Did I Have Oatmeal In My Mouth? But Before You Answer That, Call the Police, I’ve Been Robbed!

Okay, that was a long title. But this is a really long post, so it should have a long odd title.

Dear Reader, please do not feel obligated to read it or even finish the whole thing once you start. I do not hold that you must belong to the clean plate club around here, I would be sad indeed if I knew I caused indigestion. I only desire that you have fun (well that and grow in Christ and tell me when I am not). So if you have somewhere else to go, something fun to do, go do it, this is no place for you to be today.




I was robbed this afternoon. I’m sure it would barely make it as a misdemenor but it is upsetting none the less.

It was no burglery either, this woman, young woman, walked boldly into my house today and ripped me off. The item was only worth twenty-five bucks but the feeling of helplessness that overcame me was awful. I have never felt anything like it.

Not to mention she chatted with me as if it was no big deal. The boldness these days.

I was going to sell Christmas Kitty’s brother in the next week or two and instead this woman just came and took him. And if she thinks that bringing me some fluffy coffee-esque drink from her place of business and a pound of coffee beans makes up for the theft she has got another thing coming. I get those from her anyway, almost once a month, for nothing. And now somehow she thinks waltzing in here with a coffee in her hand entitles her to waltzing out with my product!

I’m telling you, children, even grown ones have no respect these days. And her sister, Anna, so willing to aid and abet. What is this world coming too?

And on top of that she probably won’t name him what he is supposed to be named. It will be another “Questie” aka “I Have A Question” debaucle but at least Mr. Woolsey’s people paid for him, paid for the right to ignore my better naming skills. But this chick, an ex Vick Chick, just hauled “Seven Dirtson” outa here with a snicker about his name.


Come on folks, who of you can deny that that is clearly a seven on his chest and that he is sporting a goatee thingy that looks just like Dirt’s. On top of that, those close to Dirt know all about his freaky attachment to the number seven, the number of completeness. This is a complete cat! And she just took it. I’m not so sure she even said thank you. I know her husband won’t. (I’m thinking he is saying something entirely different tonight actually, poor guy.)

You know, now that I think about it, I’ll bet I coulda gotten way more for him. Mildred, how much do you think they got for Heartkun? I bet he didn’t go for no stinking twenty-five bucks and how hard is it to find heart-shaped stuff, Sharilyn, at It’s A Heart Rock Life, finds heart shaped stuff all over the place. She has a zillion things heart-shaped. Anybody out there got a blog about finding seven-shaped stuff? I don’t think so.

And wouldn’t that be cool, stuff shaped like the number for completeness. You could go freaky with all the hidden meaning of that, so clearly the fact that no one has a blog about seven-shaped stuff indicates that there are not any random not-really-sevens-seven-shaped items out there and therefore my cat that was stolen from my house today is highly valuable. I’m thinking grand theft valuable.

Add on to that that he has an uncanny resemblance to the master of the house he was born in, who has an eccentric fondness for seven, the number of completeness and you’ve got a million dollar cat theft performed today. (Or is that “who” supposed to be a “whom”? I always have problems with that problem, I think it should be “whom” ‘cuz it refers not to the subject but it just sounds weird. Help me out Kathy, you are good at that “who” “whom” stuff)

Oh well, I suppose because I cheerfully waved good-bye to her and handed her the shots for the cat she has at home, it would be hard to pin this grand theft on my second oldest daughter, Michelle, I suppose it really wouldn’t make sense and no one would understand me. Kind of like when I wrote my last post. I musta had oatmeal in my mouth cause somebody did not understand me.




No, Wingmaster, I will not be drinking any of Dirt’s Appletini disguised as wine while thinking of politics. Clearly even having had it in the home and perhaps previously drinking it (I reserve the right to retain deniablity) has caused me to be terrible at getting my point across.

Daisy, I appreciate your encouragement and support but clearly I am not a very good writer even though you are so kind to tell me that sometimes.

Because in my post on Thursday I could have sworn that I did not make any reference to my being fearful.

I could have sworn I did not say that I hated anyone, including anyone in the current President’s political party, of which I am a registered member and have, up until this year, voted as such (or for some third party party) in Presidential elections since I was eighteen.

I could have sworn that I never denied the Soveriegnty of God, in this or any other post, and in fact stated something to the effect that I was glad I knew Him because He never changes and my salvation rests with Him, in Jesus, not my government no matter who is at the helm.

