Aging on Marshmallow Ranch

They Say it's My Birthday!

Fri, 13 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

Lessons in Imperfection

Mon, 09 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

I’m a perfectionist to the point that I sometimes don’t attempt something if I think it’ll be a flop. I don’t like failure or feeling “less than.” It stems from a lifetime of trying to earn my dad’s love and approval. I couldn’t do much right in his eyes, and I felt rejected. Therefore, most of my life was spent trying to gain my father’s acceptance by being a perfectionist and overachiever in relationships. You know the type…the wife who makes excuses like “He’s just overworked.” Or, “He didn’t really mean it.” All while trying to bend myself like a pretzel to become who I thought I needed to be to receive love.

I discussed this with a psychiatrist back in the ‘90s. He listened carefully then, sitting back in his chair, he asked, “What does Ginny want?” I was confused by the question because I really had no idea WHO Ginny was, let alone what I wanted. Towards the end of my therapy, he looked at me pensively.

“You know…no matter how many relationships you have or how perfect you try to be or how twisted you bend to be what someone else thinks you should be, you’re never going to get your dad’s love.”

Wow. That stung.

He was right, of course. Until I learned how to just be myself, to truly accept who I am, and then be that person…I would just continue to go through men like shoes. This was when my second marriage was failing. I’d love to say I took that advice to heart in my next marriage, but I didn’t make much progress on that before I married Mr. Virgo. He was SO handsome and I was still stinging after the divorce, my self-esteem was in the toilet. I wasn’t genuinely present in that marriage either, although it was a far sight better than the first two. I felt like I was making progress with my “daddy issues” when he died unexpectedly just before our sixth wedding anniversary.

In the years following that loss, I threw myself into a strong period of personal growth. It wasn’t till I decided I was perfectly imperfect just the way I am that I let go of all that garbage I’d been dragging behind me all those years. Was it aging? Probably. Was it the years of therapy? It could be because I had a LOT of it. Was it because I was just so darned tired of trying to juggle the facade that I decided being alone wouldn’t kill me? Oh, most assuredly. However, the single most important difference was finding Jesus and putting Him front and center.

Then, I ran into Mr. FixIt. My dear friend from high school. We were besties…never sweethearts. He was the guy who listened to all the girls’ boyfriend problems. He’s a good guy. He’s patient to the nth degree. He’s fun and funny and loves me completely. And the feelings are very, very mutual. I don’t have to be perfect. I am sure HE has imperfections; I just choose not to focus on them. He does the same with me. It’s the first time in my life that I haven’t had to fit into someone else’s expectations, and it’s a refreshing way to live.

There are lessons in imperfection which allow us to break free of the bonds that have held us prisoner…sometimes for decades. I wish I could have had this enlightenment in my 30’s and 40’s but that wasn’t God’s plan. Mr. FixIt and I would not have this kind of relationship if it had happened earlier in our lives. We needed to have some of the hard edges knocked off in order to be the people God wanted us to be. And only then did He lead us toward each other.

💜

“Don’t team up with those who are unbelievers. How can righteousness be a partner with wickedness? How can light live with darkness?” 2 Corinthians‬ ‭6‬:‭14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

***Gratitude Journal*** Today, I am grateful Mr. FixIt and I were brought together at the perfect time in our lives. I thank God everyday for him.

Repercussions of the Flood

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

Lee Creek is beyond those trees. It’s usually not much more than a trickle.

When we saw the muddy waters of Lee Creek up in our fields on Friday, we knew it wasn’t just a matter of waiting for the waters to recede and get on with business as usual. When we got water in the basement, there was only one explanation for it. The end of the storm drain down at the creek was underwater. And that meant there was digging in our immediate future.

The front creek was almost at the top of the rock berm.

After a lazy morning, we went out to inspect the mess. Mr. FixIt said it was the worst he’s ever seen. When you live out in the country, you don’t have city sewer…you have septic tanks. And you’re runoff water doesn’t go in there. The house is situated on the opposite side of the creek where the storm drainage flows. Our property is pretty flat, so there isn’t much of a grade to draw that water down. Over the years, creeks move. They deposit dirt, rocks, and trees…here one time, there another.

After the Storm

At one point, the drain was about four feet above the level of the creek bed. Now it’s all but even with it, and the dirt covers the ditch when the creek rises. We were out there with a pickax, a shovel, and a hoe for a couple of hours. We’re of an age that hard labor is getting harder to do for any length of time, so we’ll get back out there today and work on it some more. Ahhhh…the joys of retirement, eh?

The reward for a hard day’s work.

In the meantime, the grain mill hasn’t arrived, and we were out of bread. I still have a lot of store-bought flour, so I mixed up a triple batch of Japanese Milk Bread. Now we have two beautiful loaves of bread and a pan of cinnamon rolls. That should last us for a few days.

June will keep us busy, that’s for sure!

🤍

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. 1 Corinthians 15:58 ESV

***Gratitude Journal***   Today, I am grateful I am here to serve my husband as his helpmate. Philippians 2:4 says: Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. We are blessed to have each other to lean on and support.

Grandma's Hands

Thu, 29 May 2025 04:30:00 -0600

I did the math…my grandma was only forty-eight years old when I was born. I gave her the first great-grandchild when she was just sixty-nine. She was always old to me because…grandmas are old. Or at least they were when I was growing up. Nowadays, grandmas write blogs and pull thirty-foot campers across the country by themselves. Not my grandma. She wore short-sleeved cotton housedresses with a belt and a hanky in the pocket. She made “jelly bread” if you were feeling sad. She swatted your butt if you tried to bounce chicken eggs on the back porch like ping pong balls. Don’t ask me how I know.

Grandma never had anything fancy. She loved her rickety old house and always said it was the Taj Mahal compared to the way she was brought up. Her mama died when she was ten years old, and she basically raised her siblings. She worked hard and loved hard and wouldn’t know what a vacation was. She went past the Mississippi River only twice in her life. When I grew up and was married with my first child, my husband moved us to Denver. Grandma warned us to be careful because of all those rough and tumble cowboys and Indians roaming the streets out West. She didn’t know the streets were paved and there were skyscrapers there.

My latest learning quest is how to bake bread with fresh-milled wheat. As in, grinding wheat berries at my home on a grain mill specifically for home use. Whole grain flour has many more nutrients than white flour in bags at the store. I’ve been baking this month with fresh milled flour I bought at The Dutch Cupboard in Columbiana, OH, a few weeks ago. It hasn’t been too hard to switch over, if you don’t count yesterday’s fiasco. I will admit, nothing makes bread like King Arthur Flour, but my Nutrimill Classic arrives today, and I am so excited to learn this.

I slow roasted a pork butt yesterday and oh, my…it was so tender and tasty. After supper and the dishes were done, I mixed up a batch of cornmeal mush to slice and fry for breakfast this morning. I have a little sausage in the fridge, and I might just bake some biscuits and make a little sausage gravy to go with them. As I worked with my hands, it struck me how much they look like my grandma’s hands now. They should be with all I put them through every day. I’ve earned every wrinkle and strand of silver.

Between my husband’s and my family, we have four kids plus spouses, six grandchildren…most of them with spouses…and four great grandchildren. It would be the greatest honor if they look at their hands one day and think…”OMGosh! My hands look just like GiGi’s.”

I think I’ll make them some jelly bread when they come over next time. Wouldn’t that be nice?

ᓚᘏᗢ

Grandchildren are the crown of the aged,
and the glory of children is their fathers. Proverbs 17:6 ESV

***Gratitude Journal*** Today, I am grateful to look at my hands and see my mom’s and grandma’s hands in them. If I have a fraction of their goodness in me, I will be richly blessed.

Learning New Tricks

Sat, 26 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Image by Ginny McKinney with Meta AI - It’s not me, but the resemblance is uncanny!

Turns out, you CAN teach an old dog new tricks. I’ve been writing my blog for over a dozen years now over on the book of faces. I have a good sized following there, but I worry about the future of the platform. I spent three years copying about 8 years worth of back posts over to my website to give me control of my content. I didn’t want to lose all that writing. By my rough calculations, I’ve written over two million words in those twelve years. It’s time for this ol’ gal to learn new tricks and branch out!

I have a lovely niece who lives in NYC. Her job is helping people with their online presence. I’m just a simple farm gal, living on five acres in West Virginia with my husband and a farm cat named Pumpkin. But I have a lot to say and she’s helping me learn a new platform on Substack.

Yesterday was beautiful here on Marshmallow Ranch. It was a bit cooler with a little rain. My Bonus Daughter came over for a visit midday and that’s always a treat. After being gone for nine days at the beach, I’m still catching up with putting things away so I haven’t been cooking quite as much. Sometimes it’s nice to just have a ham sandwich and some chips and call it a day. We are loving the homemade bread I’ve been baking so we’re eating more sandwiches, toast, and French Toast. Ooooh, my waistline is reminding me I’d better slow down with that.

I’m meeting some of my high school girlfriends for coffee this morning. It’s always fun to see them and it’s been a while since we’ve gathered. It was a long, cold, snowy winter so it’s time to get out and about again. We are going to a birthday party for Mrs. FixIt 1.0 this afternoon. If it’s dry enough tomorrow, I’ll go out to The Farm in the afternoon to mow. It probably needs a brush hog by now!

I hope you all have fun plans for the weekend!

🩵🌷🩵

“Intelligent people are always ready to learn. Their ears are open for knowledge.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭18‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

*Gratitude Journal*** Today I am grateful that God brings me good teachers and I can learn new things.

So Much To Do…

Tue, 15 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

So little time! We had a slow morning and probably shouldn’t have. We had steak and eggs for breakfast…yummmm! Then Mr. FixIt fiddled around with the fishing gear. By the time we got to the bridge to fish, the wind had picked up and it was fairly miserable. We didn’t even get a nibble and after two hours, we quit. We used Mr. FixIt’s new toy. I bought him this little solar stove for cooking hotdogs out on the bridge or on the beach. You can only make two at a time, but it was so cool. They cooked up great in only fifteen minutes or so. If you want more, it’s no problem to make.

We came back to the camper for another little nap. SO decadent. We drove up to Jeanette’s Pier to see how the fishing was. We may go back up there today to try our luck.

We went to Wendy’s for a quick dinner then down to the sound side waterfront to watch the sunset. We were walking toward the observation tower when a kite surfer was walking back to take off his gear. I stopped to snap a picture and three seconds later, I was flat on the ground. I thought there was a curb in front of me so I raised my foot up to step onto it…only to find there wasn’t one. My foot came down hard and my left foot wasn’t ready to move yet so down I went. Mr. FixIt came running to help me and felt so bad he wasn’t there to catch me. Truth be told, the way I went down, I would surely have taken him down with me. Nothing much hurt other than my pride. I’ll be sore today, I’m sure but no harm done.

The sunset WAS beautiful. There was a lady there taking lots of pictures. Her son and eleven year old grandson are those two you see windsurfing in the pictures. By the time the sun went down, we were ready to head back to the camper and call it a day. Sunday night was the full moon but last night’s was bound to be gorgeous coming up over the ocean. As I’m writing this, I’m considering going back out to see it, but I don’t know. I’m pretty windburned after being out in it all day.

It’s so nice to be in a different place for awhile. It was really hot at home yesterday and they had big storms so I was just as glad to miss that. I was talking to Mr. FixIt last night. I can understand why family vacations aren’t always a vacation for Mom. She has to do all the things she does at home but in a much smaller space with amped up kids who have mosquito bites and bee stings and sunburns. And usually a husband who sits in the lawn chair reading the paper and poking the fire with a big stick. In between going around and talking to every guy in the campground about camping and fishing and who got the best gas mileage or some such thing. That isn’t much fun for Mom…but she knows she’s making memories for her family and that’s the important thing.

We didn’t really have family vacations when I was growing up save for a week visiting cousins. When Daughter #1 was little, she had to go spend a lot of the summer with her father in Kentucky and Hubby #2 was in medical school, internship & residency, and starting up a new practice. She was sixteen by the time her little sister was born then off to college before we knew it. Now, Mr. FixIt and his family went to the beach every summer and the kids have great memories of that. I regret not giving my girls that kind of experience, but our life just wasn’t arranged in a way where we could.

As we’re getting older, I told Mr. FixIt our memory dims and we don’t remember the trips we take or they get all jumbled up together. We should make a slide show with all our best pictures from our trips and watch them every summer and just stay home and save money! lol

I hope your weather has been good where you are and that you have good memories of vacations past.

🩵

“but Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often.” Luke‬ ‭2‬:‭19‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Gratitude Journal Today I am grateful I didn’t hurt myself when I fell. I need to be more careful as the risk of falling increases year after year.

Let Your Inner Beauty Shine

Thu, 27 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Image by Meta AI

Like most women “of a certain age,” I pull hands full of hair out of my brush every week. I think when you have long hair, it looks like you’re losing a lot more than than if you keep it short. But still, I was getting worried. The last time I had my hair this long, my little braid was only as big around as my thumb. My “widow’s peak” was becoming more and more pronounced. So I knew I needed to do something that would help restore my hair, if that was even possible.

I only shampoo my hair once a week and only wash the roots. Rinsing is enough to draw down over the length of my hair and doesn’t strip it of oils. I only use the conditioner on the length of my hair and never on the crown. That way it doesn’t weigh down my hair and make it greasy.

When I started Noom, I also started RYZE Mushroom Coffee and put collagen powder in it. I was amazed what it did for my hair. It was just starting to get silky smooth again when my Endocrinologist asked me to stop the supplement for six months to see if it made a difference in my kidney function. It did not, so I was allowed to return to taking my Vital Proteins Collagen Powder every day. In the time I was off of it, my hair really went downhill. It was frizzy and lifeless and it took a good three months to improve. Now my braid is nice and full, my hair is silky and shiny, and I have new “baby hairs” growing all around my crown. It looks like a halo in the sunshine.

This is a miracle product. After shampooing and before conditioning, I squeeze out as much water as I can. Then I apply this sparingly to the bottom half of my hair and squeeze it through to coat. Then rinse. You don’t have to leave it on long.

I have to switch up my hair products from time to time. The one I’ve been using for the last year or so has worked great. I’ll leave pictures of the products here for you to see and details of my routine. I’m really happy with my hair now. It’s been two years since I cut it last. I’ve let my bangs grow out, too. They’ve gotten long enough that I can almost keep them pulled back in my ponytail. I used to get my hair cut, highlighted, and styled regularly. I quit using any color about two or three years after Mr. Virgo and I got married. I let it go great and it’s been fun to see it change over the years. I don’t think I’ll ever have my mom’s beautiful white hair, but silver works for me.

This is a leave in conditioner. After I’ve conditioned with the regular conditioner, I usually blow-dry my hair but if it’s warm out, I sit in the sun and brush it till it’s dry. Then I use a very small amount of this…pea sized. I rub my hands together then run my hair through my hands in one side of my head and repeat on the other side.

(I always sleep with my hair pulled back in a long braid. I repeat this conditioning step about three times a week before I braid my hair for bed.)

I quit going to the salon altogether once Covid hit. I trimmed my own bangs as best I could and called it good. I’ve never had Covid (thank you, God) and I’ve save quite a bit of money, too. I like the look now that the bangs are way down below my chin. It feels more stylish without even trying. Because I don’t try anymore. If I had the money back that I spent in the hair and nail salon and being pampered with a massage or facial…I could have easily had a trip to Europe. That just makes me sad. But, I was working in those days. I was younger and worried more about appearances.

A lot of things have changed since Mr. FixIt and I have been together. We aren’t fancy by any measure. I mean, we clean up good, but I’ll bet I haven’t put makeup on more than a handful of times in the last decade. I just feel good in my skin now and there are no complaints from my husband. If you feel good, keep clean, drink a lot of water, get some fresh air every day and a little exercise, and a solid night’s sleep…your inner health shines through.

I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but you are BEAUTIFUL! You deserve to take care of yourself however works for you. Be confident and kind and you’ll positively sparkle in the sun!

✨☀️✨

“Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16‬:‭31‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for God showing me I am loved, no matter what I look like. I am loved by Jesus and if Jesus loves me, who am I to not love myself? I am worthy and I am enough…just the way I am!

The Rear View Mirror

Sun, 02 Feb 2025 02:30:00 -0600

Photo watermarked with iWatermark for iOS.

We spent a quiet day at home for Mr. FixIt’s birthday. He asked for Garlic Shrimp and Pasta for his special supper. It was really good, but not my favorite way to fix shrimp. I saved half the bag to make Southern Shrimp and Grits sometime in the coming weeks. I saved the sweets for Wednesday’s party so his “birthday cake” was a slice of toasted sourdough with butter and black raspberry jelly.

I was looking through my photo memories yesterday when I came across a couple of pictures of my house in Colorado. This was the home I built when I was newly divorced. It was where I welcomed Mr. Virgo into our lives. It is where I had to start a grief journey I’d never imagined taking. These pictures were take the first winter after he died. Beautiful, yes. But, that snow shovel only had one name on it and that was mine. I was blessed with wonderful neighbors who happened to get new snowblowers from Christmas that year and after this massive storm, they took turns cleaning out my driveway and sidewalks. They were blessings from God, I tell you. Because I really didn’t have the spoons at that point to take care of myself.

That was a long, dark winter…even with all that Colorado sunshine between the storms. It will soon be twelve years since Mr. Virgo died. It’s been twenty years since I met him and eighteen years since we got married. It boggles my mind. I only had him eight years…which is exactly the amount of time Mr. FixIt and I have been together.

While I do my best to be mindful and stay in the moment, you better believe the fact we’re at that eight year window crosses my mind more often that I care to admit. When I made the decision to open my heart again to the possibility of loving another person, I weighed the odds of being left alone again. Then I realized…who’s to say it would be ME being left behind. It could just as easily be my Mr. FixIt that has to go on without me. We just don’t know the number of days we get on this earth. I’m not a fatalist, but I don’t fear death. After what I’ve already gone through, age and experience has tamped down that fear and dread I carried in my anxiety bucket all my life.

Today is a new day, and I will praise God for each moment…good and bad. My good moments today will revolve around another batch of Sourdough English Muffins. And jam!

❄️🩵❄️

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭2‬:‭19‬-‭20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***
Today I am grateful for the little things like the smell of a ripe sourdough starter and the three little raccoons who pressed their noses up against the glass door last night watching me and the melting snow and the coming spring.

#mindfulness, #baking, #sourdough

The Continuing Saga of The Knocked Noggin

Fri, 31 Jan 2025 02:30:00 -0600

I slept great Wednesday night. I got up feeling “not myself” which isn’t surprising with a bonk on the head. I fixed breakfast but I was low energy then Mr. FixIt decided to take my truck in to get it inspected. I got my wallet to give him some money and I couldn’t figure out how to take money out of my wallet. THIS was one of the signs I needed to look for. So, I called my PCP’s office and her nurse was like, “You get to the ER right away!” Kinda scared me so as soon as my sweetheart got back, he took be to the hospital. And, as luck would have it, it was one of their busiest days EVER. We got there a little before 4:00 and it was after 10:15 when we got out. They did a CT and it was clear. They gave me a concussion checklist of do’s and don’t’s. We were both really hungry so we stopped at Wendy’s on the way home. We pulled into the driveway at 11:00 and I was whupped! We were in bed in less than ten minutes. I just need to take it easy for a few days…which is kinda what I’m doing anyway! lol I’ll be back tomorrow!

A Quarter of a Century

Mon, 06 Jan 2025 02:30:00 -0600

Most people have their big day of introspection on New Year’s Day. Or maybe their birthday. For me? It’s January 6th. I have been sober for 25 years today. This is a really big deal for me. I look back at the life I was leading at the time and I was really so sick. I was chronically depressed…clinically depressed. Even after years of therapy and way too many meds I was literally the walking dead.

I wasn’t being a good mother, wife, friend, sister, daughter. I was in one of those “too good to leave, too bad to stay” marriages that was killing both of us. But we just couldn’t seem to let go and get healthy. Then the overdose happened. I didn’t really want to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. I could have easily died that night. Thank God I didn’t have any alcohol on board or I would have.

I spent many, many years blaming my ex-husband for all my problems. We were both responsible for things getting as bad as they did. But, as I’ve aged…matured…ripened?…I can see the hand of God in what I went through. God gives us free will. And when we go down lanes he doesn’t approve of, He sometimes takes a step back and says, “Interesting choice, my child. I’ll be here when you come to your senses.” Eventually I have come to believe Hubby #2 gave me the greatest gift of all.

He made me take care of myself and get the help I needed. On my own. I had become obvious to him, I needed something different than what we’d been doing for the last ten years. I “went away” for a while and spent some time in a Behavioral Unit…a delicate way of saying “the loony bin.” That was the bottom of the barrel for me and it was a very long and emotional climb out.

I chatted with my ex on Saturday evening. I wanted to make sure he knew that I hadn’t wasted the gift he gave me. He told me my sobriety was his reward. I am a totally different person than I was on January 6, 2000. The biggest change came when I turned to Jesus in January of 2004 after my mom died. That’s when I was healed and made new.

If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health or with drugs or alcohol, don’t give up. Have them dial 988 for assistance. Someone there can provide resources.

I doubt seriously I’ll have twenty-five more years ahead of me as I’d be 96. But I’ll sure suit up and show up for every day that God sees fit to give me. And I’ll be grateful for it all. The good, the bad, the in-between. I thank everyone who has been there for me in the reinvention of Ginny McKinney.

To my family, my friends, and my readers…I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

“But as for me, I will look to the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me.” Micah‬ ‭7‬:‭7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

#healing, #sobriety, #anniversary

Seventy-One Birthdays

Fri, 14 Jun 2024 01:30:00 -0600

Remember when seventy-one seemed ancient??? I remember my great-grandfather dancing a soft shoe across the back porch of grandma’s house when I was little little girl. He was my age then…still raising cattle, frequenting auctions, and tearin’ up jack on the backroads in his Chevy. But he seemed older than Methuselah. I think we are younger old people now. In general, our health is better and we’ve remained active with intellectual curiosity. We didn’t have to work as hard as our elders and it shows.

I love this picture. Grandma grabbed me and the camera in one arm and the cake in the other and ran out the front door to get a picture of me with my first birthday cake. The house didn’t have running water then. No indoor bathroom…just an outhouse on the other side of a rickety bridge that ran across the “crick.” Uncle Buddy yelled, “Bring that cake back here!” Grandma paid him no mind…she was on a mission.

I look back now over my birthdays and I can’t really remember many of them. Mom gave me a surprise birthday party when I was thirteen. When I turned seventeen, my first boyfriend sent me roses. When I turned twenty-one, I was very pregnant and had my first child four weeks later. When I turned thirty, I was working hard putting my husband through medical school. When I turned forty, I had a child in college and a three year old. When I turned fifty, I was left on my own…trying to find my way after a tough split. When I turned sixty, I was a new widow. When I turned seventy….ahhhhh, when I turned seventy I was finally coming into my own! Happy, healthy, active…living in my home state and married to my best friend.

Yesterday was a perfectly wonderful birthday. People called and sent texts all day long. I put the pork butts in the smoker around 11:00. They should have gone in hours before that and since they didn’t, they were still in the smoker when I was writing this at 9:00 last night. That’s ok…we still had a nice meal and the pork will wait in he fridge till tonight. We did cut into my little birthday cake and I fixed some ice cream with my new Ninja Creami. After dinner, we went out and soaked in the pool. It was really hot yesterday and that pool felt great.

So, as my bestie Gail called it, National Ginny Day is over for another year. I want to thank you all for your wonderful birthday greetings. You all are the gift that keeps on giving and I am so grateful for your presence in my life!

🩵

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”
Numbers 6:24-26 ESV

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Thu, 13 Jun 2024 01:30:00 -0600

Courtney is a sweet friend I met in Nashville several years ago. We bonded over the fact her husband’s family is from West Virginia. So they’re good people! I love her relationship with God and how they are raising their children to have a close relationship with Jesus. A few years ago, she was saying nighttime prayers with her youngest…Gabe. When he was finished he said that when they were in West Virginia visiting her husband’s parents he and his sister Della lost their Daddy, MawMaw, and big brother, Seth. Gabe said they were really scared, so they had to “yell for Jesus!”

Have you ever found yourself lost and don’t know where to turn? I sure have. Courtney said if she had only one piece of advice she could give, it would be this. Yell for Jesus. You can’t do this alone. I know I can’t. I’ve tried. I’ve dug in my heels and said no to God so many times I am astounded He can forgive me. But he did. When I started yelling for Jesus, that’s when I found my way through the darkness of anxiety and depression back into the light. I just thought I’d share that with you today.

Wild Blackberries showed up in the hedgerow this year.

Yesterday was a super productive day. We always take our time with breakfast. That’s our time to just sit and enjoy each other’s company before the day gets started. And we don’t start early. We’re night owls so we sometimes don’t finish the breakfast dishes till nearly noon! Such was the case yesterday. Mr. FixIt was fiddling with something and I headed out to finish mowing. At some point, he came out to meet me in his truck. He was on his way into town to show some plans to a fellow he’s going to do a little building for.

I continued mowing then put the trimmer and the loppers in the back of my truck and headed out to the hedgerow along the creek out front. There are monstrous sycamore trees out there and their low hanging branches get heavy with leaves. This makes me have to duck down when I’m mowing. Actually, that happens a lot all the way around so every once in a while, I have to get aggressive with the trimmers and try to keep this jungle from closing in on us.

I worked for a little bit, but I was soon realized this is the side that gets full afternoon sun and it was WAY too hot for such heavy labor. I gave up and went inside to cool down and rehydrate. Before long, I was ready for round two. I went out and sprayed off the tractor and got all the grass off the top of the mower deck then put everything away. Mr. FixIt got home about supper time…with a dozen pink roses, a little birthday cake, and a new floatie for the pool. He’s such a love!

When I was a little girl, we went out to the farm just about every weekend. That place has always been more of home to me that the one I lived in with my parents. Supper in the summer time was often a simple affair. The only sun that farmhouse gets is in the late afternoon and it gets too hot to cook. Grandma would get a couple of jars of canned tomatoes from the cellar house thicken it with a mixture of flour and milk with salt, pepper, and sugar. Then she served it over slices of bread or leftover biscuits. I haven’t made that for so long and all day when I was out there mowing, that’s all I could think about.

Our house gets really hot in the afternoon, too. The exterior is red brick and that west facing wall is always ten degrees hotter than the ambient temperature. The last thing I want to do was heat up the kitchen, but I really wanted biscuits with the tomato gravy. I was looking at the directions on the can of biscuits (yes…I bought canned biscuits. The Pillsbury Grands aren’t too bad!) I noticed directions for the air fryer and I remembered one of my readers telling me they make biscuits that way and it doesn’t heat up the house.

I was pleasantly surprised! The biscuits were perfect. And the tomato gravy came together fast. Here’s my recipe:

Ginny’s West Virginia Creamed Tomatoes (akaTomato Gravy)

2 12oz cans of diced tomatoes
1/2 can evaporated milk
1-1 1/2 T. Wondra Flour
1 T. Butter
1-2 T. granulated sugar
Salt and Pepper to taste

Pour the tomatoes, juice and all, in a medium saucepan. Add the butter, salt, pepper, and sugar to the pan and place over medium heat. Stir Wondra Flour into evaporated milk and add to the tomatoes in the pan. Stir well and bring to a boil stirring frequently. Turn the heat down and let simmer till the biscuits are done.

Bake the biscuits in the air fryer at 330° for 7 minutes. Carefully turn them over and set the air fryer for another 4-5 minutes at 330°. They came out perfectly. Cut the biscuits in half and place in a good lined soup bowl. Ladle the hot Tomato Gravy over the biscuits and enjoy. This is truly a West Virginia treat!

After supper and the news, I got one of the pints of ice cream fixin’s out of the freezer and tried out my new Ninja Creami Ice Cream Maker. WOWZA! It was SO good and tasted exactly like chocolate soft serve. I used Splenda Glucerna Chocolate Smoothie as the base this time. We each got a nice sized serving of ice cream for 170 calories! I’m looking forward to trying all kinds of recipes in this thing.

I decided to wait for today to smoke the pork butts. It’s going to be a fun day! No need to work hard on my birthday, right? Seventy-one. I think 71 is more fun than ‘71…the year we graduated!

🥳

“May he grant you your heart’s desire and fulfill all your plans!”
Psalm 20:4 ESV

Happy Humpday!

Wed, 10 Apr 2024 01:30:00 -0600

Oh, the lengths a person will go to see. I’m determined to finish as many projects as I can from the stash I have. And these old eye have ‘seen’ their better days. In reading the stitching instructions for Common Ground, the sampler from Just Nan, I realized I had all but one of the threads. I was in town yesterday so I went to the craft store and found the thread, plus some bags on a ring to store the silks, and a cross stitch ruler. This has a gauge on it so you can check to see what the stitch count is on your fabric. All under $4 and it doesn’t add appreciably to the stash.

One of the things I saw in the craft store was a magnifier that you wear on your head. It had a light and was rechargeable. It reminded me I also saved one of those from my shop, but where was it? I ran through my inventory in my head and by the time I got home, I went straight to the right tub and pulled it out. There, use what you have or do without…thread and storage bags notwithstanding. This thing may look outrageous, but I’m telling you…you can SEE what you’re doing with it!

I met some girlfriends from high school for lunch and had such a good time. I had all these things I wanted to accomplish yesterday, but in all actuality, I just wanted to be done and get back home. I had every intention of going out to The Farm yesterday, but the weather reports says there will be severe thunderstorms this week. I am not crazy about being out there in severe weather. The trees on the hillsides on both sides of the house have big trees. The soil is clay and shale, so the roots aren’t all that stable as they grow large. I’ll wait till calmer weather before I head out. We will have to go next week and mow, though.

It’s getting warmer now. I’m sure the cold is past us. It’s probably safe to de-winterize the camper, but I might wait one more week just to be sure. There’s a lot to do before our trip to the beach and I need to start working on that. The camper needs a good cleaning. And I want to pull out the camping gear from storage. I know we don’t need ALL that stuff. It just adds weight to two, using up more gas. So, anything we didn’t use last year is out. We carted a grill with us everywhere last summer and never once used it.

I really need to start planning our summer trip to Colorado, too. That’ll be here before we know it. I am so glad we had the winter months to regroup. I could have done a lot of this instead of just sitting and knitting, but…after a long and crazy summer, I really NEED that downtime to recharge. My friends were saying yesterday…there’s a sense of urgency at this age. We’re burning daylight and you can’t put the sand back in the hourglass.

I was talking to some of them about ‘Positive Aging’. They wanted to know what I meant by that and my best explanation is…it’s an attitude. It’s accepting the reality of where we are in the moment, but living with purpose so it isn’t wasted. This time thing has become a more and more precious commodity with every passing year. I’m not playing around…I have things to do. And even if it’s sitting by a campfire or stitching or knitting or mowing the field, or baking a mean biscuit…it is MY life.

We spend so much of our lives giving it all away in order to take care of everyone without remembering to take care of ourselves. Self care isn’t selfish. It’s imperative. We can’t fill others from an empty cup. Especially if you are in the position of a full time caregiver. Schedule some self care time wherever and whenever you can. When people say, “What can I do to help?” give them a blessing. Let them nurture you a little. Don’t worry that the house isn’t presentable or that they can’t possibly do things the way you do. Go anyway. Even if it’s just down the street for a cup of coffee with a good book.

So, Happy Humpday…be good to yourself today! You deserve it!

🩵🌷🩵

”Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.“
3 John 1:2 NIV

So Long, My Friend

Fri, 29 Mar 2024 01:30:00 -0600

I heard yesterday that we have lost a dear friend in the camping community. I met Lynn Butler soon after I moved back home to West Virginia. She was the ultimate girl camper. She owned Setzer’s RV in Huntington, WV and hosted Girl Camper College a couple of times. I was fortunate to get to camp with her once. And there was a story that went along with it.

Remember when I had the honor of traveling around with the R-Pod 196 and I camped all over West Virginia? Well, I was traveling for a couple of weeks with Janine…Camper-in-Chief of Girl Camper fame. We attended the big RV Show in Elkhart, Indiana then moved on to the RV Show in Pennsylvania where we picked up the R-Pod.

When the Hershey Show was over, Janine and I drove down to our place here at Marshmallow Ranch and camped overnight before we headed to a camp out at Girl Camper College at Beech Fork State Park. If any of you have ever driven up the road to Beech Fork, you know it is narrow and twisty-turny. We were coming around a curve and there was a truck coming right at me in my lane. I scooched to the right and my right wheel dropped off the pavement. We moved on a little bit, but I could tell I definitely had a hitch in my get-along.

Lynn on TV in one of her commercials!

Lynn was driving with us and Janine was following with her camper. I finally found a driveway I could pull into and Lynn stopped with us. In her expert opinion, she wanted the trailer hauled back to the dealership to fix it. She called her service guy and he was there in a heartbeat. I drove on with Lynn and she put my up in her Riverside Retro so I could still camp out. I was so embarrassed because I hadn’t been towing the new R-Pod for ten minutes!

Setzer’s RV was Lynn’s mom’s business. Lynn took over when her mom couldn’t do it anymore. And, now that Lynn is gone, her daughter is doing the same. Lynn was a force of nature. An excellent business woman. A good friend. A fabulous mother and grandmother. And avid Marshall fan. I wish I would have taken more opportunities to camp with her. But I will always remember her generosity and kindness.

Whenever I hear of a loss like this, it makes me pause and ask myself, “Am I doing all I can to be a good person and contribute to the world?” Lynn was four months younger than me. It’s sobering to lose your contemporaries and it seems to be happening more and more often these days. It makes you stop and take inventory. We don’t know when it’s our last day, and I know I have a ton more I want to accomplish. None of us are getting any younger.

🌷

”For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.“
1 Corinthians 13:12-13 NIV

The Matriarch

Fri, 08 Mar 2024 02:30:00 -0600

My grandmother was fifty-six years old when I was born. My grandma was only forty-eight. Yet…they seemed ancient to me when I was a little girl. Their hair was gray and their skin was soft with wrinkles. Blue veins traced rivers on the backs of their hands and brown “liver spots” dotted their arms. They were magical beings with vast knowledge of such things as the perfect chicken and dumplings and soothing slices of jelly bread. They kissed away booboos and loved me unconditionally…my grandma most of all.

I was standing in front of the mirror at The Farm yesterday morning, brushing my own grey hair and pinning it up in a bun just as Grandma had always done. I never knew her to have short hair. As far as I know, she had never cut it or gone to a beauty shop. And she never had bangs. I’ve been letting my bangs grow out. I trimmed them myself through the pandemic so I just kept doing it. Then I waited a little too long and was afraid I’d botch it up. Not wanting to go to the hairdresser, I decided to let them grow out to see if I like them. I don’t NOT like them. I wore my hair swept back when I was growing up. My bangs are getting long enough to sweep them back when I pin my hair up, as long as the bun is high on my head. The jury is still out. I think I notice my face more and maybe that’s not a bad thing. I don’t feel the need to hide anymore and this is a little liberating.

That’s me in the center of the photo with my uncle and cousins going for a ride in the old Model A truck.

My Noom lesson yesterday was on self confidence and giving yourself compliments. We are quick to compliment others, yet we are so hard on ourselves. My exercise for the day was to stand in front of the mirror and give myself a believable compliment…out loud. I stepped closer to the mirror and looked at myself critically. I’ve always had a distinct widow’s peak and that’s why I’ve worn bangs. I was self conscious of the receding hairline on either side of my face. I finished brushing my hair back and said to the girl with the grandmother face who was smiling at me.

“You have a kind face. Your eyes crinkle with your laughter and twinkle with happiness. Every line on your beautiful face reminds you of the multitude of smiles you’ve given over the seventy years your presence has been known here. You are exactly as you were meant to be and exactly where you belong!”

I gave myself a big hug and you know what? I felt better! Why are women so hard on themselves…and on each other? We should be celebrated for the glorious and powerful creatures we are! We should be lifting each other up at every turn and encouraging each other with positivity, love, and grace. I used to be so threatened by other women. And now? No way! I am past all that. I am of the mind that if another doesn’t like me or accept me as I am, they are not deserving of my time and energy and I release myself from the burden of bearing the weight of something that is no longer mine to carry.

I took this picture because, honestly…I don’t see that angle of myself. I wanted to see what the roadmap of wrinkles on my cheeks were up to. When I looked, I smiled. I’m not sad to have my grandmother’s face or my grandma’s long hair swept back in a bun. I’m honored to be counted among the crones.

I am the matriarch now.

🩵

”Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.“
Proverbs 31:30-31 NIV

#Matriarch, #Aging, #PositiveAging, #InternationalWomensDay

This is My Heart

Sat, 24 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

This guy right here…he’s been mine since the day I was born. I’m not sure my mom knew anything was wrong with Bubby till I was around two years old. A lot came down on my mom around then. Her brother was killed in a plane crash in Germany. And they told her my big brother had Cerebral Palsy and had intellectual disabilities. It was a hard time for her…for all of us. So much sadness. I didn’t understand what any of that meant at the time. He was just my Bubby. I was his champion. I interpreted his speech for others. I protected him from bullies. He was my whole world and I’ve loved him forever.

Remember when I told you a couple of weeks ago that I had a couple of special people with health issues? One of them was my Bubby. They called me on a Wednesday afternoon and they told me he was in the ambulance heading to the hospital. His nurse said it was dire and could I come right away? Traveling from West Virginia to Colorado in the winter is wicked awful and bloody expensive. Of COURSE I would go, but I asked her to please wait to see what the ER doctor said. Thank God they were able to give him medication and get him straightened up, but the kept him overnight for observation, just to be sure he was ok.

He’s fine now. It was an abnormal heart rate due to a medication change. This time. But I know it’s likely there will be a time when I’ll have to make that emergency trip to be with him when he needs me. I can’t bring him here. It’s a matter of funding. If he changes to West Virginia funding, it could take ten years to find a placement. He’s much better being where he is with people who know him and love him.

We had his annual review Thursday and it did my heart good to see him happy and doing well. We are both enjoying seeing each other on the Echo Show a couple of times a week. And, we’ll see him this summer during our annual trip to Colorado. In the meantime, the staff sends me pictures from time to time so I can see what he’s been up to. His latest adventure is ROCK CLIMBING!

Isn’t this the coolest thing???

Oh….my heart!

🩵

”A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.“
Proverbs 17:17 NIV

Let Your Marriage Breathe

Thu, 15 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

When you open a fine bottle of wine, you need to give it time to breathe in order to truly experience its intricacies. An older bottle especially needs to breathe because exposing the wine to air allows unfavorable compounds like sulfites and ethanol to evaporate. It also allows the wine to develop more favorable tastes and bloom…to develop its “nose” so more of your senses are involved when you sip it. It just makes the whole experience more delightful.

Marriage is a lot like a fine bottle of wine. If it’s precious…and rare…you treasure it. You want it to last. So, like a rare wine, you have to age it well. You keep it at the perfect temperature so as to let it mellow and become more complex. You tend to it by keeping it safe from the dangers of outside forces. Then, when a special occasion comes around and you want to celebrate, you open it up.

But if you just pour it out and drink it down, you’re going to be terribly disappointed. It’ll be bitter and acrid. You might even be tempted to just dump the whole thing down the drain. If you do, you could miss out on the most amazing experience of your life. You could miss all those beautiful and complex floral notes, or the rich and robust oaky flavors that can only come from something you’ve guarded and protected and treated right over the years.

We woke up yesterday to a sunny, gorgeous Valentine’s Day. I made the perfect breakfast…popcorn pancakes, bacon, and eggs. I did the dishes. We filled the bird feeders. I worked on the blanket I’ve been trying to make. It’s REALLY a tricky pattern but I am determined to keep trying. We sat down to watch another episode or two of Bull, and I got a notification on my phone.

“Send your Valentine a custom greeting with photos and music.”

I connected, typed in my sentiment, and selected as many pictures of the two of us as I could find, and sent it via text to Mr. FixIt sitting in his Big Red Chair across the room from me.

His phone dinged and he picked it up. I could see the curiosity on his face then the music started and our life together unfolded in front of his eyes. He softened…kinda melted, really. And the look he gave me was all the Valentines in the world wrapped in a big red bow.

When you take good care of something old and precious, it rewards you a hundredfold. I’m so glad I have taken such good care of this particular vintage. It is divine…because we let it breathe.

🩵

”The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”“
Genesis 2:18 NIV

Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall…and a Great Cup of Tea!

Tue, 13 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

Knitting group was small this week…just three of us. We really did more talking than knitting. There was cake and coffee but I didn’t partake. Not that cake and coffee are bad foods…I just didn’t care for them. At some point, one of the gals needed help with something and I stood to help her. When I did, the back legs of the chair got stuck in the carpet and I ended up hiney over teakettle. Somehow I got tangled up in that chair and could not get out. I scraped the front of my left shin and got a deep bruise in the thigh of my right leg. I strained my right wrist and right ankle and hurt my lower back. Holy smokes…all that from standing up!

As we age, we have a higher risk of falls. Vision issues, medication side effects, and simply age related changes can cause falls in those over 65 can be an indication that you need to have a conversation with your doctor to evaluate what’s going on. I’ll call my primary caregiver and inform her I’ve fallen twice now since late November. That’s not an outrageous number, but something I want to stay on top of. I’m fortunate I didn’t break a hip or something.

I worked on a new blanket yesterday and ended up ripping it out when I got home. This particular pattern has to be done with great concentration…not while conversing with friends. I also crocheted a small basket that I might use at Easter for the littles. It was a quiet afternoon with my sweetie…warmed up spaghetti for supper and lots of Bull reruns. Nothing really big to report.

One of the lovely ladies that attends the Monday Morning Knitting Group brought in this little baby quilt. They were hers…and she is 80. Aren’t they precious???

I hope you’re having a good start to your week. It’s going to be rainy here. I would have gone out to the camper because I really love hearing the rain on the roof, but it was supposed to get down to 33° with a winter mix. No need to go out there when I wouldn’t be comfortable. I’ve kinda gotten past the urge to prove myself capable in that setting…been there, done that. I just stayed in my comfy little house with the window open so I could hear the rain…and the screech owls. And whatever else comes our way.

But first, a lovely cup of Blue Lotus Traditional Masala Chai in my Big Red Chair! As my grandma used to say…it’s good for what ails ya!

🩵

”They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen.“
Acts 4:28 NIV

Every Day Brings Sweetness

Sat, 16 Dec 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt was already gone when I got up yesterday morning. I yawned and stretched. What was that sound that woke me. I listened closer and could hear voices and the sound of metal against metal. Ahhhh…the roofer dudes were back gathering the scrap from their roofing job. They cleaned up well, but we’ll still have to run the magnet over the lawn to check for nails. I heard them drive off and I got up to start my day.

I padded into the kitchen to put the kettle on while I dressed. I had no plans outside of working on the last of the Christmas gifts. The house was peaceful and quiet as I took my morning cuppa and headed downstairs to my “studio.” It’s vastly different than my first studio in Colorado. That one was on the second floor of my little farmhouse on top of the hill. One wall was filled with large windows and my view of the elk grazing on Mount Medaris always thrilled me.

Once we get the extra bedroom cleared out and the ceiling repaired from an old leak, I think I’ll set my studio up in there. It has windows on two sides and I’d love to have the natural light. But for now, I am grateful to carve out a space where I can work and not have to put it all away at the end of the day. Right now that corner of the basement looks like a tornado went through it.

I managed to get five hats done yesterday. I still need to make some more Christmas stockings and get things out in the mail. I’m hoping they’ll arrive before Christmas, but if not, it’ll be the gift that keeps on giving. I was downstairs working when my sweetheart came home. He went to town to get his truck inspected and we are now officially a two vehicle family again! Now I’ll be able to go out to The Farm for a little R&R…probably after the holidays.

My brother called me a couple of weeks ago and asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him he really didn’t need to buy me anything, but I’d love it if he sent me a Christmas card with a nice newsy letter in it. He used to write me the nicest letters. I still have them. Sometimes they would be three or four pages long…front and back, handwritten in his careful cursive. He always signed them, “Your brother,” and his first, middle, and last names. They always warmed my heart.

I’ve known he’s slowly going downhill. We all are. But when I saw his writing, I could see how much. It doesn’t stop me from being his biggest cheerleader and giving him every ounce of love I can. He owns the biggest part of my heart and always will.

Mr. FixIt is picking up a buddy today to go to a lunch with his old work buddies. I’ll get a couple packages wrapped and mailed out this morning and get back to work on the Christmas stockings. I think I’ll make some loaves of Cranberry Walnut Bread to take to knitting group on Monday. That will make the house smell so good.

‘Tis the Season to be Jolly!

🎄

”Let all that you do be done in love.“
1 Corinthians 16:14 ESV

The Early Bird and The Late Bloomer

Sun, 27 Aug 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I woke up at 5:30 yesterday morning. The sky was just starting to turn pink and I made the mistake of looking at my phone. My post hadn’t gone live, although I checked and double checked. When I went in and looked, it was just sitting there like a truck stuck in the mud. All it took was hitting a button and off it went through the ether. Amazing, isn’t it? Our grandparents wouldn’t know what to think about all this and how we spend our time.

Since my mind was wide awake by this point, I decided to put everything away in the camper and get it ready to haul to a rest area that has a dump station. I finished and had Grace parked in her home campsite by noon. Next up was cleaning and photographing the interior of the Lincoln for the insurance company. I have learned so much from Mr. FixIt about how to BE in the world. There are things I never knew how to do as a doctor’s wife. And even as Mr. Virgo’s wife. He taught me a lot of things, but not mechanical things or other practical daily living things.

Mr. FixIt is a unique breed of individual. He’s a West Virginian…born and bred. He’s resourceful. He has worked since he was 7 years old when his father bought a movie theater and put the boys to work sweeping floors and popping corn. He can do anything. In the past, if I ever had to make an insurance claim, I was instructed to get an estimate. I submitted it to the insurance company and they either paid me by check or they paid the body shop. I did not know I could negotiate with the insurance company. I always just took their word for it. But like almost any other financial transaction, this is negotiable.

The initial estimate for the car being totaled wasn’t nearly as much as the car is worth. That’s because the adjuster looked at privately owned Lincolns with the same mileage. However, if it were a dealer car, the amount would be much higher. You could EAT off this car’s engine. It in no way looks like a twenty-one year old car. We cleaned it up and took a bazillion pictures to show just how cherry this little Continental really is. Now we send the photos to the insurance company and wait to see what they say. If it’s still not higher, we will insist they send an adjuster to us or we’ll find our own. We will exhaust all avenues because a few thousand dollars means a lot more to me now than it did when I was a Domestic Goddess.

It’s funny. Now that I’ve turned 70, things are different somehow. I haven’t had an anxiety attack in a year or more. I’m strong and confident and my BS detector is locked and loaded. I’m becoming a force to be reckoned with and that is completely foreign territory for me. I love it!

I’ve always known I was a late bloomer, but I swear I never dreamed I’d just be blooming now!

“Joyful is the person who finds wisdom, the one who gains understanding.”
Proverbs 3:13 NLT

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The most prominent image I have of autumn in West Virginia is walking to school…shuffling my feet through the fallen leaves on the sidewalk. It always felt so cozy and comforting. This mug shows the beautiful colors you can find in… #AlmostHeaven

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The Old Woman

Mon, 14 Aug 2023 01:30:00 -0600

"We Were Young and Beautiful...Now We Are Just Beautiful!"

An old woman came to my door today. I’ve known her since I was in my early twenties. I lost track of her in my thirties. Then, she moved in with us when I was in my early forties. She was usually pretty quiet. She struck me as sad though she never told me that. When I turned fifty-three, I moved away and she didn’t come with me.

I see her every once in a while…more so the last couple of years. She hovers in the background, watching….and waiting. She doesn’t impose. She’s very polite in her waiting. I’ve felt her nearby. I’ve kinda been anticipating a visit.

And yesterday…she knocked on my door.

Proverbially.

We had to work on the lawn. The storms are coming hard and heavy every couple of days. It’s making the grass grow and interferes with our ability to mow it. The growth was getting a little out of hand. Along with this grass growing, the hedgerow is creeping incrementally into my mowing space. When it gets to the point that I can’t bend forward and mow under the overhanging branches, it’s time to get out the loppers and do some trimming.

We have thorny things that grow out there. Multiflora rose. Russian olive. I don’t know what all, but they are insidious and grab at your skin and clothes. I cut a pretty thick branch off and when it came down, I grabbed for it and missed. A sharp bit snagged the skin on the back of my hand and tore my skin like paper.

Knock, knock, knock! Anybody home?

I was shocked. The old woman looked down at my hand…holding it gently in her own.

“There it is.”

“There what is?” I demanded.

She took out a tissue and slid the paper thin triangle of skin back into place and wiped away the blood. She looked deep into my eyes, as if to size me up. Was I going to cry? Was I going to cuss a blue streak?

“It’s ok. It happens to everyone eventually.” She brushed a wisp of flyaway hair behind my ear, touched the beautiful feather of a red-shouldered hawk I picked up in the field. “They bring you peace, don’t they? The birds.”

“Yes, they do. I won’t mow over one of their feathers if I can help it.” I said, giving her the side eye. I wasn’t exactly thrilled she decided to show up today.

“You have all this beauty around you. Your birds give you the gift of their feathers. You wear your silver crown well, you know. Are you going to let this little thing with your skin get you down?”

“No. It’s just so…shocking, I guess. I’ve taken care of elderly people with fragile skin since before I turned twenty. I just didn’t expect to see it today…on my hand.”

“Well, don’t worry yourself over it. I’ll be nearby to guide you whenever you need me.” She patted me on the back and turned to walk back into the woods.

I watched her fading into the dense foliage. “Wait! Who ARE you???”

“Don’t you know, love. I’m your Guardian Angel. I’ve been with you all these years. You are quite the assignment!”

Ahhhhh….of course. I’ve known she was there all along. I’m just really glad she met me in the woods on this sunny Sunday and let me know…aging doesn’t have to be bad or scary. It just…is. The first little tear of fragile skin is as much a right of passage as starting your period or getting your heart broken.

It’s ok.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 NIV

Summer Solstice Come and Gone

Fri, 23 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

We were sitting around the campfire Wednesday night when one of the girls said, “Hey! It’s the Summer Solstice! Aren’t we supposed to get naked and dance around the campfire or something?” We all looked at each other in our 70-or-darned-near-it bodies and laughed and laughed. Ummmmm, hard pass.

I’m losing weight so I’m feeling pretty good about that. I bought a new scale for the occasion. It measures accurately…unless I think I should have lost more or maybe I gained a little. But overall, I’d say it’s pretty accurate. It’s slick looking, too. Black glass. It tells me my weight and BMI…Body Mass Index. A number solely designed to confuse those of us who think maybe 30 ain’t so bad. It gives you the weather report and by golly, it wished me Happy Birthday! This thing is uptown.

It’s very shiny. I always weigh myself au naturale. I keep the scale in the bathroom between the toilet and the cabinet so it’s easy to get to but out of the way. I pulled it out and set it down on the floor and caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection…bending over. Oh, my Gosh! The elastin in 70-year-old skin is definitely NOT the same as it was in my younger years and I laughed and laughed. What once were perky were now resembling water balloons left over from last weekend’s pool party swinging in the wind!

One of the gals camping with us this week just had her 70th birthday. She is celebrating her birthday year with 70 vacations. She’s my kind of friend. She’s not feeling as good about turning 70 as I am. She was pointing out the flaws in her skin. How there are wrinkles now where there hadn’t been before….seemingly overnight. I felt for her. I had a birthday that hit me hard once. I was 26. Ten years since I started to drive. Ten years since I started to date. It wasn’t long till I realized the folly in that. These are choices. And I swore after God saved me from an overdose and a life of addiction, I would NEVER complain about being blessed with another year on the right side of the grass.

But…Summer Solstice??? Ohhhhhh…that means the light of day will become incrementally shorter now. And you know me with light. I crave as much light as possible. So, there’s only one thing to do…get out there and grab this year by the mane and ride it till the cows come home!

In a really good support bra, of course.

“It is pleasant to see dreams come true, but fools refuse to turn from evil to attain them.”
Proverbs 13:19 NLT

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Sand + Sea…a lovely light scarf that reminds you of summers by the shore.

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Camping Critters

Wed, 21 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

The little camp cat…I’m so tempted to take her home, but I’m afraid Pumpkin will hurt her. She attacks anything that steps foot on her turf.

We awoke yesterday to sprinkles and it looked like rain several times but never happened. We had breakfast under the pavilion. Lynn and Michelle bring their dogs with them when they camp. Lynn has two Corgis and Michelle has a Leonberger. They are best friends who love to travel together and it’s usually in Lynn’s Class B van. Now imagine two people and three dogs sleeping in a Roadtrek. Lynn has it fixed up with crates for the dogs to sleep in and she has made good economical use of her space. But I’m afraid I’d be getting a little claustrophobic with all that extra company.

Michelle and her big boy! The picture of the corgis didn’t come out…I’ll try tomorrow.

It’s always a pleasure to camp with them. Gail has her camper van here when she is the Camp Host and we get the girlfriends together at least twice a year for a campout. I come along once and I bring Mr. FixIt with me in the fall. We love this campground…it’s one of our top five favorites. Afternoon tea, naps, magazines, knitting (or other crafts), and good conversation. These are my kind of campers. There is cocktail hour, but alcohol is not the central focus.

Chatting around the fire and looking up answers to questions on Google! Better living through technology.

We had a campfire last night and I made popcorn in the Detonator Popper with the crank that stirs the kernels to keep them from burning. I went online and found the directions so I would know what amounts to use. They suggest unrefined coconut oil because it doesn’t burn or smoke and the popcorn comes out nice and fluffy. I purchased popcorn seasoning at Walmart when I bought the coconut oil on my way here. We had Cheesy Jalapeño, Kettle Corn, Chile Limon, and Butter so you could choose your flavor. It was really good and we had so much fun sitting around the campfire talking. Actually, the campfire didn’t bother me last night. The wind continually blew the smoke away from me so I didn’t get choked on it.

One more night and I head home to my Mr. FixIt!

“Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.”
Romans 12:10 NLT

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Marshmallow Ranch Designs

A Lovely Day at Home

Sat, 17 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt got a call yesterday from our son inviting him on an outing for Father’s Day. They usually play a round of golf, but he’s not quite up for that yet, so they’re going fishing. He decided to go to town after supper to get bait for his excursion and asked if I wanted to go. As much as I love to go places with him, I wanted to stay home on Thursday and that didn’t happen. So, I passed. He wants to be home with me today to help me pack the camper and truck for my camping trip with the girls, so that’s a fair exchange.

We’ve had some rain the last week and we’re so grateful. The ground was beginning to crack open because we’ve been so dry. I love those late afternoon, early evening showers that cool things off without being steamy from humidity. I worked most of the day on Marshmallow Ranch Designs and have some cute new things coming….mugs, scarves, garden flags, etc.

I made a yummy meal yesterday of skinless, boneless chicken thighs simmered in a lemon cream sauce with portobello mushrooms and Vidalia onions served over a bed of fluffy quinoa. A side of steamed asparagus rounded out the meal and it really was good. I’m continuing to lose weight gradually and even if it’s just a few ounces, every day has been a new low. Noom has been so easy for me to follow and I’ve learned a lot about the psychology of why I overeat.

I’m an emotional eater and I’m an instant gratification girl. Dicey combo. I want what I want and I want it now. Usually I give up on diets and end up regaining all I’ve lost and then some. This time I really want to do things different. I’ve been reading devotionals about taking the hurry out of life. I’ve always been running on the treadmill of life. Oh, I can spend a considerable amount of time in retreat and chill. But my mind is going a hundred miles an hour so I miss a lot of the here and now.

Mindfulness is something I have to work on. Staying present always is a challenge. My ADHD and neurodiverse thinking makes it difficult sometimes. I will have to say, I’ve seen a big difference in my mental clarity since I started Noom, cut out preservatives and additives, and started drinking RYZE. I know “mushroom coffee” sounds really gross, doesn’t it? But I add a little milk, my sweetener of choice, and some of my homemade vanilla extract and it’s really, really good. It kind of tastes like a cafe mocha.

There are six varieties of mushrooms in RYZE, each with a different purpose. Cordyceps for sustained energy, Reishi for stress relief, Turkey Tail to protect the gut, Lion’s Mane for better focus, Shiitake to support immunity and King Trumpet to fight inflammation. Now, I do not know if Western Medicine would agree with these statements or not, but Eastern Medicine has been around a whole lot longer, and I say…if it doesn’t hurt me, I’ll try it to see if it works.

I’ve been drinking one, sometimes two cups of RYZE every morning when I get up and I have to admit, I am experiencing better mental clarity, word finding has improved, I definitely have more energy and stamina, and my joint pain has markedly decreased. So between that and losing weight with Noom, I’m feeling like a new woman.

I thrive on change. Mr. FixIt avoids change at every turn, so I’m learning how to navigate that while keeping our marriage happy and thriving. I cannot stand sitting and watching TV all day. That’s how I got into this overweight mess in the first place. So, I’m being more proactive in doing things I enjoy and that brings more topics of conversation into our days. And, I find when I’m up and doing things, we end up doing more active “together” stuff. This is all getting better with the relief Mr. FixIt is finding from his back pain. It’s hard to want to get up and do things when you are in pain.

I’ve found whatever I’m doing, it takes as long as it takes so I’m learning to be more gentle with myself. Having just turned 70 years old this week, you would think I’d have had this all worked out by now. But that’s the beauty of life…we never stop learning and we never stop growing as long as we work at it.

“Let the wise listen to these proverbs and become even wiser. Let those with understanding receive guidance by exploring the meaning in these proverbs and parables, the words of the wise and their riddles.”
Proverbs 1:5-6 NLT

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Life is Like the Ocean…It Goes Up and Down. True words.

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A Storybook Wedding and a Monumental Birthday

Tue, 13 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Photo Credit: Maddi Randolph Photography - maddirandolphphotography.com

There is an unspoken code. One should not share certain things online until the proper time. You don’t announce the birth of a baby till the parents have. And…you definitely don’t share photos of the bride and groom until they have had a chance to catch their breath and share some photos themselves. You don’t want to step on toes or steal someone’s thunder.

I was so honored to have a “Grandmother Corsage!”

That being said, I made a promise. No photos on social media till I got the go ahead from our granddaughter. We didn’t have to wait long as they posted their first photo yesterday morning so I’m free to post a few…one from their amazing photographer and some of my own. Plus…Mr. FixIt took me out for dinner last night at Olive Garden. We felt like grownups! AND…I stayed under my calorie budget and that included splitting a Tiramisu with my sweetheart.

Birthday Dinner at Olive Garden: Unlimited Soup + Salad + Tiramisu

But first…the wedding. The bridal party got started with their day at 9:00 yesterday morning with the girls breakfast. Then hair and makeup and lunch and fun in the Bride’s Suite. In the meantime, the guys slept till 11:00 and hung out in the Groom’s Suite till it was time for photos.

We arrived at 2:15 and family photos started around 2:45. We sat around on the porch overlooking fields and woods. There was a lovely breeze and unfortunately, I didn’t spray my hair so I had that windswept look all day. I didn’t really care and I don’t think anyone else was sitting around pointing it out. (Our younger selves might have been eaten up with that little nugget in our brains, right?)

This was one of the biggest weddings I’ve ever been to. And our granddaughter did a wonderful job working out a complete time table. The immediate family members had their own copy and if you weren’t where you were supposed to be at the designated time, you just might not have been in the picture. Everything went like clockwork and there was no time to sit around and fret and be nervous. It was great!

At the appointed time, we all walked down through a meadow to an area in front of the lake. There was a fountain out in the water that was framed by a unique hexagon shaped arbor adorned with a plethora of cabbage roses and peonies in soft shades from creamy white to deep pink. At a point to the left, a bridge went out to a pavilion on an island in the lake and a dock went out further still. There were so many photo worthy spots on this gorgeous property and we got our steps in checking them all out.

The DJ had a sound system discreetly set up and soft, dreamy music entertained us as the guests arrived. Folks waved to family and friends as they found their seats and there were many who mouthed, “Isn’t this gorgeous?” Bridal rituals change like fashions and we were surprised to see each member of the bridal party come down the aisle alone. The groomsmen in tuxedos of royal blue and the bridesmaids in the softest shell pink. The dresses were all the same color and lovely flowing material, but each dress was a different style. This gave each of them their moment to shine and it didn’t add but a minute or two to the service.

We all rose and watched my bonus son walk his first born down the aisle. They were walking right into the sun but they did their best not to squint too much. The actual ceremony was short and sweet…five minutes at the most. Which is perfectly fine, really. Five-thirty is the hottest time of the day and we were in the low 80’s at that point. There was a small table with folding fans and iced water just before you went down the aisle to your seat…a thoughtful touch.

Photo Credit: Mr. FixIt

After the ceremony, there were more group photos to include the newlyweds then off we went to the big building for the reception. This was definitely a social milieu with little conversation areas. There was a directory at the front of the hall with seated arrangements. Each row of long rustic farm tables were dressed with a runner of creamy white chiffon and a vine of simple greenery. Tucked in were candles and small vases with a single pink peony or a small cluster of white flowers. At the aisle of each row was a clear acrylic sign with your table number so you could easily find your seat.

Photo Credit: The Farmer’s Daughter and Son, LTD

There was an opening prayer by the officiant. There were the usual toasts and stories. There was a cocktail hour with a bar and finger foods. Between cocktail hour and dinner, here was a brief interruption while we went outside to catch the Golden hour…that magical hour just before the sun sets and the air turns…well…golden! Everything looks perfect in that golden light of dusk.

Photo Credit: Mr. FixIt

Then the dinner was served buffet style. Carved Roast Sirloin with Au Jus, Chicken Cordon Bleu, Buttered Parsley Potatoes, Caribbean Vegetables, and Greek Pasta with Roasted Vegetables. OMGosh! Everything was SO good. They cut the cake and were sweet with it…no smearing cake all over each other at this wedding.

As soon as the cake was served, the DJ started the music and called up the bride and groom for their first dance, then father of the bride and bride, then mother of the groom and groom. Then they did the sweetest thing. They asked all married couples to come up for a special dance. After a bit, the DJ asked all who were married five years and less to be seated. Then ten, fifteen, etc. until there was one couple standing till he finally hit fifty-five and they threw their arms up in the air and laughed. Everyone cheered and they got a special picture taken with the bride and groom.

Photo Credit: Curt Plummer

After that it was a free for all and everyone was dancing with everyone else. They had “bump sticks” that twinkled in the dark and glasses made of glow sticks. The music was loud and no one could hear anyone talking but who cared? I loved how they took the great songs of my generation that all us well seasoned folks would know and remixed them with the club beats that these kids were into. It was great fun and I literally danced till I couldn’t dance anymore. I thought for sure I’d have trouble walking when I got up, but I did ok. And that was the end of a beautiful storybook weekend…a day that we will remember forever and ever!

Photo Credit: The Bride + Groom

““Your forest-drenched garments are fragrant with mountain breeze. Chamber music—from the throne room— makes you want to dance. Kings’ daughters are maids in your court, the Bride glittering with golden jewelry. * * *”
Psalms 45:8-9 MSG

#Wedding, #LoveIsInTheAirhart, #PerfectDay

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It’s summer and you know what that means…the mermaids are out and about, splashing here and there. Better be safe and warn drivers to watch out for them at the “Mermaid Crossing!”

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An Abundance of Gratitude

Fri, 02 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

A look down inside an old Poplar Tree stump. My PopPop planted this tree when I was almost a teenager. It got really big, really fast and when my elderly aunt lived here alone, she didn’t like the way it twisted and turned in the windstorms so she asked my uncle to cut it down. This is all that’s left and there is a young berry vine growing in it. I suppose a bird “planted” the seed and off it went!

First of all, I want to thank you all for your wonderful words of support and admiration for the quilt I made for our granddaughter’s wedding. You are right…it was truly a labor of love. I joked with the former Mrs. FixIt that I was going to need to start on her little sister’s quilt soon so I won’t be so pushed for time to get it done. She just finished her first year of college…so time’s a’wastin’!

I decided to stay at the farm for one more day because I have been neglecting my shop in order to finish the quilt. With this lightning fast internet, I was hoping to get boatloads done. Unfortunately, what I learned was…it wasn’t JUST the internet that is slow. I have had this laptop for several years and no matter how much I take off of it and move data to an external hard drive, I think it has just about reached the end of its usefulness. It really is impossible to get ahead if it takes you all day to do three little things. So, I’ll be watching for sales for a good laptop because we travel so much…I need something portable.

Once I finished with the three items I was designing, I started researching a little on our Colorado trip. I usually have this completely finished with an itinerary in a file, mapped out with directions, maps, phone and reservation numbers. I’m just way behind. I have no doubt it will all fall into place and work out perfectly. To be honest, I was concerned the debt ceiling wouldn’t get passed and our Social Security checks would be in jeopardy. I was a little hesitant to spend money preparing for a trip we might not be able to take. I’m thinking we have a little breathing room now and things will be ok…for now, anyway.

I was really frustrated yesterday when I got on the scale and it went up a pound and a half again. I have never weighed every day when I’ve followed a diet plan, but Noom is different. If it keeps frustrating me, I’m going to put the same weight every day and just weigh once a week. There is no need to risk quitting out of frustration. I’m enjoying the learning that come with this program. I’ve always been science and psychology oriented so this is definitely in my wheelhouse.

At the risk of putting some of you off, I am going to share something I made in my shop. I can’t remember if I shared the boots I made for Little for the big 16th birthday. Little loves dinosaurs and bright colors, so I designed these. They were a BIG hit and all the kids at school LOVED them. So much so that some of the teachers want me to design some for them as well! I finally got a chance to work on them yesterday so I’ll share a little. I love how they came out!

I tried to light the hot water heater yesterday. It started right up in December when I tried to light it, but there was something wrong with the exhaust vent so I turned it back off. No matter what I tried yesterday, it simply would NOT light. Mr. FixIt said he’ll try it when he comes out next time. I’ll be back out tomorrow to put some air in the well pump but he can’t make it out. He has two things he has to go to.

So, this morning I’ll pack up and head back home to my sweetheart. Absence really DOES make the heart grow fonder!

“That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.”
Genesis 2:24 NIV

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Positive Aging entails embracing all things with a sense of joy and hope. One of the things that I’ve been adamant about regarding my upcoming 70th Birthday is…NO negative self-talk. I am NOT old! I’ve got grey hair and I love it! Gone are the days of dying my hair and acrylic nails. I am what…and WHO…I am. Grey Hair…Don’t Care!!!

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Update on Operation Health Transformation

Sun, 21 May 2023 01:30:00 -0600

As I started sliding out of my sixties and preparing for my seventies, I realized I couldn’t keep going with my out-of-control lifestyle. While it’s been decades since I abused alcohol and prescription drugs, I still had certain “addictions” I had to deal with….mainly sugar. I’ve always had a sweet tooth and it had started taking its toll on my health. It got to the point where I’d buy our “weekend cake” on Friday and it was gone on Sunday night. It was just awful and had to stop.

Having worked as a Diabetes Educator many years ago, I know the HOW of weight loss. It boils down to expending more calories than what you take in. Pretty simple. The piece I’ve always been missing was the WHY. Why do I overeat? Why do I lose weight only to gain it back? I started Noom on May 1st because I knew I needed support and accountability.

It takes a lot of planning to follow a healthy meal plan. It’s more expensive to eat fresh so you have to shop around for bargains and plan your menus more carefully. It’s a lot easier to grab quick, processed or fast foods. I got lazy…complacent…self-indulgent. I fell back into the habit of rewarding myself with food. I want food to be fun again. I want to be mindful when I eat and focus on the pleasures of freshness and what better time to do that than in the spring and summer!

One problem I’ve been running into is meeting my minimum calorie recommendations. If I don’t eat enough, my body will respond by slowing down my metabolism making it even harder to lose weight. It’s discouraging when you watch so carefully and stay the same weight for a whole week. But yesterday morning the scale moved down at last and I attribute that to INCREASING my caloric intake and physical activity.

It’s getting easier and easier this week to steer away from sweets. I treat myself with frozen grapes and fresh fruit. My latest treat has been Wasa Crispbread with goat cheese and as many sliced red grapes as I can fit on the cracker. So, so yummy and satisfying with the herbal crunch of the cracker, the tart creamy goat cheese, and the sweet juicy grapes.

I continue to enjoy my cup of RYZE in the morning. I’ve been playing with it…a little more sweetener, a little more milk, and my latest addition…my home brewed vanilla extract. I think I have it down to the perfect balance. I sat outside yesterday morning under the cover of an awning, watching a gentle rain fall. The birds are outrageous right now. They make a racket starting before the sun comes up.

Mr. FixIt is going over to help the soon-to-be newlyweds put a new roof on their house. So, I’ll work on the binding on the quilt while he is gone. I’m also planning out the summer trip to Colorado. We still haven’t figured out if we are going to take the camper or not. We need to get those plans in place this week.

I hope you enjoy a blessed Sunday!

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.”

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 NIV

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No ads on Sunday on the Lord’s Day. Be blessed!

Marriage Advice and the Wisdom of Age

Sun, 07 May 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Goodnight, moon…shine on!

What a perfect day for a bridal shower. Our oldest granddaughter…one of my bonus grandkids…is getting married in June and yesterday was her bridal shower at her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s lovely home. First, let me say, their house is exactly six blocks up the street from Mom’s house where I grew up. The difference between our humble, but altogether reasonable, home and this abode was night and day. When I was a kid, I used to pick daisies in the field where this house is.

I arrived precisely at 12:00 and there were already quite a number of people there. Some I knew…some I did not…but introductions were made and thank goodness there wasn’t a test after. I’m awful with names! When they guided me to the room where the action was, my jaw dropped. I’m telling you…we could have been having lunch in a country club! All the furniture had been moved and five big round tables were set with white chairs all around. The decorations would make any event planner proud. Our granddaughter chose a pink floral theme with big puffy peonies and other soft, yummy flowers. There was a mimosa bar and the finger foods were perfect. We watched her open her gifts and everyone oohed and ahhed.

