Quanah Parker "...is arguably the perfect representative of the good, bad and ugly of the treaties, tribes and tumult of America's westward expansion."
We do not become good so that God will love us. Rather, it is the love of God that makes us good.
Quanah Parker is arguably the perfect representative of the good, bad and ugly of the treaties, tribes, and tumult of America’s westward expansion. Quanah’s story is remarkable and more particularly, his mother’s story is a plotline in many of great movie westerns. Indeed, hers is a remarkable tale as well.
Growing up in Apache, Oklahoma I had school mates who were direct descendants of the Comanche Indian chief, Quanah Parker. Parker has many descendants. He married seven times, though he never kept more than three at a time. When an Indian Agent told him that he would have to choose only one wife, Quanah replied, “You choose and you tell ‘em.” Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Relationship before Rules – Part II→
Everyone has a bucket list. You know, that list of stuff you want to do before your time is up. For sports fans, the bucket list consists of far-fetched wishes like visiting every major league baseball stadium, attending all four tennis grand slams, or buying tickets to game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. Many fans enjoy immersing themselves in the excitement of the game, which is why they love tuning in to 스포츠중계. The perfect sports getaway is a possibility that exists in our dreams but usually not in our bank accounts. You’ll often hear fans say “Wouldn’t it be awesome if…?” They speak as if there’s some sort of magical sports genie who will one day grant all their wishes to see the biggest games and meet the biggest stars.
What isn’t talked about, are sports nightmares. That’s right; those are the events you would never want to see. They are the games you would consider a form of pure torture to have to sit through. Maybe the sports genie turns out to be evil and you are subjected to some of the worst moments a fan could ever experience. You would rather spend an entire day at the mall shopping with your wife, than be granted free tickets to any of these events. You would volunteer to attend a wedding on a college football Saturday before you’d volunteer to watch even a minute of these competitions.
So here they are, ten of the most painful, and mind-numbingly brutal events a sports fan could ever be forced to witness.
Turn in your man card…now. (courtesy news.xinhuanet.com)
I know these fellas can do some amazing tricks on ice, but as a dude, it’s never okay to put on spandex and glitter and be happy about it. Start competing in regular clothes and maybe you’ll earn a shred of my respect, although even a pair of khakis or a designer suit can’t make up for all the prancing and jazz hands. It’s embarrassing to watch a grown man wearing six pounds of makeup and a flesh colored leotard. I don’t know how people watch this without squirming at the utter absurdity of the whole sport. The only thing more humiliating than participating in men’s figure skating is admitting that you watch men’s figure skating. This has to be the reason why people first started putting two TV’s in their home.
"Gamma" photo from the Davey Pattison Gallery: http://www.daveypattison.com/gallery/index7.html
Several months ago I was cooking breakfast for the kids. It was a weekday morning before school and my wife was getting ready for work. Kind of an oddity, I suppose, around our house (my wife is a chef) but on weekdays it is either me or my son who cooks breakfast. I suppose we cook out of necessity since one of us is usually dressed and ready before the girls make it downstairs.
Anyway, I decided to have a little breakfast cooking music and put on my vinyl copy of Thin Lizzy’s “Live and Dangerous.” One of the finest “live” albums ever released.
Yes, I know it has studio overdubs. I don’t care.
Soon after, my wife came downstairs, looked at me, smiled and proclaimed, “You’re such a guy.” Reflecting on that moment gave me an idea: Music from the Man Cave. Recommendations by a guy for other guys. Not that girls can’t listen too….
First up (we’ll get to Thin Lizzy soon, I promise) is a blast from my past. I acquired a cassette copy of the second album from a band called Gamma, featuring Ronnie Montrose on guitar, Davey Pattison on vocals, Denny Carmassi on drums, Glen Letsch on bass and Jim Alcivar on keyboards. This cassette spent a lot of time in my Walkman knockoff and I rediscovered it a couple years back. It has a terrific remake of Thunderclap Newman’s “Something In The Air” but the song that I really want to recommend is called “Voyager”. You can buy it for .99 on iTunes, or check out the YouTube clip at the bottom of this post.