I could have sworn that I explicitly said that I was not talking about policies like: two wars, the economy, the creation of gitmo, Americans torturing prisoners, illegal phone tapping of Americans, the lowering of taxes, increases in spending or abortion or the disregard of the rights of certain citizens.

I could have sworn that I said that by actually saying-writing: “I’m not at this point even really speaking of his policies, policies that include spending ridiculous amounts of money on programs shown to be corrupt and hindering at worst or ineffectual at best, or having us spend government funds for people choosing foolishness and the murder it takes to dispose of the resulting inconvenience. I’m speaking of something far more insidious. “

So I must have had oatmeal in my mouth or sumpin’ because Don is really nice guy (an opinion based on reading his blog) who is in the eduction field, has cool chicks (baby chickens), and a georgeous barn and builds really nice picnic tables for his school’s fundraisers.

So I guess I owe an apology to anyone else who misunderstood what I was saying. If anyone thought that I was saying that our nation is perfect just the way it is, I am sorry because I know it is not. But it has also done some amazing things in the past and the basic ideology that defines America is a darn good one and one that has helped her through her mistakes and has enabled corrections which are by no means complete.

And don’t we all misunderstand one another most of the time?

Sometimes I become so frustrated at the misunderstandings that I come away with when I read something. If I would just slow down and take a good look at something I am sure that I would not misunderstand half of what I do. Like how I misunderstood, I’m sure, that I was being told that I have the power, little ol’ me, to thwart all the good leadership President Obama could give us because I have a closed spirit. (What is a closed spirit? I think I do have one because it is hopefully soley under the ownership of the Triune God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, so I guess that would be closed because I have no intention of selling it to anyone else.)

So clear over here, all the way across this huge great country of ours, I have the ability to make Obama a bad leader, because I have a closed spirit because I think, based on analysis of his own words and history, that he has some dangerous things up his sleeve. Now that is just a crazy idea so I really must have misunderstood that comment.

Because if Obama is a great leader, I cannot stop him. I would certainly not even want to. The idea is kinda funny because my closed spirit is the same spirit that leads me, nay commands me then leads me, to I pray that he is a good leader and that he will listen to the God he claims to follow, the very same God that my spirit is sold out to. So clearly I misunderstood that comment.

But thank goodness I just write on this here (well and two other) blog(s), and that I don’t write anything important. It is a good thing that no one is forced to read my incoherant mush mouth writings, unless it is their funny bone forcing them to read it for my ridiculous ideas.

I usually don’t write follow up on comments that bother me, but really all joking aside this one really touched me because it really made me feel misunderstood. But unfortunately I am a slow learner, very very very slow. So it will take me a few more outspoken posts that someone is going to misunderstand that I will feel I need to clarify, before I shut up about our country and just write sweet little posts about skinning moles.

Which isn’t to say that people only mis-read what I say on these serious political-ish type posts. But I usually never feel the need to clarify when someone says cake when I wrote that I made a pie or calls my sheep chickens or wonders why my son Anna rides a quad.


If there is only one thing Dear Reader that I hope you know about me is that my hope lies with God and God alone. And that hope is very different from the hope that says “I hope the weather is nice tomorrow,” or “I hope Obama is a good leader.” Because I will stake my life on my hope in God but I will not stake my life on the weather or a leader, although I hope that if I feel it is God directed I would be willing to lay down my life for my country. Please understand that my political concern is not that I think that the beauty of my life depends on who is in office, locally, nationally or otherwise. Any beauty or comfort or assurance in my life comes from God.

Also Dear Reader, I wish to put to rest the idea that I am afraid. I am not fear-filled. My trust in God prevents me from being afraid. However, I can recognize a dangerous situation. (Some might call it discernement.) I can recognized that it is a little more dangerous for me to attempt to stand on the top rung of my sixteen foot ladder than it is for me to do so on my ten foot ladder. But I am not afraid of my ladder, (okay, my adrenaline surges when I look down but I’m not afraid.)

It is dangerous for my kids to walk on ice that is not tested, but I am not afraid of the frozen pond. It is dangerous for a leader to go unchecked and for nearly everyone to say no one can say anything critical of him, but I am not afraid of leaders or even afraid of those who are unwilling to be critical of a current leader but I can choose to not read their anti American rhetoric.

But I am not afraid. I trust God no matter how bad things look or actually become. I have nothing else.