There were game cards at each place setting. The last card in the stack was blank and asked for marriage advice. My first response…in my head, of course…was, ”What? You’re asking ME for marriage advice? I’m on my fourth husband!” But then I stopped that negative selftalk and changed it to…I’ve had a TON of experience in this department! So, in that vein, here is what I wrote.

“Marriage isn’t 50/50…it’s 100/100. You each need to go all in to make a marriage work. There will be times when one or the other of you will be out of sorts and someone will have to pick up the slack. But don’t worry…their turn will come and they’ll be the one carrying a little more. And, when the tough times come…and they WILL come…stop and look at your spouse and say to yourself, “I choose to love him/her.” Do this repeatedly. It will soften your heart and may keep you from saying something out of anger that you’ll regret later.”

If I would have learned this at an earlier age…well, you know. I can’t help but think it would have saved me a lot of grief. We can’t control anyone or anything. But we CAN learn to control our reactions. It’s like I told my daughters when I was raising them…we cannot live long enough to make ALL the mistakes, so please do yourself a favor and learn from the mistakes of others.

I’ll be 70 in a little over a month. I love being this age! Seriously. I have more insight and compassion than at any other age. My bulls*** meter can read game from a mile away. I can speak from my heart without apologizing for taking up too much space in the room. I love this age!

My bonus daughter called me last night while I was writing this. She asked me if I was feeling ok at the shower. I told her I was perfectly fine…why? She said I seemed subdued and she wanted to make sure I was ok. I smiled because I understood what she was sensing. I am a bonus grandma to the bride to be. I wasn’t there through the formative years. I didn’t hold her in my arms as my very first grandchild. I didn’t bounce her on my knee or push her on a swing or kiss her booboos. I didn’t get school photos every year or go to her sporting events and graduations. Those memories are her grandma’s…the former Mrs. FixIt. This was HER time to shine and be in the spotlight. I love these girls as my own, but my place was to attend with love and joy and watch the beautiful interactions play out in front of me. I don’t need to be the center of attention.

When the bride-to-be was opening her gifts, it came time to open her grandma’s. It was a beautiful cross-stitched wedding blessing, matted and framed. Oh, y’all…I wish you could have seen her grandma beaming. It was glorious to watch that bond between grandmother and her first grandchild…now all grown up and getting married. It took the former Mrs. FixIt three years to cross-stitch that beautiful gift. As I looked on, I was SO relieved that the quilt I made wasn’t back from the quilter! I wouldn’t have wanted to take one second of that joy away from them. This is what Jesus commanded us to do. To treat others as we would want to be treated.

It was a perfect day…all the way around. After I got home and changed, I gathered some things together and came out to The Farm for a few days to work on the shop. The internet works really well here. And besides…I needed a little farm fix.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.”
James 1:5-8 NIV

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In a world where you can be anything…be kind!

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Ten Years Gone

Sun, 12 Mar 2023 01:30:00 -0600

He was quite a guy.

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken.”
Psalm 34:17-20 ESV

Ain’t it Good to be Back Home?

Thu, 09 Feb 2023 02:30:00 -0600

The View out Grandma’s Window

Before I say anything else, I want to thank you all for your wonderful, supportive comments yesterday about my dilemma and what I should do with my brother as he ages. Your words meant so much to me it brought tears to my eyes. I know others who have blogs and I swear…I can’t imagine they have readers as kind and supportive as you all! Thank you from the bottom of my heart…you really made me feel better.

I stayed that extra night at the farm so I could hear the rain on the tin roof. It goes right through me to the depths of my spirit and soothes me. I fiddled around for a while yesterday morning then finally got things put together and headed home. We have had some beautiful sunny days the last week or two. I didn’t get home till 2:00…too late to start painting. We did get a few chores done. We took the big ceiling vent out where the old whole house exhaust fan lives. Mr. FixIt wanted to paint it. It was quite the chore for the two of us, but it wasn’t heavy…just awkward. Of course, now we have a huge gaping hole up to the attic and I’m praying there aren’t any critters up there that want to make their presence known!

It’s supposed to get up to nearly 70° today! It’ll be a lovely day to start painting because we can open the windows. Hopefully we can knock this job out in a relatively short time because I have lots of work to do on this project and I need to get back to the wedding quilt in a hurry. June will be here before we know it!

We are coming up to the tenth anniversary of Mr. Virgo’s death soon. I never dreamed I’d survive that, let alone make it ten years! There’s something I’ve put off all these ten years and I cannot put it off any longer. I’ve never put a monument on Mr. Virgo’s grave. I know, it’s shameful. But it was all so…final. It’s the “last thing” and I just didn’t want to face it. I pushed it to the back burner, but it just seems right to do it now. The trouble is, I can’t put my finger on some of the paperwork, so it’s something else that’s been added to the very long list of things I’m working on. At least it’s in the process now.

This is another one of those things I’m telling myself not to feel guilty about. Everyone’s grief is different and there isn’t a set schedule for when these things have to be completed. Did any of you put those kinds of things off?

““Is there anyone here who, planning to build a new house, doesn’t first sit down and figure the cost so you’ll know if you can complete it? If you only get the foundation laid and then run out of money, you’re going to look pretty foolish. Everyone passing by will poke fun at you: ‘He started something he couldn’t finish.’”
Luke 14:28-30 MSG

Earthly Love Isn’t Perfect

Mon, 06 Feb 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Love is grand, isn’t it? We meet someone and something stirs within us. Our curiosity is piqued. We dance around each other…no different than the mating rituals of exotic birds. Feathers fluffed strutting our stuff. We go through a pretty standard procedure of “Here’s who I am…now who are you?” Somewhere in the process, we either let go and move on or we hang on for the ride of our lives.

It’s all so perfect when it’s new and you think that no two people could be more perfectly matched. Love is designed that way. If you approached it like a job interview or an investment strategy, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun now, would it? We love to be in love. The thrill of the chase and the triumphant march of the conqueror is as addictive as any street drug.

Then…real life hits the fan. He snores. She can’t cook a lick. They may decide to make babies. Or maybe the decision was made for them. Or maybe they don’t. The point being…you’d better have a good, strong foundation if you expect this grand romance to last when the shine is off the bumper.

A lot of young people don’t make it very far in marriage. My first was fairly short. Long enough to give me my beautiful firstborn. The second lasted a whole lot longer…two decades actually. I thought it was the one for the long haul but it turned out not to be. My prize from that marriage was quirky, perky baby girl. Then Mr. Virgo came along. We were “perfect” together. We never fought. We never even raised our voices to one another. We never got to the point where it was necessary because he just up and died on me.

Looking back now, I can clearly see the mistakes I’ve made along the way. So, when Mr. FixIt and I crossed paths after knowing each other since 1968, we’d both had a lot of the rough edges worn off. We became a soft landing place for each other. And we found something special. A playmate. A lover. A confidant. A best friend. A partner in everything from inside jokes to planning major purchases and running this business of life.

Putting the label of “perfect” on a marriage is a dangerous thing…especially in the age of social media comparisons. What IS perfect, anyway? Is it The Waltons? Leave it to Beaver? When Harry Met Sally or Sleepless in Seattle? Marriage isn’t Hollywood. You have to take the bitter with the sweet, just like anything else in life.

Something remarkable happened to me a couple of months ago. I was having trouble sleeping and it was affecting every area of my life…from my memory to my bodily functions to my mood. The longer it went on, the worse it got and I was frustrated. Angry. Scared. When you’re going through rough patches, the first person you take it out on is the closest person at hand. And that person was my infinitely patient, ever so kind and gentle husband.

I could see the hurt behind his eyes when I lashed out and it broke my heart. I hated myself for it. I’ve been in a place before when things got dark. Depression is the next stop on the angry train and I wasn’t about to go there again. I especially didn’t want to take my sweetheart on that ride.

One evening I was searching through my old photos and came across the sweetest picture of Mr. FixIt. He was gazing into the camera with such deep love it twisted my heart and made me yearn for those early months of our relationship. So I talked to my doctor about what was bothering me and it turned out I was terribly sleep deprived.

We’ve made adjustments and I started taking a medicine I used a long time ago that helps me sleep and is not habit forming. Trazodone is also a mild antidepressant. Now I’m getting 6-8 hours of sleep a night, my mood is much better, my memory has improved, my anxiety is reduced, and Mr. FixIt is the beneficiary of all of the above. Two months ago, I couldn’t have dreamed of attempting this big project I’m working on. I didn’t have the bandwidth or the energy. And now? Now I’m cruising along, firing on all cylinders again. And Mr. FixIt and me? Well, were back on track and have much more fun.

Too many people call it quits when they hit a bump in the road because they think a marriage has to be perfect. It doesn’t. It has to be REAL. And it really helps when you can put some fun in the mix. We may not be perfect…but we’re perfect for each other and that’s what matters most.

Here’s my advice…when you have one nerve left and your spouse is standing on it, find a picture where there’s love in their eyes and go where that leads you. You can’t change them…but you can change how you react to them. Then ask yourself this one question… Which is more important? Being right…or being happy? You aren’t going to change each other. Just as the way to God is not easy, neither is the path toward marital fulfillment. It does take effort and due diligence. But the rewards are unimaginable.

““Don’t look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don’t fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way to life—to God!—is vigorous and requires total attention.”
Matthew 7:13-14 MSG

#Marriage, #Happiness, #Effort

The Matriarch is Gone

Tue, 24 Jan 2023 02:30:00 -0600

I received the call yesterday and my Auntie Rosie has gone to God. She was in terrible pain after breaking her arm. They couldn’t do surgery because of her mental status and every time you touched her…well, you get the drift. She was under palliative care the last eight days so she slipped away in her sleep. A peaceful transition is the best one could ever ask for.

Today is the “angelversary” of my mom’s passing. The last time I went to see my aunt, I stopped in my tracks as I walked in the door. She was the spitting image of my mom and it was startling. When Mom died on this day in 2004, I called my Auntie Rosie in Las Vegas. We tried to get her a flight through Colorado so we could be on the same plane from there on, but the best we could do at such short notice was to meet in Charlotte and travel the rest of the way together.

When we arrived in Charleston, WV we rented a car and headed to the farm. There was only one place to sleep and that was in a full size bed in the “girls’ room”. We lay there most of the night listening to the Asian Ladybeetles tip-tapping on the ceiling. We were afraid to go to sleep for fear our mouths would gape open and we’d turn into bug catchers! We stayed in town at Mom’s house after that.

When I was growing up, I never thought much about becoming the matriarch of the family. That was for the “elders”. And now…WE are the elders! I always knew I’d get older, but I just didn’t realize it would be so darned fast! I saw a quote by David Crosby of Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young. “Don’t waste the time. Time is the final currency, man. Not money, not power…it’s time.” I’m determined I’m not going to waste a bit of what I have left. I won’t be laying on my death bed wishing I’d watched more TV.

A had a productive day in my studio yesterday. I got a lot of things done. I did some housekeeping, fixed our supper, connected with family, did some laundry. The laundry is downstairs near my studio so I can throw a few loads in while I’m working. I brought the small electric space heater in from the camper. I placed it under the desk and I stayed much warmer than I did with the gas stove on. And, I didn’t feel sick by the end of the day. I’ll call that a win.

We don’t have anything scheduled this week till Friday, so I expect to make a lot of progress on “The Project!”

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 MSG

Organization is NOT in My Skill Set

Wed, 18 Jan 2023 02:30:00 -0600

I’m making lists and checking them a zillion times. I’m heading down rabbit holes when I really need to be concentrating. I’m going to have to treat this project like a job and have set hours to work on it or it’s never going to happen. It’s not happening sitting in the living room in the Big Red Chair with Mr. FixIt watching TV. I have a desk set up in the basement so I can sit there and work. Then, when I’ve finished the hours I will set aside to be productive, I can work on the quilt and other fun projects. I’m determined to do this because when it’s set up, I think it’s going to be fun!

When we went into town on Monday, my Aunt Rosie was weighing heavy on my heart. That made me think of the only aunt still living on my dad’s side. Even though she and I have been estranged for many years (not my choice), the hurt in the relationship still haunts me and I wonder about her. I found out through Find-a-Grave a few years ago that her husband, my dad’s baby brother, had passed away. His listing showed his headstone and where it was located. My aunt’s name and birth year were inscribed on the joint headstone.

Since I have no connection with her now, and since they are very private people, I asked Mr. FixIt if he would mind if we go up to the cemetery to see if there was a new grave. There was not, but she has the most beautiful view from up there. She always told me she was going to be buried on top of the world, and that’s just about what it looks like. Then I remembered my in-laws from my first marriage are buried nearby, so we went off looking for them.

I have never been to their gravesite. I always thought they were buried in the cemetery by the park, but it turns out they’re at the cemetery we were in. It took some doing but we finally found them. I’ve never thought much about visiting cemeteries. I’ve done my share, but it feels different the older I get. It’s a reminder that I’ll be changing addresses at some point down the road and the directions are getting clearer.

What is it Robert Frost said in his epic poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening… “I have miles to go before I sleep.” Mr. Virgo thought he had miles to go and we know how that worked out. The thing is, there’s no guarantee this project will ever be completed. But, the pleasure is in the progress…not the destination. It’s the same with everything in life. It’s the journey. The journey is everything.

“The people of Judah came to Joshua at Gilgal. Caleb son of Jephunneh the Kenizzite spoke: “You’ll remember what God said to Moses the man of God concerning you and me back at Kadesh Barnea. I was forty years old when Moses the servant of God sent me from Kadesh Barnea to spy out the land. And I brought back an honest and accurate report. My companions who went with me discouraged the people, but I stuck to my guns, totally with God, my God. That was the day that Moses solemnly promised, ‘The land on which your feet have walked will be your inheritance, you and your children’s, forever. Yes, you have lived totally for God.’ Now look at me: God has kept me alive, as he promised. It is now forty-five years since God spoke this word to Moses, years in which Israel wandered in the wilderness. And here I am today, eighty-five years old! I’m as strong as I was the day Moses sent me out. I’m as strong as ever in battle, whether coming or going. So give me this hill country that God promised me. You yourself heard the report, that the Anakim were there with their great fortress cities. If God goes with me, I will drive them out, just as God said.””
Joshua 14:6-12 MSG

What Doctor’s Appointment?

Tue, 17 Jan 2023 02:30:00 -0600

I had just turned six and My Auntie Rosie brought Cathy from Chicago to meet us!

We got up and out the door to go to Mr. FixIt’s eye doctor appointment in plenty of time. When we got there, the doors were locked. Martin Luther King Day? Did we miss something? We checked our calendars again and we both had the same day and time. Mr. FixIt called the doctor’s office and the gal who answered said they called us in November to change the appointment to next month. Neither of us remember getting that call, so we came to town for nothing.

We didn’t let it be a wasted trip, however. We went to Sam’s and the Post Office Box. We went to visit the Former Mrs. FixIt to pick up some cookies she bought for us. Then we went to Michael’s. I’ve seen a new art medium I’m dying to try…Gel Plate Printing. It wasn’t very expensive to get a few supplies and I’ll give it a try. I’ll tell you more about it when I get set up. There are a few things I simply must finish first.

We stopped at Der Dog Haus for a little early supper before we headed home.

My cousin called last evening to give me an update. My sweet Auntie Rosie is in the final days of her life’s journey. She’s now in hospice care so it’s just a matter of time. My mom’s last sister. *sigh* But, what a homecoming she’s going to have! She gets to see my Grandma and PopPop and my mom soon. But most importantly, she gets to meet Jesus face to face! And someday we’ll ALL be together again! We are planning a gathering here in WV to spread some of her ashes with her parents and siblings. We’ll spread some at the farm where she grew up. And we’ll get the cousins together for some love. That will be good for all of us.

The last time I visited with my aunt, she told me when she was old and frail, she didn’t want me to come see her. She wanted me to remember her like she used to be…with vim and vigor. We talked on the phone regularly and we always had stories to share. We laughed and we cried. I am so happy I sent her a copy of the memory book I created after the farm sold so she had all the special old photos and stories. She cherished that and it warms my heart.

Letting go of our elders is sad. With my aunt’s passing…I will become the matriarch of our family. That is sobering. It seems impossible. There’s a lot that’s going to be packed into the next week…and in my next birthday…my 70th. I’m not necessarily sorrowful. I’m introspective and somber. That is normal.

And now…a Bible verse for my bold and brassy Aunt Rosie…travel peacefully, dear one.

“God and Jesus and angels all back me up in these instructions…..And don’t worry too much about what the critics will say. Go ahead and drink a little wine, for instance; it’s good for your digestion, good medicine for what ails you.”
1 Timothy 5:21-23 MSG

The Power of Being Older

Mon, 12 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Deer in the headlights. Photo Credit: scienceabc.com

We didn’t do much yesterday. Watched some football together. Mr. FixIt baked a big batch of Peanut Butter Blossoms. Then around 5:00, we drove to town to get something to eat and go to Ollie’s…a bargain outlet in town that was having a 25% off sale on Christmas and toys for members. As we drove by, the sale had just started and the parking lot was crazy busy, so we decided to run across town to Rural King. We needed bird seed, cat food, and kitty litter. We figured we would hit the sale on our way back through town.

When we got there, the parking lot was just as full, if not worse, and I begged Mr. FixIt to bag it and go home. But the allure of a good sale is something that’s hard to fight. Our first clue of trouble was…there were NO empty carts anywhere. He wandered the parking lot in the dark, hoping for one to no avail. When he came back in, I was standing near the front of the store talking with a friend who was leaving empty handed. She wasn’t going to stand in line for over an hour for cheap, plastic stuff from China. Smart woman!

I asked Mr. FixIt if he was ready to bag it now and he said he was going to make a circle around the store. Which was exactly where the checkout line was…ALL the way around the store. He was gone about five minutes when he came back and agreed it just wasn’t worth it to fight all this. He’s gone to this sale before, but later in the evening when the crowds were thinned out. Of course, by that time, everything is picked over so I’m not sure what kind of “quality items” would be left by that time.

We finished chatting with my friend Stacey then headed home. I’ve told you before, we live about 20 miles from town out a curvy two-lane blacktop. It’s really dark and lonely out those roads, but you still get the occasional oncoming car and have to dim your headlights. I’m really bad about remembering to turn them back on so Mr. FixIt dutifully reminds me every time. As soon as I turned the brights back on, there was a deer alongside the road…preparing to cross in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and the squeal of the tires caused the deer to hesitate and we just narrowly missed her.

This is exactly why I do NOT like to be in town after dark at this time of year. The trip wasn’t for nought…we had dinner out at a totally empty Arby’s and we got our bird and cat supplies. But still, my heart was pounding the rest of the way home. Fortunately, the cars backed up behind me seemed to be fine with the slower speed and we didn’t see another deer near the road.

Remember when I told you about going off coffee and my stomach pain that I’ve been fighting for years totally went away? Well, I though maybe it was because I switched to decaf tea, so last Friday I had one cup of decaf coffee and was absolutely miserable all weekend with cramping. This is very sad, because I LOVE coffee. But I love feeling better more. It didn’t decrease at all over the weekend. As a matter of fact, it’s gotten worse.

If any of you suffer with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), you can relate to how uncomfortable it is. This is my worst time of year for symptoms because they are triggered by rich fatty foods and chocolate, among other things. And what do I do at this time of year? I eat all the bad things. Now, there have been years I’ve skated by without much of a problem. But stress is a huge kicker and tomorrow marks a year since my dear friend Sparky died. I am not afraid to tell you…it’s been hitting me especially hard. I’ll cut out the triggers and meditate extra and pray and increase my exercise and I’m sure it will straighten up soon. If not, I’ll go see my PCP this week. Ugh…not what I need during the holidays.

I was supposed to visit my friend Richard today, but I took a rain check. I am just going to take it easy for the next few days. I’ll order the little one’s Christmas presents online and call it good! Working on the wedding quilt will help my mental as well as physical health. There is power in being older…we know for sure when to say enough is enough.

“Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad.”
Proverbs 12:25 ESV

Go With the Flow

Fri, 02 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I used to think that “go with the flow” meant to be flexible…to have the ability to change on a dime and head in a different direction. That’s part of it, to be sure. But, I think it’s much more than just adapting to change. I think there is a current in life. A current of energies. Light and dark. And, I think we can plug into one or the other cognitively…purposefully.

When I am in tune with God’s will, I’m surfing the flow of light energy. It’s where enlightenment lives. It’s where intuition is like a gong being struck by the mighty hammer of the Holy Spirit. He doesn’t always show up in whispers. Sometimes He knocks you up the side of the head to get your attention and speaks in a loud voice.

I can always tell when I’m even two degrees off course. I get foggy, lazy…tempted. Tempted to overeat, oversleep, overspend. It’s not a good direction to take and I know from past experience, it doesn’t lead anywhere I am interested in going. So, I make corrections in my path. I put God first and foremost in front of me and keep Him in the center of everything.

I know when I am in “The Flow.” It’s when things are easier…lighter. It just feels like there’s a higher energy to everything. When it’s there and unmistakable, it’s a high like no other. However, what happens when you feel like you aren’t going in the direction you need to go and you can’t seem to change course? Those are really difficult times to go through and it’s easy to get down on yourself.

I’ve learned a lot of lessons in my nearly seventy years. Probably the most important lesson I’ve ever learned is to show myself some compassion. We are often quick to offer compassion and empathy to others when they are struggling, but we hang ourselves out to dry on a regular basis. We can be so mean and ugly to ourselves when we aren’t getting it right.

It really helps to know NO ONE gets it right. Oh, we can have fleeting episodes of what feels like greatness, but sustained “rightness” is next to impossible to attain. Showing some gentle compassion and forgiveness is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. To say, “I may have botched this one up, but that’s ok. Everyone messes up at one time or another and this just wasn’t my day. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

That’s an honorable way to live. To admit we aren’t perfect and neither is anyone else. When we can humbly admit our own faults, it allows us to take the log out of our own eye in order to help our neighbors with the speck in theirs. I think a lot of people have become confused. They’ve been convinced that their way is the ONLY way and that if others do not live their way, or believe their way, or look their way then they’re wrong. Bad. Evil.

This kind of thinking is separating us and I truly believe it has been done by design. There are foreign powers who are taking an entirely different approach to war. They’ve discovered how to create an environment of infighting that is creating havoc in the world. Intentionally. They know…without a shadow of a doubt…that divided we will fall and they don’t have to fire a shot to defeat us.

The enemy comes in myriad forms and he wants nothing more that to create chaos and hatred toward our fellow man. Then he sits back and laughs and watches us implode. We can change the world by changing our little corner of it. We can get back into the flow of goodness and light and beat back the darkness that threatens to overpower us. We just have to have the right ammunition. And what is that ammo, you ask?

Love.

The Bible tells us to love our enemies. It tells us to judge not lest we be judged. It says we need to love others as we love ourselves. Always, always, always it says to love. LOVE. Even when you don’t want to. Even when it seems impossible to. When I was going through a terribly painful divorce, I spent an inordinate amount of time sending daggers towards Hubby #2. I had hate in my heart and anger. SO much anger.

In the Netflix documentary, Stutz, Jonah Hill’s therapist tells him to close his eyes and picture the entire expanse of the universe filled to the brim with nothing but love. Love everywhere…in every space…in every thought. Start gathering every bit of that love and shoving it deep in your heart till it’s bursting at the seams. Then, concentrate on your “enemy” and shoot every ounce of that love straight into the heart of the one you’re hating on.

I practiced this when I got tired of getting sick from the poison I was trying to send to my ex. I started praying deeply and fervently for him. My prayers changed from “Lord, remove this burden of hate from me” to “Lord, I’m sending every ounce of love I have to this man. Please fill him with love and success and health and good fortune. Let him be happy….truly, truly happy.”

The results weren’t instantaneous. But before long, things started happening. I didn’t feel hatred toward him anymore. I felt compassion. I found I was the one becoming happy. And I found myself back to being in the flow with a current of light and positivity. We have to make course corrections all the time in this life. That’s how we grow and evolve. And without that, we cannot move forward and heal and neither will anyone else.

In order to heal others, we have to heal ourselves.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones.”
Proverbs 3:5-8 ESV

Communication

Mon, 14 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve been monitoring my social media usage the last few weeks. With the lead up to the election, I found my stress level rising. Add the new roof and trying to get the a-frame camper back from the shop and getting everything buttoned up for winter and my stress alarms were bing-bonging all over the place.

I have to say, during the last couple of elections, I let my better angels take a back seat and opened my mouth in ways and at times I shouldn’t have. It cost me friendships that I held dear and I’m saddened by that. I know it cost me readers and I’m sure glad you stuck it out with me. Going into the midterms, I made a concerted effort to keep away from the third rail and it made my life much easier.

I always told my girls, “You cannot possibly live long enough to make every mistake out there, so try to learn from the mistakes of others.” I’ve been watching a major social media outlet as it crashes and burns. Its CEO has been lashing out and generally making an a$$ of himself and wondering why it’s all falling apart. And, while that’s been happening, I’ve witnessed people saying things that leave me shaking my head and wondering…did they kiss their mama with that mouth?

I’ve been following Susan David, Ph.D. (@SusanDavid_PhD) on Twitter for some time. She wrote the #1 Wall Street Journal Bestseller…Emotional Agility. I have not read the book yet as I still have difficulty concentrating on reading. Dr. David is a Psychologist at Harvard, and a TED Speaker. Her tweets are little mini counseling sessions where she gives you something to ponder.

I was scrolling my Twitter feed yesterday morning when her tweet showed up.

“You may be right…but is your response serving you?”

That one stopped me in my tracks and really made me think. That’s something we can use in just about any scenario. The first thing I thought of when I read that was, “Do I have to correct my husband every single time he makes a mistake?” I don’t…but I feel like I do that way too often. And Dr. David is absolutely correct. I may be right…but does it serve me? And the answer is no.

We’ve all seen the hurt behind the eyes of someone we love when we make a cutting remark out of frustration or anger or exhaustion. I hate that. I want to keep those longing looks I used to get when he thought I walked on water. Ok…we can’t do that either. Real life kicks in at some point and two independent adults living in close quarters are bound to bump heads at one time or another.

I remember when Mr. Virgo was alive. We never had an argument. About anything. At the time, I thought that was marital bliss. Since then I’ve learned, that was anger suppression. We probably should have argued…or at least expressed our displeasure when we felt it. And I don’t think we did that. He passed away before any real damage was done from that suppression so I’ll never know how it would have played out in our relationship. But I have an idea it wouldn’t have gone well.

Mr. FixIt and I have no problem laying things out on the table. We don’t fight, but we have spirited conversations from time to time. We’ve walked away and gone to our corners to cool off then come back together and speak more rationally. This is different than any relationship I’ve ever had and I think it’s because we’re older, more mature, and just too tired to make a big deal of crap that’s not important.

It’s funny the things we thought were such a big deal in our thirties and forties just…aren’t anymore. I wish I would have known this when I was younger. I could have saved myself a lot of angst. I didn’t have a very healthy role model in my parents’ relationship to learn how to BE in one of my own. I, like most people, learned from trial and error. Like Maya Angelou said, “We do what we know and when we know better, we do better.”

At least…that’s the goal.

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 ESV

Still Plugging Along!

Thu, 10 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

We had a heavy frost on yesterday morning so it was a bit of a late start. Which is ok from the labor standpoint. Everyone is working so hard…especially Mr. FixIt Jr. I know he is a chip off the old block because his dad is a really hard worker and has been all his life. His body is just pretty beaten up and his balance is off since the strokes. He just can’t get on a roof anymore. But that didn’t keep him from working hard in every other way from the ground.

You can see clear through the house!

Mr. FixIt and I took the trailer yesterday morning to pick up the shingle hoist from the rental place. It’s like an extension ladder with a motor and cable system. There’s a flat tray that you lay the shingles on and it works on a pulley system to lift it up to roof level. It’s really cool! We needed to get the wood repairs finished before that could start.

Mr. FixIt Jr. threw down the pieces that needed replaced and his dad and I used them for templates to cut out new wood. They got the long support strut out that needed replaced and the 2x4 we bought was about two feet short. I ran to our little town hardware store to buy an 8’ board and they soon had a piece spliced on the end and it fit in the spot seamlessly.

Pinto beans and cornbread. I crumble my cornbread into the bottom of the bowl, add a couple scoops of piping hot beans, top with a generous heaping spoonful of diced onions and a big squirt of spicy brown mustard. I add a dash of finely ground chipotle pepper for a little kick. This is stick to your ribs, Appalachian comfort food right here. Love in a bowl!

The former Mrs. FixIt sent over a pot of pinto beans and corn bread so I didn’t have to cook. She is so thoughtful that way. I went in to heat up some supper for us while they finished replacing the damaged wood. We took a break and sat in the warm sun for a little bit. Our daughter-in-law came after she got off work to help.

As they were getting started hoisting the shingles up, we pulled the roll of tarpaper out to start precutting the strips to staple on the wood surface. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a miscalculation and we needed two more rolls of tarpaper. I elected to run to town real quick to the big box hardware store and got back as fast as I could. In the time I was gone, they got all the shingles up to the roof and used up the one roll of paper.

Our daughter-in-law and I rolled the paper out on our back sidewalk, measuring the length by chalk lines on the cement. We cut the rest of the strips, rolled them up individually, and she carried them up the ladder to the roof. We kept busy refilling the staple hammer with staples and sending it up the ladder. And right at dark, all the tarpaper was in place and stapled down.

We gathered all the tools and covered them with a drop cloth. We got the shingle hoist taken apart and put it in the trailer to return today. Then we sat and visited for just a little bit before we sent the kids home with the all familiar farewell...

“Watch for deer!”

That’s West Virginian for…I love you!

“Do all things without grumbling or disputing,”
Philippians 2:14 ESV

Not What I Wanted to Wake Up To

Sat, 22 Oct 2022 01:30:00 -0600

I’ve been practicing the military method of falling asleep. And…so far, so good! I’ve been falling asleep quickly, and staying asleep all night and it’s been amazing. Yeah, ok…it’s been less than a week, but I have hope. I’ve never been a great sleeper. I have had trouble turning my brain off at night. This sleep technique that the Army teaches their recruits claims to bring the Sand Man in less that two minutes and I’m just going to believe that and run with it!

I woke up yesterday morning…the sun was up, Mr. FixIt was softly snoring beside me, and I felt wonderful! I reached for my phone and found a series of puzzling messages on my Lock Screen. They were from the fraud prevention at my bank. It seems someone in Australia tried to put a $1200+ charge through…under five different names. Thank GOD there are these fraud protections in place now!

A couple of months ago, I purchased a vintage apple peeler off the internet. There were a couple of red flags, but I REALLY wanted that particular peeler. So I hit “valid” when they asked if it was actually me behind the card. Then, I waited. And waited. And waited some more. I kept going back to the website where I purchased the peeler and it said “In process.” The little red flags were turning into big red banners in my brain and I called my bank.

My only option was to freeze my debit card permanently and have the bank issue me another one. Or, give it a little more time since it was coming from out of the country. (Yes…that was the red flag I chose to ignore because…I REALLY wanted that peeler!) We decided to give it a little more time, but when it came down to the cutoff for a fraud claim, I told the bank to file it. I still didn’t elect to get a new card. ALL my bills are handled electronically…by that card. What a pain in the rear. The bank said they would clamp down the security on my card an alert me at the first questionable transaction.

And, that they did. At 4:00 yesterday morning. I hate to have to go through this mess, but honestly…as often as I use that card on the internet, I’m shocked it hasn’t happened more often. I love my bank in Colorado. They’ve been my “hometown bank” since 1986 and I kept my accounts with them even after moving to West Virginia. They always help me out and alert me to any kind of problem. And, my debit card has a painting on it by my friend Mary Noone who passed away recently. That card makes me smile every time I see it.

We are binge watching Grace and Frankie and even though there’s quite a bit of irreverent material in it, we really get a kick out of it. Especially since the main actors are “seventy-somethings” and are so relatable. Robert had a heart attack. Sol has retired and become an activist. Grace had a knee replacement and Frankie had a TIA. They are vibrant and yet they struggle with their memory, their physical limitations, and navigating the specter of aging in place vs. a “retirement community”.

Mr. FixIt and I face some of the same things with our health and memory and the house becoming a lot more work as we age. We hate it and we fight it and we figure it all out together. For now, that’s fine. But there will come a time…down the road…hopefully, WAY down the road. How did we get to be seventy? We don’t FEEL seventy…and we certainly don’t ACT seventy. We’re brave and profess age as “just a number”.

I’m going to have to reach back to a few years ago when I wrote a lot about “positive aging”. More movement. Improved diet. Better sleep hygiene. Mental stimulus. Time to get back to basics and stay healthy as long as we can.

“no weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed, and you shall refute every tongue that rises against you in judgment. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord and their vindication from me, declares the Lord.””
Isaiah 54:17 ESV

The Great Spangled Fritillary and Happy Anniversary!

Thu, 13 Oct 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Wow, was yesterday crazy busy! I’m trying to use up the food out in the camper…the lazy way. Rather than pack it all up, carry it inside, and put it all away…I’m bringing my sweetheart out to the camper every morning for a little dining “al fresco”. So far it’s been great! We’ve been eating up the croissant breakfast sandwiches and tea. We’re going to have to have bacon and blueberry pancakes soon. Maybe we’ll do that today for our anniversary! Four years…can you believe it???

Back to yesterday. Once breakfast was done, we hit the ground running. Mr. FixIt dug up all the elephant ear bulbs on Monday and let them dry in the sun for a day. Then he trimmed back the stringy roots on them and tucked them in a bin lined with a plastic bag. He didn’t close the bag or anything. They need to get air but remain cool, dark, and dry till spring.

Once that was done, we took the cover off the pergola for the winter. I put the cushions away in the building and stacked the chairs. Once we get a couple of boards replaced on the pool deck, we can lash down the deck furniture to keep things from blowing around out there in case we have bad storms.

Next up was cutting up the maple tree we took down yesterday. I swear…I’ve used a monster sized chainsaw in my life. We used to cut our own wood. Maybe it was because Mr. FixIt was watching me carefully to make sure I didn’t get hurt, but I was all thumbs. I got the chain caught twice…once really bad when the tree trunk rolled over on the chain bar. Mr. FixIt said a bad word. I don’t blame him…I might have said a few myself!

Once we regained our zen and I found the rhythm, things moved along just fine. We piled the limbs in the back of Mr. FixIt’s pickup and made two trips over to the burn pile. We are going to have one heck of a bonfire one of these days! We cleaned up our work area and I ran the riding mower over the fallen leaves to mulch them up. Then we carried the two tubs of elephant ear bulbs down to the basement.

In the middle of all that, we stopped for a break and I made some broccoli cheese soup…sans biscuits. I didn’t have it in me to bake, too. The soup was wonderful and there’s enough leftover to have more today. We are supposed to get rain all day today so I am hoping to have a quiet “inside day” with my sweetheart. We’ve just been go-go-going for what seems like all year. We still have so much to do before it gets really cold in a few days.

I went out to the camper to get something yesterday afternoon and there was a Great Spangled Fritillary butterfly sitting on the arm of my chair. It was flexing its wings and they looked odd. I think the back pair are malformed or under-developed. If you look at it compared to one on Google images, it’s really apparent. I never did see if it could fly…I had work to do. I hope it went on it’s way. This is why I want to turn part of our fields into native habitat for the flora and fauna to live the way they’re supposed to.

???

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,”
Colossians 3:23 ESV

Working Without a Schedule

Wed, 07 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Green Chili. Forgive the mess in my kitchen. Things get out of hand quickly when I can.

I rarely work with an itinerary. I usually have a vague idea of what I’d like to accomplish the following day, but I’m always really flexible in case something comes up that needs my attention more than what I intended. That’s what happened yesterday.

I got up early and finished piecing the last row of blocks, then I laid them all out on the floor and played mix and match till I got the look I was going for. I noticed a couple of the blocs are much smaller than the others and I could have sewn the seamed a little wider than a quarter inch. I’ll have to give them a closer look and either rip them apart and resew them, or start from scratch. It’s a good thing I have extra ten inch squares to work with.

By the time I got them all arranged, it was 2:00 and I had other things that needed doing. I wanted to can the green chili that I made on Sunday so it will last on the shelf all winter. I had a lot of the pork roast left over so I put another slow cooker full of green chili on to simmer while I loaded up the canner with what was already made. As soon as that canner was running, I started on the pinto beans I bought a couple of weeks ago.

I’ve been watching canning videos and there are women who can their dry beans so they’re ready at a moment’s notice for a winter meal. I made up twenty pints of beans and put them in my big canner. As I’m writing this, I’m sitting at the bar in the kitchen, babysitting the canner to make sure it gets to the proper pressure and stays there for a full seventy-five minutes. Before long, I will fill another canner with the second batch of green chili. I may be at this for a while.

I chatted with Daughter #2 and her wife yesterday morning while I was sitting at the sewing machine. She is a tattoo aficionado. When she saw my face, she was alarmed. “Mama! What’s going on with your face?!” I explained I was doing what she asked me to do…treat the dangerous skin cells. I also told her it felt like battery acid on my face. She suggested I put Aquaphor ointment on the inflamed skin to soothe it. I put some on and it felt better almost immediately. I will never go outdoors again without slathering on sunscreen.

I recently received a jury summons but the trial is scheduled for Monday. I already had something planned and paid for so I asked if I could be excused. I hadn’t heard back so I called yesterday. Turns out, I have been excused so one less thing on my plate. I have been summoned for jury duty many times over the years. A few times I actually went in and either was dismissed after questioning, or a last minute plea deal was accepted. I’ve served on a jury once. I believe in fulfilling my civic duties. But I’ve never been called since Mr. Virgo died. I don’t know how I would do with medical subjects or graphic photos. My PTSD kicks in just thinking of serving. I mean, I will if I have to. In our county, we can request to be excused for any jury duty once we hit seventy years of age. My memory isn’t what it used to be, and I have trouble hearing and following along sometimes. I certainly would hate to affect a trial negatively because of that. I have nine more months before my next birthday. We’ll see what happens.

I’m not sure I’m going to push myself to get this quilt top finished this week. I want to be sure I do my best work and rushing won’t achieve the results I am looking for. This is a relatively new behavior for me. There was a time when I would push my way through something till I’m pulling my hair out. I don’t want to do that anymore. If I don’t enjoy an activity, I’m not interested. I think I’ll set it aside and pick it up next week. In the meantime, we’re chasing down an electrical problem in Louisa the Lincoln, the lawn at the farm needs mowing again, and the pump needs to be primed. Perhaps today will be the day for these chores.

““Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
Matthew 6:25 ESV

The Highs and Lows of a Day

Sat, 03 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

I woke up super early yesterday and decided to whip up a batch of biscuits. I made my coffee and took two piping hot biscuits with butter and homemade jams and headed for the pool deck to watch the morning sun come over the hill. I brought you along on a FB Live if you want to catch it. You can see the morning fog in the trees. It was delightful, even though the dew was dripping on me from the pergola.

Mr. FixIt was still snoozing so I went downstairs and started sewing on the quilt. Things were going great for a couple of hours but then I started feeling really hot and within moments I was sick. I seem to have become sensitive to my morning coffee which is a real bummer as I am a coffee hound. I have been burning the candle at both ends this week and haven’t slept well so went back to bed and slept till 2:00 in the afternoon. When I got up, I felt much better.

I took some 7UP and soda crackers, just in case, and went back down to the sewing nook and got several blocks put together. I had to stop and rip some seams out of the first three because I didn’t put them together quite right. I ended up hanging the first block on the fabric board behind my sewing machine as a guide. Once I did that, I didn’t have a problem putting them together correctly.

Around 4:30, Mr. FixIt came down and asked if I could help with a project. A couple of years ago, we finished remodeling the bathroom off the master bedroom. This summer, it has sprung a leak around the exhaust pipe. It did that once before and Mr. FixIt got up there and nailed the rubber gasket down around it and that fixed the small leak. But this week, it started leaking with a vengeance.

The Offending Leak

Now, you know my sweetheart had a couple of small strokes in 2020 and his balance is forever changed by that. He does great, he works hard and he can do just about anything, but climbing up a ladder and going up on a roof is NOT happening. We have boys, but they were working yesterday and it’s supposed to rain all weekend. So…I’m the next best thing. Mr. FixIt said I may not want to do it and if I didn’t, we’d work something out. I told him I’d have a look.

Stupid Human Tricks

The first thing I did was say a prayer. A BIG prayer. Then I crossed myself for good measure…in case Mr. Virgo was watching. I know God was…and all my legion of guardian angels it takes to keep my adventurous butt safe.

The first time I climbed up the ladder, I asked if we could change the angle so the ascent would be less steep. I came down and we repositioned the ladder. The second time I climbed up, I didn’t like that there wasn’t enough ladder at the top so that I’d feel more comfortable stepping onto the roof. I came back down and we extended the ladder another rung. This time I went up and, after just a few moments of hesitation and evaluating where to put my foot, etc., I stepped confidently on the roof and made my way to the offending pipe.

I had a rope tied around my waist and pulled up the battery powered caulking gun. Mr. FixIt tossed up the hammer and a bag of roofing nails. I proceeded to nail down the rubber flashing and caulked the heck out of that thing. I had rubber gloves on and I smeared the black goo into all the seams of the shingles as well as the top of the rubber gasket where it looked dry and aging. If that thing leaks now, I’d be really surprised.

I lowered the caulking gun back down over the edge and tossed the hammer after making sure Mr. FixIt and the cat were nowhere near. Mr. FixIt held on to the ladder with a death grip and, using the top of the extension, I easily held on and stepped around with my sturdy work boots. I was back down in record time. It was still pretty hot up there and the ball of my hand is red from using it to lift myself up and down. I only got a little of the black goo on me so now we’ll wait and see how it does in the rain.

The offending pipe…caulked within an inch of its life!

Mr. FixIt beamed when I came down the ladder. I know he is so proud of me when I do things like this. He thanks me profusely and tells me I do a good job. That means a lot to me. Losing Mr. Virgo so suddenly has taught me I need to know how to do things around here…anywhere, really. I’m happy to help and to push my boundaries to see what I am still capable of. I didn’t feel unsafe and the pitch of that roof is so low, it’s nearly flat. I would NEVER get up on a steep pitched roof. And hopefully, I won’t have to get back up on this one. But I know I can…at least for the time being.

I remember when my grandma broke her first hip. The doctor asked my aunt if she had ANY idea what her mother was doing at the time. My aunt allowed she did not. Turns out, grandma had tied a rope around her waist and tied the other end to a tree. She was going to have my uncle cut down the tree and she wanted to “make sure that tree didn’t go down into the creek and block it up.” Well, as luck would have it, the rope broke before the tree was felled and she hit the ground, breaking her hip. It’s a darned good thing because that tree would have whipped her down with it! So, see? I get this craziness honest!

Once I got down from the roof, I went right back down to the sewing machine and worked for another couple of hours. Like I told you the other day…Step Four on this quilt is going to be the most complicated and time consuming of them all so I just have to plug along and be happy with progress.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”
1 Corinthians 15:58 ESV

The ‘ber Months Are Here!

Thu, 01 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Hello, September!

Just because I’ve got a new, fun project in the works, doesn’t mean the grass stops growing. I worked on the quilt for a few hours yesterday and then hear the familiar “rrr-rrr-rrr” of the push mower and I knew it was time to step away from the sewing nook and get some real work done.

I no sooner did my first round, cutting the perimeter of the yard, till I ran over what I thought was a stick. Turns out it was the extension cord that didn’t get put away in a timely fashion. It’s my fault…I was the last to use it and it was buried down in the grass. It took me a few seconds to realize what I’d done when the motor seized and stalled. That’s when I knew I had succeeded in wrapping the extension cord around the mower blades. I tried to pull it out, but it was really wedged in there. So, I had to put my tail between my legs and admit to Mr. FixIt that I’d made a big boo-boo.

He came out and looked and together we decided we needed to bring the ramps over and run the front of the tractor up so we could see under the mower deck. Mr. FixIt got under there and fiddled around with the cord but couldn’t seem to make any progress with unraveling it. I asked him to let me try. I’m a mom…I’ve had a lot of experience untangling things out of little girls’ long hair. I figure this couldn’t be any harder.

Because my shoulders aren’t as wide as my handsome husband’s, I was able to wiggle in under the front of the tractor between the wheels. I held the shortest end of the cord and moved it enough to tell where the next loop was. Once I got that one unwound, it was a simple task to repeat the process till it was free and I could pull it all out from under the mower blades. At which point I was now wedged in between the wheels under a pretty hot engine. Mr. FixIt gave me a hand and pulled me out of there and we congratulated ourselves for another problem solved without spending a dime!

I went on with the mowing and got both the big fields finished just as the dew started to settle. I drove around to the side of the house and sprayed down the mower and the deck to get all the damp grass off of it and pulled into the stall in the building. I was covered with grass, but filled with the satisfaction of another good day’s work being accomplished.

I’ve broken the quilt into steps. I finished sewing sixty-four color squares to sixty-four plain linen-colored squares around all four sides on Tuesday. I had eight stacks of eight squares each. Yesterday I worked on each square, one at a time, cutting them in an “x” corner to corner, ironing each triangle open into a square shape and sewing them back together in a pinwheel pattern. I got four stacks finished, which means I have four more stacks to do today. Then I can move on to step three.

Sewing is a lot more physically taxing than knitting. Between sitting and standing, reaching and twisting, then mowing and crawling under the tractor, there were muscles in my back and shoulders I’d forgotten I had! I was so happy to get in that hot shower last night. I’ll be back at it today…mowing the other half of our five acres, working on the quilt, and who knows what else I’ll get into! We still need to get out to the farm to prime that pump and it’ll be time to mow again.

I am so grateful and blessed to have my health and I’m able to do the things I love to do around here. I feel so much better than I did before I had the parathyroid tumors removed. Even though it wasn’t pleasant, I’m really glad I did that. The only thing I’m dealing with now is a kind of “chemotherapy” for these precancerous places on my face. I use a cream called fluourouracil. I put a thin layer on one section of my face (right now I’m treating my nose, my upper lip, and one small place on my cheek. It’s the weirdest stuff. It leaves the healthy skin alone, but everywhere there’s abnormal cells turns bright red and it literally burns those bad cells away.

I have had small lesions frozen or burned off before, but this stuff is much more effective at rooting out those spots you can’t even see or feel yet. I have to keep using it for several weeks and of course, I have to be super careful to use a high SPF sunscreen while I’m being treated. This is what I get for all those years of worshiping the sun and spending time in a tanning bed. It burns like a son of a gun, but I’m looking forward to clear healthy skin when I’m finished.

“Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones.”
Proverbs 3:7-8 ESV

My End-of-Summer Walkabout

Tue, 23 Aug 2022 01:30:00 -0600

The sycamore are changing…last to leaf out…first to die.

I have never run a marathon, but I can imagine you feel pretty beat up the next day if you hadn’t properly trained for it. Now, I have no idea how to properly train for a weekend canning marathon, but I don’t figure sitting on my hiney knitting like a madwoman helped the situation. I fixed breakfast yesterday morning and went to my recliner with my coffee. I knitted for an hour while Mr. FixIt flipped through the channels then decided I’d better get busy and process the last canner full of soup.

We don’t have many pears this year because we had a couple of late freezes.

When I stood up from the recliner, I could hardly walk. My calves were tight and I swear I could hear my feet screaming. It wasn’t pretty. I pushed on and stretched a little and pretty soon I was limbered up enough to get around. I finished the canning, peeled a bag of apples, made a galette, then cleaned up the kitchen. I got another hour of knitting in before it was time to fix supper. We had one of those summer suppers…a burger patty, fresh tomato and onion slices, a dollop of cottage cheese and a small handful of chips. The house was already too hot…I didn’t need to add to it.

Apple Galette ready for the oven.

Mr. FixIt worked on the Lincoln yesterday. The housing for the headlights had condensation inside so he got in there to clean it up and seal up the seams. While he finished up, I walked around the property and took pictures. There are bright yellow, red, and orange leaves turning here and there. We have pears this year…not a ton, but a bucketful if they make it that far. It was nice to have a slowish day.

Queen Anne’s Lace

This is the last week our little yarn shop will be open so it’s our last Tuesday to get together with my new knitting friends. I’m hoping we can arrange someplace else to gather because I really enjoyed it.

The Pink Dogwood Mr. FixIt planted for me turns scarlet in the fall!

I was reminded yesterday of the passage of time. As my older daughter and her husband take Big to college to get her set up in her dorm, our little great granddaughter started Pre-K. Don’t you wish you could freeze time…just a little? Whenever I have one of those moments…those Kodak, this-doesn’t-happen-every-day moments…I make a concerted effort to soak it up. Because, I was so busy living life and raising kids that these special moments slipped by me without me realizing how special they truly were.

Elephant Ear leaf…close up.

Sitting at the corner of 70 and Forever gives you pause.

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”
Psalm 90:12 ESV

“A Time of Innocence”

Wed, 10 Aug 2022 01:30:00 -0600

“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was…a time of innocence. A time of confidences. Long ago, it must be…I have a photograph. Preserve your memories; They’re all that’s left you.”

This weekend is our 50+1 High School Reunion. Mr. FixIt and I graduated together. We were buddies during high school. We passed each other in the halls and knew a lot of the same people. The first time I laid eyes on him was on the playground in first grade. A red-headed, freckle-face little rascal who chased the girls at recess. He looked all the world like Opie Taylor.

My family moved to another school district halfway through second grade and I never gave that little red-headed boy another thought till I started tenth grade. I was in the art department and was high up on a ladder painting a backdrop when I heard someone below me clearing his throat. I looked down and that same red-headed, freckle-faced boy was looking up at me…a toothy grin on his face. He was much taller by that time and wore glasses, yet he was unmistakably the same little dude that chased the girls.

My heart smiled. “There he is” it said to me.

“And just what do you think you’re doing down there?” I asked.

With a chuckle and a wink, he pushed his reedy frame away from the pillar he was leaning on and disappeared into the shadows of stage left. He was easy to spot. He stood head and shoulders above most of our fellow students and I would call out, “Hey, Froggy!” when I saw him. It was a nickname one of his friends gave him. He hated it, as most people hate their nicknames. But he answered to it just the same.

I remember in our senior year, we were both dating someone else. It was “Color Day”…that day when seniors are excused from classes and we had a parade and played games out on the football field. I was acutely aware a change was afoot and we were all heading out into the world in different directions. I remember holding Mr. FixIt’s hands in mine, looking into those baby blues, and saying with perfect heartfelt honesty, “I’m really going to miss you!”

We didn’t see each other till our 10th Reunion. I didn’t like that reunion very much. It was cliquey and everyone was trying to outdo the next with their accomplishments. But we were so happy to see each other and catch up. We danced and laughed and said, “See ya next time!” We ran into each other several times over the years…each time the same. Just old friends reunited.

Some time after the last reunion, I heard from that lanky fellow with the now-graying red hair and white beard. He had the very same blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. He invited me to lunch and the rest…as they say…is history. I’ve been waxing poetic this week with the passage of time. So many of us are gone. So many are missing and no one has heard from them in years. It’s the nature of aging, I suppose.

I think Mr. FixIt and I mesh so well together because we’ve known each other forever. We’ve lived our lives and accomplished things and worked out most of the kinks of our psyches long before we attempted to date. I honestly am not at all sure we would have made it had we gotten together in high school. We are who we are now simply because of what we’ve gone through in life. We are the people NOW who are meant to be together at this time.

I ran across this picture on Facebook yesterday. It was taken by Dave Ferrell, I believe. It’s a photo of young students standing in front of our High School. Mr. FixIt and I were likely playing on the grade school playground when this was taken, but it reminded me of who and where we used to be. It was truly an “Age of Innocence.” While it is a moot point and a waste of energy to wish we were back in times such as this, every once in a while…I do.

The world seems so big and scary and angry and dangerous these days. And, in some ways it is. But, it’s equally just as beautiful and fresh and lovely if you choose to look carefully. I’m looking forward to the weekend…of getting together with our friends and reminiscing old times. And maybe…even if just for a moment…it will be all Peace, Love, and Rock ‘n Roll….

”A Time of Innocence.” <<<< CLICK TO WATCH SIMON AND GARFUNKEL SINGING BOOKENDS/A TIME OF INNOCENCE LIVE AT THE CENTRAL PARK CONCERT.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,”
Philippians 1:3 ESV

The Girls With The Grandma Faces

Sun, 26 Jun 2022 01:30:00 -0600

We were oh so young when we met. Some of us went all through school together. We played on the playground together in grade school. Yesterday, we reminisced about our memories of when President Kennedy was assassinated…what were we doing, where were we when we found out, whose class were we in? We’ve gone through so much in our lives. We fought together for our rights and freedoms. We come from the same general background but with different upbringings. We love and respect each other…immensely. So, not a single one of us brought up anything remotely controversial yesterday. I don’t think a single one of us have our heads in the sand, but after the week we’ve collectively had, we just needed each other’s company. An unspoken bond held together with time and love and coffee.

We were oh so young when we left high school to head out into the world to continue our educations and create loves and families and careers. I didn’t really get to know most of these wonderful women until the last eight years or so. That’s when I asked a couple of my friends…

“How often to do you all get together for coffee?”

Crickets.

They hadn’t done that. Maybe lunch from time to time. But we had families to raise and houses to run and jobs to keep. I don’t think we really had time for friendships back then. And now? Now we have grandma faces. Life is a little bit slower. We appreciate the time a little bit more. We’ve gotten to a place in our lives where our friendships have moved a little closer to center stage. I keep a Facebook page where I can send out invitations for coffee gatherings. We try to meet once a month, although sometimes that isn’t possible. There was a big hiatus during covid and we were so excited to have a socially distanced coffee in the park one gorgeous summer day.

One of our big topics of conversation yesterday was our upcoming 50+1 Class Reunion. We are hoping it will be well attended. Six years ago, we had a coffee gathering at a Victorian mansion that belongs to a dear family friend/relative and some of the girls wanted to do that again. But, that’s a lot of work, and lot to ask of the homeowners. We talked about it yesterday and decided to have a gathering in the park for our coffee at this reunion.

We were oh so young. And now?

Our youth is on the inside now…tucked away…buffered by the winds of time and change.

Oh…so much change.

We may have grandma faces now, but we are still those young girls in the polyester pant suits and platform shoes and bell bottom jeans…on the inside.

“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”
Ephesians 4:29 ESV

A Day on the Tractor

Mon, 13 Jun 2022 01:30:00 -0600

We started out pretty early yesterday. When you have to mow in West Virginia, the afternoons can become so hot and sticky. It’s best to get done as early as you can. We still haven’t received the bolts I ordered for the push mower, so Mr. FixIt busied himself with the weed eater and the pole lopper. I rode the lawn tractor and mowed.

I read somewhere that people should observe “No Mow May” and I had to laugh. They obviously don’t live in a tropical rain forest like we do. If we didn’t stay on top of the mowing and trimming, we would be overrun in one growing season. As it is, we lose a foot of field every year. Then we go through and cut it all back again. It’s crazy how much things grow here.

Grandma always said at this time of year, “We’re knee deep in June!” I’d love to bottle these days up and keep them year round. Seventies to low eighties and I’m a happy camper…even out on the mower. I still mow with my big golf umbrella and headphone playing worship music. I sing at the top of my lungs. I have no idea if the neighbors can hear me, but I know Jesus can so that’s all that matters to me!

My first trip around the field and I came across this box turtle booking it toward the creek. I did what I’ve read to do. I carefully picked him up and moved him a few feet in the direction he was heading and placed him in a protected area of tall grass. Mr. FixIt took the weed eater down to the creek and cleared out around where the storm drain comes out. He also got rid of a lot of low hanging branches that I was having trouble navigating on the mower. Once we were finished, we headed out to the farm to mow before it rained in the evening. I’m leaving tomorrow for a couple of days camping with some girlfriends and I didn’t want my sweetheart to have to do this work alone.

Today is my 69th Birthday. I usually celebrate my whole birthday month, but this year someone I know and love is struggling with health issues and it somehow felt rude to go over the top celebrating my own good health and good fortune. It felt like flaunting and that’s not who I am. Mr. FixIt and I were watching CBS Sunday Morning yesterday.

“Tomorrow’s your birthday!” he said with enthusiasm.

I breathed a sigh of relief that he remembered without me having to say anything. I’ve spent many birthdays disappointed that no one remembered. I’m past that now. If they don’t say anything by the day before, I have no problem reminding them. I’m just happy I didn’t have to with my sweetheart. When we were on our way to the farm to mow, I suggested we go to town and get a steak dinner and go to the park tonight for a picnic. I love picnics! Some of my favorite birthday celebrations have been simple dinners out in nature.

This begins my last year of my 60’s. I’ve thought a lot about that the last few weeks. I doubt 69 is going to be quite as fun as ‘69 was. That was one crazy year! The Beatle’s last public performance. The first flight of the Concorde. The Boeing 747 made its debut. The Pontiac Firebird Trans Am was THE car to have. There was Woodstock. Neil Armstrong and “Buzz”Aldrin were the first humans to step foot on the moon. I turned 16 years old that summer. That’s a magical age anyway, then add all these huge events…it was a pretty monumental year.

So, I’ve decided…I’m going to end my sixties with a bang and shoot for all kinds of good things. Lots of camping and nature. And lots of time with my family and friends. Here’s to a really good year…and many more!

“May he grant you your heart’s desire and fulfill all your plans!”
Psalm 20:4 ESV

We Interrupt This Program

Sun, 01 May 2022 01:30:00 -0600

As I find myself aging, my body changes in so many ways. Some grand and glorious…some, not so much. Primary hyperparathyroidism makes you anxious and can cause lots of “upper GI disturbances”. Anxiety on its own can also cause these tummy troubles. Now that I have both sources, my body tells me if I’m nauseous, I must be anxious and my body sends out a huge jolt of adrenaline which only compounds the issue.

I’ve discovered by a system of elimination…combined with a short memory…that I simply cannot eat heavy foods anymore. Nine times out of ten they make me sick and send me on a spiral of ickiness. Remember when I taught myself how to make Miss Brenda Gantt’s wonderful Buttermilk Biscuits and Sausage Gravy? Can’t do it anymore. Yesterday, I made French Toast and Bacon. Nope…add that to the list of things this old body wont accept anymore.

Hey…it’s not all a bad thing (except when I forget how sick it makes me and think this time is bound to be different.) those things are not good for my cholesterol and my weight. So, it’s God’s way of saying…cut that crap out!

Yesterday was supposed to be mowing day, but it rained during the night and off and on all day so the grass was too wet. Then I was not feeling up to it. Mr. FixIt went out to the farm to double check the pump to make sure all is well with the well. (See what I did there?) It was. When he got home, he went out on the riding mower for a while and got some of the field done.

I spent the day making my packing list for the trip. It’s crazy all the things I think I need. And, since the camper is at the dealership, hopefully getting fixed by Wednesday, I cannot pack it here. I have to pack it all in the truck and spend the first couple of nights on the road organizing and making the beds, etc. I’ve decided to try to head out on Wednesday so I can be in Denver a couple of days before the senior festivities begin. That way I can rest up from the drive.

I am teaching myself how to combine two sock patterns so I can knit one with some texture to it. I think it’s going pretty well. I love to watch something come together and become something beautiful as well as useful. Knitting offers me captive time to sit quietly with Jesus and talk to Him. We work out lots of things. I give over more and more of myself with every stitch and He promises to carry the weight of all my worries so I don’t have to. Writing does the same thing for me. I can feel terribly anxious or out of sorts, but by the time I get to the end of a post, I feel so much better. Sitting with my “monkey brain” is not a good place to be. Shining the light of Jesus into all the dark corners brings me back into focus and, while all may not be right with the world, I feel much better prepared to handle whatever comes my way. And…isn’t that the peace that is beyond all understanding?

Happy May Day!

“Your testimonies are wonderful; therefore my soul keeps them. The unfolding of your words gives light; it imparts understanding to the simple.”
Psalm 119:129-130 ESV

Manners are Important

Wed, 27 Apr 2022 01:30:00 -0600

It seems a goodly portion of society today has forgotten their manners. Or, maybe they didn’t have them in the first place. What happened to all the Grandmas insisting the young ones say please and thank you and respect their elders? Are people with impeccable manners a thing of the past? Gosh…I surely hope not.

There are regional rules of etiquette. Young people in the south are routinely taught to say “Yes, ma’am” and “No, sir”. While hand written thank you notes seem to be positively prehistoric to most people today. Things are much more relaxed in the West, but here in West Virginia…in my generation…we were taught good manners. We even had special assemblies in school where we learned the proper way to put on a coat and to enter a room. How to shake hands and make eye contact.

When my girls were young, I taught them what all the spoons and forks were for in a formal place setting, just in case they found themselves in such a situation. They learned to converse with adults. I taught them their opinion mattered…even when it differed with that of management…ie, their parents. I took my older daughter’s friends out for breakfast at McDonald’s and we played a game I called “Worse Case Scenario”. I’d give them a hypothetical situation and they discussed it amongst themselves and decided what the best course of action would be. Those kids are grown and sending their own kids off to college. They still remember that game.

Mr. FixIt has such old world manners. When we were first dating, he opened the car door for me every time. I soon told him that was fine for dates, but he needn’t do that every time. Still, when we walk down the street together, he always walks to the outside between me and traffic. It’s charming. He won my heart when he bowed his head in front of my mom’s grave and introduced himself to her. He told her how much he loved me and that he would take good care of me till the day he dies. He melts my heart.

There’s something I have noticed when we drive places. I almost always do the driving. Sometimes I’ll catch a quick movement out of the corner of my eye and look over at him. I can tell he moved, but I wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. I didn’t want to ask him…I wanted to figure it out on my own. I finally got my answer on our way home from the beach last weekend.

We switched turns driving in Charlottesville, VA. Some ways down the road, I happened to be looking over at him when I caught a swift motion. He was saluting! I looked back at the road just in time to see a sign on the bridge we were crossing. It had been dedicated to the memory of a certain soldier. There was an American flag stuck on the sign. My husband was physically honoring a fallen soldier and our flag!

My heart swelled with pride and tears stung my eyes. What a beautiful thing to do. We also pull over for funeral processions. He has such a huge heart. We neither one had the best of childhoods, but I thank his late mama for teaching him how to be a good husband. I wish more men were like my Mr. FixIt. The world would be a more loving and honorable place.

“Therefore the Lord, the God of Israel, declares: ‘I promised that your house and the house of your father should go in and out before me forever,’ but now the Lord declares: ‘Far be it from me, for those who honor me I will honor, and those who despise me shall be lightly esteemed.”
1 Samuel 2:30 ESV

#Esteem, #Honor, #Manners

Biscuits, Birthdays, and Bounty

Sun, 10 Apr 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Remember when I learned how to bake biscuits like Miss Brenda Gantt? I mixed them up in a “nest” right in the flour of the biscuit bowl, then covered the bowl with a clean pillowcase to use the next time. Well, the flour sat in that bowl over the winter. I didn’t bake them as often as I thought I would. I got the bowl out yesterday to make a batch of biscuits for breakfast and they were awful! The flour was stale and had picked up flavors from cooking. And the leavening was no longer active. I was so disappointed, not only in the biscuits themselves, but in the fact that I now need to throw all that flour away. It’s such a waste. If I knew someone who had pigs, I’d send it off to them, but I don’t.

Our day was totally uneventful until late afternoon. Mr. FixIt found a rebuilt lawnmower on FB Marketplace for our rental house so we headed over there to get it before we headed to our youngest FixIt’s 18th birthday party. The place was much further out than we originally thought. It rained off and on all day yesterday and we drove out through the country just as the clouds were parting. We went out one of those typical West Virginia single lane roads up a holler to the top of a steep hill. We kept chasing the rainbows with every turn. These people had the most amazing views from their house.

We had a lovely evening with the family. Our great-grandpuppy is growing up fast and has learned more tricks. The birthday girl got lots of gifts she can use as she heads off to college in the fall as well as a dousing with Silly String. The former Mrs. FixIt brought some quail eggs to show us. The egg lady gave her a dozen when she went to pick up her egg order yesterday. They are so pretty with their brown spots. Nature’s decoration.

So, I don’t have a lot of newsy, noteworthy, deep-thinking things to talk about today. Just life in it’s infinite beauty…moments spent with people I love…doing the mundane, everyday stuff. But, isn’t this what we live for? These days of calm in a boiling sea of angst? I feel so incredibly blessed to have this life. Oh, and my truck turned over 120,000 miles last night! Thank you, God for the bounty we receive!

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”
James 1:17 ESV

My Body and Me or Monday Motivations

Mon, 04 Apr 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Big is graduating from high school next month. Then, in August, Mr. FixIt and I have our 50+1 Year High School Reunion. I had every intention of losing weight and being svelte for both occasions, yet…here I am. Just…me. *heavy sigh* (Pun intended.)

When I got out of the shower yesterday, I sat on the edge of the bed to brush my hair. It’s become a much bigger ordeal now that it’s almost down to my waist. I used to hide from my body. I wouldn’t anymore sit in front of a mirror in my “all together” than I would run naked down the street. But, a lot has changed in the last couple of years. The pandemic made eating two loaves of sourdough bread a week an absolute necessity. And don’t get me started on the cookies and cinnamon rolls and biscuits, ok? Let’s just say…food was my comfort during a decidedly uncomfortable season in my life.

As I sat there, brushing my hair and looking at the leftover cinnamon rolls on my belly and hips, I got a great flash of insight. If we divide our lives up like we divide the year…in seasons, then it’s wintertime for this body. And what do we do in the winter? We give ourselves permission to seek comfort. I’ve learned I can embrace the snow or I can be miserable in it. Either way…there will be snow. So why not choose happy? Same with my body. I can love it or hate it but it’s the only one I’ve got. It’s just the meat sack my soul lives in till I get to go Home. I’ll be good to it and not hate myself for feeding it cookies from time to time.

My longest relationship was with a man who valued good health and to him, good health equaled being thin and athletic. Not my forte. As often happens when people aren’t on the same page in a marriage, frustrations boiled over and hurtful things were said in anger. Things that scarred me. I’ve forgiven those things because we are all just works in progress. But, I’ll be honest…up until the summer before the pandemic, I still felt self conscious about my weight in front of him.

Not anymore. Mr. FixIt and I went shopping yesterday at Kohl’s. My goal was to get something nice to wear to Big’s graduation in Colorado. As I walked through the store, it occurred to me I wasn’t feeling bad about it. I wasn’t wondering if there was some way to make myself look like I’ve lost fifty pounds by the middle of May. Like, maybe they have a new undergarment that will squeeze me into a size 12. Yeah…not bloody likely.

It’s not that I don’t care. It’s not that I don’t think it’s important to be healthy. I got the first inkling of this change when I apologized to the doctor for my weight a couple of years ago. He was quiet a moment while he looked at me and said, “You know, you can be healthy AND carry extra weight.”

Wow.

Permission to be normal. Who knew a doctor could be this way? Not I.

I’ve chosen a lot of new ways to feel this year. I’ve had two surgeries that didn’t find what we were hoping for. Were they failures? No…each one took out a tumor. We just couldn’t find all of them. I’ve adjusted my attitude from the fifty year plan to the twenty year plan. I’m not the weight I wanted to be for the events I have coming up. You know what? That’s ok. It’s been a hella hard couple of years and I’m blessed to be standing upright and taking nourishment. We haven’t had covid or lost our family to it. We aren’t destitute and can afford to eat and buy a tank of gas and have a roof over our heads.

I’m good. Besides, I’m not fat…I’m fluffy! And I bought a gorgeous outfit that will work for BOTH events! I get my peace from Jesus…not my jeans.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.””
John 16:33 ESV

Let’s Talk About Anger and Redemption

Tue, 29 Mar 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Jada Pinkett Smith rolls her eyes in response to Chris Rock’s joke about her alopecia. Initially, her husband laughs with the crowd. Then….not so much. Photo Credit: ABC

I have to tell you…I never watch the Academy Awards. I went eight years without a television. Then, after Mr. Virgo died, there was very little that could hold my attention for more than an hour so movies fell off the list, too. Mr. FixIt and I have been together for five years now and I believe we have gone to the theater maybe twice in that time. It’s just not something I do, so the Oscars are a bit of a moot exercise. I don’t know many of the actors and don’t follow their careers.

I was writing my post Sunday night when Mr. FixIt called me into the living room to see something on TV. He was watching the awards ceremony when the infamous “slap heard ‘round the world” played out on the screen. He, like many others, questioned what he was seeing. Was this a joke? Was it scripted? One look at Will Smith’s face when he was shouting at Chris Rock told me this was real.

Social media lit up with a fervor within moments with hashtags like #whatjusthappened. As best as I can tell by what I’ve read, there were a lot of things at play here and I think they warrant some discussion…not that there hasn’t been plenty, mind you.

First and foremost, let me say there is no place for violence…ever. I do not condone that behavior, nor am I excusing it.

Jada Pinkett Smith announced in 2018 that she was suffering with alopecia and decided to shave her head. From what I’ve found, she had only one spot of hair loss at the time, located on the crown of her head. As is her prerogative, she took control of the situation, much as chemo patients do who shave their heads before the poison has a chance to make their hair fall out in clumps. I admire that.

Alopecia is an emotionally painful condition. Much of our identity is tied up in our appearance and let’s face it…our hair is right there, front and center. Short of wearing a ball cap, we can’t do much to hide bald patches. I watch people I love struggle with ways to hide hair loss and I wish I could just get them to be brave and take charge and embrace who they are. But, it’s not my head…it’s not my hair.

Chris Rock is a comedian. I don’t think he’s very funny. His jokes are crude and vulgar and it’s never a good idea to joke about someone’s medical condition. So, at the get go, this wasn’t going to go well. When he got to Ms. Smith and made a reference to the next GI Jane movie, he was making reference to her alopecia. Not cool. Then…something happened.