Those closest to me know that I could probably be the poster child for all “Type A” personalities. I am innately driven and responsible. I also take myself a little too seriously at times. I occasionally try to be funny, with mixed results. You get the picture.
However, not everything that happens TO me is of a serious nature. In fact, I’ve had numerous OMG! and giggle-worthy experiences in my lifetime which I think are worthy of sharing with loyal RDC readers.
Before I jump right in, let me just say that time and perspective are very powerful. Not only were these experiences NOT funny at the time, at least one of them was downright scary. But, today I grant permission to laugh at my misfortune! Without further ado, here are a few of my favorite stories.
Many moons ago, I traveled with a co-worker to Minneapolis for a conference. Unfamiliar with the area but with some free time on our hands, we asked our concierge about the best way to get to the Mall of America and were directed to use the bus system. I had never been on a city bus nor had I witnessed what goes on in big-city downtown areas, so I was excited for some new experiences. Boy was I in for a new experience!
As we waited in frigid temperature, I noticed a group of individuals clustered down the block. One man, dressed in very old and dirty clothing, looked to be “preaching” to the others while the rest were waving their arms in the air. I heard broken phrases but otherwise paid little attention to their behavior. A moment later, as I was telling my friend that I could no longer feel my fingers, I heard heavy footsteps coming in my direction. I quickly realized someone was addressing me. I turned around to face the man, who asked me for a cigarette. I responded casually that I did not smoke and he immediately retreated. With my encounter over, I began to make a funny comment about the odds of ME being confronted by the Minneapolis homeless. Pretty soon, however, I heard footsteps again only this time they were moving much more quickly. Prepared to reiterate the fact that I did not possess a cigarette, I turned to see him running at full speed with his eyes locked on me. I can only describe the next few moments as the strangest of my life – and, yes, everything happened in slow motion. Continue reading Yep, That Really Happened!→
Oh man have I been guilty of this one in the past, but I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf.
Several studies have attempted to compare the dangers of texting while driving with driving under the influence. One such study was conducted by Car and Driver magazine in June 2009. The study used two drivers in real cars and messured reaction-times to the onset of a light on the windshield. The study compared the reaction times and distances of the subjects while reading a text message, replying to the text message, and impaired with alcohol. The study showed that at 35 mph, reading a text message decreased the reaction time the most, 0.12 seconds for the first driver and 0.87 seconds for the second. Impaired driving at the same speed resulted in an increase of 0.01 and 0.07 seconds respectively. In terms of stopping distances for a driver going 70 mph, these times were estimated to mean:
I would never get behind the wheel of a car while intoxicated, and yet, every time I read or send a text message or email while driving, I’m actually a lot more dangerous behind the wheel than if I was legally drunk. This paradox just doesn’t fly with me anymore. I’ve got to stop. Continue reading N.U.T. #2 – I don’t text or email while driving.→
Now that lambing is wrapping up, Sue and I are able to get away from the farm for more than just critical errands or to go to work. A couple of Sundays ago, we stole away to the Rock Cafe in Stroud for a leisurely Sunday breakfast. Our friends Lisa and Linda from Living Kitchen Farm in Depew met us there, and we proceeded to pig out. Reviewing the Rock seems a little unfair since it is one of my favorite places, dive or otherwise, in this part of the state. However, I want y’all to know what a great place it is so you can visit yourself.
The Rock Cafe is right on Route 66
The Rock Cafe has been a Route 66 landmark since it opened in 1939. The current owner, Dawn Welch, got it listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2002 after four years of hard paperwork. In 2008, it was badly burned in a fire, but reopened almost a year to the day later, completely restored. It’s been featured in television shows and in the movie Cars. Before the Turner Turnpike opened, it was a Greyhound bus stop. Today, it’s open seven days a week, serving up breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Without a doubt, breakfast is my favorite. The fare is not just standard Okie-diner-ham-and-eggs.
Beignets, Rock Cafe style. YUM!
