I’m not gay. But I love people and their life stories matter even if it’s not like mine. Romance is romance.

If I were a tree.....

One a trip back from Red River one year.  Tanner was lazily looking out the window and enjoying the passing scenery.  He saw a big lone cottonwood tree out in the middle of a field.  

Tanner:  Look at that tree.  If I were a tree, I would want to be that one.  Left alone, plenty of room to grow,  providing shade for cows..... that's a nice tree.

Then he looked at me and asked.  

Tanner:  Mom,  what kind of tree do you think you would be?

Without even waiting for me to answer Dennis chimed in

Dennis:  She'd be a cactus!

My mother, the President

My mom is living her best life in an assisted-living community. She's basically the queen bee, having landed the gig of resident president. It sounds fancy, right? Her main job is to be the voice of the people, bringing every little grievance to the staff's attention. Except, here's the twist - she's really not into the whole 'complaint department' vibe. Instead, she's all about turning complaints into reasons for a fiesta.

Why fuss, she argues? In her eyes, the place is practically utopia. They cook for her, clean for her, even mop and sparkle up the bathroom - it's like living in a hotel that you never have to check out of. There's entertainment on tap, and should anything dare to break, it's fixed in a jiffy. "What's there to gripe about?"

However........ my mom does have one beef - and it's not with the service. Nope, it's with a fellow resident she finds less than delightful. This lady apparently missed the memo on being kind and Oh, the drama unfolded like a scene right out of a daytime soap opera!

Picture this: This lady made the classic mistake of crossing words about one of my mom's children.... That's right, they poked the mama bear and the ladies at my mom's table - you know, her loyal squad - had to practically form a human barrier to prevent a full-on "lights out" scenario. My mom, being the queen of sass and class, delivered a comeback so epic, not anything like: "hold-my-earrings" but more of a explanation on how my mom was going to knock her dentures out of her head. This lady could do nothing but retreat. She scurried away, tail between her legs.

A few sunsets later, this lady waltzes back into the drama, toting a big ol' apology in her hand. My mom, in a move that could only be described as classic her, accepts the apology. Then the lady wanted to know if they could now be friends now and my moms response was a hard NO! She basically said, "Look, honey, I've seen how you treat the folks here, and it's not pretty. Rudeness is a friendship deal-breaker for me!"

Moral of the story? My mom might not be running around fixing the world's problems (or even the minor inconveniences of her living community), but don't cross her family, or you'll get a candid piece of her mind. It's comedic gold – a sitcom episode in the making.

My mom, ladies and gentlemen, the non-complaining, party-loving, straight-talking president of her assisted living place.

Mom Shaming...

Have we reached a parenting low, or is it just me? Moms are too busy perfecting their fake lashes and scrolling through social media to hear their kids' cries. Dare to point this out, and they play the "offended" card, labeling you a mom shamer! Is telling the truth about harmful parenting now off-limits? Does "mom-shaming" shield moms from taking responsibility when their actions harm their children? While some worry about borders and politics, I'm fretting over the silent victims of struggling mothers who are missing the mark on motherhood!

Moms have found a sneaky loophole in parental duties – handing an iPad or game remote to keep the kids entertained. The fridge might be packed with sugary, preservative-loaded snacks, but are kids learning how to socialize? As moms aim for TikTok stardom, their kids might end up in a sugar-induced coma. Screens have become babysitters, leaving no space for real conversations. Are children being raised or simply tolerated? We already know the answer. That's what's sad.

Which Came First? Procrastination or Stress? It's a vicious cycle I can't break

Some might say I'm the reigning champion of "I'll do it later" land, with a gold medal in procrastination. Truth be told, this habit turns me into a bit of a stress-ball. You might think that intentionally turning my life into a pressure cooker sounds like a recipe for disaster, but surprise—it's actually my secret sauce for brilliance!

See, without the adrenaline rush of a looming deadline, my productivity is pretty much a sleepy sloth. Yes, I’m aware of my tasks and where I need to be, but somehow, the motivation plays hide and seek with me—and it's really good at hiding. Time? Oh, that slippery little thing means nothing to me, making my day-to-day a juggling act where I'm constantly dropping the balls.

I keep pondering if there'll come a day when I ditch this merry-go-round for a more straight-laced approach to tasks.

Procrastination and stress, the dynamic duo that somehow gets me to the finish line—albeit looking like a mad scientist who's just had a eureka moment after days of no sleep. The plot twist? The pressure cooker method, while slightly bonkers, turns out to be my strange muse.