Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...

Monday, September 29, 2014


GOOOooooooODDDDDddd Monday morning to YOU!

I am full of energy today. I think it is because I finally feel myself getting over this sicky crapola and back to par.

Week 6: Marathon training...is a re-run of Week 5. My trainer and I already discussed this. So, I am set back a week. Oh to the well.

This weekend was productive in the most sense. I cleaned and reorganized my entire barn. I have the garage gym all ready for winter fun. All my tools are neat and tidy. I do have some fall gardening to do and some birdie haven maintenance to get underway.

The compost pile has been maintained and ready to rot over the polar vortex days to come.

Home projects are never done, however. I have many more before it gets too cold to work outside. I must hustle.

When I was a kid, I worked outside a lot. Even if I wasn't really working, I tried to fake it so my mother would not make me do inside chores. I still have that problem. I don't  like inside chores.

On an inside note...I am a boob tube baby. Always was fascinated with Hollywood. Same for books. It's the getaway and entertainment value. My dad was about PBS and news. I liked Mystery Dinner Theatre. But mostly while he watched television, I read a book or I was an ant on a trampoline begging him to change the channel.

I didn't like 60 Minutes when I was a kid until I became a junior high school student. My dad's favorite show. Back then it was a different world. I still like 60 Minutes, but it sure has a liberal twist. And I loved Andy Rooney. Who didn't? But did you see this Sunday's episode on Jack Ma? That was something fascinating. It will be interesting to see if he can escape the government's power and control over his billions.

Did you watch Madam Secretary? NO, not you, Coffeypot. You protester!

I happen to like it. Let me tell you what, tho...Hillary Clinton is no Tea Leoni. But there are similarities to be drawn. Everyone is saying the same, including you and me...is this a ploy to advance Hillary to 2016? Get her in the good light again?

Let me explain...in pictures...

                                                          Photo credit: CBS, Madam Secretary

I happen to like this version (photo above)  of Madam Secretary, Tea Leoni. It's sloppy chic. She looks like a detective. LOL. She has the same hair and attire I did as an FTO trainer in Quasi-Solo phase (also referred to as Quasi-Moto phase).

But then she had to have polish! So "entree the stylist"-is that a dish or an entrance? MWAHAHAH!

So they did their show magic...and eek, ack...it's a pretty version of the young Hillary? The parallels are eerie.

                   photo credit: CBS, Madam Secretary

Oh, BAM!

                                                                                                                                                                                      photo credit: Huffington post

OR SHAZAM!                      

                                                                                  photo credit: politico.com

Must I also point out Hillary's re-runs...the necklace, the suit. Hmmm. Is that even heard of? [smirk] I'm sure CBS won't make that same mistake with Tea. But what are they saying to us? Are they really trying to get us to buy off on Hilliary 2016, or are they showing us what America preferred Hillary to be like? Like....likable, for instance.

Did any of you read Unlimited Access?

I worked during the Clinton reign and let me tell you unless you are buddies with the Secret Service, they won't tell you SH*T about any president or vice president.

Yes, I have buddies. Yes, they all disliked the Clintons. Working for them on a daily basis was like grinding your teeth together constantly, but you had to do it because it was your sworn duty. That's dedication to your country right there.

photo credit: USA Today

photo credit: www.reuters.com

From my own experience? NOT a nice lady. Hillary HATES cops and is very disrespectful to them. Oh, unless the camera is alive and even sometimes then she doesn't give a sh*t whether or not her wrath comes out or discontent for military and police.

                                                                                                        photo  credit: Huffington post

After all, we-the cops, are not people. We certainly are not intelligent in her mind. We are a tool and uneducated, beneath her. Grrrr.

Ok, ok. Cool the jets. Back to the topic.

Madam Secretary makes notice of Benghazi and in fact, last night had an episode which is reminiscent of that fateful day. However, Tea Leoni saves the day. She never loses her cool. I'm worried it is a little predictable. But so far, I like it OK. She has two weeks, then I am all over The Walking Dead. And Tea Leoni is no Reddington and can't hold a candle to The Blacklist. But she has gumption, the right amount of sass, and is an intelligent Madam Secretary with "boots on the ground" experience being a spy for the CIA as is the President in the show.

She always has the right answers.

Well, duh, as someone told me...it's television.

Saturday, September 27, 2014


Let's talk shop.

Common name: Lie detector test.

Official name: Polygraph

  1. Junque science?
  2. Interview and Interrogation tool?
  3. Truth testing?
Polygraphs are used for pre-employment purposes and during employment or promotion periods in law enforcement or positions with security clearance, etc.

They have an omniscient quality about them just in mentioning of the terms.

It makes every one of its victims who sit in the chair shiver, sweat, and fret. Possibly true. Maybe not?

Mission accomplished.

So what is it really?

It's a tool.

An excellent polygraphist can use the test to determine deception and warrant further interview or interrogate (prying) a subject whether for employment purposes or criminal uses. Even if deception isn't detected by the test, a polygraphist could use trickery by suggesting a candidate or suspect had "problems" with a certain question or such.

The tests are not admissible in a criminal trial.

At the same time, it is amazing how the average lay person puts a lot of credibility into the test.

I have seen the best liar pass and the most honest fail.

So really what is it? How can people beat them? Why do honest people fail?

Being a polygraphist takes a special person and a good interviewer. There are weeks of classes and continued training.

I have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The test measures changes in breathing, heart rate, body movement. The polygraphist watches everything you do and how you answer as well as what the test measures.

It can't see inside your mind. Neither can the polygraphist.

If you control your body, you control the test.

Fear. It changes our breathing, our heart rate. We sweat. We move. We squirm.

Everyone is nervous during a polygraph test. Even if they are innocent.


Not for some.

What if they aren't nervous? Hmm... red flags? A master manipulator? Good question.

Say it to any cop...they are not a fan. It has nothing to do with their integrity or honesty...it just makes us squirm.

Similar to that of mentioning boogers to me...

Oh, yes, I have passed every one...

Super Bar Sluts

This week I am going to reveal a story about the Bush homicide...behind the scenes. Never told. Never written in any of my books. Should be interesting to you. It will be detailed and eye opening for anyone who has not sat at the front bench of a high profile jury trial for three weeks or more.

IN the meantime...let me entertain you with weekend follies.

Today after my second (in all my life) Yoga class, I went costume shopping with my friend.

Homecoming is next week and we have to be a superhero-either international or domestic. I am going to make myself a Viking Warrior...a man...not a girl kind.

It raised the nose of my friend. I think every time I try to go outside the box, I raise eyebrows. I like to be unusual, different. Sometimes I like humor in my costumes.

LANA BANANA: Well, I want to be a girl.

Now this is so typical. I am in the bible belt where women are very old fashioned with little sense of humor and not much cursing.

Have you ever looked at girl costumes, especially superheroes?

Yes. They all look like bar sluts.

I mean seriously. I pointed it out at every opportunity. She even agreed at some point.

