Well… That’s Not Something You See Every Day

I’ve seen some pretty unusual things traveling Oklahoma roads over the years. I’ve seen those giant windmill blades being hauled down the highway. I’ve seen boats, houses, and all kinds of oversized loads. I’ve even seen tornado chasers with enough cameras, antennas, and gadgets strapped to the roofs of their vehicles.

Living in Oklahoma, I’ve even seen a pickup truck turned into a swimming pool, cruising through town with a bunch of teenagers splashing around in their own portable swim tank. I’ve seen people ride horses through the drive-thru at a burger joint and cool their horses off at the car wash. Truth be told, I can’t judge too much… years ago, I used to cool my daycare kids off at the car wash on our field trip walks back to the center! But today topped all of that.

I was driving through town, sitting at a stoplight, minding my own business, when a truck drove right past me… pulling a helicopter.

A. Helicopter.

Not a toy one. Not a picture of one. An actual helicopter rolling down the road behind a pickup truck.

I just sat there staring, wondering if I was seeing things. It definitely woke me up more than my coffee did!

Of course, the one time I see something that bizarre is the one time my phone is buried in my purse because I was driving responsibly. I always have my phone with me, but never in my hand while I’m driving. By the time I found it, the helicopter was long gone. Figures!

Then I started laughing because it reminded me of Matthew.

Years ago, Matthew had a little fender bender and blamed it on a helicopter. He said one was landing right beside the road, he looked up to watch it, and… well… the car in front of him stopped before he did. I thought that was the dumbest excuse I’d ever heard.

“Oh, sure, Matthew. The helicopter made you hit the car.” We’ve laughed about that story for years. But sitting there at that stoplight today, watching a helicopter roll past me on a trailer, I had one very humbling thought… Thank goodness this light is red, because if I had been driving instead of sitting there, there’s a pretty good chance I’d have been explaining to my insurance company, “Well… you see… there was this helicopter…”

So, Matthew… I owe you an apology. I finally believe you. I’m still going to tease you about it… but now I completely understand.

Grief and Practicality Can Coexist

Did you know I can be sad and practical at the same time? I'm pretty efficient that way.

For some reason, people seem to believe that if you're grieving, you shouldn't be thinking about anything else. As if making plans, asking questions, or handling responsibilities somehow means you aren't hurting enough. But that has never made sense to me.

Life doesn't stop because your heart is breaking. There are still decisions to make and things that need your attention. Taking care of them doesn't lessen your love or mean you're ready to let go. It simply means the world keeps turning, whether we're ready for it or not.

I think people underestimate our ability to carry more than one emotion at a time. I can be heartbroken and still think ahead. I can be overwhelmed and still be responsible. I can miss someone with every part of me while doing what needs to be done.

The human heart has room for all of it. We can cry while making plans. We can smile at a memory and ache with loss in the very same moment. We can prepare for tomorrow without wanting today to end.

Two things can be true at the same time. Grief doesn't erase responsibility, and practicality doesn't diminish love. Sometimes it's simply another way we care for the people and the things that matter most, even while we're learning how to live with their absence.

A Light Bulb Moment About Fascism

Things are clicking for me.

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why some liberals are just so politically angry ALL. THE. TIME (And let’s take their style out of it for a minute—which often seems to scream, “Look at me!”) So many of the loudest voices come across as spoiled children who were never told no, actors and actresses who are used to being the center of attention, and people who seem heavily entitled.

I looked up the definition of fascism because that word gets thrown around constantly by people who suffer from TDS—Trump Derangement Syndrome. The level of anger, outrage, and obsession with one man has always made me wonder what is really driving it.

One definition said fascism puts the nation above individual interests. And that’s when the light bulb came on for me. It seems like that’s exactly what some people hate. Everything becomes about individual wants, individual feelings, and individual demands. They say they care about others, but sometimes it feels like they mainly care about people who think exactly like they do. But in a country of over 300 million people, no government can meet everyone’s personal wants and needs. At some point, leaders have to make decisions based on what they believe is best for the country as a whole.

Then I looked at the rest of the definition, and honestly, America doesn’t fit it.

