking with a spoon I happened to have dropped on the floor at least twice when I tried to throw it up and spin it around to see if I could catch it. I did catch it a few times, but not every time, and there I was still using it to cook with - - OOPS.  I didn't wash my strawberries before I ate them, and I used a dirty spoon from last night to stir my coffee this morning. I guess all those years of eating mud pies has actually paid off for me. My immune system must be working. I did, Oh yeah, I did catch the spoon once with my knees! That was unintentional, but it was impressive and I did laugh right out loud - - good on me! What talent.

    I turn books upside down to read them if I think they may be boring because I don't want to not read it just because it may be boring. If I turn it upside down I have to make my mind works a little harder and therefore I tend to remember what it is that I am reading. I do this with study guides mostly, and since I'm learning to speak (actually first to read) Scottish Gaelic, it had to be done. I can now complete my online lessons without too many mistakes, but I can't say the words the way a real live Scottish man or woman would say them. I can't roll my R's and I can't make the cough-hacking sound that I hear so often in both Scottish and also Hebrew.  Sorry folks, this girl is Southern born and Southern bred. I suppose when I do attempt to actually speak Gaelic someday the locals will either get a real kick of it or they'll shake their heads and say something under their breath that I may or may not comprehend.

    My dog thinks I'm weird when I pray because first I go into the closet with my rock in my hand, there's that, but I also make really strange guttural noises to exhale and express any breaths that may not be willing to speak with God. It's a way of cleaning out my spirit and getting myself ready to speak to God; I don't do it all the time, but when I really have something I need to get off my chest and into His heart I make sure there is nothing between us. I seek my soul for every last sin I may have known about and those I don't know about. My dog stares at me, but that's her fault for crawling into the closet with me. She can't stand being outside of it when I'm in it, and it's good for me to have another soul in the closet with me who I know would and will agree with my prayers; God is there when there are two! He never said it had to be another human. My dog is absolutely a follower of Jesus Christ. 

    Being odd has never been an issue for me. I think I thought it was normal that I was the way I am, and if anyone thought otherwise it was them who thought I was odd, not me. If I wasn't accepted by them or by the world at large I never really had a problem with it. That may have been an issue in middle school while growing up because I didn't have to wear the right things, say the right things, be seen with the right people, or do the things others did in order to fit in with the cool kids. I was the one doing gymnastics in the halls and trying to balance on the gutter system without falling off of it. I was the one watching the boys play football in the heat, in the rain, in the snow, in the sleet, in the anything because I liked to watch the boys play football. It didn't matter that no one else was in the stands at practice. I was in the stands and I was watching.  I ate licorice for lunch sometimes. I still do. I make avocado smoothies and mix spinach with pineapple for a great powerful drink. Yeah, I'm not ordinary, I get it, but I'm smiling.

    Being odd today is about the same. I don't do what the world says is the A-list thing to do. When Oprah said she wasn't going to promote my book after her production team had promised me that she would be doing so, I told her I wouldn't be on her show if she couldn't keep her promise. I let my daughters fly to Chicago instead; I keep my word and she should have kept hers. Why should I bend at the knee only to be slapped in the face? Not this girl - - my oddness is my oddness I suppose. I embrace it, and I accept who I am. I know this; I am not afraid to be alone. I like my own company, and if I were a guy I'd marry me. I really would - - I'd find me to be both a perfect friend and partner. I could trust myself. I could have fun with me. I could raise babies and work side by side with me. Come to think of it, I basically did do all those things after I divorced.  I've been pretty loyal to me I suppose.

    I don't really follow protocol either - come to think about it. I go straight to the source, and I ask too many questions. I find that this upsets some, makes some uncomfortable, and yes, it has even alienated a few, but for the most part I found out that the reason others get upset about me doing this is they don't have the kahunas to do it, or they never thought they could. I never thought I couldn't. Therein lies the difference(s) between me and most people. I don't have the fear factor I guess. I ask a question and I expect an answer. If I don't get one, I seek it. I will find my answer. Dogmatic? Pushy? Maybe, or maybe I'm really thorough and want the truth rather than settling for a sugar-coated explanation. I want a resolution not a statement. I want something to be corrected, not covered up or hidden. I won't go along with the agenda - - I prefer ethics. That's it...that's the nut, right there. I prefer the truth. This probably makes me a bit odd because I won't accept a lie.

    Well, whatever it is about me, I am the only me I could ever be. I am the only one made that is me. I am the only one I know who would put up with me, and it's OK, I like me enough to do just that. I am going to be just fine -- and when Jesus comes back and I fly up to Heaven to greet Him I really hope somehow He will bring my rock with me; and my dog. Gotta have my dog. When I get to Heaven, I pray that I have every last dog I ever knew and every last dog I ever saw and wanted to get to know. That would be Heaven for me. 

Kilty Pleasures.

 NOPE!  NO! NO! NO!  I don't want to see another chisel-faced man without hair on his chest or face, standing in a studio wearing a kilt that you just KNOW he was supplied rather than owning it. He's standing in a pose with a sword, with his bi-ceps all sprayed down with oily water to make him appear as if he's just come from battle and he's all sweaty - - yeah, OK, but if that's the case why are his boots so clean?  Year after year, because I've never made a secret of drooling over men wearing kilts, my friends send me calendars with the obligatory men in kilts; sans the men. I mean, they are male, but they just don't do it for me. I look, sure, I look, I'm not blind, and I'm no prude - - I look, but to be honest if even one of these types walked past me wearing their production wardrobe and carrying one of their steely props, I would bet you $1000 I'd catch a whisp of semi-masculine cologne (semi) rather than the sweet manly musk d'odor that radiates from a real man -- give me the real man every time. 

    I think when I go to Scotland I will take my handy-dandy camera with me and not just my iPhone 12. I'll try to locate a man or two...or twenty, who doesn't mind me taking his picture and using it to make a personalized yearly calendar that I can use over and over again. Who really cares what day it is when you're staring at 12, 15, 48 gorgeously bearded, round, tattooed men with legs the size of tree stumps? Who really asks what month it is when you can tell by the thickness of the sweater the man is wearing or if he's wearing one at all? If he's not wearing a sweater it must be August (tank top in July, maybe a t-shirt in June).  It really wouldn't be too hard to figure out, and if these men were, I don't know, bending over to tie their dirty dusty black boot -- maybe one leg hiked a bit on top of a rock, no one should be interested in the time of day let alone the month or day of the year. Just stare! It's OK...stare. (that's why I said I wanted to find the ones that wouldn't mind me staring and gawking because I have EVERY intention of continuing that behavior once I develop the photos. Photos can last a really really long time you know.