She chose a very cool beefed up (fake muscles) Superman costume with yellow rubber belt and everything. It is so cool.

I converted someone!

[big smile]

Bar sluts for Homecoming and Halloween...be gone!

Friday, September 26, 2014

Light My Fire

Some random good facts in a pinch or emergency of sorts: crayons can be used for lighting and burn up to 30 minutes. I suggest the big fat ones for longer lasting energy.

Tip: Make sure they are upright with the butt on the ground and the head is lit. Those are two words separated by several spaces and thoughts.

Demonstration below:

Yes, this is my art project. I know, I need to work on my talents.

Just think...this important message was free and now you know.

Do you have any random good facts? Please share!

Hop Scotch

One of my favorite cartoons of late comes from artist, Tim Whyatt. It  is so telling of some supervisors. It brings me back to a Throwback Thursday moment.

I will give him a little unsolicited plug. I have not yet read this book, but I have it on my wish list. 

 He is one of the most viral cartoonists. Contagious, you say? Yes, sort of. No, he does not have a virus, but his work gets forwarded, passed around, shared, and raved about on the Internet faster than Obama changes his entourage.
Photo credit: Tim Whyatt (Pinterest)

So here goes the event...TBT...on Friday. So, I'm late. Shut it.

When you deal with crazy people on a daily basis as a police officer, you get to  know some of them very well. At times they can carry on a normal conversation. When they stop taking their meds and go down the slippery slope to the world beyond sane, the police get called.

Last night, we received a call of distress that a well-known schizophrenic had barricaded himself in his home and created a gas leak from his kitchen stove. Enter the police, fire, gas company. The gas was shut off. Police evacuated the area. The hostage negotiators set up camp outside his residence about 200 feet. That's where I was manning the post with The English and Sgt. Nightshift.

David was about 38 years old, 6-4, and over 300 pounds. Highly intelligent as many schizophrenics are...he was exceptional. College, military. His grandfather had won the Nobel Peace prize in 1988 or something like that. The last episode with David had landed him in the state mental hospital which takes an act of Congress to get someone in there anymore. Congress acted. David entered. He was released in May of 2010. The gig that sent him to the funny farm happened last December when he kidnapped a woman claiming he was saving her from rapists and shot off rounds in the parking lot of his apartment complex. It was a disaster that ended with all going home safe. David was sentenced to the funny farm. In August, he again went off his meds...and last night...well, the way to describe it was to name it OPERATION GOAT SCREW.

Officers could see inside where David had barricaded the front door with a sofa. He was sitting in the middle of the living room talking non-stop to himself. He wouldn't answer his phone. He turned up his stereo. He was in his own world of non-sense. His hair was in disarray, he hadn't shaved in months. He had two knives and unknown firearms, if any.

Usually on calls to David's home, myself and Officer Punky Brewster responded. He likes her. He likes women. We can calm him down. Last night...he was not responding to anyone.

The English and I were assigned the negotiations. It was a cold, brisk night...temps in the early 30s. No wind. Still air. Very dark, black night. One of those nights I had opted not to wear my long underwear. Nuts. I resorted to dancing in place, pacing in small circles, and moving around. I did have my winter coat, but the night air whistled right through my britches. The English soon followed suit as he had the same dilemma.

After over 100 calls into David...he still did not respond to the ringing phone. We had been there two hours by then after evacuating residents, shutting off the gas, and setting up a perimeter. Then the dreaded radio traffic...

Apparently, Lieutenant Metrosexual had gone home early for the night and our watch commander had shifted to Lieutenant Ratchet Liability. It was a slow motion simultaneous..."NNNNOOOOOOOO!"..sounding out in the darkness. Fuck me in the ass. The English and I knew exactly what to expect. Chaos. A goat screw. Tactics against protocol. Hold onto our pants...it was about to happen.

Ratchet was old school. Late 50's. Tall. Thinks he's invincible because he used to be a one man operation in Nebraska for years before coming to our department.Never has worn armor.  He was going on his 29th year of service with our department. He was my first sergeant. In those sergeant days, he was known as abrasive, but I got along with him fine and he was great to work under. As a lieutenant, he tried too hard and I think he was feeling the wares of old. He ran Investigations and was the demise to the turmoil that went on upstairs several times. Now, mind you, he still had a heart of gold. It was a contradictions of terms, Batman, but you must have known him to understand him. We loved him on days and on others...well, this was an other...

He showed up in plain clothes...hollered out something about guns about 50 feet from David's whereabouts and trampled through the crunchy leaves to a window where he peeked inside. Oy.

THE ENGLISH: Oh. No. I can see the writing on the wall.

ME: Yep. He's going to go through that window in plain clothes. No protection...grab David by the ear and try to drag him out.


PUNKY: [High pitched angry voice in all of 4-2 of her glory and height] He can't do that! It's against protocol and safety! David will pummel  his ass!

She was very excited about this...and disturbed...and distraught. It did not phase The English and I because we knew exactly what was going to happen and there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it.

ME: Yep.

THE ENGLISH: Yep. This is pure entertainment. Can't wait until we have to clean up this mess.


RENOST: Lt., his name is David.

*head hits hood of car*


ME: There goes the window.


PUNKY: [really excited, pacing] No. No. Someone tell him to stop. He can't do that. David is dangerous.

ME: Oh, you haven't worked with Ratchet yet.

THE ENGLISH: We're used to this.

So Ratchet broke the window, yelled at David. David got mad and started moving around the house near his knives, flicked the porch light on and off. Ratchet started to enter the window, but stated the shards of glass would cut his guts open. So he started to remove the shards.

Sgt. Nightshift brought the ram and shield. He and the Sarg (my swing shift sergeant) along with a team of 8 moved to the front door. Nightshift rammed the door, shoving the couch over which had held the barricade. At the same time, Sarg broke another window to distract David. David rushed to slam the door shut in Nightshift's face. Nightshift took the door off its hinges in about 2.5 seconds. Troops pulled furniture and items out of the way of the entry and Tasers went flying. It was like confetti...only electrifying.

Miss. Miss. Hit. Rookie Ranger Danger hit the Sarg and the wall with his marksmanship. Officer Renost's Taser shot hit, but it didn't penetrate David's thick coat. Officer Homer Simpson hit right on. It was ineffective. Epic Taser fail. (Always with the big guys...failure...which is common dealing with very  high or very crazy people)

The fight was on.

David was captured.

DAVID: I like that Taser action. I have a government passport. CIA. FBI. Secure the residence.

RATCHET: You like that Taser, huh? You're OK, David. You're OK. We're going to take you to the hospital.

He, David,  talked nonsense all the way to the hospital...non-stop. About books, art, computers, the government, transmitters...you  name it.

I  met Officer Punky Brewster at the hospital. Because David was such a handful, we had 5 cops and 2 hospital security guards. David stood in the doorway of the rubber room...tense, upset, clenching his hands. He talked non-stop...non-sense. Didn't respond to questions. Didn't respond to the hospital staff or police. Would not let a nurse near him. Just kept on going...like the Energizer Bunny...only crazier.