The room laughed. Will Smith laughed. Jada Pinkett Smith did not.

What happened here? Obviously Ms. Smith didn’t laugh because the joke was about her. So why did the audience and her husband laugh? There is something called “mob psychology”. Something happens in a crowd setting that may not normally happen with the individuals within that crowd. It has to do with the need to belong, to fit in, to be one of the “in crowd”. It’s why teenagers succumb to peer pressure. And it’s why some law abiding citizens join in on a law breaking event they might never think of doing in any other setting.

The people in the audience take their social cues from each other. If a handful of people would have booed at the joke, there probably wouldn’t have been the laughter…albeit uncomfortable. So, they laughed. Will laughed. Then he looked at his wife and saw her annoyance and probable hurt. And, as is often the case with toxic masculinity, he went with his first impulse and walked to the stage to strike the errant comedian.

Let me interject a story here. When I was thirteen years old and my brother was fifteen, Mom left us home when she went to work. My brother is differently abled…he has cerebral palsy. I was, and still am his self-appointed protector. I was in the house one day, cleaning up the kitchen and starting supper. I heard a ruckus out back and went to investigate. There was a neighbor boy on the bank, hiding in some bushes, making fun of my brother and his stutter. I was livid.

I slipped out the front door, went up the street and around the back of his house. I snuck up behind him and before he knew what was happening, I kicked him in the seat of his pants and he went tumbling down the bank and into the street. He got up, skinned and bloodied. I shinnied down that bank as fast as I could and stood right up to that bully…nose to nose…and told him if he ever picked on my brother again, he’d look a darned sight worse next time. He ran crying into the house and I went to get my brother and take him inside.

I understand the deep down gut instinct to protect that which is mine. I do. But there is a huge difference between what I did as a thirteen year old and what this grown man did on national television. I understand we hold celebrities to higher standards because they are looked up to by others. I know what he should have done…could have done. He chose to resort to violence and sullied his reputation in the process. I believe he’s contrite for a number of reasons…not the least of which is the repercussions that may come from the Academy itself like the possibility of losing that coveted Oscar. I understand he and Chris have mended their fences already…which smacks of “boys will be boys”.

Did Jada need rescuing? Probably not. She is a pretty strong individual and can hold her own from what I can see. Did the people involved in the movie he was there to represent get their evening ruined? Probably so. It wasn’t the shining moment they were hoping for…that they deserved. Did the attendees get what they came there for? Maybe. Maybe not. That’s not the point of this exercise.

Denzel Washington probably had the most prophetic comment of the night. During the commercial break…after the altercation but before Will’s Oscar win…Denzel said to him “At your highest moment, be careful. That’s when the devil comes for you.” And, isn’t that the truth? When we are at the apogee of our careers…when we are standing in the spotlight of good things…that’s when we are the most vulnerable to the enemy’s attacks.

Will Smith ignored his better angels that night. He did what he thought was right in the emotion of the moment and defended his wife. And what we witnessed was a fall from grace which is a really hard thing to watch. There’s been a lot of that lately…that “falling from grace”. Maybe society at large have been living a little high on the hog and we’re getting dressed down to size. Maybe mob mentality is challenging our better angels to a duel. I don’t know. I do know that violence is never the answer to lasting peace…not in any arena.

Lady Gaga, left, and Liza Minnelli present the award for best picture at the Oscars on Sunday, March 27, 2022, at the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles. (AP Photo/Chris Pizzello)

What we really should focus on were the wonderful firsts that occurred during the night. The best picture win went to an all deaf cast, bringing the deaf community into the spotlight in a mainstream movie that normalizes the characters’ lives, showing them as no different than ourselves. But to me, from what limited clips I saw, the star of the evening was Lady Gaga. She accompanied the aging and frail Liza Minnelli out to present the Oscar for Best Movie. While Ms. Minnelli stumbled a bit, her protégé was calm and gently guided her through the entire process in a way that honored the septuagenarian without infantilizing her. What a wonderful example of respecting our elders. These are the people we should be looking up to and talking about.

“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”
Matthew 23:12 ESV

A Short Attention Span

Mon, 14 Mar 2022 01:30:00 -0600

I’m finding knitting a shawl to be a bit more tedious than I thought. Granted, if I were knitting a more intricate pattern, or if the yarn changed color more frequently, it might be more entertaining. As it is, you start with one stitch and gradually add two stitches every other row. So, as you get further along in the course of knitting the garment, the rows become longer and longer. There is something of a psychological obstacle when you knit and knit and knit and get two rows done. Ugh. Now I totally get why knitters have more than one project going at the same time.

I decided to start a pair of socks yesterday. I’m using a hand painted yarn. It’s four-strand fingering, 85% wool and 15% nylon for strength. It’s twisted very loosely and it’s not incredibly soft. I got it out of the interest in seeing how the socks match. Because, allegedly they’ll match stitch for stitch. We’ll see. It was a lovely break to see a different color and watch my work grow more quickly.

Of course, when I knit, Mr. FixIt has the TV. Yesterday was actually rather entertaining. He binge watched Modern Marvels where they film how different foods are made. It was really interesting and informative. Something caught my attention on TV recently. There was an ad for a car warranty company that I want to talk about.

This company has advertised for years. Sometimes a celebrity talks about how important it is to have your car under a warranty. They usually have “customers” who sing the praises of said warranties and how it’s saved them thousands of dollars. However, they have started showing a new commercial and I just couldn’t believe what they did. They did the usual pushing of the warranty, and how it would save you money. But, it was like those posts you see on Facebook that are designed to get you to participate and click. “Tell me you’re old without telling me you’re old.” It was what they DIDN’T say that was so obvious.

They referenced the economy, and inflation. And how with the way things are going, you may have to keep that old car forever. Then, she went on to say. “It’s our patriotic duty to have a car warranty to keep our costs down.” This is so wrong on so many levels. First of all, if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Google car warranties and see how many of them are scams and they turn people down right and left when it comes to fixing the vehicle. And you pay out the nose for these things. Second, it is insidious to call out to “patriots” to buy their product.

They are marketing to a certain segment of our population. A population that may be coerced more easily perhaps. As I get older, I am more aware of how companies market to the elders in the community and they are likely on a fixed income and can’t afford things like car warranties. I hate seeing people taken advantage of and this smacks of preying on the elderly and those who, perhaps for political reasons, think this company cares about or represents them in some way.

I may be totally off base on that, but it’s just the way it struck me. I’ve watched more television in the last four months than I’ve seen since Mr. Virgo died. We watch mostly comedy shows like old Andy Griffith reruns or Frasier or Big Bang Theory. We watch America Says and The Chase sometimes. We love the singing competitions like American Idol and The Voice. And we watch a half hour of news every day. I’m knitting away the entire time and of course, this will all go to the wayside when it warms up and we are outside working.

It’s Monday, y’all. The time has changed and there was still light in the sky at 8:08 last night. Mr. FixIt and I were saying how much we love Daylight Savings Time and don’t mind the shift at all. But, as he pointed out, we don’t have to get up and go to work or school either, so that makes a huge difference. Get out there and make it a good week!

“Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy.”
Proverbs 31:9 ESV

When You Find You’re Out of Shape

Tue, 22 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

It’s Tuesday…2-22-22!

Lands, sake! I am SO out of shape! When winter hit and the outdoor chores were over, and there were no big holiday parties, no big indoor projects to accomplish…I sat down. Well, of course I did! I had knitting to do. And, while I knitted away…happy as a little clam…my muscles atrophied and I feel like I aged ten years. This cannot happen. I’m not even 70 yet. I have things to do, places to go, camping to accomplish.

I was fixing my breakfast when I heard Mr. FixIt rummaging around downstairs. He had decided to run the snake down the drain by himself and, truly…it is a two person job. The cable got twisted and he was having a heck of a time. I gulped down the last of my coffee and sat on the bottom step to help him. We struggled with that thing for two hours. When we did it last year and I was in great shape after mowing and working all summer, it still killed my hips and back. Fast forward to yesterday, a little over two week post op, and….let’s just say I wasn’t as much help and I hoped to be.

By the time we got the cable twisted up twice and jammed in the housing, we both gave up. There’s always another day. We did managed to pull out a big clump of roots from the drain, so we are hoping the rains coming this week won’t overwhelm the system. We both retreated to our respective recliners for the rest of the afternoon.

Since I finished the latest project Sunday night, I decided to pick up the next one. I had a few choices of yarn and I selected a bright, colorful Merino Wool and Bamboo blend. I found a better pattern for a true shawl so I set to knitting. This yarn is SO soft to the touch. It’s super stretchy. And the colors create stripes, just like a rainbow. I think this is the one I’ll wear to my granddaughter’s graduation in May in Colorado. We’ll see how it turns out.

It was 66° here by late afternoon so I decided it was a good camping night. It’s supposed to start raining in the middle of the night and I can listen it tapping on the roof of the camper. I haven’t replaced the chair in the camper since we returned the rockers, so I didn’t bring my knitting out. This camper isn’t really conducive to sitting propped up in bed to knit because the roof angles down at each end. So, I’ll write, and read, and maybe watch a movie.

My friend did well during her medical procedure yesterday and I wanted to thank you all for your prayers. I get to see my brother today over Zoom so I’m really looking forward to that. I need to start getting more exercise so I can get back to work here. Use it or lose it, am I right?

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 ESV

A New Week Begins and There’s Work to be Done

Mon, 21 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

The tree is down, the sun is out, and I’ve finished the little shawl/scarf I knitted. I still need to block it. I followed the pattern exactly and had enough yarn left over to knit another one, I believe. It isn’t as large as I pictured it being, but it’s still lovely and was an adventure in learning how to knit lace. I am finding the more intricate the pattern, the more I need to concentrate while I’m knitting. I lost count how many times I needed to rip out a row…or three! I found I needed to put my headphones on and listen to the campfire whenever I knitted the open lacy sections. But, it’s done and now I can move on to other things.

We are expecting some much warmer weather this week…and some rain. Typical seasonal weather for West Virginia. There are areas of the state that will see 2-4” of rain in a week. I’ve lived through summers in Colorado that didn’t see that kind of rain in six months. The rivers are rising. Trees are falling because the ground is saturated, the roots are shallow, and the wind just brings them down. I’m amazed (knock on wood) that we haven’t lost power here. It’s not unusual. We have the generator out on the front porch, gassed up and ready…just in case.

Today marks two years since Mr. FixIt had his first stroke. Six weeks or so later, he had another one. I am so happy to say he is doing really, really well. Very little residual effects. His balance isn’t great so there’s no more trips up tall ladders for my man, but when we think of what it could have been…oh, my! We are SO grateful that God spared us. We have poured ourselves into each other, knowing that we all live on borrowed time and tomorrow is never guaranteed.

My “Aunt Arlene” called yesterday. She was to marry my Uncle Sonny in the mid-‘50s but never had the chance. He was killed in a plane crash. I sent her one of The Farm memory books and she remembered my uncle telling her how much he loved Grandma’s Raisin Filled Cookies. I included Grandma’s handwritten recipe in the book, so Arlene called me last night to ask me some questions about it. I don’t know if any of you have kept your grandma’s or mom’s recipes only to see they were written more as notes than actual directions. She said she was committed to getting them finished so I sure hope they tasted good to her!

I had a lovely chat with Big last evening. You know how kids prefer texting. I find we “talk” a lot more if we text instead of talk on the phone. Big soon turns eighteen, graduates from high school, and will head off to college in the fall. I know what my daughter is going through with this. She seems to be handling it well…probably much better than I did. That may be because her children are much closer together. Little will graduate in three years then there will be the inevitable empty nest. When Daughter #1 graduated from high school, I still had a two year old at home. Big difference.

I don’t know if you are ever really prepared for that first child to grow up and leave you. It broke my heart when she and her new husband moved to Long Island…about as far away as they could get without leaving the country. I was in the throes of a depression anyway…having her so far away didn’t help matters. My daughter and her husband have a much stronger marriage than we had when she went out on her own, so I have great hopes for them to be successful.

I’m not at all sure what I’m going to get into today. I’m thinking of going out to the farm for a couple of days at some point this week. Other than that and a phone conference on Tuesday, I have nothing scheduled till coffee with my classmates on Saturday. I do need to start some repair work on the smaller a-frame camper soon so I can get it on the market. Our big project for the summer will be cleaning out the big building and getting a new roof on our house as well as our rental. That and the trip to the beach as well as the trip to Colorado and it’s almost as though the summer is over before its started.

Is it just me, or does time seem to race by the older we get? I remember looking at summer as an endless stretch of sun-warmed days filled with fun and friends and laughter. Now it seems you blink and you miss it but somehow you managed twenty doctor’s appointments and a garden and mowing in there. I am committed to spending more time sitting in the shade of a tree and sipping on iced tea this summer. Savor every moment because the water level in the bucket of life is sinking ever lower with each passing year.

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants! Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children. Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!”
Psalm 90:12-17 ESV

The Mysterious Moonlight and Helvetia

Fri, 18 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

The ring around the moon.

Night before last, I slept out in the camper. Mr. FixIt loves to camp, but doesn’t quite see the allure when the camper is less than 100 yards from our comfy bed and a real live bathroom. Still, he does not mind when I get a hankerin’ to go “camping”. He always comes out to kiss me goodnight and brings me a bedtime snack. He da man!

As he was leaving the camper to go back inside, he called over his shoulder, “You’d better come out here and look at the moon coming up. It’s going to be a beauty tonight.” I jumped up, stepped into my camping crocs, and grabbed my phone. I’m having a blast taking pictures with the camera on this iPhone 13 Pro Max. OMGosh! It has a function where you can take low light and night photos now and they are just magical.

Every evening after I’ve written my post and I’m unwinding for bed, I text with my son-in-law’s mom. Sue and I started daily texting when she was going through some medical issues a couple of years ago and I felt helpless living so far away. I couldn’t bring her dinners or come to visit, so I asked her what I could do to help her. She said, “Text me every night and tell me your stories. It gives me something to think about when I’m having treatments.”

The fog rolling in.

We’ve always been close. I have told my daughter many times that she won the lottery when it came to a family to marry into. They are the best people. But texting with her every day has brought us closer than ever and now, if we don’t at least check in to see how the others’ day went, it just feels weird. So, we were just wrapping up our chat when I looked up and the moon was high in the sky over the camper. I could tell there was a ring around it, so I ran out and snapped a few pictures.

Rings around the moon appear when the moonlight refracts on ice crystals in the atmosphere. We see them a lot here in West Virginia…I guess because it’s so humid here. When I woke up yesterday morning, I looked at my phone and saw the rain was going to start soon so I headed back into the house. Mr. FixIt was still asleep so I put a pork roast in the crockpot, ran the dishwasher, made my coffee, and settled in to knit for awhile.

Mr. FixIt had an appointment in town yesterday afternoon and I stayed home for some quiet time. It was lovely because the fog rolled in, the stove was glowing, and I turned on the TV. That’s unusual for me, but I’ve been enjoying watching videos about the Appalachias and her people. I love the music and the cooking, the old stories and photographs people share. I watch these when I’m home alone knitting. It’s so soothing and peaceful.

My morning view out the big picture window in the camper.

There was a wonderful documentary on Helvetia, West Virginia. It is our “Little Switzerland” here in the Mountain State. Switzerland was a very, very poor country and people emigrated to this country to seek a better life and a place where they could own land. They settled into a very remote mountainous area that isn’t too far off the road I take when I go to visit my family in the Eastern Panhandle.

This particular documentary was made possible with major support by the National Endowment for the Arts and was produced by Gerald Mills of the Augusta Heritage Center at Davis and Elkins College in Elkins, West Virginia. You may recall me visiting there there for the state fiddle and flat footing competitions when I was hauling the Girl Camper Raffle Trailer around all over the state in the fall of 2019.

I’ve never been to Helvetia, but now that I’ve seen this, I really must go. Here is a link to the documentary. It’s an hour long, but it’s just delightful and I hope you’ll take the time to watch it.

[youtu.be/Sk2Gv2lKz...](https://youtu.be/Sk2Gv2lKzRI)

Happy Friday, everyone!

❤️

“yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.”

James 4:14 ESV

Facing Life’s Disappointments

Mon, 07 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Ever since I received the long awaited diagnosis of primary hyperparathyroidism, I’ve been on a mission to find a cure. I became my own advocate and read everything I could find about the disease and how it affects the body. I researched physicians and medical centers for the best and most recent treatments. I joined a Facebook Support Group for people with pHPT and selected the world’s best surgical team to get this taken care of.

Over and over, I read wonderful stories about people who were cured by having a simple surgical removal of the affected parathyroid gland(s). I was so hopeful and it never even occurred to me the first surgery would fail to cure my disease. I was so disappointed. After a little time to heal, I began my search anew. I looked closer to home. I found new hope in a new surgical team. The difference this time was…I knew I could be disappointed again.

As it turned out, the missing parathyroid glands didn’t magically show up for the second surgery. That’s not to say there wasn’t some good news. It turned out, the second gland that was biopsied and deemed normal during the last surgery wasn’t normal this time. It was removed and sent to the lab, along with blood samples to test my PTH intraoperatively. I know when the surgeon received the results, he felt disappointment, just as he knew I would.

I have been studying some bible devotionals the last couple of days on the subject of disappointment. One is called Tackling Disappointment by Susan Narjala. Here is a segment from today’s reading.

“In the Bible we see Paul who prayed asking for God to take away the chronic physical pain. Three times he prayed. But God didn’t remove that “thorn” in Paul’s side. Did Paul retreat into devastating disappointment? No. Paul trusted that God had a purpose in not answering his prayers. Paul instead declares that he will boast in his weakness so the power of Christ may rest on him.

But, friend, remember this truth: God takes you through the valley experiences for a reason. Scripture reminds us in Isaiah 66:9, “In the same way I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born,” says the Lord.

A place of disappointment can be a place of blessing. When He allows you to face discouraging circumstances, He has a purpose behind it. The question is whether you are allowing God to train you in that difficult season of disappointment.”

I allowed myself a little pity party yesterday. I had great hopes that this surgeon would find the missing glands, remove any that were diseased, and cure me of this affliction. Then, after a little time sitting in my sorrow, I let it go. I will pray daily, and ask others to pray with me, that God himself will take this away from me. And, if He does not, then I ask that He brings me the grace and grit to carry it well and be my best self. It’s not the worst thing in the world. It’s not cancer. It’s not the failure of a major organ. It’s a niggling problem that can cause my bones to become brittle. It can make me cranky and give me pain and make my hair fall out. There are a lot of people who have to live with a lot worse things in life. We still don’t have the final word. It can take a year for the numbers to sort themselves out. In the meantime, I’m going to let myself heal, finish knitting a sweater, and get on with this beautiful life I’ve been given!

❄️❤️❄️

“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus,”
1 Corinthians 1:3-4 ESV

Another Long Day

Sun, 06 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I slept soundly the night after surgery. Still loaded with anesthesia and pain medications, I drifted off at a decent time. It helped that Mr. FixIt was also tired after being my helpmate so it was lights out early for us. I mentioned casually that if I felt better when I awoke yesterday morning, we could possibly go home. I should have known when my sweetheart came in to wake me up, he had plans. Oh, my gosh…I was so sore. I gradually dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

There sat my Mr. FixIt, waiting expectantly on the corner of the couch, his suitcase packed and sitting on the floor beside him. His hopeful smile told me everything I needed to know. We were going home. I don’t blame him. Hotel furniture is not made to be comfortable, although the bed was divine! Our backs were complaining from sitting on that sofa so much and we both longed for our comfy recliners at home.

I had my breakfast, loaded up on Tylenol and ibuprofen, and packed my bags. Mr. FixIt got us all loaded up and off we went. The roads weren’t bad, but there were places that could be icy, and he knew he was carrying tender cargo, so we took our time getting home. The trees were still encased in ice and the sun made them sparkle like a million diamonds. It was stunning. We stopped and picked Pumpkin up from the kennel and went to Walmart for a prescription and chicken noodle soup. And as soon as we got home, I went to bed and slept for a couple of hours.

My voice is a little deep from the breathing tube. I’m tired and sore. And I headed to bed extraordinarily early. I did manage to knit a few rows on my sweater, both on the drive home, and in the recliner after my nap. But that’s about it. Just taking it slow and easy, resting and recovering. That’s what knitting and naps are for, right?

❄️❤️❄️

“Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones.”
Proverbs 3:7-8 ESV

Devotions and Distractions

Fri, 04 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

When I want clarity and direction, I turn to my Bible and read any number of devotions on whatever topic is troubling me at the time. When I want distraction, I turn to my knitting and YouTube for any number of topics that pique my interest. Yesterday was a mixture of both. I read the Bible and my selected devotionals every day but yesterday I spent a good deal of time on the topic of finding strength in the Word and reminding my monkey brain that anxieties are nothing more than thoughts and they cannot hurt me.

My reward yesterday was working on the first sleeve of the sweater I’m knitting. I got about seven or eight inches done before I put it away to write. My other reward was YouTube videos. Whenever I want to feel soothed and comforted, I look for videos about Appalachian life. I found a full length documentary on mountain talk…the interesting words and sayings and superstitions of my ancestors. (You can see the VIDEO HERE.)

There’s something about listening to the older generations talk about their upbringing that takes me back to a simpler time when I didn’t have to worry about much of anything. Watching these videos takes me into my grandma’s kitchen and to the old country store with the wooden floors and the glass case with penny candy on display. If I was good, I got a little paper sack of Maple Nut Goodies or Peanut Butter Logs or Chocolate Covered Peanuts. (My people called a bag a “poke”.) These videos are sheer escape and soothe my mind which was just what the doctor ordered.

I’m so glad we drove up here Wednesday and not yesterday. Even though the weather down towards West Virginia and Southeastern Ohio was rainy, the afternoon began to bring freezing rain, sleet, and slick roads. The farther the day wore on, the slower the cars were going on the four lane out our window. Around 3:00 or so, I suggested we get out of the room and walk around the hotel. We checked out the gym and pool and stuck our heads out the front door to see if it was really as slick as they said it was on TV. It was, but listen…I didn’t spend all those years in Colorado for nothing. I’m a good driver in the snow. If you didn’t drive in the snow in Colorado, you didn’t go anywhere for over half the year.

We ate light yesterday. I made baked potatoes for supper. I also suggested Mr. FixIt might want to go out and make sure we could open the doors and warm up the truck to get the ice off the windows. We have to be at the hospital at 5:00 this morning, so he said he would go out at 4:00 to warm the truck up again. Have I told you what a gem he is? This will be short today as we needed to get to sleep early.

I’m calm and peaceful and going into this surgery with great hope that I’ll come out the other side feeling better than I have in years…once I heal, of course. If I’m feeling up to it, I’ll at least check in tomorrow to let you know how everything went. I want to thank you all so much for your prayers and concern and uplifting support as I’ve walked this particular path. I appreciate you all more than you will ever know.

Now…let’s get this done!

❄️❤️❄️

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

Mark 11:24 ESV

Thoughts and Feelings on a Cold Blue Winter’s Day

Sun, 30 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Wow…is it cold or what? We were in Columbus the last few days and felt the bitter blasts of flat Midwest winds. I didn’t even look up the wind chill factor. I think it just makes you colder. But I do know this…when it’s 3° outside and the wind is blowing, it’s flat out miserable. Our hotel room was on the first floor. I don’t know if the room was cold simply because it was cold outside or the fact we were sitting on a huge slab of cement. The heater had a governor on it and you couldn’t turn the thermostat up over 78° and at that level, it blew nothing but cool air…until it didn’t. Then it got way too warm. Next time, we will elect to stay on an upper floor.

As we were driving home yesterday, Mr. FixIt asked if we could stop at Rocky Boots in Nelsonville, OH. We are of an age now that we know to ask each other what we want for our birthday or Christmas gifts. We have everything we need and there’s absolutely no need to go overboard on huge gifts…especially if it’s not something we really want. Mr. FixIt has a big birthday coming up so I’ve asked him to let me know what he would like. Unfortunately, he has an unusual foot size so he wasn’t able to find the comfy boots he was hoping for. We’ll have to keep looking.

We were surprised that Columbus got so much less snow than we have at home. You could really tell the difference between Columbus and Nelsonville. We got out of the truck and there were piles of snow reminiscent of my winters in Colorado. When we got back in the truck and headed home, there was something about the way the sun reflected on the snow under the clear cerulean blue sky brought me back in time.

Have you ever had a memory come to you and instantly you are transported across time and space to something warm and wonderful? That is what happened yesterday. It was the winter of 1982. Denver had a Christmas Eve blizzard that stopped the city in its tracks. People were delivering nurses to the hospitals on snowmobiles. And once you were there, you didn’t come home till the roads were cleared. Hubby #2 was in Medical School so fortunately, he was home with us.

We rented an old brick bungalow the color of a sandy beach. It had big windows and zero insulation. We had no money to speak of. We used a kerosene stove in the middle of the living room for extra heat. Daughter #1 was eight years old. We gave her the only bedroom in the house and we slept out on the sun porch in the back. Ice formed in the corners of her room and on the windows in ours.

We were poor and in love and didn’t care that we had no money. We walked to the store in the snow and carried our groceries back home. I was filled with dreams of living in the country and having a farm with chickens and gardens. I baked our bread, made homemade granola and yogurt, and started seedlings inside for what vegetables we could grow in the flowerbeds around the house. We did whatever we could to entertain ourselves on the cheap.

That’s where I was teleported yesterday as I drove through the farmland of Ohio. I held that warm memory up to the light of today and realized…I’m exactly where I dreamed I would be oh those many years ago. It isn’t at all like I thought it would be at the time. There was a whole other marriage and a death between then and now. Another child came along to add to the family. Dogs filled our hearts and broke them when their all-too-short lives came to an end. Moves were made. Hearts were broken and mended. Old lives were lost and new lives were added and here I am…back where I started.

West Virginia. With a different West Virginia boy than the one I first set out with. And a big family to love. I bake our bread, I can our food, I grow a garden. That’s why that warm feeling that came over me yesterday seemed so familiar.

It is my life. And it is so, so good.

❄️?❄️

“We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.”
Proverbs 16:9 NLT

Let’s Talk Common Sense

Mon, 10 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

If you look around…wherever you live…especially if you’re “of a certain age”, you’re going to scratch your head and think “What the heck happened to common sense???” I don’t know about you, but I shake my head…a LOT! Sometimes I think my eyes are just going to keep on rolling and stay that way.

One of my pet peeves is when you ask your health care provider how to correct something and he/she comes back with a prescription. Lord knows…I don’t need any more prescriptions. I’m trying to thin out some of them I’m taking as it is. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute but I’m going to tackle a somewhat sensitive subject…one that now seems to have lots of commercials representing “cures”. Let’s talk…irregularity.

Come on…every body poos. And the healthier it is, the better you are going to feel. What’s that one commercial call it…crankypated? Pretty good description. It seems the older I get, the more that going becomes not going and that causes all kinds of problems. One of the really fun side effects of hyperparathyroidism can be constipation. I mentioned this to my endocrinologist and he ordered lactulose. It is a sugar that gloms onto fluid and forces it into the stool. Ok, that’s one way to do it, but I only tried it once and it was pretty harsh. (Shubs…I’m sending the rest your way!)

My grandparents drank prune juice to stay regular. I’ve eaten a couple prunes a day without seeing grand, lasting results. Not that they aren’t good…but I just don’t think of grabbing a handful. And prune juice? Ummmm…no, thanks. I’ve tried Metamucil and stool softeners with mixed results. Then, I remembered the “Activia Challenge” commercial. Hey...I love yoghurt! One little cup every night for dessert? Yes, please!

I am happy to report, after just five days having this little taste treat every evening and things are right as rain again! It is because of the probiotics added to the yoghurt. Our gut biome gets all wonky for a lot of different reasons. When you have to take an antibiotic, it can mess with the bacterial balance in your gut. Certain medications and medical conditions cause constipation. We drink less water as we get older and that contributes. We eat less green, leafy vegetables and fruits like whole apples and prunes.

Another problem I’ve had for the last several years is acid reflux…commonly referred to in medical circles as GERD. I’ve had upper endoscopies and colonoscopies and, even on a strong prescription acid reducer, I still had gastritis the last time. The doctor bumped me up to the strongest dose I could take and it still didn’t make much difference. Add to that…GERD is one of the major symptoms of hyperparathyroidism, so I’ve got a double whammy.

When Mr. Virgo died, I needed a little help with my mood so I started taking the St. John’s Wort regularly. When I was in Florida having my parathyroid surgery in March, the PA was going through my pre-op physical and asking me what medications I take. I was on antidepressants for years and I don’t ever want to take them again if I can avoid it. I figured, if I could take something natural that would work, then that’s what I’d rather do…hence, the St. John’s Wort. She said something about being very careful with that particular supplement because it can have a strong interactions with certain medications. I not only promptly forgot what medication she mentioned, but that she had issued the warning in the first place. It only recently came back to me. (Memory is funny that way, isn’t it?)

Anyway, the other night I looked up on WebMD and saw they have a medication interaction calculator. You put in your medications and it tells you if any of them interact poorly. I wanted to find out which one the St. John’s Wort was messing up. Well, would you believe it was the acid reducer? It reduces the effectiveness. And here I’ve been doctoring for this burning in the pit of my stomach, taking the strongest medicine I could take…for YEARS, and not getting any relief. I’ve weaned off the St. John’s Wort now and I can already feel a difference in my stomach…it’s not burning like it used to. Eureka!

This is when we circle back to “common sense”. Sometimes you just have to take a step back, do a little research, and be your own best advocate in the medical community. They are trained to fix things and their tools are often medicine. You can rest assured, they don’t get kickbacks from the drug companies like they used to. That’s how some people end up in their old age taking a shoebox full of pills every day prescribed by a handful of different doctors.

I’m here to tell you…I was married to a doctor. For twenty years. And he was darned good at what he did. But…he put his boots on one at a time, just like everyone else. Doctors are not God. And medicine is not an exact science. While anyone with that kind of education and professional status commands a certain amount of respect, it should never come at the cost of you not questioning something. If they push pills, ask if there’s an alternative. Tell them you aren’t an avid pill popper and see if there’s some other natural, healthy way to fix your problem.

My Aunt Peeps was in her 80’s when she died of dementia and untreated (by choice) breast cancer. My cousin was sitting with her in the hospital one day when the doctor asked her what medicine she took. The answer shocked him. One small prescription…period. No vitamins. No supplements. Nothing over the counter except maybe an aspirin or acetaminophen from time to time. She never bought anything fancy for her skin. She washed her face with a washcloth and whatever bar soap was available. She used Prell shampoo and Crest toothpaste, because that’s what her mother used. She stayed away from doctors at all costs save for the two times she broke her hips. (She actually fell on the ice and broke her wrist once but never went in to have it set. It was always crooked after that.)

In contrast, when I called my mom every Sunday night, I received the rundown on how many doctor’s appointments they were going to every week and which antibiotic they were currently taking. Doctors were gods in her house. You never, ever questioned them. But I’m here to tell you, you’ve GOT to question them. In a non-confrontational manner, of course. But don’t just take everything they say as the gospel. Write down your questions. Be sure you leave enough time in your appointment to feel free to ask your health care professional to answer them.

So, there’s my TED Talk for the night. Poop and prescriptions. Don’t be afraid to ask and get your questions answered.

“If you become wise, you will be the one to benefit. If you scorn wisdom, you will be the one to suffer.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭9:12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

So Long, Betty!

Sat, 01 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I think it’s rather fitting that, on the last day of what was probably one of our most challenging years since WWII…God would take Betty home. I think those who really enjoyed Betty White’s sassy sense of humor truly wish we could have helped her celebrate her 100th birthday. Then again, maybe she just knew when it was time to make a graceful exit.

I’ve always loved Betty’s depiction of Rose on Golden Girls. The ditzy widow from St. Olaf, Minnesota cracked me up time after time. Mr. FixIt and I love to end our days snuggled under the covers and watching funny comedy clips. We often watch Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia as they share a home in Miami and laugh at their antics. While the rest of the cast is certainly funny, it’s Rose that steals the show for me.

It’s hard to believe 2021 is finally over. I swear, this seemed like the year that would NEVER end. It was full of challenges. But it was full of beauty, too. There was travel, camping, visitors, family, old friends and new friends, birthdays, anniversaries. There were campfires and cookouts, antiquing and baking, gathering and letting go. Goodbyes are some of the hardest things we have to endure in life…and there were too many of those this year.

Our first rule of the new year…don’t dwell on what went wrong last year. We ended the year full of hope for 2022.

May you and yours enjoy safety, good health, and prosperity in the year to come!

Happy New Year!

““Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:18-19 ESV

Heavy Sigh

Sat, 18 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I had kinda forgotten what grief feels like in your body. It’s been over eight years now since I lost Mr. Virgo. I forgot the heavy sighs…that feeling like you just can’t quite take in a deep enough breath. I forgot the deep ache in my chest that physically feels like you’ve been punched in the solar plexus. I forgot how your body hurts…sort of like when you’re coming down with a bad cold.

I have no real appetite. The tears sit behind my eyes till they can’t anymore then they spill over. I know my friend is fine now. I know the pain she had in her back is gone and she’s healed and beautiful and young and free. She’s probably got the angels rolling in the aisles…if they have aisles in Heaven. She’s with her sister and her mom and her dad and all her loved ones that left before us. She’s probably already looked up every musician she ever loved that’s gone before us and is listening to better live music than any she sought out here.

But, I’m selfish. I want to keep texting with her and laughing at the absurdities of people and life in general. I want to meet her for dinner and go sit by the river and listen to some great guitar aficionado. I want her to answer all my questions, like “Who do I call to get a new roof on the house?” I want her to text me in the morning to say, “Link’s broken” so I’ll know to go fix my morning post. I want her to call me from her car as she is heading to yet another meeting just to tell me they’re having a sale on turkeys at the Pig.

We are gathering today to remember…seriously, the funniest woman I’ve ever known. And the world is a little less sparkly. She didn’t want a service. She just wanted her friends to gather and share stories and laugh. I’ll bet dollars to donuts there will be music by the Zac Brown Band playing in the background at the funeral home. I sent photos from my phone to add to those collected from her many other friends for a slide show.

It’s just barely begun to feel real to me. I went all day yesterday without crying. Because I know she’s ok. I know we can’t understand why God takes people when He does. I know there’s nothing I could have done to change the course of Sparky’s passing. I think it’s perfectly natural to feel some guilt. You know…all the “if onlys” and “I should haves”. A wise friend told me to put that **** in a bag, tie it up tight, and give it to God…and DON’T keep taking it back and peeking in to see if He’s taken care of it for you.

It’s not easy to say goodbye to someone who was such a huge part of your everyday life. But, I’ll learn to navigate around the Sparky-sized hole in my heart and I won’t fall in every time I think of her. I can hear her now. She could swear till a sailor blushed. The socially acceptable version would sound something like, “Snap out of it!” Yeah…that’s not what I’ll hear her saying though. If you knew her…you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you didn’t, you can well imagine.

I am actually looking forward to gathering with our friends and fellow classmates and sharing our grief and our memories. I can guarantee there will be tears…but there will be plenty of laughter, too. So, my dear Sparky…it’ll never be goodbye. It’ll only be…wait for us among the stars. We’ll be along, one of these days. Till then…this song’s for you.

Bittersweet by Zac Brown Band

❄️

“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.”
1 John 3:2 ESV

Life’s Perfect Imperfections

Wed, 08 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

There is nothing in life that is perfect save for the love of God. Flaws face us at every turn and no matter how hard we try, we will never be perfect. When you operate as a perfectionist, you rob yourself of so many opportunities to laugh at yourself. You cheat yourself out of the glorious feeling of being good enough. That doesn’t mean you don’t strive for better. We all should. Like Little said this summer when we were baking together in our country kitchen in West Virginia….”We should have a baking show! We’ll call it Bear and Nana’s Baking Show. And our tag line will be…It’s Good Enough!” My Little Bear gets it! I wish I would have at that age!

I finally finished decorating the tree yesterday. The last of the precious vintage and hand blown ornaments went up and I carefully placed them where we can see and enjoy them all season. Mr. FixIt went out to the building and found a timer plug so the lights will automatically come on in the morning and off at midnight. I love to see the lights all day. I’ll take every opportunity to bring more light into my life…especially when the days are getting shorter and the nights still get longer.

I no sooner finished and put the boxes away when Mr. FixIt walked in and said, “What’s wrong with the tree?” I looked over and wouldn’t you know…another strand of those pre-lit lights went out?!?! My heart sank a little. I tried to figure out if it bothered me enough to take everything off the tree, string new lights on it, and decorate it again and you know? It does not. After we watched The Voice last night and I prepared to come in our room to write to you, I sat on the edge of my seat and stared at the tree.

“You know what?” I asked my sweet husband. “Nothing on this earth is perfect so this is just going to be our year of the imperfect tree.”

“Eh, we’re getting the new tree top angel pretty soon. Maybe she’ll brighten up the top of the tree.”

Yep, I’m sure she will.

As I was sifting through the box of fragile ornaments, I came across a little treasure trove. I put those ornaments away in February, and I have no memory of tucking this little packet inside. Maybe it got placed there as I absentmindedly searched through boxes at some point since. You know, like the time I finally found a long lost phone book in the freezer. It happened to be in my hand and when my mind went in a different direction, i just set it aside as I picked up the rump roast.

I sat down in my recliner and sifted through to see what I’d found. There were several photos of past employee parties when Hubby #2 was finishing his internship and residency in Denver. There was a photo of a cloth doll I made when you couldn’t get your hands on a Cabbage Patch kid to save your life. My foster sister and her husband, looking like the babies they were, in their wedding picture. I sent it to their son. There was a funeral card for my step great grandmother. How did these things even get in there? I found two slips of paper torn from notepads with the autographs of Avery Schreiber and Harry Belafonte. I met them back in the early ‘80s.

But, the very best treat was a letter from my grandma written in her eighth grade hand. Her letters were always newsy, telling us what was going on at the farm. She always told us about the weather and who had come to visit her and when she’d seen the doctor last. Whenever I find one of her letters, it almost feels like a little visit with her. Mom always read her letters out loud to us. They always started out “Dear Ones…” no matter who she was writing to. Mom wrote back to her faithfully, even though we lived less than thirty miles away. When I married and moved away, her letters were precious jewels to me and I still cherish them when I run across one.

The next thing we will tackle is the annual Christmas cookies. Mr. FixIt will make his peanut butter cookies with the kisses on top. I’ll search my recipes and come up with some fun ones to bake. We like to give away containers of cookies every year to the neighbors and family and friends. My back is all better now so I’m ready to rumble!

❄️

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
Proverbs 22:6 ESV

It’s Palindrome Day! 12/02/2021

Thu, 02 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

The last time I came out to the farm, I expected to stay two nights but I had a dinner engagement wrong in my mind and had to cut it short. Then, there was all the hullabaloo surrounding Thanksgiving. Then I hurt my back and haven’t done much of anything since Saturday night. I do not like to take pain medication, but I did give in for the first couple of days. Then, just like clockwork, I stopped and my mood took a nosedive. It always does and that’s why I don’t like to take that stuff in the first place. So, if I was going to be blue, I knew where I needed to go.

The Farm.

I cannot tell you what a blessing it is to still have the opportunity to come stay at the home of my heart. My grandma’s goodness is baked into the timbers of this house and any time I get to stay here, it’s like medicine to my spirit. I got here mid afternoon and crawled into Grandma’s bed. It rained off and on and the sound on the tin roof lulled me off to a gentle slumber. I woke up and heated up a little supper and climbed back in bed with the memory book I wrote about the farm. I’m leaving a copy here so everyone who gets to visit can see the history of the place.

As I was looking through the book, I noticed the year Grandma and Pop-Pop got married. On October 13th, it was 100 years ago!!! I can’t believe that. My grandpa died forty-eight days before their 50th Wedding Anniversary. So, he’s been gone fifty years. It’s funny what the mind does to you when people are gone. When they are a part of you, and you hold them in your heart, that’s where they live and time is irrelevant. It is elastic. It stretches out interminably and shrinks back to the size of a grain of rice. They are always gone, yet they are always here.

On Thanksgiving this year, I experienced a wave of grief where I missed everyone. All of my loved ones who went before were tearing at my heartstrings. I don’t think I’ve quite put them back to bed yet. Hence another reason to make a retreat to the farm, gaze at my book of memories, and feel them all around me once more. I’ll rest and process and heal a little more, then I’ll head back home to my beloved Mr. FixIt.

And this time…I promise…we’re going to decorate for Christmas!

It takes a special person to love a widow or widower. I thank God I have that special man in my husband. He supports me and lets me fly and be who I need to be and feel what I need to feel. He’s so very special.

I am so grateful I had all these photos to put this book together for the family. My brother tells me he has it in a place of honor in his apartment. My Aunt Rosie says she held it and looked through it and remembered all the wonderful times she had growing up here and had a little cry. My cousin Cathy says she didn’t know half the stories that were in it. My cousin Tammy loves it and wants me to send her digital copies of all the photos. Daughter #1 took her copy with her to the family Thanksgiving dinner and shared all the stories she remembered. This is going to be a gift for generations to come and I’m so humbled I am the one to put it together.

❄️

“Then my God put it into my heart to assemble the nobles and the officials and the people to be enrolled by genealogy. And I found the book of the genealogy of those who came up at the first, and I found written in it:”
Nehemiah 7:5 ESV

The Matriarch

Wed, 01 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

My Great Great Grandmother…Nellie May

I talked to my grandma about just about everything. We had a very close relationship. I was the first granddaughter. We held a special bond. I just figured out the other day my grandma was only forty-seven years old when I was born, yet she always seemed “old” to me. Which is ridiculous because the woman could work circles around most men. She never shied away from a hard day’s work. She told me stories of her childhood. How she shinnied up the silo and bellered at the old bull. How she spent the majority of her childhood at her paternal grandparent’s house. How she only went through 8th grade in school so it was important to her that we all were well educated.

I asked her a lot of questions like…how did Jesus walk on water and did Pop-Pop help around the house and how do you make penuche frosting. But, there were a lot of questions I wasn’t allowed to ask. Her first baby was stillborn. We weren’t allowed to talk about that. Her father left everything to his only son leaving her and her sister’s families to struggle. We weren’t allowed to talk about that. Her beautiful sonny was killed in a plane crash when I was two. We weren’t allowed to talk about that. She lost her beloved husband just two months shy of their 50th wedding anniversary. We weren’t allowed to talk about that.

I’ve learned some of the answers by talking to my mom and her siblings. I’ve fleshed out most of the family stories by researching family trees and listening intently to the oral historians who carry my ancestors in their hearts and minds. Those hearts and minds are fading now and I have greater sense of urgency to find the answers before they’re gone for good.

When I wrote the memory book of the farm this fall, I gathered as many of the old photographs as I could. Many of them were faded, scratched, stained, and out of focus. I found an artificial intelligence app this week called Remini. You can scan old photos and run them through the app to clean them up and bring out details into sharper focus. I’ve been having a lot of fun with that. I especially enjoyed looking into the eyes of my maternal great grandmother…Nellie May.

I don’t know a lot about her other than the fact she was born out of wedlock which was a huge family scandal at the time. My mother was an avid genealogist long before the internet was a thing. She scoured bibles and libraries and newspaper archives for details. She was the oral historian of her generation and left that to me. She also was in possession of a great many of my grandma’s photos which helped me in my own pursuit of the stories behind the eyes.

When my great great grandmother had her baby girl, her parents went to the county courthouse and registered the birth as their own…something that was commonly done in those days to avoid a scandal. I remember my grandma was none to happy when Mom started diving in the family tree because she knew there were skeletons in there. Grandma had a saying… “Fools names, like their faces…always seen in public places.” Meaning…let sleeping dogs lie.

Nellie May died just four days after her 28th birthday, leaving three little children under the age of ten. She had “Bright’s Disease”…the old timey word for renal failure. She married and had her first child when she was seventeen. Life was harder in those days. No automation, no electricity, no phone. Doctors were a commodity most folks could ill afford. In the hills of Appalachia, you were more likely to be treated with herbs and folklore by an old widow woman who lived up a holler in a cabin somewhere.

Still, I look in her eyes and I see the eyes of the women who made me…my grandma’s round face…my mom’s hooded eyes, much like my own. I see Daughter #2’s complexion. I see Little’s nose. I draw strength from knowing I come from good Scotch-Irish stock. Sturdy women who can face hardships and keep on truckin’. I know there were others before her…and I have photos of her mother.

I’ll meet her one day. I will finally get all the answers to all my questions. Till then, I’ll hold Nellie May as the Leader of the Pack… the Alpha Female.

Welcome December!

❄️

“But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless.”
Titus 3:9 ESV

Sitting at the Cool Kids’ Table

Thu, 18 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I won’t say my childhood sucked, because there were some really great parts of it. But, due to some of the situations I was placed in as a child, my self esteem took a giant hit and I never felt like I was enough. Or, maybe I was “too much”. Whatever…I never really felt like I fit in. I had a tight core of friends. There were a few bullies. And, there were all these people who didn’t give me the time of day. I grew up thinking it was because they didn’t like me. I internalized it to mean there was something wrong with me.

It took me a long time, and a lot of therapy, to work my way through some unfortunate events of my youth. Living in Colorado, I never really faced any of the people I thought didn’t like me, save for the class reunion every five years. The reunions still felt…cliquish. I went to West Virginia every summer and only hooked up with my old group of high school friends. Nothing ever changed…until Mr. Virgo died.

There is nothing…absolutely NOTHING good about losing your spouse. However, you CAN find good in the rebuilding of a life. When I took off in that little camper to heal my grief one campfire at a time, I didn’t realize the ripple effect that period of intense mourning and introspection would have on other areas of my life. One of the most significant changes I made was letting go of fear.

Fear had been my constant companion since my early childhood. I saw things and experienced things children shouldn’t see or experience. You can’t unring a bell. I created unhealthy coping strategies because I was too young to know anything about…well, much of anything. When I lost Mr. Virgo and went into the wilderness alone, I had to sit with myself…talk with myself…learn from myself. As I worked on healing my grief, I also worked on healing that wounded child within.

That was some of the most amazing personal growth I’ve ever done and I came out of it an entirely different person. There’s nowhere I feel that more than when I’m hanging out with the “kids” I graduated with.

I had every intention of staying out at the farm last night, but two things happened. One, the little dorm fridge I bought for the farm didn’t keep the dinner I bought frozen. And, since it was fish, I figured I’d be eating bananas and Oreos for supper. Then, I got a message from a high school friend asking if I was coming to the restaurant to see her. I thought it was tonight. Turns out it was last night. So, change of plans.

It’s a forty mile drive to town from the farm and that’s forty West Virginia miles. I got there a little bit late, but there was a table full of 1971 graduates, just tucking into their meals and heavy into their stories. I ordered a Diet Coke and made my rounds greeting everyone. I finally found a seat near Ruthie…the gal that organized this little soirée. Ruthie recently moved back to West Virginia from Las Vegas. As I looked around the table there were only a couple of these beautiful people that I really KNEW in high school. The rest I’ve come to know as adults…simply because Mark Zuckerberg wanted to connect college students at Harvard and created Facebook.

I sat and watched as everyone told stories and laughed and it struck me. Here were a bunch of people that ran around in entirely different social circles as kids. Yet as adults, there is so much common ground…merely because we walked the halls of the same school at the same time. Our class has been particularly tight. I don’t know if it was the era we grew up in or what, but we bond easily the older we get. Maybe it’s just something that happens when we age. We are less concerned with petty differences and we’re here for the party now. Because we don’t know when the ball will drop.

Anyway, I had a blast catching up with these very cool people and I’ll look forward to seeing them again whenever I can. Hopefully we can actually hold our 50th reunion next year since Covid cancelled it this year.

You wanna know what I think is the best thing about being sixty-eight? EVERY table is the “cool kids’ table”!

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”
Proverbs 17:17 ESV

A Farm Fix!!!

Wed, 17 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

That’s me, standing where the house used to sit just after they moved it onto the new basement.

I had to go to town for a followup appointment with the endocrinologist to bring him up to speed with all that’s been going on with my parathyroid issues. The symptoms are the same and it’s obvious to everyone I need to get this thing taken care of. He said it’s like having termites in your house. You may not see much evidence, but behind the scenes the little suckers are busy and before you know it, the piano is in the basement. That’s what is happening with hyperparathyroidism. It is slowly leaching the calcium from my bones so the time is now to get to the bottom of it.

I woke up yesterday morning and told Mr. FixIt I needed a “farm fix”. I haven’t been able to stay out here as much as I would have liked this year…mainly because of all the traveling and medical appointments. There was always something going on. But I’m here now for a little R&R. I have a few new magazines to curl up with. I revel in the stillness here. No TV. Very little traffic. I am hoping to hear a lot of birds.

We are supposed to have a really warm day today, so I’ll sweep the zillions of dead ladybugs off the porch and sit out there with my coffee and my magazines and soak it all in. I love this place so much. I finished the memory book of the farm and ordered copies. I can’t wait to see it! It should arrive the 22nd or 23rd. They are having an 80th birthday party next month for one of my mom’s cousins. I’m going to take a copy to her. In one of the big group family photos, she is just a little girl holding a puppy in the front yard here at the farm. Her family lived down the road a mile or so. As a matter of fact, four out of my grandpa’s five brothers lived within two or three miles of each other most of their lives.

That’s something I marvel at. People have longevity here. My friend has been married all these years to the fella she started dating in 8th grade. They’ve lived in the same house within a block of where her husband grew up. When people announce they are nearing their 50th wedding anniversary, I jokingly say I’ve been married that long, too. It’s just been to four different men. I don’t know what that kind of “career marriage” would feel like. Or living in the same house, let alone the same city for all my life. I have made twenty-eight moves and have lived in thirteen different cities/towns in two states and two different countries. Change is all I know. I think that’s why I’m so flexible.

I am so happy to be where I am now. I love Mr. FixIt. We’re going on five years since we started dating, but it seems like so much longer since we’ve known each other since 1968. I love living in West Virginia. I love our little five acres in the country. And, I am so blessed I can still come and stay at the farm pretty much whenever I want. What a great barter…mowing in exchange for time here. It still gives me such a peaceful feeling to sleep in my grandma’s bed.

I may not have lived with the same person all my life, nor have I lived in the same house. But, this farm? This farm has been in my heart since the day I was born. This farm is what gives me that feeling of longevity, of steadfast love, of comfort….and peace.

This house still has the heartbeat of my family nestled in its walls.

“My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.”

Isaiah 32:18 ESV

The Queen of Soft Edges

Tue, 02 Nov 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I saw a picture of my friend Jack, sitting in the driveway surrounded by Trick or Treaters. He was in his element. Jack was my daughters’ psychology teacher in high school. He was our neighbor. He is friend to just about everyone he meets. He is a great storyteller. He’s colorful and deep and has an ever present smile. When I commented on the photo, I posted “King Jack, holding court!” He wrote back, “I am the king of soft edges and play, I think.”

I couldn’t agree more.

I got to thinking about that. I am proud to say I am a “Queen of Soft Edges”. I’m posting the accompanying photo to show the difference between then and now and how I got all those soft edges. You may have seen this picture floating around Facebook. It’s a reminder to the girls of today…we may be Boomers, we may be gray, but we were super cool…back in the day.

I mean…look at us. We owned the planet. We acted like it, anyway. Inside, we were more than likely a bowl of jelly…totally unsure of ourselves…all legs and hair and feigned coolness. I don’t know about you, but I had a whole boatload of sharp edges in my young adulthood. I wasn’t always empathetic. I was too often self centered. I had a lot of hurts and hurt people hurt people.

There’s a funny thing about the School of Hard Knocks. If you rap the edges of flint, you get sharp edges that cut like a knife. If you take a piece of marble, you can rap on it and shape it into something it isn’t…a statue…an imitation of something else. But, if you take sandstone, you can chip and nibble and sand away till it’s smooth and soft and lays in your hand gently.

We all go through the School of Hard Knocks to some extent. It’s what you’re made of that determines your outcome. You can change your make up at any time. You can give up being flint and having a cutting edge. You can give being marble and becoming something you aren’t. You can choose to be sandstone…like peachblow,for instance…glowing softly with lovely, smooth edges. Water rolls off. It’s strong enough to build buildings and soft enough to smooth with your hands. I like the idea of being a Queen of Soft Edges…among other things. I love that I am softer now. Life has knocked off most of my sharp edges and I go with the flow a lot easier than I used to.

We arrived safely in Columbus at around 5:00. I was not happy with the hotel I initially booked because it had the doors that open to the outside. I like a interior hallway for safety. I had reserved through the hotel.com app. You can make a reservation without paying up front. I went in and asked to cancel and told them why. The young man behind the desk directed me to a nice hotel just a little ways down the street. It was much better, and once they found out I am a patient oat OSU, they gave me a reduced rate that was better than the other hotel. Free breakfast, I get points for my stay, they gave me a full sheet of restaurants that deliver or have curbside service. We ordered soup and salad from Roosters and it was wonderful and affordable. This will be our go to hotel when I come here for medical services.

It’s supposed to get down to 29 degrees tonight! Time to get the warm jammies and fuzzy slippers out!

“Brothers, do not be children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature.”
1 Corinthians 14:20 ESV

What Happens When You Forget? You Forgive!

Mon, 13 Sep 2021 01:30:00 -0600

This weekend was a whirlwind of love and emotions and a little angst and a lot of laughs and huge doses of reality. Aging ain’t for sissies. Neither is watching your beloved brother decline more and more each time you visit. I couldn’t see him last year because of covid and, as you know, a lot of changes can come about in two short years. It was heart rending to see his condition, but I am so glad he’s moved into a place where there will be more assistance. We just need to have some productive conversations to delineate expectations for the future. These are not easy conversations to have.

After saying goodbye to the family members who came in for the party, we went to the store and bought my brother a charger for his phone. When we arrived at his new place, I discovered the charger didn’t fit, so I took it back. I had the phone with me and had to go to Walmart to get the right one. When I returned, I made sure the end fit his phone…big breath. Then I went to plug the other end in and realized we didn’t have the plugin piece for the USB. Grrrrr….back to the store and found one, brought it back to his place and got everything plugged in and charging.

There were hugs and promises to see him next spring and we made our way out to the truck. There were many friends I would have loved to visit when I was in town and there was one particular friend I really wanted to see. I envisioned driving by and just saying a quick hello, but it was getting late, we didn’t know if rain was coming or not, and we knew there would be Sunday afternoon traffic going back into Denver so I decided I’d just have to see her next time. She has twin daughters who are in the same program as my brother and when we walked out to our truck, there was Judy…parked right in front of us!!! Oh…I love how God delivers and gives us what we need!

We stopped and got coffee and they got the order wrong. We drove around the block and had them fix it. We stopped at the gas station, and hit the road. The devastation from the fire and floods in Glenwood Canyon were even more apparent heading east. That’s the side closest to the river and your view is clearer. It broke my heart to see the changes. It also was pretty awe inspiring to witness the power of nature to make permanent changes to the earth. This canyon will never look the same as we knew it, but future generations will stop at the rest areas and see educational plaques that tell of the raging fires and the devastation of a stationary set of monsoon rains that caused the draws to become roaring rivers of trees, boulders, and mud.

Traffic wasn’t bad. We toodled along, oohing and aahing over the glimpses of yellow as the aspen are beginning to change. I love the bright and cheery flashes of yellow and gold and almost-red that contrast with the deep green of the surrounding fir trees. All of a sudden, it hit me…I totally forgot to go visit Mr. Virgo’s grave! I spoke with others at different times over the weekend, pointing out Friday would have been his birthday. But there was so much going on with my brother that demanded my immediate care and attention…it never once even occurred to me to go to the cemetery.

I felt terrible. Like… “what is WRONG with me” terrible. I had every intention of going to the cemetery this trip…like I do every other trip. Finally, I decided to give myself a break. While this was a wonderful weekend with family, there were some things going on with my brother that were very upsetting. I was brokenhearted on the one hand, excited to see him and my family on the other. I was trying desperately to juggle everything without losing my cool. I was successful. I am sure Mr. Virgo would have been proud of the job I did this weekend. I know Mr. FixIt was. So, I cut myself a little slack and promised to go to the cemetery in May.

Life is hard enough without beating yourself up over things that sometimes get shoved out of busy brains and busy lives. God knows my heart. We’re good.

“fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10 ESV

Listen to Your Body

Sun, 15 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I abused my body for many years…eating poorly, yo-yo dieting, abusing substances, over-exercising. It’s coming home to roost, I’m afraid. I don’t know what triggered the hyperparathyroidism…genetics, lifestyle, environmental factors? Add that to simply aging and I have a few more difficult days than I used to.

Anyone over the age of say…60 knows things don’t work exactly like they used to. There are aches and pains in places where they never were before. It can be really frustrating when things don’t work like they did before. My friend Diane shared a picture of the two of us at our 45th High School Reunion that was held five years ago this weekend. She looks exactly the same. I have aged like crazy.

I’ve turned back the hands of time before through diet and exercise. I’m not sure if I can do it again, but I’m bound and determined to try. I remember heading into that reunion, I was in great shape. I was on my “clean and green” diet. I was walking nearly every day. I recorded my progress here on the blog. And, I was absolutely sure I would never let myself go again. I was sure I would keep the weight off.

The first thing that happened is, I got happy. Early this winter it will be five years since Mr. FixIt called me and asked me out to lunch. It didn’t take too many dates till we decided this was worth putting some time into and we soon became inseparable. And happy. And got married. And I put on weight that winter. I was tickled to death to sit in the house by the fire and knit and write and before I knew it, the jeans were replaced by leggings.

Then, Mr. FixIt had a stroke…with another one a couple months later. Then…the pandemic hit hard and we were in the house again…not by choice. Like so many others, I turned to my kitchen for comfort. I thought myself how to bake sourdough bread. I baked and baked and we ate and ate. I canned. I dehydrated. And ate and ate and ate some more. Now I weigh as much as I did when I delivered my children. My body is talking to me. It’s telling me to take better care of it…NOW!

Now, I know you can be a bigger girl and still be healthy, but I’m not. I’m slipping here and I don’t like it. I don’t think diet and exercise can reverse hyperparathyroidism, but I’m going to do my best to try to at least improve my health. It’s just so easy to put it on and not as easy to take off. Especially as you get older.

We ate light yesterday, and our evening snack was watermelon. I bought another one of those “cannonball” melons, but this one wasn’t quite as sweet as the one I bought last week. I think I’ll go back to the original produce stand (Witten’s) and get another of the really good ones and save it for our trip. I thought I’d show you an easy way to cut watermelon and get evenly sized pieces. I cut the stem and blossom ends off to create a flat surface. Then quarter the melon, and slice each quarter into one inch slices. It’s so much easier to handle that way.

I woke up yesterday at 4:00 and couldn’t get back to sleep because of a heavy thunderstorm. I was sleeping in the camper and…wow! If you’ve never experienced a West Virginia thunder and lightning show in a tin box, you really should. It’s pretty darned impressive. The day was hot in the afternoon…85 degrees for a little while. But, the rains broke that terrible heat and humidity we had last week and as I was writing this in the camper at 9:00 last night, the temperature was a very comfortable 74.

I took my evening walkabout and snapped some pictures. I caught a picture of a praying mantis near the camper. There was a bee enjoying a passion flower. And the flower on our Star of Bethlehem (or bush lily) is opening more blossoms. As I headed out to the camper to write in my “happy place”, the sunset was a beautiful, bright salmon color so I dropped everything to catch the loveliness before it was gone.

God paints landscape portraits every day of the year and then dims the lights on the exhibit every evening. How much of it do we take for granted without even looking? How much do we really “see”? How often to we stop and thank God for all the beauty around us? It is so easy to get sucked into every ugly news cycle and miss living the lives God wants for us. I’m making a commitment to engage more with relationships and nature and less the technology and distractions. I know I’ll be a happier camper!

“Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”
1 Corinthians 6:19-20 ESV

It’s the Dog Days of Summer

Fri, 13 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The Mystery Flower: Sun Star? Star of Bethlehem? Some kind of lily?

I am hoping against hope that yesterday was the hottest day of our summer here in West Virginia. When they tell you it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity…that’s pretty much true. The thermometer on the back of our house registered 103 at 4:00. Granted…that’s on a red brick wall on the west side of the house, but it’s under the eaves and out of direct sunlight. The humidity was only 63% but it felt like a sauna out there.

Mr. FixIt went to town to help a friend price some antiques before his yard sale this weekend, so I stayed home in the air conditioning and finished up the plans for our trip to Colorado. I found some really great places to camp and didn’t have a bit of trouble finding available campsites. That’s the beauty of camping in September and October…the kids are back in school and summer vacations are all but over.

As the sun began to slip toward the horizon, I went outside and took some pictures of this mystery plant that was here when I came onto the scene. Remember I told you it was all but dead in the basement and I emptied the two planters into a washtub along the fence? Well, they’ve gone crazy and now they’re blooming. The tallest blossom is as high as the fence! I ran a picture of it through a plant identification app on my phone (PictureThis) and it says it’s a Sun Star…otherwise known as a Star of Bethlehem. I’m not totally convinced, but it might be. Anyway, the flowers are beautiful. The plant is hardy. But, you do need to dig up the bulbs and store them in the basement over the winter.

I walked around the property as it got dark and suddenly, I started seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and there were bats swooping down all around me and that kinda freaked me out a little so I headed back to the pool where Mr. FixIt was sweeping and cleaning. All this hot weather has really made the algae go nuts so we need to get after it with some chemicals today. He asked me to go turn off the pump so I could back flush it. Well, as soon as I tried to turn it off, the switch broke right off! I was reaching the end of my rope by this point. It was still in the 90’s, I was sweating buckets, I was being chased by bats, and now I’d broken the pump switch.

It was getting pretty dark. I went in and got the head lamp and Mr. FixIt handed me a flathead screwdriver. I unplugged the pump, got down on the ground and managed to flip the switch back to the on position. When we plugged it back in, it turned right on. By this time, we had a hose running in the pool to bring the water level back up. We have had no rain to speak of in weeks and between that and all the back flushing, we were running pretty low.

I sat down on the deck. I could feel the sweat running down my cheeks and made a decision…it was time to turn off the lights and go skinny dipping! There is nothing more wonderful than slipping into cool water when the world feels like an oven and it’s making you act just plain nasty. My dear friends Janine Pettit and Lesa McDermott just finished rafting the length of the Grand Canyon. It was 114 degrees every day. The nights got all the way down to 99 and they slept with wet towels over themselves to try to cool down. I cannot imagine that kind of heat. That was an incredible life experience…one they were both glad they did with twenty other Girl Campers. But, they neither one have a desire to do it again.

Anyway, the pool felt wonderful and it was like that candy bar commercial where the grumpy guy turns nice again once his sugar level comes back up. I could feel my shoulders relax and the tension leave my body. Mr. FixIt and I floated around and talked about the stars and the Colorado trip and the news of the day. We watched the heat lightning off in the distance. Soon we were friends again and laughing.

It’s important to feed each other in life. To look out for each other. To fight fair. To talk nice. When you fall short…you say “I’m sorry”. Marriage shouldn’t be “hard work”. Like all things, living and loving can challenge us. The challenge is loving and forgiving and trusting with a great big sense of humor. It’s easy to get grumpy when the weather is hot and sticky and things break. So, take my advice…turn off the lights, drop your drawers, and jump in the water!

Stay cool, dear ones!

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.””
Genesis 8:22 ESV

Another Day…Another Doctor

Thu, 05 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I told Mr. FixIt yesterday…we are at “that age” now. When you have WAY more doctor’s appointments than you’ve ever had in your life. It makes me crazy. I wish we could sync everything and get all of our appointments out of the way in one week then we could go a long stretch without another one. But, unfortunately, that’s rarely how it works out when you are dealing with two people with different diagnoses.

I had an appointment a couple of weeks ago with a new endocrinologist. I am still dealing with the hyperparathyroidism that led me to have surgery in Florida in March. If you were following along at the time, I had an adenoma (and the parathyroid gland it was attached to) removed from my neck. The surgeon was only able to visualize the top two glands. The bottom two are somewhere in my chest imbedded in my thymus gland. That would be fine if my parathyroid hormone and calcium levels were normal. But, they aren’t. They’re elevated and that indicates I have at least one, if not more, adenomas.

Hyperparathyroidism is an invisible disease…except on paper, and in your body. The person suffering from it surely knows they have it by the symptoms. Diffuse, migrating pain. Hair loss. Extremely grouchy mood. Insomnia. Muscle cramps. Acid reflux and indigestion. Nausea and vomiting. Skin problems…itching, rashes, dry, cracked, peeling. Heart palpitations. Calcification of the arteries. Loss of bone density. Terrible brain fog. The list goes on and on.

If left unresolved, it can cut years off your life. Dana Delany, Garry Shandling, and Jamie Foxx all had hyperparathyroidism. It is actually among the most frequent endocrine diagnoses. I was so disappointed that the surgery was only partially successful. I made the decision not to go back down to Florida to the Norman Parathyroid Center. That’s a long way to go for testing and appointments when I can go to The Ohio State University. My appointment with a new endocrinologist surgeon is today, so I would love it if you could send some prayers and good thoughts…not only for safe travel there and back, but for a skilled and confident surgeon who can take care of business fairly locally.

I remember calling my mom years ago and every conversation was about her and my brother’s most recent trip to the doctor, what was wrong with them, and what medicine they’re now taking. I used to get so weary and frustrated that all she talked about was what was wrong. Now…now I have a lot more empathy for what she was going through and wish I would have been a bit more patient and insightful with her. Water under the bridge…however, I try not to vent my spleen every time I talk to my kids.

In the meantime…girls, it’s tomato season here in West Virginia. We stopped at my favorite greenhouse last night and bought four big, juicy tomatoes…fresh off the vine. We had tomato and mayo sandwiches (with a thin slice of ham on them) for supper last night. Oh, my…that’s heaven right there! I hope you are enjoying this first week of August as much as we are. I’m ready for another camping trip!

“But when he heard it, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”
Matthew 9:12 ESV

The Creature From the Black Lagoon

Mon, 26 Jul 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Remember that film from 1954? It was filmed in 3D black and white…allegedly a horror film about this slimy green creature that climbed out of the…well yeah…the Black Lagoon. I never found it particularly scary. I was mowing this weekend and thought maybe I had stumbled upon the creatures distant cousin…lurking in our field.

It was a patch of green slime mold. I have no idea how I knew but as soon as I saw it, I knew what it was. Maybe I saw it as a kid and my dad or PopPop told me. Anyway, I was kind of surprised to see it so I looked it up. It is actually called Nostoc and is a phylum of bacteria. It has chlorophyll so it gets its energy from the sun.

We have something like it growing out in the driveway that looks like greenish black grapes when we’ve had a lot of rain. You have to step carefully because it’s jelly-like and very slippery when wet. I ran over this with the mower so it was fresh and gelatinous. It’s found in poor drainage or hard compacted soil in areas that receive a lot of rain. That is West Virginia.

I was talking with the neighbor across the road from the farm about the changes we are seeing in West Virginia weather. We used to have long stretches of fairly dry weather here in late July through August. Known as the Dog Days of summer since that was the time of year rabies became more widely spread. The last few years have been so incredibly wet and the woods look like a tropical rainforest. Everything is so overgrown and dense. I’ve never seen anything like it here.

We had an incredibly busy weekend between traveling to buy the little camper and getting it home, moving Big Tow-Wanda out of the way and putting the little camper in her parking spot, mowing five acres, going to our great grandson’s second birthday party…we were totally done by last evening. So, we jumped in the pool, only to discover it needed a good cleaning. That’s the one cleaning job I never mind doing because…you’re IN the pool!

We are doing something interesting today. We are going to see an acupuncturist. Mr. FixIt can’t take arthritis medicine, so we are hoping for some improvement through acupuncture. I wonder if it helps hyperparathyroidism? I had an overuse injury to my hip back in the ‘80s. I tried everything…OTC medications, an orthopedic surgeon, massage, and chiropractic. Nothing helped. As a matter of fact…it got worse. Someone suggested acupuncture so I tried it. It took three sessions, but it was gone! Let’s hope we have the same luck for my sweet man.

Aging ain’t for sissies.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”
2 Corinthians 4:16 ESV

The Mysteries of Neurodiversity

Wed, 21 Jul 2021 01:30:00 -0600

My “Secret Garden”…my favorite spot here at home.

Neurodiversity. It’s probably not a term you are familiar with. More than likely, that’s because you are neurotypical. Neurotypical people are your everyday, garden variety humans that do things and feel things and say things like most people. But the human brain is infinitely varied and weird and wonderful. Instead of calling a neurodivergence a “disability”…we become more inclusive if we recognize each other as beautiful and profoundly human and as varied as a rainbow.

I’ve discovered, through some deep discussions with someone on the Autism Spectrum, I am probably a member of that club. Females on the spectrum have an easier time masking it. But I’ve always known I was a bit “different”. I don’t always make good eye contact when I talk to people. I pick up the accents and mannerisms of people around me. I am prone to anxiety and depression. I talk fast and loud…a lot! I’ve never, ever looked at these “quirks” as a disability. On the contrary…they are my superpower. I’m creative. I can be funny. I’m sensitive. I have a big heart. I see and experience the world in a different way. I think in analogies. It makes me a better writer. And a better human.

I stumbled across something the other day that gave me pause. Pathological Demand Avoidance. It’s a subtype of autism spectrum disorder characterized by a greater refusal to do what is asked of the person, even if it’s something they would normally really like to do. I’ve especially noticed this in myself since Mr. Virgo died. If something is my idea, and I have control over it, I’m ok. But, when someone asks me to do something…or I’m expected to do something…it automatically stirs my fight or flight response and I get very anxious.

This has caused me no end of self-recrimination. It’s made me feel weak. But, I’m telling you, just reading about it has flipped a switch…the light bulb went on. I wasn’t a bad person because I couldn’t go do something with the kids or help a friend. My brain just doesn’t process requests the same as everyone else. A request makes me feel trapped. Reading about PDA is enlightening…and freeing.

