Monthly Archives: May 2015

Old Clive owes America a giant wad of money


Just roared into southern Oregon while ago after having left Tulsa on 5/26 and driving back in a car that’s new (to me.) Here’s what I learned: the term “Classic Rock” doesn’t always mean what I hope it will, nor what I think it should.

I also learned that I have kind friends across the nation who are willing to put up with me for a night and on very short notice.

One last thing I learned: driving across northern Nevada is unbelievably boring, despite the fact that the damp, salty sand of the Bonneville Salt Flats comes right up to the highway. Around Elko, Nevada, I began looking for that Tea Party darling, Cliven Bundy, hoping that I could run over him with my new car. Old Clive owes America a giant wad of money and it doesn’t appear he will be repaying us anytime soon, so I figured out this is one deadbeat we can do without. Alas, I didn’t see him, so I kept driving, hatching another plan. I know, I know, it’s not very Zen of me. Or Christian. Or even kind. But, as we all know by now, I hold a grudge. And road trips don’t bring out the best in me. Glad I am home. JS


Is Mercury in retrograde?


Mercury must be in retrograde. Or something. I’d like to be able to blame the series of SNAFUs that have happened to me since I’ve been in Tulsa on something other than just me and I’d want to know that if, indeed, Mercury is doing its double-cross dance across the sky and sending screw-ups raining down on us all that it will end soon. Before Thursday, is my hope, because I’ll be hopping into a car on that day and driving back across the nation to Oregon and I’d like to envision my trip as one of clear sailing and not dodging one crisis after another or careening from catastrophe to catastrophe along the interstate highway system of America. I’ve done that one before. Read my book, DEAD IN A DITCH – Growing Up in Texas & Other Near-Death Experiences, to find out just how all of that happened.

When I first arrived here last week, while extricating an avocado pit in the most stupid way imaginable, I stabbed the underside of my forefinger knuckle with a knife point. For someone who uses her hands in her work, this is not ideal. Liquid Bandage and peanut oil with arnica in it, however, has allowed me to work and it’s been okay. Thanks to my friend Kay Sheehan for that idea.

Two days ago, after an elderly client left, I noticed the rug in the room where I work was rucked up from the walker she uses to help her get around and I thought: OH, I REALLY NEED TO FIX THAT RUG SO NOBODY TRIPS ON IT. Well. Of course, I completely forgot about it until I went walking back into that room at full bore and tripped on the rug myself which sent me crashing onto a little table and into the wall. I didn’t hit my head – something I’m always terrified of doing now – but both shoulders and my right knee are pretty stove up and there’s a dark purple bruise the size of a Nerf football on my lower left side. So, now I am taking anti-inflammatories and smearing Arnica gel all over me and shuffling along like Tim Conway.

Then, of course, as I reported yesterday, I spent the first of my waking hours trapped behind a stuck door which wouldn’t open until my friend Lynda Jacobs came over and smacked it hard with both hands to pop it free and liberate me from doom and/or boredom.

On the good side, I’ve done some really good work on some really great people, which always makes my heart smile. And, I learned that every one of the clients I saw yesterday would have driven over here in the dark to save me if they had known I needed help. A couple were actually kind of disappointed that they didn’t get the call. Sweethearts.

So, I’m hoping this is just the messy shenanigans of Mercury doing his retrograde malarkey dance in the sky. And, I’m hoping he’s done with it by Thursday. Just in case, though, if you live between Tulsa and southern Oregon and you have access to a four-wheel drive vehicle, extra skis, a big inner tube, or a shotgun, you might send me a personal FB message with your phone #. If Mercury doesn’t get his act together and start behaving himself by Thursday, you’ll probably be hearing from me. JS


Damsel in Distress


I am not often a damsel in distress, but this morning I was.

Awoke @ 5:30am to visit the bathroom. The old bedroom door in this old, but lovely, house got stuck and would not open. Nobody here but me and the dog and she’s no help. So, I am stuck in a bedroom on the 2nd floor and can’t get out. I pull and tug until the door knob falls off.I manage to woogie the pins out of the door hinges but, still, the door is stuck and so am I.

Called my friend Lynda Jacobs and left a message. Luckily, in her sleep, she heard it and managed to call me back. She and her dog, Harley, came over and saved me. Phew. Plus, we had a great talk, which is something that always happens when Lynda shows up in my life. Still saving me after all these years. JS


Stormy in Tulsa


Rainy, stormy night here in Tulsa. Bad storms and tornadoes are around somewhere, although not here, not right now.

I did 6 rolfing sessions today, ate some delicious soup and salad for dinner, ran a couple of errands and beat it back to Kay & Stephen’s before the big rains hit. Now, I am pooped.

Stay safe and warm, everyone. Hard to believe it’s almost the end of May and I’m sitting here in a fleece jacket in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Don’t think climate change is upon us, Sen. Inhofe? You might want to re-think that one. JS



Finishing up my rolfing trip to Lubbock today. Many thanks to my friends Cheryl Benoit and Melody Ogletree, owners of The PforymWELL Center, for hosting me to work in such a great place, as well as for the nice bed in which to lay my sleepy head each night.