After 1 hour of his rambling....I set up directly in front of him and watched him. Sometimes I smiled at him. I didn't ask him anything. I didn't interject.

OFFICER SMOKESTACK: 96, just smile and nod. Smile and nod.

I smiled over at Smokestack in agreement.

Another 30 minutes went by and David seemed to relax a little, but still talked non-stop. Hospital wouldn't touch him because he kept fighting them and he was too dangerous.

Punky Brewster was writing up the involuntary hospitalization form. David started rambling off his poetry. Being highly intelligent...he was quite good. I looked down at the ground and zoned out for awhile...trying to focus away from David's noise. His poetry went on and on about government conspiracies, books, art, and life all mixed in. It rhymed. It was funny. Then...he interjected his current thoughts...

DAVID: As the Missus looks down....calmly at the ground...she wonders where she has found...such a crazy man with a heart of gold and looking a little dirty. Dear Missus...blond fair lady....I really think you are pretty.

I laughed. Officer Punky Brewster laughed. Punky was usually his choice of Missus. Somehow he had focused on me.

ME: Thank you, David.

David's eyes lit up and he smiled.

PUNKY BREWSTER: [announcing to the ER staff and cops] Hey, everyone! David thinks she's pretty!

Doh! Time to beat the Punkmeister. Only in jest, only in jest.

ME: Thanks, Punky. You are so helpful.

PUNKY BREWSTER: [big cheesy smile]

DAVID: You are beautiful  lady.

ME: Thank you, David. Are you feeling better?

DAVID: Yes. You helped me.  Now, I have grown very fond of this electric slinky attached to me.

ME: [laughing] I like that. You are very clever, David.  Can I use that term sometime?

DAVID: [big smile] Sure. Use it. I like that you call me David instead of Mister.

ME: You crack me up David.

DAVID: You make me calm and happy. Thank you. You are pretty.

OFFICER SMOKESTACK: You could ask her out on a date. She's recently single.

ME: Shut it.

So Lepreshawn, Granger Danger, Brewster, and Smokestack made fun of me and my new found friend. I was red in the face from the pressure.

DAVID: Thank you for liking my poetry and my slinky terminology. I can't feel these things. [looks down at probes] I'm OK. These bracelets are tight.

ME: Oh, the Taser probes. Can I remove those for you?

DAVID: Sure.

Panic struck the male officers as I approached David. I pulled out two Taser probes and put them in a sharp's container. He wanted to hang onto the wire....the slinky part. I told him that was not a good idea. He refused to let us pull the probes out earlier and it wasn't worth the fight, so we had left them.

DAVID: Help my hands. They hurt.

ME: I will loosen the cuffs up for you.

DAVID: Thank you. They keep clamping down.

ME: Probably didn't get double locked in the fury.

Smokestack came over to aid in taking David to the ground in anticipation he would be escaping custody. I waved him off.

ME: David. I know you won't hurt me. When I loosen these, you need to remain still so I can adjust them, OK?

DAVID: Ok, fair lady. Thank you.

And with that, I adjusted the handcuffs. It was like "Beauty" and " The Beast", only different. No happy love story ending. At least not for me. I felt sorry for David. To be trapped in his mind must be a daily struggle. Sad thing was...he was brilliant and very computer savvy.

David didn't move. Later, Smokestack, Punky, and myself helped seat David so he could be injected with Vitamin H. He finally did comply and started to make more sense. I saw my chance to exit as my shift was ending.

ME: David, I have to go. Officer Punky Brewster will take care of you and these other fine officers. Get to feeling better, OK?

DAVID: Ok. Thank you. I love you.

ME: I love you, too, David.

LEPRESHAWN, SMOKESTACK:  [breaking out in song] Is it  love... that I'm feeling....

ME: Shut it.

Cops are so funny. Gah!

And so David went to the mental ward...where they will probably medicate him for 3 days...get his meds regulated...release him...and he will go off his meds again. And we will meet again.  Sad case of truth. It happens on every goat screw incident with the insane. Unfortunately, they can't get the help they really need. Sad sorts.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Pot or Kettle?

So what do you have to say about global warming...er... climate change...er...ice age theory...er... hypothesis of the weather monster...er...Triangle of Death....er... Mother Nature's wrath or however you want to classify it?

                                                           Photo credit: Pinterest

I must be totally boring everyone. Haven't heard much from the peanut gallery...er...blog readers...er... fans of fodder..er...Boogie Man followers...or however you want to be called...

Winged Reflections

Sheriff Mike greeted us last night with a package from the south from Aunt Superwoman.

Today, feeling up to it, I decided to take a gander. I found myself soaking up my Uncle Paul's memories and somewhat smirking to myself at his humor, which must be from the Irish-German side. His is identical to mine, however, mine might be a little more on the crude side as he had manners.

He served in the Air Force and fought in Vietnam. Not only that he became a Nimrod, flying exclusively at night in secret.  Not only that, but among his greatest triumphs, he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. Not only that, but I could list his accomplishments which would take up miles.

He was a humble man.

Instead, I want to share some of the more tender things that no one knows...

For instance, he wrote a book and the first sentence tells a story about Uncle Paul which would follow him all of his life and his love for flying. It reads, "Apparently, I had a long harbored and hidden desire to fly an airplane I had never seen except in pictures, and about which I knew little." He wrote that. It truly spoke clearly of his heart and from his heart. I know it was a strong love for planes, not just a kiddie pipe dream. It was more than that.

He was talking about the B-26, renamed in 1964, but originally had been the Douglas A-26 Invader until the 1940's. Uncle Paul was a Nimrod.

Just like a Marschalk, anything head first and full throttle. Nothing to stand in the way. Fall down, get back up. Get knocked down, get back up and fight back. Forward march? All feet in action.

All of us are funny, stubborn, and bull-headed. I can name them all.

Humor in my family, you say? It's hereditary, you don't say? Stuck inside Uncle Paul's book manuscript, which is crudely typed with his scribbles in the margins, I found this...

F-4, F-4

Chorus: F-4, F-4 Fly So Fast
              Can't See Shit, Can't Hit Your Ass
             Why the hell do you fly at night
              And give Us all a fright?

The other night I worked with nail
F-4 showed up without fail
Though they are without a word
Came so close I loosed a turd.


The flares are out, the sky is lit
F-4 showed up without fail
The trucks are down there to be hit,
Comes the F-4 out of gas.

Candle tells me, "Okay, Nim", 
F-4's low gotta put him in,
Pull off twenty miles and stay
And I'll go thirty the other way.


F-4 Flight they see their mark,
Cleared in hot they make their start,
Down the chute one pass and go
Candle tells them RNO.


Ten minutes later back over the trail, 
Candle looks but to no avail,
"Sorry Nim, but I can't see
All the trucks are in the trees."


