Emojis At The Ranch Pen

About three years ago, our oldest son showed me how to turn on the emojis on my iPhone and it changed the way I communicate. I love emojis. They’re great. (Or, Fantastic 👌🏽 as the POTUS says.)

Like many writers, I write because it’s easier than talking. Left to my natural state, I can go days without opening my mouth to do more than mumble to myself. Imagine my delight to discover the emoji factory made it possible to communicate without the spoken or written word. 👍🏼👏🏼

I’m getting older and not very hip, so I fully identified with a funny post at the Babylon Bee (a Christian spoof news source), about a poor old pastor who responded to sad texts with the 😂 instead of the 😭 while comforting his parishioners.

One of the most enjoyable uses for emojis is conversing with the grandkids before they learn to read and talk and even afterwards. This is a portion of an emoji conversation I might have with the granddaughters:


To which I might reply:


The grandsons communications go like this:

☠️🍕🍟🍔🏹🎣🥊🤺🏍🔪💣⚔️🚬🗡 and 🔫

To which I might reply: 😳😊

(They’re all homeschooled or they would probably be expelled from their classes by now. That’s one of the disadvantages of homeschooling–mom can’t expel her students for chewing their pizza into the shape of a gun, and so forth. She would if she could some days. Don’t ask me how I know.)

The emoji factory used to include a real looking handgun in the weapons selection. It was always included in grandson transmissions to me and it was also a favorite of mine. It conveyed the expression I often use after a trying day and there is one more ridiculous thing to deal with. “Just shoot me now!” I sometimes screech. With emojis the expression could be conveyed like this:

😖 🔫

Gramps or my sis would know exactly what was meant, but a while back, the politically correct emoji police took the real looking gun out of the weapons cache and I find it irritating 😠. (And really. A water gun? Just shoot me now with a water gun! loses something along the way.)

Do the emoji police not know ⚔️🗡💣🔪🚬🤛🏼👨🏼‍⚕️🐔(bird flu ) ⚡️🔥(arson) 🌪🌭🥃🚗(drunk driving) 🥃 (alcohol related disease) 🚙 (auto crashes) 📱(texting while driving) 🔨⛓💉💊 kill way more people than guns do? Where are the rubber swords, smoke bombs, candy cigarettes, hot wheels cars, cans of root beer? 🤷‍♀️

I’m just saying. Violence is a problem of the human heart and if somebody is determined to shoot another human being, only having access to the water gun emoji in texts isn’t going to change that.

As always, thanks for reading 📖. God bless all y’all and until next time ✌🏼 and enjoy The Isaacs doing The Three Bells a song popular back in the day when the Browns did it.


Outrage Fatigue At The Ranch Pen

I know in the modern social media culture I’m supposed to be outraged morning, noon and night, but I just can’t.  I have outrage fatigue.

Farmers and ranchers only make up two percent of the population and we don’t get our way a lot these days. We are too busy scratching a living from the ground to create buzzwords on Twitter and other social media platforms to launch marches with super dumb hats, protests, and flat out anarchy.

According to the dictionary a buzzword is a word or phrase that is fashionable at a particular time or in a particular context. People often have a vague idea of what these words are supposed to mean–or no idea–but everybody’s using them so they must be important. Some popular buzzwords are holistic, diversity, empowerment, organic, wellness, sustainability.

An example. A few years ago, the McDonald’s hamburger chain hopped on the get-with-it wagon and stated that soon all their beef was going to be “sustainable” beef. Out here in the country, we were scratching our heads. What does that even mean? Sustainable for who? The cows? The beef growers? The consumer? McDonald’s? The whole entire earth? Someone in the agriculture industry asked, “Er…what does that mean?” McDonald’s bigwigs didn’t really have a definition at that time, but they were working to come up with one and they’d let us beef growers know when they hit upon it.


In real life, Gramps and I are mostly interested in sustaining us and our family, and in doing that we end up sustaining our livestock, the consumer, McDonald’s, and maybe the whole entire earth. Everybody wins–even without a buzzword that sounds good on Twitter.

Anyway, I’m on Instagram now where all is peace, joy, and love, so if you want to follow, click here. I post pictures of interest and things like this:

As always, thanks so much for reading. Until next time, God bless all y’all and enjoy Southern Raised singing Beulah Land one of my all time favorites.