Many thanks, also, to rolfing clients here in Lubbock whose Texas accents and kind hearts remind me of things so good and pure about my home state, things I still miss since I moved away so long ago.

Also, I just need to say this: I LOVE COWBOYS. I grew up around them. I love their dusty boots and crumpled hats and their shirts and Wranglers starched stiff as road signs, reminding me that some ranch wife loves them, too, someone who sends them out into the world each day looking as good as she can get them to look, for a while, anyway. Makes my heart smile. JS


Over 50? Get a Colonoscopy!


Thank you so much for your prayers & thoughts, everyone. A family member had a colonoscopy last week and they found (and removed) a 3 inch mass hiding back, which was laden with pre-cancerous cells.

He’s on antibiotics now to ward off infection and he will have to be cautious and conscientious about regular colonoscopies going forward, but I think he’s going to be okay. What a relief.

So, to all of my over-50 friends, if you have not had a colonoscopy, I STRONGLY URGE you to do so.

The first one I had, my doctor looked right out of Jr. High. Of course, they give you this happy juice to get ready (probably big mistake in my case) so you’re liable to say ANYTHING, which I did. So, my middle school doc walks in and I say, “Finish your paper route?”

And he replies, “Ha-ha.”

I look at him with my crossed eyes and ask, “How old are you, anyway…Son?”

And he replies, “Old enough.”

I stared at him some more before I said, “I bet I’ve got polyps older than you!” Turns out, I did, BUT NOT ANYMORE!

So, please, my friends, GET YOUR COLON CHECKED! Caught early enough, colon cancer is totally treatable, and a colonoscopy is not as bad as you might think – it’s the prep that’s the challenge. Okay. Rant over. Hugs. JS


a toad-choker of a storm


Wow – a real toad-choker of a rain storm last night here in Lubbock. A little bit of hail was in the mix, too, although not as bad as some places south of Lubbock got smacked with. I know people tend to think that Texans exaggerate – and, it’s true, we do – but, really, never about the weather. We don’t have to.

Wowza, what a storm. JS


HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, Mother! 2015


Tomorrow is Mother’s Day which, for those of us who are now without our Moms on this earthly plane, is always a little melancholy – not terrible, but just adds to my missing her.

I know we all tend to think ours was the very best one, which is always okay. I don’t think it’s something we need to squabble over. Mine could make me crazy and froth at the mouth over politics and religion. We would almost draw swords over those issues, so, wisely, we tried to steer each other away from those hot-button points, especially as I got older and she became ill. Besides, it’s hard to have a good fight with someone who is struggling to breathe, which she was, and it made my heart hurt to see her like that. I like relishing my sweet memories of her – hugging close to me the memories that roll around in my brain like old friends come to call. I loved her beauty and her laugh and how making her laugh was always our treasure, like some swell secret her five kids knew how to do.

Was she perfect? No. But, she was the perfect Mom for me, the one from whom I learned determination and humor, compassion and how to go out with a concealed hand in canasta…how to do a hook slide into 2nd base…and how to get back up on horse that had just thrown me (after I chased it across a pasture to catch it.)

Was she the very best Mom in the world, ever? Maybe. It doesn’t matter if she got the title or the ribbon; she was the very best Mom for me. Her love kept us all afloat, I know that, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. So, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, Mother! I still miss you every day. JS


Odd conversations


Stef and I have the oddest conversations sometimes. For example, this afternoon she had her Nikon out with the giant, bazooka-shaped lens and was photographing a black spider on the post by the gate. He had funky-looking, sorta turquoise-neon eyeballs and fangs to match. Every so often, he’d rise up and bare his fangs at the lens, like that would frighten it away.

“Whoa,” she said, “I think I’m just really making him mad.”

“Is he the kind of spider who flings himself at you and bites?” I asked. I know very little about spiders except to give them their space.

“I’m not sure,” she said, “but, if he flings himself at me, I’m going to scream like a girl.”

I thought for a second. “You realize I won’t be saving you from this, if he attacks,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“If he attacks, you’re completely on your own,” I reminded her.

She let out a little sigh of exasperation. “I know,” she said.

I continued, “Because you might scream like a girl, but if that spider attacks, I will crash through the fence and race down the street, squealing like Tarzan’s girlfriend, just know that.”I saw her eyes start to glaze over, but that didn’t slow me down. “Now, if your spider bite gets infected, I will put ointment on it for you, and if your body goes septic because of a nasty spider bite, I’ll drive you to the hospital but, just remember, fighting off the spider is totally up to you and, if I were you, I’d quit doing whatever it is I was doing to piss him off. But, that’s just me.”

She lowered the camera for a moment and stared at me. “Jody,” she said.

“Hmmm?” I replied.

She pointed toward the door. “Go inside,” she said.

And, so, I did. JS