Sometimes F-4's are OK, 
This is mainly in the day, 
To get BDA at night
Keep the bastards out of sight.


And there was the sensitive and proper side to Uncle Paul found in all of us, but I think it shined brighter in him...was the love he felt for his comrades. In his bible, which I take to church, is the message he would read over his fallen comrades during Vietnam...

We are gathered here to honor our fallen comrades. Bless them who have given their duty and their life to protect this country against those who wish to annihilate it and our way of life. Bless them as they fly out west and tell them that down the road, we will fly west and join up on their wings. God bless them. Amen,

Inside his bible was also a letter my father, Robert, had written to grandma and grandpa when he was in the Army from 1952 until his honorable discharge which was over a decade before Uncle Paul served in Vietnam in the Air Force. The letter is post stamped 1953. Dad's handwriting was the same in 1953 as it was when I read his letters to me in college. It was kind of eerie when I first came upon it, but I have read it at least 100 times by now.

Here is some excerpts from the letter which was 3 pages on a pretty ivory parchment paper of high quality..."Amsterdam wasn't much. Saw a few windmills and the harbor. The Dutch are more typical German than the Germans. They're tall and blond haired. I thought the Germans were like that, but they're a mixture of everything...In Paris, I climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower... I haven't checked on what's his name's china yet. That's supposed to be the best china in the world... Listened to Moscow on the radio tonight, they sure are full of it. Their news broadcasts sure run the US down. Well, I guess I better hit the sack. Tell Small Paul hello for me. Love, Bob."

Bob and "Small Paul" were opposite of each other. Dad was 5-9 and thin. Uncle Paul was over 6-0 and medium build.  Dad went to boots on the ground in the Army and Paul became a pilot in the Air Force. Dad bought a ranch. Paul bought a home in California in the city. Both owned planes. My dad was also a pilot but gave it up later in the 80's for tractors. Both looked just like their dad, Grandpa Paul. I guess I should say Dad had some of Grandma Yvonne's features, but Uncle Paul was a striking image of his father.

Later in life, Uncle Paul looked a lot like dad had before he passed away and it was evidently so when he walked into the Farson gymnasium for my brother's high school graduation. Like I said, my father had passed away by then and it was hard for all those "firsts" that your father doesn't get to attend because of death. Uncle Paul came for Alex in memory of dad. It was a very kind gesture, just like Uncle Paul style. I was soon surrounded by whispering Farsonites telling me it was like there was a ghost in the gym, that "Paul looked just like Bob." There were long stares.

I guess I have comfort in knowing that all of them are together as a family, probably bickering about politics and telling Grandpa Paul they don't want to hear about sports. Grandma Yvonne is probably just watching by, shaking her head, dressed to the nine's.

Tattle or Tale?

Work didn't happen. Well, it did, but without me. So I am home again.

I missed two job opportunities because of this. I am a little bitter.

And not to mention, bored out of my mind.

The Afghan soldiers were located trying to get into Canada. The second such incident. I wonder what is going on? They should have had a better plan. Is it a distraction, decoy operation? Or were they really that silly to think they would not be found? Was it just simple asylum? Why didn't they seek it in the United States? Perhaps we will get the answers the media will hand feed us through the information the government selects to be released.

Will it be the truth? I don't know.

Call me cynical, but I question everything anymore.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

BoxCar Willies

Day Three of the sickees. NOT a fan. Would not recommend it to anyone seeking something different. Stick with the ordinary. Word.

I finally took a shower. Isn't that gross?

I was pretty much a bedridden princess the entire time. All I did was sleep, drink tea and bullion. Yuck. I didn't like being stuck to only Internet entertainment or books. Oh, there was some Netflix and Amazon Prime usage for movies and series.

Not that I don't like those things.

It's just I wanted to go outside since it was so nice.

I'm all drugged up today. I feel pretty much like my head is in the clouds. Respiratory infections are not my friend with asthma. They kicketh my booty.

I'm going to brave work tomorrow.

I did read some news. I'm not too thrilled about them losing the Afghan military officers. Seriously? http://www.foxnews.com/us/2014/09/22/search-for-3-afghan-army-officers-missing-from-cape-cod-base-continues/

And every serial killer's dream is this...http://www.foxnews.com/us/2014/09/23/rutgers-student-believed-killed-by-new-jersey-first-fatal-bear-attack-in-150/

Yes, they are both Fox news. Why? Because I was there. I don't think any of the news outlets are fair and balanced anymore. They are all skewed one way or the other. What happened to investigative reporting? I know many of us are questioning this and wondering what in the world are we getting fed?

Answer: A lot of BS.

I was really bored for three days. Not much chatter amongst my friends. I'm sure I was a pest. Also many people were busy at work or weekend family events. My communication would have been a lot like dealing with a narcoleptic.

I slept a lot. Moose did not leave my side, only on rare squirrel watching occasions which is not like him. He was clingy. I did appreciate his snuggles. I'm sure he helped all the ailments diminish.

I think I am pumped up with steroids in my lungs now from Advair.


And you?

Week 5 of Marathon Training was what I call: Neutral Nellie or Debbie Downer week.

I had lost 2 pounds early on, but gained them back at the latter part of the week, and missed three days running due to the sickees. It doesn't make me happy. I feel like I am now a week behind and may have trouble going into this Week 6 training schedule. Three days in a row of no exercise. I can feel the muscles screaming..."Oh, we are fading....help us, help us.." Ok. It really isn't that creepy. But I know I lose if I don't keep this up.

My Zombie run was cancelled "due to unforeseen circumstances." I'm really pissed about it and they put me in another "normal" race in October. Maybe Rick and Daryl got to them before we did.

The Walking Dead is coming up soon. October 12th for you sickos out there who like survival tactics and going back to what is primitive with a scare.

Will they get out of the box car? Duh. They have a season to play out. It can't be all about eating them one by one.

But how will they do it? Trickery? Breaking out?

I guess time will tell.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Donkey or Elephant?

With the reappearance of HOMELAND-the greatest spy series-in my humble opinion...even topping 24, comes CBS with Madame Secretary. I like Tea Leoni.

She's a pretty good in her convictions and foreign policy plays for a Democrat or is she playing a Republican? Who knows? It's the magic question posed from the pilot show.

The pilot was actually very good. I look forward to another.

And The Blacklist returns. Another network great.

Then we have The Walking Dead. Obviously, the winter months are going to find me hooked to the television and books, rather than getting my inside home fixes completed on The Harry Potter House.

Is it appropriate to call out a FAIL before any efforts begin?

Do you have a favorite show?

What books are you going to tackle this winter?

Taking up knitting?

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Dog Sick

My friend wants me to join her in Yoga two mornings a week before work starts. I don't know if I am interested in giving up my early mornings, which means getting up two hours earlier. Perhaps I am over thinking it.