I’ve been using my time in TOW-Wanda this summer for self-reflection. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far…

“Normal” is just a setting on the dryer.

We all fall somewhere on a vast rainbow of diversity. Knowing this gives me a whole new level of empathy and curiosity and love.

“My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For if a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, “You sit here in a good place,” while you say to the poor man, “You stand over there,” or, “Sit down at my feet,” have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?”
James 2:1-5 ESV

They’re HERE!!!

Sat, 26 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

This was taken a long time ago…they’re 14 and 17 now!

OMGosh! Yesterday was crazy busy! When I went to town the other day, I totally forgot to take a water sample from the pool to check for the chemical levels. I really wanted to make sure everything was ok for the girls to swim, so I took a sample in yesterday. I have to say, I’ve never taken a sample in where they didn’t adjust something so I had to make a purchase. But yesterday, they checked the levels and said it was all good! So, one less thing to worry about.

A quick trip to Walmart to pick up some last minute things that I forgot on Thursday and I headed home. I still needed to change the sheets on our bed, dust and vacuum and put some things away. I also rethought the bed coverings in the kids room and ended up with an old chenille bedspread that I love. I felt it went better. And, I wanted the white coverlet on our bed for summer.

The kids got here about 5:30 and…I have to tell you…I cried as soon as I got a hold of them. I haven’t seen them in almost two years and they’ve grown so much. Also, I’ll bet it wasn’t 30 minutes and they were in the pool! Daughter #1 says that’s all they’ve been talking about for the last two months…they get to see Nana…and Nana has a pool! I guess a pool is big currency with teenagers! lol We grilled and chilled on the deck and visited and had a wonderful time.

I was so happy with the way the house looked and our hard work has paid off. But, the most important thing was getting hugs from my babes. Big is on two swim teams so she needs to get in the pool twice a day. We’re going to go out to the farm between swims today. I hope I don’t wake up and find this was all a dream!!!

This is one happy Nana!

“Love never ends….”
1 Corinthians 13:8 ESV

Positive Aging is a Mindset

Tue, 15 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

So, 68 years and 1 day. I don’t feel a bit different on the inside. I’m still younger on the inside, but I’d have to say...overall, I’m crushing this aging thing. I’m always doing something because there’s always something to do. That keeps you young! There is truth in the old adage “Use it or lose it.” I’m so happy to see Mr. FixIt feeling like getting up and moving and working hard. And, if he’s working...I’m working. That’s just how it works.

It was 87 degrees yesterday afternoon and I was out there trimming and pruning and cutting down trees. I moved three truckloads of trimmings to the burn pile. I cut down half a dozen maple trees. I trimmed this tunnel-like area where I drive the tractor when I’m mowing. Everything grows like a tropical rainforest here, so it needs to be cut back frequently. I cut that weed/plant/tree thing that was taking over the corner of the house. And I trimmed and pruned the crabapple and one of the pear trees.

I worked a half hour at a time and took breaks in the AC. I discovered this electrolyte powder called DripDrop that was designed by an ER physician to keep people from needing an IV. I’ve found if I drink at least one of those when I’m working in the heat, I do really well and I recover quickly. When we finally finished, I was going to jump in the pool, but I haven’t had the water tested yet this year so I decided to wait to make sure the chemicals are right.

Mr. FixIt finished mudding the drywall yesterday. So today he can sand it then paint. Once he gets that done, he can plumb the fixtures and put in the lights. I have an old medicine cabinet that I want to put in there to give it a country feel. A little trim work and he’ll be finished. In the meantime, the next three days are supposed to be much cooler. Our son-in-law is going to help Mr. FixIt with some projects around the yard tomorrow. And my bonus daughter will help me inside.

I’m feeling much better about things this week. I was struggling a little last week. Feeling a little overwhelmed. Feeling a little old. Feeling a little stressed and anxious. I know from past experience...if I get back to reading my devotionals every day and reading what the Bible says about what I’m going through, I always feel better. Because I know Jesus is big enough and strong enough to carry everything I give him. I just have to remember to give it and stop taking it back!

We are all a work in progress, aren’t we?

Even at 68!

“fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10 ESV

Another Trip Around the Sun

Sun, 13 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt has been asking me for a month what I want for my birthday. I told him my needs are few. I really wanted the outdoor movie theater for family gatherings. And I ordered that new food dehydrator. I’m sixty-eight years old. What on earth could I need? Clothes? I don’t think so. The pandemic has taught me I don’t need to dress up and go out to restaurants. We live in West Virginia. I live in comfort central.

I don’t need jewelry. I don’t need anything fancy. Flowers, maybe. Not cut flowers...but maybe some red geraniums to put in the pots along the fence. That might be nice. Mr. FixIt bought me a chocolate cake for my birthday. Chocolate cake is always good! My real birthday presents left Colorado yesterday and will be pulling in my driveway on June 25th! They have stops to make between there and here.

I had a blast with my high school friends yesterday. Fifty years it’s been since we graduated. I looked around the circle of faces and smiled. Many of us didn’t really know each other till we hooked up on Facebook. When I first moved back to West Virginia in 2014, I asked one of my friends here how often the gals meet for coffee. I was met with a black stare. It’s just not something they did. They were busy working and raising families. Well, I changed that in a hurry. And now we have our own Facebook group and...aside from the pandemic year...we have been getting together at least once a month and we all look forward to it.

After running a few errands, I came home and finished mowing. Mr. FixIt was mudding the drywall in the master bath, then he came out and ran the weed eater. It was hotter than blue blazes and he had to sit down on the steps of my old camper in the shade to cool off. I brought him a cool drink on a drive by on the mower. I mow under an umbrella shade on my mower and drink electrolytes while I work.

A cool shower and supper and we were done! As I went out to the camper last night to write, Mr. FixIt said, “We’ll take tomorrow off.” Then he immediately started listing things he really needed to do. lol It’s my birthday! I have chocolate cake and hamburger from Dick’s Market to grill. We have a pool to swim in. Maybe we’ll go for a drive. It’s supposed to rain. God provides me with all that I need...including a garden. What more could I want?

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”
James 1:17 ESV

#Birthday, #Gifts, #Present

On a Saturday Night in West Virginia

Tue, 08 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Roller Rink in Belpre, OH - photo by Harry Barnett

I was born in the Fifties and grew up in the Sixties. It was a fine time to be a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money and we didn’t really go out and do a lot of “stuff”...especially if it cost money. Most of our Saturday nights were either spent at home or at the farm with Grandma and PopPop. During the summer, Saturday wasn’t any different than any other day of the week, except for one thing. Saturday night was “Skate Night” for the cool kids.

I wasn’t...WAS NOT...one of the cool kids. My cousins were cool. I knew people who were cool. But somehow...I missed out on the cool gene. However, when the Stanley’s moved in down the street in the summer of ‘66, I found my partner in crime. Sharon was my age, in my grade. My very fist same-age friend. Everyone else in the neighborhood were either much older, or much younger. We soon became inseparable.

We did everything together. We rode bikes for hours. We took tennis lessons at the town park. We were awful, but we had fun at it. We explored the woods up on the hill above our houses. Even though I couldn’t swim and was terrified of water, we went to the pool and “laid out” in the sun. From first light, off we’d go whenever we could. As long as we were home by the time the street lights came on, we were good.

One of our favorite things to do was go to Cavalier Roller Rink. I was in awe of the older kids who could skate backwards and do spins and never fall down. We were used to those awful metal street skates you crunched down on your shoes with a key. Mine came from the Plaid Stamp store. I can still see them. They were shiny and had a foam pad on the ankle strap that was red plaid. We were really uptown in those, I’m telling ya.

Skating in rink skates was an entirely differently proposition. The floor was smooth as glass and the wheels met the floor with precision. Smooth....and slick as ice. We fell far more than we skated till we finally got the hang of it. I never did get to be a really great skater. I couldn’t spin or skate backwards, but I could skate arm in arm and in long conga lines. We played “Crack the Whip” which was deliciously terrifying when you were on the end of the line.

By the time we were teenagers, there was the typical posturing...trying to attract the eye of someone who interested you. Getting to skate with someone during the “Couples Only” skate was our loftiest goal. We most often sat that one out, munching on popcorn and soft drinks till we could get back out there and zoom around and around. I think back to those Saturday nights with great fondness. For several reasons.

One...I have a birthday coming up soon. Sixty-eight. How that happened...I’ll never know. But it’s been fifty years since we graduated from high school...fifty years ago today, to be exact. It’s been fifty years since I went to a roller rink, too. That’s ok...I don’t miss it. I just miss those days of not being reminded I have knees every time I stand up. I miss long summer days playing in the sun without a care in the world. I miss that feeling of hurrying down the street when you knew the streetlight would be on any minute. The sound of TV’s in people’s houses. The quiet conversations on front porches. The shouts of, “See ya’ tomorrow!”

There is a whole lotta space in the “dash” between then and now. A lot was done. Many accomplishments. Too many mistakes. A rich tapestry woven with the experiences we’ve all had over these last fifty years. We’ve postponed our 50th High School Reunion till next year due to the uncertainty of Covid over the last year. It takes a lot of money and planning to put on that show, and it would have been terrible to have to cancel. This way we have another year to take off some of this Covid weight! lol

I guess where I’m going with this is...my sweet friend Sharon isn’t doing very well right now. She has some pretty major health issues, then ended up with long haul Covid on top of it so she’s struggling to get better. She has a fighting spirit. After all, at church camp, we were notorious, as our theme song stated...

“We are the Night Owls, Mighty Mighty Night Owls, every where we go-oh, people want to know-oh, who we are, so we tell them....”

Please join me in lifting up my life-long, good time loving, slumber party giving, all night skating, best iced tea making, bike riding bunk mate in earnest prayer that the gifted doctors at Mayo Clinic will fix her up so she can get back to this wonderful life and we can finally go camping together!

I love you, Shubs. Please get well soon!

???

“A friend loves at all times......”
Proverbs 17:17 NIV

Getting Things Done and Making Big Decisions

Tue, 25 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Shredded Documents

We’ve been checking things off the master list of things to do here at the Ponderosa this spring. And, I’ve got to say...it feels pretty good. The end of the house that we painted and put a new storm door on looks great! The electric line over to the deck is going to come in very handy. We had the kids over Sunday evening and plugged a fan in and it made all the difference sitting out there. Plus, the market lights are so pretty.

New Paint and Doors

Mr. FixIt had things to do in town today and I elected to stay home and get some things done here. I had all kinds of plans, but ended up sitting for five hours shredding documents. We’d been putting it off, and since I’ve been doing some deep cleaning and organizing, today was the day. I still have some to do, but managed to get the most of it done. Now, to file the papers that weren’t shredded. Oy! The work of life is never done, is it?

Irises Blooming

I remember when I was a new widow, sold my house and 95% of personal belongings...I felt so incredibly free and liberated. There was none of this accumulating, organizing, cleaning, purging, and re-accumulating that life seems to be filled with. My time was my own, to come and go as I pleased. Now, my time is full....but I’m incredibly happy. Not so much with the clutter, but we’re dealing with that...slowly, but surely.

A Room Always Looks Worse Before it Looks Better

Change has been a big focus in our lives the last few weeks with the sale of the farm. And, it has come to change our priorities in a way I didn’t expect. For the last couple of years, we’ve been giving serious consideration to selling the Ponderosa and moving to our acre lot near town. The driving had become cumbersome, and the responsibilities and upkeep seemed to loom large as we begin to wind down toward our sunset years.

The Butterflies are Coming Back

Living near town had great appeal to me. Our friends and family are there. We’d be closer to medical facilities and shopping. And our outdoor chores would be minimal compared to here. However, knowing the farm was always there to commune with nature and get our “country fix” made it easier to think of letting this property go. After going through what I’ve experienced with the farm selling, I gained a greater insight to Mr. FixIt’s attachment to this place.

Mama Box Turtle in the Far Field

I know how I feel losing my lifetime home. This weekend when we were driving home from mowing at the farm, I asked him how committed he was to selling out and building on our other property. He’s lived here on the Ponderosa for 45 years or so. That’s a long time to put down roots. We discussed all the pros and cons and what it would take to even get the lot ready to build a house on....all huge considerations.

Milkweed...Waiting on Monarchs

In the end, we’ve decided to just stay put where we are for the time being. For a lot of reasons, really. Neither one of us are ready to give up farm life yet. I love waking up to the neighbor’s rooster. I love the mockingbirds in the hedgerow and the lightning bugs in the field. I love the little town we live close to. I love having a garden and a pool and a place to see the stars. I especially love having a place to “camp” on our own property. It’s what I moved to West Virginia for in the first place...to live in the country.

The Near Field by the Road

Mr. FixIt agrees. This is home to him. And, somehow...after going through the farm selling...it’s suddenly become more “home” to me, too. Besides, Covid showed us we don’t need to drive to town as often as we were...merely out of boredom. We’ve saved money on gas and dining out and extra shopping. And, we’re getting this place fixed up and more like “ours” and less like “theirs”.

Sunset Over the Far Field

I’m feeling more settled this week than I have in a long time. Having the sale of the farm dangling over my head for the last few years has been difficult for me....like waiting for the ax to fall. Now that it’s here, I know where home really is. It’s wherever we are...so, it might as well be here because it’s what we are blessed with. Sometimes the best things in life are right under our noses.

“By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.”
Proverbs 24:3-4 ESV

The First Day of Spring...2021

Sat, 20 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

This is the day I yearn for from the first frost. I’ve actually done better with winter the last two or three years. I’ve kept myself busy with lengthy projects that need time and attention and it keeps my mood lifted. The time always seems to pass quickly when you are engaged in something you love. But, when this day comes, I always feel a sigh of relief and a weight...however imperceptible...lifts from my shoulders.

I took the advice of you good people (and some close friends in the medical field) and did nothing yesterday but relax in my recliner and heal. And I felt much better for it. My friend Ellie reminded me we only have so much vital energy and we need to use it to heal. If we use it on other things, we don’t have any left for our body to do the hard work of repairing itself. She gave me the example of what people say when they’re doing too much... “I was feeling so much better, then....” Thank you, Ellie. Your gentle reminder was well received and I feel your love and hugs and prayers all the way from Florida.

One of the first things I saw on Facebook yesterday was this quote from Eleonora Duse, an Italian actress who rivaled Sarah Bernhardt in the late 19th Century. My friend Becky tagged me because she knows this is MY best day, so I needed to share it with you. When I drive out the little 2-lane country roads and see the grass green up along the ditches and creeks, my heart soars. When the crystal clear blue skies bless me with sunshine on my cheeks, I take a deep cleansing breath. Thank you for thinking of me, Becky. When God turns the page on another season and the earth comes alive...so do I.

I remember thinking to myself in March of 2013...if Mr. Virgo had to die, I thanked God it was at the beginning of spring and not the beginning of winter. I took my little camper into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months and started to heal my broken heart...one campfire at a time. Nature cradled me in warmth and sounds and smells that soothed my spirit and helped me walk through the fires of grief without being burned alive. I was ever so grateful for that because I know full well it would have been a different story six months later during a Colorado winter.

I don’t really have anything on my schedule until April Fool’s Day so I’m going to take my time resting and healing the next couple of weeks. After the way I felt Thursday, I think I have a greater appreciation of the way aging effects recovery from illness, injury, or surgery. Things just don’t work like they used to. I don’t really begrudge that. Aging is a natural part of life and it’s not like I can’t do what I really want to do. I just have to adapt and approach things a little more slowly and carefully now....especially until my bones build up with calcium again after surgery. I have too many things to do than to have a broken hip or something.

So, my lovelies...may you have a wonderful First Day of Spring. I hope you get outside and enjoy some fresh air, and hopefully some sunshine, and lift your hearts with joy.

“Winter is past, the rain has stopped; flowers cover the earth, it's time to sing. The cooing of doves is heard in our land.”
Song of Songs 2:11-12 CEV

Day 361: A Room With a View...and an Omission

Sat, 13 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

We both slept pretty well the night of surgery so we awoke yesterday morning refreshed. I felt much stronger, but I had no voice. This often happens after being intubated. We managed to get up in time to catch the morning breakfast in the Starbucks in the hotel lobby. Hot oatmeal really soothed my throat. And I have to say...a cold brew coffee didn’t cause my stomach to revolt like it did before surgery so let’s hope I can drink coffee again! I love it so.

There was no one in the dining area and we were quite a ways from the front lobby. We sat down at a table in the window and, with great trepidation...removed our masks to eat. It felt...weird. We didn’t have a hallelujah moment, because we understand science and we know we are in an area with lots of mutant virus and mask-shunning individuals. I must say, everywhere we’ve gone, people have worn masks. Until, Walmart. We’ll get to that.

We didn’t dilly-dally around maskless. We finished eating and headed up to the room to pack for the move to the next hotel. I have to give kudos to the Courtyard Tampa Downtown for the first half of our stay. They work closely with the Norman Parathyroid Center in housing their patients before and after surgery and they couldn’t have been more accommodating. When I checked out, the front desk asked how my surgery went and was very sweet. Anything we needed when we were there, it was quickly brought to us. They were so professional and attentive and the rooms were impeccable.

Our trip to the new hotel was about 45 minutes. The weather in Florida right now is absolutely amazing! Just hot enough to warm your bones but not so much as to fry your brains. The app for the hotel has an interesting new covid creation built in. You can check in through the app on your phone and when your room is ready, a digital key turns green. You just walk up to the door with your phone in your hand and click “unlock” and the door...unlocks! Same with your room. This is really handy to minimize your contact with people in a pandemic.

I love our room! We have a suite with a separate bedroom so I can take quiet naps and close the door when I write. No more trying to block out the sound of the television while I’m trying to concentrate. We have a small kitchen and the furniture in the living room is perfectly comfortable. We did our routine sanitation process upon arrival, but when I tried to put the fitted sheet back on the bed, it was one of those that doesn’t have a deep pocket. I knew if I had trouble even getting the sheet on, that we would be fighting to keep it on for the next five nights. We decided, since we needed to pick up some groceries, we would just buy a set of sheets that we know would fit. We can always use them on the bed at the condo so it’s not a waste.

Now, Walmart. This was the first place we went to down here that was an indication of how people really feel about mask wearing. Since we are in a hodgepodge of people from all over the country, we were well aware of our surroundings. Mr. FixIt started to say something to those who didn’t have on masks, but I gently reminded him where we are and that I really don’t want to get killed this close to having surgery. We wore double masks and just steered clear of the unmasked folks and got the heck out of there as fast as we could. We came home and put the groceries away and both stretched out for a much needed rest.

I can’t believe how wiped out you feel after surgery. They say the third day is the worst, and that’s what I’ve usually found to be true. We’ll wait till Monday to explore the beaches and let the weekend crowd thin out. Although, we are into spring break now, so who knows. We have a pool here, but I am not sure it’s outside. We’ll play it by ear. It’s nice to not have a distinct plan in place.

And now, for the omission. Yesterday marked eight years since Mr. Virgo died. I’ve been so busy with the trip arrangements and the surgery, that I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. My dear friend Deneene texted me first thing yesterday morning to tell me she was thinking of me. My first thought was my surgery. Then she asked if it was Mr. Virgo’s Angelversary. It’s not that I forgot. I certainly didn’t. I’ve thought of it a number of times in the last couple of weeks. As a matter of fact, when they offered me the 11th for my surgery, I thought it couldn’t be more fitting. A year since the start of the covid crisis. And eight years since Mr. Virgo’s death. Having this surgery is an offer of hope for a healthier, pain free life. Why not have it done during a time that would normally be remembered with solemn sadness? Why not bring an element of hope into the darkness. We have vaccines. We have healing. We have hope for a better tomorrow.

This is what eight years of grief and healing have taught me.

Life is uncertain...and way too short.

In the midst of the worst crisis of our lives, we still have a choice...and choices bring power.

Time softens the memories of acute grief. It gives us space from the horrific anguish.

You never get over an epic loss...but, you do get through it. You learn to walk around that hole in your heart without falling in every time.

I’ve learned it’s ok to be happy again and to find a life again and to love again without forgetting the person you still love who isn’t here.

There is room in a new marriage for the memories of those you love and have loved before, but it takes a strong man to marry a widow...a confident man who knows his place in your heart and isn’t threatened by ghosts.

I am so blessed to have found such a man in Mr. FixIt. He is my rock and my roll.

“Most important of all, you must sincerely love each other, because love wipes away many sins.”
1 Peter 4:8 CEV

Day 359: Adulting 101

Wed, 10 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Dinner at Chez McKinney...table for two!

I can stay in for days and days at a time and find plenty to do. But, once I had my pre-op Covid test yesterday, they gave me a little instruction sheet. It said ...”Go straight home and stay there till you come to the hospital for surgery.” Are you kidding me??? I’m in FLORIDA. It’s 70 degrees and sunny! Waaaaaaaah....SO not fair. Well, ok...the adult in me says I surely wouldn’t want to come this far and run the risk of getting sick and not being able to have my surgery. That would be stupid. So, I’m sucking it up and putting on my big girl panties. *sigh*

That’s not the only adult thing I’ve done lately. I mean...we both have our vaccines. We’ve made wills. And...I placed our very first DoorDash order last night!!! I think that makes us certified grownups. Or was that when we got our first AARP card? Hard to know. All I know is, this all feels really good. Like we’re finally making great strides towards a new normal. And we had Outback delivered to our hotel room. We can’t get that at home...we live too far out in the country. It’s probably a good thing. We’d go broke, we’d get fat, and I’d never cook again!

As I sat down to write last night, I heard a train in the distance. I love that sound...it takes me back to my childhood when I’d hear the trains going up and down along the Ohio river a few block from our house. Then, when I built my house in Western Colorado, I could hear the trains on the other side of the hill behind our house...their lonesome whistle signaling the one place where traffic crossed the tracks. When I lived in my camper up by the river, the trains came by on the other side of the field and I could feel the rumble of their passing in my chest. Visiting Sue in the Denver Metro area always brought trains in the middle of the night and I found them comforting. As a matter of fact, there have only been two places I’ve ever lived where trains weren’t present in my everyday life...out on the farm...and on the Ponderosa.

As the train came closer, Mr. FixIt pulled the curtain back in our room and....there it went. Slowly rolling past the parking lot outside our window in Downtown Tampa. I love that sound. It takes me home.

When is adulting easy? When we are too young to understand the full scope of the responsibilities we are juggling...or, when we’ve had enough hard experiences that our vision is a little more acute? I guess adulting is what we make of it. If we don’t win, we learn....and that’s really winning in the long run, isn’t it.

“Love should always make us tell the truth. Then we will grow in every way and be more like Christ, the head of the body. Christ holds it together and makes all of its parts work perfectly, as it grows and becomes strong because of love.”
Ephesians 4:15-16 CEV

Day 355: Tackling the Lists

Sat, 06 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I had one job. Well, that’s not really true. I had a zillion and one, but my only “outside of the house” job yesterday was to stop the mail and return a package. Easy enough. Both at the Post Office. I finished and went to Dollar General to pick up a couple of things. (I forgot the toothpaste.) I came home and cleaned the fridge, washed the dishes, and took out the trash. I sat down to send a couple of emails when Mr. FixIt came in. And, as soon as I saw him, I expressed an expletive of utter frustration. He looked back at me with that, “What did I do now?” look that husbands often give their frazzled wives.

“I forgot to stop the mail!”

Oh, I do hope this surgery helps my poor foggy brain. I know, I can stop the mail online, but the last time I did that, we came home and went to pick up our mail and they said we hadn’t received any...which I find incredibly hard to believe. But, what could I do? I went back online and signed in to our USPS account and stopped the mail for the duration with explicit instructions that we would be picking it up at the Post Office upon our return. Who knows? I hope they do it right.

My stepson came out yesterday to see us and brought his old lab, Bailey, out to see us. Pumpkin, our fairly wild farm cat apparently things she is a panther. Poor Bailey. She has kitties at home and Pumpkin has never seen a dog up close and personal, especially one that moseyed right over to give her a friendly sniff. That cat went right after the dog with absolutely NO fear. We were able to keep her away then I got her spray bottle and spritzed her every time she lunged. I finally corralled her in the building so that I could sit down and relax, as well. We went for a walkabout down to the creek. It has gone back to its normal state. Sometimes the storms wash up some old arrowheads or flint pieces, but we didn’t find any this time.

I finally sat down at 8:30 last night to write. I got a link from my friend, Joe Webb who interviewed me and it went live yesterday. His podcast is Accidental Tomatoes. It talks about matters of faith and is an offshoot of New Wineskins, a combo Bible Study, Pub Church, and social gathering that I attended for several years. I’ve spoken to this group a couple of times.I really love the diversity of topics as well as attendees. They seem to be a mixed bag of folk who are leery of or burned out on mainstream churches. Joe is an ordained Methodist pastor and leads the group via Zoom now and it’s grown considerably since then.

If you’ve been following me for a long time, you probably have heard much of this story, but if you are so inclined, you can find the podcast HERE.

“We make our own plans, but the Lord decides where we will go.”
Proverbs 16:9 CEV

Day 351: The Walkabout and a Missing Pie

Tue, 02 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

See, this is why I don’t bake the good stuff...I eat it. We polished off that whole apple pie in little more than twenty-four hours. It’s ridiculous....but OH SO GOOD. Life is short, right? Eat dessert first. Use the good dishes. Wear that hat. Don’t wait for a special occasion. TODAY is the special occasion!

Yeah, I know...I’ve worked in medicine long enough that I should be encouraging you all to eat right and exercise and stay fit and live forever. And, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure I’ll get back to that really soon. After all, mowing season is coming and I’ll be working my butt off again. But, I’m not going to beat myself up over a few pounds gained because, dang it...it was a pretty rough year. And, by golly, we made it through! There is something to celebrate there, I think.

Being good to yourself isn’t always about doing all the right things. Sometimes it’s about doing the right things for you...right now. The “right things” change with the season and the seasons of life are not defined by the elements or the months or the time the sun sets. The seasons of life are noted when you feel the paradigm shift and the earth moves under your feet. You feel it when your world shakes you and wakes you and you ride every wave till you’re spent. You feel it when your heart breaks open and spills on the ground. And, sometimes you feel it when you hear the water rushing in a full creek or peepers in the holler. This is what living close to the ground has given me. I feel my roots so deep in the West Virginia red clay mud.

I love when Mr. FixIt and I go out and walk the land we own. It changes every day. We’ve heard hawks screaming in the surrounding trees. We’re convinced they’ve been feeding on the moles and voles sticking their little heads up from the saturated ground because we see the holes in their tunnels. I love the way the fog starts rolling in as the sun sets. It rolls like a carpet, spreading out from the creeks and settling in the low places.

There are more and more migrating birds showing up. I haven’t taken time yet to sit and watch the feeders to identify them, but I hear their calls in the morning when I awaken. The window is always left open and the flowering quince and forsythia are just outside our bedroom. I love to hear the world wake up from its quiet slumber. We still haven’t had thunderstorms yet, but they’ll be coming before long. We have a stretch of sunny yet cool days coming, then warming up by next weekend. These are the days I love the best in West Virginia.

When life is good...it is very, very good.

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.””
Genesis 8:22 ESV

Day 347: Fauci Ouchie 2.0

Fri, 26 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

We did it! We got our second vaccines yesterday and the feeling of relief nearly brought tears to my eyes. It’s not over by a long shot. We still need to wear masks and keep doing what we’ve been doing because...we could carry the virus to others. The vaccines are 95% effective, so there is still a chance of catching Covid, however small. We are a long, long way from herd immunity, so the more of us who get the vaccine...the quicker life can get back to normal.

I will repeat this here, in case there are negative comments forthcoming. I am not afraid of Covid...but I sure do have a healthy respect for its capacity to wreak havoc with your health and end your life. I do not live in fear. I rest in knowledge. There is NOT a biochip in it. No one is going to try to control my mind. It is not the mark of the devil. It’s a vaccine...period. I’ve been vaccinated for a dozen different diseases in my life. This is no different.

I am SO grateful for the scientists who did the research in the decade leading up to the pandemic. Something like this was inevitable, although it certainly could have been handled better from the get go. I think a lot of lives could be saved. But, this is where we are now...this is what we have to work with. If they have to create boosters for variants...fine. I’ll take those, too. I am not afraid. This is what I did for a living...clinical pharmaceutical research coordination. I trust the science.

My friend Diane got her shot yesterday morning and she called me to warn me about what to expect. When we went for our first shot, it was the first vaccine clinic. We got in and out in record time...far under an hour. We were supposed to go back last Thursday, but the clinic was canceled due to snow. So, this week they were not only doing #2 shots...they were also doing #1 shots and all the people they had to reschedule from last week. It was crazy.

They directed us into short parallel lines in the parking lot. Then, one row at a time was directed out to join a long line that circled the parking lot, swung around and looped through to the second lot. At that point, we were given a clipboard to fill out our information and walk into the clinic. Inside was very quick and simple. We were directed to the first empty table. Our information was recorded, and we were directed to the inner room. There, a volunteer took us to a table where someone was seated with a line of vaccines in front of them.

In our case, we had a nice young doctor from the clinic in our small town. Because I have a history of an allergic reaction to a medication, I had to carry a pink card with me and wait an extra 15 minutes afterward. We carried on conversations with others seated nearby and the time passed quickly. Our appointment was at 3:24 and we walked out the door at right around 6:00. A lot longer than the first time, but thanks to Diane, we were prepared with snacks. And I took my knitting with me. It was really quite pleasant. Any time I get to sit and chat with my fella is a good day!

We went to Sam’s afterward and picked up some groceries and stopped for a salad from Wendy’s on the way home. I took a couple of Extra Strength Tylenol and hopefully that will take care of it. By evening, I could feel that I’d had the injection...just like the first one. I’ll let you know what side effects, if any, that we experience.

This is a huge step in getting this under control. It feels good to do something that will benefit us all!

“Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”
1 Corinthians 6:19-20 ESV

Day 331: Lost Time...Or Gratitude? You Choose!

Wed, 10 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve been feeling a sense of loss lately and couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Although it felt familiar, it seemed like it was attached to something filed away in the deep recesses of my mind. It resembles grief, but not the deep grief I experienced losing Mr. Virgo. It’s more like the feeling I had after a different life altering event...my overdose.

We’ve talked about that here in the past. It happened January 6, 2000...but it was a long time coming. There were seven long years of clinical depression, medical mismanagement, and self-medicating that led up to that sentinel event. And when I came out the other side, it was like waking up from a decade-long medically induced coma. I quite literally lost most of my late thirties into my early forties. I came out feeling robbed of my best years. I mourned that loss for quite some time.

The loss of Mr. Virgo caused a different type of grief, yet I still felt robbed of the future we had planned. Robbed of my partner, my standard of living, my understanding of who I was. It seems I had barely rebuilt my life from the overdose, when I had to rebuild it again because he died.

This is not nearly as intense as either of those, yet of enough import as to mention it here. One of the hardest things about hyperparathyroidism is the length of time it takes to get a diagnosis. The symptoms are so easily dismissed by doctors as being all in your head. I mean, really...who complains of pains that migrate from your left foot to your right arm to your left calf, etc? Getting forgetful? Well, you’re of a certain age now...it’s to be expected. Cranky? Hey, you’re post-menopausal. All women get that way. Can’t sleep? Hey, join the club. It goes on and on.

You truly have to be your own health advocate when you deal with the medical community. There are ways of approaching doctors that don’t insult them and make them feel you don’t trust their opinion. And, if they do get all that huffy, then you end up changing doctors and start the process all over again. I read a source yesterday that said the average time from the onset of the symptoms of hyperparathyroidism and the diagnosis and required surgery is 8+ years. It would be easy to feel robbed of those years that you could have been feeling better, if only your doctor would have listened to you and checked your parathyroid hormone. Eight long years. At this stage in the game, when there are less years ahead of my next birthday than there are behind it, that is significant.

I sat and contemplated that yesterday and looked for the silver lining. There’s almost always a silver lining. I think the biggest is the advancements in the surgery involved to removed a parathyroid tumor. If I would have had this surgery even ten years ago, it would be a major ordeal. The incision used to be at least four inches long, and sometimes a vertical incision was added creating a huge upside down, T-shaped scar. The surgery might take three or four hours making it a major ordeal. The risks were huge with a surgery like that. It wasn’t uncommon to clip the nerve to the vocal chords and cause you to lose your voice, or...God forbid...both nerves causing paralysis of the voice box. Then you’d have to have a tracheostomy in order to breathe. Not good!

Another benefit is, we caught it now...and not ten years from now. This is not an innocuous disease. It robs calcium from your bones, can cause kidney, heart and liver damage, and shorten your life by many years. I don’t believe I’ve had hyperparathyroidism longer than four years or so. Granted, over those four years, my symptoms have continually gotten worse, but...through my medical knowledge, understanding and self-advocacy, and through the sharp mind of a wonderful nurse practitioner...I’m ahead of the game.

Yes, I could feel robbed of precious time, but I’ve learned from the past, that doesn’t serve me. Being grateful for what you do have, and what you DON’T have, keeps your mind in the right place. It doesn’t help a bit to live in the past. And now that I know what this is, and that there are so many others who suffer from it, I can be an advocate and an educator. And that puts me in a much healthier stance. Always looking forward in gratitude and with hope.

Read more about hyperparathyroidism HERE.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
James 1:17 NIV

Day 323: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Tue, 02 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

What do you get a guy who has EV.ERY.THING? Mr. FixIt’s birthday was yesterday. We don’t go overboard on things like that but I always want to give him something I know he will enjoy. We aren’t traveling till after the next covid vaccine and I get my surgery in Florida. We don’t dine out in restaurants. And the day was snowy, icy, and cold so we weren’t going anywhere anyway.

A few months ago, one of our granddaughters got her first job as a dental hygienist. She has a large window in front of her dental chair, so she bought a clear plastic bird feeder that attaches to the window with suction cups. As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to get one for my sweetheart. He LOVES his birds. He faithfully fills the feeders and he’s always pointing out what variety of bird is frequenting the smorgasbord on the Ponderosa. When I gave it to him yesterday morning, he had it filled and mounted on the window before I could get breakfast ready.

After scrambled eggs and fried potatoes, the phone rang over and over all day with birthday greetings. Our great granddaughter even called and sang the sweetest Happy Birthday to her Papaw. Around 4:00, my stepson and his youngest came over with...get this...a steak dinner from Texas Roadhouse! Now...THAT was a treat!

I miss dining out. I miss spending time with family and friends. I miss traveling. But, we have more money in the bank. We have more frequent and meaningful conversations with our kids than we used to. And, we’re healthy...and home...safe and sound. There will be other days when we can be more free to do spontaneous things, but we’ll have lots of birds to watch outside our windows in the meantime.

The real highlight of the day came in the form of a late Christmas present from my son-in-law’s mom. Sue and I are very close and chat every night before bed. Sometime in the last few months, she mentioned they had watched the video of our kids’ wedding. I told her offhandedly that I’d love to have a copy of that because I couldn’t remember it very well. You see, those were the Prozac years and I lost a whole decade of memories. Sometimes I have snippets of memory. Other times, it’s like someone told me about it, but I wasn’t really there.

Mr. FixIt brought the mail in and said, “I think you got something from France. It says “fra-JEE-lay” on it. He smiled as he handed me the small brown envelope.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Goofball.” We both laughed.

It was the first half of my Christmas present from Sue. She told me it was coming late, so when I saw her return address, my curiosity was piqued. Inside was a DVD...of the wedding! I squealed and handed it to Mr. FixIt and asked him to put it in right away so we could watch it. You have to understand...this wedding was twenty-five years ago...two husbands ago...my baby was five...my beautiful firstborn was stunning...and seven very important loved ones are gone now, including my mom. I was doing a serious walk down memory lane here.

I kept leaning in to see if I could hear their voices. I wanted to catch every smile...every nuance of the people I’ve loved all my life. A tear slowly made its way down my cheek. My God...we were so YOUNG. The wedding was lovely...much lovelier than I remembered. I forgot we had live musicians from the Aspen Music Festival playing. I forgot Sue’s sister sang “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” (It was the era of The Lion King.) I forgot my nephew was just a toddler and my niece hadn’t been born yet.

I was glad to see that the wreck I was inside didn’t show on the outside. I looked like the poised mother-of-the-bride...taking it all in stride. But my anxiety was off the charts that day as it often was (and sometimes still is) when I am doing something stressful. My daughter still says that wedding was for me, not for her. I was always far too over involved in her life...by my own admission. She was the coolest kid. She was beautiful, self-assured. She had the high school life I only dreamed of...cheerleader, choir, theater, honor roll. I wasn’t mature or together enough to back off and let her enjoy it. I had to live it vicariously. It took a long time for both of us to understand...for me to apologize...and for her to forgive.

As I watched that day so long ago unfold in front of me, I was so proud of all of us for getting through the tough times that lay ahead...that we couldn’t even imagine at that point. I was so proud to see that those two young kids have built a beautiful life together and have been married for over twenty-five years now. It was a beautiful day...then and now. A beautiful gift. A beautiful birthday with this wonderful man. A beautiful life. A beautiful walk into my past.

“For through wisdom your days will be many, and years will be added to your life.”
Proverbs 9:11 NIV

Day 322: The Path to The Past is Long

Mon, 01 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I can see that I am going to need to put a little structure into my time spent chasing rabbits down the pathways to my past. If not, I could very easily sit myself down in my big comfy chair and never get up. It is not lost on me that my mom developed the pulmonary emboli that killed her by sitting in her recliner, day after day, doing genealogy research. I believe I will need to assign certain hours as acceptable research time. The rest needs to be spent on something more physical and productive in order to maintain good health.

That being said, I spent an extraordinary amount of time the last couple of days clicking on little green leaves and chasing innumerable “hints.” These are generated by the research of others as well as the algorithms of the website itself. You can’t just click and accept, either. You have to take some time and evaluate whether the information actually matches your ancestor or not. It’s tedious, time consuming, and definitely gives my mental faculties a good workout. Now, if I could just figure out a way to make it an aerobic activity, I’d hit the jackpot.

One of the most frustrating things in genealogical research is when you hit a dead end and there just isn’t any more information. I’m at that point on a particular 2nd Great Grandfather. They had a huge family with something like seventeen kids. Now, add spouses and their own big families and it amounts to TWO three inch thick volumes of The Nutter Family History. Right now, I can’t put my hands on my mom’s copies. I believe they are at the farm and I need to go out and get them. I need to do some laundry this week anyway, so maybe I’ll make a little sojourn out there for a couple of days.

I haven’t found anything too terribly exciting yet. Mostly just documents that support what I’ve already done. But I believe there has been a release of census data since I last did this because I’m finding a big influx of that. You can find a huge amount of information on families if the census asked the right questions. For instance, in the early 1800’s, census takers literally just counted heads, male...female...and, unfortunately, race/freedom. More modern census takers asked for names, ages, what their role and relationship was to the head of the household. It listed whether they were in school and sometimes asked the highest grade completed. (My maternal grandparents didn’t go past 8th Grade, yet they put every child but one through college.)

Delving back into this research is relaxing. And, I have to say, the level of peace I’m feeling these days is remarkable. It hasn’t hurt that I unfollowed, snoozed, or blocked any number of people on my personal Facebook page in the last few months. When you have nothing much more than a “Happy Birthday” relationship with someone you likely will never go out of your way to spend time with...when you have someone who expounds ugly, angry political rhetoric on every single post they make...when you find your blood pressure rises every time you see their name come across your page...seriously, it’s ok to step back and re-evaluate. It’s ok to take a break. And, it’s ok to unfriend and even block people if they’re just plain making your life miserable. Life is seriously WAY too short for that. That being said, I have friends with differing political opinions that I genuinely care for and I maintain a connection for any number of reasons. We’re an odd bunch, humans.

Speaking of odd, a few years ago I was helping reach out to my fellow high school classmates to encourage them to attend the next class reunion. One particular fellow I reached wasn’t on Facebook. I encouraged him to come on and join us so we could all catch up with each other. I have a robust circle of friends from our graduating class that I sincerely enjoy. This guy was a little...odd in his response. He asked why on earth he should join something that would be able to track his every move for the rest of his life. I poo-pooed the whole thing and thought it was just a little bit more than crazy. Then, I watched 60 Minutes last night.

First, their story about the bereaved of Covid just broke my heart. I will forever have tenderness for those who grieve the untimely loss of their beloveds. Then, the subject switched to...of all currently relevant things...the popularity of DNA testing under the auspices of genealogical research. There is so much more going on in the back side of that...namely genetic and pharmaceutical/biomedical research. It went on to discuss security breaches, computer hacks, and the role China is playing in the race to win the next “space race”...the acquisition of DNA, genomes, and the resulting data. It is more than a little disconcerting to hear about the real probabilities of “Big Brother” and the data we’ve already essentially given away.

Well, at this point, my DNA is out there. So is the DNA of my children and grandchildren... simply because I spit in a test tube to find out where my ancestors came from. We really have no idea the impact what we do today will have on the future. It’s anybody’s guess and the possibilities are endless. I think back on my odd little friend from high school and think...

Maybe he wasn’t so odd after all.

“I was young and now I am old...”
Psalms 37:25 NIV

Day 318: Lead with Love and Make Amends

Thu, 28 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I had to run to town yesterday for a followup breast ultrasound. I have a cyst growing where the one was removed a couple of years ago. So, it turned out ok, I think. The official report isn’t in yet, but the tech says I just have a tendency to produce cysts. As long as they’re benign, I’m ok with that. Just remember...get the tatas checked regularly, ladies.

As I sat in the waiting room, another lady sat the recommended six feet away. I knew I recognized her, but couldn’t place where...and you know, with masks, it’s even harder. I finally asked where I might know her from. We finally determined we live in the same small town, so we probably see each other at the Piggly Wiggly, or maybe Dollar General.

The technician came to the door with my chart and called, “Ginny?”

“Yes!” I smiled and began to rise.

The woman with the long gray hair said, “Ginny. Did you go to Bethel Church???”

Bingo! That’s where I knew Judy from. It was so good to see her...it’s been several years. I wished her well and followed the technician. Just inside the door, I stopped and said, “I’m sorry...would you excuse me for just a moment?”

I stuck my head back out the door and said, “Judy, did you know Aunt Peeps passed away?”

She did not. I told her briefly what had happened. In that moment...in a better time...I would have walked over to her and hugged her. Instead, I just gave her my warmest look and said, “I’m so sorry to tell you like this, but wondered if you knew.” She thanked me and I continued in the back with the technician.

When I got home, I made a big pot of chili. It’s going to be cold and snowy and that’s perfect weather for it. I chatted with my son-in-law’s mom for a bit and mentioned what I was cooking. She texted back...

“I wish we were there to have chili with you!”

Tears immediately stung my eyes. Oh, I’m missing my people so.

When will the better days come? How will we be? What lessons will we have learned from this experience? How can we move forward with love and grace in the aftermath of such ugliness of the last few years?

I came across this song yesterday by Dolly Parton. Dolly has a big ol’ heart of gold and I found her words so encouraging, reminding us that maybe...just maybe, we don’t want to be like we were before all of this. Maybe God has shaken up the great big Etch-a-Sketch of life and he’s giving us a clean slate...a new way to act...a new way to BE in the world.

I want to be more grateful for the goodness in my life.

I want to demonstrate my love for my family, friends, and fellow man.

I want to be a light on the hill and shine the true love of Jesus out through everything I do.

I want to hug more and harp less.

I want to smile more and snipe less.

I want to appreciate every gift in every way.

I want to love more...and more...and more, still.

There will be better days ahead, I promise...when life is good again.

Listen to Dolly’s song “When Life is Good Again”.

“My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.”
1 Corinthians 2:4-5 NIV

Day 313: Camping with a Crusty Curmudgeon

Sat, 23 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve been having a ball this week with the fun memes using Bernie Sanders in his warm parka and mittens at the inauguration. When I first saw him walking in, looking around for his seat, I laughed out loud because he looked all the world like another Bernie I knew and loved. My second father-in-law (whom we affectionately referred to as Pop) was, from all appearances, a bit of a schlub. Lacking social graces, definitely rough around the edges...not one ounce of self awareness, Pop had a huge heart of gold and would do absolutely anything for you if you were a hard worker. He loved big and talked loud and stumbled through life with not a lot of fluff. But, oh....we all loved him fiercely and miss him so much.

When I first saw Bernie Sanders at the inauguration, I thought “Oh, my God...it’s just like Pop decided to stop at Joe’s thing before he went to Kings to pick up some milk and eggs and maybe a dented can of something off the sale rack.” What a joy it is to see each creative interpretation of the modern Jewish zaidie, frumpy but warm, practical and uncaring of your critical eye. He embodies the gestalt of Yiddisha Papas. And...these viral memes may have just fixed the internet this week.

I hear Bernie gets a kick out of all the attention these memes are getting. I don’t know if our Pop would have recognized himself in them, but we do...with lots of love. It’s so sad when you lose a beloved family member. And, it’s so wonderful when you get to the point that you can smile and laugh at the memories without so much pain in your heart.

Thank you, Bernie...for being your practical self, for not giving a rip what people thought of your outfit, and for bringing smiles to a lot of people when they think of their own “Pop”...gone, but never forgotten.

To Our Very Own Bernie....What a Pop You Were!

“Happiness makes you smile; sorrow can crush you.”
Proverbs 15:13 CEV

Day 288: My Mirror Lies!

Tue, 29 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

The house here on the Ponderosa was built in the ‘70s. The closets have sliding mirrored doors, strategically placed so that when I roll out of bed in the morning, my dimply white cheese thighs glare at me unforgivingly.

“Look what you’ve done to us,” they shout! “We used to be so pretty!!!”

I look at the mirror and say, “Shut up, you guys! You brought it on yourself. You’re the ones carrying me into the kitchen 500 times a day. Get a grip!”

I sit on the edge of the bed, feet dangling forlornly over the edge of the bed, and I sigh.

“It’s not my fault, you know. If we had proper wooden closet doors like they do in 21st Century houses, we wouldn’t be having this discussion, now would we? Hmmmmm?” I frown at my walking shoes peeking out from under the edge of the bed.

“And what about you guys? Where have YOU been?” I harrumph with disgust at the traitors hiding under my side of the bed. “I haven’t heard much out of you either!”

“Hey, don’t blame us...we’ve been calling your name for months now, but you don’t listen! And now look at where we all are.”

I’d love to say my mirror lies. So do my thighs and my running shoes. But it’s not true. It’s me. It’s been a hard year. And there were all those cookies and breads and pies and stuff to bake and cook and can. Now...it’s time to pay the piper.

It’s supposed to be a beautiful day today...not too cool. Just right to get out and walk some of these baked goods off my ample backside and come back to the real world. It would be awful to get to the point where we can get out and do things again and I’d be six feet under from a heart attack or something. Nope, having this conversation with my thighs every morning has to stop. It’s time to get the walking shoes out and send this extra weight packing! After all...if all goes well, we’ll be having our 50th High School Reunion sometime in August of 2021! That’s something Mr. FixIt and I have really been looking forward to!!!

No need to wait till January 1st to start a New Year’s Resolution. Those never stick anyway. I just want to feel better. I don’t want my hips to hurt and make me have to toss and turn all night. I want to have more energy and less indigestion. I don’t want to live in leggings for the rest of my life.

My new mantra for 2021... “Use It or Lose It!”

“You surely know that your body is a temple where the Holy Spirit lives. The Spirit is in you and is a gift from God. You are no longer your own. God paid a great price for you. So use your body to honor God.”
1 Corinthians 6:19-20 CEV

Day 279: Be Careful What You Wish For

Fri, 18 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I was browsing photos in a Facebook Group I belong to the other day. It was one of those “You Might Be From __________ If...” pages. People post stories and photos. There are a precious few of the “old guard” who grew up and know those pictured. But there are far more who come on and say... “Does anyone recognize the people in this photo?” Those are the sad ones because the elders are dying off without labeling the photos or teaching the young’uns who were in them.

My grandma was pretty good about writing the names of folks on the back with the stub of a pencil, most likely whittled to a point with my PopPop’s pen knife. This particular photo caught my eye because I’ve seen it all my life. It’s the old one room schoolhouse that was a couple of miles from the farm. My mom and one of her brothers are in that photo and I smiled at the memories that came rushing back to me.

We have that photo somewhere in the family archives, and now, thanks to modern technology, I have it safely ensconced in my iPad and the Cloud. I can still see Grandma in her rocking chair by the front window, looking through her “picture book” and walking down memory lane. She would point and name everyone, then tell a story or share their nickname. Everyone had a nickname. Just yesterday, my baby cousin asked me what Grandma’s name was for me. I was “Ginny Lynny” or just “Pet”. She was “Trinket”.

This particular photo was taken shortly after the Great Depression. I want to say it was around 1936-37, judging by the size of my mom and her brother. When Grandma saw pictures like this, she shared with me the hard stories. Stories of struggles and just trying to get by. She would tear up when she said their milk cow was the only thing standing between her children living or dying of starvation. They never wasted a thing. Shoes were resoled at home because there wasn’t money for a cobbler. Clothes were sewn from flour sacks and mended and handed down. Grandma had a baby every two years till she nearly died after the last one and they saved her life with an emergency hysterectomy.

It was right around this time when Grandma and PopPop managed to scrape enough money together to buy the farm that I still take care of. When they moved down off the hill into that house, Grandma said she felt like a queen in a castle! She didn’t have running water or an indoor bathroom for twenty more years. They had an old wringer washer with a hit and miss engine out on the back porch. My earliest memories are of Grandma carrying buckets of rainwater she heated on the stove and pouring it in the washer.

She used lye she made from ashes and mixed it with rendered fat from butchering to make soap that was used for everything. Wash was done once a week. You started with the delicates when the water was still clean and soft and you ended with work clothes. PopPop worked in the pipe yard on old oil and gas well pipe and parts. He was always sticky and stinky with black creosote and a hard day’s sweat when he got home. Those work clothes had to be boiled and scrubbed on a washboard by hand to get the most of the grease out of them. I remember they were always an army green or khaki color.

Once the clothes were as clean as they were going to get, Grandma used the rinse water to scrub the floors of the house and the last bit was thrown out on the porch and worked with a broom to get what mud they could off the steps. It was a hard life she lived, working from sunup to sundown doing as much hard work as any man, then mending clothes and sewing on buttons at night after supper.

I look at that picture of my mom as a little girl, and I’m humbled. The “going back in time” I get to do at the farm at my age is a walk in the park compared to actually living the life they lived. You hear people say “It was a simpler time.” Simpler? Be careful what you wish for. Simpler in those day meant they didn’t have the time sucks we have now. They didn’t have TV and computers. They were lucky to see a newspaper or a magazine. They didn’t know what was happening in Asia or the Middle East or Africa unless a missionary happened to be traveling through trying to raise a little money for an orphanage somewhere. However, their lives consisted of hard work and more than their fair share of sadness. And fortunately, I come from the kind of people whose glasses were always full to overflowing and I heard of all the goodness of life.

What are we giving our children’s children’s children to know about those who came before us? What are we handing down from our great grandparents’ days? What are we teaching them about long lost skills like growing our own food and preserving it or making our own clothes and tools? Part of the purpose of this blog is sharing the past along with the stories of the present. You’ve followed along in my grief journey after losing Mr. Virgo. You’ve been here for the adventures in the camper and traveling the country as a widow trying to heal my broken heart, one campfire at a time. You shared in my joy when I found love again with my best friend from high school and remarried. Interspersed with all these events are the stories of my roots. I share them with you here because many of you grew up with similar lives and they spark your own memories. Some of you couldn’t dream of living such a life and it’s like reading a history book. So, why do I share so much of myself and my family’s history?

Because...one day, I’ll be dead and gone, and my grandchildren and their grandchildren’s children will read these stories and know from whence they came. I don’t have great material wealth to leave to my family...to the world. All I have are my experiences and my knowledge and my wisdom...the lessons I’ve learned along the way.

I’m the storyteller.

“Love should always make us tell the truth. Then we will grow in every way and be more like Christ, the head of the body. Christ holds it together and makes all of its parts work perfectly, as it grows and becomes strong because of love.”
Ephesians 4:15-16 CEV

Day 256: And Waiting Some More

Wed, 25 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Grandma’s Christmas Bells

Well...fiddle fiddle, as my mother used to say. I waited around yesterday, hoping the phone would ring and I’d get the results of my Covid test. By 12:30, I decided to call the number where I left the message on Monday. The kind lady not only directed me to the nurse’s line, but she also sent her a message stating the importance of my call. I left a voicemail and asked that she call me back.

About an hour later, I received a call from Christina, the nurse. She asked again for my name and date of birth, then told me she had no record of me in her system.

“I have to be there! You all even called me back to get my information.”

“I’m sorry...it’s just not here. Where exactly did you receive your test?”

“In the back there...by the ER.”

“Ohhhhhh....you had that done at ______________.”

“Yes, I did.” I said. “Ummmm....where are you?”

“I’m over here in _____________.”

“Well, that makes sense. Do you have a tent out front?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Well, the first woman I spoke to when I was driving over told me to come to the tent, but there wasn’t one.”

Oy.

I got the correct number from her and called. And....the results aren’t back. All of the results for the day were already there.

“I’m so sorry. You’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

Which is today. Which is the day before Thanksgiving.

OY!

I had to call my sweetheart and tell him. He is the most understanding man on the planet. I’m so tempted to just go home because I feel fine. The only thing I am experiencing now is it tastes like I have a mouthful of nickels for some reason. The Vit C or Zinc, perhaps. But...what if? What if it was positive? I sure don’t want my sweetie to get sick. Of course, even if it was positive, the longer I’m here, the less contagious I would be. So, today I’ll make an executive decision...one way or the other.

I love my breaks away...but three days and I’m ready to get home. I always used to think “old people” were such fuddyduddies wanting to go home, sleep in their own beds. Now it’s ME. Now, how did THAT happen??? lol

“Gray hair is a glorious crown worn by those who have lived right.”
Proverbs 16:31 CEV

Day 185: Come Healing...A Legend Gone

Sat, 19 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

My dearest sister/friend in the whole wide world sent me a link for a song by Leonard Cohen...Come Healing. It starts out rather ethereal, then Leonard’s deep, old-man voice comes in with a jarring duality. The juxtaposition between the two kept me on the surface of the song as I absorbed the intonations of his dusky baritone. Then I listened again. And again. I finally looked up the lyrics and followed along as the song played for the umpteenth time and I got it.

I thought of sharing it with you for “Feel Good Friday”, but something made me wait. Partially because it stirred something within me that didn’t necessarily feel that great. But there was something deeper. Something darker. Something like the feeling you get before a bad storm or a not-so-great visit to the doctor. Something anticipatory that I couldn’t put my finger on. I just knew the time wasn’t right to post it yesterday. Last night, I found out why.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg died.

We were finishing up shopping at Walmart when my phone pinged with the notification and I cried out, “Noooooo!” Mr. FixIt was ahead of me and he turned with a look of concern. I walked up to him and wordlessly showed him my phone. Such an amazing, strong woman who has fought tirelessly for women’s rights, the Notorious RBG is irreplaceable. They broke the mold when she came along and we are the worse for her loss.

Grief comes in many forms and circumstances. We can grieve over anything that breaks our hearts and what seems inconsequential to some is devastating to others. I read a tweet yesterday where a father revealed their 12-year-old son had died suddenly this week. I scanned a few of the comments. I’m not the social etiquette police, but I do try to find teaching moments when it comes to what not to say to the bereaved. It didn’t take long to see someone flat out ask what happened to his son that he “died suddenly”. I replied “There is a certain decorum expected from humans surrounding the death of a loved one...especially one’s child. The kind thing is to express sincere condolences. This is about them needing support...nothing else.” I seldom make a wave on Twitter, but that response struck a chord with many.

There’s so much chaos in the world today...so much of it man made. I would like to posit that much of what is being stirred is by the few and not the many. Much is being planted by nefarious players out to divide us because that’s our weakest link. Much is being manipulated by extremists from both ends of the spectrum and they are pitting us against “them” when “them” is in all actuality...”US”.

We need healing. I don’t know about you, but I crave healing like one craves a hug from a mother long dead. It is so easy to succumb to thinking “It’s just one more thing. 2020 sucks!” Well, as far as years go, 2020 has certainly not been my favorite. But, as I grappled for the words to say today, I thought of the significance this day brings. Ruth Bader Ginsberg was the first Jewish female justice...the longest-serving Jewish justice ever. And she died at the beginning of Rosh Hashanah....the Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashanah is celebrated for two days by eating apples and honey to symbolize the wishes for a sweet New Year. And, it ushers in the Days of Awe...the High Holy Days culminating in the most somber of all Jewish holidays. Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement. The period of time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is to be spent in solemn introspection of one’s personal transgressions...ultimately asking for forgiveness. From those you trespassed against...and from God.

According to Jewish tradition, one who dies on Rosh Hashanah is referred to as a Tzaddik...a person of great righteousness. The root of the word sadiq means “justice”.

How ironic that RBG would leave us on this day of all days. She held out as long as she possibly could but her body just would not carry her any further. My prayer is for comfort for her family in their time of great loss. And for our country as we are once again dealt another blow. And for our healing...our human healing. May we find the spaces between us fill with love.

Come Healing.

[youtu.be/8pKUwTooZ...](https://youtu.be/8pKUwTooZ3o)

“Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.”
Jeremiah 17:14 NIV

Day 176: Beans & Tomatoes & Pickles...YUMMM!!!

Thu, 10 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Ok, yesterday was a marathon day in the kitchen here at the Ponderosa. I started out by packaging up the dehydrated mushrooms then rummaging through the garden to get a few more Roma tomatoes. I set what was ready in the dehydrator and turned my attention to the green beans.

I had enough of the beans cleaned yesterday to set a canner on to process. Then, Mr. FixIt and I enjoyed rocking in the recliners, watching old Frazier reruns while I finished stringing and snapping the last of the beans between canner loads.

I learned something yesterday. I should have weighed the beans, because apparently I had a LOT more than I thought. According to the weights and measures scale for produce, a bushel of snap beans should weigh between twenty-eight and thirty-two pounds. This should result in a quart of processed beans for every one-and-a-half to two pounds of raw produce. Initially, I figured I would get two canners full with enough leftover beans to cook up a mess for supper. ("Mess is Appalachian for a batch...a dinner's worth with leftovers.)

I ended up with four canners full! That's twenty-eight quarts. I did my math and I payed just over a dollar a quart for these babies. AND I got the fun and satisfaction of putting them up for winter. I know, I know...this is nothing compared to what my cousins can every year. They put up hundreds of jars of food. I'm a little limited by supplies this year as I was sort of starting from scratch in the canning department. I'll get more jars and lids next spring.

When the last canner was filled and on the stove, I got out my fermenting equipment and got two quarts of dill pickles started. They will sit for one to three weeks in the brine till they get to my desired taste. I made one quart with hot red pepper flakes for a little extra pizazz. I would normally use dried whole red peppers from the spice aisle but Walmart didn't have them.

And that was the end of my day. I was tired...but it was a good kind of tired. My hands smell like garlic and they're soft from working with wet beans for two days. My hips are sore from sitting so much. But, ohhhhh.....those beautiful jars of bottled summer take my breath away when I look at them!

It was not till I was typing this last night to post this morning that I noticed the date. Today would have been Mr. Virgo's 70th birthday! It feels so unreal. He will always and forever be 62...a number I passed five years ago. I can't even imagine him at 70. He would have reluctantly retired. He had no hobbies other than golf and me. I never, EVER would have considered taking off in the camper by myself and having adventures without him. He told me when we were first dating that if I was the kind of woman who was going to leave him alone for long stretches of time, he wasn't interested. I had been in a two decade marriage with a workaholic who had dinner between 8:00-10:00 every night. I was ready for that one-on-one attention.

Don't get me wrong...I absolutely adore Mr. FixIt and I treasure every moment we have together. AND, I learned I need some space to recharge from time to time...for my own mental health as well as the comfort of my spouse. Different people. Different marriages. Different expectations. Still...I think of that silver-haired man and smile now.

Seventy.

Wow.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mr. Virgo!

❤

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,
Colossians 3:23 ESV

Day 169: Forever the ‘50s Mom

Thu, 03 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I was born in the early ‘50s. We lived in an upstairs apartment of a house that no longer stands. But the time I was in second grade, we had lived in six houses that I know of. Mom and Dad bought their first home with an FHA loan for a little under $11,000. Two bedrooms with an unfinished attic and basement. It wasn’t much, but we were grateful for it.

Dad worked in the parts department for Mack Trucks. Not a lot of money to be made there, so Mom had to work outside the home. I remember one of her jobs was working for AB Dick...a printing press company. She also worked for Ben Grant who owned a printing company. When, when I was up in school, she started working for the Easter Seal Treatment Center as their “Girl Friday”.

Still, even though she worked outside the home, she was such a ‘50s mom. She wore house dresses and fake pearls and red lipstick. She sewed our clothes and embroidered pillow cases. She wore heels and carried a patent leather purse with a hankie, a change purse, and a compact inside. Oh, and she always had clip on earrings to match her dresses.

She didn’t learn to drive till I was in second grade. That was the year we bought the house in the suburbs and she had to drive my brother to his special school and get to work. I clearly remember her best friend Elaine Gordon teaching Mom how to drive. We were in the City Park where you could just circle round and round without facing oncoming contact. For some reason, Mom turned on a straight stretch and panicked. She hit the gas instead of the brakes and took us right up a bank, narrowly missing a tree. It was always an adventure with Mom behind the wheel.

Mom was NOT a good cook, but oh...could she bake! She made the best Pineapple Upside Down Cake I have ever eaten. She baked cookies every week. We always had a sweet around...I suppose because they were relatively inexpensive to make and you felt indulgent when you had one of her desserts.

She wore an apron over her house dress when she worked in the kitchen. Grandma always made quilted hot pads at Christmas from quilting scraps so there were always bits of cheerful color floating around the house. She made curtains for the windows. When I was big enough to get my own bedroom, Mom made these fabulous curtains with pink poodles on them. She made a cover with ruffles out of the same material to put over an old TV console to use as a vanity.

The decades came and went and the styles changed, but I never really saw my mom as anything but a ‘50s mom. Even when she and my dad divorced, she waited till I was married and left home to do it. She always put everyone else’s needs before her own. Generous, kind, unintentionally hilarious...she was incredibly naive to the ways of the world, clear to the day she died. That was one of her most endearing qualities.

I was rummaging around during my thirty minute allowance of browser time yesterday and saw this contact sheet of “50s Moms” and it just made me smile. I can still smell the Evening in Paris she wore...simply because I bought it for her with my babysitting money. I can still feel the soft touch of her cool hand on my fevered brow when I was sick. I can still hear the frustration in her voice when I was a rebellious teen. She worked hard, and loved harder.

I think they patterned June Cleaver after my mom.

What I wouldn’t give for one more day.

❤️

“He will wipe all tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death, suffering, crying, or pain. These things of the past are gone forever.”
Revelation 21:4 CEV

Day 167: The Longest Summer of my Life

Tue, 01 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Remember back when we were kids? School let out in May and it seemed like for-EV-er before it was September and time to go back. Then we grew up and became adults and got jobs and got married (or not) and had kids (or not). Then, summers dragged for an entirely different reason. By late August, we were like... “When does school start??? I’m done already!”

Then...life’s “Third Shift” kicked in. The kids are the ones married (or not) and with kids (or not) and we are left to our own devices. My mom’s generation played Bridge or MahJong if they were fortunate enough to not have to work outside of the home. Our generation plays pickle ball or what have you.

Whatever the case...it’s September. Seriously...March felt like at least a decade ago. I don’t even remember March. Did 2020 even HAVE a March? Or May? How about June and July? I mean...I could accept that it’s July...but September??? Crikey!

I think the total disruption of our routines and all the ensuing chaos has shifted our consciousness somehow and actually created a time warp. I mean...I could just as easily be 1963, if you ask me.

But, I digress. A Facebook friend asked yesterday if we could say something positive about 2020 so far. I had to think about it...but I came up with several things.

I mastered the art of sourdough bread.
I learned to change my expectations of others and focus on the goodness in the world.
I’ve learned that Black Lives Matter and saying that doesn’t diminish the importance of all lives.
I’ve learned that people can disappoint you when you’ve thought you’ve known them to the core...but you can still pray for them and love them like Jesus does.
I’ve learned video chats may be a poor substitute for visiting my Colorado family, but it’s still a joy to see them.
I’ve learned no human being should be forced to be with another human being 24/7/365 without some sort of recharge time. And, it’s ok to acknowledge that to said other human
I’ve learned how to lay this burden down while still fighting for change.
I’ve learned to make everything I do a silent prayer.

You may say 2020 sucks big ones, and I suppose it has in many ways. But, 2020 has been a gift in just as many ways. Above all, it has forced me into a closer relationship with Jesus. I’ve gotten to know Him a lot better and recognize His voice in the cacophony of this world. It’s brought me a lot closer to Mr. FixIt, as well. We’ve had to learn a new dance around strokes and staying at home and not doing whatever we want, whenever we want. And, believe it or not, it has brought me closer to our kids because we have more real conversations.

2020 may have brought me to my knees...but that’s not a bad position to be in for prayer.

I literally did nothing but bake a pan of lasagna and take a nap yesterday. It felt SO self-indulgent...and wonderful!!! Then, around the time the news went off, Daughter #1 called me for a video chat. Ohhhhh, my heart sings when I get to see my Colorado peeps. When we prepared to hang up, I smiled and thanked her so much for letting me see her sweet face.

“I cannot hug you in person,” I said. “But, I can hug you with my heart!”

❤️

“...The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another.”
Genesis 31:49 KJV

Day 141: We Are All Different...Yet We Are One

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

He’s been there since I took my first breath. My big brother. My “Bubby”. My first playmate. My first friend. We were in cahoots on many occasions...but I was always the instigator. He was special. Always gentle...always sweet. He didn’t run and play like the other kids so he was happy to sit on the floor with me for hours...rolling the ball back and forth...playing with cars...building with blocks.

Every week, we went to this special place to play for an hour or so. There was a table with four doors...one on each side. You opened the door, stood inside, and someone closed the door after you. Then you could play with the objects on the table. Sometimes they would bring us cookies and milk while we stood there. I think I always knew this was a place that helped my Bubby, but I never saw him as anything other than the perfect brother.

I will never forget driving up Murdoch Avenue one day. Bubby and I were sitting in the back seat and I could tell my mom was crying...though she tried very hard to hide it. When we got home, she asked us to go play and she went in her room for a while. Later, when she was tucking us into bed, I asked her what was wrong.

“Oh, Sis...I just got some news today that was upsetting to me.”

“What was it, Mommy? Are you sick?” One of our neighbors had something called “cancer” and I was very afraid my mommy would catch it. Daddy said she could.

“No, sweetheart. You’re a big girl now. I can tell you. They told me today that your Bubby has Cerebral Palsy. They said he may never be able to drive a car or get a good job. He may be crippled his whole life.”

I didn’t know what to say to my mom because my Bubby was the same he had always been. I was growing up, but I didn’t have a concept of what life might look like for my brother.

After that, I was always my brother’s champion. I protected him from neighborhood bullies. I was one of the only people who could understand what he said. I interpreted for him and ran interference...so well, in fact, that I had to learn to back off a little so he could learn how to do things for himself.

He went as far in “special school” as he could...8th grade. It took him 12 years, but he finally earned his GED. He was so proud. We were so proud for him. They sent him away for “vocational training” but he wasn’t very successful at any of the jobs they tried to teach him...mainly because Mom insisted he come home every weekend. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to succeed. She just wanted him to be home where she had control over what he did and saw.

He worked in the Sheltered Workshop for 25 years or so, and when Mom retired, she found it easier to just keep him home with her. He was good company for her. She devoted her entire life to him...taking care of his every need.

Then she died.

He came to Colorado to live near me because, by the Grace of God, he was accepted into a wonderful program for adults who are “differently abled.” When I had the opportunity to come to West Virginia to live, I offered to “bring him home” with me. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He told me he has a life in Colorado...a life he never would have had if he had stayed in West Virginia. As a matter of fact, he told me one time...if I hadn’t have brought him to Colorado, he would be in a nursing home. And that is the God’s truth. He would have. He now enjoys as independent a life as he can live. He has a roommate. They have support staff come in frequently to make sure they are taking their medicine, check on their finances, get them to medical appointments, take them shopping, help them with meal planning.

He loves his roommate. He told me once that he never had a best friend before, but his roommate is his best friend. That warms my heart more than you can know. To rest secure in knowing he will always be taken care of, that he is happy and as healthy as he can be, that he has a happy and fulfilling life...well, that is such a blessing to me.

My friend Jan shared this video on Facebook last night and I cried when I saw it. Just like I cry when I see someone who is differently abled and they succeed at something we so often take for granted. I know how hard it is to do “normal” things. I saw how much work my brother put into learning how to take care of himself, cook his meals, do his laundry, keep his room clean. To see these kids and young adults expressing themselves with joyous abandon...being exactly who they are...take me or leave me...just warmed the cockles of my heart.

I’m missing my big brother and all my Colorado peeps something awful right now. As of the 3rd, it’s been a full year since I’ve seen them and I’ve never gone that long. I do not feel it is safe, or fair, to go visit them now. I certainly would not want to make any of my loved ones ill....especially my brother. He has become much more frail the last few years and I must protect him from all this if I can. I pray there will be a time soon when we can see each other. Until then, we will have to be satisfied with phone calls.

You can see the video HERE.

❤️

“The Lord said to him, “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.””
Exodus 4:11-12 NIV

Day 139: Fall Down, Fallout, Fall Over

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I had to zoom over to the farm yesterday to meet the satellite guy. That was what I thought to be the final fix from the tree-falling fiasco of last week. The farm is really rural and there was a county-wide planned power outage yesterday from 7:00am to 1:30pm. This happens fairly frequently as they work on what is often quite old infrastructure. When the satellite guy arrived, the power was still off and didn’t come back on till after he left. He said we were doing this job on faith. Faith that he did the job right and it would work once the box rebooted. Sure enough, the power came on, and the TV worked. However...the internet would not come back on. I called and there was an outage at the main hub. Hopefully it comes back on and we don’t have to have another service call.

