Weird Stuff

11/09/2025

If you see small birds sitting close together on your window or balcony during winter, please do not chase them away. They are not trying to trouble anyone. They are cold, unsure and only looking for a safe spot to rest.
Yes, they might leave a little mess, but letting them stay could help them survive.
If you can, place a small bowl of water and a few crumbs or seeds outside. In this kind of cold, finding food or water is very hard for them.
Let us offer a bit of shelter. Let us give them a chance to make it through the season.

11/08/2025

To those who look at today’s grandmothers and see only gray hair and gentle smiles — let us reintroduce ourselves.
We were the wild souls of the ’60s and ’70s.
We wore skirts so short they made headlines, boots that climbed past our knees, and jeans so tight they held every dream in place.
We didn’t just witness change — we ignited it.
Our music was rebellion with a beat.
The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix — they weren’t just our soundtrack; they were our voice.
We sang until our throats ached, played records until the grooves wore thin, and let the rhythm set us free.
We tore through cities on roaring motorcycles, raced down highways in Mini Coopers with the windows rolled down and freedom riding shotgun.
We sipped gin and tonics in smoky bars, danced barefoot in muddy fields under skies alive with rain and rock ’n’ roll.
We didn’t have Wi-Fi, filters, or phones glued to our hands.
Our memories weren’t uploaded — they were lived.
With tangled hair, dirty feet, and hearts on fire, we built a world that pushed back, stood tall, and refused to be silenced.
So when you see us now — silver-haired, soft-spoken, maybe moving a little slower — remember this:
We were fierce long before hashtags.
We didn’t just dream of change.
We became it.
Rock on, young ones.
We already did.

11/07/2025

11/07/2025

I built a small bed under the basement stairs for my daughter.
For three weeks, she has slept there and nowhere else.
Not in her room upstairs.
Not in her usual bed.
Only in that quiet little corner everyone used to ignore.
My daughter is thirteen, and the world feels too loud for her.
Too much noise.
Too much light.
Too many small things that crowd her mind.
Her room faces the street. Every night she complained about headlights, dogs, and the usual sounds of life long after she wanted rest. At first I brushed it off, thinking she was exaggerating. Her therapist later explained that some kids feel calmer in smaller and quieter places.
One morning, while she was still asleep, I measured the area under the stairs. That dark triangle of space had always seemed useless, but a mattress could fit if I planned it well.
I watched carpentry videos, bought reclaimed wood from someone who was clearing out an old terrace, and spent two weekends building the frame. I added drawers under the bed and a little shelf for her books. I painted simple geometric shapes on the doors because plain gray felt too heavy. The yellow door to the storage room stayed the same, but somehow it suits the space now.
She tried it on the first night.
And she never returned to her old room.
Each evening she brings down her pillow, reads with a small book light, and says it is the only spot in the house where her thoughts settle. My husband finds it unusual that a teenager prefers the basement, but her grades have gone up and she no longer ends her days in tears. That alone tells me enough.
Yesterday I bought some warm lights that she can adjust. I will set them up this weekend so she will not need the harsh ceiling bulb anymore. I might add star stickers to the ceiling too, just to make it feel even more like a place that belongs to her.
Her friends say it looks amazing.
My sister says I am encouraging her to hide from people.
I do not know what the perfect answer is.
I just know my daughter finally sleeps through the night.

11/07/2025

My daughter is twelve. She does not have many friends, and last year the bullying at school became so heavy that she spent her lunch breaks hiding in the bathroom. Because of that, she stayed close to me. While I worked on orders for my little shop on Tedooo, she sat nearby, quiet and thoughtful, always keeping her hands busy.

For weeks she spent time in her room with my yarn. I assumed she was just trying to distract herself. But last night she walked out wearing a scarf she made on her own. She stood a bit taller as she told me, almost whispering, that she hopes to have her own shop one day. A place for kids like her, kids who create things even when the world barely notices them.

I had to turn away so she would not see me cry.

This child, who eats alone at school and has not been invited to a birthday party in two years, found her confidence through color and yarn. She wakes up at 6 AM practicing new stitches for what she calls “future customers.” She has taken her lonely moments and shaped them into skill and a quiet dream she holds close.

And that scarf she made is not just impressive for a twelve-year-old. It is truly lovely. The tension is steady. The colors blend with care. The fringe is tidy. More than anything, it shows that while others tried to push her aside, she was finding her own direction.

If you are reading this, a kind comment would mean so much. She looks at every message on my Tedooo posts, hoping to learn and hoping to feel included. Help her see that there is room in this world for kids who move at their own pace and build their future one stitch at a time.

Sometimes strength is quiet. Sometimes it grows in the places no one pays attention to.

11/07/2025

In the summer of 1883, Martha Ward lived with her husband and baby in a small cabin on the edge of Tombstone, Arizona.
One evening, while her husband was away, she heard horses approaching — five riders. Within moments, masked men surrounded her home. Martha knew danger when she saw it.
She moved fast. Hiding her baby safely in the root cellar, she loaded her rifle and waited. She’d grown up on the frontier — she knew what it meant to stand her ground.
The men called out in friendly tones, trying to trick her. Martha said nothing. When one of them touched the door, she fired a warning shot and told them the next one wouldn’t miss.
For three long hours, she defended her cabin alone — calm, steady, unshaken. Each time the men tried to get close, she drove them back with fearless precision.
When her husband finally returned, he found the men retreating into the darkness — and Martha standing in the doorway, rifle still warm in her hands.
By morning, the danger was gone, the baby was safe, and Martha cleaned her gun as if it were just another day’s work.
Her courage became a family legend — a reminder that love can be fierce, and that sometimes, a mother becomes the hero herself.