Despite the fact I made fun of Yoga, I think it teaches a good thing. We are all beautiful. It also is a good form of meditation while at the same time, helping with balance and mobility. One of my wise old friends (81 years old) told me I should do Yoga and try it for a month. If I didn't like it, then ditch it. But, she said, I would probably come to realize it would change my life. She said it is also a great way to slim down. By visualization?

All those who claim Yoga keeps them a size four and looking fine....I call booolshit.

That comes from other combinations of eating clean, caring about your well-being, and exercising. And truthfully, some people just are blessed with good genetics. I am not so lucky. I really have to work at it.


Because I would really rather have that huge Prime Rib steak than a salad with an apple for dessert. And it would really like to stick on me.  But I don't feel good with a steak on my thigh. At this age it is more difficult to feel mobile and strong without crepitus.

So what is the solution for old folks? Yoga? Some say so.

I say, maybe. Maybe I will try it again and work on my balance.

Add in another class. It's not like I don't fill all my work time and time in between Bug's school time with workouts of some sorts. I work out during lunch. I run when she is in bed. Now...early mornings? Maybe. I don't regret the weird scheduling. That way I don't miss out on her time with me.

So perhaps I will become a Yoga fanatic.

Call me a freak.

I just hope I don't axhale so much. It's embarrassing.

In the meantime...Moose and I are going to rest. I am still sicker than a dog. What does that mean anyway? Moose is not sick.


Today is a far cry from yesterday. I have been very sick, fever all day, in bed with Moose. He has not left my side except to go outside with Bug to potty.

Yesterday, I was talked into a Yoga class. First one ever. The closest thing to Yoga I ever got to was having a mat.

New "near south" words:

sawl-spelled s-a-w=past tense of see. visual observation

axhale=spelled e-x-h-a-l-e=to let air out. In the near south, it must be done with conviction as emphasis on AX.

The instructor played a lot of instrumental music, some Jason Mraz and kept the lights  low. 

I felt myself in awkward positions. In some of those awkward moments, I also found myself sleeping.
Yoga stretches all your muscles and works on balance. I mean, where else can you do a swan, be a tree, and lean against a wall in a hand stand for Zen magic?
And it was all about loving yourself...you are beautiful... in all these awkward pretzel poses...
Did you know, the downward dog has nothing to do with smelling balls?
The child's pose is my favorite. Why? Because I could actually do it without my muscles crying for help.
And let it go...the pressure...let it all out...relaxing all your muscles, letting go of the stress...
Our last song of the class...
I sang my own lyrics in my head...
"You can't make your fart feel something it won't
Here in the dark...in these final hours...
I will lay down my fart....
I feel the pressure...but you don't...
And FART...
Yes, Yoga is that relaxing. AXhale...let it out...
Once I get up off this floor...
I can scratch that off my bucket list.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Like A Boss

WHO gets stopped at a DUI checkpoint?




Comments from the cops: "Oh, she does those maneuvers quite well. Like a pro."



Why did I get targeted?

Because I had been crying from my hair do disaster at the salon.

I guess I LOOKED like a DRUNK BIMBO.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Head Games

Have you ever stood within 20 feet of a train as it rushed by you going at least 40 mph?

It causes a rush of emotions, not an adrenaline rush, but the emotion of something massive and much bigger than life in front of you.

I watched from the time the engine came by with its lights glaring in my eyes, glancing up to see the numbers on top of the cab shine "2610." The train was hauling oil and as the tanks screamed by, I thought about what I would do if there was a derailment.

Could I run away fast enough?

Which direction?

It made me rethink my boldness as I stepped back a few notches waiting for it to pass so I could continue my run.

Week 5 has proven to be tough.

Much of this is due to all the mental garbage going on inside my head which is causing me to muscle (mentally fight) through each run. I am still amped up for my fit classes at the university, but I am really having to force myself to keep up my running schedule. Once I finish each run I have mental clarity. It's just getting to that point which is a struggle.

After speaking to my health coach (another free university benefit), I had to stand my ground on my diet plan. She was none too happy about my drastic calorie cut but I assured her I was not hungry and eating more fruits and vegetables, cutting most breads and white potatoes was the jump start I needed to cleanse my body of all the great international dishes I had indulged in over the last year. Who knew burritos made for bigger boobs and curry dishes gave me a big 'ol booty? And then there was America. America gave me a keg. I surpassed my 6 pack abs. Ok. Maybe I am exaggerating a little.

The university gives us some great health benefits such as metabolic screening, body composition analysis (bod pod), blood screening tests, fit tests, etc. If your community has a Health Fair, I would strongly recommend doing the screenings they offer.

Back to the health coach. She is really monitoring my intake. I told her to focus on the positives like my extremely low blood pressure and cholesterol. Every time she scribbles, I get nervous.

She is pleased with my body composition changing and my endurance improvements, but not thrilled with the calorie intake which varies from the extremely low (900-one day a week) to the average of 1100 daily. I really am not hungry with the foods I have chosen. It's about energy foods.

Yes, I miss a greasy burger once in a while, but that doesn't mean I can't have one on occasion.

You know what else is great?

Cadbury came out with Scream eggs which are Cadbury Crème Eggs only green. They taste the same. And they look like boogers with a chocolate shell. Divine heaven, I tell you. Is that a double negative or a double positive?

Anyaiggs, I am on a mission. I have goals to meet.

Running into the country tonight, my mind was assessing my surroundings. Escapes, concealment, cover, etc. Corn versus bean fields? Do I want to run through corn or crawl through beans should I get chased.

I switched to the other side of the road to run against traffic for safety reasons.

What if a car stopped while I was running on the quiet, dark country roads?

Would I hide? Ok, K, don't be a freak.

A semi came down the road which was a first.

It was a double trailer and it felt out of place. Two years and I had yet to see one on that particular road headed to town. Usually they used the highways.

What if the driver was a serial killer?

What if he had a gun and tried to force me into his truck?

I practiced my moves.

Ok, K, you are really being a freak now.

Run faster.

Look around you. The farms are about a half mile to a mile apart.

You are out here all alone.

A car came down the road toward me.

Do I stand my ground and be a strong runner, meeting them head on (not literally, but not moving out of the way-making them move)?

Do I go into the ditch to avoid getting clipped by the bumper?

Is the person drunk or sober?

Yeah, I still got it.


Cops think of weird shit like that.

Societal Sidewinding

Societal Sidewinding.

My new coin phrase.

What do I mean? Think about the movement of a snake. Sometimes I think society emulates this in their actions or lack of actions.

For instance, it seems to be more fitting of the news that we have a moral decline or change in moral policies rather than focusing on the meat and potatoes of our nation and globally in world politics. However, these moral issues are still large and seem to fuel rage and passion.

Back in my Homeland, for example, the town is at polar opposites about a skit performed in front of teachers and 6 student council members. Of course, just as a layperson nobody, I have my two cents on the matter. You can read it here...LINK.

Here are my questions?

1) Do you think the skit is appropriate for school, disapprove, or don't have an opinion? Why or why not?