I arrived at the farm before Mr. FixIt. When I pulled up at the house, I noticed the sheet metal “lean to” that protects the gas meter was crushed. When I looked closer, another tree had come down and just narrowly missed the gas meter by a couple of inches. I cleaned up the branches and threw them up behind the barn. Then I lifted up the tree. It really wasn’t too heavy because it was dead and pretty well dried up. I moved it to the side and dropped it...right on my foot! Let me tell ya...that thing was a little heavier than I thought when it landed on my toes. Just dinged them up pretty good and I’ll have some decent bruises out of the deal.

We mowed and did the laundry and ate a lovely lunch on Grandma’s table. I cannot do anything there without feeling her love...for the place...for me. I know without a shadow of a doubt that she would be so incredibly pleased that I take such good care of her house. One of her kids complained to her once about this dusty old house. She told them in no uncertain terms that this house was like the Taj Majal to her. She used to cook on a hot plate on the stair landing of a boarding house. This place is the Ritz compared to some of the places she lived.

Oh, she’s showing her age, this old house. She’s going on a hundred years old, I think. The kitchen floor is off kilter with a hump in the middle that makes you feel like you’re heading downhill when you cross over it. The refrigerator is on shims to keep it level. There are rain stains in the ceiling tiles my uncle put up back in the ‘60s. The house has four kinds of linoleum on the main floor. The walls are plaster and lathe on the main floor and a kind of cardboard looking stuff upstairs. I think the same curtains are up that Grandma hung when I was a little girl.

Grandma was a frugal woman. Having survived the Great Depression with six children, she learned how to make things last. I remember washing sheets in the old wringer washer downstairs and then she would take bits of material and sew up any holes or worn places in them. She used her treadle sewing machine and she made that needle fly. I always wanted to learn how to do everything she did. She wasn’t always a patient teacher because she had work to do, but she taught me a lot. It would be my highest complement to be even just a little like her.

We ended the evening mowing a little here at the Ponderosa and gathering a shirt bottom full of ripe tomatoes from the garden...still warm from the sun. I cut them in wedges and arranged them over cool cottage cheese with a couple good twists of fresh ground salt and pepper for Mr. FixIt’s supper. It seems like I am always busy doing something, but it feels like a much simpler life than I’ve ever lived before. I think it’s because it’s here...in West Virginia. Time is a little slower here...a little gentler...a little sweeter.

❤️

“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:19 NIV

Day 89: Way to Go! Pulling off a Great Birthday!

Sun, 14 Jun 2020 01:30:00 -0600

My mom always said, “Mind over matter!” She was right, of course. I could have headed into my birthday without expectation. My post yesterday morning looked like that’s where I was heading. And, somewhere between there and here, I heard my mom’s voice telling me “Mind over matter” and I pulled myself up by the bootstraps. First, I made sure I slept really well Friday night. I didn’t eat spicy food and I didn’t eat late. I took it easy on caffeine in the afternoon. And I practiced good sleep hygiene before bed, ie no TV, no news, soft music, and we slept in the camper. It was cool overnight so it was the best sleeping weather.

I woke up completely refreshed and the sun was shining and we were knee deep in June! The green is so green it almost hurts your eyes. We had a nice, healthy breakfast of oats and fresh fruit and coffee and loaded up the tractor on the trailer. We hauled it over to the farm and knocked out the mowing in record time. We hit the road and stopped at the pizza place for sandwiches. After having a picnic by the river, we headed on home.

All my people either called, FaceTimed, or texted me for my birthday. I got lots of pictures of Grandma’s flowers out at the farm. I had a Magnum Chocolate Caramel Ice Cream Bar as my “birthday cake”. Life is GOOD!

You know, bad stuff happens to everyone. We cannot always be sitting on top of the world. Sometimes we find ourselves in the valley. That’s normal...even though it sucks. And...like I said yesterday...it’s perfectly OK to NOT be OK sometimes. If you find yourself struggling often and you feel like you are floundering, it is ok to talk to a Mental Health professional. There is nothing wrong with that. I’ve had a lot of therapy in my life so I have a lot of tools in my toolbox to handle most situations. In this case, I just had to have a really good night’s sleep and tons of contact with people who love and support me...including all of you.

Thank you all so much for the words of encouragement and the Happy Birthday Greetings! You really helped me pull myself up by the bootstraps and get moving and the day turned out to be grand!

Here’s to showing 67 how it’s done!

❤️

“For by me your days will be multiplied, and years will be added to your life.”
Proverbs 9:11 ESV

Day 88: Another Trip Around the Sun

Sat, 13 Jun 2020 01:30:00 -0600

It’s my birthday. I hardly remembered. Last year, I celebrated my “Birthday Month”. Last week, Mr. FixIt said quietly...”Your birthday is coming up. What would you like?” I didn’t know what to say. Usually I have a list of fun things I’d like. Experiences mostly. But this year it is almost like, “Really? It’s here already? I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Birthdays have always been really big for me, but not this year. There’s so much going on in the world. So many distractions. So many sad stories and heartaches. So much angst and anxiety. How can I even consider celebrating anything as base as the day of my birth? As the day crept closer, I gave it a lot of thought and decided I wanted a Lodge Combo Cooker and the cookbook by Robertson called Tartine Bread. I am bound and determined to master the art of baking with sourdough. Baking gives me peace and brings a deep satisfaction as the smells the sourdough starter transforms to a crusty chunk of heaven in my oven.

Between the doctor visits and physical therapy and mowing at two properties, my birthday almost feels like an afterthought this year. So I made a decision last night as I wrote this. We are going to the farm today to mow. I want to spend my birthday there...maybe even staying overnight. Then, after online church on Sunday...I’m spending the day in my kitchen, hopefully creating the perfect loaf of sourdough bread.

I need this. I had a little mini meltdown Thursday night. Stress had been building up and we had an unexpected medical appointment added for yesterday. I never let myself think about the “what ifs”. I don’t find it productive nor necessarily helpful. For some weird reason, all I could think about Thursday evening was all the bad things that could happen with my sweetheart’s health and I quickly got swamped with anxiety.

The grief from losing Mr. Virgo settled in the pit of my stomach. Whenever I am faced with anything like a health scare, my stomach expresses its great displeasure by rejecting its contents. When Mr. FixIt came to bed, I had to tell him I was having one of my “bad nights”. He knows what that means. Usually I’m either up all night, or up and down all night...neither of which is conducive to him getting much rest. So, this time I elected to sleep out in the camper. I was only fifty feet from him and I kept the sound up on my phone in case he needed me. And I retreated to the “Mother Ship”...my TOW-Wanda...my little sanctuary on wheels. Where I can cry or pound a pillow or yell at God in peace.

As always, Joy cometh in the morning, and I was perfectly fine by the break of dawn. I laid there for a while, watching the black of night turn to the deep purple of first light. Gradually, more and more pink was added till the hint of turquoise splashed across my view of the far hill. The air was chilled with the freshness of the morning dew. The mockingbird picked up her song with the first hint of light and I took inventory of my spirit. I utilized every tool in my toolbox just as I have learned. And I heavily relied on Jesus to come sit with me and comfort me. I wrapped my fuzzy blanket around my shoulders to ward off the morning chill and pretended it was the wings of my Guardian Angel there to protect me from any anxiety that might try to be whispered into my existence as the day progressed.

I never know when a bad night is going to occur. I never know how it’s going to affect me. Will I be strong and commanding? Or withered and anxiety stricken? I am grateful the storms are very few and far between these days. And, I know that no matter how bad it feels...it’s just a feeling and feelings have so far never killed me. 100% of the time. I know it’s ok to not be ok sometimes...and, I’m ok now. After all...it’s my birthday!

❤️

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭118:24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Day 82: Mr. FixIt and His Cat

Sun, 07 Jun 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Pumpkin the kitty isn’t a kitten anymore, but she is still small...and feisty. She has never been a real snuggle bunny, although she will let you hold her till she decides it’s time to bite. Then you put her down in a hurry. Sometimes she stalks your feet and pounces as you walk by, giving you a solid chomp on the shin. Sometimes you don’t like her much, but most of the time she is tolerable and some of the time she is just too darned cute for words.

I’ve never been a huge “cat person”. I’m doing my best here with this one....but I must say, it’s for my husband’s benefit. He loves having an animal around. Pumpkin is Mr. FixIt’s cat and she follows him everywhere. When he drives to town to pick up his lottery tickets, she happily hops in the truck with him to go for a ride. Wherever he is, Pumpkin isn’t far away. She’s kinda like a dog in that way.

I was sitting in my recliner the other morning having coffee when Mr. FixIt headed out to the building to do some cleaning and organizing. I caught this picture of Pumpkin tagging along behind him as he headed out to work. The new tractor is still in the shop and when it comes back, it needs a good parking spot. We filled the old spot with tools brought home from a worksite, so we had to find more room.

We loaded up the truck to take some things to a family member and delivered it yesterday. It’s amazing what people find valuable and refuse to part with. Coming from a place where I have already gone through the downsizing project, it’s pretty hard to not just order a dumpster and toss stuff. I figure if we can clean out ten square feet at a time, we will make some serious headway before the snow falls. Fingers crossed.

I was working on a project the other day and needed something. I thought we would need to make yet another trip into town, but before we did, I asked if it was possible we had the item in the building. Mr. FixIt went right out and returned with exactly what I needed. Not only that, it was a brand new one! It’s like living with your own personal Home Depot out back! The only problem is...we need the night crew to do an inventory and get everything organized. Now, if we only HAD a night crew!

As much as I fuss about the lack of organization around here, I’m still happier than I’ve been in a very long time. So, maybe someday this will all be left to me and I’ll have to handle it. So what? I’d much rather enjoy my time with Mr. FixIt now rather than rag at him all the time to get the place cleaned up. There’s always time for cleaning up down the road. There may not be as much time for hugs and laughter. That’s the important stuff.

❤️

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”
1 Peter 4:8 NIV

Day 70: Learning New Skills

Mon, 25 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

A few years ago, a clerk at the swimming pool supply store gave Mr. FixIt a handy dandy little trick to keep from having to empty so much water from the pool in the winter. It was supposed to keep the skimmer from freezing. Unfortunately, it didn’t work and the skimmer cracked. Being the frugal fixit man my husband is, he managed to jury rig the whole thing and get another four years use out of it. He’s a smart man. But, alas...the time came when we couldn’t keep it together with spit and glue anymore and we bit the bullet. We bought a new one.

Now, in my old life as a Princess, I would have just called the pool guy, ordered a skimmer, and have him come out and install it. I always justified those expenses by figuring out how long it would take me to do it multiplied by how much I valued my time. I valued my time a LOT. Nowadays, we have nothing BUT time, and being the frugal fixit man that he is, we set to installing the skimmer ourselves yesterday.

With a break during the hottest part of the day, I’d say it took us a good five to six hours to install that baby. It’s made well, and all the parts were there, but I could NOT turn the screws when it came time to put it together. I tried and tried. I grunted and may have said a naughty word or two. Mr. FixIt wasn’t helping when he said, “Just turn it!”

I looked at him and informed him he was getting dangerously close to doing this entire job by himself. Finally, I took the two pieces apart and looked in the holes. They were not threaded. Mr. FixIt took the drill and drove the screws into the holes to pre-thread them. When we tried the second time, they went in much easier. However, I couldn’t get the leverage I needed to drive them all the way in. I knew the only way this was going to work was for one of us to get in the pool to be in the right position.

There was no way I was going to let my husband get down in that water. Not only would there be the balance issues from last weekend’s stroke, but there was the issue of the water that had not been cleaned yet. I couldn’t risk him getting an infection in his feet or legs. So...I said, let’s have a good dinner, then I can get in there and we’ll whip this thing out.

I pulled the pork roast out of the oven and as it set, I steamed some broccoli, made a bowl of coleslaw, and sautéed the remaining mushrooms that were nearing their final days. We enjoyed our meal out on the pool deck, admiring the new pergola we built this spring and yet again congratulating ourselves for being so smart to buy it. It really keeps the temperature down at the table. After supper, we drove over to town to get a little ice cream for dessert.

It was finally time to get in the pool and get this done. It was SO cold. The pool thermometer said “Lo”. I asked Mr. FixIt how low was “Lo”. He had no idea. I’ll tell you what...I know! “Lo” means “Darned Cold”! But this was exactly the position I needed to be in to put my weight behind it and it was no time till we were done. The seal around the skimmer was water tight and there were no more leaks. Eureka! I did a little happy dance and Mr. FixIt laughed.

“Get out of there before you get hypothermia!”

I love the sense of accomplishment that comes with doing a good job. And I love that I have a patient husband that is willing to teach me these things. Having these strokes has brought us a sense of urgency in getting jobs done and teaching me how to do everything around here. It’s all part of the whole “Autumn” thing.

Sitting in the bedroom with the windows wide open and writing is the peaceful ending I crave to every day. It is my meditation time. I love hearing the frogs and the night noises and the tapping of my keyboard. It is the rhythm of my life.

❤️

“When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.”
Proverbs 3:24 NIV

Day 68: Call Lowe’s...I’m Building an Ark!

Sat, 23 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Hokey Smokes! It has rained 20 inches so far this year in our neck of the woods. We waited all day yesterday to get enough warm sunshine to dry out the yard so we could mow one more time before my step-son comes to get his riding mower today. Mr. FixIt had physical therapy and we needed to find a couple things for the old tractor to work on it today. By the time we got back home, the skies opened up again and we were back to square one.

Hopefully today is a nice day and we can mow and be good for another week, at least. I mean...on the one hand, when it rains you don’t have to mow. But, on the other...the grass grows like crazy with all that wonderful moisture. It’s a Catch-22. We also need to take the push mower out to the farm and mow out there. And this time, Mr. FixIt can’t help. I’m definitely going to get back in shape with all this exercise!

I hate that I’m not spending as much time in the kitchen as I was. It’s so soothing to me to create good things that nourish my family...and our wounded spirits. We have nowhere to go this weekend...our people are coming to us to help with mowing and welding and fixing things that need fixing. I can spend some time in the kitchen and bake them some treats to take home. That will soothe my heart and bring me peace.

I’ve been thinking about my Aunt Peeps a lot this week. While she was a sophisticated woman with impeccable taste in fashion, she was a country girl at heart. She once told me, her main goal in life was to get a teaching degree and use it to make enough money to buy a farm in West Virginia. I don’t recall seeing her can and preserve food, but she was quite the cook. She didn’t quilt or sew, but she could work sunup to sundown with any man and give him a run for his money. She was an enigma. Tight as a drum with money, yet incredibly generous when she saw you were trying to improve yourself through education. She was your cheerleader if you were a hard worker. She deeply appreciated a good work ethic and had no patience for someone who she felt was lazy or “working the system.”

She and I didn’t always see eye to eye about things, and I talked WAY too much for her tastes, but...we had one thing in common and that was the love we felt for Grandma’s farm. She was born in Pekin, Illinois along with two of her siblings. Grandma and Pop-Pop were living there during the Depression where work was to be found. When they finally came back home, there were already four children. Two were born after they moved back to West Virginia. The Farm was where they grew up. It’s where I grew up, too.

My Uncle Bud came home to the farm last weekend to pick up some things that belonged to Aunt Peeps. He needed to find a picture of her for her obituary. I didn’t get to see him because that was the day Mr. FixIt came home from the hospital. I spoke with him this week and he was so pleased with how well we are caring for the family home. He said he was worried it would begin falling apart without someone living there full time, but I told him we go there often enough to breath life into the old place.

There are some things that are failing...like the big barn and the old tool shed. They are starting to lean and there’s termite damage. But overall, the place looks great for being nearly a hundred years old. I still yearn to go there often to just rock on the front porch and listen to the birds and the wind in the trees. Everything is aging...the old home place, the tractor, the Ponderosa...and us.

These are the things that went through my mind as I sat pretending to read while I watched my sweet husband having physical therapy. We’ve known each other since we were kids. But we’ve only been together a little over three years. We’ve both changed a lot in those three years. This marriage isn’t like the marriage of my youth...where time stretched before us like an endless summer vacation. This is the marriage where we get to wrap each other up in warm, comfy love and ride the long wave home. There’s no fooling ourselves. Oh, we aren’t at death’s door....but it is Autumn now. And, there is much comfort knowing I’ll be going through this with my best friend at my side.

❤️

“In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’”
Acts 20:35 ESV

Day 64: What a Wonderful World

Tue, 19 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Yeah...that’s not something you’re liable to hear or feel these days, is it? There’s a lot to take in. Lots going on...outside and inside. Add “your husband’s had another stroke” to an already formidable situation and it’s enough to break you. I’ve vacillated the last 48 hours between numbness and fear to acceptance and peace. Back and forth. Back and forth. It’s like that game we played when we were kids. What was it called? Crack the Whip! The kid on the end usually got creamed. That was me.

Yesterday kept me busy...one of the granddaughters came over and helped me mow. It was wonderful to not have to do it all myself. Mr. FixIt was really good and didn’t over exert himself which was a great relief. He started using one of our hiking sticks to keep his balance when he walks over uneven ground and that helped a lot. I mean...a hiking stick is cool, right? We went to the Tractor Store and got parts for the old tractor. And, we watched the finale of The Voice.

Thunderstorm Artis...an up and coming musician in the Final Five, finished the night singing “What a Wonderful World”. I love that song. I needed to hear that tangible reminder of the beauty this world can still deliver on a daily basis. I have been practicing centering myself. One of my readers keeps reminding me of the number one. We can all do just ONE thing. ONE breath. ONE moment. ONE day. By the end of the evening, I was feeling much less overwhelmed by it all.

We have no control beyond this one moment in time. I can talk, make phone calls, write letters, and vote. But I have no control over who carries an AR-15 into a courthouse or who else wears a mask or when a stroke will happen. What I do have control over is how I respond.

Mr. FixIt came into the room last night as I was writing and I had the window wide open. I also had the air conditioner going. I didn’t think about it. I just wanted the window open. In his best dad voice, he said, “Why do you have the window open with the air conditioner running?”

My reactionary response wasn’t pretty. It was just one more thing I didn’t have control over and it pushed me over the edge for a minute. Then I remembered...ONE.

I can close the window for ONE hour till the evening cools down.

I can sit there for ONE minute and think about how different today could have easily been.

One of the worst things people can say to the newly bereaved is “at least.....”. “At least he’s in a better place.” “At least she isn’t suffering anymore.” “At least you can have more children.” But, here’s the thing...it’s one of the worst things you can tell yourself, too. Because it’s so dismissive.

“At least we don’t have it as bad as some people.”

That minimizes your pain and hampers your processing. It’s self-shaming for having feelings.

I hate like HELL that my sweetheart, who I just found like...five minutes ago...had another stroke. I hate that he’s having to go through this

I hate that we can’t feel free to do what we want.

I KNOW we don’t have it as bad as some people. But we have THIS. And this ONE minute, I’m sitting with it.

It’s ok to feel your feelings.

Today is a new day. Today we pick things up and we are strong together and we are confident in our love. We have faith in a God that uses all things to prosper us. I will rest and trust in that promise.

And...I’ll wait to open the windows wide till AFTER he goes to sleep. However, I WILL make sure the air conditioner isn’t running.

This really is a wonderful world.

❤️

“What a wildly wonderful world, GOD! You made it all, with Wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations.....”
Psalm 104:24 MSG

#Wonderful, #World, #Gratitude

Day 62: When I Find Myself in Times of Trouble...

Sun, 17 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Days of unexpected loss. We all get them. We never know when the next one will strike. Yesterday was just such a day. We started out the day with another trip to the Emergency Room for what appears to be another small stroke for my beloved Mr. FixIt. I had a taste of what if feels like for those desperately frightened family members who drop their loved ones off at the ER door then drive off. Or, in my case...drive to the parking lot and sit. All day.

I hugged him goodbye, then went to the truck and cried. I couldn’t leave him. What if he needed me? What if something happened and I had to get there in a hurry. I couldn’t be a half hour away. I just couldn’t. So, I sat there waiting for a text or a call. They kept him overnight and I should be able to take him home this morning, thank God. This is another dodged bullet. We never, ever know what the day will bring.

Just as I was finally ready to leave and head home, I received a text from my cousin.

“Call me.”

My aunt had just passed away at 4:45. My cousin had spent several hours a day the last week sitting with her and holding her hand. She was with her when she took her last breath and I am grateful she didn’t die alone.

I called her “Auntzilla” to my inner circle. She was a bear and never really liked me much, even when I was a little girl. She may have been cantankerous in her old age, but that woman did a lot of good things for people in her lifetime. I will never forget the year when Hubby #2 was in medical school. We literally had nothing. One day, after a particularly rough day at work, I walked up the stoop to our house to find a big box from Aunt Peeps. I opened it and went through it slowly. It was clothes. Not new ones, but nice ones. Aunt Peeps was very fond of expensive clothes but was a bigger fan of a bargain. She bought good stuff on sale and hung onto it till someone she knew needed a boost. Then she’d mail them a box.

When I picked up the first piece, I ran my fingers down the fabric to admire the quality. I felt something in the pocket and reached in. Money! In the pocket of each piece of clothing there was a crisp new $20 bill for a total of $200! That was more money than I had seen in a very long time and was sorely needed. She loaned me her car when I came for visits so I wouldn’t have to rent one. She gave me Grandma Teeter’s old crocks and a lovely red child-sized rocking chair her late husband had found in a barn.

She was generous, but tight as a drum. She knew the price of everything to the penny and watched her money like a hawk. She was strong-willed and stubborn. She was a raven-haired beauty till her hair went snowy white like my mom’s. She wore makeup till her shaking hand would not allow her to apply it anymore. She was vain in an Audrey Hepburn kind of way with the sharp tongue of Joan Crawford. She did not mince words and had no time for nonsense.

And now she is gone. The world is changing and all upside down. It’s like...I don’t know what to expect next AND I’m not surprised when it get’s here. Her death came at the end of a perfectly awful day. I called my cousin...the daughter of the only living sister...to tell her. We wanted her to be able to tell her mom in person.

When I finally got home, the stress and grief came out in the way they always come out. I threw up. To settle myself down afterward, I laid on the bed and considered the alphabet. I pictured each letter in my mind...describing it, noticing the way it curved to stood straight and tall. I heard its sound in my head. I thought of a word starting with that letter. Then went to the next. And, the next...till I had slowly worked my way through the entire alphabet. By the time I got to “z”, I was calmed down and ready to write. We do whatever we have to do to get by on days like these. Bottom line...I kept asking God to pull me closer. He never fails me.

Thank you so much for your prayers yesterday. You have no idea what it means to me to ask for prayers and immediately have so many people drop what they’re doing to pray. The power of prayer is unmistakable and...palpable to the recipient who is in tune. Hopefully Mr. FixIt will get to come home today and it will be a better day!

❤️

“First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people,”
1 Timothy 2:1 ESV

#Prayers, #Family, #Fear, Prayer

Day 55: A Different Kind of Mother’s Day!

Sun, 10 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

As I sat at my keyboard last night, I looked for pictures of my mom and thought of all the Mother’s Days we had together. Really...very few. Once I left home to seek my fortunes, I am not sure we ever got to see each other on Mother’s Day. I always came home in the summer months when the kids were off of school. But I always called her and sent her a card and flowers.

I keep my pictures of Mom in an album on my iPad marked “”Family”. That way, when I get lonesome for them, they’re all in one place. I thought of all the sad and sentimental things I could say about my mom and how much I miss her. But, the truth is...even though I miss her desperately right now...I would NEVER want her to have had to experience what’s going on in the world. All the anger and divisiveness and ugliness would have upset her greatly. She had such a tender heart. And this virus would have worried her to death. I am much more peaceful knowing she is with her family and with Jesus.

My eyes scanned the photos and lingered on my own children...from when they were littles to when they had littles of their own. These girls made me a mom. I wasn’t always very good at it. I made huge mistakes and it broke my heart that I let them down. So many years were lost to depression when I just couldn’t seem to connect with them as they needed. I’ve spent much of the last twenty years trying to fix that. Trying to be a better mom. Trying to create new and better memories.

Since I moved back to my home state, I have returned to Colorado every summer to see the girls and spend time with my grandchildren. Then, the pandemic hit and I am not at all sure I’ll get to go back this year. There was a time when I would have focused on that loss and that’s all I’d see. Things are different now. Now I see where God is taking this situation and turning it for good.

My girls and I have communicated more since the Stay at Home orders came out than we ever have. There are lots of phone calls and texts, sharing pictures, video chats. When I watch their Facebook feeds, I see them reaching back for THEIR comforting touchstones and I see myself there. In the raised bed gardens. In the baking and making and growing. In the phone calls asking for advice. It has warmed my heart.

In the last two months, during this lockdown, I have finally realized...I made a difference in my kids’ lives. The things I taught them, stuck with them. And now, they are using those gifts I gave them to comfort themselves and their families. This means more to me than any trinket they could give me. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Mr. FixIt told me last night he didn’t get me anything for Mother’s Day because shopping isn’t the same. And I told him not to buy me flowers. I smiled and said, “I have everything I need for Mother’s Day. I have a great big blended family that gives me great joy.” Besides, I’d rather have kitchen stuff than flowers that wither and die.

I hope you have a wonderful Mother’s Day. And if you are actively grieving, I hope you find some moments of peace and comfort with your memories of your loved one.

❤️

“Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.””
Proverbs 31:25-29 ESV

#MothersDay, #Children, #Holiday

Day 51: Saying Goodbye to Beni

Wed, 06 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I’ve had to say goodbye to several fur babies and each one hurts more than you can imagine. The first time I ever had to put a dog down, it wasn’t even mine. It was my late father-in-law’s. He just didn’t have the heart to do it. He asked if I would. I don’t know why, but I’m the one that always had to take the “kids” for their last ride. Women are stronger in this, maybe. Maybe it’s because I was mostly raised on a farm that I got elected. For whatever reason, and as hard as it was, it was always an honor to be with a beloved companion in their last moments and let them see and hear someone they loved and trusted. It is the final gift you can give them.

The other day, my friend Deneene had to say goodbye to her beloved Beni. It carried the usual pain of losing a companion animal, but it had an added layer of pain. Beni was the last of the pack that was left from the animals she shared with her late husband. Losing this dog meant losing another important connection to Mike. It compounds the grief.

Losing a loved one is like dropping a big stone in a still pond. That first contact between the rock and the water causes the biggest wave. Then the ripples begin to slowly spread out and touch more and more of the space between the event and the shore. Since there is no timetable for grief, many years can go by and you still encounter a wave that originated from the center.

Beni was a good dog. He rarely barked but when he did, it was more like saying hello than it was a warning. He was gentle and sweet and other animals seemed to know he was a good boy. He had a rocky start. Deneene’s daughter found him abandoned inside a crate. He surely would have starved to death if she hadn’t found him and took him in. His leg was severely injured and he always walked with a bit of a limp. But, dogs are the only animal that love you more than they do themselves and he never knew an enemy once he knew the love of his girl.

Cas brought Beni to visit Deneene. They had a strong bond. Deneene often called and asked her to bring Beni over for a visit...or maybe let him spend the weekend. Before long, Beni just ended up staying with Deneene and that was it. They were attached at the hip. A little over a year ago, Deneene knew Beni didn’t have too much longer with them, so she brought another dog home. She has never been without a companion animal and she wasn’t about to this time, either.

Griffen the Grey joined their pack. A solid little French Bulldog puppy that everyone fell in love with. He was Beni’s annoying little brother who made him get up and move around more than he really wanted to. Maybe that’s what kept him going this last year. One of Beni’s favorite things to do was ride in the kayak with his mom. He wore a life vest in his later years because he wasn’t strong enough to keep his head above water.

Last Friday, Deneene knew Beni was done. He stopped eating. Sometimes he couldn’t stand up without falling down. She waited for him to tell her when...and he did. She set the date for Monday, then treated Beni to a beautiful farewell weekend with all his favorite things. They went for a ride in the car and a swim in the lake. And they went for ice cream. Griff seemed to know something was up because he just laid close to Beni all weekend without trying to engage him in play.

When the last ride was over, they brought their good boy home and buried him in a beautiful part of the yard, in the cool shade of a tree. They placed a statue of St. Francis at his head to watch over him. And Griffen laid near the grave all day, waiting for his buddy, honoring his friendship, mourning his passing.

Other animals miss their brothers and sisters when they cross over the Rainbow Bridge, just like we do. It’s sad for everyone. Even though we know they aren’t suffering anymore, we still may feel guilty, like maybe we should have...could have...done more for our friends. In the wild, an animal goes off in the woods by themselves to die when it’s their time. Domestic pets rely on us to make the humane decision for them.

Those pets who own a person are the most blessed because they get to take a little bit of their human’s heart with them...just as they leave behind a little piece of their own. I’ve heard it said, eventually you end up with the heart of a dog...one who loves everyone unconditionally.

My heart is with you, Deneene. And with all of you who have had to say goodbye to a beloved pet...especially if that pet was the last of the pack you shared with your loved one.

❤️

“For what happens to the children of man and what happens to the beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts, for all is vanity. All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.”
Ecclesiastes 3:19-20 ESV

Day 33: The Transmogrification of the World

Sat, 18 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

The gorgeous woods of Beaver Creek State Park bring me back at least twice a year.

You can ask anyone who knows me...especially my sweet hubby...CHANGE is my middle name. I can roll with the punches like the best of them. I can adapt, adjust, regroup, reform, revise, diversify, shift, twist, transform, remodel, and steer in a whole new direction. I’ve made myself over so many times, I am unrecognizable to those who’ve known me longest. But there comes a point where it gets “purt near impossible” as my grandma used to say...even for a flexible person like me.

I can handle when things slow down. I can take it when certain items are unavailable. After all, I lived through the great gasoline, toilet paper and sugar shortage of 1973-74 in the UK. We were actually given ration coupons. I hate that this disease is causing so much hardship on the world. It breaks my heart the amount of death that lies in its wake.

The first time I ever faced the visual shock of devastating change was in the late ‘80s, early ‘90s. I was on my annual trip to West Virginia to visit my family. I always stayed at the farm as much as possible when I went home and no trip was complete without a hike back up on the hill to the old Strawberry Shed. At this time, I could still walk up the trail behind the barn and walk through the woods. Now, old trees have long since fallen up the holler and blocked any way to get up through there, let alone finding the path since it’s overgrown.

That one particular summer, I hiked back up on the hill and when I came out into the clearing where the old garden was, I dropped to my knees in disbelief. The woods were gone. Just...gone! They had been clear cut and nothing was left but stumps. Something inside me felt broken and I cried my heart out. Someone had killed my childhood memories and I felt violated.

No one told me about the woods. No one warned me what the change would look like or that I should prepare myself. For them, it was a matter of course. Wood is a commodity on a farm and when you need to build a building or you need some money to live on, you make a withdrawal out of the “Bank of Nature” and cash it in. I knew this in my logical brain, but my emotional brain was devastated.

Last fall, my dear friend Gail told us our beloved Beaver Creek State Park was going to close soon after our “What a Hoot” event with the Girl Campers. She said they were going to cut out some dead wood, thin out the woods to improve the forest health, and mitigate a couple of old holding ponds leftover from the days when the area was a strip mine. The plan was to fill in those two pits and cut some of the far trees so you could once again look down over the edge to see the Pioneer Village below.

The devastation of the clear cut woods in Beaver Creek State Park brought back the terrible image of my grandma’s farm when they cut the trees down without telling me.

That sounded good. A healthy move. A needed change. It would promote healthy new growth and cut down on the terrible mosquito problem that infested the area in late summer. I haven’t been back up there yet. The state park is still closed for rehab. And, the pandemic has kept us from camping yet. Then, I saw the first photos from the park and I was once again hit in the gut with that familiar pain from such a visual change.

The trees are just...gone. It looks like all of them, from what I can see. What was once magical is now just a memory. We can only hope that what is there will become beautiful again, but it won’t be in our lifetime. The changes we are seeing from the pandemic may also be far reaching. Many are unimaginable and hit us in the gut. Things are different. And more change will come. And some of it will be downright ugly and frightening, but....at the same time...

The birds will sing.

The sun will rise and set.

The seasons will change.

Babies will come.

Elders will go.

The water will flow from the peaks of the mountains to the valleys below.

There will be fires and storms and earthquakes and disease.

And there will be life.

Resilient, strong, adaptable people will persevere. We may not live long enough to see how it all plays out but we can rest assured of one thing...

No matter what is thrown at us in this life, we know the end of the story and good triumphs over evil.

It is finished. We just haven’t seen the end of it yet.

❤️

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11 ESV

Stroke of Luck or Gift From Above?

Sat, 14 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I don’t believe it’s a “stroke of luck”. I believe it is a gift from above.

As I sat in bed the other night with my little lap desk and my iPad typing this, I had the windows open. At 9:00pm it was still in the mid-60’s and the peepers were calling from the ditch by the road that borders our property. The house was quiet...my husband was off bowling with his buddies. On his own. We have slowly increased his independence and he’s started driving a little. It is a great relief for him to return to some normalcy. It is a great relief to me that he can.

I saw this meme the other day, and as is my wont, saved it for a future post. I am always looking for something that triggers a good story. This one reminds me of a prayer I prayed fervently for three years after Hubby #2 and I split up. That was such a convoluted mess. There were so many factors that went into the way that whole thing came down. Long term depression. An over abundance of far-too-available medications. A psychiatrist who was a really nice guy, but not a great doctor. Two people who were emotionally unavailable for vastly different reasons. Like I said, it was a mess.

When we finally extricated ourselves from this dreadful dance and got some distance, I went on a crusade to “win him back...no matter what it took.” Let’s just say, that was not the healthiest decision I ever made but it was what I desperately wanted at the time. I prayed this prayer every day.

“God, please! Fix my family!”

Over and over I prayed these five words. I’d get hopeful, then my hopes were dashed. Finally, after three-and-a-half years...I let go and moved on. It was a slow and arduous process and not one without pratfalls. But eventually I found my balance and began to love myself and my life. Then Mr. Virgo came along.

And, just like that it seemed...he was gone.

His untimely and sudden death drew my closest family and friends around me to offer solace and comfort. I remember gathering for a family celebration and Hubby #2 was there with his wife. We were alone in the kitchen. I think we were having tea.

“Isn’t it a shame that it took the death of your husband to heal our family?”

I was stunned and at a loss for words. In that moment, it occurred to me...God answered that fervent prayer perfectly. He did it His way...in HIS time. It wasn’t at all how I thought I wanted it at the time I prayed that prayer. But it turned out exactly how it was meant to be.

I don’t believe in “luck”. I believe in God winks...moments when it is (or becomes) clear there is divine intervention involved in the circumstances of our lives. Honestly, if I had continued in the direction I was heading and stayed with Hubby #2, I am positive you and I wouldn’t be sitting here together today. You would be reading someone else’s words and I’d be pushing up daisies.

As it turns out, I was not meant to be in that marriage anymore. I was meant to run across Mr. Virgo and have that time with him to grow more...into who I was born to be. I cannot say I was meant to lose him. I can say it was his time to go. There is nothing good in that kind of loss. But I would be lying if I didn’t say there were gems in those flames. Flashes of insight. Inspiration and the courage to write. I developed a much closer relationship with God. And Mr. FixIt and I crossed paths again.

Life is a funny thing. We are brought here for a specific purpose...each with his or her own special gifts. I am convinced my purpose in life is to use my writing to help others and lift them up. I believe our primary purpose here as humans is to learn to love like Jesus does. The tapestry that is created from all the colorful threads of life is a wonder to behold. Looking back at it from the far side is a marvel to my eyes. I hope that, when I am gone, these hundreds of thousands of words I have written will still be of some comfort to others...to my family, to my friends, and to those who walk through fire in this life and come out the other side, forged by the flames into something powerful and glorious. And, if not glorious...then at least left standing to carry on another day.

❤️

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
Isaiah 43:2 ESV

Remembrance Day v.7.0

Thu, 12 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Look who came for a “visit” this week.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a picture of Mr. Virgo that I haven’t seen before. He was always the one behind the camera and didn’t really care to be in the limelight. One of our friends sent me the photo above earlier this week. She was the Human Resources Director at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen and was responsible for Mr. Virgo getting that job. Which, in turn, brought him to my geographical area. And, into the local “dating pool”. We met on an online dating site. I would say, “If it hadn’t been for her”...but I know who really lined us up and crossed our paths. It was a God thing.

When our friend left the Jerome, the staff made her a memory book, took everyone’s photos, then had them write a note. She texted it to me a couple of days ago. There was that element of surprise when I opened the text. I didn’t expect to see his handsome face looking back at me...that bright smile beaming. My instant response was tears welling up, rapidly followed with a warm smile.

“Well, hello there!” I thought. “Fancy seeing you here today.”

I smiled back at that sweet face. Sometimes, in the busyness of this new life, I forget what he looked like. Well, not really...but he doesn’t sit in the front row anymore. He doesn’t quite fade into the crowd either. He is perpetually in the wings...my Guardian Angel...watching over me and Mr. FixIt. I know in my heart of hearts that he is so happy for me. I know he is proud of me for putting this life together.

Seven years gone. I only had him in my life for seven-and-a-half years to begin with. He’s been gone almost as long as I had him. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like he was just a dream. But he was very real. My heart has healed a great deal in the seven years since Mr. Virgo died. I didn’t ever “get over him”. I learned how to carry his memory with me into this new life. He will be forever sixty-two. And here I am, rapidly approaching sixty-seven. I will age and move on and he will always look like he does in this picture. Handsome, healthy, happy, content. It makes me smile to know I had something to do with that.

Thanks for dropping in to see me this week, dear one. It’s been a while since you’ve said hello.

It’s probably for the best.

But, oh...I enjoyed the visit.

❤️

“Are they not all ministering spirits sent out to serve for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation?”
Hebrews 1:14 ESV

Sweet Caroline

Mon, 09 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Memories are like pictures in a shoebox. Sometimes you get to find out what happened to that girl.

She was just a little girl when I first met Caroline. Two years my junior, I felt ever so much older and worldly than the little girl with the long, straight hair. Caroline had an older brother about my brother Gary’s age. Our brothers both went to the “special school” in our home town. Our moms knew each other through the Easter Seal Treatment Center where the boys both received speech and physical therapy. My mom was the secretary. Caroline’s mom volunteered whenever mom needed envelopes stuffed for the fundraisers that were held periodically.

I never really knew Caroline. Our ages were just enough different that our paths didn’t cross through school, but I remember seeing stories about her and her brother and parents in the newspaper from time to time. She always had that long, straight hair. She went on to become an artist and lived in New England. But, so many times over the years, she and her brother would come to mind and I’d wonder how they were.

Last night, as Mr. FixIt was at the bowling alley with his buddies, I went to Panera to write my post. As I pulled out my iPad, I looked up at the woman sliding into the booth next to mine. I smiled. It was Caroline!

I caught her eye and smiled.

“I’m sure you don’t know me, but you would know my mom and my brother.”

Turns out she did remember and we had the most lovely conversation...comparing notes of lives lived and times past. Well, as much as you can in a few minutes in a restaurant. I’m afraid our conversation took up much of her dinner time, but I was so happy to have connected with her.

Her brother is in a care center now and really doing as well as can be expected. He seems to be happy and content where he is and there’s a lot to be said for that. I invited Caroline to find Marshmallow Ranch. I hope she does. It’s so wonderful when you can dot some “I’s” and cross some “T’s” in your life. It closes an open loop that has run through my mind over the years.

What a treat it is when there’s some completion to a story.

❤️

“and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."”
John 8:32 ESV

It’s “Feel Good Friday”...Let’s Get Moving!

Fri, 06 Mar 2020 02:30:00 -0600

When your body hurts and you don’t know why, keep asking till you get the answers.

Three years ago, I went on a health improvement journey. I did great! I lost forty-five pounds or so. I got lean and strong and fit. I was eating clean and green. I could walk a flight of 176 stairs nine times without huffing and puffing. Mr. FixIt and I started dating. I did really well the first year keeping up with my diet and exercise. Then, winter set in, I started knitting full time, and my dear friend Janine said, “Write your book! You can knit at the book signings!”

That motivated me to sequester myself and write like crazy. The byproduct, besides a nearly finished book was...a bigger behind from sitting and writing and eating. Those of you who know the yo-yo diet sequence understand how hard it is to jump back on the bandwagon when you’ve fallen off hard. I was feeling defeated and discouraged but I didn’t have much time to sit and cry about it. 2019 was one of my busiest travel and writing years I’ve ever had.

One of the side effects of letting your health take a back seat is, things sneak up on you on quiet stocking feet. They tiptoe in and sit down. You hardly notice they’re there till enough of them come and pretty soon, you’ve got a LOT of things going on. Mine started with a sharp pain in my left foot at the base of my middle toe. Gradually it moved on down toward the little toe. Then, it moved to my left calf muscle. It felt like I had torn the muscle in half. The next day it would be gone and my right foot would hurt. Eventually it was my left hip, then my right elbow, then back to the left foot. It was crazy!

My doctor sent me to a podiatrist, but I didn’t go till after the big camping extravaganza was over. I had an MRI, x-rays, lab tests. Nothing. No one had answers and I stopped talking about it because I figured it must be in my head. When Mr. FixIt had his stroke a couple of weeks ago and my blood pressure shot up, I thought I should make an appointment with the nurse practitioner to get it checked. It had been twenty years since I had any trouble with BP and I just wanted to make sure it was just stress related and would go down...or need treatment.

The nurse practitioner asked me what kind of stress I was experiencing. I told her about Mr. FixIt, and the busy travel year, and all the writing, and the pain. Her ears perked up.

“Pain? Where? How long have you had it?”

I pooh-poohed the whole thing because, seriously, what could possibly cause pain that migrates everywhere on a daily basis. She insisted on the details so I told her, but I was still dismissive. She said there are indeed things that can cause just those symptoms and she ordered a whole barrage of blood tests. Sure enough, there are some things out of whack. We still have to do some more tests, but on a preliminary basis, it looks like something going on with my thyroid. I need an MRI and they’re sending me to an Endocrinologist...a doctor who specializes in the endocrine system.

In the meantime, I’ve been back on track with my diet for the last three weeks. No sugar, no gluten, intermittent fasting, and pretty much whatever I want to eat. I’ve lost about eight pounds already. We are both eating much, much better and I am following 99Walks...the program app that Girl Camper has teamed up with. It’s a membership walking program with teams and goals and rewards. I’m also keeping a food log on MyFitnessPal...another app I use daily.

While I was searching for a feel good story for today, I came across Joan MacDonald. Joan was 70 years old and 200 pounds. She looked like me...grey hair, tired eyes, sallow skin....in other words...unhealthy. Joan’s daughter is a fitness trainer and yogi and she begged her mom to take charge of her health and turn things around. I watched my own mother fail physically and refuse to change things. I won’t be that way. I have SO much to be here for...I’ll be darned if I’m going to go out prematurely...unnecessarily.

Joan has given me a big shot in the arm. This isn’t vanity...this is an emergency. This is “Get it together, kiddo! You’re failing here!” It’s time to get serious, stay serious, and be the best I can be. Because...today? Today is the youngest I will EVER be again! How many “todays” do I have left? Check out Joan’s story HERE.

Let’s get up and go, my friends! It’s not only “Feel Good Friday”...it’s also “Fitness Friday!”

❤️

“Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.”
3 John 1:2 NIV

When You Know It’s Time

Sat, 29 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Being alone in the world and staring death in the face takes great courage.

She grew up poor as a church mouse but didn’t know it. She took in every stray cat there was within a country mile. She fiercely protected her brother with the stutter and the lazy eye. She walked a mile to catch the bus for the 40 mile round trip to school. She got a college education because that’s what her parents insisted of all of their kids...poor or not.

When she got her teaching degree, she moved to San Diego...alone. She worked in Cleveland when there were still separate drinking fountains that said “Colored” on them. She never understood why. She married a tall, handsome young man and they lived in Washington, DC. She worked in the first Head Start program.

She was bright, neatly dressed, incredibly vain about her weight. When her husband’s heart forced him to retire early, they bought his grandparent’s farm and she worked in the country school down the road. She never had children of her own. She said she had 30 new children every year...she didn’t need more.

When her husband died unexpectedly in the middle of the night, she was stymied that she was so educated but had no idea how to perform CPR. And he was gone. In typical fashion, she pulled up her bootstraps and carried on. Two years later, she was having lunch at the country club when she caught the eye of the handsome man across the room.

She soon married the hospital administrator and settled over on his farm not too far away. He didn’t really want her to work. He liked having her around. He loved to fish in Canada in places you could only access by plane. He sold his cattle every year to pay for the charter that took them to remote lakes. She was disciplined and exacting and so in love with this tall, dark man.

He found out his cancer was back in the spring of 1990. He wasn’t up for the fight again. He figured his number was up and he’d see how it played out. By August, he was gone. When you spoke to her about him, she would get wistful and her eyes would get misty. She said she wished she could have met him first. He was the love of her life. Once they buried him, she never went back.

A few months later, she moved over to her mother’s farm to care for her and that same brother she had fought to protect when they were children. She was the kind of woman who was used to giving the orders. When she said jump, people jumped and asked how far on the way up. She wasn’t up for small talk. She was an incredibly hard worker. She once painted the entire country church...inside and out...by herself. Because there was a young couple getting married.

Her mom passed and she stayed on to care for her brother till he, too, died peacefully in his sleep while she was upstairs reading. That one nearly broke her. She had been his champion. She had cared for everyone. And now, for the first time in her life, she was truly alone. She stayed in her mother’s home, living a simple frugal life. The weeks turned into years. She found herself staring down the abyss her life had become. Yet she didn’t move. Finally, it became apparent she was nearing that point she was going to need help herself.

That’s where I come in.

She’s my aunt. The one I left Colorado to come help. She and I were oil and water. I knew that. But she had no children...no one to come help. And she had done so much for everyone, I felt an obligation to be there for her. For those of you who followed me at the time, you know how it went down. It was great for the first month. I worked hard on the farm...cutting and hauling brush, cleaning and fixing up the house. I did the laundry and shopping and cooking. Then winter set in.

We are both strong, independent women. And it wasn’t long till we were standing on each other’s very last nerve. She unceremoniously invited me to leave at Christmas and that set me out on another couple of years on the road with my camper. While I was living at the farm, we had a talk one day about nursing homes. She said, when she felt it was time, she would just pack up her bag and go over to the Minnie Hamilton Clinic and sign herself in. I had to explain to her that wasn’t how it worked. You had to be on a waiting list.

Three years ago, my aunt got so bad she couldn’t live alone anymore. Her brother came and took her home with him and I came off the road to live on the farm. My uncle was already taking care of his wife with dementia when my aunt began to slip into her own. His wife passed the day after Mr. FixIt and I got married. He has faithfully cared for his sister all this time, but it’s taking it’s toll and they had the talk.

In a lucid moment, she agreed it was time to go. She has recently been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. She’s eighty-eight. Even though she loses herself more often, she still knew it was time.

When she and I were doing that dance on the farm, we didn’t know she was slipping into dementia. I’ve never known someone in the early stages. It can look like something completely different. We had always butted heads. But she lost her filter and I took it personally. I learned a lot from that experience. I gained a level of empathy and an appreciation for the power of confusion.

So, now she’s going to need to settle in. She did well the first night. The next morning the doctor woke her up and she attacked him with her walker. She’s a pistol alright. When they asked her if she wanted to be resuscitated, she got right up in their faces and said, “No way...I just want to waltz my way out of here all natural like.”

I have no doubt she will.

❤️

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.””
James 4:14-15 NIV

Uncharted Territory

Tue, 25 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I often awaken to his hand on my shoulder. I covet this moment.

There is nothing like a health scare to shake you up....wake you up. After losing Mr. Virgo the way I did, my fear level Friday night isn’t surprising. But, now we’re here...we’re home...we’re processing. We’re walking on eggshells a little bit...feeling our way out on the ice to make sure it’s solid beneath us.

I’m trying not to be hyper-vigilant. Mr. FixIt is trying not to worry me. We both slept the deep sleep of exhaustion and relief on Sunday night. We had a very laid back day yesterday. We didn’t even get out of our jammies. We ate and slept and watched movies. We smiled and kissed and hugged a lot...because we can.

We’ll keep a low profile for another day or so. But then, it’s back in the saddle...albeit at a bit more slower pace. Look...we both have health issues. We aren’t 37 anymore. Waking up to that...getting our heads out of the sand...is important. It reminds us to be present in each moment. We don’t have the time to waste anymore.

Yes, we’re a little sad. And, we’re more than a little scared. But...we can’t walk on eggshells forever. We can’t stop living. We just have to be watchful and live our best lives. So, we made follow up appointments. And we looked at vacation rentals to extend our April beach trip by an extra week. Leaving him and going off on solo adventures might take me a while to get comfortable with. We’ll just have to see.

Like I said...it’s uncharted territory. Deeper conversations will come as to how we will navigate it. But for now, we are just resting easy and feeling ever so grateful that this wasn’t any worse. Mr. FixIt felt much better yesterday. Thank you all so much for your kind words of love and support and, of course, for your many heartfelt prayers. We appreciate them so much!

❤️

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Psalms 118:24 ESV

No Luxury of Losing It

Sun, 23 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

My strength comes from Heaven...the heavenly hosts who are always and forever available to me.

First, let me thank you for your prayers Friday night. This one was for us. My sweet Mr. FixIt had a stroke Friday night. It was mild, but concerning enough that he is in the hospital for a couple of nights for tests. My heart was pounding out of my chest and wave after wave of hot flushes rushed over me. Visions of the final trip to the ER with Mr. Virgo had me in a near panic.

I drove, maybe a little fast...but we got to the hospital in record time. It wasn’t the kind of medical emergency you need an ambulance for. He just had some numbness and tingling. It was more “let’s just go in and get this checked out to make sure everything is ok.” When they descended on Mr. FixIt and started all the medical stuff, I excused myself to the ladies room and threw up.

I didn’t have the luxury of losing it. My sweetheart knows these things scare the dickens out of me and he kept asking me if I was ok. I was honest.

“No, not at the moment. But I’m going to be.” I squeezed his hand and offered a brave smile.

I sent out the prayer request. (Thank you SO much for all your prayers!) I wrapped my arms around my sweet husband and prayed for us both. And I began to feel that sense of peace beyond all understanding.

God didn’t mean for us to do the heavy lifting. He wants us to turn all things over to Him. When I sat there, I thought of all the people I know who have been through so many hard things lately. People I know and love. I took strength from their courageous fights. I felt a Legion of Angels around us from all the prayers.

We waited, and waited, and waited for a room. Which almost always means we were waiting for the staff in the ER to find a moment between patients to get us upstairs. At one point, I thought if I could just get a blanket for him and turn off the lights, at least he would be able to get some sleep while we waited.

I went out to the desk and the tech said she was just coming to get us and take us to our room. Pretty soon, she came in and apologized. She said she had to go prepare a patient. Those of us who have worked in an ER know what that means. A patient had died and the family needed to come in to see their loved one. She was going to go make them presentable.

I didn’t say anything to Mr. FixIt as she left. I just held his hand a little tighter as my mind wandered to the day I was led in to see Mr. Virgo after they had made him “presentable” for me. I closed my eyes and said a prayer for the family who were about to have that horrible experience. I prayed that the Angels would come and wrap their wings around them and comfort them in their time of great heartbreak.

I patted Mr. FixIt’s hand and said, “It’s ok, babe. Someone else needs her more than we do right now. We’re ok.”

Thank you, God. This could have been so much worse.

❤️

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NIV

Avoiding the Medical Treadmill

Sat, 22 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

There are times when meds are medically necessary. Having a history of problems with pain meds makes me hyper vigilant to stay away from them.

There was a time when I found myself stuck on the medical treadmill. Get treated for something. Get side effects. Get treated for the side effects. Get more side effects. Get more treatment. It was a vicious cycle and I honestly believe if I hadn’t suffered the overdose, that treadmill would have been the death of me.

It was all too easy to get on that track. I was married to a prominent doctor. All doctors go the extra mile for another doctor’s family. The specialists get their referrals from internists and family practitioners. Of course they're going to make sure those people are treated to the very best there is to offer. That’s the way it’s always been.

The problem comes when someone is smart enough to work the system. Someone with a predilection to addiction. Someone who knew very well how to hide it after watching her family of origin do the same thing. That someone, of course, was me. If I was asked if I needed pain meds, I said yes.

The overdose was the end of that ride. I feel like God only gives us so many tickets for drinks. Far fewer for opioids. Let’s just say, I used my portion up way too fast and I was left trying to figure out how to live without them...how to build a new life after the old one collapsed around me. It took a lot of time and an incredible amount of work and personal growth to get through to the other side of that.

Since losing Mr. Virgo, I developed some health issues. Grief doesn’t just affect the emotions. It can have a deleterious effect on your body. The first thing that struck me was PTSD. The next was Palmar-Plantar Psoriasis. That was so debilitating. I tried everything for three years and finally struck pay dirt when I cut out sugar and gluten, started exercising and taking multivitamins, and using CBD ointment on my hands and feet.

Since being with Mr. FixIt, I’ve slowly lost my mojo in the taking care of myself department. The old adage “fat and happy” is pretty spot on. It was so much more fun to cook and bake and eat and snuggle than it was to get my butt outside and walk. You remember when I was on my health kick and lost a ton of weight. I was climbing those stairs downtown five to ten times, three to five times per week. I was really getting fit.

“Fat and happy” is taking its toll on me. I’m now pre-diabetic. I have a hiatal hernia and acid reflux and diverticulosis and high cholesterol. Those are the invisible things. I’ve gained weight. And along with that weight gain has come a drastic increase of my joint and muscle pain. From my feet to my lower back, I’ve had pain so bad there have been days Mr. FixIt has actually had to help me up out of a recliner. And I’m only sixty-six!

I can’t have this. I have this big family to love on and do things with. I have my writing and my travel. My campers. I’m staring at the other end of the stick now...I need to get crackin’ if I want to live my best life. I owe this to myself. And I owe it to Mr. FixIt and my family.

So, as of last Friday, I’m back on the bandwagon. I haven’t had any sugar or gluten, bread, pasta or potatoes. In just two days, the pain was so drastically reduced, I have been able to get back on my walking regimen. Girl Camper has just partnered with 99Walks, a subscription walking club. You can listen to motivational talks while you walk. You can join virtual teams. And when you meet your walking goals for the month, you get a stainless steel bracelet with that months motivational message on it. So far, I’ve walked ten miles this week.

My only other choice would have been to succumb to the pain, go see my doctor, and get back on the medical treadmill again. I’m not about to do that. Not when I know full well how I got this way and what to do about it. That same intelligence that finagled drugs from my ex-husband’s colleagues has been turned from evil to good. Honoring my body. Taking care of the temple where the Holy Spirit dwells. It’s time to take charge. Because the alternative is pretty darned grim.

❤️

““Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap. For it will come on all those who live on the face of the whole earth. Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man.””
Luke 21:34-36 NIV

My 2:00 Musings

Sat, 15 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

“Raising our babies to be good humans is the goal of every parent.”

They say to sleep with your cell phone charging in another room. They say you should resist the urge to pick it up in the middle of the night. They also say you shouldn’t reach for your cell phone first thing in the morning. Who ARE these people and why are they so concerned about my reading habits anyway?

I try to only speak life into my world, so I refrain from saying things like “I’m a terrible sleeper” and “I can NEVER get to sleep”. (See how I did that?) Anyway, after I’ve done all my sleep hygiene skills and I still find myself awake at 2:00, I just start having a little convo with God.

“Hey, God...I know you’re awake. Wanna chat?”

He always does. And I get some really great insights. I mean like...Nobel Prize worthy stuff. I don’t write it down, of course...because my cell phone is in the other room, thanks to the sleep experts! ***insert eye roll***go get phone***sigh***

I have a reminder list on my phone that I’ve titled “Insights”. Things that God and I chat about in the middle of the night when I am busy not sleeping. Often, those insights are the basis for future posts. Sometimes they have to wait and marinate a while before they see the light of day. Other times they are pertinent to what I’m experiencing at the time and they show up pretty quickly.

My 2:00 musing this week...

“Life was so much easier when we didn’t know what we didn’t know.”

I remember when my kids were in their late teens and early twenties. They. Knew. Everything. About. Everything. It was SO enlightening and refreshing to hear from the “experts”. I was a lot younger then. I was only in my forties. My 40-year-old self argued every point. I harangued my kids like a demented cruise director. ***sorry***

It’s fun now to watch the grandkids with their own families. The only thing that has changed are the names and the faces. The fact that I’m sixty-six now and I don’t have the energy or inclination to harass anyone about anything has gone a long way in keeping my stress level down.

I have to defend these kids, though. They do not know how much they do not know yet. When they do, they’re going to have the same “light bulb” moment we all had when we figured out our parents weren’t the idiots we once thought they were. Life really WAS a lot easier in many ways when we were young. We hadn’t graduated from the School of Hard Knocks yet. They tried to show us, but we put the brochures in the drawer and did it our way.

That’s all these kids are doing...throwing spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks. That’s cool. I may not be around for their A-Ha moment, but I was around for my kids’ and you KNOW how sweet that feels. The day Daughter #1 called to ask me how to cook something I nearly swooned and spilled my latte.

Now I lay in bed and watch the slide show of insights God plays for my 2:00 mind and I smile. Because...two time zones away, there is a mama worrying about HER kids and a newlywed worrying about the bills. They’re big now. All grown up...making their own way...making their own mistakes and learning from them, one way or another.

The bottom line is this...

God gives our children wings.

He lets us teach them to fly.

❤️

“These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.”
Deuteronomy 6:6-7 NIV

Love is All There Is

Thu, 06 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

“Sometimes Western Medicine doesn’t have all the answers. That’s when love is all there is.”

Back in late December, I sent out an urgent prayer request for my sweet friends, Greg and Sean. Greg had come home from work on a Thursday night feeling achy and in less than 48 hours, he was life flighted to Denver, in a medically induced coma, and on life support with bags and bags of medicine and oxygen and tubes running in and out of his body. It was touch and go for quite a while.

Sean wrote a daily entry on Caring Bridge, keeping their many friends and family informed what was going on. I came to look forward to the new update everyday so I would know what to pray for next. The pictures Sean posted of our sweet friend were heartbreaking. And slowly...ever so slowly...things turned around. A tiny improvement became a bigger one and a bigger one. He came off the machines. The tubes were pulled. He started eating bite by precious bite till now he is in a rehab center not far from their home. He’s regaining his strength and starting to do things for himself again. Sean’s reports are coming as praises now for the little milestones her sweet husband is making everyday.

Last night’s journal entry talked about how it felt when, as she was walking away from him to leave, she turned around to look at him once more. She caught him watching her, smiling...their many years of love communicating without words and her heart soared. She will never take the little things for granted again. I used to wonder what our lives would have been like if the CPR would have been successful and Mr. Virgo could have returned home after rehab. Those thoughts used to drive me crazy because it was an entirely moot point, wasn’t it?

The Bible tells us to think on whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable...if anything is excellent or praiseworthy...think about such things. Daydreaming about “what-ifs” doesn’t meet any of these criteria so I learned to leave such thoughts alone.

That being said, I found out the other night, another friend from the same community is going through much of the same thing as a result of complications of the flu. Please keep M.O. in your prayers. This year’s strain seems to be particularly virulent. And with the Wuhan Coronavirus spreading, there is even more reason to keep your house neat and clean, avoid crowds, use good hand washing techniques, keep your hands away from your face, nose, mouth and eyes. Don’t kiss babies. Keep a handful of masks in a ziplock baggie in your purse or car. If you’re sick, stay home. Keep hand sanitizer on you at all times. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, they say.

There’s a lot of sickness in the world these days. Common sense and lots of love go a long way to curing a lot of ills. When that doesn’t work...try chicken soup. It’s love in a bowl.

❤️

“The Lord sustains them on their sickbed and restores them from their bed of illness.”
Psalms 41:3 NIV

Boys Don’t Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses

Wed, 05 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

“Giving in and getting new glasses.”

I’ve worn glasses since 7th grade. My first pair were black with very narrow lenses like the popular “granny glasses” of the ‘60s. I remember how remarkable it was to actually be able to SEE. Mr. FixIt remembers the same thing with his first pair. We were both raised in homes without a lot of expendable income and for some reason...glasses seemed to be a luxury we could ill afford.

I remember feeling self conscious in them. The old “boys don’t make passes” comments didn’t help my self-esteem one bit. I was socially awkward anyway...add anything that drew attention to my perceived weaknesses and I wanted to crawl under a rock.

I went to see the eye doctor Monday. I was thrilled I don’t have any evidence of the glaucoma that my mother suffered with. Her sister is nearly blind from glaucoma so I am most relieved. I do have mild dry eye which isn’t surprising the amount of time I spend in front of a computer screen as well as taking antihistamines every day for allergies.

I knew my prescription had changed. It’s been three years since I was last tested and I told the doctor I could actually see better at distance than I ever have. She said that is not uncommon because of the relaxation of muscles as we age. However, the opposite occurs to close up vision and mine has changed quite a bit. New glasses it is!

I strolled through the optometric area at the eye clinic. I so want to be bold with my glasses choices. I love the models I have seen with their wild gray hair, their amazing sense of fashion, and their bold glasses. But, try as I might, I kept coming back to the old standbys...rimless bottoms that open up and compliment my face and let my eyes shine.

Creature of habit or life in the safe zone? Doesn’t matter...it’s all about comfort for me. I can’t wear fragile glasses because I have little ones that inadvertently kick me in the face. And, seriously...what kind of fashion statement is truly necessary for a woman who rides a lawn tractor and pulls a camper? Function before style...all day long!

Besides...Mr. FixIt still makes passes when I wear glasses. And that’s all that matters to me!

❤️

“And then GOD answered: “Write this. Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run. This vision-message is a witness pointing to what’s coming. It aches for the coming—it can hardly wait! And it doesn’t lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It’s on its way. It will come right on time.”
Habakkuk 2:2-3 MSG

My Mother’s Daughter

Sat, 01 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I used to feel my mom lay her hand on my back...long after she passed.

I went into town yesterday to meet a friend from church. She and her family have recently purchased a converted school bus and they are making a drastic change in their lives. They’re going on the road as a family of five, living a Godly life, homeschooling their children along the way, and exploring the country. They’ve made a one year commitment and they’re so excited! I met with them to add my insight since I did that with a camper for two years....however, alone and without children.

As I was driving, I looked down at my arms and was taken aback. I was looking at my mother’s arms...clear as day. Same skin tone. Same age spots. Same skinny little bird wrists. It made my heart ache a little. Those of us who have lost our moms know it’s something we carry for the rest of our lives. We do that with any loss. There’s a separate room for orphans.

I was talking to my mom’s sister on the phone the other day about how the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree. She laughed and said, “Oh, Ginny...you are your mother’s daughter. You are so much like her.” I thought to myself...I hope she doesn’t mean the bad things like her stubborn streak. Then I laughed. Of COURSE that’s what she meant! I really AM my mother’s daughter!

My mom’s cousin stopped by the camper in the mall last week. We sat and visited for a while. She saw the video of me pulling the camper into the mall and remarked with something like “Amazing...I never know what you’re going to do next!” I cannot imagine my mom doing what I do...like pulling a camper all over creation by myself. I think that would have scared her to death.

I do think mom would have loved going along with me in a camper, though. Sometimes, when I’m really missing her, I fantasize taking a road trip with her and my brother. I think of all the places she would have loved to go. It makes me sad when I think how clueless I was when she was still living. Yes, I went to see her every year. Yes, I called her religiously every week. But I didn’t help her like I could have...should have. I didn’t offer to take her places or fix up her house. I was too busy living my own life and too blind to see what more I could have been doing for her and my brother.

I see more of my dad looking back at me from the mirror instead of my mom and her people. That took a long, long time to “get over” because of the difficult relationship he and I had. I did the best I could do with him and I don’t feel any guilt that I should have done more with/for him. We do tend to gravitate toward the light of love so I orbited my mom.

Last night my arms virtually reached across the country and wrapped themselves around my younger daughter because she had a hard day. I wonder...when they see me as I age, do they see their Grammy? Do they see their Grammy’s arms when they look at mine? Do they note my graying hair and my not quite as peppy gait? Will they have that moment when they recognize I’m aging a little bit faster these days...like I did with my own mom? I think they do...more so because they only see me once a year. Like me with my mom.

Will they one day see me in themselves? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway...I am my mother’s daughter. More and more every year. And...that’s not a bad thing.

❤️

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you...””
Isaiah 66:13 NIV

Belated “Feel Good Friday”

Sat, 25 Jan 2020 02:30:00 -0600

“Gigi and her bonus babies.”

I totally forgot yesterday was Friday. The time is flying by so quickly, it just totally snuck up on me. I went to the mall Thursday with my bonus-daughter, two of my bonus-granddaughters, and the three babies. We had lunch and when we were finished, I asked one to take my picture with the three babies on my lap.

As I look at this, I think of my own grandma and how she looked when I placed her first great-grandchild in her arms. Her hair was gray like mine. She had the same lines on her face…the tangible evidence of all the smiles her family brought her. I couldn’t remember how old she was at the time. Grandmas are timeless, aren’t they? She was 68 when her first great-granddaughter was born. I was 64. I’m now 66 with three babies…a 2-year-old girl, a 6-month-old boy, and the newest little guy was just 2 weeks old on Thursday.

I don’t show my families’ faces in focus…especially the littles. But this gives you the idea. There’s so much love and joy in this photo. When I look at this, my heart swells with every good emotion. When I think of where I was two decades ago, and where I am now…it’s like looking at the lives of two different women. And, I suppose that’s just what it is.

We go through phases in our lives. We experience great joys and we endure great sorrows. I am so incredibly grateful for where I am today. Every baby is a gift from God.

I have people I love very much who are experiencing the loss of their own children and my heart breaks for them. There’s nothing like grief to make you fully present in the loss of a loved one. And fully empathetic with another’s pain. No one can imagine that kind of loss unless it happens to them.

My prayers are for these mamas and grandmas. And for these babies.

❤️?❤️

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”
James 1:17 ESV

B.A.L.D.

Tue, 14 Jan 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Sometimes you just have to be a little deaf...on purpose. (Photo by Three Lions/Getty Images)

I don’t watch much television, but I do like to catch CBS Sunday Morning with my coffee before church. Sometime over the holidays, they interviewed Jennifer Lopez. The singer/actress has come a long way since the “Jenny From the Block” days. She was poised and elegant and spoke with the confident wisdom that can only come from age and a broken heart or two along the way.

She told a story about meeting Ruth Bader Ginsburg. During their conversation, Jennifer asked RBG what her secret was for a long and happy marriage. The octogenarian smiled and said...

“Sometimes you have to be a little deaf.”
Ruth Bader Ginsburg

I grinned. I knew what she was talking about. It’s taken me a long, long time...and four husbands...to begin to learn this. Husbands and wives don’t think the same way, don’t you know. We spend our lives exasperated that they don’t speak our language and they spend their lives trying to figure out the best way to stay out of trouble.

I’m in a totally different place in my life now. I’m in a relationship where I can honestly say what I feel for probably the first time in my life. I have to constantly remind myself that...just because I think it or feel it and have the room in this relationship to say it, doesn’t mean I actually HAVE to. So, rather than revert to not saying what I feel...I try to be B.A.L.D.

Be a Little Deaf.

Let’s face it...men can say and do what we think are the dumbest things. It doesn’t mean they ARE dumb. It just means they think differently. When Mr. FixIt says something I know to be...or even THINK to be wrong...I don’t have to correct him or argue with him...every...single...time. Yet, I do so...way too often in the last month or so. Lately, when he says something I don’t agree with, I’ve been trying to ask myself... “Do I have to try to be right all the time?” The answer is no. Especially when it comes at the cost of the other. And...as hard as it is for me to admit...I’m NOT always right. Go figure.

Take for instance, last night. Mr. FixIt came into the bedroom when I was writing this.

“I think I left my phone out in the truck.”

“Do you want me to call it for you?”

“Would you?”

“Sure.”

Ten seconds later, his phone rang...in his pocket.

?‍♀️

I could have said something like, “Seriously? You couldn’t reach in your pocket and find your phone?” That isn’t helpful to anyone. Instead, we just laughed at the absurdity of it. It’s the only way to make life fun and not full of aggravation and hurt feelings.

It’s not just Mr. FixIt, either. It’s my kids, or the guy on the phone, or the clerk at the store. When my “crap titer” is too high, my fuse is too short. It’s making me take a good solid look at myself. There is a fine line between “confident crone” and “crotchety curmudgeon”. “No one likes a know-it-all,” said every mama...ever.

I’m trying to tell myself to be a little more like Ms. Ginsburg and be a little deaf. Not only will it make life easier for those around me. It’ll make life easier for me, too.

Gosh...I’m glad to be back. I really missed this!

❤️

“Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”
James 1:19-20 ESV

Seeking Comfort in an Uncomfortable World

Tue, 31 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“Travel brings me comfort in an uncomfortable world.”

Well, dear ones...this is it. The last day of the year. The last day of a decade. And oh...what a time it has been. At the beginning of it, I was happily married to Mr. Virgo...living in Denver and not much liking that part, except for being in close proximity to my children. Not that I got to see them much. I was very focused on my husband and didn’t see past the end of my nose. A major regret.

Three years into this decade, my life stopped when Mr. Virgo died unexpectedly...and I set out to create a new life with a new me. I sold the only home I had ever owned on my own. I made some bad decisions...but I’ve also made some good ones. I’ve driven tens of thousands of miles. I settled into and lived in the home of my heart on a beautiful farm that’s been in my family for nearly ninety years.

I’ve connected with some really wonderful people, and reconnected with people I’ve known for a lifetime. I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words as I poured out my grief and my heart and my love into the ether sphere. I married a man I initially set eyes on when I was six years old.