    Because this is the year 2021 and not the year 1221, I shouldn't really expect too many men that I find in Scotland (on any given day) to be walking around the moors in their kilts, but maybe if I'm lucky I can find one or two, and maybe even a few who are yes, walking around, but maybe out of their kilts, too. I mean I can look - I may not touch, but I can giggle and thank God for giving me that particular gene that really likes hairy, sweaty, round, stout, strong men in their family tartan and you know, I've said it a million times, if that man happens to have a guitar strapped to his back while he's climbing over rocks and tree limbs to make it to the top of the hill so he can sing to the wild animals - - he's going to have more than the sheep for company; to be sure. (be still my heart, pace yourself)

    There will be a few. I will find a few. I don't need many of them really, just enough to fill up a good calendar - 12 months is fine, but yeah, I mean, a 365 daily calendar would be even better - - except I am really rather selfish and would like to look at one or two of them a bit more than just once a year - - who am I kidding - - give me ONE really good one and I could stare for the rest of my life!  I've put in my request and God is at this very moment looking for one that fits more than just a kilt.  

    I have a few more preferences and standards he'll need to meet - - I'll leave that to God, He knows more about what I need, but there is that WANT factor - - I want to be smiling and giggling at the end of the day when I pull out that calendar and say my nightly prayers. (Actually, again, Jesus and I talk all the time, I don't even have to close my eyes) Just know that when I get the 2022 calendars this year from my good friends who think they know me - - I will smile and probably donate them to someone who really isn't into manly men, and to those who just want to look at pretty boys - - Nah, not for me. Give me the one with a thicker belly, fuzzy face, missing teeth, a mischievous smile, a twinkle in his eye, and maybe an itchy butt from not wearing his knickers under his wool gear - - that's the one I smile for. 

Kilty pleasures indeed - - don't forget the black boots, gotta have the black boots (sporran is optional).

Photo credit: Kilted Coaches 

    

The Well.

 This is me about to get all churchy again, and you know, I really can't help it when I get this way. It's not that I am doing it to upset anyone or make any one person feel as if I'm targeting them, singling them out, in order to make a point. No, I don't do that. I listen with both of my ears and my heart and if God lays a message on me to tell the world then I do it. If He lays a message on my soul to speak directly to an individual about something I will never use a forum such as this platform to do something so personal. If you're reading this message here, in this blog, then you know that it is a message God gave to me to speak and it is not necessarily for you alone, even if it is striking the right chords.  I hope you understand that. I'm not here to pick on you, or make you feel bad about the way things are going - - far far from it. I'm the one who is waiting over here just willing and wanting to pray with you (collective you) and hope that God brings you the peace He has brought me from having learned the lesson of The Well years ago, and I finally (finally) obeyed Him enough to understand what it meant in my life.

    God put the dinosaurs on the Earth years ago, there was an event, they died, and they left deposits of oil for us. We know this.  God made the waters both above and below, and we drill for wells, and we drink. We know this.  God is the one, the only one, who is absolutely in charge of every last well we could ever drill, be it for oil, water, saltwater, whatever it is we're drilling for, if He did NOT put the substance there before we began drilling for it, it will not be produced. I hope we can both agree on that fact. We can punch holes in the ground day in and day out, but unless there is something there to be found it will not create itself. Nothing is made that isn't made by God. That's the first lesson. Know it.

    If we are thirty, and remember, this was how it was done before we had running water, if we are thirsty we go to the well.  The well is and was first supplied and then discovered, and as we use it, pump and prime it, and take from it, we know that the well will give us exactly what is in the well unless someone put something else into it that wasn't naturally created in and for that well. That's the second lesson. Grasp it.

     We knew we needed the water, (we'll use water for the lesson) and we went to the source. We went to the well.  But it's not like we just went to the well, we also went to the Absolute Source, as we know and knew that the well was first created or supplied by the Father, and by going to that hole that was punched in the ground perhaps by someone else for our benefit, we go to the well to receive the bounty. We go to the well, to the source to get the supply. That's the third lesson. Do it.

    God is so forgiving and so merciful that if we choose to ignore Him, He will still be faithful and wonderful and supply our needs.  He even promised us in Proverbs 37:4 that if we delight ourselves in Him He will give us the desires of our heart. Desires are far and above the needs aren't they? If He's willing and able to give us our desires, He is so much more capable of giving us our needs. He will never poison the well. He may allow it to dry up if we aren't willing to do His will and work that well. He may decide to end the blessings if we just completely take advantage of His grace and ignore His word. He may choose to have us (you) dig another well and seek HIM so that HE is given the glory and the praise for having supplied yet another well. This is the fourth and harder lesson. Please keep it in mind.

    Our well, our Source is true. He is the one Creator and the one Father who loves us enough to give to us, and He loves us enough to take from us as well so that we will return to Him when we really do need something. Remember, if you delight in Him you are obeying Him, and if you are obeying Him He keeps that well open and overflowing for you. It's when you fail to do His bidding, His calling, or what He wants you to do - - that's when you (YOU) stop delighting and the desires may still be there, but He is not obligated to supply those if you are not delighting in Him. He will supply your need, that's another given and solid promise, but YOU may have to do a lot of the work to make it happen and He will be there the entire time just waiting for you to ask for help.  Like a great Father, He will let you make mistakes so you can learn from them. He won't stop loving you, but it may feel like He's not listening or that He's so far from you -- no, He didn't move. You did. Go back.  