2) With the explosion on the news and the resignation of the principal, what message, if any was sent?

Now the Air Force...they have allowed airmen to omit "so help me God" from its enlistment oath.  You can read it here...LINK

Here are my questions?

1) What are the hazing repercussions to those who omit it? Will it be smooth as butter? Will you have those who welcome or despise the changing of the original script?

2) Why has this become such a big deal? And don't tell me the Constitution says, " separation of church and state." Why? Because it is not in there. That was in a letter from Thomas Jefferson and it has been taken to different levels. Not saying anything is right or wrong...just saying.

Overall, why are words and doctrines becoming such a passionate topic in America?

What has changed or is changing?

Is it important to be a checks and balances on all these issues?

What do you think-good, bad, indifferent?

Wednesday, September 17, 2014


Another great review! Thank you~

Full of Joy!

I am full of joy today! New reviews on Amazon warmed my heart. Thank you so much!

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

The Kid

That your gun?


Where did you get it?

My dad gave it to me when I was little. Probably smaller than you.

I'm 10. Does it shoot good?

Nope. It just sits there.

Why not?

Because I shoot good. It's the operator.

Hmm. Looks nice. Pretty nice gun.

GUN DEALER(rudely interrupts my chat with the kid), " It is a nice looking little plinking gun."

Yep. Plinked a lot with that.

I like it. It's nice.

Yep. I refinished it.

Where you from, lady?


Mentioning Wyoming drew a man crowd around me.

Why did you come here?

MEN (rudely interrupt my chat with the kid), "Yeah. Why did you come here?"

Do you have a couple days?

I don't understand, ma'am.

"Yeah. We don't understand that. We have until 6. Close shop." GUN DEALER rudely interrupting my chat with the kid once again.

"We got all day, lady. We will meet you outside to hear this." MEN again rudely interrupting my chat with the kid.

Yeah. Never mind. It's an inside joke.

Oh. You shoot that gun a lot?

Yep. I can't tell you how many thousand rounds have gone through this.

What do you shoot with it?

Used to shoot everything from targets, pop cans, skunks, raccoons, prairie dogs, to snakes and whatever else.

We don't got none of them around here. 'Cept raccoons and skunks.

Yep. I know. Possums might be good.

Possums are cool. You going to go shoot that now?

Nope. Taking it home. You sure have a lot of questions.

Yep. I want to learn to shoot. I never seen a girl shooter.

Yep. Looks like I'm the only girl around these parts at the moment.

It's cool. You got a lot of bullets?

Yes, sir. I have many rounds of ammunition.

I can't wait until I get to do it.

Yes, sir. Make sure you have a wise teacher. Remember to respect guns. Be safe. You have a great day!

Yes, ma'am.

I left the little curious feller with a big smile on his face.

I could have played Home Alone 20 questions with him all day.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Novel Ideas

He laid there looking at me with his kind, brown eyes. You could see the love he had for me.

My blue eyes were pools of glacier melt and they met his as he stared at me.

He came closer and put his head near mine.

I sighed a big sigh.

He sighed a big sigh.

He came closer and curled his body up next to me. He was warm.

I snuggled closer and put my cheek on his head.

He came closer and closer. He looked up at me again.

I kissed his nose.

We were snuggle bugs. He was the type of guy who knew something was wrong even if it didn't show on the outside. He knew just what to do. He could read me like a book.

I sighed a big sigh.

He sighed a big sigh.

For those moments we snuggled, life was grand.

I knew he would never leave me and his love was true, unconditional...


Our love was abruptly interrupted by a tree rat running across my bedroom window on the tree branch.

I do love my Moose.

Damn squirrels.

Week 5: Marathon training. Down 1.5 pounds. I missed my long run this last week. This week is another added mile during the week and two more on the long run day. Time to button down the hatches and get serious.

Sunday, September 14, 2014


I am a big girl.

I'm not talking about my size, but my mind.

Here is your Fargo tip of the day=The only people who tell the truth are small children, very drunk people, and people who are pissed off in the moment.

People all around me seem to forget that I am an adult. I make my own decisions. I have several crazy moments in my life. Well, more so than others, I believe. I fuck up. I fall down. I get back up. I do have triumphs.

Sure, I am not superwoman, although I am a pretty tough broad. I am permeable and maybe I have chosen wrong at times. This is in regards to any choice in life, about life, about any decision one has to make. Do we go left or do we go left? Do we turnaround?

But maybe those paths are put in front of me for reasons I learn later. And maybe I am just a terrible chooser. Maybe I can't read fucking signs. Maybe I ignore them because rules are meant to be broken, says the rebel side of me.

With news of my "fake relationship epic explosion"-let's just call it MAN-PLOSION, out of the woodwork comes those who feel the need to help. Hot off the presses, the news  hitting those close to me whom I had confided in, comes the flood of very meaningful and on their terms, "thoughtful" advice.

This even resonates from family.

However, if they would take a step back and reread their messages, they really are hurtful and don't help. In fact, some of them make me downright bitter and angry. Yet, I forgive them for their nice intentions.

Sometimes it makes me rethink what I say to others in a time of sorrow or crisis.

There are those who just support our friendship or just call to give me virtual hugs.

There are those who condemn me, spew awful words of advice, and damnation.

Now, all this taken into consideration, these are good people. They have good intentions, like I said. How do I know that? I know. I will share some of the "thoughtful" words I have received from several friends and family members...

"You just need to concentrate on yourself and be a good mom to Bug."
"Now is the time for you just to be a mother."
"You just need to stop talking to men."
"Will you promise me that if you ever get interested in a guy ever again, you will contact me right away? "
"My husband said if you even ever think of dating again..."
"Do you even check these people out before you get involved?"
"Next time you even look at a man, run it by me."
"Oh, gawd, do you ever have any sense?"

"You need to stop looking for a man." Funny thing is, I don't go looking for a man. The past relationships have all been opportunities.

"Don't push God."
"You don't need to go out and look for a man. You need to stay home."  Like I am a slut on 4th and Main with my leg hanging out.

"For a cop, you sure are stupid. Don't you even get to know these people better?"

Maybe so. Maybe I should close my heart.

Did it ever occur to anyone this relationship occurred over a year, over time, very slowly? From a distance as well, which makes it even more slow. But it makes it easier to deceive.

I cannot even count how many times I have received messages,  jokes, inspirational quotes, phone calls, cards,  etc., from friends and family who make me feel small and stupid.

Then there are those who you think you would like to talk to about it, but they listen about two seconds and talk about themselves. Or the ones who just give you the wave and tell you to get over it. Well, duh. I like the times you are right in the middle of answering a question about "how are you handling things" and they "have to go."

That's the ticket.

Here is another message another friend thought would help...

In other words, I don't deserve true love. Or I don't get to have it. You didn't get picked to experience true love. And on another note, telling me I am dwelling on it to a point my life stops...so this wall of text suggests. Like I don't have coping skills, for fuck's sake.