Signs of Spring At the Ranch Pen

signs of spring on oklahoma wind farm

Southwest Oklahoma isn’t exactly paradise weather-wise most of the year, but we often get some warm, windless days in February. Our hopes rise like optimistic kites. Then the cold wind starts blowing again and drives our kites nose first into the ground. The weather’s nice while it lasts, though. Also, the bugs are still mostly dead except for giant greenish flies that rumble around like C-5 military transport planes. My late mother-in-law used to call the flies–what I believe must be the Latin term–themoldbroodflies.

At any rate, armed with beautiful, bug-free weather one day last week, the two nieces, JA and TL, and two grandkids, Blondie and Git’R’Done moseyed out to enjoy a long walk with the ranch dogs. Nellie and Trace are dumb and disobedient have “chase cattle” in their DNA so we kept them on leashes because of the tempting cattle to chase in the 320 acre pasture across the road. Nellie is extremely hyper and drags on her leash so much she chokes herself, so our idyllic stroll was somewhat disrupted by her occasional fits of choking, gasping, and wheezing.

The niece TL and Nellie

Trace on the other hand, is a good boy who doesn’t choke himself although he does have an embarrassing habit of sniffing people where they wish he wouldn’t.

Blondie and Trace

Blondie and Trace with Git’R’Done looking on

The cattle in the picture below are what we call stocker calves. Cattle from many places in the USA are shipped to stock winter wheat pastures in Oklahoma and Texas, thus the name “stockers”. The calves start out in the late fall at 400-500 pounds and by the time they are pulled off the wheat pastures in spring they weigh 800-900 pounds. They are then usually shipped to feed yards to be “finished” which means fattened to butcher size. I think that’s around 1200 pounds, but I’d have to check to make sure. After that, delicious Oklahoma-grazed beef is shipped to fill bellies around the world.

stockers on wheat pasture

Steers on wheat pasture

The cattle in that pasture are steers. For those who don’t know, that means castrated males, identifiable by the…er…appendage hanging from the belly. This appendage is always included in artistic drawings of cattle by the grandsons at the Ranch Pen. Some ranchers stock heifers–young females with smooth bellies, which are kind of uninteresting artistically. It all depends on the rancher’s financial and practical considerations as to whether he or she decides to pasture steers or heifers. (Gramps and I run both because we raise our own.) Steers are more expensive than heifers because males are more efficient at feed conversion and more muscular than females so they produce more meat. Heifers, however, are the future cowherd of the USA, so many of them are saved for breeding purposes.

The following pictures are just for pretty–wheat planted in the neighbor’s cotton stalks from last season.

Winter wheat in last season's cotton stalks

Winter wheat in last season’s cotton stalks. Picture by JA

oklahoma winter wheat in cotton stalks

Last season’s cotton stalks. Picture by JA

I’ve also been cleaning out the flower and vegetable pots around the place in preparation for spring. The pot below grew a ton of basil from volunteer seed last year. Gramps nor I have a drop of Italian blood in our bodies as far as I know, although we do like pizza. With basil growing wild in other pots and spots, I desperately tried to figure out what to do with it all and hit upon making pesto. A far cry from traditional southern fare like beans and taters, pesto has always sounded suspiciously Italian and scary. It wasn’t, though! The pesto was so delicious we’re hoping for another bumper crop this season.

Hopes of basil pesto live in that potI hope you enjoyed the glimpse of spring at the Ranch Pen and as always, thanks for reading. Until next time, God bless all y’all and enjoy another Geoff Moore song, Your Way Out, off his latest really good album The Next Thing.

Book Update At The Ranch Pen

winter fields, wind farm on southern plains

early morning view of peaceful winter wheat fields and wind turbines at the Ranch Pen

There’s a lot of unrest and noise in the world today, so I’m not going to add to it with anything much except the status of book three in the Love is Not Enough series.

Book three, Runs Alone Girl, has taken a long time to write. It’s another offbeat, politically incorrect book in the continuing ranch family saga set in western Colorado. In book three the Navajo character, Annie, is starting into her uneasy marriage with her choice between the two oldest Campbell brothers, Karl and Dave. The second storyline is about the newlywed cowboy character, Gil Howard, dealing with unwelcome news from his alcoholic dad, Roy. Gil’s waspy-tongued young wife, Katie, is trying to keep all the balls she juggles for her family in the air. The younger Campbell son, Tim, takes a bigger role. The characters confront a lot of hard topics–marriage problems, spiritual problems, fallout from addictions, forgiveness, what it means to be a dad, mortality. But there is some humor. And babies! Babies are one of my absolute favorite parts of life. The book has taken a lot of time and thought, even down to reexamining some of my own views so I can write it real. Plus, life has gotten in the way.