    The well is waiting.  Are you thirsty?  You have not because you ask not. If you ask you will receive and if you seek you will find, and if you delight you will be blessed. Why are you refusing to do what He asked you to do?  Did He ask you to do something you couldn't do because you may not have the money to do it? Didn't He make the money? Are you refusing to do what He asked you to do because your spouse or loved one thinks it isn't what you should be doing? Didn't God ask? If He's asked of you then you KNOW He thinks it's what you should be doing, why would you even THINK to ask your spouse or loved one what God has chosen YOU to do? You can discuss it, but there would be no questioning of it. God told you to do it - - do it.

    The supply is heavy, you are not going at it alone. You are absolutely supported by the One who asked you to do it - - and when you do it, the well will be yours to drink from, and to share. You can't say no and keep your blessing. It doesn't work that way.  "Trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey." 

Photo Credit: ETR Laboratories  

Rooftop Condos for Sale.

 Men, are you listening? Do you have "ears to hear", as the Bible says.  I am again, as I am often, reminded that men these days just simply don't have what it takes to be the stand-up sort of husband that my dad's generation was, or even better, one or two generations before my dad's time of being a husband. Any more I see men in stores who are either "whipped" as my daughters say, or they've just got that look on their faces that says there's nothing they can do to change their situation, so they may as well just surrender and give up; throw up their hands in defeat! Well, here's a thought - - BE A HUSBAND!  (you probably figured it out by now that I'm not married, and the #1 reason I'm not married has so much less to do with me being a bitch and so much more to do with there not being a man (yet) worthy of me submitting to the way the Bible says a woman will or should submit.  You (I) don't submit to a pansy or someone who doesn't follow the Word of God to the point of being an actual husband. Sorry, it had to be said.

    Women are strong, yeah, I get it, we are. We can come across as being overbearing, rude, crude, contentious, controlling, and manipulative.  We can be upfront, blunt, forward, aggressive, blatant, persistent, and demanding.  We can also be passive, passive-aggressive, nasty, cutting, deceptive, and conceited. There are so many things a woman can be, but if a man wants to be a husband to a woman he must first (not only my opinion but the Word states) decide that he will follow God and do as God directs him to do in the household; which by the way, doesn't mean he is necessarily the breadwinner. He is in control of the funds, he is the decision-maker - - and OH WAIT, I just lost half of my audience right there. Women who think they should be in control of the money, women who think they should be making the decisions ESPECIALLY if they are the breadwinners -- they just dropped off like flies. OK, that's a good thing actually, because now I can talk directly to the men who are still brave enough or curious enough to see what it is that I'm going to say next. Good on you!

    God commanded, not demanded, commanded, that a man be the husband and a woman be his wife. He did not make Adam for Eve, he made Eve for Adam. Think about that, we women really could be on our own and not even really need (or want) a man, but a man was not supposed to be alone. Most of them really don't do all that well without one of us to help; it just is what it is. So that being said, why on Earth would the seemingly more needed creature not be in charge? Simple answer: God said so. Since God said so, I'm just faithful (and in the world's eyes, crazy) enough to do what God says. I do believe that the reason I am not married is that there isn't (yet) a man who thinks he can actually be my husband. He would have to be pretty brave to even have such a thought, then to entertain it for any length of time would be a feat.  I would pay attention of course if God led me to do so. I will laugh and walk away if God has not directed me to pay attention - - it is 100% up to God, not me, I make far too many mistakes to pick my next (last) husband.

    The Bible is clear. The Bible is perfectly clear on the matters of who should be the leader in the house, but that doesn't stop her, the wife, from becoming upset or angry. In fact, the Bible says that her nagging or her contention is like a constant dripping. They didn't have faucets in those days, but you get the idea - - over and over and over she nags; when once or twice would have sufficed if she felt that he was listening to the point of responding.  The problem is that his timeframe may not be her timeframe, and if he's following God the way he's supposed to be following God there will be so much less nagging going on in the first place; it's a vicious cycle, but it's true.

    The book of Proverbs is said to have been written mostly by King Solomon, the man we believe was the wisest man in the world - - that being said, he wrote in at least 4 verses in that book that living with a contentious or cantankerous woman is not relished.  He said, in fact, it was better to dwell or live on top of the roof of one's house than to live under the same roof with an upset woman; and he was so very spot on with that one. She will not relent, she will not let up, and that again is the man's problem. WHAT? Did I just say that? Yes, I did. If she's upset he is at fault. WHAT? How is that possible? It is possible because the man is to do everything possible to keep his woman unblemished, unrattled, under his control, and in good condition. He is to bear all the burden of the hardship; he is to turn it over to God and do what God says to do, and if he does - - IF HE DOES, the woman will fall into her place in that relationship. Don't believe me? Read your Bible. 

    It may very well be that you didn't (in the first place) seek or ask God for the one true partner that you were meant to have. I don't know your situation. I know mine. DAMN, I screwed up big time. I got out of it, but man oh man did it ever cost both of us! It cost everything, and it still, after more than 23 years, has been painful and hurtful to so many. I really mean it when I say I will never make that mistake again.  LET GOD HAVE IT. If you let God have it, you may end up divorcing and starting your life and new life with a new wife over again. The one you have now may not be the one you're really supposed to be with. Sorry to bear the truth, but just because you have 10, 15, 20 years into it doesn't make it right - - it means you've wasted 10, 15, 20 years of God's time, and you could have been blessed a long time ago - - if you're living in a house with a cantankerous woman, and there is NOTHING you can do to bring her out of that funk, you need to cut bait. 

    If she won't listen to you, if she won't follow you, if she thinks you're an idiot, and she could never allow you to hold the reins to the finances, the decisions, or the family matters, then you friend, are not in a marriage, you are in a disaster. (PLEASE don't fall back on "I'm in it for the kids" they really would be better off without the two of you fighting constantly, or being crude and uncaring toward each other.) When I think about it, and I do, I think I have never met an adult who as a kid had parents who stayed together for the sake of the kids, tell me that they are better off because their parents stayed together for their sake. Without exception, every last one of them says the stress inside the house was just too much, and it would have been better to have them divorce for no other reason but to get out from under the pressure of their parents backstabbing, bad-mouthing, plotting, and literally hoping the other was injured or worse. It makes NO sense to stay in the same household if she is not following the man, and if the man is not following God.  NO sense.