Better yet, I like the countless ones who tell me I really didn't love him, or you were just rebounding. Well, newsflash...I really did love him. I was not rebounding. I could give a two shits about the serial killer. I was over him at least a year prior to filing for divorce. The first husband? That was 5 years ago.

Does everyone think I just sit around and pine, weep, and curl into the fetal position? Really?

Would it surprise anyone that I have not cried this time?

And yet another friend's message...

"Maybe you don't get love. Maybe you don't get a companion. Maybe you were meant to be alone."

Yes, I was meant to be alone. Because I do it so well.

Why don't you just hit me with a stick, bitch? It would hurt a lot less.

There are those whom I laugh with and we joke about my life and those who just are there, saying nothing negative and not judging. Believe me, I make fun of myself. I am damn funny. I can laugh about anything.

There are those who just say they are sorry and give me love, offer an ear. Thank you, take a bow. I curtsy to you.

Over time, I learned I have many wonderful friends. I do. I have the kind of friends whom I put on angel pedestals. I have the most awesome family. In fact, my friends are also a part of my family.

But I also have those who interfere in my life way too much. And some of those include my angel friends.  Some of those include my family. Some of my family just scowls about my life, but say nothing. They all mean well. They do. I think they don't realize how harsh they are because they only want the best for me.

That's why I have kept many personal things private. And geez, when I thought it was going to lead to something big, I told a few of them. BIG MISTAKE. They were mad about that too. Why? Because I didn't tell them. Do you think I want to be drilled about my love life? Fuck no. And here we are at a point something didn't work out so well and I get, "I would have told you so. You should have told me. I could have told you that wasn't going to work out."

The blog is me being open and honest, but I still have kept a lot of privacy. It's true I am an open door for the most part. Why? I can talk about anything. I am not afraid.

I'm a train wreck. You can't look away.

Here's a headline for those judgers: You have flat tires in your little race we call life's journey, too. I was always there when it was rough for you or you made some SHITAY choices. Did I judge you? No. Did I condemn you? No.

But Fargo, you do it over and over again in relationships. You can't get it right.

Maybe. I don't know how to address that.

I only revealed my dating relationship to others when I thought it was going to lead to bigger things. I never talked about my second marriage much until I blogged about it. Really. There are several back home who still think I am having a colorful NFL life.

Funny how no one really cares on a daily basis, but when it comes to an abrupt and tragic end, everyone has their nose in your business.

I can grieve alone. I don't need puns. I don't need jabs. I don't need judgments. You can think them. Keep them to yourself.

Do I need friends and family? Yes. Do I need you? Yes.

Be nice or be quiet.

Don't ask me questions, I will tell you no lies.

That's what it has come to over time. Exclusion.

Here is what you need to know in a nutshell. I lost a person whom I thought was my best friend. Everything I thought was real was unreal.

Try to swallow that.

At least in death, you can hang on to what was real.

At least with a real loss, you learn, you loved,  and move on. It happened for a reason. It is a part of you. You have real memories.

Mine were revealed to me as an illusion and a delusion. Two different things happening at the same time. It's a hard pill to swallow.

I also am the only one to suffer public humiliation over this.

Do we all have regrets? Yes. Yet, at the same time, I don't look behind me. I look ahead.

Do I regret ever falling in love at any moment in my life? No.

Do I regret falling in love with the wrong person(s)? No.

I bet that last one took you for a U-turn or a re-run. Did you have to read it twice?

Why? Because love is a gift. I give it away pretty freely. I suffer the consequences in the end if it is one sided, but I never regret giving my love to anyone...even a stranger.

If you read my blog during the police officer years, you might have already grasped that notion. Sure, I could be ruthless and a hard ass, but I didn't let the crust build over my heart.

How do you grieve something that wasn't real? How do you grieve the loss of a best friend whom didn't feel that way about you? Betrayal is worse than death. Why? First of all, because what you believed to be true was a lie. Because your real thoughts and real future plans were abruptly stopped and not only that, they become impossible. Because that person is still there, yet not as the person you thought they were. They still live in their happy life. He still loves, but it isn't me. He didn't lose his best friend. He still has her.

Did I get another explanation than just the one from the girlfriend? Yes.

It was a birthday present I appreciated. Sometimes you want to know why.

Do I believe it? Some of it. You never get all the truth, the whole truth. Only what someone wants to reveal to you. It's really hard for someone to tell you the truth when it was such an explosion of deceit and generally, they were thought to be a good person. Those people don't want it to be public. They don't even want to tell another person in confidence. They don't want to lose respect or their reputation.

So, you get pieces.

And all of it is hidden from public eye, kept under wraps.

What I know, am told, or believe... is all inside this rock head of mine. For me to digest.

Rockhead. I think my dad might have called me that once or twice.

Did my fake boyfriend ever love me? He says so. He says he always will. What does that mean?

I don't know. Maybe nothing.

And yet I don't hate him. Many people can't understand that.

I don't hate people.

It isn't worth the waste of energy.

I only love and forgive in my personal life. Many of those people may not be in my life anymore. That's the difference.

If you were lucky enough for either one, you are a part of me...always.

Garden of the Fish


Hello! How are things going?

Good, good. Just mowing the lawn.

I see. I should do mine.

Designing a new garden?


I like what you did over there. The stones and wall, the steps. It's really nice.

Thank you. I still have to find some plants next year for that garden.

I bet it will be nice. What are you making today?

A flower garden.

Oh. Have a good day!

It's always nice to have feedback from your neighbors telling you in an indirect way that your garden looks like shit.

Yes. It didn't look like much yesterday. It now looks like an odd displacement of flowers or a place where we buried our pet fish. I have visions of grand gardens in my head. But because of my budget, I cannot bring it to fruition yet. It is a work in progress.

Bug wanted to honor Otis and so we call it Otis's garden because he used to go out to this spot and roll, lay in the sun, and bask. Someday, it will be magnificent.

It was my birthday yesterday. One more step closer to 50, yet I am holding on to being closer to 45.

After arriving home from a trip to town, I was greeted by Bug.

Mom, wanna fight?

Ha. No. It's my birthday.

Mom, that's what I'm talking about. Come on. I wanna fight you. You have a lot of spankings this year and we can get it done by fighting.

She punched me a couple times trying to rile me up.

How many people do you know who "box", "kick", and street fight for their birthday spankings?

Yes, we are a warped type of family...the two of us...and MOOSE! He joined in. Sometimes I wish we hadn't taught him to attack someone if they were attacking us. Two against one.

Of course. I won. Duh.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Abercrombie Is A Bitch

We have a student worker who used to be a model for Abercrombie & Fitch. Apparently, being beautiful entitles you to come in to work whenever you feel like it. Today he is 3 hours late and has not notified anyone. If he was under my supervision, since this is the 10th time, he would be fired. Hmm. Not good.

Chitrins. We must educate them on the work force.