A fascist government is centralized and authoritarian. Ours isn’t. Power is divided between the federal government, states, and local governments.

Fascism suppresses opposition. America doesn’t. People protest, criticize politicians, attack the government online, and vote leaders out of office every day.

A fascist leader has near-total control. Our presidents don’t. They can be blocked by Congress, challenged in court, investigated, and voted out.

And fascism suppresses certain groups. America protects the rights of racial, religious, and political minorities and allows people to live and speak freely.

The biggest thing that stood out to me? The fact that we can openly argue about whether America is fascist is proof that we aren’t. In a truly fascist country, people don’t usually get to publicly accuse their government of being fascist without consequences.

That was my light bulb moment.

You Asked, I Answered, And Now Your Mad?

Have you ever noticed that some people don’t actually want your opinion?

They say they do. They ask for advice. They ask, “What do you think?” But what they really mean is… “Please confirm that I’m right, they’re wrong, and I have every reason to feel exactly the way I do.” 😂

Because the second you look at the situation and say, “Well… I kind of understand the other person’s side too,” suddenly YOU become the problem.

Wait… what? You asked me!

I think we have confused support with automatic agreement. Being a good friend, family member, or even a random person giving advice does not mean I have to blindly tell you that you are right. Sometimes the people who care enough to tell you the truth are the ones you should actually listen to.

And this is where the “Pitiful Pearls” come in. You know the ones. The people who collect problems like jewelry and wear them around for everyone to see.

Nothing is ever their fault. Nothing can be fixed. Every solution has an excuse attached to it. They don’t want a ladder to climb out of the hole — they want you to climb in there with them and talk about how unfair the hole is.

I just don’t understand that mindset.

I’m a fixer. I’m a fighter. I have been knocked down plenty of times in life, but my first thought is always, “Okay… what now? How do we fix it? How do we get better? What did I learn?”

I might sit in my feelings for a minute — because I’m human — but I’m not moving in and decorating the place. 😂

If something hurts my feelings, those feelings are mine. I can acknowledge them without needing 20 people to validate them. And if I ask for someone’s opinion, I better be prepared that they might not see it the same way I do.

That’s called growth.

The truth is, someone disagreeing with you does not mean they attacked you. Someone offering a different perspective does not mean they are against you.

Sometimes the thing you don’t want to hear is exactly the thing you need to think about.

And sometimes the best advice doesn’t come wrapped in sympathy and a bow. Sometimes it sounds like:

“Get up. Learn from it. Do better. Move forward.”

And honestly? Those are usually the people who helped me the most. 😉

Apparently, I’m Aging

I’ve decided I’m done with filters.

Not the funny ones that put bunny ears on your head. I’m talking about the little skin-smoothing filters that magically erase every wrinkle, soften every line, and make you look like you slept twelve hours, drank a gallon of water, and have never experienced stress a day in your life.

I’ve used them. Not a lot. I never tried to make myself look twenty years younger or fifty pounds thinner. Just enough to soften things a bit.

But lately… I’m tired of it.

The truth is, I was never the photogenic one. My daughter could look at a camera from across the room and somehow end up looking like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. Me? I could take fifty pictures and somehow blink in forty-nine of them.

It is what it is.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized something. Someday my grandkids are going to look through pictures of me. I don’t want them wondering who that airbrushed woman was. I want them to see me. The woman who laughed too hard, stayed up too late writing, worried too much, loved fiercely, and earned every one of those little lines around her eyes.

Those wrinkles? They came from 61 years of living.

The gray hair? It showed up because time keeps moving.

My face changed because I’m supposed to change.

I have single friends who may still be trying to catfish the dating world. 😂 More power to them. But I’ve been married for years. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending my face doesn’t know what year it is.

So this is me.

No more hiding every line. No more smoothing away the evidence that I’ve actually lived.

My digital image may change. My body will keep changing. That’s part of getting older, and honestly… I’m okay with that.

What I’m not okay with anymore is pretending to be someone I’m not.

If you see a picture of me from here on out, chances are you’re getting the real deal. So from here on out what youvseebisbehatvuiunget. what you see is what you get. Wrinkles, gray hair, laugh lines, and all. Because growing older is real… and so am I.