No trip to the Rock Cafe for breakfast would be complete without trying the beignets. They aren’t exactly standard New Orleans style–more like biscuits meet Bourbon Street–but they are scrumptious. We had an order with our coffee while we waited on the rest of our breakfast to arrive. As luck would have it, each of us ordered something different from the menu. Sue was in a mood for crepes, Linda got the pancakes, Lisa had french toast and an omelet (she has a hollow leg, I swear), and I had the burrito.
Look at all this food! Yeah, we licked the plates clean, I promise.
Our food arrived so quickly, there were still beignets left in the basket. All of it was hot and fresh. After looking at Lisa’s french toast, I wish I had tried it, but I really liked the burrito. It was grilled, making the tortilla wrap crispy and creating a contrast between the crispy outside and the warm, mushy ham-and-cheese center. Sue raved about her crepes, Linda’s pancake stack covered her plate, and by the time we were done, her plate was clean along with the rest of the ones at the table! All of us agreed it was one of the best meals we’d had for a Sunday breakfast in quite a while. Continue reading “Red Dirt Dives” Reviews: Rock Cafe, Stroud→
We have a couple of favorite eateries. It has little to do with the food; it has everything to do with the people who eat there. The restaurants are filled with our neighbors from miles around who fill us in on new business, fun events and serious news that affects us as community members. So we’re driving around in the rain at 8:15AM on a Saturday morning. We’ve got some time to kill before my hair appointment, so we decide to try a different diner for breakfast.
This sign does not stand for open-minded.
Huge mistake.
We walked in and placed our order at a counter then found an empty booth. Usually, I enjoy listening to the locals chat about what’s going on around town. Today was different.
Complaints. Complaints. Complaints. NOTHING but complaints.
*One husband and wife sat at two completely separate tables. He pointed at a couple entering the restaurant, and she complained that she didn’t want to talk to them, so she went and sat in the car.
*The gentleman in the back complained about having to go to work…about twenty different times.
*The newest patrons, the couple the one lady didn’t want to talk to, announced that someone in the next town over had died. The man across from us was sure it had to be an overdose. “You know how those people are,” he said.
*There are too many unwanted dogs getting hit by cars. “They need to be put down.”
It was at this point that I looked up at my husband and said, “We have GOT to get out of here.” The complaints continued.
* Gas prices. Bad gas. “My truck is ruined because of watered-down gas.”
Finally, the biggest nay-sayer got a phone call and announced that he had to leave.
There are certain types of floor polish that smell just like my old elementary school in Apache, Oklahoma. On rare occasions I will walk into a building to the perfect combinations of soaps, cleaners and mop bucket — boom! Ahhhhh, there it is—the long hallway that takes me down to Mrs. Alexander’s fourth grade classroom. A thousand images flood my mind when I get a certain whiff of my youth.
I’m surprised we could smell anything at all back in the sixties. Everybody smoked. Part of my job as the barber shop shoe shine boy was emptying ash trays. Let’s just say, I emptied them a lot. These days I nearly gag whenever anyone within a quarter-mile lights up a cigarette.
I can smell my memories. I think that’s why I’m always looking for a barber shop that smells right. If I walked into something like Spring-Fresh-Potpourri I would turn around and leave. Surely there’s a man law about this: There shall be no potpourri in a barber shop. So what makes a barber shop smell right? Jeris Hair Tonic, Butch Wax and clipper oil—these contribute basic components to real barber shop smell.
On Fridays, several customers would make their way in from the Sale Barn where cattle had been auctioned. The Angus, Herefords and multi-various bulls, cows and calves were fond of leaving green souvenirs which the men’s boots would inevitably pick up. The barber shop took on even more character when the farmers and ranchers came to town. Smells good don’t it?
Don’t ask me why I love some of the aromas of my youth so much. My best answer will be nostalgia, sentimentality, or perhaps a coping mechanism which works to suppress my neurosis. Saddle soap, leather dye and cowboys boots dipped in a cow lot—man if somebody would bottle that I’d wear it as cologne! Continue reading Barbershop Theology, Pt. 4: “The Nose Knows”→
The coaching carousel is at full tilt this time of year. The sports world is a vicious cycle of hirings and firings. Now, the college basketball carousel is spinning fastest, but soon the NBA will pick up speed, followed by the NHL, college football, the NFL, and round and round we go.