    Can I really be advocating divorce right now as a Christian? Well, the Bible doesn't say if you're a Christian you can't divorce. It doesn't say you have to stay in a relationship where God isn't the center and one or the other is unwilling to do God's will. You can't be unequally yoked like an ox with a donkey. You just can't do it. Take the common plow with two horses of equal strength, if one horse is trained and the other isn't trained, there is a chance that the trained horse will train the untrained, but there is a chance also, that the untrained horse will lead the trained animal astray and the plow will be broken. If the man is not following God the woman can't follow the man. If the woman is following the man, but the man isn't following God, then there is no union. She's just spinning her wheels and yes, wasting her time.  If the man is following God and the woman won't follow him, he can pray for a while, and he can try, but if she refuses, it is time to let it go. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.  After a while, it can drive you insane.

    Bottomline it.  Young people or people who have been in relationships and want to get into another one; listen to God. Follow the will of God and do all that He asks of you EVEN if that asking seems crazy or out of whack with what you and your new partner had in mind. God is, God is, God is. If you get that through your thick skull the first time and leave it there, you'll be so much better off. If she doesn't follow you, you'll be so much better off than trying to force it. Let go, let God. If you really want to do it right, let HIM pick your partner - - let HIM make that decision.  Anything less is just an investment in your remodeling the rooftop, maybe the attic if she'll be kind enough to let you live up there without nagging you to the point of sending you back outside.

Photo credit: Dr. David Edgington

No Grits for the Brits. (Or for the Scots, Apparently)

 As I do, and as I like to do, I went online and pretended to buy a month's worth of groceries at www.tesco.co.uk.  Tesco can be compared to Costco in some ways, they have clothes, lawn and garden things, food, and of course, they have grits. No, no, they don't have grits. not real ones anyway. They have instant. No, thank you. This was something I found out today, and let me tell you, it's just a really good thing I found out now instead of when I moved to Scotland, because if I had stepped on that plane and landed in the land of Heather only to find out after I'd arrived that they don't sell actual grits in Scotland (or the UK in general) I may have had a heart attack! I mean, I don't eat grits all that often, less than once a week really, but to NOT be able to buy them was just sort of odd to me - - no, let's be honest, it smacked me upside the head with utter confusion. 

    No grits for the Brits it seems, and no grits for the Scots. I wonder if the Irish have any better luck finding grits on sale in their bonny stores? I will just have to keep right on wondering I suppose, I have no plans to visit the Emerald Island for a bit; possibly upwards of an entire year after I land in Scotland. I'll be a wee bit busy traveling and touring the Lowlands and the Highlands.  I think the first few days will be spent on the Isle of Lewis and I'll stay there until I'm kicked off the island for asking too many questions. I'm looking forward to listening to everyone speaking Gaelic. I'm absolutely sure that because I've been studying it for the past year, I'll be able to pick out one out of every 50 words - - that's my goal anyway. One word I'm darn sure I won't hear is the word "grits" and I'm just dumbfounded, absolutely gobsmacked over that one.

    My daughter assured me this afternoon that I could carry a small 20 oz canister of grits with me onto the plane as long as it's not open. I can do that. I will do that. Oh, and then here's the other thing that just floored me about shopping online and pretending to buy food in Scotland. I had to set my coffee down before I spilled it all over my keyboard when I tried to find ground coffee for drip coffee makers that would be compared to Caribou Coffee, Kicking Horse Coffee, or Black Rifle Coffee.  No, I know, I should stop trying to compare anything to Black Rifle, it can't be done, but Caribou comes really really close. I did find to my shock and horror that the Scots drink a great deal of instant ... wait, let me breathe in clean air really deeply before I say that; they drink instant....coff....instant coff...OMG, say it!  They drink a lot of instant coffee. Damn, got it out, there!

    I really hope my new friends don't expect me to have that in my house. It's a lot like asking me to fly the Texas flag or to agree that the Marines are the same thing as the Army. No....no, it really is not the same, and there will be no Texas flags flying anywhere near my house at any time, and that goes for my good friend who I affectionately call "Tex" too; if he comes over, as I suspect he will, he'll have to leave his little orange cup at home; I'll go all Boomer Sooner on him in nothing flat -- he'll understand I'm sure. He may even try it once just for fun; just to see how crazy my eyes can get.  I hate to say it like this, but I'd drink instant coffee before I flew the Texas flag. 

    That's about it. I spent about 240 GBP on my pretend food pantry to get my pretend life started in Scotland.  If you do the math at 240 x 1.37 (exchange) you'll see I spent about $328.00 of pretend (air) money for the whole shebang - - but I spent about $70 on spices and I won't buy them every month. I spent about what I expected, and keeping up with the pantry will be about $220 a month or so, not including the dining out - - which will be limited since I can't actually drive myself to Chick-Fil-A or Bruam's Ice Cream & Dairy Store.  There is a Kentucky Fried Chicken near where I think I'm going to live, but I don't eat at KFC here, why would I do it there? I mainly eat at actual restaurants if I go out to dinner, but I will stop at Braum's once a week for salad and ice cream. (OK, shut it, I do buy the chicken sandwich once a month) 

     I may end up opening up a Sonic Drive-In somewhere near the Edinburgh Airport just to bring some Oklahoma blood to the area  -- and because I think the good folks in Scotland could use a cheap corn dog, no, they don't sell corn dogs in Scotland either - - I looked.  (I don't eat them, but I would sell them)  I'm going to be OK, I really am. The bacon is soooooo much bigger, better, and meatier in Scotland than it is here, and they have Double Cream, which is sort of like whipping cream, but yes, better. I'm also a big fan of digestive biscuits. The rest of us call them flat little sweet cookies, but I am a fan. Yes, I am a fan; oh, and I found that the tea I drink is actually cheaper there too, which makes all kinds of sense. 

    So, between taking the bus, riding the rail, walking my legs off, and calling a taxi to take me home from the store (I can walk there) I will have a good full pantry - whether I bring food home or order it and have it delivered. I didn't buy any paper products in my pretending, but I did shop it, and it's about the same there as it is here. Now, if I had said you can't buy toilet paper in Scotland, you would not have seen me moving to Scotland. I don't care how many roundabouts they have, if there wasn't any toilet paper there would be no Jude  --- First World issues, I know.