I’m not a preacher, but there was one in the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes who wrote:

 I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Which only means life happens to everybody and it doesn’t always go the way we think it will. That’s just the way it is.

Having said all that, I’m working on the last three or four chapters of Runs Alone Girl. When they come together, the book will go to my editor and to beta readers then it’ll be gone through again and again until I feel like it’s right. Everybody leaves a legacy of some sort, and these books are part of mine, so I don’t want to just slop words out there.

And speaking of legacies before I go. We’ve been Geoff Moore fans at the Ranch Pen since way back in the day, so when I learned he had released a new album called The Next Thing, I rushed over to Amazon and bought it. I can only describe the collection of songs as a legacy album and I’ve really enjoyed it.

Until next time, thanks so much for reading. God bless all y’all and enjoy Geoff Moore doing the title song from his latest album, The Next Thing.



You Think You Got It Bad At The Ranch Pen


Nellie, one of the Ranch Pen’s good ol’ dogs on a frosty morning

So, the New Year started out with a bad case of the flu, but while laid out in the old recliner feebly thumbing through the local newspaper and feeling sorry for m’self, I came across this poor fella from the Memory Lane column dated December 28, 1926 :

While the body of Mr. Poor Fella, who took his own life by drinking poison, was being lowered into the grave in the local cemetery shortly before noon, his wife and another dude were being arraigned before the justice of the peace on a charge of adultery.

Mr. Poor Fella’s belongings, consisting of a covered wagon and a team, were sold for $100 on the city streets the day before to help defray funeral expenses. The county judge sent the couple’s three children, 14, 8, 6, to the orphan’s home in the northern part of the state. The fourteen-year-old was married, but her husband had deserted her.*

The amount of human suffering in those two paragraphs immediately made me thankful for the life God has given me. Also happy Gramps hasn’t been driven by me to drink poison. Yet. I suspect some might wonder how he’s held out for thirty-five years.

At any rate, here at the Ranch Pen, we’re gonna tackle 2017 and hope for the best. And hold on to your hats, in upcoming posts I plan to answer the question, ‘Where in tarnation is book three in the Love Is Not Enough series?’ and share some best-ofs from 2016. Also, I’ll assess the experiment in which I broke out of my stuffy old mold–where I putter about happily reading dusty relics of the past–and burst into the dazzle of modern books, including Chick Lit. (shuddering at the memory, eyeballs still slightly tender from almost rolling right out of my head)

So, until next time, Happy New Year, thanks for reading, God bless all y’all, and enjoy Southern Raised doing an awesome job on I’ll Have a New Life.

*Names of people and places withheld and  “dude” substituted for the name of the adulterer. Also “team” refers to a couple of horses or mules, still very much in use in southwest Oklahoma in 1926.

Top Ranch Pen Posts 2016 #1

The top Ranch Pen post of the year is the same one as the past three years: a techie post from the farm, How to get Your iPhone to Read Your Kindle Books and Magazines to You. The day I figured this out was a groundbreaking day in southwest Oklahoma, opening up whole new worlds. There were literally two  thousands of people who were real tickled with the breakthrough.

Anyway, the process is fairly easy–but aggravating–as Voiceover isn’t the most cooperative thing in the world. For instance, I have no idea how to answer my phone if it rings while Voiceover is reading. Maybe one day, I’ll address that topic. For now, however, the easiest way to get it to read is to open your Kindle app at the correct page, tell Siri to turn on Voiceover, swipe down on the screen with your two fingers crossed, hoping for the best. Don’t forget to command Siri to turn off Voiceover when you’re done, or you’ll be standing there trying to figure out how in tarnation to answer an important callprobably have more problems than you know what to do with.

Today is my first ever techie post: How To Get Your iPhone To Read Your Kindle Books And Magazines To You Even Though It Seems Like There Should Be An Easier Way To Do It. (Like straight from the Kindle App. I’m just sayin’.) If you have your Kindle read aloud to you a lot, you might find it handy to have your books read from your iPhone, too.

