To Vote, or Not To Vote.

Daily writing prompt
Do you vote in political elections?

To be honest, I wish I did.

I’m turning 36 this year. I feel like most people have already gotten to the point where they have opinions, thoughts, etc. on political things. I don’t. I don’t know what I’m looking for, or listening for, or what I’m supposed to understand when politicians speak. I don’t know what makes one better than the next && I don’t know how to know the differences.

I try to have conversations with people around me about some of the topics that politicians talk about, but all it does it anger people around me when my opinion’s don’t mix with theirs. I didn’t grow up in the times with a lot of the people around me – they are either twenty to thirty years older than me or way younger. So that leaves me in the middle.

I don’t have any opinions or wants or likes with people younger than me. Nothing. I have yet to find anything they say remotely amazing.

But at the same time, for the ones who are older than me, I don’t find that I agree with them too much either. Some of their thoughts, yes, but most of them are living in a time that no longer exists – but I don’t agree with the time we are in now. A lot of what the older generations lived for / with – I do think some of it should come back but at the same time I don’t think all of it should still be here.

I don’t know, maybe my thoughts and feelings and such just don’t have a reason to be in conversations with people around me.

I do make jokes a lot about being a 40 year old white male republican. There may be some truth in that somewhere.

Holiday’s Make Me Happy.

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?

It’s not much of a secret, to be honest, what my favorite holiday is. You can walk into my shed and see boxes filled with Christmas decorations, t-shirts that are Christmas themed, and one day a Christmas themed tattoo. That’s my holiday. That’s my happy time. && I’m pretty sure there are many reasons why, I won’t take up 1000 minutes of your time with every reason so I’ll knock it down to two reasons: One, it’s so much cooler around Christmas; Two, the decorations / music / movies / people.

From March until around October in Southern Oklahoma it’s hot. Humid. It’s gross. So when November && December comes around it begins to cool off && usually, I say usually because it’s not always true, around Christmas it’s in the 50’s to 60’s. Sometimes, even cooler. It’s definitely a Christmas gift all on it’s own.

I can’t stray away from looking at the decorations to listening to the music or even watching those horrible Hallmark movies that you can watch && know exactly what is going to happen. You always know. There’s jokes about how horrible those movies really are. But I don’t care. I love – LOVE – Christmas movies. In fact, I have a few that I must watch yearly: Santa Clause (only the first one), && Christmas With the Kranks. But from there, I watch them all. I even may re-watch some that I have watched before just to get my fill. I’ll even subscribe to the Hallmark Movie Channel for two months out of the year. It’s like a drug.

I know, this isn’t always true, but usually, normally, sort of – kind of, people are just infinitely happier around Christmas. && when people are happier, I’m happier. I don’t do well with a lot of negative vibes, never have, it eats at me slowly until I’m just uncomfortable which in turn makes me unhappy. Cranky even. But with people smiling, happy, giddy, I am all of those things && more because now I can go into public and not be a “bah hum bug”. But of course, you still come across those people, it just happens. But I try my best to get away from them as quick as I can so I don’t have to deal with it. It bums out my style.

Camping’s a Lost Art

Daily writing prompt
Have you ever been camping?

Camping used to be a huge thing in my family. When I was a kid. Before my mom passed away.

Every July my mom would pick a new state, a new place, that we’d drive to for a week, and camp. In a tent. Yeah, we were those people. You know the ones. The ones who wanted to camp but couldn’t afford an RV or the like, but we could afford a tent that held six grown adults. So that’s what we did.

I say it was yearly. Honestly, we didn’t camp every year. Some years we traveled and just stayed in a motel or at a family’s house. && it wasn’t every single year of my life. We started traveling in Summers after I turned 12. So for four years we done a vacation in July, always the week of my mom’s birthday. It was basically a gift to herself that we all enjoyed.

The first trip was to Michigan, Beaverton, to be exact, where we stayed with my cousins. My mom grew up with their mom – that’s the set of family members that introduced my parents to each other – so that was a no brainer for the first vacation.