At this very moment there are high profile basketball vacancies at Oklahoma, Missouri, Tennessee, Georgia Tech, and Utah just to name a few. Athletic Directors are faced with the delicate task of finding not just a good coach, but a coach who is the right fit within the program and within the university. Choosing a coach wisely means wins, money, fan support, national prestige, and more TV time. Making a poor choice means losses, fans in retreat, revenues in the red, and the possibility of setting the program back for years to come. Not to mention how bad it makes the Athletic Director look when the guy he hired turns out to be a bust.
The process of finding the right man for the job is at best, an inexact science. There is no secret formula, no perfect path to follow when on the hunt for someone who is going to become not only a head coach, but a very well compensated representative of your university. So many factors can go into a coaching search, but here are the very basics when narrowing down that long list of possibilities.
Even with Pearl gone, Tennessee may continue to suffer the consequences of his actions. (courtesy marioncountymessenger.com)
Some might say winning is the most important thing and even trumps character. However, the “win at all costs” mentality can be great for a while, but in the long run it can have devastating effects on a program. Schools can overcome a couple of down years, but it takes much longer to overcome the public relations disaster brought on by a coach involved in a legal, sexual, or recruiting scandal. Even if a coach avoids the police, the courtroom, and manages to keep himself out of incriminating Facebook photos, he can still take down a program by violating NCAA rules. Just ask Indiana. The once prolific Hoosiers aren’t competitive thanks to Kelvin Sampson’s NCAA transgressions. Even though Tennessee fired Bruce Pearl, the Vols could be facing serious consequences thanks to Pearl’s lies and poor judgment. Look at all the instances in the past where the coach had to deal with adversity. How did he handle players who violated team policy? Did he stick to his principles or did he lower his own standards in the name of winning? Listen Athletic Directors of America, save yourself the embarrassment later by doing your research now. Look at a coach’s past, examine his family life, check and triple check references, and make sure you have all the details on any and all run-ins with the NCAA. Know what kind of man you’re getting from the very beginning and you limit the chances of an unpleasant surprise down the road.
Wow! Thursday sure came fast this week. It could be because I have been busy the last 8 days helping my husband install some antique pine flooring, helping strip the sealer off the kitchen floor and resealing/sealing it. Why is it that what you think will be a small job turns into way more than you have time for? All that aside, there is nothing more rewarding than being involved in a project that you are proud of when it is completed.
Melt butter in saucepan, add soups and water. Heat. Put rice in oblong cake or casserole dish. Pour 1/2 soup mixture on top of rice. Put chicken on top of soup and rice. Pour remainder of soup mixture on top. Bake at 225 for 2 hours and serve.
“Curt can guess people’s high school nicknames within ten minutes of meeting them. Curt just got back from Europe, where he spent time training a baby polar bear named Knute. Curt has a great sense of direction and can sometimes be spotted walking magnetic North. Curt believes that it is wrong for you to spank your children, but is willing to do it himself. Upon graduation from OU, Curt was nominated to the Supreme Court, but was unable to make it to the Senate hearings because he couldn’t find any shoes that day. Curt is a friend of Anna and can be found counting ants at the park most days.” ~ Red Dirt Improve Website, Description of Troupe Member, Curt Coy
The weather is trending slightly-weirdly and oh-so-uncertainly warmer in Red Dirt country and since you may be venturing out of your house, we wanted to remind you that the Red Dirt Improv is a viable, if not funky, option. Joey’s first essay for the RDC was written after she attended her first improv show. We’re re-posting it this morning in order to give you a little sumthin’-sumthin’ (yes, I was channeling Whitney Houston when I wrote that) for options when selecting where to spend your Oklahoma entertainment dollars.
Ciao ~ Red Dirt Kelly (I don’t know WHAT I was channeling when I wrote “ciao.” I never say that word. Never ever.)