Screenshot from World Magazine on Kindle App for iPhone

Random screenshot from World Magazine on my Kindle App for iPhone. Your iPhone will read this to you.

Everybody who knows me is laughing their heads off that I would tackle a tech issue, but this is something daughter-in-law #2 and I have been trying to figure out for a while. Finally, Eureka! If I’m the last iPhone/Kindle reader left alive who didn’t know how to do this, please be kind–I’m not as young as I used to be.

(****Update 2016)

Easiest way to do this operation:

#1. Open the Kindle app to the page you want to start reading.

#2. Tell Siri to turn on Voiceover.

#3. Swipe down with two fingers on the screen for continuous reading.

#4. When you’re finished reading, tell Siri to turn off Voiceover.

(***Update 9-29-2015 since iOS 9 update)

Step#1: Open your Kindle app to the book page or magazine you want to read.

Step#2: Quickly tap the home button three times. A female voice will say, “Voiceover on”.

Step #3: Swipe two fingers down the screen for continuous reading.

Step #4: When you finish, be sure and tap the home button quickly three times. The female voice will say, “Voiceover off”.

Step #5: Go ahead and live your life in real time–smell the flowers, play with your dog, look at the stars with your kids.

Thank you, whoever made this operation so much simpler than it used to be!

(**Update 6-11-2015 from Paula who left this tip on the blog comments)

There is a shortcut: If you go to settings/General/Accessibility Shortcut (at the very bottom) and check off voiceover – then you can control whether it is off or on with three taps on the home button.

If that doesn’t work for you, try the following steps.

Step #1: Open your Kindle App to whatever book or article you want read aloud.

Step #2: Then hold down the home button to activate SIRI.

Step #3: Tell Siri to turn on VoiceOver.

(When Siri turns on VoiceOver, the phone is controlled by voice commands.)

Step #4: Hold home button to activate Siri again. Tell her to open Kindle App. She will open Kindle to the page you previously opened.

Step #5: Tap the screen. Then double tap the screen to get rid of the Kindle menu.

Step #6: Swipe two fingers down the screen and VoiceOver will begin reading aloud in a female voice. (You might have to try a few times. My phone was very uncooperative until I figured it out.)

Step #7: When you have finished reading, be sure to de-activate VoiceOver by holding down your iPhone’s home button and telling Siri to turn off VoiceOver.

No need to thank any of us down here at the Ranch Pen–especially if we’re the last ones to figure out that nifty trick.

Until next time, God bless all y’all and tell your iPhone to read you some good books.



As always, thanks so much for reading. God bless all y’all and all our best wishes for a happy and prosperous 2017 as you enjoy Taylor Davis doing a fabulous job on Auld Lang Syne.

Merry Christmas From The Ranch Pen



From our house to yours, Merry Christmas! God bless all y’all and enjoy Casting Crowns and I heard The Bells On Christmas Day.

Top Ranch Pen Posts 2016 #2


image via thegraphicsfairy.com

I’m pretty sure the views of this #2 most viewed Ranch Pen post come from people searching for what in the cat-hair that emoji thing is. I bet they’re very surprised when this super-countrified post turns up.

An update on the news in the old post. The kitties grew up and one, at least, became a mother. One of of her relatives, Goldfish, is mousing about the place at this very moment. Nellie’s leg is fine and she’s a beautiful dog who runs all day long, every day, chasing things. The fizzled bull is just a distant belch, but we have three or four other herd bulls who will someday make excellent hamburgers, too. The grandson, Roper, still swims like a fish and just killed his first deer this fall to put venison in the freezer for his family.



The blog suffers at times from blog stinkerosis, also known as, the-old-gal’s-got-too-much-goin’-on-and-her-head’s-about-to-explode-look-out!. It’s a real condition. Look it up. You’ll find it under C for crazy ladies. Anyway, to get us off the fourth of July post I’ll rake through some bits of this and chunks of that to see what turns–Oh, hey! I found out something interesting. Anybody with an iPhone emoji keyboard ever wondered what this emoji thing is? 😤 My eyes are going the way of the rest of me and for the longest time (at least a week or two,) I wondered why that emoji thing was chewing on a sock. However, daughter-in-law #2 asked SIRI–our professional nag–and she said the emoji is: Huffing with anger face. 