The second trip was to Colorado. Grand Lake && we camped at Winding River Resort. Our tent sat right on the side of the Colorado River. I can remember stepping into the water && being from Southern Oklahoma, where our water is hot in the summer, sticking my foot in that River shocked me. It was cold! That’s not something I’m used to in the middle of July.

I can remember the drive up the mountains – snow actually fell. && as a kid from Southern Oklahoma that was a treat to see in July. I also remember how steep the mountain was. One side of the cart, the drivers side (I sat behind my mom who drove) was a solid wall of mountain. The other side, complete drop off. Nothing.

We went up to Estes Park which was fantastic. That’s the time I realized I wanted to know more about the Stanley Hotel. My dad’s dream was to go into it being a huge Stephen King fan. But we never did. I put that on my bucket list. To go back to Estes Park && actually go inside of that hotel. More for my dad than myself, but I’m going to do that.

The next year we went back to Michigan, but this time we went further than the hand. We drove all the way up to Copper Harbor up in the Upper Peninsula. That was a drive in itself. This was probably, by far, my favorite vacation spot we ever went to. We drove a different way than we normally would going to Michigan but my mom (&& secretly myself) wanted to go to The Mall of America in Minnesota. I was never one to say that I was a huge mall fan, but when I heard about this one && everyone around me in school wanted to talk about how great the Grapevine Mills Mall is, I just wanted something bigger. Better. As a teenager that was bullied for many years, it was nice to be able to say that I went to a mall, a bigger mall, than everyone in my class.

Once we arrived in the Upper Peninsula I was in love. I’m still in love with that town today. As I’ve stated, I have lived in Southern Oklahoma / Texas all of my life. Born in Texas, moved to Oklahoma very young – so there are somethings I have never seen. For example, houses on stilts. (A trip to Louisiana down my the Gulf.) Or, as I saw in Copper Harbor, houses with doors on the second floor. No ladders to crawl down, just a random door, on the second floor. It intrigued me – a lot. I had to inquire about it. Now, this isn’t something from a local, but I liked the reasoning for it so I’ve kept that all these years. My mom and dad said it’s because they get so much snow fall that they need a way out of the house. So they have second floor doors so they can walk on top of the snow. Is this completely true? I don’t know. But I like it.

We stayed at a camping spot called Lake Fanny Hooe (not kidding, that’s its name). This is where I saw my first bald eagle, my first black bear. It’s also where I saw The Northern Lights in person && I stepped in one of the Great Lakes, Lake Superior. && might I add, Lake Superior, just like the Colorado Lake, is freezing cold in the middle of July. It’s also where I got to paddle boat for the first time through Lake Superior.

My mom’s want that year was to go as far North as she could before she got into Canada. But, at the same time, she wanted to go into Canada so she picked a spot to go toward once we headed home. From Copper Harbor we drove across the U.P. to Sault Ste Marie && across that bridge. (Have I ever mentioned I have a bridge phobia? No? I do, have for years. && this trip took me across way too many for my comfort, but what can you do?) The only thing I really remember about the Sault Ste Marie / International Bridge is two things: One. Once you across a certain point you stop using Miles Per Hour && begin using Kilometers Per Hour. && I can say, mind you, I didn’t drive then, but our cars in the United States has Miles Per Hour in plain view, you can’t miss it. However, the kilometers is secondary and smaller. That was a treat for my mom. Two. That bridge stunk. From the moment we began to cross it there was a smell wafting into the car. I don’t know what it was, or why it was, but it was.

We cross into Canada there – but sadly, that’s as far as we were able to get. Issues arose and we were turned away. So, we spent approximately 20 minutes, and one big U-Turn in Canada before we left. (That has been put on my bucket list, to go back to Canada && actually be able to enter. But I think I want to go a different direction next time, but we’ll see.) Since that was ended so early, we went ahead and started our travels back to Oklahoma. Going South from there we traveled down the Mackinac Bridge (which, thanks to my father, when I go to spell that bridges name, I say “mack-uh-nack” in my head.)

Side Note: I will say one thing about bridges. I may not like them but there are some amazingly beautiful bridges out there. The Mackinac Bridge being one.