***
Have you ever laughed so much in one night that your cheeks ache? I went to an improv show Saturday night and my face still hurts a little.
Red Dirt Improv is a local troupe of improv performers and they hosted a festival at Lyric at the Plaza last weekend. Troupes from surrounding areas joined in to compound the weekend funny factor.
Even though I’ve been to tons of open mic nights and stand-up comedy shows, I was a little apprehensive. People were going to be on stage doing… well, they didn’t know what they were going to do.
This one was at the top of the list of examples I provided in my intro to this post and I have chosen to put it first on my list because of how important I think it is.
Obviously being faithful to my wife means not getting involved romantically with any other woman, but it means so much more than that. It means being faithful to her with my heart and mind as well as my body. It means not staring at other women. It means not flirting with other women. It means not thinking about other women. It means not putting myself into situations where there might even be an appearance of unfaithfulness. It means not looking at pornography. It means not betraying her confidence to other people. It means always taking her side when other people are involved. It means always sticking up for her and watching out for her best interests. And it means doing all of these things and so much more NO MATTER WHAT.
In many ways, this N.U.T. doesn’t have anything to do with my wife at all. Sure it affects her, but my being faithful to my wife is really about me. It’s about who I am as a man and the content of my character. It’s about me placing a high premium on the value of fidelity.
I’m confident that a lot (not all, but a lot) of the problems in our world today could be greatly minimized (if not eradicated entirely) if men would simply honor their commitments to be faithful to their wives. Think of how many divorces, broken homes, and kids growing up without a dad could be prevented if men everywhere made this one of their non-negotiable, unalterable terms.
***
To read more about N.U.T.s from Michael, please visit:
Yep, there it is in all its glory. My “Man-Bun” in need of a decent descriptor.
There really aren’t too many of us these days: long-haired freaky looking guys. Especially those of us who aren’t that freaky. We grow up, get respectable jobs or just loose our follicles. Society eventually molds us to its will.
Or does it?
A funny thing happened on my way to respectability. I found out I just wasn’t that corporate. And I decided that in honor of my brothers who no longer can, if I can grow my hair, I should.
So here I am once again in familiar territory; the end of the dreaded in-between stage where you can’t pull all your hair into a ponytail so most of the time it looks like a mop in a light socket. “Push through,” I tell myself. “Wear a hat.” Oh yes, that doesn’t work either; my hair makes it slide up my head. “Push through.”
Last week I was in the dark digging around in my t-shirt drawer, and my hand landed on a shirt that was softer than the rest. I pulled it out and flipped on the light. It was my RDC T! I realized that I had only worn it a handful of times, so I made the commitment to wear it every day of my spring break. What a week it’s been!
These little egg shakers are fun to play! I'm listening to all of Bryan's CD's so I can be ready to perform next time.
Day One: Saturday night my husband, Greg, and I attended one of Bryan’s (He’s Home) shows at his Farmhouse Studio. It’s always a good time, but this night I discovered egg shakers, and Bryan called me up to the stage to play. Later I advanced to the tambourine. Was it the t-shirt that gave me rhythm? I don’t know for sure, but there is audio of me singing. The audio will remain locked in a vault, but I am happy to share this picture with my fans. I mean “fan.” (me)
Day Two: It’s hard being a rock star. I woke up with a sore throat and a sore leg (from the tambourine), but a quick glance at the weather report (rain tomorrow) was the signal I needed to get me up and moving. Armed with a shovel and compost material from my kitchen, I headed to the compost pile to do some turning. It was cloudy, but the temperature was perfect for my RDC T. I wondered how I was going to do everything I wanted to do today. Then I got a call. A parent of one of my 7th grade students called to see if they could come out to see the goats. The dad chatted with Greg as he worked on the barn, and the mom and three boys were eager to brush and pamper the horses. The boys left covered in dirt from corn stalk wars and if I was covered in dirt, you’d never know it. My RDC T is brown. Perfect.
Three items that are always needed on the ranch: a tool, a bucket, and an RDC T.