    No grits? No problem. I have to go back to the U.S. now and again, I'll just make it a habit to bring it back with me on the plane.  It will happen. 

Photo credit: Palmetto Farms. 

DHEA - - WHAT?

 If you know me, you know I don't have a penis. I have never actually had one myself, and I really don't think I'm going to rush right out and buy one either. If I did have one I'd be rather confused as to what to do with it.  I don't have one, however,  and this is an important fact because every supplement(s) my pharmacist has been trying to recommend to me (through the internet mind you, they never see my face when they make these recommendations) has to do with my apparent need for sexual health.  As my birthday approaches, and yes, it's one of those landmark sort of birthdays, the pharmacists of the world are made aware that this particular person is about to turn old, so they send out notices to let me know that certain Rx meds can be sought through my doctor's office and/or I could just mosey into their store and pick up something from off the counter to help my possible erectile dysfunction or lack of libido; who knew? 

     I suppose as you get older your body falls apart. That's what they're counting on I guess. That's what they think is happening to me, and they don't even know me. If they knew me they'd know I have never had an erection therefore it can't be dysfunctional. It does make me wonder if they have coupons or discounts for vitamins, probiotics, minerals, essential oils, and the things I actually do buy for myself. I buy a lot of collagen; maybe they have that on sale. I buy collagen in gummies form, powder form, pill form, even liquid form. This girl is ready for the aging process to start. I'm prepared to meet that sucker head-on and fight to my last day! (Armed and ready!) Give me the coupons I can use. Forget my prostrate, it's just not going to be over or underworked any time soon.

    There is one relatively unsung hormone supplement that is out there making its way through the hallowed halls of the aged customers. I've not done enough research on it to make it worth my while to buy it, but again, it is supposed to change me and make me some kind of raging animalistic superhuman in bed. I'm told it works for both men and women, and though it was only discovered in 1965 this particular hormone, I'm told, decreases with age, but you can simply replenish it with a couple of pills every day (maximum recommended dosage is 50 mg per day, but doctors have suggested using 100 mg if you really want to swing from the chandeliers and/or beams in the bedroom.) It's called DHEA, and it has, of course, a really super long official name. You can look it up, I don't want to take the chance of misspelling it.

    According to the folks over at www.fullscript.com, you need this DHEA pill right now.  They say it helps with bone health, making bones denser (we need that as we get older, right?) and it helps with anxiety and depression. I suppose getting older could make some people sad enough to become depressed; I'm OK with it, age is just that, an age, a number. I'd be a lot more upset with myself if I found myself not interested in writing, reading, hanging out with horses, or rescuing dogs. Getting older has never really been all that scary for me. Just may be an inconvenience. I'm not carded anymore and that sort of makes me sad. It could be that I'm not buying liquor or cigarettes, that could be why I'm not being carded. You have to weigh the good with the bad, and the sun with the rain. 

    The Full Script people also say that DHEA will help with maintaining good (or better) immunity, and that's a plus, right? No one wants to be sick and stay sick. With all these benefits it made me wonder what the possible side effects of taking DHEA would be - - could there be side effects? Oh yes..yes, there are some definite side effects, and I have to tell you when I read them I fell off the chair and rolled to the corner of the bed laughing. I grabbed the little bench thing that the dog uses to get up onto the bed, and I hoisted myself up back into the chair. Are you ready? 

    Increased abdominal hair growth is the first and most common side effect of taking DHEA. NO! NO! Does anyone have any idea how hard it is to keep abdominal hair from creeping up to your nostrils? Say it ain't so! Are there other side effects? But of course, there are.  Other side effects include the standard upset stomach, muscle pain in the breast and groin areas, as DHEA does in fact target sexual organs and body parts. There could be a change in my menstrual cycle, which I guess for me that would mean that I'll have one. The side effect I'm actually looking forward to is the possible lowering of my voice. (Laughing) Seriously, STOP!

    I'm going to do it. (Laughing again) No, really, I'm going to do this. I'm going to take 6 months to experiment on myself and see if by taking DHEA if I go through any mild or major altercations and/or changes in my body - - I'll track my belly hair of course, that one must stay in check, but I'll try singing tenor instead of alto and see if I can hit the notes. If I can I am so taking 3x as many pills as I need to so I can come off sounding like some amazingly sultry sexy older woman (who looks incredibly young because she takes collagen like it's water) and after dancing my body into a size suitable for Barbie, I'll be one hell of a friend to invite to dinner parties  -- don't you think?  I'll bring my boxing wraps and we can go at it on the dance floor making animal noises and we can blame the DHEA! I can't wait. 

    If it sounds like I'm making all of this up all you have to do is follow the link and read for yourself. If you're young and you're already making all the DHEA you need please don't hurt yourself by taking more. Grow old naturally like the rest of us, but do what I'm doing and fight the process every damn step of the way -- laugh until the cows come home. If you don't actually own cows you'll laugh a bit longer than the guys who do - - now I'm wondering if cows produce DHEA or not? That's how my brain works. Still laughing.  Still....yep, still laughing.  

Photo credit: www.fullscript.com 

    

Work it Baby, Work It!

 The YMCA is literally across the street from where I live, so having the excuse that I just couldn't make it over to the gym is really no excuse at all unless I've got a broken leg or something. Last month I think I didn't go all that often because I did have an issue with a tendon in the ball of my right foot - - weird.  So, yeah, I go, and when I go I work out for about 20 minutes.  Twenty minutes may not seem like much to you and it may not be, but for me, it's the most intense 20 of the day - - unless I'm boxing; then yeah, working out takes second place. 

    Today was more or less a triple header. I woke up thinking I needed to walk so I walked about 5000 steps. I usually reserve that sort of thing for the evening hours, but not today. Then around 1 p.m. I began punching the bag and really got into it. I cranked up .38 Special and hit the bag about a million times. When I do that I really should let the landlord (or at least the downstairs neighbor) know whats up. The bag's base needs another round of sand I think. I hit it, it rocks, and this continues for the duration. I'm not one to let up that often, even if I do have a tendon throbbing in my foot - - not today, but just sayin'.  When I'm hitting the bag I'm punching and punching means I don't give a damn if I'm in feeling pain, I'm punching. (Know anyone like that? I'm one. You know me, so you can now answer that question in the affirmative.)