The last vacation we took wasn’t camping. The last trip was for my mother’s 40th && last birthday she’d spend alive. So I’m extremely glad we were able to go there. My mom had always wanted to go to Disney World in Kissimmee, Florida && so we did. She received a deal through a time share company that gave her really lower prices. First, we had to go down to Ft. Lauderdale and stay in a time share hotel && go through all of the hubbub that went along with applying for time share. (She didn’t buy it.) Then we drove up to Kissimmee, some would rather say Orlando, but whatever, and we stayed in a nice hotel there and we spend some time in Walt Disney World.

That trip included Ft. Lauderdale, which just seems dirty, like the whole town needs a good scrub with bleach (when you google the town, it looks beautiful, and maybe it is. We didn’t spend a lot of time there and maybe we were on the wrong side?), a glass elevator that sunk into the indoor pool, long lines at rides at Disney World, and a bird pooping in my hair when I sat down on a bench after realizing that Florida heat in July is different than Oklahoma July heat. It also included one of the longest bridges I have ever crossed in my life, thanks mom: The Atchafalaya Basin Bridge.

Sadly, though, there are a lot of memories I don’t remember && it’s not because I don’t want to. I truly wish I could remember every single thing about each of those trips. But my memories don’t work the way they should. As I’ve mentioned, some things I remember didn’t happen the way I remember them && so now, I wonder how many of my memories are true.

I do remember that in Colorado there were so many more things my brother && I wanted to do – but we didn’t have the money to do it.
Copper Harbor when we arrived my dad went to the front building to check in && it took him nearly thirty minutes because the people in the office just wanted to listen to him talk. We met a bear because, you know we don’t have those worries down here, we left out trash from dinner at our campsite.
Our drive to Florida, through small towns in the Southern states, also loved our accent even though we were amazed by theirs. You’d never think how different each accent is in the South until you travel through each state.
I also know, that one day, I’d like to go && revisit each place we traveled when I was a kid. Maybe then my memories would come back? Plus, Boyfriend had never been out of the state of Oklahoma before me. Now he’s been to Texas. I need to take him more places.

Side Note #2: I have also been to Louisiana, down to the coast, Grand Isle. So I have stood in the Gulf of Mexico and went crabbing with a friends family so a crab would “bite” me on the toe. That was the year that Hurricane Katrina basically wiped Grand Isle off the map. I was still in Louisiana for that, but luckily, we weren’t still on the Island. I spent my one and only hurricane in a trailer house in Denham Springs. The hurricane itself never reached that high off shore so we just got a few storms that came from it, but I did decide then that I would rather deal with tornadoes. Oh && yes, that was another trip where I was put inside of a car to go over two big bridges. The first one I remember was on I-10, however, I can’t remember which one it was. I googled a little, and the one that is closest to my memory was the bridge over Lake Charles. I remember when you first come up to the bridge it’s a straight shot up, and it was lit up because it was evening time. I remember that I had been driving, but, you know, phobia, I started panicking which woke up my friend who told me to pull over. So I took an exit that was right before it and pulled over on the side of the road. She took over driving, pulling back onto the highway on another exit just north of the exit I took off, and finished driving to our destination. But I would like to say that since I began googling bridges, this bridge has had many articles written about how unsafe it is, so that’s that. The second bridge was going to Grand Isle, you know, it’s an Island off of Louisiana so there’s bridges.

So to answer this question, yes, I’ve been camping.

Heart Broken.

I talk to a dead cat every day.

January 2021, our cat Penelope had kittens. All of them died except one. I became fond of the little kitten but we had no intentions of keeping her. I was going to find her a new home. (We already had too many cats.)

After she was born I was hospitalized, y’all remember that. When I got home she had a boo-boo on the top of her head. Her mom, Penelope, && Penelopes sister, Benson, got into a fight over her and booped her head. We named her Dotty.

After a bit that spot turned black – not a bad black, she basically ended up with a dot on her head that was black. As she aged a lot of her white darkened. She ended up looking Siamese.

Her and I bonded. We got very close. I fell in love with her when she was a baby. Completely head over heels. She got older, bigger, darker. She slept with me, && would want me to hold her like a baby rocking her as she slept. I called her Babykins. She was my baby.