A quick internet search revealed the emoji actually has steam coming out its non-existent nose, which I totally get, now, but I am going to call my emoji, Oh, put a sock in it, why don’t ya?.

Then we have the barn cat, Tip’s, little fuzz balls. They are fat as butter. If they’re half as good’a cats as their mother, we’ll never have a rodent problem again.

And Nellie, the three-legged dog on the eve of cast removal. Let us hope she has grown a brain in the past weeks and won’t try to bite tires again.

Gramps gathered a bunch of our cows last week for “preg” checking, only to find they were what is called “open”, meaning not bred. Gramps hauled the herd bull up to the clinic to get tested, only to find the bull had fizzled. A lot of things can cause the fizzle such as injuries or ill health, but the bull was hale and hearty, in the prime of his life, and a Don Juan among bulls, yet…nothing. To save Bully’s feelings, I won’t include a picture of his microscope slide. Since the bull weighs almost two-thousand-pounds and we don’t keep herd bulls for pets, he will be off to the livestock auction where a slaughter buyer will purchase him and he will be converted into many pounds of juicy, hormone-free and grass-fed hamburger.

And finally, a picture of the grandson, Roper, who triumphed over his terror of water a few days ago and now swims like a fish. We are really proud of him.0474



Thanks so much for reading and God bless all y’all as you listen to The Piano Guys and this beautiful performance of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

Top Ranch Pen Posts 2016 #3


image via thegraphicsfairy.com

This post entitled Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Hey!What’re You Doing to My Tractor? is the third most viewed post at the Ranch Pen and has made it into the top five thrice in the past four years. (Since reading a book entitled The Adventure of English-The Biography of a Language by Melvyn Bragg, I–and anyone who would feel compelled to mess with Mr. Longfellow’s poetry–feel that “thrice” is a more interesting choice than “three times”.)

Anyway, I have no idea why the post garners its views, but the pictures are hysterically funny (unless any of those machines belong to you, in which case, you are still real mad) and the snatch of original Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poetry is very fine. Without further ado, here’s the old cream-puff.



I’ve recycled the following pictures from an email–an oldie, but a goodie–that circulated amongst us ranchers and farmers a year or two ago. We all chuckled. And winced. And remembered when one of the kids, or the ex hired man, or even–goodness sakes–the owner/operator buried the tractor.

For those of you who drive around on paved streets and highways, I’ll attempt to explain the wrecks below.

red combine

1. Instead of The Wreck of the Hesperus  memorialized by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, we’ll call this wreck The Wreck of the Old Case International Combine. The conversation between the old sailor in Mr. Longfellow’s poem and the skipper–just berfore he wrecked the Hesperus– went like this:

The skipper he stood beside the helm,
      His pipe was in his mouth,
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
      The smoke now West, now South.
Then up and spake an old Sailòr,
      Had sailed to the Spanish Main,
“I pray thee, put into yonder port,
      For I fear a hurricane.
“Last night, the moon had a golden ring,
      And to-night no moon we see!”
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
      And a scornful laugh laughed he.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (And if you can believe Wikipedia, his granddad’s name was Peleg Wadsworth. Why don’t we ever hear cool Bible names like that anymore?)
The conversation between Dad and the kid on the cell phone went like this:
“The kid sat high within the cab,
his earbud in one ear,
and he took the call from his old man,
and never missed a gear.
Then up and spake said old man,
who’d drove that road before,
Don’t go that way, son, he said,
for I fear the road is sloughin’ off  ’round that tin horn in the wash ’cause the county’s too cheap to pay for a longer piece of culvert.
The kid pocketed his smart phone,
a scornful laugh laughed he,
For he would show his old dad,
a real combine man he’d see…”
(And I humbly beg your forgiveness for messing up your really good poem, dearly departed Mr. Longfellow)

3 trac

2. This wreck we’ll call Some Dumb Guys With Tractors. The farm wife is taking the picture for future evidence. She is saying, “Seriously? I can understand one tractor, but three? And now the trackhoe, too? But, hee hee. This picture is going to get me that new saddle. And maybe a new riding lawn mower, too.”