I gained people. And...I lost people I loved dearly.

I totaled a truck and escaped with nothing worse than a small brain bleed that left me struggling to remember things for a couple of years, which filled me with fear. This last year, things finally started to fire on all cylinders in my poor noggin and I feel more like myself than I have in a very long time.

I’ve aged a hundred years in some ways. I’ve gotten much younger in others.

I got a cat. Well...she got me.

I gained a huge extended family and I’m now not only a grandma....I am a GREAT grandma to two little ones with a third one due any day now. I am a GiGi, to be exact. A Mom and a mother-in-law and a Nana and a GiGi. A sister and a friend and a wife. How cool is that?

I went to Church Sunday night and Pastor Justin asked us to think about who we were before we were saved. In that moment, I realized THAT’S what has been hovering in the back of my mind as I contemplate the end of this decade. Because it was the beginning of the previous decade when my life very nearly came to an end.

I let myself cry as the music wafted over me, the Holy Spirit covering...filling me with his Love. My life has moments of demarcation with lines in the sand marking the points between “before” and “after”. The overdose. My mom’s death. Finding Jesus. Meeting, then losing, Mr. Virgo.

Finding ME.

Finding love again.

Marrying a wonderful man.

All while traveling. I get bored being in the same place too long. I need to seek new horizons from time to time. I need to get away and “blow off some stink” every once in a while. I need to recharge...away from everyone and everything I know. I need to go where no one knows me and rest in the anonymity that comes with the unfamiliar.

I get uncomfortable when I become too comfortable. When things start to get too predictable, I need to shake things up. I tried to count how many houses and apartments I’ve lived in during my lifetime and I lost track. I crave change. Thank goodness I’m married to a very understanding man. It makes me easier to live with, I think.

I don’t usually travel like I did this year...not since I was on the road with the camper after Mr. Virgo died. It was different this time. It was harder to be away from my sweetheart. Partly because I genuinely love being with him and partly because I’m older now and I have intimate experience with loss. Things have changed. There’s more to lose now. I’m not sure how much I’ll travel in the coming year...but I’m sure it won’t be quite like 2019.

We’re heading out tonight for a family bowling party to ring in the New Year. I can’t remember the last time I bowled. I can’t remember the last time I was out past 10:00! I have to remind myself...I’m only 66. There will be plenty of time to lay down when I’m dead and gone, right?

Maybe I can take a nap before we go.

Happy New Year, my dear ones! If you are struggling, may 2020 bring you peace, prosperity, and good health. You are so loved.

Thank you. Truly...thank you for being here all these years. I am eternally grateful for the connections I have made through this page.

Be blessed!

Ginny

❤️

“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples.”

Psalms 96:1-3 NIV

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Psalms 90:12 NIV

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

Proverbs 16:9 NIV

Christmas Comes Early

Sun, 22 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“The last really warm coat I had was the full length blue fox fur coat that Mr. Virgo gave me our first married Christmas. This one from Mr. FixIt suits me just fine.”

Mr. FixIt and I went shopping yesterday. We are at that age and stage in life when we don’t need to have a big hoopla surrounding Christmas. I needed a new winter coat. He needs a radiator on his truck. It’s kind of a wash. Since I’m not about to get a radiator and wrap it up for Christmas, I told him it was perfectly fine to go shopping together so I can try on coats and choose what I want.

My sense of fashion has definitely changed over the years. Where I used to traipse around Aspen in a full length blue fox coat, I now am the proud owner of a perfectly functional, super warm parka with lots of strategically placed pockets. It came in red, but my practical side opted for black so it wouldn’t show dirt. Besides...black is slimming, right? And...it was on sale!

We got each other one surprise. The rest is welcome, but not extravagant. I remember years when the gifts were just over the top. I don’t know if it’s my age or the fact that I’ve gone through that massive purge of personal belongings, but I just don’t need stuff. It’s not a “Bah, humbug!” thing either. It’s personal contentment.

The mall was packed. People rushing to and fro, bags and boxes piled high. There were lots of smiles and giggling children. The line for Santa was long, the children were precious. I would love to bottle up all the warm, fuzzy feelings of this time of year and keep them for the days when things may not be so warm and fuzzy in the New Year.

Our family gathering doesn’t happen till Friday so that gives us two extra days to prepare. The cards are sent. There’s things to do...baking and wrapping...knitting and writing. That’s my holiday week. And that suits me just fine.

❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Romans 15:13 NIV

A Good Kind of Tired

Sat, 14 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“Girls with Grandmother Faces”

The best laid plans. I had every intention of taking yesterday off and doing nothing but knitting. As soon as coffee was finished, I headed to the office to finish up “just a couple of things”. Three hours later, I emerged when Mr. FixIt needed my help. We are working steadily on the master bath and yesterday was “hang the door”. I’ve never hung a door before...like a pre-hung door with the frame and all. That’s a chore.

I have to tell you...Mr. FixIt doesn’t get things done quick, but when he’s finished, it’s quality engineering. When he had the shower stall in place, it was measured and placed so precisely, you couldn’t slip a dollar bill in the space between. Hanging the door was a little tricky but when it went in, it was darned near perfect. I am very impressed with this man of mine!

We finished in time to clean up and meet our fellow high school classmates for dinner at a local Italian restaurant. There were forty of us there and I looked around at these beautiful people with grey hair and we’re still so young!

An update on the kitten. After spending her entire ten days post-spaying confined to the house, she let us know she was bored out of her gourd and wanted O-U-T-S-I-D-E by firmly biting us whenever we came within reach of her. After I pulled her off my leg for the umpteenth time, she got her wish and has become her sweet kitty self again. We tuck her into the pole building at dusk every night and give her some snuggles and food and water. We check her heated water dish and heated kitty condo and make sure her litter box is presentable and say goodnight.

So, I ended the day...tired and happy. A good tired. The kind of tired where you know you accomplished something. Not bad for a Friday the 13th! And today? It’s up in the air, but I really mean to knit and address Christmas cards. And watch some Christmas movies and make phone calls. And maybe bake something yummy to go with the BEST beef stew that I made yesterday. What are you all up to today?

❤️

“May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed.”

Psalms 20:4 NIV

Winding Down the Year

Thu, 12 Dec 2019 02:30:47 -0600

“I’m looking for a little down time…maybe after the holidays.”

The year is quickly fading and before we know it, we will turn the page on…not only another year, but on a decade. There will be stories about the best and worst and we’ll wax poetic for what was, what is, and what might have been. It’s hard to stay in the moment in a moment like this.

In looking back over my last year, I realize a turning point occurred early on. I was happily sitting and knitting a gazillion dishcloths and watching movies with Mr. FixIt the entire month of January. It was divine spending hours with hot mugs of tea and the smooth feel of fiber and needles in my hands. Then…my good friend Janine stepped in and called a halt to the whole thing with these wise words:

“Stop knitting and write your book! You can knit when you’re on your book tour.”

Wow…she’s right, you know. I was enjoying the hygge environment I had created but I was also killing time till spring came and I could get back outside and play. I spent the entire month of February sequestered in the big camper and wrote over 75,000 words. And I haven’t really stopped moving since.

I bought that little camper in March and then the grass started growing and camping season started and the new Girl Camper website was being developed and we traveled….everywhere. And now, the year is all but over and I’m on sensory overload. Not from the holidays, per se. It’s just been a high gear year and I’m really ready for a little down time.

Take yesterday, for example. I hadn’t finished my first cup of coffee when Mr. FixIt announced he needed to go to Lowe’s to get the drywall for the bathroom he’s finishing and I decided to go into town with him. I wanted to pick up a gift card for my brother. I figured we would be back in ninety minutes…tops. Ha! We pulled back in the driveway at 5:30.

There is no such thing as a “quick trip to town” for some reason. Not when you decide to stop for a late breakfast and the usual errands and a stop at the grocery store and the original destination of Lowe’s and then the grandkids need something. We often look at each other and say “What on EARTH did we do when we worked full time???”

The upside of the day? I got to hold my little great grandson for half an hour and get some snuggles, so the day was not a loss.

❤️

““Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.””
Matthew 11:28-30 NIV

It’s Feel Good Friday

Fri, 06 Dec 2019 02:30:21 -0600

“Here’s a photo of my happy big brother. He makes this a true Feel Good Friday!”

Wednesday night, after leaving the funeral home in support of family who suffered a devastating loss, I came home to an empty house while Mr. FixIt ran errands in town. I cleaned up around the house a bit, snuggled the kitten and put her to bed, then padded down the hallway to our room. I got into my cozy jammies, climbed into bed, and prepared to write my post…as I do every night. Then my phone dinged.

I looked down and it was a text from Hubby #2. He was having dinner with my brother and sent me a picture. He does this whenever they go out and it makes my heart burst…for a number of different reasons. First, because I miss my brother and I only get to see him once a year now. He is my only blood sibling. I have two sibs of the heart…but my Bubby is the the best. He owns the biggest piece of real estate in my heart. It made me so happy to see that great big smile from this sweet, sweet man.

The second reason my heart exploded is…this picture was only possible because the man I was married to for twenty years thinks enough of my brother to make a point to take him out to dinner several times a year. There was a time in the throes of divorce that I truly mourned, not just for the loss of a marriage, but the loss of my friendship with #2. I was always hopeful we could develop that again, but it wasn’t until Mr. Virgo died what we set everything aside and called a truce. I’m so glad because it’s so much better for the kids and grandkids when you can get along. The fact that he takes my brother out for dinner and sends me the picture makes me proud of the personal growth we both have accomplished.

I’m always looking for good news stories to share with you all because there’s already so much bad stuff. We need something uplifting. A friend shared a cute little Christmas commercial with me last night so I decided I’m going to try to have “Feel Good Fridays” to give us all something joyful to take us into the weekend. Thanksgiving was so late this year that it’s giving us a shorter Christmas season. And…this is the time of year for all the feel good stories. After December, I’ll have to go hunting for them. But, hunting I shall gladly do. I hope you enjoy this sweet little story out of the UK.

https://www.cnn.com/2019/12/04/uk/heartwarming-christmas-advert-intl-scli-gbr/index.html?ofs=fbia

❤️

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV

Grief + Time...Still = Grief

Wed, 04 Dec 2019 02:30:15 -0600

“Grief plus time still equals grief. It’s just to varying degrees.”

It is said, “A burdened shared is lightened.” I have found this is usually the case. A heavy load is more easily carried when someone picks up the other end. Mr. FixIt picks up the other end of my grief much of the time. While it isn’t necessarily his job, he helps me through the worst times because he is my partner in all things.

That being said, I totally get how blessed I am to have this man in my life and I know he would keep picking up that other end till the cows came home. All I have to do is ask. That’s precisely why I don’t a lot of the time. It’s a tough job to love a widow. It takes a strong man. I don’t want him to burn out and decide this is more than what he bargained for. Besides, at some point, I had to learn to let Jesus do the heavy lifting for me so I could work on the feelings in my heart.

It has been 2,457 days since Mr. Virgo died. I’ve come light years since those early days when I had zero control over my emotions. I was a slave to the whims of my limbic system. If you go back and read my early writing, you’ll find many nights when I literally grabbed onto the side of the mattress and hung on for dear life. Waves of grief led to oceans of anxiety that threatened to drown me every night. I knew if I could just hang on till the sun came up, it would be better. Eventually, ever so slowly, inch by inch…things got better. That’s why, when I get hit now, it’s fairly predictable and fairly remarkable.

Triggers.

There will always be triggers, no matter how long it’s been since your loss.

On Sunday morning, when we got the call about the young man who was killed in the car accident, my heart started racing, my hands were sweating, and my mind started to race. I had my hands full with dinner in various stages of completion. And, while I am not close to the young man, he was close family through Mr. FixIt’s children and grandchildren. I felt it was important to keep moving and get food ready for everyone.

I did well all day. I was supportive and listened and hugged everyone. I even told my story about losing Mr. Virgo to the family members who didn’t know me then. But, when I went to bed, I was quickly overwhelmed. My grief comes out through my stomach and I was sick most of the night. Just as it was in the early days, if I’m going to have any trouble with grief, it’s going to be in the long dark hours of the night.

Fortunately, I have come a long way since those early days. I have learned a lot of tricks to help me get through the rough stuff. I know how to divert my attention by getting up and doing something different rather than lay there in bed mulling things over. Still, there are times when it all catches up with me and I can’t do anything about it. Those are the times I take something for my nausea and anxiety, go into the spare bedroom so as to not disturb my husband. Then, I talk out loud to Jesus until I drift off to sleep. When I wake up the next day, I’m fine and ready to take on the world again.

Tonight is the visitation. This will be hard. I will do my best to be there and support my bonus family and my husband. But I will not lie…this is not going to be easy for me. What I will tell myself all day tomorrow is…”If you think it’s hard to go to this, imagine his mother. His grandparents. His cousins. His friends. You can do this. It isn’t happening to YOU now.”

That’s the thing you have to convince yourself. It isn’t happening to YOU. Because that’s where your mind takes you. Memory is a cruel mistress.

❤️

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
John 14:27 NIV

Ok, Boomer...

Sun, 01 Dec 2019 02:30:54 -0600

“Ok, Boomer…terms of derision from a fed up generation.”

I’m a Boomer. Proud of it. And, like most people who are “of a certain age”, I find myself looking at the younger generations with a critical eye. As has happened with each preceding generation, the young people are looking at us like we’re dinosaurs. Out of touch actors that don’t have a clue. The first time I heard the snarky, derisive phrase…”Ok, Boomer”…I was frankly ticked off. How dare they…snot nosed little whippersnappers!

OMGosh…yes, I just said that!

Our generation came along after WWII during the Cold War when the economy was booming. All we had to do was roll up our sleeves, go to college, get a great job, build houses and buy cars and furniture and toys galore. Not all of us, certainly. I came from a poor home. But there was opportunity that our parents certainly didn’t have.

Then, our children came along. The Sesame Street Gen X-ers reaped a lot of the benefits of our hard work. The computer, then the internet, then cell phones…technology boomed and the world became a much smaller place. Then along came Generation Y…the Millennials…my younger daughter’s generation. And Gen Z…the children of Gen Y who know nothing other than the digital age.

Boomers often call the younger generations lazy, entitled brats who never had to work for anything…who got a trophy for showing up…who weren’t spanked by their parents and never suffered consequences for their actions. If they are brats, we are to blame. We raised them. Well, us and Dr. Spock.

I feel bad for the younger generations. We are leaving them with a terrible debt to pay. We have consistently and continually abused the planet, spent ourselves into oblivion, and we are preparing to ride off into the sunset. My older daughter and her husband are blessed. They bought a home before the bottom fell out of the housing market in 2008. My younger daughter is 29 and this is a far different world she is facing. This generation may never own homes.

While I don’t like “Ok, Boomer”…I can understand their frustration. They are saddled with immeasurable student loan debt. They can’t get jobs the way we got jobs…not when “Text 12345 to apply” is how you do it. They can’t dress up and knock on doors unannounced. They have to work 2, 3, or more odd jobs. And the jobs nowadays are not providing benefits. These kids have to get roommates to survive. They’ll eat a lifetime of ramen.

I worry about the upcoming generations. What will things be like for our great grandchildren? And the great- great- ones that we will never know? We have to become more forward thinking to preserve some sort of life for them. Or, I should say…Gen X-ers will. We can’t say we weren’t warned. I guess “OK, Boomer” isn’t far off the mark, is it?

❤️

“He decreed statutes for Jacob and established the law in Israel, which he commanded our ancestors to teach their children, so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children.”
Psalms 78:5-6 NIV

Black Kitty, Black Friday

Fri, 29 Nov 2019 02:30:59 -0600

“Little Black Kitty - Big Black Friday”

We have to go to town today. Ugh! I avoid Black Friday like the plague. But, we are having our family Thanksgiving on Sunday and there are fresh things I need to buy to prepare. Mr. FixIt was lamenting because Walmart will be crazy. We almost forget about real stand alone grocery stores and they should be less chaotic. My favorite store in the area is the Kroger over in Belpre. It’s as close to a Denver grocery as I have ever found here.

Yesterday was a beautiful day…just the two of us. We cleaned house a little. Mr. FixIt shampooed the carpet down the hall. I made the brine for the turkey. We washed the windows in the family room. I am so glad to get the bathroom fixtures and tools out of there…it needed a good cleaning. We put up the tree and it made me miss my Colorado peeps…a lot.

I talked to my brother yesterday and I FaceTimed with Daughter #1. She was cooking her Thanksgiving Dinner as we chatted. My son-in-law was in the background, peeling potatoes. As I watched her, she told me what she was doing. She took her phone and focused on each dish and told me how she made it. She makes this really great Sausage-Cranberry Stuffing. I asked her about making sweet potatoes and she showed me a trick I had never heard of before.

First, she cleans, peels, and cubes her sweet potatoes. Then she puts brown sugar in the bottom of a CrockPot to the depth of her first knuckle. She puts the cubed sweet potatoes on top and pats them down a little, and dabs about 3 tbsp of butter on top. Cover and turn on low for 2.5 hours or so, then turn to high. Stir gently every once in a while to coat the potatoes with the brown sugar. The sweet potatoes have enough moisture in them, you don’t have to add liquid. When they are fork tender, turn the CrockPot to warm. She throws miniature marshmallows on top at that point and they melt and get gooey by serving time. I don’t usually add marshmallows to my sweet potatoes because I don’t like them that sweet. Her late grandpa taught her how to make them. We really miss Pop, so I’m happy to have one of his recipes.

As I was washing the windows in the family room, the little kitty sat so regally out in the yard watching my every move. She is growing fast and will go in Monday to be spayed. I’m glad we decided to stay home because it was snowing in the mountains about the time we would have been driving through. I’m hoping to have some time to knit today, because I didn’t even pick it up yesterday. And, tomorrow I need to start cooking. I hope you all celebrated Thanksgiving in a way that brought you peace.

If you are heading out to shop on Black Friday, let me share something with you I saw online.

Look around.

All that clutter, used to be money.

And that money used to be time.

Maybe consider experiences instead of too much stuff.

When you’re dead and gone…no one will ever say, “Gosh, I wish Grandma would have bought me more stuff.” They’ll miss YOU. Six months from now, they won’t remember what you gave them, but they’ll remember spending special time with you.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”
Psalms 90:12 NIV

Tuesday Truth: When You CAN...Step Away

Tue, 26 Nov 2019 02:30:07 -0600

“It’s OK to step away!”

Do you have trouble stepping away from toxic relationships? Do you find you are people pleasing yourself into a corner? Are you feeling pressed into doing traditional holiday things even though you would rather not? Or maybe you just can’t face your ____________ (insert relative/friend here) this year…or ANY year? Well, I’m going to do something here…pay very close attention.

Step away.

If you need “permission” then, here…I’m giving you permission.

Holidays can be especially difficult if you’re grieving. Or if you have underlying health issues. Or, you know…if you happen to be human. If you are over the age of consent, holidays can be much more painful than they are pleasurable.

For the last month, I’ve been really looking forward to going over to my cousin’s house for Thanksgiving. I don’t get to see her nearly often enough and this year it was for a very brief visit last month. I love to go and stay over a couple of days, but circumstances change. There are health issues with some of the older generation over there. Last year we left here early Thanksgiving morning, drove over, discovered my aunt had fallen and she and my uncle couldn’t attend dinner, so Mr. FixIt and I packed up a dinner for them and drove it to his house. This added another hour of driving…each way. Then, after our Thanksgiving meal back at my cousin’s house, we got in the tuck and drove home. It made for a very long day and was not relaxing nor fun even though it was great to see everyone.

When I returned on Halloween from the six week camping excursion with the rpod and discovered we had a new kitten, everything changed. Now there are no more impromptu trips and I am not up for a drive-by. I took the self-care approach and opted out. Now we can work hard to finish the back bathroom this week and get the sink, toilet, and shower stall out of our living room in time for our family gathering on Sunday.

Sometimes it’s a sibling. Or an aging parent. You may feel guilty for stepping away, but as I tell you so often, you cannot fill someone else with an empty cup. WE are no good to anyone, including ourselves, if we continue putting ourselves in situations that are toxic and abusive.

I know, I know…there are times when you may be the only one that person has. There may be situations where you are a caregiver and there IS no other option. If you feel stuck…it’s ok to look for options. It’s ok to step away and take care of yourself. It’s ok to stay home and eat a hotdog for Thanksgiving if that will give you more peace. Surround yourself with the people who love you and lift you up and celebrate you if that’s what you want to do. But…give yourself permission to stay home if you need to. It’s ok.

❤️

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV

Refill Your Cup

Sun, 24 Nov 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“You can’t fill someone else with an empty cup.”

I met the Coffee Divas from my high school class yesterday. We try to meet once a month or so but I’ve been gone so much this year, it’s been a little less than that. When I returned from my WV tour in the Girl Camper charity raffle trailer, I was really ready to just be at home for a little bit. I wouldn’t say I was burned out…that sounds so negative and it wasn’t a negative kind of feeling at all. I just missed home and missed my sweet Mr. FixIt and I was ready to just be in one place and not move for a while.

There were eight of us at coffee yesterday. We are all so different…yet so similar. We’ve gone through a lot of the same things…sometimes at the same time…sometimes not. The wonderful thing about being “of a certain age” is our ability to relate to so many different experiences. One of my friends lost her mom a year ago Friday. She’s been experiencing all the things the come with that and I was so happy to see her reaching out as she lifts herself up from that slump we all go through in the year after a significant loss.

One of the gals had never been to one of our coffees. She knew some of us but not all. I never knew her in school, but she knew Mr. FixIt. She is introverted, as so many are. And she was stretching her boundaries to reach out and make new friends. That is not an easy thing to do when you’re sixty-six. We welcomed her with open arms. I watched a change come over her as the two hours passed. When she came in, her shoulders were tense…her eyes searching for a familiar face. By the time she left, her eyes danced and her dazzling smile said she had reached a happy place. Her cup was being filled.

As we chatted about the places we find ourselves on this journey, I told the girls we cannot expect to fill others with an empty cup. We have to get replenished…to drink from the well and be filled ourselves. I told them…it is not selfish to practice self-care. I love that we are there for each other…this variety of women whose singular most common thread is the high school class we graduated from.

I feel so much better now after being home a few weeks. I’ve rested. I’m sleeping well. I’ve had lots of hugs from my sweetheart and snuggled my great grandbabies. This week is Thanksgiving. Our plans are fluid. We might go to my cousin’s house. We might just stay home. Our local family Thanksgiving celebration is next Sunday. This is a week for all of us to reflect on the blessings we have…whether we are on the mountain top…or in a dark valley.

This is our time to look for ways to fill up our cups. When I look to God first as my Source, I’m filled with Living Water. When I look to my loved ones second, I’m filled with the blessings He has already given me. As you walk into this week, may you remember to fill your cup first so you can be a fount of inspiration for others. And may you encounter peace and love.

❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13 NIV

A New Approach to Winter

Thu, 14 Nov 2019 02:30:56 -0600

“Making choices to find more joy…that’s my approach to winter this year.”

I started dreading winter with a vengeance after Mr. Virgo died. I wasn’t crazy about it a long time before that, but after he died the snow shovel only had one name on it and that was mine. Before long, I began to dread fall because winter wasn’t far behind. While I was out on the West Virginia Tour in the RPod, it began to dawn on me how negative this was becoming.

I can’t change the weather. I can change my geographic location, which I’ve done. Just moving to West Virginia has added at least two full months of warmer weather with a longer growing season. If I wanted to get away from cold weather entirely, I’d have to move much further south and for now, that isn’t in the cards for Mr. FixIt and me.

We love West Virginia. It’s our home…the home of our hearts. It took me a long time to get back here. I’m not about to go someplace else at this point. So, that leaves the adjustment up to me. I saw this meme the other day and it really hit home. I can choose to hate winter, and now fall because winter is right after it. I’ll be miserable and consequently make everyone around me miserable. Because, we’re still going to have the same amount of snow and cold weather no matter if I’m happy or sad.

When I was a little girl and would get upset, my grandma would tell me to just “scratch my mad place and get glad”. In other words, get over it kiddo…you’re not in control of everything. This year I’ve decided to scratch my mad place by embracing all the wonderful things I can do in the colder months that I can’t do in the summer.

I have a much better winter wardrobe than summer. I can look forward to wearing my really pretty sweaters and boots, hats and coats.
I never drink hot beverages other than coffee in the summer. In the fall and winter, I pull out my tea pot and enjoy a cuppa in the middle of the afternoon. Or, I can hug a mug of hot cocoa with yummy, gooey, melty marshmallows in it.
It’s way too hot in the summer to bake so I indulge in trying out new recipes in the cooler months. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at baking sourdough bread. So this winter I’m going to order some sourdough starter and see what I can do.
Winter has given us the break we need from outdoor chores so Mr. FixIt is back at work on the master bath. While he’s doing that, I am going to steam off the wallpaper in the dining room, paint the walls, and put up new curtains. Then we can tackle the main bath.
I haven’t touched my book since February. This winter, in my down time, I’m going to try to wrap that up once and for all then we can focus on getting it published.
We have a new great grandson coming in January!
We always try to get down to Florida in February and that’s something I always look forward to.

Having goals allows me to set joyful things in front of me…something that has helped me ever since Mr. Vigo died. Just reading this list makes me feel far less frustrated by the cold weather. The meme is right…there will be the same amount of cold, no matter what. I might as well embrace it.

❤️

“The animals take cover; they remain in their dens. The tempest comes out from its chamber, the cold from the driving winds. The breath of God produces ice, and the broad waters become frozen.”
Job 37:8-10 NIV

What’s on the Shelves?

Wed, 13 Nov 2019 02:30:11 -0600

“Quilts always have stories, don’t they? Sometimes we know them…sometimes we don’t.”

Yesterday I showed you the jelly cupboard with my quilt collection inside. Several of you asked about the quilts…their origins, where I got them, and if I made any of them. Here’s a photo collage of the main quilts. I didn’t include the chenille bedspread that I bought at an antique dealer in Delta, Colorado when I started my three month odyssey. It matched the one on my bed when I was a little girl. I also didn’t include my first attempt at making a quilt. I used a fabric panel of an Amish quilt and just hand quilted it like it was pieced.

I’ve numbered the quilts so here is all I know about them:

The year I made the wedding quilt for Daughter #1, I paid a visit to Cabin Creek Quilters. I ultimately hired the woman in the fabric room to hand stitch my daughter’s king sized quilt and she did a lovely job. I don’t recall exactly how, but I purchased a crib-sized quilt from Cabin Creek Quilters to use as a wall hanging. For those of you unfamiliar, Cabin Creek Quilters was founded by Sharon Rockefeller when her husband was Governor. It was a quilter’s co-op and gave Appalachian women the opportunity to make some money while practicing an age-old skill. An all handmade quilt is pricey and all I could afford at the time was the crib-sized and I believe even that one was around $175.00.
This is a small doll quilt made for me by my good friend, Judy. She gave it to me for Christmas one year. Handmade gifts are the greatest treasures, aren’t they?
I have a penchant for feed-sack and flour-sack material from the ‘30s to the ‘50s. This is one I picked up somewhere along the way. I believe it is a churn dash pattern, but I’m not totally sure. I don’t know the names of all the patterns. This one is in very poor condition and wouldn’t even be considered a “cutter quilt”...one that you would cut up to make crafts from.
I also love two-color quilts. This is one I picked up on my travels but I can’t recall exactly where. It’s beautiful and in very good condition. The majority of the “pattern” comes from the quilting in the large center squares.
I’ve always loved this quilt because it is bright and cheery. I bought it in Colorado and for a long time it sat folded up on a shelf under a wicker table on my front porch. Unfortunately, the sun hit it without me catching it when I was at work and there is a faded section.
This is one of my favorite quilts. I bought it at my friend Maureen’s garage sale. The little tiny squares in the nine-path corners really make it pop and, like I said in #4, I love two color quilts.
I bought this quilt at an antique shop in Vienna, WV...my hometown. I was at Mom’s after her funeral, fixing up her house to sell. I remember thinking to myself as I was going through her things....why doesn’t she have any quilts? The only one she had was a hand-tied comforter that my grandma had made and it was so old, it fell apart as I tried to handle it and I had to throw it away. This was my attempt at “commemorating” the occasion and remembering my mama’s love for me.
This is another quilt I picked up in West Virginia during one of my trips here. It is made of old feed sacks. I remember my grandma bringing a piece out to Pop-Pop before we left for the feed store. It was my job to match the pattern and pick out sacks that matched.
This quilt had my favorite story attached. I was in West Virginia with Daughter #2. Mom agreed to watch her for a few days while I had a little break. I was driving down a highway and saw a sign for Hinton, WV and “historic downtown” under it. That’s what I’m all about when I travel...finding those really cool old towns that time seems to have forgotten. There was a small antique store down by the railroad tracks. There was a section filled with quilts. This one is a crib quilt and it was hanging on the wall. The more I looked at it, the more it spoke to me. The handwork was quite primitive but I knew there had to be a story. I asked the clerk and she said it had been made by an old black woman in town who was blind. Her granddaughter would cut out the pieces and lay them out on a table in the correct pattern. She would pick each one up and stitch it to the next. She was well in her 90’s. I had to have it and I’ve hung it over the bed in my guest room for years.
This quilt is very special to me. Mom embroidered the state birds and flowers on muslin squares when she was pregnant with my older brother. After practicing on that small wall hanging, I tried my hand at piecing the squares into a quilt. I didn’t know you were supposed to wash the fabric first. And if I had it to do over, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen that red and blue. When I took it to my friend Ginny at Log Cabin Quilts to machine quilt it, I had tried to hand quilt part of it and it was a real mess. She took those old stitches out, got rid of that fluffy microfiber filling I had used (and the sheet I had used for backing...like I said, I had no idea what I was doing at the time) and finished it like it was supposed to be done.
This is a Grandmother’s Flower Garden pattern made with depression era fabrics. I just love the amount of work that goes in these quilts. I think I bought this one at an antique store in Carbondale, Colorado. The fabric is very, very fragile and has worn away in several areas, but if it’s folded just right, it’s still displayable. This one was hand pieced then quilted on a treadle sewing machine.
This is another small wall hanging my friend Judy made for me for another gifting occasion. She is one of the most talented and generous people I know. She was my neighbor for many years in Colorado and I miss her very much.

I love quilts, but these days it better sing to me or I’m not buying it. I am, however, getting back into quilting myself and will probably continue to create pretties for family members. I love the idea of someone down the line treasuring something I made with love.

❤️

“The bed is too short to stretch out on, the blanket too narrow to wrap around you.”
Isaiah 28:20 NIV

Shelves of Memories

Tue, 12 Nov 2019 02:30:47 -0600

“The antique jelly cupboard from the farm now houses my quilts.”

When I showed you my beautiful jelly cupboard that I recently moved from the farm, many of you asked to see it when I had the quilts inside. As I sat working in the living room at the Ponderosa yesterday afternoon, the warm sunshine streaming through the big windows made its way to the cupboard. The shelves sat empty and glaring at me. I set my work aside and went on the hunt for my quilts. They have been put away since the wedding a year ago and it was about time they were brought out for all to see.

I am of the mindset not to “save the good china”. I want what few antiques I have curated to be displayed and used in my everyday life. Part of this is because my kids more than likely will not be interested in them. And partly because one of the lessons Mr. Virgo unwittingly taught me was…life is short. Use the crystal and the quilts.

When the unfortunate parting of the ways came on Christmas of 2014, just ten weeks after I arrived to help my Aunt Peeps, I didn’t know what to do with the cherished items I brought from Colorado. Five thousand pounds of stuff I didn’t believe I could part with became an albatross around my neck. I couldn’t leave it at the farm and I couldn’t take it with me on the road. My good friend, Steve, let me store a lot of it in his basement. And I decided many of the most cherished family keepsakes should go live with my cousin, Tammy. That way I can visit them and she can enjoy them.

My quilts were one of the things I simply could not part with and I carefully stored them away for the perfect way to display them again. Once they were safely tucked on the aged bittersweet colored shelves of the jelly cupboard, I sat back to observe my handiwork. I realized something heartwarming.

For the last few years, I have been dreading the day when I can no longer visit or spend time in Grandma’s old red farmhouse. That day will come…when, I don’t know. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it is that change is the only thing we can count on in this earthy plane. As I sat and looked at the worn wood the color of a caramel apple, I realized I could feel the farmhouse. I could see the hump in the floor where it’s settled over the years. The old faded linoleum that made cleaning much easier. I could hear the squeak of the stairs and the way the spring squeals when the screen door slams. I could see the boxes of Wheaties that Pop-Pop kept on the top of the cupboard for his dessert after supper. I could hear the faint sound the doors made when I reached in as a little girl…taking the mishmash collection of dishes out to set the table or putting them back in after hand washing and drying.

In that moment I realized that, even though the house may someday be inaccessible to me, this jelly cupboard is the heart of what is left of the beautiful childhood memories created within the crooked walls of a crooked little house in West Virginia. And…it is mine. Combining households with Mr. FixIt has definitely expanded our “footprint”, however…we each have things that are our personal possessions. While I don’t believe I will ever accumulate “stuff” like I did before Mr. Virgo died, what I do have will be things that are beautiful, useful, and that bring me joy.

❤️

“That precious memory triggers another...”
2 Timothy 1:5-7 MSG

Walking Among The Headstones

Sun, 10 Nov 2019 02:30:51 -0600

“Walking among the dead, speaking their names.”

I’ve always been drawn to old cemeteries. The headstones that are crooked and worn, the names fading away with time till someday…no one knows who the departed was nor to whom they were dear. There is always a note of sadness in that. I’ve had people say as long as you continue to speak of him and keep him in your heart, he’s still with you. Yes…and no. HIs memory is always and forever with me. He is not. He is gone…never to return. The finality struck me deeply in the second year of my grief journey when I was no longer numb and couldn’t pretend anymore.

What happens to these old headstones and the people they hover over? When no one ever speaks the names because they are gone from the memory of those who came after? In my genealogy research, I visited the graves of my great great grandparents. But I didn’t know them. I had never met them. The only thing I knew were maybe a couple of stories and a glimpse of what they looked like in a grainy photograph of a photograph. My children, grandchildren, great grandchildren? What will they know of them if I don’t tell them or write it down.

That is one of the ripple effects of this blog. What started out as my way of walking through a very dark valley has turned, not only into a chronicle of my life and travels, but that of the generations before me. I hope someday that my great great grandchildren will read the words I’ve set down here and see the photographs I’ve posted. I want them to know and understand their roots. I want them to know ME. Then maybe, when the letters have faded from my own headstone, they’ll have a part of me that still lives on. A legacy, as it were.

It is a Jewish tradition to place a small stone on a headstone you have visited. That way, when others come, they know someone has been there to honor their loved one. I remember the first time I went to visit Mr. Virgo’s grave after someone left something there for him. It was a pack of his favorite cigarettes. I’ve found new stones in the circle surrounding his grave as well as the occasional golf ball or coin. It’s good to know others remember him. His family have largely cut all contact with me, so I have no idea if they ever come to visit him. They all live out of state, so I doubt it seriously.

I only go to Colorado once a year now. I always visit the cemetery as many times as I can. I clean up his grave and replace the stones in the circle. I always leave something to mark when I’ve visited. This past summer, I noticed how grown up the cemetery was because of the heavy spring rains. Yet, Mr. Virgo’s grave was weeded and neat as a pin. I stopped the groundskeeper my last visit of the trip and thanked him. When I moved away in 2014, I pressed a crisp $100 bill in his hand and implored him to look after the grave as I wouldn’t be there regularly anymore. With tears in his eyes, he swore he would. And he has.

The cemetery in this photo is in Twin Falls State Park here in West Virginia. What struck me first was the markers. There were the typical headstones…these with hand carved names indicating the poverty and remoteness of the region and the times. There were also stones at the foot of the grave. This gave a true visual of how many of these graves were occupied by children. The closer these stones were together, the younger the child. Well over half the graves were those of young children. Primitive rural healthcare, rampant infectious diseases, and poverty all contributed to high mortality in children prior to the twentieth century. I found several instances in my own genealogy research where families lost multiple children within days of each other.

I don’t know that visiting graves is something that interests the younger generations. I was raised going. We even had picnics in the cemetery on Decoration Day where my paternal ancestors are buried. I took my kids, but I don’t know that they will continue that with their own children. Maybe when they are older and feel their own mortality creeping in. We all seem to change our priorities as we approach the finish line, don’t we?

❤️

““Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?””
1 Corinthians 15:55 NIV

Time Travel

Sat, 26 Oct 2019 01:30:14 -0600

“Coffee and sunshine and a little nosh!”

As I explored the latest West Virginia State Park on my camping itinerary yesterday, I took a king sized jump back in time. The last time I was at this particular park was with Hubby #2. I can’t tell you the year, but my guess is it was the summer of 1979, although it could have been later. I remember bits and pieces of that trip. I remember feeling so extravagant to travel to such beautiful places. We stayed a night in this lodge I am sitting in as I write this post. Oh, my…so much water over the dam since then.

I sat there in the morning sunshine, watching the river making riffles on the smooth stones below. The trees are yellow and brown and still-green here. Tiny little splashes of red and orange peek through as you move your eyes across the steep hillside at the far edge of the river. By 1:00 in the afternoon, the brilliant sun of morning gave way to the clouds portending the heavy storms predicted this weekend.

I haven’t met a West Virginia State Park I haven’t liked. This trip has seriously been magical and something my heart and soul so desperately needed, if for no other reason that to remind me how dearly I love Mr. FixIt. Not that there has ever been a question. We all have a tendency to get wrapped up in the busyness of life and forget to stop and appreciate what we have. I’m just as guilty of that as anyone.

Getting away also reminds me of the independence I cultivated for my self after Mr. Virgo died. I either got out and had adventures, or I would spend the rest of my life sitting at home alone. And that is just not me. I need solitude from time to time…to refresh and recharge and stretch my abilities. When I do that, I am a much better partner for my husband. I am more patient, more loving, and decidedly happier. This is a benefit for both of us.

I’ve been gone for quite a bit this year. Between Girl Camping trips, six weeks in Colorado for my daughter’s wedding, and this Charity Trailer Raffle Tour, I think I have spent more time away from home than I was there. I have a patient husband, to be sure. But we are missing each other a lot so we are working on our itinerary for the next two months and figuring out the best way to travel AND be together.

It is supposed to rain a lot this weekend so I’ve saved my writing and indoor projects till then. I need to take advantage of the sunshine when I can. When I woke up yesterday morning, it was 37 degrees. By the time I rousted myself to get coffee, it was 8:00 and 42 degrees. I took the electric griddle outside and cooked with it sitting on the picnic table. I fried a whole package of bacon and carefully placed the cooked strip between layers of paper towels and slipped the entire batch into a zip lock bag. Stored in the refrigerator, these will be eaten up long before they would spoil. I did the same with a batch of pancakes and stored them two to a sandwich bag. That way, I’ve cooked several days of breakfasts ahead of time. When it’s raining this weekend, I can still have outdoor cooked meals.

As I finished writing this piece, I watched a little boy, maybe four or five years old…walking along the river. Bright yellow leaves rained down around him. With hands reached out, he laughed as he tried to catch them…his feet crunching on those he missed. He picked up rocks on the river bank and watched out for his little brother toddling along behind him. They were out with their dad. I love seeing dads with their littles…teaching, loving, experiencing the joy of the day. I close with this thought. Wouldn’t it be a better world if the littles spent more time outside with their dads? Or moms, if dad isn’t around? Or with anyone who loves them and wants to teach them about the world and about life? Wouldn’t it be better than handing a child an electronic device to keep them quiet…engaged in learning what someone else is teaching them? Maybe something that isn’t reflective of your values? I’m not being judgmental here. There were plenty of times I let my own little watch too much TV in order to have some peace. It just seems we are raising a generation that’s greatest skill is dissociation. I’m not sure how you put the smoke back in the bottle.

With that thought, I have spent entirely too much of my morning sitting here with my own set of electronic diversions so I’m heading out to enjoy this day before the rains come and I get stuck inside. I hope you have a beautiful weekend wherever you are. Put the phone down…go outside and play. You’re never too old to “go places and do things”, as the Girl Campers say!

❤️

“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.”
Proverbs 22:6 NIV

Coffee with Wanda Belle

Wed, 23 Oct 2019 01:30:12 -0600

“The many colors of Autumn”

I was pouring my coffee yesterday and my mom popped in my head. She often does, but yesterday she “came” to have coffee with me. Mom loved her coffee…hot and black. She had a Pyrex coffee pot and I was enamored with the way you could watch the coffee brewing…bubbling up through the center tube into the glass handle of the lid then seeping down through the grounds. There was never a time when there wasn’t coffee on the stove.

Until she got older. Then it was “too much work” or “the pot is just too heavy to lift”. Then she turned to Sanka. Ok, there might be some of you who like Sanka. If you do, I mean no offense…I don’t mean to “yuck your yum”. But…ugh! Any instant coffee is a poor substitute for the real thing, in my humble opinion. I felt she had just…settled.

As I poured my coffee and thought of Mom, I could almost hear her say, “Why are you bothering with this whole rigamarole? You get out the grinder and the beans. You measure and grind till it’s just so. You measure again and pour the bottled water in the coffee maker. You plug it in and wait. What an ordeal. Just get yourself a jar of Sanka!”

I smiled.

“Yeah…no, Mom. It my routine. It’s my pleasure. When I have that first sip of hot, strong coffee (with cream and stevia, please) I’m in heaven!” Is it more work? Not that much. When I first started this trip, I bought a “pour over” thingy. I used it for the first week or two and stopped at the first Walmart I came across to buy a 4-cup Mr. Coffee. That’s the perfect size to fill my Tervis coffee cup twice. And the second cup is hot in the electric coffee maker.

Someone gave me a hand grinder and a French press many years ago. I used it when I was on The Grand Adventure in Colorado those three months after Mr. Virgo died. Many times I didn’t have electricity but I wasn’t about to turn to instant. Making coffee off the grid was a lot more work than this…but oh, it was the best coffee ever! I thought about bringing that setup with me on this trip but I knew, even without electricity, I can use the little Mr. Coffee because of the solar panels on the roof of the r-pod. Isn’t that a trip? I haven’t tried it yet…but I will before this ride is over.

I’m camping in the woods again this time. I love waking to see the trees all around, to hear the wind rustle through the leaves, to step out of the camper into the glorious light of autumn shining with that rare amber light of fall. I believe I’ll take my coffee down to the river and set a spell before I start my project of the day. I hope you get outside and enjoy some of this before winter sets in.

❤️

“You make darkness, and it is night, when all the beasts of the forest creep about. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening.”
Psalms 104:20-23 ESV

Forever 62...

Tue, 10 Sep 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Mr. Virgo…Forever 62…and still handsome as ever.”

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mr. Virgo. You would have been sixty-nine today. Would you have been retired by now? Would we have pulled that camper all over the country? Would our golf game be any better? It’s hard to say, but my guess is…we would have been out hitting some balls today.

My life is so different now…I do different things. I camp and write about it. I grieve and write about it. I got married again…and I write about it! Nothing is safe anymore…it’s all blog fodder. But in a good way.

I remember all the stages, all the phases, all the fear and pain and anger your loss caused me. I remember it all. At the same time, the edges are fuzzy. A little out of focus. The only words I can hear your voice say in my mind anymore is “I love you, baby doll.” I can picture your hands…your earlobes…your hair. It’s like I can see all the pieces of the puzzle but I cannot seem to piece them all together and put together a workable picture of you. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes its a Godsend.

As I always tell my readers, the pain of grief is always much, much worse when I’m tired. Sunday night, I could not get to sleep. And the longer it went on, the more focused I became on being away. I knew I’d be tired. And I knew the waves could hit any minutes, even if you never crossed my mind.

I finally drifted off for about 20 minutes and woke up freezing. I turned off the fan, threw a blanket over me, and went to sleep for…maybe a half hour. This time, I woke up overheated, sweating profusely, and anxious/nauseated/jittery. I finally got up, turned the fan back on, and got sick.

Grief.

Waves of seemingly unending grief have dwindled to the rare bad night. Sunday night was it. I hate disturbing Mr. FixIt if I’m jumping up and down all night so I moved to the guest room, took something for my upset stomach, and finally slipped into a sound sleep for four or five hours. This is the way it works now. The fact that I am happily married doesn’t seem to phase it. We never “get over it”….but we do learn how to hold our grief with soft hands so as to not wake up the beast.

It is your 69th. You are there with your mom and dad…and cousin-in-law Dennis…and now, your firstborn, Shannon. She has been with you for two years. I know you all are together and having a cigar on the back 9…watching the sunset.

I will always love you and remember you in so many ways. It’s funny how your shape in my life has changed over time. Each year you step a tiny bit further away. Your star shines a tiny bit less in my every day life…but you’re so much bigger in the grand moments. And still, every once it a while, a wave hits me and I have a bad night. Thank God, they are fewer and farther between.

So…

Happy Birthday, Mr. Virgo!

❤️

“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”
John 16:22 ESV

Let Things Go

Sun, 08 Sep 2019 01:30:33 -0600

“Letting things go for a little while gives your mind and heart a chance to breathe.”

I have a list as long as my arm to get accomplished in the next four days. On the upside, I don’t have a camper to clean and prep for a trip. On the downside, I still have laundry, errands, packing, planning, writing, and a couple of doctor’s appointments before I slip out of town on Thursday for the beginning of this amazing Girl Camper Trailer Tour.

So, with all this stuff on my list, what did I do yesterday? I let things go. I created a day just for me. I met ten of my dear friends from my high school class for coffee and conversation. We caught up with what’s been going on since the beginning of summer. We haven’t met since June before I left cross country. This is the first chance I’ve had to plan a coffee gathering since returning from Colorado. I needed to fit it in before I leave again this week.

We caught up with everyone’s health issues. Yes, we’re THOSE people now…surgeries, hospitalizations, injuries. We are “of a certain age” and things break down more often it seems. One of the gals was new to our gathering. She’s been liberated from a longstanding situation that didn’t allow her to socialize before now so there was a lot of catching up to do there. We talked about our vacations over the summer and travel plans for the fall. We shared photos of the grandkids…and GREAT grandkids! Ninety minutes flew by and someone called, “Picture time!” We needed to enlist a patron sitting in the cafe to come take our photo. A young woman doing homework. I smiled. “High school friends. Don’t ever lose touch!” She smiled back and took the perfect picture.

When it was time to leave, we each hugged everyone there. We’re of that age…we don’t know “when” and “if” anymore. So we hug and kiss a lot and give lots of “love you’s” and “take care’s”. I left feeling loved and supported and relieved those I care about were experiencing a pretty good week. As I was heading to the truck, one of our granddaughters texted to say she was in town and did I want to snuggle our great grandson. Well…of course! Silly question!

I went to the former Mrs. FixIt’s house and visited her and with not one, but BOTH great grandchildren for an hour or so and caught up with everyone, then headed off for errands. I met Mr. FixIt after his golf scramble and went to one of my favorite stores…Rural King. I’m looking for a cool barn coat but I’m not finding one. I’ll probably have to buy online.

So, there you go…my primer on how to let things go. Totally self serving and vitally important. Church today, then I can piddle around the house. It’ll get done. And, it’ll get done without me feeling like I’ll tear my hair out at any minute. That is a monumental win-win in my book.

❤️

“a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;”
Ecclesiastes 3:5 ESV

Soft Hands

Thu, 05 Sep 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“Hold people’s hearts softly…with open hands.”

I’ve learned to have soft hands in my relationships. I’m not talking about getting a mani or using the latest lotions and potions. I’m talking about holding my relationships softly. I’ve learned a lot about relationships over my life. I’ve certainly had enough of them. I used to be embarrassed to say Mr. FixIt is my fourth marriage. I mean, would it have been nice to celebrate my 50th Anniversary with the man I married in 1973? Well…if it WOULD have been nice, I’d still be married to him now, wouldn’t I? Same goes for the one I married in 1979.

When I married Mr. Virgo in 2007, I truly believed it was my last marriage and we would grow old together. Then 2013 happened, and that dream was shattered by his untimely death at the age of 62. I was only 59, but I swore I would never, ever get married again. “No one could ever measure up.” “My heart could never take that again.” “I’ve already used up three women’s quotas…I’m done.”

I had every reason in the book to never do this again…then Mr. FixIt came along and God granted me another chance at happiness. I’ve been able to use a lot of the lessons I learned in my first three marriages and use them in my new marriage…my LAST marriage.

I knew nothing when I married my first husband…as is true with most people, I suppose. We were so very young…I was only 19, he was 20. We argued…a lot. We had a baby straight away and we were separated before she was two. I learned a lot about what I didn’t want in that marriage.

Hubby #2 was my longest marriage…20 years. And the divorce was extremely painful. When I look back on that marriage, I realize I held onto my husband with tight fists. I was jealous of his coworkers. The nurses and medical staff, the female doctors…well, anyone really. I spent my entire relationship wondering when he would leave me for some talented, intelligent, good looking, young thing. I held on so tightly neither one of us could breathe and the relationship became toxic.

By the time Mr. Virgo came along, I was looking for what I DID want in a partner…not the other way around. I held him softly, but I held myself in an ironclad fist. My second marriage did not end by my choice, so I told myself I had to be the very best version of myself…the perfect wife…with Mr. Virgo or he might leave me, too. The marriage was much, much happier…don’t get me wrong. But it was a lot of work to try to be perfect all the time. In all honesty, I have no idea what might have come of that relationship had he not passed away. I can idealize it and say it was perfect, but no relationship is absolutely perfect. Really, really great is a glorious gift.

By the time Mr. FixIt came along, I was tired of being something…someONE…I was not. I knew if I ever had the opportunity to have another serious relationship and be married again, I was going to be a “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” kinda gal. Which works out really great because Mr. FixIt is a “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” kinda guy. I love our relationship because we aren’t guarded around each other. We’re easy with each other. We hold each other’s hearts, but with soft, open hands.

You see, what I finally learned…and trust me, I’m a slow learner…what I finally learned was this: If you hold your love’s heart in the soft, open palm of your hand and he flies away…he was not yours to begin with. And, without the tight grip of jealousy and fear of abandonment, the relationship can breathe and grow.

I never once questioned Mr. Virgo’s commitment to me, yet I still held a piece of my heart tightly in my clenched fists for fear he’d leave like the last one and break my heart. It never occurred to me it would be his death that would crush me. I don’t question Mr. FixIt’s commitment either, and I haven’t held anything back. It’s liberating. Can I get crushed again. Yes, of course. But death has taught me I can survive anything so I don’t live in fear anymore. I have soft hands. And that is a much more graceful way to live.

❤️

“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.”
Philippians 4:5 NIV

The Other Side of Fear

Wed, 04 Sep 2019 01:30:51 -0600

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” Jack Canfield

I hear from a lot of widows who face fear as one of their most difficult symptoms of grief. Fear of the unknown…fear of being alone…fear of other people’s motives. Navigating grief is difficult enough on it’s own. Add fear, anxiety, and even full blown panic attacks and it ratchets grief up to an unbearable level.

I’ve always had a bit of an anxious nature. Anticipatory social anxiety. Commonly called “stage fright”. I’ve come a long way in learning to control it. Sometimes it bothers me. Sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve learned the things I most want to do lie on the other side of that fear, so I have to figure out ways to get through to the other side in order to find my bliss.

The fear I felt early on after losing Mr. Virgo was different than my usual pre-speech jitters. It was hold-onto-the-edge-of-the-mattress-all-night awful. Through trial and error, I’ve learned a lot of skills…tools for my tool box, so to speak. If I feel myself amping up, one of the things that almost immediately calms me down is listening to praise music. If I’m singing at the top of my lungs, its really difficult to be scared.

I’ve had so many people tell me they would really love to take off camping or traveling by themselves but they are too scared. The bottom line any grief mentor should take is honoring what others are and are not capable of. That being said, if it really is something you want to do, there are ways you can ease into scary situations without jumping in with both feet.

Finding a like-minded friend to do things with can help a lot when it comes to doing new things. Taking little baby steps helps, as well. If your dream is to take a month long trip to Europe but you have panic attacks going to the grocery store, you need to desensitize yourself. Start with little excursions. A short day trip. Repeat till you’re comfortable. Then an overnight, then two…you get the idea. Getting professional help can go a long way toward building your confidence and getting down to the root of the issues you face.

When I was planning the trip to Colorado, my biggest concerns were the social obligations of my daughter’s wedding and being so far away from Mr. FixIt. Losing Mr. Virgo so suddenly brings the possibility of a repeat to the forefront of my imagination. So, yeah…that makes me nervous. The night before the trip, my stomach was in knots but I did my routine and the next morning, I was good to go. It’s not the actual DOING that bothers me…it’s the anticipation. And, sometimes I just have to do the thing and feel the fear.

I’m really excited about the opportunity to take this new camper around. There’s nothing about it that scares me, per se. I may have pre-trip jitters the night before. I may not. Knowing what it is, knowing how to redirect my thinking, knowing just what I need to do helps me feel less out of control and more confident in my own abilities.

What I want is often on the other side of fear, but that’s exactly what makes the experience so much richer. I know exactly what I had to get through to get there and that makes me brave! After all…so far, I have survived every single experience I’ve encountered in my life!

❤️

“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you."”
Deuteronomy 31:6 ESV

The Tug of War

Mon, 02 Sep 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Angel on one hand, devil on the other…trying to have their way with me.”

Mr. FixIt and I haven’t had a lot of time together this summer. I was gone a lot and, even though he joined me for three weeks in Colorado, we both have been working nonstop at this and that since we got home the first week of August. Here it is September already and I’m already preparing to leave again.

We miss being together and we both know the importance of devoting time to our relationship. It’s been really nice this weekend because we took three days off for some much needed R&R. When I woke up yesterday, I was tired. My allergies have been giving me fits creating fluid in my ears which sometimes makes me dizzy. I laid in bed for twenty minutes telling myself it was perfectly fine to stay home…we didn’t have to go to church. I mean…it’s just this once, right? We go almost every Sunday when we are home. That deserves a day off to sleep in. I just didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like going.

As I let these thoughts run through my mind, I was almost convinced to turn over and go back to sleep when a stern “voice” shook me from my reverie.

“When you don’t FEEL like going is exactly when you NEED to go!”

I quite literally jumped out of bed.

Ohhhhh….my thinker was what was “sick”. Church is the place it gets healed.

When I’m thinking I don’t need to go to church is exactly when I need it the most. And yesterday, I am not kidding…church felt like plugging in my jet pack. I got fed the energy and grace and love and lessons I needed and I left there convicted. Convinced the place to feel better is to draw closer to Jesus, not turn over and go back to sleep.

It’s not enough to go every Sunday and get plugged in, hoping the charge lasts till the following Sunday. That obviously didn’t work last week because I easily could have opted out. My tug of war pitted the proverbial angel on one hand and devil on the other…each trying to pull me to their side. I know I can’t ever go wrong when I choose Jesus.

The key is to draw closer…constantly. The Bible says we are to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). The way to do that is to turn whatever you are doing into worship. Whether you are singing in the choir or scrubbing toilets, it can be done with a tone of worship and praise. And when we pray, we are to devote ourselves “to prayer, keeping alert in it with an attitude of thanksgiving” (Colossians 4:2)

Just that boost, and the conviction to keep close, has given me rest and regeneration. I feel so much better and not nearly so overwhelmed by all I need to accomplish in the next two weeks. I came to the farm after church…to my place of meditation…to the home of my heart…and enjoyed a quiet evening while Mr. FixIt bowled. Today, I’ll go back home and get some work done. Perhaps I’ll pressure wash the deck!

❤️

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2 NIV

Dining Alone

Sun, 01 Sep 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“Dining alone can be an intimidating experience when you are widowed.”

I saw her walk into the restaurant with the rest of us “early birds”. The waitress came up to her table and handed her a menu.

“Just one?”

I’m sure I’m the only one in the restaurant that saw the shadow of pain skitter across her face.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

sigh

I wanted to smack the perky waitress but decided at some point in the meal, this would become a teaching moment.

When we walked in, there were friends sitting in a booth near the front of the restaurant. They called to us to join them. The woman dining alone sat nearby. Our friends lost their son a couple of years ago. Eventually, our conversation included him…mentioning him by name, telling a funny story or two, comforting her and telling her at two years, it’s still ok to cry. It’s always ok to cry.

The waitress came back to give us our check and I chose that moment to speak to the woman dining alone. We made direct eye contact.

“I remember the first time I went to a restaurant alone after my husband died.”

She looked at me steadily. I recognized the sadness in her eyes. I sat there…many times.

“It doesn’t really help to be asked…’Oh…you’re alone?’ The first time I went to our favorite restaurant, I opened my iPad and pulled up my favorite picture of my husband and propped him up on the table so I didn’t feel so alone.”

“Yes…it’s really hard. Especially when someone comes up to you after a year and a half and asks ‘Where’s Paul?’”

The waitress whirled around. It just dawned on her what had happened. She opened her mouth to say something and I quickly said, “It’s not your fault. You aren’t clairvoyant so you had no way of knowing.” But now she’ll be more aware the next time someone comes in unaccompanied.

As we were leaving, I glanced over at the woman dining alone and gave her a long, knowing look and a gentle smile. She smiled back and waved.

God moments. He gives us the people we need to help…and to help us.

❤️

“He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing.”
Deuteronomy 10:18 NIV

A Thousand Dragonflies

Mon, 26 Aug 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“The dragonflies are prolific this year!”

I love dragonflies. They serve a good purpose by eating mosquitos and other flying insects and they don’t bite humans! I am charmed by them. They will light on your finger or your shoulder. They hover around you as if to keep you company or to satisfy their curiosity. The other day I was leaving the doctor’s office and one flew alongside my window for at least a quarter mile. They make me smile.

Mr. FixIt and I were out cleaning the pool on Saturday and there was a dragonfly floating dead in the water. We both remarked how many more dragonflies there are the last couple of years. I did some research and found it’s because of all the rain we’ve been getting. With more rain comes more mosquitoes and consequently, the predators are in hot pursuit.

Somehow, I missed a big spot when I was mowing Saturday so I went out after church yesterday to finish up. I sat at the edge of the field in awe at the number of dragonflies hovering around me. From the website, Dragonfly Transitions, comes this: “In almost every part of the world, the Dragonfly symbolizes change, transformation, adaptability, and self-realization. The change that is often referred to has its source in mental and emotional maturity and understanding the deeper meaning of life.”

Change. Transformation. Adaptability. Self-Realization. If that doesn’t describe my life, I don’t know what does. This year has been, and continues to be one of remarkable opportunities…for travel, for growth, for learning…for becoming MORE. I love this, because the moment we stop growing, we die. Maybe not literally…but figuratively. A stagnant life is a fate worse than death for me.

I’ve said several times in the last week that I’ve been thinking a lot of my mom. I’ve been really missing her…more so than usual. As I was working with my calendar last night, I noticed today’s date. August 26th. My mom’s birthday. She’s been gone fifteen years now. She would have been 93 today. She died six weeks before her first great grandchild was born. As I sat rocking my second great grandchild in church yesterday, I thought of my mom and how much she loved children. She worked in the YWCA Daycare program and was the resident Grandma to hundreds of little ones. You couldn’t see her at work without some little person sitting on her lap at her desk.

I was thinking it would be great to relate Mom to the appearance of the dragonflies…for the purposes of this essay, at least. But, I have no idea if she loved dragonflies. She probably did. I do know she loved the color purple…and roses, books, peaches, piccalilli, tchotchkes, helping people, and genealogy. She loved her grandchildren. And she was totally devoted to my brother who has cerebral palsy.

No…we have dragonflies because it’s been a rainy year. And, I miss my mom so much because today’s her birthday. Two unrelated events, but yet both are symbolic of transformation and adaptability.

Here’s to Wanda Belle…an amazing and humble woman. Everyone who knew her, loved her and misses her. Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mama!

❤️

“So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy.”
John 16:22 NLT

I Miss My Camper!

Thu, 22 Aug 2019 01:30:52 -0600

“It’s amazing how a queen size mattress fits in there.”

I’m missing my camper. I still have Big TOW-Wanda, but she’s not equipped to camp in right now. I removed her shades as soon as I bought her and they were stored at the farm. At the beginning of summer, I was seriously considering selling her because I had the little camper. I brought the shade back from the farm and they are on the floor, the bed isn’t made, and it’s too hot to sleep out there unless the AC is running. Every time I try to turn on the AC with the camper connected to the house, it trips the circuit. Now that Little TOW-Wanda is gone, I’m having second thoughts about selling the big camper. It would be really nice to have a seasonal site on the river and she would be perfect for that.

So, we have been sleeping in the house. We got really spoiled by the memory foam mattress in the little camper. It’s honestly the best sleep we’ve both had because we toss and turn a lot at night. The old mattress we have in the house shakes like crazy every time one of us rolls over. Not so with memory foam. You could drop a bowling ball on one side and not wake the other person. We managed to salvage the mattress out of the little camper before I sold it in Colorado, but we couldn’t figure out a way to get it and everything else home. We decided to give it to Ben & Sue and put it in their guest bedroom.

We finally decided to give in and buy a mattress just like the one in the little camper. We had to do some sleuthing, but we finally found the same mattress by Serta for sale at Sam’s Club. After several trips to our local Sam’s, we never found the queen size in stock so we ordered it online and it arrived yesterday.

I don’t know if you have ever seen how these mattresses are shipped or not. They come vacuum packed and rolled up tightly, wrapped in heavy plastic, and shipped in a box. And, they are heavy! I managed to get the old mattress off the bed and when Mr. FixIt got home, we unpacked the new mattress and placed it on the box springs. We unwrapped it, unrolled it, and took the protective vacuum bag off. Like magic it went from a compressed three inch thick mat to a perfect twelve inch thick mattress in a matter of minutes! It was astonishing!

Now that we have a memory foam mattress inside, will we ever sleep outside in the field in a camper again? Oh, you can bet your boots we will. We’ll just have to wait till it gets cooler. And, it won’t be too long till we can pick up the new camper at the RV show and it will be a moot point anyway. Lots of camping adventures are in the works. I’ve started making and strategizing! In the meantime, I am determined to sleep like a baby on this wonderful new mattress!

❤️

“Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping.”
Matthew 8:24 NIV

Do You Remember When.....?

Tue, 20 Aug 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Clockwise from Top Right: Phone Booth, Fireweed, Joe Pye Weed, Naked Ladies (Belladona Lily)

Mr. FixIt took the day off yesterday. I had to run a couple of errands, but I was back home by noon. The temperature was already well into the 90’s by then and I actually had the thought…”Ok, I’m done. I’m ready for FALL!” Cool, crisp days with a warm sweater, sipping a mug of cider while gazing at the changing of the leaves suddenly sounds very appealing to me. And this from a woman who hates fall because winter is right behind it. Not this year…I’m ready for this sweltering heat wave to break.

We never did put the window air conditioner in the family room this summer. Mostly because we were gone a lot. And also, it didn’t get all that hot till we were ready to leave on our big trip out west. At this point, I told Mr. FixIt we should just skip that particular ordeal this year altogether. It is quite a chore getting that huge air conditioner into the window and before we know it, we won’t need it anyway. That being said, we were both tired of the heat by 5:00 so he asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with him.

We love going for drives in the countryside. West Virginia has the best roads for drives and there’s always something interesting around the next bend. We kept remarking how overgrown everything is from all the rain this summer. Old abandoned houses are all but swallowed up by vines that threaten to take them by force into the woods. The Joe Pye Weed covers the roadsides with its smoky pink blossoms. Naked Ladies (Belladona Lilies) poke their heads up in the corners of rural lawns. Dark pink Fireweed mingles with Goldenrod, Queen Anne’s Lace, and Black-eyed Susans. They all look like weeds, but they are West Virginia’s cacophony of late summer wildflowers.

We had no idea where we would end up. We drove past the greenhouses in Palestine and saw they are filled with baskets of mums that will bloom in October. We drove past the place where they used to produce railroad ties. Mr. FixIt said the trucks traveled by night because their loads were always way over the weight limit. He said you could tell it was the railroad ties because the heavy night air smelled of creosote long after they’d passed.

We finally pulled into Spencer, West Virginia…an old town built on the backs of the oil, gas, and timber industries. There are some beautiful old houses there. At one time, the State Psychiatric Hospital was located there and if you weren’t good growing up, “you’ll get hauled off to Spencer” was fair warning to shape up. Now it’s just like any other tired, old town in the Mountain State…bored adolescent boys yelling from passing cars, bored adolescent girls giggling in the booth at Wendy’s over a series of texts and photos they were sharing. An old man climbed into a car with barely enough room for him to sit in the driver’s seat. The rest of the car was filled wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling with trash. Literal trash. He opened the door to the back seat and carefully placed his half-full cup of soda on top of the pile, closed the door, and got in to drive off to who knows where.

The Wendy’s was impeccably clean inside so we stopped for a bite to eat before we drove on to Ripley, then past Ravenswood to Mineral Wells and on home. Mr. Fixit said it would be dark by the time we got home and he was right. I love these kind of evenings with him…away from the television, going for a drive, holding hands and laughing and telling stories. It occurred to me, one of the very best things about our relationship is…even though we’ve only been together since late 2016, we have so many memories in common. We were best friends in high school. While he lived all but a few years of his life within a 20 mile radius of where we were born, I lived two years in England and forty years in Colorado. But, I still came home for a visit every year so I had my finger on the pulse of my hometown. We lived our lives in a parallel trajectory for sixty-some years before our paths crossed for good. We have much of the same history and memories.

As the sun was beginning to make it’s last glorious descent over the beautiful Ohio River, I saw this phone booth standing alone near the Wendy’s parking lot. I turned to Mr FixIt and smiled.

“Do you remember when…..?”

❤️

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
Luke 2:19 NIV

Bowling Season Has Begun

Mon, 19 Aug 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“Pink roses and strawberries…and bowling season. Somebody loves me!”

Mr. FixIt is an avid bowler. He’s been on two bowling leagues for the last thirty-five years and he enjoys it immensely. He has friends there. He has ample opportunity to talk. It’s his guy time. And, I enjoy having a couple of evenings a week to do whatever I want to do as well. Honestly, I fell asleep late in the afternoon and didn’t hear him leave. When I woke up, I caught up with my Sunday evening phone calls and chats so it was a relaxing evening.

When he arrived home, he went into the kitchen to fix something to eat and we were trying to carry on a conversation while I was in the family room. He called out, “You know…I could hear you better if you were in here with me.” Of course! Sometimes we get so wrapped up in what we’re doing, we forget the basic manners and niceties we should offer those we love most.

I walked into the kitchen and there on the counter was a dozen pink roses and two cartons of fresh strawberries! I am always thunderstruck when he surprises me with these lovely unexpected gifts of love.

I looked at him and smiled. “What’s this?”

“It’s been a little while since I brought you flowers. It was time.” He smiled back.

What goodness this is…this life that is sweeter than any red strawberry…softer than any pink rosebud. This is a blessing. This is God’s gift to me. This man who lifts me up and celebrates who I am. Who cheers me on and encourages me to explore and be everything I can be. This man who holds my hand in church and prays alongside me. Who holds me and comforts me when I am sick or sad. I only pray I give him this same love back every day of my life.

There was so much sadness in my life after Mr. Virgo died. I swore I would never fall in love…never remarry…because the thought of going through that again was too much to bear. Then color came back into my life. And I could hear music and I could breathe and somehow I knew I could love again. I don’t know how long we have together…but it’s bowling season and I have strawberries and pink roses and my life is good.

❤️

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4 NIV

“Let The Sun Shine...”

Sun, 18 Aug 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“The Ubiquitous Photo from Woodstock”

Fifty years ago this weekend, a gazillion people descended on Mr. Yasgur’s New York farm just five hundred miles from where I grew up. What started out as a ticketed music event soon devolved into chaos as tens of thousands of unticketed hippies made their way into the tiny village of Bethel. The festival had already suffered a last minute change of venue and was seriously short on cash, but there came a point where Woodstock took on a life of its own.

Fifty years have passed. I didn’t go, of course. I was only sixteen and actually didn’t even hear about it till it was on the news. Not that I would have done something so brazen as to defy my parents because I know they never would have allowed me to go. I never even skipped a class in school, let alone run off to a hippy concert five hundred miles away. Still, I marveled at the mass of humanity. And, I liked the music.

It was such a crazy summer…the Summer of ‘69. The Summer of Love. That’s what we called it. But the older generations thought we young people were out of our minds. Sex, drugs, and Rock & Roll. And now look where we are. I saw a meme today. A grandpa was saying he fought in WWII and built his house with his own two hands. His great grandson said, “Sometimes I put a meme on Facebook and it gets a lot of likes.” That is so sad…and unfortunately, all too true.

We didn’t have the internet in 1969. We didn’t have the news on 24/7/365. We didn’t have violent video games. We didn’t have as many latch key kids and no iPad kids or YouTube kids. Dr. Spock was just beginning to tell us how to raise our kids and to never swat their butts or we would bruise their fragile self-esteems. I’ll tell you what, if I sassed back to my parents, they bruised my “self-esteem” with whatever was handy. I did the same with my kids. Nowadays, you can have your kids taken away for that. And they know it.

I remember Daughter #1 saying she was going to call Child Protective Services because I wouldn’t let her go to a party. I smiled and recited the number to her. Then I took her car keys. It’s hard to parent now. Having the grandkids over this week with their own little ones made me compare how easy I had it compared to what they are facing. And I didn’t have it all that easy.

After my first divorce, I was a single mom in Denver. My family lived in West Virginia. I didn’t have anyone I could leave the baby with while I went to work. I had to find child care…and pray they wouldn’t hurt my daughter. I lived in HUD housing, on food stamps and WIC. I drove a beat up old Pontiac that I paid some Iranians $200 for. The hood and the trunk were wired closed with coat hangers. All four sides were dented in. I prayed every day I could get to work so I could take care of us. I didn’t have a smart phone and five sets of grandparents to step in when I was overwhelmed.