Two weeks ago she never came home. I waited three days before I really started to freak out. By Friday I needed her home. So I went out looking for her. Walking around our small town I knew she wouldn’t go far. I even asked a Facebook Community page for help.

I found her. 💔

I know people always tell me that they don’t see their animals as animals but as children. I never understood that. Until her. She was special to me. She made me happy. &&& I know she loved me just as much as I loved her. (Even if I did read someone say that animals don’t love us that they only seem like it because they depended on us for food.)

She was down the road. Wet. Dirty. Which was things she hated more than anything. I wish I had went looking for her Wednesday, but I don’t think it would have mattered.

We have a set of aggressive dogs on our street. Mind you, I wasn’t there && at first I thought she was hit by a car. But this past Saturday we found another one of our cats, mauled to death in our back yard. I’m about 100% sure that Babykins was killed by the dogs.

When I found her. A piece of me broke in half. I feel like I’m missing something. A small part of me. A part of my happiness disappeared with her. I picked her limp body up and carried her home with no feelings in my legs. Couldn’t see through the tears. My lungs felt empty. I couldn’t breathe.

I sat on my front porch, alone, crying holding her like I did when she was alive. Close to my chest, rocking her back and forth, crying.

I went to work the next day. I shouldn’t have. For 12.5 hours I sat at my desk and cried. I wasn’t in the correct mindset to be there. I got nothing accomplished. But I went because I had no choice.

Milo, the other cat we found, was our baby. We got him April 2018, and he was solid white && deaf. He was a rescue that we got as a kitten. We raised him. He raised the other cats. We weren’t here for his but I’m pretty sure that Lucci, another one of our cats saw it. He witnessed Milos death. I think this because he has bite marks on his back and side.

Milo

Milo had no chance && I fear that Lucci tried to help but couldn’t. Lucci is now traumatized. Any noise he hears he jumps. Stares at the doors. Won’t go outside. You can tell he is sad.

Lucci

I talk to Babykins every day I walk by her spot. We buried her next to the porch. We put Milo on the other side. They are both there and I see their spots every day.

I really miss them.

Worlds.

Trying to break into worlds is hard.

No, this isn’t about me trying to find a way into another galaxy or proving that there is life in space. What I’m stating, is facts, that when you try to break into worlds it’s hard.

The writing community is huge. A lot of book worms, writers, authors, agents, editors, etc. && trying to get welcomed into it is like trying to sit at the popular table in high school. Sadly, I was never invited.

I have never been good at popularity contests && I wasn’t part of the “in crowd” && thinking that the writing community makes me feel like that is a harsh reality. I honestly know it’s not a popularity contest… but I feel like that. I also feel if you don’t have the money to spend you’ll never be published.

I figured the best way for an unknown is to publish it myself. Which is totally fine – I don’t mind doing the hard work. But I really wanted a professional editor to read through it, find the errors but unless I can poop out nearly $3,000 that will never happen. &&& I know they are worth the money, I just don’t have it to spend.

Then I think ‘okay, let’s skip the professional editing.’ Knowing that it’s self published, “most” readers will look over a lot of them. I will just edit the crap out of it.

Next hurdle. To self-publish, you need extra money. Thousands. I found a company that helps self publish but as I began reading I realized that not only do they request thousands of dollars they also keep 80¢ on every dollar for themselves so I would only get 20¢ of every dollar sold. Whereas, if I do it all myself and use Amazon, I get 70% of the royalties.

But then I think about going with my other passion but breaking into the food world is just as hard – if not harder. I guess when they say “you need money to make money” they weren’t kidding. But sadly, here I am with no money.

I did upload a couple chapters of the book. I figured if it gets enough notice that either that company will want to publish it or it shows that if I was to save the money, step-by-step it, that people would be interested in purchasing the book.

Frost the Novel.

Frost

I have decided to step out of my comfort zone. To do so I have uploaded the first few chapters (through chapter three), so I can get feedback on it. If you happen to read it, and you like it, please hit the heart button.

I also understand that not everyone likes every book written, so it won’t hurt all of my feelings if someone doesn’t like it. But at the same time, I hope people like it.

Through that website, if it’s like && enough buzz, they would consider publishing it.

Learned Something.