    So punching happened, and when I punch I dance. When I dance and punch I grind so that I can get the lower end even lower so I can punch and drive my fists into the lower part of the bag as if I'm punching someone in the groin. It could be useful if it becomes useful. My good friend (today) asked me to video my punching sessions -- can I monetize? I might be interested if I could get about 50,000 subscribers willing to pay me .99 a month to watch me punch the daylights (and other parts) off of the red bag. I may have to (at that point) get a "Bob" to punch so it would at least feel more realistic. Bob's face HURTS when you hit it. Just so you know, you hit Bob you feel it.  Those Everlast Evergel hand wraps are NEEDED if you're going to punch Bob.

    After the punching after the grinding, after the walking, after the decision to eat something, which ended up being a pea protein shake with blueberries; I decided to work out at the Y. OK...I must be in beast-mode today, I don't know. I'm about to hit the shower after working out for my give-it-more-than-you-thought-you-could-give 20 minutes at the gym.  I typically do a belly machine, two arm machines, two leg press types, and then the ever-standing rings. I don't do what Lara Trump does mind you, that woman is my personal hero! If you have not seen her, go watch! Go...go watch her! DANG!!!  I do squats on the rings. I hold them, move out to the point that I'm putting all my weight on the rings and I squat. I do that 100 times and call it done. 

    I don't think I'm done for the day, it's only 4:00 p.m. and I'm thinking another round of 5000 steps would be about right for the evening - - after dinner. Put fuel in, get moving. I can do this. I'm not like this every day, and that's probably a good thing, but today is a rip day - - borrowed that one from my son. (He will be proud of me when I give him my report, I'm sure.) So that's about it, just reporting in and letting you know that there are days that I really like hitting things and moving things, and there are days I like feeling like I'm 18 and indestructible. Today is another one of those days. Wanna dance? I'm game.  Crank it. Let's go.

Photo credit: www.shein.com 

Tea Time!

 I had this argument with my good friend who, like me, is from America, and we really have virtually no say in the matter, we have no experience, and we really should just shut up and mind our own business when it comes to tea.  (That was one heck of a long sentence.) So there we are, both of us, neither of us with any real knowledge, but we're trying to one-up each other when it comes to having tea. We (Americans) do that; we're perhaps the most annoyingly arrogant beings on the planet, and where there are times our British friends would love to slap us right across the face (in private of course, so no one would see them do it) we still hold the upper hand in so many other matters, that to actually lay a hand on us would certainly bring about a very public, and openly live-streamed slapping battle royale, that no one would want to admit took place. 

    Americans should simply shut up and listen to their British friends when it comes to tea. That is my statement and I stand by it, but it didn't and won't stop me from arguing with my American friends about what is proper, what is correct, what is acceptable, what is -- well, British. Let's be honest; there probably is a proper way, and you KNOW we are not carrying it out correctly.  Let me take a moment now and make a few of my English pals cringe.  I'll start by saying I drink hot tea from about 11 a.m. to about 7:00 p.m. and I tend to use the same tea bag for at least two cups and sometimes three.  I never (sorry) ever use a pretty or dainty teacup, as my fingers don't really wrap around the delicate handle very well without dipping the edge and spilling my tea. I don't use a saucer (plate) because I rarely spill my tea. I use a coffee mug - - there, I said it, let the slapping commence, I'll shut the door and pull down the blinds.

    There are people in this world, and I am one of them, who have more than 30 different types of tea to choose from so that I am never bored. I have loose tea, tea in tea bags, tea in sachets, which as you know, are sweet little mesh bags, but they aren't bags, they are sachets, so I say I have tea in sachets. I have tea that I created from loose bulk, I have tea that comes in tins that are replenished on a monthly basis, and teas in tins that I will have for the next 14 years without finishing; vanilla licorice comes to mind. Do you see where I am going with this? I have tea. When you come to my house in the morning you are offered coffee or tea.  If you choose tea you must then choose if you want black or green tea. I have both.  You must then go to the tea cabinet, as I have an entire cabinet devoted to my tea collection, and you must decide for yourself which tea it is that you want to drink. I will assist you if you need help. I am really cool like that.

    My tea drinking, and yes, my pretend tea-drinking, started when I was but a wee child, maybe around the age of three, and I would watch my Auntie Eileen Choules, a real live English Ex-Pat who lived in our neighborhood.  She offered tea to all of the ladies in the neighborhood, those with and without children, but she liked it when we came over as she herself had three kids, and we were roughly the same ages as her kids.  She and Mom (Mum) would sit at her dainty table and drink their dainty teas in their dainty cups, and I loved the pomp and circumstance; I remember thinking I would be invited to drink tea someday, and I needed to pay close attention to see just exactly how it was done. I was in fact, invited for tea, the day after my formal graduation from high school.  I was 17 years old, and let me tell you, I relished every single moment of that afternoon delight.  We even had scones!! SCONES!!

    Auntie Eileen was my mother's age of course, and she was straight out of London. I know nothing, and I do mean nothing about her other than she was from London, had three kids, came to America for her husband's employment, she moved to our neighborhood, and that she loved tea. Other than that, she was my mother's friend, and when I was growing up kids were not seen they were not heard, they were expected to be absent when the ladies talked, and even though some of us (me) hid and watched the goings-on during those afternoon teas, we were not permitted (as children) to participate or even have a say at the table; not once. My, how times have changed.

    Today, I am absolutely certain that my friend (we'll call her Jeannie) doesn't know as much as I know about high tea when you should have it, what goes with it, how it should be done, and even if it should be done by crude and unworthy sorts like us.  I do know, however, that I was "taught" by experience, by watching it actually happen both at Auntie's house and my own. I know that it took place right after school let out, and I know that the butter melted just so over the tops of those scones - - unless it was held at my house, and in that case, the butter melted just so over the hot canned biscuits that Mom popped into the oven.  I can't believe Eileen would consider speaking to Mom after being subjected to that sort of treatment! (Ha!)