War face. On.

And in other unrelated news...here is a random review of Evolution Fresh drinks. The coconut water with pineapple is good, but the over pricing of the drink is wrong. The Sweet Greens and Lemon...totally sucks unless you like to make snarl faces and taste liquid celery and spinach. It's tough to be Popeye, but I'm not having any more of those...

It's a Gwen Stefani day...


My birthday weekend is full! Full of joy and activities!

At the end of each night, it will end with miles...many miles.

I didn't expect to be able to see this much progress in just a month. I guess trainers know what they are talking about.

This is the end of Week 4 Marathon Training. Week 5 is stepping up some more mileage. I have to thank my marathon partner for the schedule and support. It was the extra push I needed to get my life back.

I am feeling the best I have in the last two years and my body composition is changing rapidly with the extra CrossFit and fit classes. I can put the "you are never too old" adage to bed. I can report dropping some sizes feels great. Sometimes you don't realize what stress and unhappiness does to a body until you really look at yourself under a microscope.

My daughter is excited about boxing. Beat me.

That was a bad pun.

She has picked up my love for sparring. Last night, she greeted me with some high kicks and tried to punch me when I came through the door.

Oh, yeah.

I still have those cop-like reflexes. She giggled and said, "No fair, Mom! You have reflexes."

Well, duh.

I may be old, but I am still swift.

Can't sneak one on me.

Perhaps some of me is rubbing off on her. Even though I have now fondly given her the moniker of "Scrappy-Doo", she just doesn't have my scrappy-ness. She has too much princess. We will work on it.

I have to go at a quarter speed or less so I don't hurt her. She is encouraging me to put a punching bag in the garage gym and get us some gloves. I miss that equipment which was provided for me at the police station gym. I told her to start a jar. So here we go...

...Meanwhile...I am checking out boxing opportunities for next semester.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Reflections of the Red, White, and MOOSE!

How was your Patriot Day?

Me first.


Because you can't answer fast enough for a conversation. And it's my blog.

Many flags were flying today everywhere, proudly, including the 1000 flags of honor at our campus founders' showplace.

I saw the video of former President Bush as he declared war on the terrorists after 9-11 and his rise to empower the nation to be strong. It was inspiring in light of today's presidency. Many may not have agreed with Bush's policies or politics, but he is a patriot and he did right by coming to action immediately and with vigor.

My Homeland lost a great firefighter today (9-11)to cancer. Perhaps I am wacko (OK- I am sure I am wacko, but it is a good wacko. Right?) but I don't know a more fitting day for a first responder to pass. I don't know. Just a random thought, I guess.

Much too early in my opinion, but it never is our decision. His life was in the prime years, cut way too short. My last year on the force, he was first diagnosed and it came as a shock. He was young and had a lovely family, two young kids. He was a most honorable man and we cops always had a hoot with him on calls. He will be missed. Rest in peace, Captain.

IU Southeast was on police lockdown due to an "armed gunman."  Now, that is what the news reported. Think about that..."armed gunman." Am I the only one that thinks that is a DOH phrase? As opposed to what-an unarmed gunman? Of course a gunman is armed. Usually. Usually they have arms and weapons.

My Moose is the most lovable dog. He snuggles, fetches, and is just the bee's knees. I lurve him. Bug lurves him, too. He has been coping better than expected with the loss of Otis, although the neighbors report he cries during the day for long periods and barks at times. Hmm. Squirrels. Cats. And grief. A problem.

But look at that face!?!
My very expensive refrigerator that I hauled all the way out here from Wyoming (commercial and very large) had crapped out a couple months ago-again. It magically appeared back online today. Weird. However, I celebrated with a Toyota jump in the mud room.

Now. We get to the "about me" part.


I feel good!

Down almost 20 pounds (winter fat be gone) in the last short weeks. I have a ways to go to get to where I am going.

Tonight it was a perfect night for a run. The air was cool, but not cold. I ran to Eminem, Lil Wayne, 50 Cent, Robin Thicke, TI, etc., and enjoyed the sunset in the country. About 4 miles out I thought Eminem was getting a little wacky in my head or I was hearing voices or noises, so I took my ear buds out. Then I heard the familiar sound. Church bells. The night was so clear, quiet, and calm you could hear them that far out into the country as though I was home.


It just seemed like a sign of peace, especially fitting on 9-11.

Now, how was your day?

Wednesday, September 10, 2014


College students can amaze us at unexpected moments. Except for me. I did nothing amazing in college except park my roommates car on Prexy's pasture and the lawn near the dorms several times being the most sober driver. I could really kick my own ass back then. I was such a "reckloose" (not recluse) and had no regard for what I was doing or could have done. Neither did my friends. It was the early 80s. We had no wisdom at the time. Things were different.

reckloose=someone who is reckless, endangers others, and has no regards to safety, no fear and runs loose all over living carefree with no sense in their head. It's my word.

I remember back when I was in college. It seemed to move in the fast lane. I didn't study. I ran a lot, worked out, played intramural basketball and volleyball. Partied.

I just showed up for tests. I was more into the field study and practical application of college, the social atmosphere. Not that I didn't like knowledge. I did. I just had no interest in statistics, biology lab, or accounting at that time. I actually showed  up to classes like Calculus 3, Trigonometry, American History, and Philosophy and got A's in the hardcore courses. I sloughed off the basic general classes.

In other words, most of my core classes I didn't take to, but I dove into the meat and potatoes or special interest classes. I majored in Marketing and Art. Who knew I should have dove into Criminal Justice? I have no regrets. I loved running a successful business. Someday, I may try it again...somewhere else. Word up. Music back in that time was pure 80s...

I fully expect I may retire in the mountains somewhere, perhaps Buffalo, Dubois, or Cody, Wyoming where it is more affordable than Jackson...or Kelly...or Astoria where my heart longs. I could see myself in Ten Sleep, Wyoming in the canyon or even next to Golden, Colorado. I will be remote wherever I am. I don't care about convenience. Its the way I was meant to live.

Jasper, one of our student employees,  surprised me today as I walked back from my workout, he handed me a slick piece of paper which I instantly recognized as a Starbucks free coffee coupon.

ME: What's this?

JASPER: It's for you, Miss Loving.

ME: Oh, I can't take this. You need that. You are a college student. Have to save where you can, you know?

JASPER: Nope. I insist. 

ME: Are you sure? That is awful nice. Thank you.

JASPER: Yep. I wanted to bless someone today and I chose you.

ME: You are a blessing. Thank you.

He looked at me with his big pearly white smile and I patted his shoulder. The nice young man, my little criminal justice major, almost made me tear up. Bless his heart. I turned around and gave him a hug. He has a good heart and a good mind. He just needs some guidance, but he has a strong religious faith. There are moments when you see a young person grow and it just amazes you...

Tomorrow is the big day-09-11. Remember those lost that day and keep their families and those left behind in your hearts.  Let us never forget. Our country changed forever that day...