In the 150 years that I have been alive I have always been told “it’s hot because of the humidity”. Okay, that’s fine, I get it.

The other night I was reading something that a friend wrote on Facebook (she lives in South Carolina) that it was In the 70’s. I stopped && thought ‘I wish it was in the 70’s here’ (104° that day). She mentioned the humidity making it extremely hot.

It got me to thinking. The hottest place I have ever been is Florida so I googled the humidity there – that day it was 78%. So I googled mine – I live in Oklahoma – ours was 34%. So I googled South Carolina – it was 34%. (Mind you, today as I write this, all three humidities are in the 70% but not the day I learned this.) That day here it was 104° &&& I felt like I was on fire.

All of this made me google the places with the highest humidity. The top five: Iowa with 82%, New Hampshire with 81%, Alaska with 81%, Maine with 80% && North Dakota with 80%. Alaska and Maine surprised me briefly until I remembered – water. Water heat. It makes your humidity sky rocket. Oklahoma sits at #34 with a 76% humidity && I cannot forget about Texas, since I was born there and I’m about 5 minutes from the state line- it sits at #29 with a 76% humidity. Deleware is the lowest with a 72% humidity.

So I learned it isn’t always the humidity. Sometimes, living in Satan’s butthole, it’s just hot.

I also think I may have been looking at the wrong numbers the other day with the 30% humidity. Today it’s 72% – though it’s 66% in Oklahoma City, 72% in Tulsa and Gage comes in at 49%. Amarillo, Texas is sitting at 58% whereas Houston is at a whopping 85% but Galveston is at 79%.

So there you have it. Todays humidity levels around Oklahoma and Texas.

Have a good day.

Walking Around the Clock.

I bought a treadmill.

&& shockingly, a part of my body didn’t try to die. (Remember jump rope?) I had it a few days before I actually used it. && I could sit here and give you a million reasons why I didn’t – but truth is… lazy.

The treadmill was on sale. && when I say it was on sale, I’m talking dropped nearly 400$. I have been wanting to buy one because I know I’ll use it. But there are still days where I’ll go outside for a walk. But with this, I have no excuse.

The last seven days I have walked a total of 2:22:20 hours, 3.83 miles && estimated calorie burn of 755. I have given myself small goals on it each day. First. I want to hit one mile. Two. I want to hit 45 minutes or more of walking. Three. I want to burn at least 200 calories. (I know the calorie count is an approximate.) I usually hit one mile first. Takes me approximately 30ish minutes. Then I hit the 200 calories. At that point, I’m just waiting to hit the 45 minute mark.

I know doctors say at least 30 minutes a day, but I figure an extra 15 isn’t going to kill me. Unless I trip – like I almost did today. So my machine has the ability to program exercises for you. I thought today I would do this tour in Louisiana that is on there through a building. Sounded exciting. It was up until it decided it need to speed up, didn’t give me any warning, and I nearly tripped and fell.

Falling on a treadmill is not on my to-do list.

Going with the 200 or more calories per workout, for five days a week, that’s 1000 calories. By gum, if I can’t lose the weight doing 1,000 calories a week – then I need to admit and accept that I’m meant to be overweight and just move on.

But even as optimistic as I am, a part of me worries that I’ve done too much damage && that I can’t reverse anything. I get, && understand that diabetes isn’t curable. It’s manageable. It’s also reversible. A part of me is scared to death that I can’t reverse it && that I have do deal with this the rest of my life. That’s even if I pull the weight off && get myself back on track.

I guess the good part of all of this? I’m out of my walking rut. Now I just have to keep going && not give myself a dumb excuse why I can’t walk one day. The only day I don’t plan on walking is Saturday’s && I’m not using an excuse. It’s the truth. I work from 5A-5:30P – by the time I get home I have enough time to make something for dinner, get to bed, just to wake up and be at work at 5A again. I’m not even going to try to exercise on Saturday’s unless I find that I am off on Sunday’s && as short handed as we are on that day – I don’t see it anytime soon.

My goal is five days. Monday through Friday. If I can hit that goal, I won’t beat myself up if I don’t walk Saturday && Sunday.

I feel as if I’m rambling. So I’m going to stop now.