    My favorite teas are Lady Grey (Twinings makes a great one), Constant Comment, Tazo's Green Zen, and H&T Black Current.  I'm open to just about anything really, heck, I tried vanilla licorice, but I do prefer the staples.  So, there you have it, me and my tea drinking habit.  I hope you have a similar story to share with your friends regarding your childhood upbringings and how they may differ from today's kids' experiences. I can tell you that when my own kids were growing up and Jeannie and I were having tea that Jeannie routinely went for a Dr. Pepper instead and she would leave me hanging time after time again with my tea; even when I did pull out the tiny delicate china teacups with matching saucers Jeannie was not much for sipping and talking - - she only humored me on my birthday. I force her to humor me on my birthday, it will happen! We will have high tea on that one day!

    Enjoy your tea, and please, please, don't forget the scones. Oh, the scones (with lemon curd) stop me. I'm about to drool. 

Photo Credit: www.iherb.com 

Just Another Reason I Am Not Married

 Oh let me count the ways -- when I go to the store I often like to sit back (if I have time) and just people watch. It's one of the more interesting and absolutely the most entertaining part of my trip. I tell Laura I'm going to Home Depot to "pretend" I own a house and I look at literally everything in the store to see if I could use it in my pretend house, but while I'm there I tend to let my eyes wander off to the various couples I see shopping together; or not together. It depends on what they are at the store for I suppose, but there are times when couples are together, pushing the basket side by side, and other times they are aisles apart in their own little world(s) seemingly coming together either at the cashier's station, outside by Lawn & Garden, because everyone ends up there eventually, or you see them slowing making their individual way back to the car at their own leisurely pace. Every couple has a story or two to tell even if they aren't broadcasting it. Sometimes they broadcast it and every other issue they have in their marriage. 

    Today's events were both unpleasant and horrifying to watch, but watch I did, I was indeed watching. I was listening to, and the thought even occurred to me that for her safety I may even want to start videoing their overtly loud conversation. It amazes me how people often (literally) forget that there are others in the same community, right there in the same store, in the same aisle, standing less than five feet from them, but they just keep right on fighting. Verbal abuse is nothing short of abuse-abuse, it's real, it's ugly, it's mean, it's nasty, it's uncalled for, and in public, it should be considered illegal if it reaches a point of making complete strangers uncomfortable. 

    If I have to worry whether or not my gun is accessible, I should just simply walk away from whatever it is that the people near me are "discussing" but then again, if I walk away she may be vulnerable. I could be the only thing keeping her safe from his hands; but it sure didn't help matters that she wouldn't shut up and stop nagging him about whatever it was that broke at home that caused them to come into the Home Depot to get a replacement part. If I know exactly what happened, I'm pretty sure she's reminded him a dozen times. I decided walking away was best, and as soon as it was safe to pass them I did exactly that. I couldn't exit the other end of the aisle, as they had blocked it off with one of their big orange machines and fencing. I was sort of trapped with Mr. and Mrs. Loud-and-Unruly. 

    Whatever happened to the vows these people took? Whatever happened to their endless love? Whatever happened to cherish, love, respect, honor, and for all things holy, whatever happened to just being calm about the situation and coming together to fix it? Even if it is his fault, work with him. If it's her fault, work with her. Both of you, work it out, talk it out, you don't need to blame, point fingers, get all in each other's faces about it. It happened, move forward, and stop bringing it to light in public where everyone can and will know that neither one of you knows how to keep a promise made to each other regarding how you will forever be each other's stronghold. Marriage should not be about scores and points, and your fault, my fault, their fault, or your family, my family.  Marriage is between two not 15. Marriage is a union of two not everyone. I know they say when you marry someone you marry their family, but no  you don't. I won't. I would absolutely NEVER marry someone's messed up, baggage toting, breaking-every-type-of-social-norm family; nope. 

    Maybe it's because I'm older than the ancient Roman ruins, and I can remember when people treated each other better, but if I ever married again I would make it perfectly clear that I don't bring my family to the table and he doesn't bring his either. We are not seeking their approval, we are not seeking their assistance, we are not seeking their opinion, and we are not seeking their involvement.  Sure, we can visit his family (I won't be bringing him home to meet my family other than my kids) and that's my choice. It will be something discussed and understood before I agree to marry; and believe me, I won't change my mind. I don't even know if that's possible for me to do such a thing. (Not really remembering the last time I changed my mind after making a decision). 

    It may be because I've just seen so much, heard so much, witnessed it, and refuse to accept it for myself. It may be because I think marriage is precious, something you work for, but you shouldn't have to fight for it, because there shouldn't be fighting in the first place if you do what you're supposed to do in that first place. (OK, this is where I get all churchy and say if the husband does as God directs he won't have an issue with his wife....EVER.)

    I drove home and thought about Mr. and Mrs. and how they couldn't even breathe without spitting at each other. I talked to God on the way home. I told Him what He already knew; that I will forever stay perfectly single before allowing my heart to bleed the impurity of what I saw in that store. Before I could subject my soul, time, effort, love, feeling, (did I say time) or OK, I'll say it, before I give my money to what could possibly end up looking like what I saw, I would and want to remain absolutely alone. I don't mind being alone. I would NEVER treat myself that way. I would never berate myself. I would never hate and disrespect myself; and I can sure as hell make it on my own without putting myself into a situation where I would be made publicly embarrassed to be seen with the man who swore before God and witnesses that he would cherish me. I would forever remain with me and me alone! (well, except God is there, and of course Sam, my Guardian Angel). 

    "To have and to hold; to honor and cherish"; those words actually mean something to me.  "From this day forward" has NO END.  It doesn't matter if it is 364 days later, or 18,448 days later, if the man I married on Day 1 decides to disrespect me he's no longer worthy of my promise. He has to answer to God. He has presented me to be blemished, he has caused me to be less than presentable, and he is not in God's will at that point.  How many marriages do you think you could count today with that high of a bar being set? You're like me, I don't know many either. I do know one, maybe even two right off the top of my head -- but the vast majority of marriages today fall so completely short of what marriage is supposed to be that there's no way to even call what they have a union. They were "in love" so they said "I do" but after the money got tight, and the kids got mouthy, their "I do" turned into "I won't" and "you can't make me" and that's the problem - - they thought they knew what love was. 