11/07/2025

Shaquille O’Neal once shared a story about his stepdad, a tough and steady army sergeant who raised him with firm love.
During Shaq’s first NBA season, he played at Madison Square Garden against the Knicks and had a rough night. After the game, his stepdad called and asked why he played so poorly. He asked if facing Patrick Ewing and the New York crowd had made him nervous. Shaq admitted it had.
His stepdad told him to come home early the next morning at seven. When Shaq arrived, they got in the car and went to visit a family who had nowhere to live.
They met the family, and his stepdad gave them money for food. Then he looked at Shaq and said that this was what real struggle looks like. He reminded him that playing basketball for millions is not the same kind of stress as wondering where your next meal will come from. He told Shaq to get out of the car and speak to the family himself.
Shaq talked to the father, who had a wife and two young children. The man said he had lost his home and was doing small jobs like cutting grass to survive. Shaq called a friend to help him find steady work. Then he called another friend who could arrange an apartment for the family. He promised to send the money for the first payment the next day.
That family needed help, and Shaq realized what true struggle really meant.
From that moment on, he never felt stressed during a basketball game again, because he finally understood the difference between a bad night on the court and a real fight to survive.

11/06/2025

Spend time with your parents.

11/06/2025

A few weeks before Christmas, my 89-year-old mum lost her much-loved old dog. The house felt empty, and she was heartbroken. She told herself she wouldn’t get another one because her age and disability made her worry it wouldn’t be fair if she couldn’t care for a pet long term.
But life stepped in anyway. A kind dog rescuer who had helped her before heard what happened. Not long after, a gentle 12-year-old dog came into the shelter after its elderly owner passed away. The rescuer immediately thought of Mum and gave her a call.
Mum was lonely and missed the comfort of a pet, so she agreed to meet him. The moment they were in the same room, it felt like they belonged together. Now they’re side by side every day. They share quiet cuddles, slow walks, and simple joys that fill the house again.
Both of them found a fresh start. Mum has a loyal companion once more, and the little dog has a home full of warmth and steady love.
Sometimes, two souls cross paths at exactly the right moment. 🫡❤️🐶

11/06/2025

He was eighty-eight, a veteran, and on the edge of losing the only home he had left. He sat in his wheelchair at the back of the courtroom, quiet and alone. His wife had passed, he had no children, and the house he’d lived in for decades was falling apart around him. The porch was unsafe, the paint was worn through, and the roof leaked every time it rained. He didn’t have the strength or the money to fix any of it.
When his case was called, Arthur rolled forward. His hands shook as the city attorney listed the violations and the heavy fines he owed. Then came the line that crushed him — the request to condemn the property if he couldn’t pay.
The judge, a man known for sticking closely to rules, began reading through the paperwork. “Mr. Harris, the city is asking for…” He stopped mid-sentence.
Arthur had lowered his head and covered his face, and his shoulders trembled as he tried to hold in his sobs. The room fell silent.
The judge looked at him for a long moment. His stern expression shifted, and he closed the file. “We will take a short recess,” he said, striking the gavel quickly.
When he returned, the room hummed with whispers. No one knew what to expect.
The judge looked straight at Arthur. “Mr. Harris,” he said, his voice gentler than before, “during the break, I spoke with the local VFW and with the county’s Veterans’ support office. Your fines are dismissed in full.”
Arthur lifted his head, stunned.
“And,” the judge continued, “a contractors’ group in our county has already agreed to handle every repair, free of charge. Work will begin next week.”
Arthur covered his face again, but this time the tears came from relief. After carrying so much fear for so long, the weight finally cracked open.
Then the judge did something rare. He stepped down from the bench and walked straight to Arthur’s wheelchair. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around the old veteran and held him close.
Arthur leaned into him and whispered, barely able to speak, “I didn’t think anyone cared anymore.”
The judge’s reply was quiet but firm. “We do. I do. You served this country. No one forgets that.”
And in that moment, in a simple courtroom, one man who had spent a lifetime feeling overlooked finally felt seen.

11/06/2025

My landlord Alan called me earlier and told me not to worry about rent this month. He said we could figure it out later and I was already grateful. Then he asked if we had enough food. I told him we still had a few packs of meat but needed to shop soon. He just said to be careful and ended the call.

A little while later, I got a message from him saying to check my front porch. When I opened the door, I saw bags of groceries sitting there waiting for us. I stood there holding back tears because I honestly didn’t know how to react. For him to do something like this for my family means more than I can explain.

My heart feels so full right now. God bless you, Alan.

11/06/2025

To everyone upset about the dog at Texas Roadhouse who was given a steak on Veterans Day, let me say this. I would gladly sit beside that dog instead of spending a meal next to loud, unruly kids.
I’m sure that dog is cleaner and far more peaceful. He is not running around the restaurant like he and his parents grew up without manners.

Petmatchmaker Rescue South stands with Texas Roadhouse, with our veterans, and with all Military Working Dogs. ❤️❤️❤️