Day Three: It was cold and rainy, but I was multi-tasking. The rain was drenching my compost pile and I was getting my car serviced. I had chocolate meringue pie for dinner. It melted in my mouth. How did Mrs. Wagner know that my mind and body deserved that melt-in-your-mouth pie and coffee? My RDC T was hidden under a sweater. She must have had x-ray eyes.
Day Four: Three girls (okay, four if you count my dog, Mae) and two sets of mattresses made for a nice day and lunch at the local diner. My RDC T and I were happy to give away a queen mattress to our friend Katherine. She and her mom brought their full size mattress to exchange and bought us lunch. I saw even more friends later! I didn’t let the cold tempt me from not wearing my RDC T. It looks great with an orange long-sleeved shirt underneath! Continue reading Meanwhile, Back at The Ranch: My RDC T & Me→
1965 with my little brother and sister . . . age 9, a workin' man.
My first job was a great gig. I learned a lot about responsibility, customer service, work ethic and satisfaction in a job well done. I was a shoeshine boy.
In 1965 my dad gave me a corner of his barbershop and spotted me the money to buy Kiwi Shoe Polish, saddle soap and a few brushes. The pool hall owner, George, gave me a couple of strips of pool table fabric. I used the green felt to finish each shoe shine with a brisk buff.
The cost for a shine was 2 bits (that’s a quarter). Often times I would get a ten cent tip. I could finish a long Saturday with a pocket full of change, black fingers and the swagger of a workin’ man. (Oh the stories I can tell you about my years in the barber shop. Lord willing, I shall do so in posts to come.)
Of course you are wondering, “Hmmm, and just how do I get a cool job like that?”
The American economy may be slowly recovering, but I promise you there is zero growth taking place right now. Congress might as well go ahead and declare national holidays for the first two days of the NCAA basketball tournament. Don’t act like you actually got anything accomplished at work yesterday. Unless you were waiting tables or bartending, I’m willing to bet you wasted hours of company time glued to a TV while constantly checking and re-checking your pathetic bracket. America’s businesses are coming to a screeching halt and rightly so. The NCAA tournament is the single most captivating sports event we have in this great country.
I love the NFL playoffs, but that’s only a couple games per day at the most. The first and second rounds of March Madness feature four glorious days of 48 games. I can’t even describe how amazing it is to know that I can roll out of bed, flip on some hoops and remain nearly motionless until the sun goes down. I can then repeat that beautiful process for three more days. I’m convinced this is why pizza, beer, and sports bars were invented. I can’t wait for the NHL playoffs, but only a game seven scenario can match the level of drama in the NCAA tournament. A single elimination format where the little guy always has a shot at realizing a dream, upsets reign, and one bad game can send you packing? Brilliance. The Masters is four straight days of unbeatable scenery and shot-making, but there’s no bracket for a golf tournament, no office pool, no opportunity to talk trash to your co-workers. The rest of the globe can have its World Cup; I’ll take these four days of buzzer beaters and last second heroics over 90 minutes of no action, no goals, and fake injuries. And the Olympics? Come on, don’t tell me you really get excited to break down the matchups in ice dancing or call in sick so you can watch equestrian.
I’d love to lose 10 pounds. I’ve actually been saying this for a couple of years now. Everyday, I wake up, get dressed and depending on what the scale says and how my clothes fit, I usually think, “I’d love to lose 10 pounds.” Some days it’s 15. I adore cooking, enjoy eating even more and don’t really like to exercise. That’s pretty much the trifecta of doom when it comes to a productive weight loss strategy. Using the most accurate tdee calculator could help me better understand my daily calorie needs, making it easier to develop a realistic weight loss plan.
In my mission to wear a bikini in public again, I have armed myself with some pretty amazing tools to help me take off these stubborn last few pounds. We bought a used elliptical machine and placed it in our bedroom. I have at least 10 DVDs of numerous workouts ranging from kickboxing to stress relieving yoga. I bought a daily deal for 10 Zumba classes. For Christmas, I asked for “Just Dance 2” on the Wii so I can shake my groove thang while burning calories. I even got Zumba for PS3 so I can pretend that my groove thang is Latin when I want to switch it up.