Tractor and planter tear down power line

3. This wreck we’ll just call, Hired Man As Soon As They Get The Juice Shut Off To Those Wires And I Get My Hands On You, You Are Dead.

tractor runs over front end loader

4. This one we’ll call, How Many Times Do I Have To Tell You To Pick Up The Bucket Before You Let Out The Clutch?

cat tractor in a mudhole

5. This one we’ll call, Don’t Text And Drive, Goober!

back hoe bucket sticking out of ground

6. Should we call this one, Wife Buries the Hatchet With the Handle Stickin’ Out But Husband Buries the Trackhoe With the Bucket Stickin’ Out…or what? I’m at a loss here.

broken windshield combine

7. And this one…my goodness. Don’t Ever Hire Somebody to Harvest Your Corn Who Huffs Hairspray While Smoking ? 

(It appears both the back and front windows have blown out, allowing the corn in the grain tank to spill through the cab and onto the platform.)

steiger tractor backs over grain bin

8. Ah, and lastly, a Steiger tractor wreck. I’m very qualified to comment since I’ve had many adventures in an old Steiger tractor. (But not this one, I pomise.) The scene could have gone like this:

“Whoa.” Me stomping on the clutch and brake.

“Whoa, now.” Jamming on every lever in the cab with hands and feet. Starting to sweat profusely. “Oh, Lord…I said whoa, now!”

Two sets of back duals hit the grain bin and start to climb. “LORD HAVE MERCY, WHOA!”

Using both my boots, I finally shove the gear lever out of reverse. Tractor lurches forward, slamming nose into gravel. Motor dies. I slump over steering wheel, shaking. Sitting at odd angle. Sneak peek over shoulder.

This is not my fault. I told him to fix the brakes.

So What Do Y’all Think?

  • Is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow one of the best American Poets ever?
  • Do you have an explanation for number 6?
  • Should Gramps have fixed the brakes like I told him to, and why didn’t I name one of my boys Peleg?



As always, thanks so much for reading. Until next time, God bless all y’all and enjoy The Gardiner Sisters with one of my all time favorite carols, Angels We Have Heard on High.

#4 Most Viewed Ranch Pen Post

All seven of the grandkids got to help decorate the Christmas tree at the Ranch Pen this year. They proclaimed it the most beautiful one they have ever done. I have to agree.


No, ol’ Danni didn’t kick the bucket back at the Ranch Pen, but it’s been a dismal year for the poor blog. Maybe next year will go better. Until then, I’ll post some of the most viewed posts from this year. Surprisingly enough, none of the posts went viral–including the fourth most viewed 2016 post, Cranky at the Ranch Pen–but here she is, anyway.


Danni with Ladybug, Roper, Git’R’Done, Blondie, and Einstein

I’ve got a cold and am a little cranky this week, so naturally my thoughts turned to the subject of “transgendered” bathrooms.  I usually avoid political and social commentary, but the past few weeks the issue of transgendered bathrooms has cropped up in the news several times and the issue is important to me. Maybe it’s because Gramps and I just took five of our grandkids on our annual trek to the horse fair and ranch rodeo at Duncan, Oklahoma, and we used the public restrooms approximately 585 times over a two day span.

Unfortunately, more and more cities and states seem to think there aren’t enough weirdos preying on women and girls, so we need to let into our restrooms the dudes who say they feel like women. (We should just take their word on that, because, hey, that’s not weird at all, and dudes like that always tell the truth.)

Since I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, I wasn’t a bit surprised when I recently read an article where one of those crackpot transgendered restroom ordinances had mysteriously gone awry and some dude had ended up terrorizing women and girls in a public restroom. One of the pro-transgendered-bathroom-use-people interviewed was completely baffled how such a thing had happened. Unfortunately, at this time there doesn’t seem to be a way to tell the trans people from just regular creeps, but take heart, the brains of the outfit are working on it.

Oklahoma is a conservative state, even has an open carry gun law (is it possible a man who said he felt like a woman would feel more like a man for long enough to do his business if he knew one of the old gals in the ladies room was packing heat?), so I hope the public bathrooms around here will stay fairly simple–as in dudes go in the door with the dude on it and girls go in the door with the girl on it. Even so, Gramps’ll keep watching out for the grandsons in the men’s room, and I’ll post a guard for the granddaughters in the ladies room and I don’t care what laws are passed, if a dude walks in where my little granddaughters are innocently doing their business there’s gonna be hair in the butter. That’s just me talkin’, but it might be time for some of us gals to start yelling our heads off about this before it’s too late.



As always, thanks so much for reading. God bless all y’all and enjoy Lauren Daigle doing a beautiful job on Noel.