God knows, I made plenty of mistakes in those early years. It’s a wonder we made it through. The music of 1969 was five years old before my daughter was born. I look back now in awe. I knew I’d be “old” someday. I just thought it would take longer. Oh, sixty-six isn’t OLD, exactly. I sure feel the difference, just in the last couple of years. Mr. FixIt and I work very hard and it’s taking it’s toll. I hurt in places that never hurt before. It takes me a bit to get moving. But, like my husband says…you’ve got to keep moving or you’ll stop.

Fifty years since Woodstock…and there’s a real part of me that genuinely feels a little past my prime. However, I’m about to take a brand new camper wherever I want for five months and write about it! Isn’t that just about the coolest thing? I wouldn’t take who I was in 1969 back for anything!

“Let the sun shine…let the sun shine in…the sun…shine in!”

❤️

“I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,”
2 Peter 1:13 NIV

There’s Babies Everywhere!

Fri, 16 Aug 2019 01:30:34 -0600

“There’s nothing sweeter than a sleeping baby!”

I have to tell ya…I’m fried. There’s a reason God gives babies to young people. We do not normally babysit for the great grandkids. Our life keeps us moving around a lot and we love to visit with them and play with them and send them home with their mamas. Nothing wrong with that. But our services were really needed yesterday, so we had an extra busy two-year-old with us for fourteen hours.

We also have our grandson and his girlfriend and the new baby with us for a couple of days. He is helping his grandpa with a bunch of work around the Ponderosa. Just like I was telling you about the farm yesterday, all this rain has created a jungle out there and the saplings that weren’t such a big deal last year, are towering trees this summer. Combine that with all the vines that have gone crazy and you couldn’t even see between the building out back and the fence six feet away. The grandson is a hard worker, I’ll tell you that.

While the babies were being babied, Nana smoked two big pork butts and four full racks of ribs. I’ve decided whenever I fire up the smoker, I’ve packing it as full as I can while still getting good air flow for the smoke. Because this thing is a pain in the rear to clean. I also processed all that meat when it was done, served dinner three times as people came and went, and then went out and cleaned the pool. It was a busy day that didn’t end till midnight!

The neighbor across the road from the farm gave me a grocery sack of fresh vegetables as I left and the sweet corn was SO delicious. I love the tastes of summer! Last night the air was nice and cool and we slept with the windows wide open. It was wonderful! I love this time of year when the nights are cool.

❤️

“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man.”
Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 ESV

The Metamorphosis of Grief

Thu, 15 Aug 2019 01:30:57 -0600

“The Farm. Clockwise from top left: Drying the laundry on the front porch is a country thing, Elderberries, A Rose of Sharon appeared from nowhere, Life is Simple, An Appalachian Pour Over, Blue granite pan used for dipping water out of the rain barrel.

Living in the country, you see many examples of metamorphosis. Where there once was a hairy caterpillar, there becomes a moth. Where there once was a striped green worm with a spiky tail, noshing on a milkweed leaf, there becomes a monarch butterfly. Where there once was a grub with legs, crawling up a tree and developing a hard shell, it soon splits and a locust emerges to call in the autumn season…signaling it’s time for school to start.

Just as there is a time for everything in its season, so it is with grief. I was thinking about this yesterday while I was trimming back the wild grape vines threatening to overtake the farm. When this blog began, I was fresh in my grief. I promised you then I would be honest and speak to you from my heart about exactly what it was like…at least for me…to go through the loss of my husband. There were times when it was so painfully ugly that it had to be difficult to read. Yet, so many of you have been here from the very beginning.

This blog goes through a metamorphosis every time something changes in my life. What started out as a method of pouring out my pain, morphed into learning how to navigate that. It changed and grew just as I changed and grew. It’s not just a grief blog, although there are hundreds of posts in the archives about grief. There was a time, when my grief had subsided to a nagging undercurrent, when I thought maybe I should just quit and make it all about grief. Just leave it there. But I couldn’t stop writing.

Writing became a part of me…as much a part of me as my hands and feet, my heart and lungs. So I decided to take you with me when I traveled, when I stepped into the dating arena, when I got married. I thought…ok, maybe I’m done now. Maybe I’ll just stop here. But, I kept living…and each new day brought a new experience, a new insight, and new lesson. And it became my devotional.

In a good cake recipe, bland ingredients like flour get mixed with sweet ingredients like sugar and butter. If baked with nothing else added, you wouldn’t have cake…you’d have some hard, flat, dry cardboard. But add eggs and leavening….take your time….and mix it well….and it rises high and beautiful. My life…my stories…my experiences are the flour and sugar. The scripture at the bottom of each post…illustrating my thinking in that particular moment…that’s the leavening. The eggs. The ingredient that makes the finished product perfect.

I know it’s not a grief blog so much anymore, even though I touch on the topic from time to time. That’s the nature of metamorphosis. Things are always changing…even grief. The numbing pain of the first year, the sharp pain of the second year, the personal growth of my third year, the stretching of my wings in the fourth, the explorations of the fifth, and finally…being remarried in the sixth…my grief has gone through its own metamorphosis and has settled into an undercurrent. A background noise that I have become accustomed to, yet it’s still very much there.

❤️

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”
2 Corinthians 3:18 ESV

The Farm is Failing

Wed, 14 Aug 2019 01:30:36 -0600

“The farm is the home of my heart…but it’s aging rapidly.”

Mr. FixIt and I have been back from Colorado for a week now. We talked over the weekend and decided to go to the farm for a couple of days because I haven’t been there since the third week of June. I really miss the farm when I’m away and can’t get there. Then, Monday morning came and there was so much to get done at the Ponderosa. Still…the farm…

I decided to bring the dirty laundry and come to the farm on my own for a couple of days. Mr. FixIt is capable of taking care of himself and, while he misses me…he understands my need to be at the farm sometimes. He’s a good guy.

There was a hard rain come through yesterday. I sat on the front porch and watched and it was soon over. The sun came out and the green dazzled my eyes. Everything was so clean and fresh. I sat for the longest time and just scoured the hillside and surrounding area…looking for differences.

The power line coming to the transformer on the pole in front of the house is noticeably drooping down low over the road. A tall vehicle could easily catch that. I’ll have to report it today. Also, the big pine tree on the bank seems to be leaning further out there over the driveway. I pulled up older pictures from the same vantage point to verify both the line and the tree. Something’s going to have to be done with that, too.

I noticed Monday afternoon, there’s a wild grape vine on the power line between the house and the cinderblock building. None of that was there before I left for Colorado. This monsoon summer has created an overgrowth the likes of which I have never seen here. It’s like a tropical rain forest.

When I did a walkabout yesterday, I noticed another tree on the hillside across the creek from the house that has split in half. But it appears the uphill half is actually falling up the hill. That has always been the main concern here. This little holler is so narrow, and the ground is shale and very soft. It wouldn’t take much to bring trees down on this house.

Maybe the earth is taking her back. Maybe it’s the natural progression of old farm houses. I do know, to bring this place back to life and prosperity would take far more money than it’s worth. And, a ton…an absolute TON of work. We’re not OLD…but we are 66 and 67. The other day, I told Mr. FixIt…if we were just 30 years younger, we could do so much with this place.

I think what I have to do is start saying goodbye to the old home place…in earnest. I know there will come a time when it isn’t safe to stay here without cutting down a bunch of trees…without upgrading the electricity…without shoring up the beams in the basement and the attic. My time here is getting shorter…I can feel it. I’m working on girding my heart in preparation.

It’s like the old man who can tell it’s going to rain by the pain in his knee. The only difference is…this pain is in my heart.

❤️

“"Is it a time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?”
Haggai 1:4 ESV

Nana & Papaw & Baby Boo!

Thu, 08 Aug 2019 01:30:56 -0600

“Nana needed some baby snuggles before we went home!”

We made it back to West Virginia, safe and sound..thank you, God! But, we absolutely couldn’t go home without seeing the baby! Our little great grandson arrived nearly two weeks ago and we stopped to get a snuggle. Oh, he’s so sweet! We had the bonus of our great granddaughter visiting as well!

I have to tell you…we are so tired. I drove all but the last 20 miles after we stopped to see the baby. Just over 5400 miles since June 27th! I figured out the other day, I have been home exactly four days since June 5th. I knew this was going to be a busy summer but this is a little crazy!

Tomorrow’s another day. But for now…I’ve got to get some sleep. We’re both whupped!

❤️

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8 NIV

No Worse for the Wear

Fri, 02 Aug 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“While once sleek and shiny, these vehicles still hold a deep beauty.”

We left Ridgway yesterday saying goodbye to our friends, Linda and Jim. We both choked up…goodbyes have always been difficult for me ever since I lost Mr. Virgo. We just don’t know if and when we will meet again and it tears at my heartstrings. I know Linda loves Colorado, but deep down, she has that Ohio farm girl in there somewhere. I loved watching her as she listened to Mr. FixIt’s unmistakable West Virginia accent and she was transported back over the years and the miles to the home of her youth.

Even though we didn’t go to the same high school with Linda, we know many of the same people…one of whom is Jeff. He and his wife Julie moved to the Ridgway area a couple of years ago. It’s funny how the webs of friendship cross over. Linda and Jeff were both friends with Cindy (a girl from my class) and that’s how they connected. I am friends with Cindy and that’s how Linda connected with me and the connection with Jeff was made through Linda and because he was on the boy’s gymnastics team while I competed with the girl’s team the same year. And….Mr. FixIt was on that same team with Jeff! See what a teeny tiny world it is? Jeff and Julie joined us for dinner at Linda’s Wednesday night. Mr. FixIt hadn’t seen Jeff in forty-eight years. There were lots of stories and laughs and we all had a grand time.

We drove north out of Ridgway, through Montrose and Olathe (home of Olathe Sweet Corn) and on to Delta. I kept my eyes peeled for a place I found when I was on “The Grand Adventure”…that three month odyssey into the wilderness and backroads after Mr. Virgo died. It’s just a vacant lot on the main drag that’s filled with old, broken down cars and trucks. I don’t know why it attracted me that first time, but I couldn’t wait to show Mr. FixIt.

We were almost to our turnoff to head east over McClure Pass when I saw them. Red vehicles…either from the faded and flaked paint or the rust beneath. Some had their hoods strapped down. Others had holes in the glass from years of being the target of vandals or the errant stone thrown back in the day when they motored down the highways of old. Mr. FixIt caught his breath.

“Oh, wow! Would you look at that!” A smile crept across his face and his eyes sparkled like a little boy who just found the coolest treasure stuck on a dusty shelf. I immediately pulled over and threw the truck in park. We jumped out and walked up and down the rows of derelict automobiles resting on their rims because of long ago rotted and airless tires. We peeked in through hazy windows at the scraps of stuffing clinging to the old and rusted springs of the seats inside.

“Oh, look! Is that a Nash? A Studebaker? What’s this one? Ford used to make a Cortina. Do you suppose that’s what this one is?” This went on and on as we dodged the large mud holes formed from the afternoon storms we’ve been getting and made our way through the maze of cars.

As I looked at these rusted out hulks, I thought about beauty being in the eye of the beholder. I have to be perfectly honest…I’ve had some trepidation about the wedding this weekend. My daughter’s dad lives in a world I no longer belong to. He’s a doctor, and consequently lives like a doctor in a fine house. With fine friends. And a fine wife. Fine furnishings. Fine food. A fine life. I used to circle in that orbit, although I never really felt a part of that world, although I tried very hard to make myself fit in.

I have to admit. I’ve let myself be a little self conscious about my comfortable tummy and my jelly thighs and my granny-wing upper arms knowing ever so painfully how that was judged by those in that orbit. I’ve been praying about it a lot. And God whispered to me as I wandered amongst these vehicles what were once sleek and shiny and new.

“You don’t have to fear that world. You don’t have to feel bad for the way you fit in your body all comfy-like. You don’t have to concern yourself with what anyone else thinks of you….just remember I love you. Completely. Just the way you are. Just love them all the way I love you.”

You see…the very act of feeling self conscious and judged puts me in a place where I’m being the judge. I don’t know what’s in their hearts and minds. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since those days so long ago when I circled around that orbit. It’s a foreign land to me now. I have no reason to feel “less than” anyone. I can walk right in, on the arm of a man I adore and who adores me right back. We’ve created a life that fits us perfectly and we’re perfectly happy.

It’s all about love, trust, letting go, and letting God take care of the details. I’m comfortable in this life, this body…no matter where I go or who I run into. None of this is about me anyway. It’s totally about my daughter and her joy anyway. Yes…it’s all about love!

❤️

“Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be angry beyond measure, Lord; do not remember our sins forever. Oh, look on us, we pray, for we are all your people.” Isaiah 64:8-9 NIV

Abundance

Mon, 29 Jul 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Heading into the Weminuche Wilderness”

Joyful abundance! Mr. FixIt is such a great traveler. I love showing him places he hasn’t seen. As a matter of fact, he told me the other night his neck hurts from swiveling back and forth, trying to take it all in. We arrived in Pagosa Springs on Friday afternoon. This is where Mr. Virgo and I lived in 2008. He was the General Manager for a 4200 acre luxury resort here and I did the marketing and catering. It was a short-lived position as our job was to try to turn their losses into profits and try as we might, it was not to be. This is the nature of being a fixer. If you can’t, they close and you lose your job. If you can, they sell and you lose your job. We didn’t really expect to be there long term.

Pagosa Springs is a gorgeous area and I enjoyed the rugged beauty of it. I did not like the short summer, long winter, and gobs of snow. So I was just as happy to get out of there and move on. Still, it is someplace I wanted Mr. FixIt to see and experience. We went out for a wonderful breakfast yesterday morning then headed to the backroads. Mr. Virgo and I used to spend every day off exploring the many dirt roads in the Weminuche Wilderness. This is where I came when I started my grief journey in Little TOW-Wanda. I carried strands of Mr. Virgo’s silver hair into the dense woods above Williams Lake and buried them at the base of a tree, affixing a cross to mark the spot.

We didn’t walk back into the woods yesterday. That wasn’t part of the deal. That was mine…my memory. As a matter of fact, as we drove deeper and deeper into the woods, I felt Mr. Virgo so strongly…as if he were gliding along with us. I told Mr. FixIt story after story. Here’s where we worked. Here’s where we shopped. Here’s where we loved to eat dinner. There’s the car wash where they had to unfreeze the doors so we could get out. That little bakery has the best pastries. This restaurant has the best coffee. My sweet husband held my hand and smiled and nodded and encouraged me to share because he knows this helps me heal and move forward.

Then…in the middle of the afternoon, we found out…great grandchild #3 is on the way!!! Another little boy…arriving in January!!!

My heart is about to explode! THIS!!! This is what I so very nearly lost in January 2000 when I overdosed. At the time, my world was so small, so dark, so difficult and I couldn’t see anything beyond that darkness. And now…look at this! My world is so blessed with such abundance and joy, I can hardly contain myself! Babies! The Wedding! My sweet husband! My wonderful family! My health! My heart!

Thank you…..thank you dearest Heavenly Father…for healing my family…for healing me…for giving me Mr. Virgo to show me I was worthy of earthly love…for giving me Mr. FixIt for helping me through the most difficult period of my life…and for this tremendous family, mine and his, that brings our numbers up and up and up! I’m so high on life, you have to scrape me off the clouds!

❤️

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV

One of These Things is Not Like the Other...a BABY!

Sun, 28 Jul 2019 01:30:28 -0600

“Clockwise, top left: Hollyhocks, Toes along the San Juan River, The view from Independence Pass, and….Baby Boo!!!!!”

It was a beautiful day for a baby! We had a leisurely breakfast and headed through Aspen and up Independence Pass. Mr. Fixit ooooohed and aaaaahed all the way. He’s never seen the likes of Colorado’s beauty. We stopped at the top of the pass and I was going to walk out to the windy point to take pictures but I could hardly catch my breath at 12,000+ feet elevation so I elected to stay in the car taking slow, deep breaths. I was glad to get down lower.

We stopped here and there. When I saw the sign for the turnoff to St. Elmo, I hung a right and went back in time to the 1800’s. It has probably been 40 years since I was there. We looked around at the old buildings and antiques. We sat on a bench and ate ice cream. And we finally climbed back in the truck and headed further south.

Along about Saguache…the phone rang and all I could hear was a tiny baby boy crying. “Wait….OMGosh!!! Is that a baby????? He’s here already????” Yes! Our tiny little Boo made his debut at around 5:30 eastern time weighing in at 6lbs13oz! And, of course….he’s perfect!!!

So, the mountains and the flowers, the river and the relaxing beside it….all pale in comparison to being a great grandma…again! What more could I tell you about today??? Thank you God, for protecting Mommy & Daddy and Nana’s little Boo!

❤️

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.”
John 16:21 NIV

A Glimpse of Heaven

Thu, 25 Jul 2019 01:30:08 -0600

“A Glimpse of Heaven in the Colorado Night Sky”

I knew this would happen. I blinked and a month flew by. I left on this journey exactly four weeks ago. Time is such a weird thing after loss. On the one hand…it flies. On the other…it stands still. I got some quality time with my Colorado family. Mr. FixIt has been here almost two weeks already. The package I’ve been expecting for my brother arrived yesterday so now we can pack up and go off on a little adventure on our own before the wedding.

Grandma L. is still hanging in there. She is such a strong woman. She rallies and fades, rallies and fades. They moved her from her apartment at assisted living to a skilled nursing facility on Monday. She had a dream on Tuesday night. At least, she thinks it was a dream. She was lying in bed and her legs felt like stone. But then, she was standing up…strong and vital. She looked around it was so glorious. She saw a crevice and knew she was supposed to jump over it. She knew she COULD. She didn’t see Grandpa right off, but she knew she could find him easily. Instead, she decided to come back and tell us all how absolutely peaceful and grand it is. I love that she could see it all so clearly and she isn’t afraid.

I know she might pass away while we are gone, but I didn’t want to wear her out by adding to the number of visitors going to see her. There are other closer relatives who need to spend time with her. I was able to hug on her last Saturday at her birthday party and she absolutely knows how I feel about her. Her absence will leave a gaping hole for quite some time in the lives of those who knew and loved her.

We all went out for supper last night after they moved everything out of Grandma’s apartment at the assisted living place. There were twelve of us. As I walked back to the table with my food, I paused for a moment and gazed over this beautiful family my daughter was so fortunate to marry into. Another part of my bonus family. We are so blessed…with kids and their kids and us grandparents. We are becoming the matriarchs. I thought it would take longer.

Mr. FixIt and I will head out today for a week of touring the state. We were supposed to do this with the camper, but it’ll all work out without it. I love showing him places he’s never been! So…here we go on another road trip, y’all. Hang on!

❤️

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 NIV

One Small Step

Sun, 21 Jul 2019 01:30:08 -0600

“One small step…”

It was a sultry summer night…Sunday, July 20, 1969. We had been watching the news over the previous week or so about the astronauts that were going to walk on the moon. I was all of sixteen…that magical age where you’re caught somewhere between Barbies and boys. We didn’t have screens on the windows but it was too hot to leave them closed. We absentmindedly swatted away the mosquitoes as we ate ice cream and stared at the flickering grey screen.

Hippies were preparing for Woodstock. Giggling teenagers were having slumber parties. We were rolling our hair on juice cans and wearing bellbottomed jeans. We popped our gum and knew all about Archie and Veronica’s exploits. Dad would complain about the “yippies” next door playing their drums too loud and the cars that went too fast up our dirt street. A couple of times a week, a Jeep would drive up the road spraying DDT into the neighborhood to keep the mosquito population down to a reasonable level. And once a month or so, a different truck would come and spray oil or tar down on the dusty dirt. The first day out after they sprayed, our bare feet would be covered with a half inch think glob of sandy tar turning our soles into…well, soles.

It was the summer of love. My foster sister was going to school all summer in Athens to get a certificate for preschool education. She wrote me long letters and on the back of each envelope she drew a picture of a bunny and wrote “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69” in an arc above its head. The war in Vietnam was cranking up, but we were young and in love with ourselves and life in general. War was something that happened so far away, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with us. But, in all actuality, we were living in difficult, tumultuous times in this country. We were just too young to really understand it all.

And now, here we were in a darkened room, sweat trickling down our backs, waiting for Neil Armstrong to take “one small step for [a] man…one giant leap for mankind.” I remember being absolutely mesmerized by this amazing feat. This was one of those landmark moments in time. A moment when there was a before and after and nothing would be the same again. It was a unifying event and we all held our collective breath in the moment.

Here it is…fifty years later. Where did that time go? It seems I blinked and now I have great grandchildren. I’m feeling particularly nostalgic because I am here with my Colorado family. Yesterday we celebrated the 90th birthday of the matriarch of my son-in-law’s family. Grandma’s health has been failing this week but by golly, she rallied yesterday and seventeen of us gathered to shower her with our love and ate strawberry shortcake…her all time favorite. Afterwards, we left Grandma to get some rest and went out to dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory.

It was one of those days we will remember always…when Grandma’s sun was shining and the moon echoed with the memories of another hot summers’ night, so long ago.

❤️

“it will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky.”” Psalm 89:37 NIV

Revisiting Memories

Sat, 13 Jul 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Daughter #2…Marching to her own drum!”

When Daughter #2 was thirteen years old, she and I took off for a three week road trip. It was epic. She was not only in that early teenager mode. We were also working on repairing the damage done from years of depression and too many prescriptions and martinis…not to mention the overdose. It took a lot out of our relationship.

When I arrived in Denver this visit, the ultimate goal is the wedding. My baby is getting married. My little Moon Pie. Only, she’s a full grown woman…out on her own…thriving…dancing to her own drum, as always. We saw each other the day after I got here and spent several hours visiting and dining out. She made me promise we would do one special thing…just the two of us…before the wedding.

She wanted to go antiquing.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Antiquing? This poor kid was dragged, kicking and screaming, into every antique store in West Virginia, I think. And several between there and Colorado. I loved going to antique stores. She did not. So, this was new. I asked her what brought on this miraculous transformation.

“I don’t know. Just…suddenly, I find myself looking at antiques online. For fun.”

Ladies and gentleman…there IS life after adolescence!!!

So, yesterday was our antiquing adventure. We started out by having lunch with Daughter #1, Big, and Little. Oh…if you have children, you know what that did to my heart…sitting there with my Colorado kids! ❤️melt After lunch, Daughter #2 and I went to the Brass Armadillo off I-70 and Kipling.

We walked in and she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

“This place is HUGE!”

Yes, my girl…it is!

We wandered around for three hours. She kept grabbing my arm and pulling me over to see this or that. Lots of oooohs and aaaahs and wows. Several times she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight and thanked me so much for doing this with her. That’s when I realized…this was SO much more than going to see a bunch of old stuff.

This was a celebration. Of healing. Of love. Of warm memories shared. Even of forgiveness. This was a bonding ritual…something only she and I could share as the wedding rapidly approaches and her life is forever changed. This was incredibly special. And we enjoyed every minute of it.

We didn’t get to see 1/4th of the store before we were both fried. We left arm in arm and headed out to the truck. I drove her back to her car. As she prepared to leave she reached over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you, mamacita. That was so much fun!”

You’re welcome, Moon Pie.

❤️

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.”
Psalm 127:3 NIV

Hail, Hail...The Gang’s All Here!

Fri, 05 Jul 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“The beauty of sunshine and lilies.”

Daughter #2 and I got a chance to spend a few hours together yesterday. We had coffee at the house then went shopping at Target. Man, that store has changed since the last time I went there. I used to shop Target all the time, but we don’t have one anywhere near where we live in West Virginia. After shopping at Walmart all these years, Target looks like an upscale department store.

We went out to breakfast at Sam’s No. 3…a wonderful diner in Cherry Creek that has the most extensive menu I think I have ever seen. Eggs Benedict was my choice yesterday and it was divine. If you ever go to Denver and get to spend any time there, you really should go.

We had a big family gathering with those who were in town yesterday. Lots of food and homemade ice cream. The fireworks were going off all around us. And Mother Nature provided some of her own! We had two big storms blow through with a tornado watch and lots of hail. It did succeed in cooling things off immensely, which was very nice.

I showed the girls the dresses I’ve bought that I could wear to the wedding and we all agreed on one. Also, I gave them the quilt I made for their wedding gift and they loved it! It was a beautiful day with my Colorado family.

❤️

“Listen to your father, who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old.”
Proverbs 23:22 NIV

The Mother-Daughter Dance

Tue, 02 Jul 2019 01:30:51 -0600

“I am a Happy Camper!”

I danced with my mother. Not literally…but figuratively we went round and round and round. She always knew I loved her and I knew she loved me right back. I made sure of that. But we aggravated the heck out of each other more than I care to admit. We were still moving in that circle when she died rather suddenly at the age of seventy-eight. By that time, my own daughters were well on their way to dancing with me.

My older daughter was very pregnant with my mother’s first great-grandchild and couldn’t come to her grandma’s funeral. I didn’t bring my younger daughter either because she was only nine and in school. I traveled to mom’s funeral alone half the way, meeting up with my Aunt Rosie in the Charlotte Airport for the last flight in.

I have good girls. They are as different as night and day and are often like oil and water, but deep down they love each other because they are sisters. I wasn’t always a very good mother to them. There was that long stretch when I was deeply depressed and nearly non-functional. I drank too much and I took too many prescription drugs. When I overdosed, it ripped the fabric of our relationship and I feared I would never, ever get them back.

We danced our own dance. We went round and round and we didn’t know how to reach each other. I hurt them in ways I couldn’t even begin to fathom till I got well. Then I had to rebuild their trust in me. It was hard, painful work. There were times I was absolutely certain they hated me. But they didn’t really. I wasn’t the only one who had to learn who this new version of me was.

I watch Daughter #1 with her kids. I watch her face some of the same issues I faced and she handles them so much better than I did because she has a wonderful, stable marriage she isn’t also struggling to fix. I love watching her with the girls. Big is learning to drive. She is tall and athletic…a swimmer. She is bright and accomplished and dedicated. Little is part mini-me…part mini-mom. She is petite and eclectic…artistic and sensitive…bright and compassionate. She is a little shooting star.

Last night, I sat at swim practice with Daughter #1 and talked for a couple of hours. It was the first time in a long time that I felt like I didn’t have to hold my breath out of fear I’d say or do the wrong thing and not be the mom I should be. That is baggage I am happy to set down. I knitted while we chatted. There was a warm, easy acceptance that flowed between us and I realized I could relax now. We’re ok. It was a long storm, but we weathered it. We’re better with each other. My heart felt full.

Her kids are older now. She’s had some experience with life that she hadn’t had back when I let them down. I think she gets me a little better these days. We’re all a little older, a little wiser, a little softer. I think now, our dance is sweeter.

❤️

“"Behold, everyone who uses proverbs will use this proverb about you: 'Like mother, like daughter.'” Ezekiel 16:44 ESV

America’s Bread Basket is Baking!

Sun, 30 Jun 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Clockwise from top left: My rig in the summer sun in Kansas, the long straight stretch that is Kansas…look how green!, my digital laser thermometer that I use to check my hub temperatures at every stop, me looking decidedly fresher in the AM than I was by evening!”

You know you are getting into farm and ranch land when you start seeing billboards advertising bovine genetics and DEKALB seed corn. I left the Lazy Day Campground in Danville, Missouri yesterday morning about 8:00. It was a very long, very HOT day. A section of I-70 was closed at Kansas City so I took the recommended detour. I recognized it as the route I usually take anyway to avoid downtown. There is one interchange on the interstate near the city where you have to get from the right hand side onramp to a left hand side exit in less than 1/4 mile. Pulling a camper makes that a real challenge, let me tell you!!! At least it wasn’t with big TOW-Wanda on a Friday night at rush hour. We have to look for the little things!

When I was emptying the tanks on the camper before I left yesterday, it wasn’t 8:00 yet and the sun would take the hide right off of you. The temperature quickly soared to the high 90’s and by the time I was halfway through Kansas, it was 100. The low was only expected to go down to 80 so I stopped and got a hotel room. When I first got in the room, I cranked up the air conditioner and stretched out on the bed. I texted Mr. FixIt and said, “I am NEVER doing this again!!!” He texted back that I don’t have to. I’m holding him to it!

Ok, it was the third day. It was hard. It was hot. I was tired and probably a little hungry and dehydrated. And knowing I have over 350 more miles to go had me feeling really sorry for myself there for a few minutes. But, once I rested for a while and got something to eat and drink, I felt a ton better. When I stop tonight, it’s going to be at my son-in-law’s parents’ house so I’ll be with family. It’s going to take me a week to rest up and acclimate to the altitude. Mr. FixIt will join me on the 13th so that time will pass quickly.

I had a lot of time to think about this as I was driving yesterday. I don’t like being this far away from Mr. FixIt. I thought about that from every angle. I asked myself if it was co-dependency. I don’t think it’s that at all. I do all kinds of things without him and I don’t need to be attached at the hip. I talked with my dear friend Deneene about this last night. She lost her husband unexpectedly about a year after Mr. Virgo died. She is also recently remarried. We decided it’s not co-dependency at all. It’s the fact that we KNOW what can happen and how quickly it can come. I don’t think it’s that I’m doing something without him. It’s that I’m doing something so far away from him and I can’t get to him quickly. THAT I don’t like at all.

Still, it is fun in many ways. I’ve seen some beautiful countryside. The sky was blue and wide open. I’ve forgotten what that looks like living in West Virginia. (I took the picture while driving but my phone was in a cradle and all I did was touch the screen. No eyes off the road for me!) I don’t have anything pressing to do once I get to Denver so I can relax and catch up on my rest, keep myself really hydrated to counteract the altitude, knit, write, and visit with my Colorado peeps. I could not believe how green Kansas is. They had the same long, drawn out, wet spring everyone else had. It is so hard to believe the temperature is in the high 90’s in Colorado and one week ago they had two feet of snow. Crazy weather!

Oh, see that picture bottom right? That’s my digital laser thermometer. After burning up an axle in Indiana two summer ago, I check my hubs religiously…every time I stop and get out of the truck. I know you can just put your hand down there and feel if it’s hot, but how hot is too hot and if it IS that hot, you’ll burn the heck out of your hand. I keep watch on it and it’s always between 100-110. That’s perfect. If it goes up, it means the bearings need grease.

Well, I’m on the last leg of this Grand Adventure. The last leg of the first part of it, anyway! It’s just me and Jesus…making our way west!

❤️

“….“The Lord watch between you and me, when we are out of one another’s sight.”

Genesis 31:49 ESV

#Separation, #Marriage, #Adventure

Travel: Lotsa Learnin’ Goin’ On Here!

Sat, 29 Jun 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“I use a French press a lot when I camp. I have a manual grinder, too.”

So, yesterday morning I took my time waking up. I do that when I travel. My Bible app has a year long study where you read the whole bible in a year. With the trip to Florida, being sick, and getting ready for this trip, I was thirteen days behind. I don’t like to get behind on that one because there’s a good deal to read every day. I spent a little extra time reading while I enjoyed a tasty cup of coffee. I chatted with Mr. FixIt for a while. I finally got on the road about 10:00.

The drive was uneventful. I usually drive in silence because I do my best thinking when I drive. But I wanted to listen to music so I pulled into a rest area and tried to figure out how to connect my phone to the sound system on the truck. It took me a few tries but soon I was bebopping down the highway listening to some praise music.

Around 3:00, I pulled into another rest area and stretched out in front of my hillbilly air conditioner again. When I was almost to St. Louis, Mr. FixIt called. We were chatting as the GPS took me around the city. Still…it was 5:00…on a Friday…in June! Heck of a time to go through there. I wasn’t on the phone long because I needed to concentrate.

Suddenly, two things happened. I noticed the sky got really dark all of a sudden. And, Mavis…my GPS persona…announce I-70 was closed. Closed? Are you kidding me? How do you close a whole interstate. I had to make some quick decisions but the weather did it for me. The sky opened and I was suddenly driving through what looked like a car wash.

I quickly pulled off the highway and into a Denny’s parking lot. I ran through the rain and jumped in the camper. I pulled my vegetable lasagna out of my 12v slow cooker and ate dinner while I watched both an amazing lightning show as well as a band of bright red storms march toward me on the Weather Channel radar.

I looked through the Good Sam Camping Guide and found a campground on the other side of St. Louis. I called and they had one site left. I should have called yesterday morning but I honestly forgot it was Friday. I seldom make reservations when I travel and so far I have never lacked a place to stay.

Before long, the storm was past me and I got back behind the wheel. The detour took about an hour because it was bumper to bumper stop and go traffic for 19 miles. I arrived at the campground and registered. They showed me to my site and it’s perfectly lovely. When I was at Walmart yesterday, I bought a replacement shower head for my camper. I installed it after I arrived last night. Easy peasy. And, the hot water heater worked! Imagine that! We hadn’t even tried it out yet.

As soon as I could, I jumped in that teeny tiny little shower. It was easier to FIX the shower than it was to TAKE one! Once I was all done, I felt like a million bucks. If you look at the map, I am almost exactly at the halfway point. That’s great…but I still have a long way to go! I’m not going to try to make it to Colorado tomorrow. I’ll take it easy and stop in western Kansas or eastern Colorado.

Learned a lot of things today. 1) Make reservations if your camping on a Friday. 2) Pay closer attention to the calendar. 3) Check further ahead for weather and road conditions. 4) Changing a shower head is easy. 5) Listening to praise music is a great prep tool for stressful circumstances!

Enjoy your Saturday!

❤️

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”
James 1:2-4 ESV

The Simple Things

Mon, 24 Jun 2019 01:30:28 -0600

“My birthday present…a shade for the tractor!”

Mr. FixIt and I were in Florida on my birthday. Like most men…smart men, anyway…he wanted me to tell him what I would like for my birthday. I told him, if I were younger, I would dearly love to have a chainsaw. He smiled. I told him all the great things I would do with a chain saw. The only thing is, I don’t have the upper body strength to do much with a chain saw anymore. So it was a rather moot point.

I couldn’t think of anything else. I don’t need tchotchkes. I like to buy my own clothes. I don’t need jewelry or anything fancy. Experiences are the best, but I was even drawing a blank for that. Finally, I told him there would come a moment when I would know exactly what I would like to have for my birthday and he could buy it then.

After church yesterday, we stopped at Lowes to pick up some dust masks so I can mow without worrying about getting another sinus infection. While we were there, I turned to Mr. FixIt.

“Do they make some sort of umbrella or something to put on the riding mower so when I’m out mowing, I’m not sitting out in the hot sun?”

“I’m sure they do, sweetheart. Let’s go look.”

We came around the corner to the riding mower display and there, before my very eyes, was exactly what I wanted! My husband always looks at me in a rather bemused way…as though I’m some sort of strange and exotic creature he’s never seen before. And, I suppose in a way, I am. He has never known a woman who would want a sunshade for the riding mower as her birthday present.

When we got home, he put my shade together and…unfortunately…there was a piece that was broken on it. I managed to fiddle with it and made it work yesterday while I was mowing, but we will return it for one that isn’t broken. It worked really well. The only think is, you have to be really careful when you are going under trees because the low hanging limbs will knock it down.

When I finished mowing, I came around the corner and Mr. FixIt was in the pool cleaning it out so that when I was done, I could take a refreshing dip. What a sweet man! Afterward, we went to the local pizza joint. We ran into my cousins and visited with them while we ate. It was a perfect, sunny summer day. My grandma would have declared we are “knee deep in June.” She would have been absolutely correct!

❤️

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease."”
Genesis 8:22 ESV

Vacations: Past & Present

Fri, 21 Jun 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Vacation Photos: The Making of Memories”

The idea of a vacation was totally foreign to me till I was in my late twenties. My family were not big travelers. We didn’t go to the beach every summer like many of my friends’ families did. We didn’t go camping or hike or play on the river that was a mere five blocks from our house. My Grandma was only west of the Mississippi a couple of times in her life. The first was to see my Uncle Sonny get his wings as an Air Force pilot. The second was when she went to Minnesota to visit my aunt’s resort on Lake Kabetogama. Two vacations in her life.

We didn’t have the money to have extravagant vacations. We visited my aunt and uncle over near the eastern panhandle of West Virginia for a week every summer. That was as close to a vacation that I ever got until I was married to Hubby #2. Our first real vacation was a road trip, car camping around Colorado. After that, we went to West Virginia several times to visit family and one year we went on a twenty mile backpack trip there.

The first extravagant vacation we had was a trip to Cancun with friends the year before I had Daughter #2. We went to Hawaii once, but it was very difficult to get him away from his practice for very long. We did quick trips to DC, Yellowstone, and Disney. After he and I parted company, I traveled alone whenever I could. I took Daughter #2 on a three week road trip when she turned thirteen and took her to Mexico for her sixteenth birthday.

When Mr. Virgo came along, we had great plans to travel when he retired. We did go on a long road trip for our honeymoon. We went to Utah once, and Yellowstone twice. In the summer of 2011, I took him to West Virginia to meet my family. He wanted to take me to Europe to see all the beautiful places he had been. We were buying a camper for retirement when he died.

Heading out on my own again, this time with my own little camper, I found travel to be my solace…my escape…a panacea for the pain of losing my husband. I traveled a lot in those years following his death. And, I was still on the road when my Uncle Bud called me home to live on the family farm. Even living there seemed like a vacation…a dream vacation luxuriating in the memories of my loving family.

Then, Mr. FixIt came along. Thankfully, he was retired and itching to get out and do things. We’ve already accomplished more travel in the short time we’ve been together than I did in the last thirty years. But, is it really “vacation” when you’re retired? Yes and no. No, because every day is Saturday, to some extent. We aren’t bound by the clock and time is somewhat our own. Yes when you consider all the work our properties entail.

I am so grateful for the opportunities to travel and see new places. I know there may come a time in the future when I may not get to do these things, so I’m making up for lost time. I’m banking memories like a squirrel hiding nuts. Someday, I’ll look back on all this…I’ll read the pages of this blog or my book…and have some wonderful stories to tell.

❤️

“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man.”
Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 ESV

Early Bird Special

Mon, 17 Jun 2019 01:30:53 -0600

“Father’s Day in Florida…a little slice of Heaven!”

It wasn’t that many years ago that I looked on as “old people” toddled into restaurants to eat dinner at 4:00 in the afternoon. The “Early Bird Special”. “Bonkers!” I thought. “What on earth are they doing eating at this time of day? Don’t they know how to have FUN anymore?”

HA!

Guess who can’t eat anything other than Raisin Bran after 5:00??? Yeah…what goes around, comes around, don’t it?

So Father’s Day started out great. A lovely breakfast served to my sweet man…father to a great family…love of my heart. Then, we headed to the Ponce deLeon Lighthouse. We’ve been there before. It was earlier in the day…I was in much better shape…and it wasn’t so darned hot the last time. The “feels like” temperature yesterday when we arrived at said lighthouse was 98 degrees.

When you came out of the drastically air conditioned gift shop into the Florida heat and humidity at 1:00 in the afternoon, it seriously felt like walking into a sauna. And, there were signs everywhere that said “No water bottles.” Among other important things to leave behind like pets and flip flops.

Seriously? You want a slightly pudgy West Virginian with heat intolerance to climb up 203 steps…without water…or air, for that matter. Ok, I’ve done it before…I’m sure I can do it again. As I climbed the stairs, I got to the first landing and remembered. THIS was the lighthouse I didn’t like before. It gets narrower and narrower the further up you go till it becomes really tight. AND…they don’t open the windows so there is zero air flow.

The last time I felt like this was in 1989 when I climbed up the interior staircase of the hidden inner pyramid of Chichen Itza. Very narrow, steep stairs, slippery with the dampness, only the occasional incandescent bulb hanging dimly to lead your way. Four of us entered…our good friends, Hubby #2, and me. Only two of us made it up. Me and our friend’s husband. The others backed out with feelings of claustrophobia.

This felt tight and close like that and by the time I got up to that first flight, I couldn’t breathe. It was the heat and being out of and still feeling the effects of illness. There’s nothing wrong with saying, “Nope…not doing this one!” I went down and out and sat in a rocker on the front porch of the lighthouse keeper’s house, waiting for Mr. FixIt to come out on the balcony above.

He snapped a few pictures and chatted with some folks from Roanoke then gave me a jaunty wave. When he came back down, he looked like a drowned rat. It was time to cool off and we headed for the air conditioned museums.

Once we were cooler, we headed to the truck and drove down to New Smyrna Beach. I’ve got to tell you, driving down that narrow little street with the Father’s Day crowds didn’t feel much different than climbing that ever narrowing lighthouse with no air. I couldn’t believe how many people were crowded into such a tiny area.

I’ve been there before so I didn’t really need to get out. But it was Father’s Day…we do for the ones we love. I won out when we finally found ONE parking spot in a lot. You pay by entering your driver’s license number and stick in your credit card. When the fee came up in the window, I nearly fell over. $20.00! You had to pay for a full day. Nope! Not doing that either.

We headed back toward our condo and we both decided we were hungry and wanted seafood. We came by Blackbeard’s Inn and remembered eating there the last time we were in Florida. We pulled in and had such a good meal. Blue crab cake and coconut shrimp with a baked potato. All perfectly delicious.

What time was it, you ask?

4:00

The Early Bird Special!

sigh

❤️

‬‬“Do not reject me now that I am old; do not abandon me now that I am feeble.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭71:9‬ ‭GNT

Happy Birthday!

Thu, 13 Jun 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“Happy Birthday, to ME!”

June is my birthday month.

I love June. I love my birthday. So I just combine them and celebrate the whole month!

After sleeping twelve hours straight on Tuesday night, Mr. FixIt and I went down to the beach and walked then played in the pool for a while. After lunch, I took a three hour nap. Seeing a trend there? It’s all about ME ‘cause it’s my birthday month!

Just as I woke up, Mr. FixIt walked in to make sure I didn’t sleep too long and not be able to sleep later. Then he asked me that question every woman longs to hear.

“How would you like to go eat ice cream for dinner?”

Back off girls…I saw him first!

Yes, ladies…I have married the perfect man. Not only does he celebrate my birthday with me for a month…but he also takes me out for an ice cream dinner. Sexiest man alive.

After a dinner of butter pecan in a chocolate dipped waffle cone, we drove around. We shopped at a couple of Mr. FixIt’s stores. We found Aldi’s and picked up a few groceries. Wonderful strawberries for a dollar.

A simple day…Birthday Eve.

Today is my actual birthday.

Sixty-six. Wow. Why does it sound so much older than sixty-five?

Some of the grandchildren were over Monday evening before we left. I told them how old I was going to be.

“Sixty-six! Can you believe that? It has been half a century since I was sixteen! Half a century!!! You know that’s fifty years, right???”

My wise grandson-in-law said, “Did it go fast?”

How do you answer that? Yes…it flew by in a nanosecond! No, it lasted forever! It’s both.

It’s the coolest thing…to be sixteen plus fifty. I was sixteen in 1969…the summer of love. “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69!” That’s how my best friend signed her letters when she was off at a summer internship. Woodstock. Rock and Roll. Hippies. Bell bottoms. Long hair.

I thought I was free.

I was so wrong.

It took living those fifty years to actually BECOME free. Funny how that works. I’d hate to have gone through all that and not learned the beautiful, hard, gritty, wonderful lessons involved.

Sixty-six. Nope, that doesn’t bother me a bit.

I’m a crone now. I love that!

Happy Birthday to ME!

❤️

““ ‘ “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” ’” Numbers 6:24-26 NIV

One Hour & Thirty-Five Dollars = A Haircut

Thu, 06 Jun 2019 01:30:12 -0600

“Before and After…what a difference a haircut makes!”

I haven’t really felt like my perky self for a while. Nothing I could really put my finger on. Maybe a little tired. Maybe a little down about aging. I’ve been losing weight but avoiding the mirror. It didn’t really dawn on me till I saw pictures from the baptism a couple of weeks ago and I was up on the stage with my bonus granddaughter. Gasp! I looked SO old! I looked like my grandma. Not that that is a bad thing, but I’m talking in her 80’s. I was in desperate need of a haircut!

I always celebrate birthday month…not just a week or a weekend or a day. Nope…I was born in June…I celebrate JUNE! This month I turn 66. It’s only a number. I have more energy than I did at half my age. I remember when I turned 26. I was SO depressed! It had been a WHOLE DECADE since I got my driver’s license. Give me a break! Now it’s been half a century since I got my driver’s license. insert eye roll here

No, it wasn’t my actual calendar age that was getting to me. It was my hair. I got lazy. I got tired of going in every six weeks and getting it cut. I got tired of sometimes having the perfect cut and other times wondering what went wrong. I got tired of spending the money on something that you just have to do over and over and over.

It’s not my fault really. I saw beautiful older women on Pinterest…long flowing locks of silver hair caressing unnaturally perky breasts. Stylishly dressed. Leaning against brick buildings in downtown New York City….their jacket carelessly draped across their shoulders…their chunky boho jewelry and oversized sunglasses deflecting my gaze from anything that could barely be called crepe-y skin. No…Pinterest assured me I would look uber chic with long, silver hair.

Then, I took a look at myself and wondered what on earth possessed me to do such a thing. Me…in my JCPenney sleeveless summer dress made from t-shirt material. Me…of the ample upper arms and comfortable tummy. Me…of the “I know I have makeup SOMEWHERE in this house!” Me…of the Chacos and farmer tan and clip-on sunglasses and floppy brimmed had and a riding mower. Yeah…it was time for a reality check.

I called Michelle on Tuesday and cried uncle. I said, “You win! I’m coming in to cut it off!” I’m almost sure I heard an audible sigh of relief from the other end of the phone. “How’s tomorrow at 11:00?” She didn’t want to wait too long for fear I might change my mind.

An hour. Thirty-five dollars. That’s all it took to bring back my sparkle. It’s really true…if you LOOK good, you FEEL good. I walked out of there feeling like a million bucks! It’s such a simple thing…getting a haircut. Oh, and a pedi. A MUCH needed pedi. I hadn’t had a “Me Day” for such a long time. It was way overdue and I feel so much better.

I sent the before and after photos to Mr. FixIt with a note…”Here’s the girl you fell in love with!” And you wanna know what he said?

“You’re beautiful…but, I didn’t fall in love with your hair.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

❤️

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8 NIV

Finding my Father

Wed, 05 Jun 2019 01:30:35 -0600

“I don’t remember having a loving relationship with my dad…ever.”

Father’s Day is coming soon. I don’t remember ever seeing a photo of my dad holding me. I don’t remember him offering his hand to help me walk. I don’t recall any kissed booboos or falling asleep in his lap. I do remember him bouncing my brother and me on his knees to the tune of Bonanza when it aired on Sunday nights. I remember watching fireworks from the car three blocks away from the park. I remember going fishing with him…once. I wouldn’t touch the worm. He was done.

My relationship with my dad was complicated. Like every little girl, I sought his approval. It never came. I sought his love. He didn’t know how to give it. He never saw me sing on stage. He never watched me perform on the balance beam. As my brother and I aged, Dad became more and more lost in a bottle of Four Roses.

By the time I was an antagonistic teenager, our relationship had devolved into angry shouting matches and stony silence. He became “the man who lived upstairs”. I married and left home with the first boy who would have me and I didn’t look back. By the time I was twenty-one, to my mother’s great relief, they were divorced.

Dad went back to his roots and moved into a trailer on his sister’s farm. As a widow, she was extremely careful of her reputation and when dad had to be driven home from the bar one night, she stormed into his trailer the next morning and struck him on the bottom of the feet with an iron skillet. She informed him there would never be another incident like that or he would find himself out on his ear. He ended up going on the wagon and found Jesus and married a childhood friend.

I never really knew that man…the one all my cousins knew. The one all the town knew. The one who went to church every Sunday and became the model citizen…to everyone outside. But inside? Our relationship stayed exactly the same. His modus operandi was “blame and shame”. I tried. Lord knows I tried to have a relationship with him. But, in order to do that, I needed to talk about what had happened and he wasn’t interested.

If he would have just once said “I’m sorry, Sis.” Oh, I learned to forgive him because he did what he knew, but that apology would have gone a long way toward mending my broken heart. Instead, I married father replacements. First, the stern disciplinarian. Then the busy doctor who couldn’t express his true feelings. Then Mr. Virgo came along and healed that spot in my heart that needed to know I was loved and cherished and….wanted.

Still, I remember my therapist telling me one time, “You know, Ginny…you’re never going to find your father’s love.” I was bereft. It was as if the final page was read and the book snapped shut. The End!

What do I do now?

I went on. I put a bandaid over the spot where I wanted dad-memories in my heart and went on. After all, I was an adult. I was functioning as best I could with what I had to work with. It was ok, I said to myself. I don’t need a father. I don’t need anybody. Mr. Virgo was the only man I really let in and even he didn’t get to see every room.

Then…my dad died.

Then…Mr. Virgo died.

I was never, ever going to feel that unconditional love again.

I was wrong. I found love again…deep, true, lasting love with Mr. FixIt. And, I was a Christian. I had God. He was my Heavenly Father…but, I still wanted a DAD!

This has been on my heart a lot in the last few weeks. And, just like clockwork, here came the Holy Spirit to minister to that sore place within me. Recently, every sermon has been some variation of this theme.

“Your dad wasn’t there for you. It’s ok. You don’t need him. He was here to do what only he could do and it hurt. But here….I’ve got some really great news for you.

“God IS your dad! He loves you…absolutely…unconditionally. He CRAVES when you come sit with him and lay your head on his shoulder. He WANTS you to take his hand and walk with him. He LOVES it when you talk to him and tell him how your day went and share worries of your mind. He DESIRES you to trust him like the dad that he is. He NEEDS you to know he isn’t ever going to leave you….not ever!”

Wow! How awesome is that? Knowing this…I mean really deep down in my bones KNOWING this…has healed some place deep inside my heart. I don’t have to look for my dad anywhere but up. When I want to hear him talking to me, I read the words he left for me to follow. When I don’t please him, he lets me know. The most important thing he wants me to know is I am the joy of his heart. The object of his greatest longing.

Finally….finally I found my father….in my Father.

❤️

“The same way a loving father feels toward his children— that’s but a sample of your tender feelings toward us, your beloved children, who live in awe of you.” Psalms 103:13 TPT

Praying for Others

Tue, 28 May 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“Praying for others is the key to freedom.”

As time passes, my daughter’s wedding is looming in the forefront of my mind. What to wear? Well, I’ve bought three dresses…so far. It depends what suits me that day, I think. The event seems to be fast and loose so I’m not terribly worried about that part.

As I headed into this, the idea of being the mother of the bride…for the last time really…filled me with delicious anticipation mixed with bits of trepidation. Her father and I have mended a lot of fences over the years and I am so proud of the way we can demonstrate good behaviors for our kids and grandkids. Long gone are the angry jabs at each other over a love gone awry.

I overcame the majority of the pain, anger, and resentment through fervent prayer and good therapy. Prayer was my tool. I prayed my family would be healed. I prayed the father of my child would find joy and happiness with the woman he chose. The more I prayed for HIM, the happier I became.

That being said, the enemy loves to sneak in and tell me lies. He loves to remind me I’ve gained a few pounds and my ex-husband will notice. He loves to make me second guess myself and be self conscious of my body and my dress choice. He loves to whisper in my ear and tell me if I would have been a better wife, that great big estate my ex owns could have been mine.

Lies. They are all lies. I could have been the best wife in the history of the universe and the marriage could have still fallen apart. I’m not taking 100% of that one. I’ll comfortably accept my 50%. If I even consider my weight as being something my ex would judge me for, I’m setting myself up for failure and disappointment.

Here’s the thing…if we look for something, we WILL find it. If I look for judgement, I’ll feel judged. If I look for criticism, I’ll feel criticized…even if it’s subconsciously. And, as soon as I feel those things, I’ll react defensively. That whole scenario is a totally no win situation. Nothing good can come from that.

Recently I read about a technique for recognizing the cycle of anxiety and stopping it in its tracks. The premise is, as soon as you feel the very first sensations of anxiety…even if it’s just the thought of feeling anxious…you pull back and become the observer. Recognize what is happening and say to yourself…”Hmmmm, that’s interesting. I’m having a feeling that stemmed from a thought. It is just a thought.” Then, you picture surrounding that thought in a bubble, reach out, and poke it with your finger.

Poof!

When you can recognize what anxiety really is, it’s much easier to step back, give it a poke, and send it on it’s way. It has been working quite well in the last few months. One would think, at the ripe age of 66 (in about three weeks), I’d have gotten a handle on anxiety long before now. Sometimes it’s the fear of having an anxiety attack that brings it on. It’s crazy…but it’s quite real.

This wedding isn’t about me. His house isn’t about me. My weight isn’t even completely about me in that it was caused by taking steroids twice this year. I’m the only me I have. I am the only mom my kids have. The only Nana for my grands. I am my husband’s queen. He will think I am scrumptious no matter what I’m wearing or where I sit.

This is such a relief…to let go of fear. The fear of rejection. The fear of not being good enough. The fear of doing or saying something wrong.

I am enough. I have always been enough.

Dang…I love my sixties!

❤️

“But the moment one turns to the Lord with an open heart, the veil is lifted and they see. Now, the “Lord” I’m referring to is the Holy Spirit, and wherever he is Lord, there is freedom.”
2 Corinthians 3:16-17 TPT

Rainy Days

Sun, 05 May 2019 01:30:13 -0600

“Grandma’s rhododendron is starting to bloom out at the farm. I think it might have gotten a little nipped by the polar vortex this winter, but it sure loves these rainy days!”

It has been rainy in West Virginia the last couple of days. We’ve even had some thunderstorms, which I dearly love. I remember really missing them when I lived in Colorado. The thunder doesn’t roll there like it does here. The rain held off till Mr. FixIt and I were finished changing the oil in both trucks. I sat on the mechanic’s stool, looking up at the sky when it started to sprinkle and asked God to please hold off for an hour or so. He was so gracious to do so. Thank you.

I was very disappointed. We had everything set up. I got the truck up on the ramps with Mr. FixIt’s guidance, and I got down under the engine and set to work. Try as I might, I simply could NOT loosen the plug in the oil pan. I couldn’t get in a good position to get leverage. The battery pack for the headlamp sat on the back of my head wrong and kept getting in my way. And for some reason, I didn’t like the feeling of that truck over my chest on the plastic ramps Mr. FixIt has. His metal ones were stolen and I just didn’t trust plastic to hold that truck up off me. It gave me the heeby-jeebies.

Mr. FixIt took my place and, with some difficulty, finally got the plug out. I got BACK under the truck and tried to loosen the oil filter and it wouldn’t budge. I hated to admit defeat, but i just don’t have the arm, wrist, and hand strength I used to have. I climbed back out and sat on the stool handing Mr. FixIt what he needed, when he needed it. When he was finished, I held the funnel while he poured the oil in.

“I’m sorry.” I said, dejectedly. “I just couldn’t do it.”

Mr. FixIt looked at me with soft eyes and said, “That’s ok, baby. That’s what husbands are for.”

For one second, the feminist reared up in my head…then I stopped. I looked at this kind, gentle, yet strong man and said…

“Service. That’s your love language, isn’t it?”

He smiled and went back to the task at hand. I didn’t even offer to try helping him when we got his truck up on the ramps. We just chatted as he told me stories or pointed out the differences between the two trucks and their filters. I sat on the stool, smiling and sending up a big “Thank You” for my many, many blessings.

❤️?❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17 NIV

Uncle!

Wed, 01 May 2019 01:30:16 -0600

“When you’re tired and overwhelmed, it’s ok to say Uncle!”

Every day since we got home from the beach has been packed full. Long hours of mowing thick, wet grass. Unpacking. Cleaning. Finally, we had to split the chores yesterday and Mr. FixIt went to the farm to mow while I worked on de-winterizing the camper. First, I filled the freshwater tank and added a little bleach to sanitize it. Then I went in and turned on the pump. It’s supposed to run a little bit, build up pressure, then shut itself off. It didn’t. As I stood in front of the kitchen sink, listening as a pitiful stream of water came from the faucet, I could hear water splashing outside.

I went out and around the camper and there was water coming out of the water heater compartment. I opened it up and saw the plug was an old type and it was rusted through. Not a good sign. I was told the camper had been fully inspected two years ago and everything worked fine. And, while I should have taken the camper to someone to have it inspected again, I trusted mine and Mr. FixIt’s camper knowledge. Besides, it was very difficult to really get in and have a look at the inner workings in the driveway where it was parked. I don’t think the previous owner was trying to scam me. I just don’t think she used the service systems because she only took it out three or four times to sleep over at horse shows.

I knew there was nothing I could do without getting a new plug. I towed the camper to an RV service center and the guy was kind enough to stop what he was doing and put a plug in. Then he proceeded to have a look around the camper and started telling me all the things that were wrong with it and made me feel generally inept and stupid. One thing he pointed out, which I hadn’t noticed was…the tires were seven years old. Even if the tread looks good and there’s no evidence of dry rot, you really shouldn’t run a trailer on tires over five years old.

My next stop was a local tire shop owned by a woman. I’ve talked with her before and I’m so impressed that she built this business from scratch. I got four trailer tires for $65 each, mounted and balanced. Then I drove to a rest area with a dump station to empty and clean the waste tanks. A camper has two waste tanks on it…”grey water” from the sinks and shower and “black water” from the toilet. That wasn’t much of a chore as they had been emptied previously. They just needed a good flushing.

Once I was finished with the tanks, I tried turning the pump on and it still wouldn’t build up pressure and shut off. That means the system isn’t sealed and there’s a leak somewhere. I didn’t see water anywhere and there was nothing dripping. By this point, I was tired, hungry, and pretty darned frustrated. I kept telling myself I’d bought a piece of junk camper and I was pretty low by the time I got home.

Mr. FixIt called. I poured out all my fears and frustrations and he asked me to tell him one thing at a time. He said they were all fairly small things and relatively easy to fix. At the most, I may need a new hot water heater, a water pump, and new propane regulator. He said I didn’t buy a piece of junk, but it is twelve years old. There are bound to be some things that will need fixing.

I got home and walked in the door. There is still a toilet, a sink, and half a shower stall in my living room. I suddenly felt defeated and sat down to think it through. When I made arrangements to attend my niece’s graduation in Indiana, I didn’t realized how tight I had planned these three trips. Four days between the first and second trip and only one day between the second and third. It took us three full days just to mow both properties. How was I possibly going to pull this off?

I prayed about it for a while and talked with Mr. FixIt again and two of my trusted friends and they all said…set some priorities…get some rest…it’s ok to say no. I hated the idea of cancelling the Indiana trip. I hate missing my niece’s graduation and getting to see her family. And, I hate disappointing anyone. But, you know what? I’m not thirty-five anymore. I’m not fifty-five anymore. I’m nearly sixty-six and while, in many ways that is still young, I have to admit to myself I can’t do it all. I get tired easier. I get overwhelmed easier. I’ve noticed this since losing Mr. Virgo.

So, I wrote a long note and sent it to my niece and her mom. I explained why we couldn’t come and while they will miss us, they understand. I immediately felt a weight lift off my shoulders and I cried with relief. It’s ok to cry “Uncle!” I turned on the air conditioning, crawled under a blanket, and rested…for the first time in weeks, it seems.

❤️

““Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”” Matthew 11:28-30 NIV

The Weight of the World

Mon, 29 Apr 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“Sometimes things seem too heavy. That’s when I need to stop and read my devotionals.”

Don’t you sometimes feel like you’re carrying a whole lot of weight on your shoulders? One should come home from vacation feeling refreshed and relaxed. While we had a fabulous vacation and I enjoyed every single minute of it, I always come home with a mountain of work to do and if I’m not careful, I’ll forget the joy of the vacation altogether.

When we got home Saturday night, it was raining but we emptied the truck as best we could. This left containers laying around to be emptied. Before we could put anything away, we had to clean the kitchen counters from spraying for ants last week. Then all the stuff that had been moved to the island to get moved back to the counter. THEN the kitchen stuff could be put away. This after driving twelve hours…the majority of which was done by my sweet husband.

We were up early and out the door for church with the grandkids then our usual breakfast. We had errands to run before we finally got back home. Mr. FixIt had the rest of the truck to empty while I cleaned the kitchen and put away more stuff. Then he got out the push mower and weed eater and I hopped on the riding mower. Three hours later, we gave up because it was cold and we were hungry.

We have really felt our age this last year, it seems. Aches and pains that never slowed us down are starting to get in the way. We can’t work sunup to sundown like we once did and that is frustrating. Made more so by the post-vacation blues. The next couple of weeks are going to be super busy. We need to finish the mowing at the Ponderosa then we have to go mow at the farm, I have an MRI on my foot today to see what the problem is that’s causing pain, then I have to de-winterize and prepare the new camper for her maiden voyage.

We leave Thursday for Indiana to see my niece graduate from college. We get back on Sunday, I’ll have one day to clean up the camper, restock, and do laundry before I turn around and take her up north for a week with the Girl Campers. Then I’ll have some down time. Knitting and napping and sitting around the campfire will be the order of the day. Until then, every day is jam-packed with busy. It is during times like this I have to actually set an an alarm and force myself to sit down and do my bible study. Those are the moments that carry me through the rest of it.

❤️

“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.”
Mark 1:35 NIV

Goodbye...For Now

Sat, 27 Apr 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“Best Friends”

Goodbyes are so hard…especially since losing Mr. Virgo. My world perspective has forever changed and grief has colored every thought since that fateful day. I am so aware of how tenuous life is and how strong the bonds between us and those we hold most dear.

Today we have to say so long to our dearest family/friends as they head back home to Colorado and we head back home to the Ponderosa. We have had such a delightful week. The weather seriously couldn’t have been more perfect. Our first morning here dawned sunny and gorgeous and remained the same the entire week until a band of severe thunder storms came through last evening. It rained hard into the night and brought cooler temperatures but today is supposed to be sunny with a high around 70 so it will be perfect traveling weather.

While grief and death are not in the forefront of my thoughts anymore, there are certain things that have changed because of my loss. Now, when I see a scene, I see it through the eyes of a widow and know the scenes I wish I had pictures of. As we watched the sunset in a quiet cove along the sound in the Cape Hatteras National Seashore the other night, I looked back. I noticed Ben & Sue turn to take in the last of the golden light as the sun dipped below the horizon over the glassy surface of the water. I smiled as Sue reached for Ben’s hand and I reached for my cell phone to snap this picture. I added the location and date and sent it to her.

We do not know when our time will come, but we do know statistically that women outlive their husbands. When Mr. Virgo died, I really had fewer photos of him than I thought. I wanted to make sure Ben & Sue had all the special events of the week recorded for posterity.

As we drove down to the beach last weekend, I kept thinking…”It’ll be over in an instant and we’ll be driving back home.” And, here we are. But…oh, my. We made some beautiful memories together this week and I will cherish this time together for the rest of my life.

❤️

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” Psalm 133:1 NIV

A Good Tired

Wed, 17 Apr 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“Spring flowers make my heart sing!”

Now that the taxes are done, submitted, and accepted, our attention can turn to other things….mainly, mowing. With the rains we received over the weekend, the grass growth was remarkable and it couldn’t be put off another day. We had a neighbor brush hog the far field last fall when we were preparing for the wedding. That field is really rough and needs to be mowed really regularly or we’ll have to resort to the brush hog again. I got about half the field mowed at the Ponderosa then we had to head for the farm. Mr. FixIt mowed while I hauled dropped limbs and did laundry. It was 7:30 by the time we were done and ready to head back home.

This is the kind of tired that feels good. When you do a good solid day’s work and you have something to show for it. When your muscles are sore and you’re hungry and you know you’re going to sleep soundly…that’s a good day’s work. We still have much to do to prepare for our trip but once we are there…it’s beach time, baby. I can’t wait to see Ben & Sue…my son-in-law’s parents. They are joining us for the week and it’s going to be SO much fun. They are the dearest people and we can’t wait to show them all around the Outer Banks!

I do have a favor of you. I have an appointment with the orthopedist today for this pain I have in my foot. I think it’s a Morton’s Neuroma and if so, I will likely need a shot in the ball of my foot, which…as you can well imagine…I am not looking forward to. I am preparing myself with lots of prayers and meditation. Please add me to your prayer list that everything goes smoothly, the pain is little to nonexistent, and that whatever they do, it takes care of the pain and I can get back to exercising regularly! Thank you in advance!!!

I’ll let you know how it went!

❤️

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.””
Jeremiah 29:11-14 NIV

Memory Recall

Thu, 11 Apr 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Photos of childhood memories can bridge the miles between you and your children.”

Sometimes it’s hard to reach my kids, both literally and figuratively. They have busy lives. Jobs, families, houses…they don’t have a lot of time to visit with their mom. I get that. I was in their shoes. So, instead of whining about it and pulling more than a nominal guilt trip, I have taken to sending them pictures of things I find on Pinterest. Not just any old thing. Things that will stir a memory of their childhoods and make them smile whether they have time to talk or not.

One such photo was this one. It is identical to the kitchen we lived in when she was little and her daddy was in medical school. She remembered the sink, she said. But I know, if she remembered the sink, she thought of all the times I canned our food and baked our bread. She might have thought of the times we set up the tent in the backyard so she could have a sleepover. I’m sure she thought of the slumber party I let her have in the Vanagon camper with the pop top. We were still finding peanut M&M’s months later. Maybe she thought of the Christmas Eve Blizzard when we spent the day pushing people out of the ditch in front of the house. Or the time she rode her bike on the church parking lot down the street and almost put her eye out on a tree branch.

I miss being close to my kids. Maybe by this time, if I hadn’t have found Mr. FixIt, I might have been back there…or at least spend more time in Colorado. But, just as my girls have lives…so do I. I just have to make the most of the time I do have with them when I am there.

I spent yesterday at the farm again. I made great progress on the paperwork I’m doing. Tomorrow I can wrap it up and we can do our taxes and be done with it. I promise myself every year that I wont procrastinate next year…and here we are. Down to the wire yet again. Maybe next year!

❤️

“But everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way.” 1 Corinthians 14:40 NIV

Getting Healthy

Sat, 30 Mar 2019 01:30:01 -0600

“It’s time to get healthy with AdvoCare’s 24 Day Challenge!”

I went to the doctor last week for bronchitis and had to do that thing I’ve dreaded the most…I had to step on a scale! I haven’t weighed myself in ages…mostly because I just find it so demoralizing. I am past the caring what others think of me thing. However, I do still care what I think of myself. I don’t feel healthy when I weigh this much. My feet hurt. My bladder leaks. My acid reflux is abysmal. The whole thing makes me pretty darned cranky.

Unfortunately, I’ve had to take steroids twice in the last six months and that wreaks havoc on my weight. However, I can’t just blame this weight gain on medications. Writing this book kept me sequestered in my camper for the last two months. And when I write, I nibble and nosh without thinking much about it. Winter brings the blahs and comfort food gets me in trouble in a hurry.

It’s time to do something about it. I did check into a weight loss program that a friend of mine is one. She has had a dramatic weight loss and looks wonderful, but her program is $400 a month and that is unreasonable for someone on a fixed income. I have decided to do what worked for me last time and just ordered the Advocare 24 Day Challenge. It’s time. It’s not too terribly expensive and if you work it, it really gives me that jump start I need to get me going. If any of you are interested in doing it with me, you can send me a private message and I can send you the link to purchase what you need. If you followed along with me three years ago, you saw what a difference it made.

It’s a new season. I need to stay active and physically fit so I can maintain my fun girl camper lifestyle! I’m going to be 66 this summer…it’s time to really take serious control of my health!

❤️

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”
1 Corinthians 9:24-27 NIV

From Wounded to Awakened

Wed, 20 Mar 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Awakened Women know from whence they came. Overcoming brokenness takes a great deal of hard work and patience.”

It would probably be safe to say most of us have been wounded in one way or another in our lives. You don’t get to 65 without some bumps and bruises. I spent so much of my adult life as one of the walking wounded. Growing up with an alcoholic father, being subjected to sexual abuse, experiencing brutality at the hands of a teacher, and getting the pee scared out of me by a traveling preacher were the foundation of fear that wounded my little girl psyche. That led me down a path of self destruction that nearly ended my life.

Kathy, my small group leader, posted this meme in our group chat yesterday. When you are the wounded woman who has become awakened, you don’t always understand the significance of the steps involved to heal. It’s easier when you watch others achieve their own healing. That’s when you understand just how far you’ve come. In other words, sometimes you really don’t get something till you see it in black and white.

I was sitting with Mr. FixIt at breakfast yesterday when I saw this meme. I had just been talking to him the other night about how different I feel with him than with any other person I’ve been with. I am totally at home. Comfortable in my own skin.

“You see the list on the left?” I said. “That was me before Mr. Virgo. Actually, I was still a little bit like that while I was married to him. But now? Now I’m firmly planted in the list on the right. You didn’t do that. I didn’t do that. GOD did that. Ok…I had to choose God first. Then I had to ask him to fix me. But HE’S the one that did the fixing. He’s the one who sent the right therapists, the right doctor. He’s the one who gave me the courage to find my voice.”

He “gets” me. He’s the one who gets to reap the rewards of my awakening. I remember back when I was separated from Hubby #2. I knew he had this good, kind, gently, emotive man inside him. He knew I had the potential to embrace everything in the list on the right. We just couldn’t bring those things out in each other. We needed to go through what we went through to become who we are.

Our daughter is getting married in August. Mr. FixIt and I will be attending the wedding being held at my ex’s somewhat palatial estate. I’ve never been there but I’ve seen pictures. The “me” that used to live in the left hand list would walk into that house feeling less than…unworthy…apologetic…falling all over myself to make a good impression, to look a certain way, to act a certain way in order to gain approval. The woman I have become is awakened. I know my value. It doesn’t come from anything…or anyone…earthly. I needn’t apologize for anything. I speak gently to myself.

I have to admit…the first time I saw a picture of my ex’s house, I burned with envy. For just a moment. The thought was, ‘That should have been MY house!’ Which was immediately followed by, ‘Yes, dear one…but HE comes with that house.’ There’s definitely a reason we aren’t together. We are both much better off apart.