Strangely, even after arming myself with all of these amazing weight loss tools, I have not lost more than a pound or two. The ugly truth is this: Until last week, the elliptical was a great place for my husband to hang his laundry. The workout DVDs are gathering dust under the DVDs of Baby Einstein that see a lot more action these days. I went to two Zumba classes with my sweet friend and neighbor Berween but our schedules got busy and we have not yet been back. I have done “Just Dance 2” a few times but the Zumba PS3 game is still in the package. Continue reading Finding Your “Want To”→
As I was flipping through the Stockyards City cookbook, looking for a healthier option for a desert, the baked apple recipe caught my eye. What an easy, healthy option for getting your friends and family to enjoy fruit!
Baked Apples
By Annette Trammell
4 med. apples
1/2 c raisins
2 T brown sugar
1/2 T cinnamon
1/4 T nutmeg
1/3 C apple juice
Core apples and peel a strip from the top. Place in small baking dish. Mix sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and raisins together. Fill each apple with the raisin mixture. Pour apple juice all over. Bake at 350 for 40 min or until apples are tender. Serve warm. Can serve with drizzled cream or cool whip.
(I doubled the recipe and added extra brown sugar and apple juice. I also added Marzettis cream cheese fruit dip on top.) For my tantelizing photo gallery covering this recipe, click the “read more” link below…
I most definitely did not need THAT. However, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the state of my physique. I looked in the mirror and saw a mother of two who was destined to spend her life on an ongoing quest to get back into the beautiful, pre-baby clothes that longingly called my name every time I chose my outfit from the two-sizes-bigger section of my closet. I’ve never been technically overweight, but the bottom line for me was that I wasn’t where I used to be and felt most comfortable. Yes, I was younger then. No, I hadn’t birthed two children then. None of those facts made me feel any better, however. If you want to lose weight, you can find out the best weight loss supplements that really work here.
I was frustrated…frustrated that I was doing what I’ve always done (eating what I thought was relatively healthy meals and going to the gym) and that simply wasn’t cutting it. I told myself that I just needed to prioritize going to the gym more frequently, jog faster and work out for longer periods of time. I felt like I was living out that old adage about doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
A lot of the blogs I read have written recently about the need for men to have a firm grasp on their non-negotiable, unalterable terms or as Wayne Levine (the man who coined the term) calls them, our N.U.T.s.
To quote Levine:
To be the man, father, husband or leader you want to be, you must develop and maintain a firm grasp of your N.U.T.s
N.U.T.s – non-negotiable, unalterable terms—are the things that define you as a man. They’re what a man is committed to. And when these N.U.T.s are compromised, men become angry, unhappy, frustrated, depressed. They would rather blame others than take responsibility for their own actions. They’ll play the victim as they take out their negative feelings on those they love. They’re also the guys who will try to drown their sorrows in alcohol, drugs, porn, and a slew of other equally destructive behaviors.
I’ve borrowed a list of a few examples of N.U.T.s from Levine’s website and have listed them below:
* I am faithful to my wife.
* Compassion for my family trumps my need to be right.
* I am a risk taker.
* I do what I believe is in the best interest of my children, even if they disagree.
* I do not ask for permission.
* I do not indulge my addictions.
* I take my problems to men, not to women.
* I do whatever it takes to keep my family in our home.
* I honor my daily spiritual practice.
* I do not sell out who I am to please others.
Although I suspect I have an unspoken list of N.U.T.s, I don’t think I’ve ever actually voiced many of them to myself or anyone else. In the coming weeks, I’m going to spend some time thinking about my non-negotiable unalterable terms and will be posting them here on the RDC as a permanent reminder to myself of those things that I will hold to no matter what. Some of mine will be fairly similar to the ones above and some will be quite different. Either way, I’m looking forward to the process of considering, defining, and listing my own N.U.T.s.
What are your N.U.T.s?
Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.