    If you don't put Jesus in the center of the union it will not be a union. If you don't put Jesus in the center of the marriage, it will not be a marriage. If you don't put Jesus in the center of the rest of your life you can all but bet you won't have much of a life to talk about. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you want to point your finger back at me and say I didn't do it right when I was married -- but I got ahead of you on that one didn't I? I already admitted it. I was wrong, wrong, wrong, and then more wrong, so yeah, I left. There won't be another time for me if God doesn't do the picking. 

    There will never be another time that I will call myself a wife unless God decides to bring that union together (possibly with me kicking and screaming there must be another way); His will. I will do His will if that's what He asks of me. I'm not holding my breath.  I'll keep my ears and eyes open for the poor soul, sure, but don't you already feel sort of sorry for the man? He's got a pretty big burden to meet if he thinks he's going to be my husband. He'll have all of the responsibility of keeping me in line; while I just have to follow him. Pretty one-sided if you ask me, but oh well, I didn't write Ephesians now, did I? Nope, but I sure know it's the guideline I'll be choosing to go by - - if there is a next time. 

Photo credit: Heaven to Betsy

Word credit: Apostle Paul 

What if you Love Purple

 So, a friend of mine (we'll call him a friend) likes the color purple. What does that say about him? Well, there are so many hues out there, and no one can really just pick one and say this is the favorite best ever color in the world -- I say that, then I say that Hershey's Milk Chocolate brown is my absolutely favorite color in the entire world. But if you say you love one color over another it means that that color attracts you; it does something to your soul.  What if that color, that particular essence is medium to dark purple? He hasn't told me that he loves purple per se, but I see it all around him and I know he created what I see. Some would say it's even violet, which means it has a bit of a blue cast as well. Let's read what the "experts" say. Gotta love those experts. 

According to www.empoweryourself.com 

    "If Your Favorite Color is Purple. Having either  purple or violet as your favorite color means you are sensitive and compassionate, understanding and supportive, thinking of others before yourself - you are the person others come to for help - being needed motivates you but sometimes people take advantage of you."

    OK, so you're a compassionate person with a great deal of sensitivity, leaving your soul open to be exposed and taken advantage of. Are you being watchful? Do you need or want to be protected if you're a purple person? It only makes sense that over time, after being hurt multiple times, you may end up feeling a bit skeptical and even cynical at times. That describes my friend, and it explains why it is that he questions everything and mulls things over a few dozen times before making a decision.  I'm over here saying "Yeah, OK, make it happen!" He thinks -- he's a thinker. I'm a doer.  Let's see what else we can find. 

According to: www.dougallfraser.com 

    "If you find yourself drawn to purple, there is a chance that you have had a spiritual awakening in your life. As a color intuitive I advise those drawn to purple to take emotional and spiritual inventory of where they are. This is a moment to recognize your path, and to look at areas where you can improve."

    OK yeah, my friend has had a major spiritual event take place in his life a few years ago, and he is now in the worship industry, so there's that. He's one of the good guys.  What else? 

According to: www.colorsexplained.com 

    " (Your personality comes from both the red and blue colors.) Unsurprisingly, these aspects of your personality draw others to you. It’s the perfect balance between two powerful worlds. More often than not, you’re an introvert rather than an extrovert. And although people might see you as shy, you’re an insightful person with an independent spirit." 

    YES! BINGO! OK, yeah, I had a hard time trying to pin this guy down as to whether he was an introvert or an extrovert due to the fact that he gets out in front of people to sing, talk, and be an entertainer, but I know and have known many artists (musicians and comedians alike) who can stand on stage and deliver, but when they are in smaller groups or one-on-one they either shy away, clam up, walk off, or can't (or won't) participate. It's not that they are being rude, they simply aren't interested in being social at times and that's OK. We can't all be social butterflies. The world would be incredibly boring if we were all talkative and outspoken. There's a balance and it's a good good thing.

    One more.  Let's see what else we can say about the purple people - - how about love and sexuality? We all love to read about someone else's sexuality right? Our own could be boring, or maybe just too private to share - - let's read what loving purple says about your actual passion, friend. 

According to: www.color-meaning.com 

    "Purple combines the stability of blue and passion of red. It is also believed to be sexually deprived color or the color of sexual frustration. This could be attributed to its historical significance as a color of royalty, wisdom, dignity and also mystery and magic. People who love purple often have extravagant lifestyles and live in a dream world. Lighter shades of purple for bedrooms can signify romance while darker shades can frustrate or cause erectile dysfunction or other sexual issues."  

    OUCH! OK, now wait, OK, yeah, I like my brown answer better.  NOT the answer I expected to see. So yeah, nope....I guess if I ever find an actual lover who loves the color purple I'll suggest we use lavender sheets instead of something richer, darker, or more - - frustrating. Don't want that. Let's go with BROWN...yeah, what do the experts say about those of us who are into the milk chocolate? The Color Meaning people didn't have anything for brown, lets see what another says:

According to: www.yourtango.com (brown) 

    "Brown lovers tend to be warm and deep, sensitive to the needs and desires of their partners. Down-to-earth and extremely loyal, browns may be fearful of losing ‘control’ during sex which can be overcome with intensely intimate foreplay that ensures there is all the time and privacy in the world for emotions to blossom. You can’t say, “I love you” often enough to a lover of brown. Security and loyalty are paramount, with a strong desire to build relationships toward a larger goal of family or permanent partnership."

    Oh...I like that; except I'm not really insecure. I don't have to be reminded that I'm loved. God knows I don't say it enough. If I told you once that I loved you, I'll let you know if I change my mind. I'm at least that sweet - - So, there you have it. Purples are compassionate, sensitive, wonderful, giving, caring, creative, performing, dreaming, writing, reading, singing, loving, and charismatic souls who really love nice things, mystery, and intrigue.  I'd say that about covers my friend - - as for the frustration part? Well, I may never find out - - and if I ever did I'd be sure to bring the lighter shades of purple to the bedroom...or the den...or...the staircase... you know, the woods, under a canopy maybe, maybe not, maybe just hidden behind the bushes somewhere so people don't see (or hear). (Smiles.)

Photo credit: purple passion beverage