This has been a long….LONG time coming. And, I’m finally…finally…finally there. ❤️

“for the light makes everything visible. This is why it is said, “Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light.””
Ephesians 5:14 NLT

A Visit From Aunt Flo

Tue, 19 Mar 2019 01:30:00 -0600

“Ahhhh, the vagaries of youth…some I miss, most I don’t!”

So, here’s a topic we’ve never delved into…that dreaded part of being a woman during her reproductive years. Yes…that monthly visit from Aunt Flo. I can tell you this, when I had a total hysterectomy in 1994, I was tickled as all get out to get rid of that monster. Unfortunately, it was immediately replaced with a rampant case of “InstaPause”…full on menopause symptoms felt all at once when I came out of anesthesia. None of that slip-sliding into the quasi psychotic stages of hot flashes, weight gain, depression, anxiety, and hair growing out of places where hair should NEVER grow on a woman. Noooooo….I dove head first into that lovely mess. The only good part about the whole thing was saying goodbye to Aunt Flo for good!

One of my readers passed this on to me yesterday and I had to share it with you. OMGosh! I laughed till I cried, so of course, I have to share it with you. I SO know you can relate!

“This is an “actual letter” from an Austin, Texas woman sent to Proctor and Gamble regarding one of their feminine products. She really gets rolling after the first paragraph. This was PC Magazine’s 2009 Editors’ Choice award-winner for the best letter sent via e-mail.

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your ‘Always’ maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts.

But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call ‘an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.’

Isn’t the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customer’s monthly visits from ‘Aunt Flo’. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women.

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words:

‘Have a Happy Period.’

Are you f—— kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable?

Well, did it, James?

FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be anything ‘happy’ about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreen’s armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like ‘Put down the Hammer’ or ‘Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong’.

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullsh!t. And that’s a promise I will keep.

Always. . …

Wendi Aarons - Austin , TX”

If you are still getting visits from your Aunt Flo, my sympathies to you. Lord, I surely don’t miss those days! ❤️

“A wise woman builds her home, but a foolish woman tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1 NLT

Are We Raising Strong Kids?

Thu, 31 Jan 2019 02:30:47 -0600

“School closings for cold weather…are we raising weak kids by saying it’s too cold outside?”

I can’t decide. Were adults negligent when we were kids and they made us stand in sub-zero weather to wait for the bus…in skirts, no less? Or are they teaching kids to give up when things get hard when they call school off for two days because of cold weather? Seriously, I don’t recall ever hearing of someone dying of hypothermia waiting for the school bus in 1969. Did I like it? Heck no! Did it kill me? Not by a long shot.

We weren’t allowed to wear pants to school back then and, by golly, my mom abided by the rules. I couldn’t wear pants under my skirt even if I swore on a stack of Bibles that I would take them off as soon as I got to school. Rules were rules and that was that. I only had to walk three blocks but sometimes the wait was 20 minutes or more if the roads were bad. It was pretty brutal, but I survived.

We didn’t have money for snow boots. I wore my penny loafers and knee socks. My feet were ice cubes by the time I got to school. The skin on my kneecaps was hard and white. There wasn’t such a thing as puffy ski coats, either. I had a hand-me-down wool coat and a toboggan. Still, I never had frostbite. I was rarely sick.

There was a government official that got some backlash yesterday for suggesting we are teaching kids that we quit when things get hard. More than likely, when these kids grow up, their boss will expect them to show up when it’s cold instead of staying home in their jammies and playing video games all day. I’m inclined to think we’ve become a little too soft in this day and age.

Granted…I stay in and knit and drink tea on blustery, cold days. But, I payed my dues. We did go out to the farm yesterday. We needed to check the well pump in the cellar house to make sure it wasn’t in danger of freezing. All the water lines were clear, the heat was on, the gas stove in the bathroom was working perfectly, the cabinet doors were open, and so was the basement door. That allows extra heat from the basement up into the kitchen, helping to keep that side of the house warm. The cellar temperature was actually well above freezing. It is built back into the hillside and is covered by earth on three sides. Just to make doubly sure though, we turned on the trouble light that hangs near the pipes to give a little extra warmth. It was 2 degrees when we got home.

Ha! I’ve turned into my mother…my grandmother…my great-grandmother. I can just hear my grandma saying, “Why, when I was your age, we had to get up and milk the cows and gather the eggs and feed the hogs before we could head off to school. We had to cut the wood for the cook stove, too! We didn’t have any modern conveniences, and we did just fine. This younger generation doesn’t know how good they have it!” I don’t know…I suppose a windchill factor of -15 is as good a reason as any to call off school. It’s wicked cold out there. Be safe if you have to be out…and kids, use this time to learn something. Look up “global warming”, “climate change”, “how to prevent frostbite” and write a little essay. ❤️

Edit: I’m going to step up here and say many of you have made very valid points. This is a very dangerous polar vortex and in thinking back, we certainly did not experience wind chills of -50+ when I was a kid. The weather has changed. The economy has changed. I hadn’t thought of all the factors you, as current and former teachers, have expressed. Polar vortex windchills and trophies for all aren’t the same things. Thank you for enlightening me. That’s why I love this blog. You cheer me on…and you teach me when a I need it.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.””
Joshua 1:9 NIV

Johnny & Jaxx...A Story of Devotion

Thu, 10 Jan 2019 02:30:03 -0600

“Rosie (L), Jaxx (C), and Johnny Boy (R) celebrate Johnny’s 4th Gotcha Day!”

We talk a lot here about death and dying, loss and grief. We talk about losing our parents…aunts…uncles…cousins, our siblings, our children, our friends, and our spouses. We don’t talk a whole lot here about when we lose our beloved fur-babies…those wonderful fur-covered angels that grace us with their presence for a few short years, only to be yanked away far, far too soon.

Losing our beloved pets affects most of us the same way as losing a human member of the family. Our hearts break. We grieve. We are lost. We get the same brain fog. The same yearning. If you are an animal lover and have ever been fortunate enough to share your life with a companion animal, then you know what I am saying is true.

“Johnny Boy arrived so sick with Parvovirus we didn’t think he would live.”

My first dog as an adult was an Aussie/Blue Heeler mix named Boofer. She was brilliant. The only dog I truly did not have to train. I just talked to her and she knew exactly what I wanted from her. And she would do her level best to please me. She had to be put down at the young age of seven after a diagnosis of a pituitary tumor. We managed her symptoms with medication as long as we could but when she went blind, it was time to set her free.

Animal owners know their time with their fur-babies is limited. Boofer was gone too soon. Old Mama Kitty was at least 23-24 years old. Sidney was 14…a big, goofy black lab who owned my heart during a really dark period of my life. Mr. Virgo showed up with a 10-year-old Yorkie/Maltese mix named Cricket who lived to be seventeen. She died just three months before Mr. Virgo did. That was my last dog. I just didn’t have it in me to do it again and my lifestyle isn’t conducive to pet ownership.

“Johnny Boy is absolutely CRAZY over kittens! He has to have one…always!”

My friend Aimee is the Grande Dame of animal rescues. If it moves and squeaks, oinks, meows, moos, neighs, or barks…Aimee has to bring it home. Her husband rolls his eyes when another goat or chicken or rabbit or puppy makes an appearance at their West Virginia homestead. It’s all a show…he adores Aimee and if she needs to rescue another dog, she rescues another dog. As she says…she married well.

Four years ago, Aimee fostered little Johnny Boy…a mastiff-boxer mix who was dreadfully thin. They soon found he was also dreadfully sick. Johnny nearly died….several times…of parvovirus and parasites and any number of problems. They went to every length to save this little guy’s life. When he got through the initial illness, Johnny Boy started having trouble walking. His joints became swollen and painful. They finally discovered he had a very rare disease of the epiphyseal joints in his legs. After a trip to the State Veterinary School in Columbus, a treatment was finally found and Johnny boy began to thrive and grow.

Then, just before the holidays, Aimee found hundreds of little bumps under Johnny’s skin. Again, Johnny Boy does nothing halfway and it took quite some doing to get a diagnosis. When they did, it was not good. It was a rare cancer and there is nothing they can do for him. So, Aimee decided Johnny Boy’s end of life would include the very best days ever.

“Johnny & Jaxx…BFF’s Forever!”

A few months ago, Johnny’s BFF…Jaxx…moved to Florida with his human person. And Johnny was devastated. When they found out Johnny Boy doesn’t have a long time to live, Jaxx’s owner drove him from Florida and left him in Aimee’s care for as long as Johnny needs him. Johnny and Jaxx are insanely bonded. I mean…they FaceTime each other. Seriously!

The other night, Aimee threw Johnny Boy a four year “Gotcha Party” to celebrate and Johnny, Jaxx, and Rosie donned their party hats and sat in the little chairs around the table. They ate scrambled eggs for supper and had Pupcake for dessert. I loved watching the video!

Aimee posted a video yesterday that shows Johnny having a little trouble breathing. His type of tumor releases histamines and they make his nasal passages swell which in turn makes it difficult to breathe. She knows this is the beginning of the end. And, trust me, she will never let Johnny Boy suffer. When it is his time, she will let him go peacefully. In the meantime, she suffers the anticipatory grief knowing Johnny’s time on earth is short. Yet, she shares him with us…and with Jaxx. I SO love this crazy mutt who came in and stole all our hearts and showed us what loving a rescue is all about. He truly is made of love and sunshine. ❤️

“The righteous care for the needs of their animals, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.”
Proverbs 12:10 NIV

My “Other Mother”

Sun, 09 Dec 2018 02:30:08 -0600

“My beautiful “Other Mother”, Louisa.”

Most of the time, when you talk about your “Other Mother”, it’s the mom of your best friend from high school. My mom was my sister/friend’s “Other Mother”. They were tight, especially after I married and moved to England. They would go to the beach together and have a grand time. I was thrilled they enjoyed that relationship since I didn’t live near my mom.

God brought me my “Other Mother” when I needed her the most. Louisa and her husband, John, walked into my needlework shop in 2003, the year before my own mother passed away. He knew I was going to need a good woman friend to mother me through that loss. Louisa and John had moved to the Western Slope of Colorado after he retired a few years before. She wanted to learn to do something with her hands. She had a needlepoint kit hanging around and wanted me to teach her. Her vision was slowly deteriorating from Macular Degeneration so she needed something that didn’t involve terribly fine work.

I scheduled an hour to sit with Louisa. That day, as we were gathering our work together, I asked her what her husband had done for a living. She said he was an Internal Medicine physician. Hmmmm. That’s what Hubby #2 did. We had been separated for three years by this point.

“How was that for YOU?” I asked.

The ensuing conversation put all thoughts of needlepoint out of our minds and we proceeded to share our stories. Our paths were remarkably similar. We both had suffered from a clinical depression. Her marriage survived that. Mine did not. We bonded that day and became incredibly close.

When Mr. Virgo and I decided to get married, I asked Louisa and John to stand in as my “parents” at the wedding. They were so thrilled to do so. I’ll never forget when Louisa toasted us and shared how honored she and John were to be included in such a way.

When I moved home to West Virginia, Louisa and I remained close and spoke often on the phone. Every time I went to Colorado for a visit, we spend some quality time together…sometimes I even stayed at their house. We visited last summer when I was home and I noticed right away there had been a rapid deterioration in both John and Louisa. John’s mind was rapidly slipping away to dementia. Louisa’s COPD was taking it’s toll. She was always impeccably dressed when you went to visit. This time, she was seated in her ladie’s wing-backed chair in her dressing gown, her lovely hair slight disheveled in wisps around her face.

She was still her sharp-witted self, but I could see she was weary. We didn’t visit for too long. Her son had been staying with them for a bit to help out. We parted with promised to talk often.

The summer was eaten up with medical visits and soon it was fall before we spoke again. She was trying to be a good soldier, but I could tell how weary she was. We spoke in October when I shared Mr. FixIt and I were soon getting married. She was thrilled. She met him the summer before and loved him. However, she was a proper, old-school, Southern Belle from Owensboro, Kentucky and she did not like us living together without being married.

I was going to call her last week but one thing and another came up. Finally, this past Monday, I got this urgent “nudge” to call her so I listened.

The first thing she said was, “So, are you married yet????” She was in hospice care now.

“Yes, ma’am. We got married on the 13th of October.”

“Ok, good. You know I didn’t like that!” She gently scolded.

“Yes, my dear…I know.”

She told me her granddaughter was being married next month and she just wanted to live till that happened. Our sweet Miss Louisa went home to God late that evening. I was so glad I had listened to that still small voice that said, “Call Louisa.”

I didn’t find out till a mutual friend texted me yesterday. I was crushed, as you are in the first few moments after hearing of such a loss. After I had a good cry, I thought of my Miss Louisa sitting down to “tea”…her vernacular for a good stiff cocktail. Maybe she’s sitting with Mr. Virgo and my mom…enjoying a lovely visit…talking about me and shaking their heads at stories of my misadventures. Whatever she is doing, I know I will sit with her again some sunny day. But, my oh my…this has been a difficult couple of months. I want my loved ones to stop dying now, thank you very much. Cumulative grief is a very real phenomenon. You can read more about it through the link below. ?

https://whatsyourgrief.com/cumulative-grief-aka-grief-overload/

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.”
2 Corinthians 5:8 NIV

A Long Goodbye

Sun, 02 Dec 2018 02:30:27 -0600

“My sweet cousin, Tom.”

I was seven years old when I fell in love with Tommy Allen. The fact that he was my first cousin meant nothing to me. The fact that he was home from the Navy wearing his sailor whites meant EVERYTHING. swoon He was dreamy.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was playing on the floor with my brother. We had a bunch of little plastic barnyard animals and some Lincoln Logs, creating the wilderness cabin of Daniel Boone. It was a sweltering hot summer day and I wore a violet colored cotton dress. They say it matched my eyes. My bare arms were brown from the sun. My bare feet were brown from the WV dirt.

My cousin, Donna Jean, was in high school. She was playing Elvis Presley records on the stereo…his mellow voice coming through scratchy and thin. A car door slammed out front and my Aunt Marge came running from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

“He’s here!” The screen door didn’t even swing shut before she was out on the porch wrapping her boy in her mom-hug. I ran to the door and peeked out to see what the ruckus was all about. And…there he was. His pompadour slicked back. His Navy whites, crisp and clean, glaring in the July sun. His marine blue eyes sparkled when he saw me and grinned. He gave me a knowing wink, and I was smitten.

“Captain Tom”

We didn’t get to see each other much. He married and moved to Paden City, then New Martinsville. He raised his family. He worked hard in one of the chemical plants that dot the Ohio River banks from Pittsburg to Louisville. Then, in 1976, my parents divorced. By this time I was married myself with a little one of my own and lived in Colorado. I am embarrassed to say, I didn’t have much to do with my father’s family after that. There were a lot of reasons why…none of them good.

My father died in 2008. For some reason, I didn’t think there would be but a handful of people at his funeral. If he was the same man to others as he had been to me and my family, this would be a pretty quick, cut and dried affair. Imagine my surprise when the church was full to overflowing at my father’s memorial service! I listened to people tell me what a wonderful man he was. How he was a central figure in their church. A pillar of the community. “He would give you the shirt off his back.” I heard over and over. It wasn’t the man I knew, but I realized…he was the man THEY knew. And this funeral was for them.

Almost all of my cousins from my dad’s side were there. I greeted them politely before the service. When we all went to the basement after, I sat in awe and listened to the stories they told me about my dad. I told them about the man I knew. We were both dumbfounded. But, the really GREAT part is…even though I had walked away from them all in 1975, they greeted me with open arms in 2008 like I’d been there all along. I fell in love with them all…all over again.

About four-and-a-half years or so ago, my handsome cousin Tommy was diagnosed with mesothelioma. It is a cancer of the covering of the lung but can appear anywhere. And it comes from exposure to asbestos. He was exposed in the Navy shipyards and the plant in which he worked. The average life expectancy for mesothelioma patients is 12-21 months. Approximately 40% of patients live past one year, and only 9% live longer than five years. He was determined to do everything he could so he went to NIH and participated in clinical trials.

It bought him some good time. He fished and hunted and was his normal, happy, feisty self. Then one of the trial drugs nearly killed him. That’s when he decided…he’d had enough. His wife, Suzy, contacted me and said it was time to come for a visit. No one said it out loud, but I knew this was my last visit with this sweet man. By this time, he didn’t have the energy to go exploring or out to eat. So, we just sat at home. We talked. We laughed. I recorded him telling me stories. It was bittersweet. The ride to the beach was long and quiet.

I met fifteen gals from my high school for coffee yesterday morning. I was going to the funeral home afterwards. Lisa, the friend who married Mr. FixIt and me, lost her mom Thanksgiving Day and the viewing was yesterday. I picked up my phone to see what time it was because I didn’t want to be late. That’s when I saw the text from Suzy. Our Tom passed at 1:35 yesterday morning.

“Tommy and Me”

I tried not to cry, but the tears slipped too easily down my cheeks. My friends were wonderful and hugged me. I showed them his picture. I told them I fell in love with this handsome sailor when I was just a little girl. And now, he has crossed over the last trout stream and is off on a great bear hunt in the sky. I will miss you, Tommy…you were a heck of a good man.

Today would have been their 57th Wedding Anniversary. Suzy has never lived alone. But, she has lots of love and support. She will get through this in her own way…in her own time. Those of us who have walked this particular path have an understanding of what she is going through today. Please keep Suzy and all who loved Tom in your prayers. ?

““Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.””
John 14:1-4 NIV

Living in a Small Town in the Hills

Tue, 06 Nov 2018 02:30:49 -0600

“The colors are a bit past their prime, but still lovely.”

I am from West Virginia originally. I was raised about 30 miles from where I’m standing at this moment. My grandparents’ farm is 22 miles away. Both much shorter “as the crow flies”. I left here when I was nineteen years old and lived first in England for two years then Colorado for forty. It wasn’t until Mr. Virgo died that I headed back to my roots in these beautiful hills.

My first year was spent out at the farm on seventy-four acres. You talk about quiet and peaceful. Other than the oil and gas traffic on the road, it’s dead out there. The little store closed this summer. The only thing open now is the tiny post office.

“Fall decor lines the driveway.”

I remember when I was married to Hubby #2, the doctor. I lived a different life then than anything my family could even approach experiencing in terms of finances and the ability to experience travel. I was talking with one of my high school sister/friends one night and apparently I was acting in a way which warranted a dressing down. She reminded me, in no uncertain terms, where I started out in life and not to be so snooty. She was absolutely right. I had gotten a tad big for my britches.

Widowhood changed me in many ways…not the least of which was living a small, quiet life in a camper with only 5% of my belongings dragged with me. Moving to the farm was a continuation of the much simpler, more humble, and highly satisfying life I have come to know since my return to my roots. And now, I’ve married into this sweet little town I’ve come to love.

I went to the Post Office yesterday to pick up the mail held for us. As I stood in line, the two women at the front wrapped up a conversation as the clerk called her name.

“I hope we run into each other again real soon!”

“”Well, lets just plan on lunch so we don’t have to leave it to chance!”

“That’s great!”

Hugs.

“You tell your mama hey for me, will ya’?”

“Sure will!”

My heart smiled. I picked up my mail and headed to the local mom and pop grocery store. I was standing at the meat counter waiting for the gal to weigh out my two pounds of fresh ground hamburger and slice the Colby Longhorn cheese I’m so fond of. An older woman came up to the counter, walking gingerly.

“Whoooo-ooooo! Honey, it’s gonna rain tomorrow. I can guarantee it. My joints are hurtin’ me somthin’ awful today. I tell my son, I say…’Boy…don’t you go huntin’ tomorrow ‘cause it’s gonna rain!’ He listens. He’s a good boy.”

My heart smiled even bigger.

The gentleman from behind the meat counter went up to run the second register during the “big rush” at 4:00. He’s one of two brothers who own the store.

“How have you been doing today?” He reminds me of a preacher. Clean cut, kind to a fault.

“Great! We just got home from our honeymoon last night!” I said.

“Wonderful, wonderful! And where did you go?” His smile was warm and engaging.

I told him we started out with the WVU - Baylor game then headed to Colonial Williamsburg and on to the beach.

“Oh, I remember a trip to Williamsburg when I was in Junior High. What a beautiful place that is. And what beach did you go to?”

“We went to Salvo and got a beach house.”

“Oh, that’s just fine. I’m so happy for you!” He didn’t miss a beat as he continued to check me out, take my payment, and sack up my purchase. The only thing missing was an apron and a garter on his sleeve….maybe sawdust on the floor, penny candy and pickles in barrels by the door.

I do so love living in a small town. I am not lacking for anything. This is the life I’ve wanted for at least the last thirty-five years. I was telling Mr. FixIt last night what all I would have wanted to do had we married at 35 instead of 65. I would have had chickens…goats…rabbits…and a barn. Maybe a milk cow. There would have been barn cats and a trusty dog.

There are five beautiful, flat acres here…plenty of room to have that hobby farm I always dreamed of. I think I’m past all that now. Oh, I could still do most of that, but it doesn’t make a bit of sense to invest a bunch of money in fencing and structures at our age. We have different interests now…like, traveling, camping, and not being tied down by animals.

“The neighbor came and brush hogged the back acre.”

No, this life is perfect just the way it is. Our tractor was delivered today after getting warranty repairs. They just don’t make things like they used to. The guy that brought it out to the Ponderosa showed us how cheaply the wheel sprockets are made. He says they have replaced a lot of them. I went out in the field and mulched most of the leaves that fell in that section. Mr. FixIt lined all the pumpkins and gourds from the wedding all along the driveway. The mums in the backyard are already well past their prime. The leaves are still brightly colored but we are rapidly hitting “past peak” status.

We are already making plans for Thanksgiving and before you know it, Christmas will be here, as well. Even though our lives have a tendency to get busy and hectic, especially in mowing season, there is plenty of downtime to reflect on our many blessings. I hope you all are having a wonderful day! ❤️

“Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so.” Genesis 1:11 NIV

My West Virginia Sisters

Tue, 23 Oct 2018 01:30:37 -0600

“My West Virginia sisters.”

I didn’t have a sister growing up. I had girl cousins that meant the world to me. I had sister friends in high school that were very important to me. Then life got in the way and I lived in England for two years, then Colorado for forty. Sometimes I would see high school friends when I came to WV for family visit. And we would touch base and reminisce at high school reunions. But it wasn’t until I moved back home that I developed a tight network of girlfriends who are as close as family.

When I first returned to my hometown, I asked a friend how often the girls get together for coffee…assuming they, like me, gathered with other women at least monthly…if not weekly. I was dismayed when I found out this wasn’t a “thing” here. I was sad for all those potential relationships that had fallen by the wayside. I thought of all the events in a lifetime that hadn’t been shared…all the times when support was needed that only a really good girlfriend can provide. So, I set out to introduce my gal pals to the joys of coffee.

Not coffee, literally…but “coffee” as in a gathering for talk therapy and laughter and sharing and support. I’m happy to say we get together monthly at a historic hotel and kibbutz. We have become so close and we all look forward to seeing each other at least once a month. Sometimes more.

I was thrilled so many of our classmates could come to our wedding. And to have the ‘71 Divas join us was icing on the proverbial cake. Our photographer, Elizabeth Adams, had so much fun taking our pictures and she did an excellent job in capturing the joy and love and laughter of the day. Here’s my favorite picture of me and the Divas admiring my turquoise boots. What a hoot! I love these gals! ❤️

“Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.” Proverbs 13:20 NIV

The Harder Side of Love

Tue, 16 Oct 2018 01:30:19 -0600

“This is what true love looks like.”

“Love bears all things [regardless of what comes], believes all things [looking for the best in each one], hopes all things [remaining steadfast during difficult times], endures all things [without weakening].” 1 CORINTHIANS 13:7 AMP

I received a call Sunday that my sweet Aunt Viv crossed over to meet our Lord. Aunt Viv has always had a heart of gold. I remember her holding Daughter #2 on her lap and singing “Jesus Loves Me” to her when she was just a bitty thing.

Aunt Viv met my Uncle “Dudley” when they were in high school. She was a majorette. He was on the football team. They both had excellent role models growing up and their marriage was built to last. Like my grandparents, my aunt and uncle sit beside each other and hold hands. It’s precious to see.

As Aunt Viv slid further and further into dementia, I encouraged my uncle to at least consider respite care so he could get some sleep. The last two years have been terribly difficult and he often went for days on very little sleep. They did finally get some help in the form of home health care, but he pooh-poohed the idea of placing his sweetheart somewhere other than the home they built together.

The other night I was having my quiet meditation time. I read my devotionals and had a quiet conversation with God.

“Lord, I am about to be married again. There were times in my past marriages when I wasn’t very good to my husband. Can you help me be a better wife? Can you show me what that means?”

Immediately this picture popped into my head and I went through my phone to find it. Suddenly, I had this brilliant insight. Here I was, encouraging my uncle to send his beloved wife away when God was using him to show us all what true, Godly love looks like. He was showing us what “in sickness and in health” really means. I was humbled and ashamed. I immediately wanted to hug my sweet uncle and thank him for being the excellent role model he was and to apologize for ever speaking to him in such a way. What an amazing, strong man.

This is not to say there is anything wrong with people who make the difficult choice to put their loved one in a nursing home. Everyone has their own beliefs and abilities and no one should ever be made to feel guilty for having made that decision. It takes a lot out of a person to do what my uncle has done. I hate that he is so worn down. But I love that he stuck by his bride and held her hand for sixty-two years…right to the end. I think there will be an extra star in his crown when he joins her one day. ❤️

Last Love

Mon, 15 Oct 2018 01:30:30 -0600

“My sweet love…my last love.”

I was talking to Mr. FixIt sometime over the last few weeks as we were planning the wedding. I told him this was my last wedding and I wanted it to be very special while maintaining a reasonable budget. He looked at me and said, “Don’t say that. You don’t know that this is your last. Something could happen to me and I wouldn’t want you to be alone.” Of course, after losing Mr. Virgo, I’m fully aware I could lose this wonderful man. It’s part of the hesitancy I felt in the beginning about getting married. I was afraid I’d jinx it.

I can tell you honestly, though…I have no intention of ever marrying again. This is my darling. My “silver love”. My last love. My forever love. This one. It’s not that I didn’t feel that with my other spouses. You never enter a marriage with the thought it won’t last. It never really came to the forefront of my mind that Mr. Virgo would actually up and die on me. Certainly I never had a clear picture of what that would look like.

I may not have been Mr. Virgo’s first love…but I was his last.

And, for me…Mr. FixIt is my last love. No matter what. How could I possibly top this? ❤️

“Where God’s love is, there is no fear, because God’s perfect love drives out fear. It is punishment that makes a person fear, so love is not made perfect in the person who fears.” 1 John 4:18 NCV

Plan B

Sun, 30 Sep 2018 01:30:16 -0600

“My Plan A. On to Plan B.”

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” James 1:5 ESV

It was so pretty on the hanger, but...true confession...I didn’t try the dress on at the Country Living Fair. For one this, there was one dressing room consisting of four curtains and a mirror and a long line. It was ninety-one degrees. And I was working the booth. I thought for sure it would fit. It was way too big, but beyond that, the style just was not flattering on me. I was SO disappointed. Then I kinda freaked a little. We live in a small town and there aren’t a whole lot of options here for purchasing formal attire.

I jumped on Pinterest and searched for “wedding dresses for the mature bride”. Apparently, a “mature” bride is 35 because that’s how old the women were modeling the dresses. And a lot of the dresses looked matronly. I really don’t want to look like the grandmother of the bride. I AM the bride, and by golly, I’m going to look like one!

I drove to town and prayed on the way.

“Lord, thank you for all of your provision. I want to thank you for having the perfect dress waiting for me at the first shop I stop at today. It needs to be on sale, Lord. And I don’t want to pay over $____ for it. Oh, and if possible, I want to look like a queen. Amen”

I pulled into the first shop on my route. We tried a couple dresses off the rack but they neither one suited me. Then Julie, the attendant, directed me to the sale rack. She said, “I think this just might work. Try this.” It was a size 12. My heart sank. I’ve put on 15 pounds from the steroids I was on for two weeks. But I was game to try.

She helped me into the dress and when I came out and looked at myself in the mirror, I cried. Ok, I made a little 14 year old girl who was in the shop cry, ok? This dress is stunning. Nothing like I imagined I would have…or want. But, when I asked the attendant how much it was, it was $1.00 below the price I told God I could pay! We’re going to do a little fitting and then it will be perfect. I’m inot sharing any other details because that man of mine reads my blog and he won’t see the dress until I walk out to the tent. So you’ll just have to wait, too!

You always need a Plan B and sometimes, YOUR Plan B was God’s plan all along! ❤️

A Man of Honor

Sun, 26 Aug 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“Senator John McCain 1936-2018”

“Good people leave an inheritance to their grandchildren...” Proverbs 13:22 NLT

*****Disclaimer: I removed a blatant political comment from a reader. For one, because we don’t discuss politics here. I am not rewarding that kind of negativity with a response. I am not making a political statement by honoring Senator McCain. I am honoring a man who was a devoted family man...a husband, father, friend. I am honoring a soldier, like Mr. Virgo. I am remembering the sacrifices he made for this country....sitting in a Vietnamese prison as a POW, for one. I may not have always agreed with his politics, but I can still honor a man who reached across the aisles.

And lastly, the comment included a slur that I will not ever tolerate on this page. The “r” word. There is no place for that here.

I am surprised, and dismayed, at the number of people who have unliked my page this morning…obviously because of this post. I hate that we live in such a divisive society that we can’t tolerate a post that remarks on the death of someone in the political arena that sits on the other side of the aisle. I wrote this as a memorial of sorts. Not only to Senator McCain, but to his family and loved ones who are now members of a club many of us belong to and didn’t ask to join.

And to another of Mr. Virgo’s wonderful stories.*****

I am a liberal Democrat, but I really liked Senator John McCain. He spoke in a no-nonsense way and didn’t mince words. He told it like it was and he wasn’t particularly concerned who’s feathers it might ruffle.

When Mr. Virgo and I first started dating, he worked at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen. Every September, Teddy Forstmann…a wealthy NY financier…gathered the best and the brightest from around the world for the Forstmann Little Conference. He was brilliant and chose an eclectic group…from four-star generals to political powerhouses to athletic superstars. All expenses were paid and the guest roster was always super secret until the opening of the conference. No one ever spoke of the contents of the discussions in the room. Mr. Virgo and the manager of the hotel were the only two people on staff who had a high enough security clearance to go inside. And they were sworn to secrecy.

Mr. Virgo and I had been dating about a year when the conference convened in September 2006. General Colin Powell was in a wheelchair after breaking a leg. Mr. Virgo told me about tripping over him when he was serving and nearly landing in his lap. He was hush-hush about all but one…Senator John McCain. Mr. Virgo was a staunch Republican. We decided early on we were going to just agree to disagree about politics and call it good. He rarely ever brought it up, but this particular night…he came home in awe. He said, “This man needs to run for the Presidency.” He raved about the Senator’s ability to capture a room and mesmerize his audience in his straight-shooter fashion. He couldn’t stop talking about him.

I liked Senator McCain. He was compassionate yet a maverick as he fought with both sides of the aisle. His sense of honor and duty were exemplary. We’ve known for over a year now that he had an aggressive brain cancer. We knew we would be losing him. His treatments allowed him many months of a better quality of life than he would have had otherwise and that offered his family more time to share with their loved one. As those of us who have lost a spouse know, no amount of preparation ahead of time eases the pain of loss and there is a family out there today that is grieving the death of a great man. My heart goes out to them today and my prayer is for their comfort and strength to get through the coming days, weeks, months without him.

Rest In Peace, sir. Thank you for your service.

Senator John McCain 1936-2018

Hindsight 2.0

Thu, 09 Aug 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“Daughter #2 with her Great Grandmother that she doesn’t remember.”

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When I was visiting Daughter #2 a few weeks ago, she mentioned she was heading to Texas soon with her fiancé for a family reunion. She was in awe that this family was renting a beach house for a week. A large group were gathering from all around the country to play games, comb the beach, and renew the close relationship they enjoy. These reunions were started by a grandmother who wanted her family to really know each other. The younger generation decided to keep the reunions going after grandma’s death for the same reason...to remain connected by more than DNA.

I reminded #2 that I took her to West Virginia as often as I could. We had family reunions, too. But, unfortunately, they all but stopped after the older generation passed away. She didn’t really know my family. That made me sad.

She sent me this photo yesterday and asked me who was with her. I told her it was her Great Grandmother on my dad’s side. I had a strained relationship with my dad. I also had an aunt on his side of the family that I was extremely close to growing up. I emulated her, modeling myself after her beliefs, likes, and dislikes. I thought she walked on water. As an adult, I came to learn I missed out on getting to know some pretty wonderful cousins because I saw the world through someone else’s lens. I’ve since rectified that and gotten closer to my dad’s side of the family. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change my children’s upbringing.

Daughter #2 says, “We just didn’t have that kind of family. We didn’t really DO things together.” That is very true. But that doesn’t mean that going forward, we can’t BE that kind of family. We can change this course and I intend to do so, in whatever means I can. I want my children and grandchildren to really know their aunts and uncles and cousins. So, here’s to family…no matter what that looked like in the past. No matter what it may look like in the future. It is the only one we have. ❤️

Out of Order

Wed, 08 Aug 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“Thank goodness today there are modern conveniences!”

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭6:19-20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Back in the day, when I was married to Hubby #2 (the doctor), it seemed like every single bug that came along, I got sick. I had a chronic sinus infection that stretched out over two years. Using broad spectrum antibiotics caused my intestinal flora to get out of equilibrium and I developed C. Difficile. That is a bug normally found in the gut, but it’s not one of the good ones. However, it’s really hard to kill. So, the antibiotics killed off the good bacteria and allowed C.Diff to overgrow and that is not a good thing. C.Diff can kill your colon. That’s one of the reasons its important not to take antibiotics when you don’t need them. And that’s why I’ve been left with a wonky gut that gives me fits much of the time and forces me to limit certain foods.

Arriving at 65 finally has allowed me to catch up with a lot of deferred maintenance and tomorrow I’m spending a lovely morning with my gastroenterologist. Let’s just say it’s been a busy day and leave it at that. I know this is TMI, but it’s important to have routine healthcare screenings, one of which is a colon cancer screen. I had a precancerous polyp removed in my 30’s. The doctor came in to talk to me and said it was a good thing I had come in when I did or I likely would have had colon cancer by the time I was the recommended age.

Probably secondary to lifestyle and diet, the age for colonoscopy screening is now 45. More people are getting colon cancer younger. Pay attention to your body. Take care of your health. You only have one you.

Update: My tests went well. As I predicted, the prep was by far worse than the actual tests considering they give you this marvelous drug called Versed which produces not only sedation, but anterograde amnesia. Meaning, you are definitely sedated but not so much that you can’t assist and follow instructions like swallow, roll over, etc. And, you don’t remember any of it if you’ve had the proper dose. Win-Win! They did find a hiatal hernia and diverticulosis which explains my symptoms. A change in medication, and eating multiple small meals and not eating late should take care of the problems I’ve been having. So good news is…nothing bad! I’ll be back in the saddle in no time! ❤️

Hindsight

Tue, 07 Aug 2018 01:30:51 -0600

“Ahhh…the joy of youth!”

“Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3:13-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

If you could go back to a fork in the road of your life, what would you do differently? Was there that one moment that you made a split second decision only to immediately regret it? Or, did you labor over some long term plan that just didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to go? We all have those critical junctures, don’t we?

Sometimes life does offer you opportunities for do-overs, but not very often. I’ve had a couple, and the privilege was not lost on me. When I hit the bottoms of my barrel and my second marriage ended, I had an immense opportunity to rebuild my life from the ground up. It was a tremendous amount of work, but it was also tremendously fulfilling.

Losing Mr. Virgo was a life-shattering experience, but one in which there were incredible moments of personal growth. Again, I completely reinvented myself…I finally explored who I was and what I wanted my legacy to look like.

The young woman in this photograph is my friend Gail’s beautiful daughter who is traveling all over the world, teaching and learning. I look at what she is doing and marvel at her courage and strength, her stamina…her youth. While hers is not necessarily the course I would have taken, there are things I would have loved to do. I really wish I could have been a doctor. The opportunities with that would have been tremendous.

Acceptance of what was obviously God’s plan and not my own, shows me I am exactly where He wants me to be. If things were different, I would have my girls, my wonderful son-in-law and his family, my grandchildren. I wouldn’t have gone through the exact circumstances I needed to be who I am today. I wouldn’t have been married to the men I needed to be married to to learn the lessons I needed to learn. I wouldn’t have had Mr. Virgo. I wouldn’t have lost him. I wouldn’t have found love again with Mr. FixIt.

I love the freedom in this picture. It reminds me of my carefree youth and makes me smile. ❤️

Gathering the Bits of Me

Wed, 11 Jul 2018 01:30:15 -0600

“We leave bits of ourselves, like pebbles, everywhere we go.”

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭51:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

We leave pieces of ourselves everywhere. Bits of our heart and spirit get left behind where we’ve lived, loved, worked, played. Big chunks are tied to places we have experienced great love...as well as great pain. The more we leave behind, the less we have for ourselves. The less we have leftover to leave in spaces that serve us.

My good friend Marion is a Reiki Master, an amazing artist, and one of my most devoted “editors” who regularly finds my typos and helps me save face. The other day, she casually commented on one of my posts. I was feeling stretched thin and she suggested calling these bits of my spirit home.

Yesterday, I drove around Denver to the places where so much of my “self” has been left behind. Every place I went I let myself feel the attachment and asked myself if this was a good, healthy place to be attached to. When it comes to my Colorado family, the answer is an unequivocal yes. Part of my heart will always be with them. But, how about that place I used to work? Or that house I lived In when I married my second husband? Or that park we picnicked in when we didn’t have a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out of? How about the medical school that was so much a part of my life? Or the hospital I stayed in when I “dropped my basket” back in 2000? Those places don’t need pieces of my spirit attached to them.

I drove around gathering up my forgotten bits and called them back home, welcoming each one with a promise to be more careful where I leave them next time. I felt reconnected…plugged into that extra boost of energy that’s been AWOL for too long.

I realized also that I was feeling depleted by my focus on a number. 65. It’s just a number. Slightly more than 64. Not quite as big as 66. Just a number. It has nothing to do with who I am on the inside where it counts. It has no power unless I GIVE it power. Which, I realize I was doing. I was letting a number make me feel old. Irrelevant. Tired. Ok, I’ve had my moment of indulgent self-pity. Enough of that. It is time to age positively again. I’m enjoying a stage of life many do not get the privilege of experiencing. I’m calling that part of my spirit home as well…that part that mistakenly identifies as “old”. I am what I say I am. I am who God says I am. I am full of life and joy, experience and wonder, love and light. I am whole. ❤

A Line in the Sand

Mon, 09 Jul 2018 01:30:41 -0600

“Mr. Virgo’s final resting place.”

“For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered forever. He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭112:6-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We often compartmentalize segments of our lives based on what happened in that particular time frame. One might identify the child raising years and the empty nest years. Or a marriage that ends in divorce with its resultant “before” and “after”. For me personally, I have two that are particularly significant...”The Prozac Years” and “Mr. Virgo’s Death”.

There is a line in the sand between the before and after of my husband’s death. Nowhere am I more aware of that line than where I am sitting as I write this. I went to the mountains yesterday to visit my brother. He’s getting older and more frail. His ankles are swollen and he’s forgetful. I showed him pictures on my iPad and he didn’t know who our grandparents were. It made me very sad and added to the knots I already had in my stomach before I got there.

After spending the afternoon with my sweet brother, I went to visit my “adoptive parents”…an elderly couple that stood in as my parents when I married Mr. Virgo. The difference in their health in the last year is not unexpected by any means, given their age. But it still hurts my heart to see them this way.

I spent an hour with one of the dearest friends in the world and she shared some of the struggles she is facing right now. It made my heart hurt even more. And I promised I would pray for her. I love her dearly. I love all of these wonderful people. And…I’m standing right on the line in the sand. I am a stone’s throw from the cemetery as I write this.

Mr. Virgo’s grave is a mess. I’ll go to Walmart tomorrow and get some stuff to clean it up. I think I’ll lay landscape fabric and crushed stone to make it look clean. I can’t plant anything because it doesn’t rain enough here to make anything grow.

I can smell the smoke from the wildfires. Hopefully, with the little rainfall they’ve been getting, the firefighters can bring them under control soon.

I’m letting myself feel the feels while I’m here. When I’m in WV, there is so much distance. There are no constant “in your face” reminders. When I’m here, he’s everywhere. So…I’ll just lean back into the river and ride the current downstream. ❤

This Man KNOWS How Old I Am

Wed, 13 Jun 2018 01:30:45 -0600

“It’s not how many years in your life…but the life in your years!”

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

So, today is really monumental...huge...a BIG deal in anyone’s life. Today is my 65th birthday! I didn’t know how to feel about it this year. I let myself dwell on the obvious...I’m getting older. I let myself worry about the health issues I’m facing in the coming weeks. I thought about how Mr. Virgo would have SO enjoyed this accomplishment. I thought about how much I miss my Colorado family. I thought about my beautiful mom and how I called her every year on my birthday and thanked her for having me.

All this time, this wonderful man orbited me on a daily basis. Taking care of me. Loving me. Watching to see if there was anything I might need or any way he could support me better. For a couple of weeks, he was eclipsed by the hamster wheel of grief running in my brain. Then the wave was gone…receding into the background again. And I could see every blessing clearly.

Yes…I’m getting older. Isn’t that wonderful??? I’m getting older and bolder and my best days are in front of me. Adventure awaits at every opportunity.

Yes…I have some health issues to deal with in the coming weeks. Isn’t it terrific that I am blessed with great insurance that will take care of the bills so I can focus on healing and getting better after my upcoming surgery instead of worrying about how I’ll pay for it all? Blessings come in dark colored packages sometimes.

Yes…Mr. Virgo would have loved to help me celebrate this one. Wasn’t it terrific that I got to feel such unconditional love from such a great guy?

Yes…I miss my Colorado family. I get to see them in just a few short weeks and I can immerse myself in their sunshine and love. I am so honored to call them mine.

Yes…I miss my mom. She knew how much I loved her because I never failed to tell her at (almost) every opportunity.

And…I am so, so grateful to have the opportunity to love again. To feel the love of a good man. A man who watches out for me and protects me and brings me so much joy.

Mr. FixIt came home from town yesterday and I fixed us a great meal. Then he asked me to go in the other room for a while. He called to me when he was ready and I went out to the deck by the pool. He had these cupcakes with the candles lit and a lovely, sentimental card that he selected with the perfect inscription. And he gave me a beautiful rocking chair for the front porch.

Yes…chronologically, I may be 65 years old today. But this man knows me on the inside. He KNOWS I’m only 35 on the inside. And that is my best earthly gift ever. ❤

The Importance of Getting a Mammogram

Sat, 09 Jun 2018 01:30:36 -0600

“It’s important to keep up with your routine health screenings.”

When I was married to the doctor, my healthcare was absolutely top shelf. Specialists who depend on referrals for their patient load may go above and beyond for a physician’s family. A referral pattern is a terrible thing to waste. I never had to wait for appointments. My doctors always answered my calls. Testing, including my mammogram, was done quickly. And, they accepted whatever insurance paid and never charged me a dime. Professional courtesy, it’s called. I have to admit, I was pretty spoiled. My doctors in Colorado were the same ones who took care of me when I was married to the doctor so my level of care pretty much continued even after the divorce. That changed when I moved to West Virginia.

My insurance changed when I moved here and I could not find anyone who took my insurance AND took new patients. I could find one or the other…not both. So I didn’t have a primary physician until Mr. FixIt and I started dating. His doctor was kind enough to take me on. I really like him. He’s thorough and gives the same quality of care I came to expect in Colorado. I have not always heard good things about the level of care here. I didn’t have a good experience with my mom’s healthcare and that was my frame of reference. I have no complaints here.

The problem with not having a primary care doctor is not keeping up with routine health screenings. The current issue is a mammogram. I had a routine mammogram in September. I received a call a few days later saying they needed compression films and an ultrasound. They found something “suspicious.” I do not have a family history of breast cancer and this mass had every hallmark of being a fibroadenoma which is the most common benign breast tumor. My doctor and I discussed it and decided to repeat the tests in six months.

I had the repeat tests done the first part of May. This time the suspicious area was bigger. I was scheduled for an Ultrasound Guided Core Needle Biopsy, which I had done on Tuesday. If you have never had one and you need one, they really aren’t bad. The doctor numbs the area then makes a tiny nick in the skin. Then, guided by the ultrasound, a needle is placed in different areas of the lesion and small bits of tissue are removed and sent to the lab. A little bandaid over the boo-boo and off you go. Tylenol every four hours for a day and you’re left with something that feels akin to the breast tenderness you feel at the beginning of your period. Since it’s been 25 years since I’ve had one of those, I had kind of forgotten what that felt like. But, really…it wasn’t bad at all.

I went back to the surgeon yesterday for follow up. Because of the place where this mass is, getting a really good sample was difficult. The radiologist who did the biopsy told me he wasn’t sure he got a good specimen. The surgeon came in and said the good news was, there was no cancer found. But the bad news was, he wasn’t sure the specimen was the tissue he wanted to see because it didn’t quite correlate. He suggested removing the mass surgically and we scheduled that to be done on 6/21.

I know this is probably TMI, but I can’t stress enough how important it is to stay on top of your self care. Here I am, turning 65 next week, and having this done. It’s easy to blow it off, procrastinate, ignore. It’s just as easy to wait too long and miss something. My surgeon is still quite sure this is benign, but it’s something that cannot be ignored and we need to get it taken care of. Then they can do a proper test on the tissue and I can stop worrying about it. Get your mammogram, girls. It’s important. ❤

Hello, June!!!

Fri, 01 Jun 2018 01:30:54 -0600

“Hello, June!!!”

Seriously, how does time go so fast?

And, so…S-L-O-W!

Let me explain. Today…I start Medicare! What??? I didn’t think it would EVER get here. And, at the same time, I learned to drive, like…yesterday, right? All week I’ve been in awe of this moment. This is such a monumental event. Ok, getting married is a monumental event. Having a baby is a monumental event. Changing insurance plans isn’t really that big of a deal. But it is, you know?

Sometimes ideas have to stew around in my head for a few days before I can articulate them. I just have to sit tight and feel the feelings till the thought bubbles up like a spring coming up from deep within the earth. This idea of going on Medicare…turning sixty-five…is an accomplishment. One not everyone gets to enjoy. Mr. Virgo died at sixty-two. He didn’t get Medicare. He didn’t get to retire. I’ve lived three years longer than he did. There was a time when I didn’t believe I would live this long. And, here I am.

I get to go on Medicare. I get to go to Florida in a couple of weeks. I get to see my Colorado family in July. I get to have some medical procedures in the next few weeks that some people can’t afford. I get to spend my time with a really sweet, kind, caring man who loves me more than anything…and I get to love him right back. I’ve gained more family members through Mr. FixIt. I get to live in West Virginia. I am truly, truly blessed. I know this.

Yesterday was spent cleaning and shampooing the carpets in the basement. A perfect day for working down there since it was so hot and humid out. We had a brief downpour that did nothing but make the air hot and sticky. After we were finished with our chores, we went out in the pool and cleaned some more (pools are high maintenance) and only came in when we heard some thunder. That storm missed us.

A good day working and playing. Yet, I still can’t get over it. Medicare.

How did this happen? ❤️

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Endings and Beginnings

Sun, 04 Mar 2018 02:30:19 -0600

Daffodils

I watched my husband die. It was fast. It seemed relatively painless. Not pain free, but not unbearable. He seemed to take everything in stride with a certain…resignation. Like he knew what was coming, so why fight it? Interestingly…it was like that for me too, looking back on it. I’m sure I was in shock, because every time I ever pictured what would happen if/when he died, it certainly wasn’t with me sitting on a stool in the corner of the room answering medical questions in a flat monotone. I wasn’t beating my chest or screaming or even crying. I don’t remember crying till I saw my kids.

As hard as that was to go through, I cannot…simply cannot imagine what people go through who lose their loved one to a terrible, slow, painful death like cancer or COPD or Alzheimer’s. My cousin’s wife came over Friday after making arrangements for her mother’s funeral. Her mom had esophageal cancer. We sat together and I listened to her tell me about the last six months. The long nights. The conflicting medical information. The radiation and chemo. When she got to the night of her mother’s death, I was in such awe of her strength and courage. What she went through for her mom was heroic in my book. What I loved most was when her mom motioned to her, as if she needed to tell her something. When she bent down to listen, her mother kissed her on the cheek and took her last breath. My mother died alone in an ICU because I couldn’t get to her in time. She got a kiss on the cheek! I loved that for her because she will never, ever forget that loving gesture.

Crocus

Real death isn’t like the movies. Sometimes it’s that peaceful scene where the family gathers around and tells their loved one how important they were in their lives and how much they loved them. Sometimes there’s soft music and candlelight and kisses on cheeks. And sometimes they stop CPR after three hours and tell you they’re sorry. Is one way “better” than the other? Is there such a thing as a “good death”. I think there is, but it’s not always possible because death isn’t predictable. It isn’t a script.

Crocus in the Spring

Someone I love very much is dying. Not actively as in it’s imminent. But it’s coming. Everyone knows it’s coming. I love him and his entire family. For the last five years I have written a daily essay, much of it about grief. And when I talk with his wife, I feel woefully inadequate. I haven’t gone through that kind of death. I haven’t had to know it was coming for three years and fight the good fight and be strong and courageous and lose anyway. What do I say to her? How can I best serve her? I had no idea…so I asked. I told her how sorry I was that it was coming to this. I told her how much I love them both. I told her I knew she must be scared. And, I told her I was at a loss as to how best to help her. Then I asked her to tell me exactly what would help her the most right now. She said to pray. Pray for strength and courage for her. That I can do…in spades.

Daffodils in the Ditch

Grief is something that touches all of us. If it hasn’t touched you yet, it will. Mr. FixIt and I were talking about it yesterday. After losing Mr. Virgo, I’ve gone and done the one thing I SWORE I would never, ever do again. I gave my heart away to love again…with wild abandon…knowing full well what it feels like to lose. That is either absolutely crazy or the absolute evidence that God can carry you through anything. I could lose this man tomorrow. Or next week or next year or thirty years from now. Or…I could be the first to go, who knows? I’m glad we don’t know exactly when we will die. It doesn’t pay to dwell on it…but we can’t deny it either. If there is an upside…and that is truly a stretch to even call it that…it’s having the time to say goodbye, to express everything you wanted to say, to make arrangements, to learn how to do the things your partner did, and to give them the gift of your service in their transition. As Ram Dass, says…”We are all just walking each other home.” ❤️

“For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13:14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Grandmother Faces

Sun, 25 Feb 2018 02:30:23 -0600

“Grandma and me at about the same age.”

I met my gal pals for coffee yesterday…these magnificent ‘71 Divas Do Coffee. We started meeting once a month about four years ago to gather at a coffee shop and participate in a little “caffeine therapy”. I had a coffee group in Colorado that met once a week for 35 years and I really missed the camaraderie. I gathered up my friends and invited them out and now we can’t imagine not getting to see each other at least that once a month visit. There are now offshoots of the group that meet for lunch almost every week. Some of them meet to take care of a flower garden in the City Park. A few of them are going to drive down Monday to see a sick friend in Huntington. They are a grand group of gals with many common bonds…predominantly graduating high school together.

Some of us were talking yesterday about how different our grandmas were when they were our age. And how we looked at them then as SO old. We are just heading into our Medicare years. We are active, healthy, and youthful compared to our counterparts when they were 65.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My grandma was a hard worker. She could work circles around women half her age. But there were differences. Some grandmas in the ‘60s worked at home. They had raised their kids and their gardens…they washed clothes in a wringer washer and hung them outside to dry. They washed their kitchen floors on their hands and knees. They rarely went to the doctor. They baked their own bread, canned and preserved food from their land. They killed rattlesnakes and copperheads in the outhouse. They cut down trees and hauled brush. They wore sensible shoes and modest cotton house dresses with a belt and a pocket for their hankies. They may not have had much formal education yet they were smart in every way necessary. They knew their neighbors and they knew their bibles. They more than likely didn’t drink or smoke. They were a different breed.

Our generation had many more opportunities than our grandparents’ did. We moved from the farm and worked a 9-5 at an office or nursing at a hospital. We worked hard, to be sure…but not necessarily at hard labor. We got better educations, better healthcare. We voted and protested and worked for women’s rights. We bought our food in a grocery store. We had modern conveniences like automatic washing machines and dryers and dishwashers and microwaves. We bought ourselves some time. We had clubs and entertainment. We had television and news of world events. And we inched ever closer to that glass ceiling.

Fashion aside, 65 year old grandmothers now are vastly different than most grandmothers of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Did my grandma FEEL old when she was my age? Do our grandchildren SEE us as ancient like we saw our grandparents. It boils down to how WE feel and I feel younger in most ways than I did thirty years ago. I know that won’t last forever. I’m feeling the pain of arthritis in my hands and knees and hips. I don’t remember quite as well as I used to. I have to take a handful of pills at night. But, I’m telling you this right now…I won’t go down without a fight! Because…today is the BEST day…the ONLY day that matters. I’m looking forward to many more. ❤

“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Funny Valentine

Wed, 14 Feb 2018 02:30:46 -0600

“My Funny Valentine”

You know this day will come. Well…you certainly hope it does. Mr. Virgo didn’t get this far. He died at sixty-two. Mr. FixIt brought my mail home from town yesterday. I was browsing through it when I noticed an envelope from the Department of Health and Human Services. I thought it was just an advertisement but when I opened it…it was my Medicare Card.

Wow.

I had a rush of feelings. I felt…o-l-d. For about two minutes. What else? Sad…for a minute. I didn’t think sixty-five years would go by so fast. Humbled? Check. Grown up? Yeah, ok. Grateful? Definitely. Relieved? Oh, yes! My insurance costs will go down greatly. It took a few minutes till I worked my way through to the money, but once I got there, I was fine.

What a privilege it is to get to this point in my life. I’m alive and healthy. I know…Mr. Virgo is gone. And the wife of one of my dear classmates has been seriously ill and in the hospital for the last six weeks. Mr. FixIt’s cousin had a massive stroke on Sunday. I have every blessing I could ask for. I have no business feeling bummed because I’m going to be sixty-five this summer.

So, I’ve reached a major landmark in my life…a benchmark, as it were. I’m happy. I’m proud. I’m excited to see what comes next!

What an amazing Valentine, eh?!?! It can’t beat the pink roses, chocolates, and sweet card Mr. FixIt gave me…but it’s a close second! ❤

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭46:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

On Being Loved

Tue, 16 Jan 2018 02:30:37 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I have developed this little routine the last few months. We have a nice dinner and clear up the dishes. We sit together for a while and talk or maybe watch a movie or an episode of Big Bang or MASH. When it’s time for a bedtime snack, I take mine into the bedroom at the far end of the house and write while my sweetie watches a ball game or the news and weather. It works out great and we both have that little bit of alone time everyone needs in a relationship. I’ve taken to listening to nature sounds on Amazon Music as I write so quite often, in my head, there’s a thunderstorm raging or ocean waves are gently lapping at the shore or birds are singing in a tropical rainforest. It’s so soothing and easy to write to.

My guy bowls on a couple of leagues and has for over thirty years. Bowling offered him the opportunity to socialize with fun people. He is gregarious, and bowling has been a great outlet for him. The other night he stopped at the store on the way home. He always calls me before he heads home because no matter where we are staying…his house or mine…it is a good forty minutes from town. He asks if I need anything. Usually, I don’t. He called me from the driveway the other night and asked me to open the door. He’s not supposed to carry anything in his bad hand yet. When I greeted him at the door, he handed me the groceries and I ducked in the kitchen with them. It was SO cold out there…I wanted away from the door as fast as I could. When I turned around to hug him, he handed me this bouquet of yellow roses.

I love yellow roses. I love great big bouquets of mixed flowers but all in white. I love a live orchid. Mr. Virgo used to bring me flowers. And now…I have this sweet love…this good, good man. And HE brings me flowers, too. Guys like Mr. Virgo and Mr. FixIt are a rare breed. My sweetheart told me the other day he wished we had started dating in high school so we could have had our whole lives together. I understand that thinking, and it’s sweet…really. But the thing is, we are the people we are right now simply BECAUSE of the life experiences we have been through. There is a really big chance we wouldn’t have gotten along in our early years. All of our experiences have been opportunities for personal growth. We came together when we did because it was GOD’S timing…not ours.

When we can move over and get out of the way, God does extraordinary things in our lives. “Let go and let God” isn’t just a pithy saying or a tired cliche from an AA meeting. It is straight outta the instruction manual for life…the Bible. Oh, we are such proud creatures. We want to have control. We want to steer the boat and make it go where WE want it. At any given moment, there is a preordained course designed specifically for us. God knows your name. He has plans to prosper you. God loves you more than anyone in the world. He loves you more than you can fathom. You can make it SO much easier if you put God in the driver’s seat. The easiest way to do that is ask. Just ask Him…first thing in the morning. “Where are you going to take me today, Lord?” Then get out of the way. Oh, my…could it really be that easy??? ❤️

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

True Love Has No End

Sun, 31 Dec 2017 02:30:44 -0600

They weren’t much more than kids when they met. I remember the first time I met my cousin Tommy’s girlfriend, Suzy. I had such a crush on Tommy in his Navy whites. And Suzy was as sweet as they come. She’s been around as long as I can remember.

I’ve told you about Tommy. He has mesothelioma. There is no cure. And up until the last few years, there really wasn’t much to even offer people in the way of treatment. But they did their homework and took Tommy to the doc who wrote the book on Meso and as a result, he has had two really good years he may not have had before.

The treatments Tom has received are not without side effects. The toxic meds have all but killed his kidneys. They have exhausted treatment after treatment yet, thanks to generous donations and scientific breakthroughs, more and more treatments become available. Maybe someday, they will find a cure. Because…you know. Cancer sucks.

Tommy faces his illness and death with a positive attitude and a great deal of courage. They haven’t been afraid to “start the conversation”. They talk about death and his design…how does he want his story to end when he gets to the last chapter. Suzy is brave and strong. Their love knows no bounds as they recently celebrated their 56th wedding anniversary.

This year, Tommy wanted to give his “best girl” a gift that would knock her socks off. He wanted something so deeply meaningful that she would cherish it forever. Their daughter videotaped the moment for posterity. Suzy opened her gift ever so slowly. Indoor/outdoor slippers. (laughter) Then someone points out there’s something inside. Suzy looks closer and there it is…a small box tucked into one slipper.

“You stinker,” she gently chided this man she’s known forever.

She goes on to open the second gift when a puzzled look comes across her face. She turns to Tom and says, “For us?” She thought they were a matching set of rings. She looks again and finally can see…they are earrings. Someone off camera says…”Look at the ring.”

Suzy is still puzzled then Tommy holds up his left hand and she can see he is no longer wearing his wedding band.

“No!” she cried. “No! Not your ring!” You can see she is instantly devastated. Until Tommy bends toward her and shows her that he has had the date of their wedding engraved on the back. At this point, The enormity of this selfless gift suddenly hits Suzy and she puts her face in her hand and cries.

This is a sweet, personal moment between two wonderful people who love each other without limits. No disease…no cancer…not even death will truly separate these two. I asked for permission to share their story here. For one reason, I love them both so much. Second, I wanted to stress the importance of having “the conversation”, and three…I wanted to give you an idea what to do with his/her ring. Earrings made from a ring that has been cut in half would make a wonderful remembrance.

We don’t know the future. It’s not a matter of if, you know. It’s…when. We pray for a cure. We pray for new medicines. We pray for good quality of life. Time. We pray for time. Lots and lots. Oodles of time. We will love our loved ones like it’s our last day on earth…or theirs. And we will hold fast to the tokens of love like there’s no tomorrow. ❤️

www.facebook.com/melissa.a…

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭2:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Throwback Thursday

Thu, 30 Nov 2017 02:30:46 -0600

I don’t know about you, but I’m scared of all this threatening talk between the US and North Korea. I need memories of my childhood to focus on so I can sleep at night. So here goes…

I love, love, LOVE Pinterest! Think of anything….some obscure thing from your childhood…and you can just about guarantee someone has posted a picture of it. Like…Glass Wax Window Stencils! I remember the can, the color, the smell, how it felt when it dried on your fingers. I could hardly wait for Christmas so we could get a new set.

And spray snow in a can…remember that? Oh, that stuff was wicked awful. Who knows what kind of chemicals were in that stuff? We would spray it around the bottom of the windows to look like drifted snow. And I would spray it on a mirror that mom set on a table then I’d set up ice skaters and make it look like they were skating on a pond.

Ribbon candy? And those straw-like candies that were crunchy on the outside and had some sort of chocolate on the inside. And Christmas morning we would have an orange in our stocking. Or better yet, a couple of tangerines. And a candy cane. And a handful of nuts, in their shells. And a Lifesaver Storybook! We didn’t have much money when I was growing up, but we had enough for a stocking and a couple of toys. I remember the year I was ten…I got a bike! Somewhere there’s a picture of me in my baby doll pajamas, my finger over my lips and my eyes open wide as I caught sight of it! It was blue. One speed. I think the metal label said JC Higgins on it.

There were a lot of Christmas memories that I used to drag around like a load of bricks…usually surrounding my dad and alcohol. But now? Since I lost Mr. Virgo, I’ve decided to rewrite history and just remember the good parts. There was almost always a doll. A game that my brother and I had to share. Clothes. (Insert eye roll here) I begged Mom to wrap every single thing so it felt like I got more stuff. (See? I learned early about accumulating “stuff”!)

The paper was thin and printed with what are now vintage Santas or Rudolph or stripes or metallic foils. There was flat satin ribbon when we were a little more flush. Usually it was curling ribbon and a bag of cheap bows. And gift tags! There were little gift tags made out of card stock with “Season’s Greetings” and “Silent Night” printed in glitter with a space for “To:” and “From:”.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Christmas and my birthday. Some of my very best memories totally surround those two days. What are some of your best Christmas memories? Did you go caroling and sledding? Did the neighbors invite you in for hot cocoa with a big melty marshmallow in it? Did you build snowmen and forts for epic snowball fights? Let’s share some warm fuzzies and forget about the scary stuff for a little while. ❤️

“Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:4-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It’s Small Business Saturday

Sat, 25 Nov 2017 02:30:30 -0600

I avoid Black Friday like the plague. There is nothing in this whole wide world I…or anyone I know…need bad enough to risk life and limb for. I know there are great deals. I know the color glossies and TV commercials have been pumping everyone with the next great thing they can’t live without. I’m fortunate in that my kids were raised Jewish. They got a little present every night, then one big one on the last night of Hanukkah. They also had Santa but there was only one really extravagant year that I can remember. My kids and grandkids are frugal. They would much rather have money and go shopping at the after Christmas sales. More bang for their buck!

I have everything I need. I buy myself a plane ticket every year and go see my Colorado family. I don’t want anything I have to take care of or dust. This year, Mr. FixIt and I have decided instead of getting each other presents for Christmas, we’re going to carpet the family room. We’ll get much more enjoyment out of that than any appliance or sweater. And, it’s the gift that keeps on giving! I encourage you to shop small, hometown, mom & pop businesses this year. Big box stores may have better deals on cheaper goods…but they don’t have the vested interest in you personally that a small business owner has. I’ve owned my own business before…I know. This month makes or breaks a small business. Do your best to keep your money local.

I have a funeral to go to today. Sis Strickling passed away. That’s not her first name, nor is this her last name…my family always just called her Sis “Stricklin’”. She was born and raised on the country road a couple miles from the farm. Always sweet and with a smile on her face, my favorite memories of her were at the little one room church house where Grandma went. Sometimes she would come over to the farm for a visit while I was there. She kept her house neat and tidy. After her husband passed away, she went to Ohio to be with her kids. Her memory went at the end and I know it was so hard for her family. I praise God that he gives us an eternal home with no pain, no tears, and no illness. I know her husband and loved ones who went before her met her with open arms.

It took the longest time for me to be able to go to a funeral after Mr. Virgo died. I wasn’t sure I would ever go to another one, but surprisingly…it’s BECAUSE he died that I can go easily now. If I begin to get anxious, I remind myself I am doing this for the loved ones. This has nothing to do with me…it’s all about them. I was so touched by everyone who came to my husband’s funeral. Their presence meant more to me than they will ever know. I remember so few individuals, but I do remember a sea of faces and that equates to a boatload of love. That love helped me through, so that’s why I go to funerals now.

Mr. FixIt and I put up the Christmas tree last night. It’s our first one together. Blending traditions gave us ample opportunities to discuss and compromise. He wanted the tree in the dining room where you could see it from the road. I wanted it in the family room where WE could see it. We compromised by moving furniture around so we could put the tree in front of the picture window in the family room. This way we can see it from the side road coming in AND while we’re sitting in the family room. I’ll put lights in the dining room window so he can see it from the big road. Even through the top branches of the tree were pretty tippy, the mechanical angel HAD to go on top. I managed to wedge the branches around enough to support her and she is beautiful. Melding…it’s what you do when you keep adding to your family. At this point, if we got everyone I’m related to through marriages together, that would be one huge family portrait. I am so, so blessed to add so many branches to my family tree. ❤️

“May the Lord our God be with us as he was with our ancestors; may he never leave us nor forsake us.” ‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭8:57‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Accidental Love

Tue, 21 Nov 2017 02:30:28 -0600

Old Mama Kitty is gone. I haven’t seen her in six days. She’s always at the back door, right at supper time. There were a couple of times this summer when she was gone for a day or two, but never six. She’s old. I know that. Just this fall, she seemed to be telling me she was tired. She has one leg that trembles sometimes…and not necessarily because of a chill in the air.

Being a farm cat, Mama is tough. She doesn’t take any guff from the younger boy cats. If they get too close to her feeding dish, she has no problem swatting them away…claws and fangs bared. They give her a wide berth on the front porch, arcing around her, well out of kitty reach with sly glances from the corner of their eyes. She has probably been to the vet once in her life and that was when she was spayed. She’s never been sick that I know of. She will act like she wants you to pet her, then she swats you if you linger too long. She’s one tough kitty.

I thought we’d lost her back in 2014 when I first came to the farm. I walked down to the road to get the mail and coming back, there…by the end of the driveway…was a yellow cat that had been hit by a car. I came up to the house to get my work gloves and a shovel. My aunt was still living on the farm at the time. I went to her and told her I was sorry, but Old Mama Kitty was hit by a car and was gone. I went back down and picked up the cat to take it up by the barn to bury it when…I saw the evidence. This was definitely NOT Old Mama Kitty. This was a boy! I wish I would have had the wherewithal to check that out before I told my aunt.

I had only had one cat in my life before coming to the farm. Ginger was yellow with deep gold stripes. I didn’t seem to be allergic to her as a teenager but the older I got, the more indoor cats bothered me. Ginger went to another home when I moved to England after I was married. Mom hadn’t wanted a cat in the first place. She just tolerated her for me.

I’ve always been more of a dog person. Dogs are easy to understand. Feed them. Throw the ball. Scratch the good places. Go for walks. They will worship the ground you walk on. Dogs have owners. Cats have staff. You are extra special if a cat loves you. It means you’ve met the criteria.

The problem with pets is, unless you own a large bird or a turtle, they are going to die before you. And every time a pet dies, they take more of your heart away. I’ve had to put four dogs down in my lifetime. It kills me.

I don’t want to think of Mama Kitty as “gone”. But, this is what happens with farm animals sometimes. They seem to know when it is their time, I think. I feel a little guilty though. I’ve been away a lot the last couple of weeks helping Mr. FixIt clean and paint his house. I was at the farm every day to feed the cats and spend time with them. Then, six days ago, she just wasn’t there. I called and called and called. It’s sad because I really came to love her. She’s been around forever. She was my Uncle Bob’s cat. He died in 2005. It’s like losing a family member. I know there is still a slim chance she could come back, but I really think it’s time to let her go.

Pope John Paul II stated that animals have souls and are important beings in God’s creation. And, since souls can go to heaven, it isn’t a stretch to picture our pets running and jumping on us when we get there. I hope to see all my fur babies when I get there!

I inherited Old Mama Kitty with the farm. She was my accidental love. And…I’ll really miss her. ❤️

“His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭25:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It’s Just a Phase

Fri, 17 Nov 2017 02:30:27 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I graduated from the same high school class. Our classmates started gathering once every two or three months for dinner. We are “of an age” where loss is too real and we want to enjoy each other while we can. Last night was just such a gathering…and it was wonderful. There were forty-two of us…our largest gathering yet outside of an actual class reunion.

Being the social butterfly that I am, I went from table to table to visit so I could speak with everyone, at least for a few minutes. Some of these people I’ve known since first grade. They are all Important to me, whether I’ve known them forever or not. Some of my dearest friends were talking about Mr. FixIt and I. One of them mentioned I’m in a new phase. She wasn’t crazy about my “I downsized so you all should too” phase. lol I don’t blame her…I can beat a subject to death sometimes.

We’re having a dozen or so family members over for an early Thanksgiving Sunday. The family room is nearly finished. Another coat of Kilz on the second door then the trim color can go on. A little touch up here and there, then up comes the tape and drop cloths, a good vacuuming, and move the furniture back then I can start cooking.

Yes, this IS a new phase. Not totally uncharted territory. I’ve been in relationships before. I’ve nested and played house and been Susie Homemaker. This time around is different somehow. It’s more deliberate…easing into it, savoring each moment like a fine French wine or an aged Camembert. Feeling the silky smoothness of love and fun and laughter and even the serious moments. I love this phase. Remember how you wanted to stop your kids at three…at least for a while? Three-year-olds are perfect. They have gained some reasoning skills and they are sweet as sugar. That’s how this feels. I want it to just be like this…forever and always. I’m a realist…and a dreamer. ❤️

“The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride. Do not be quickly provoked in your spirit, for anger resides in the lap of fools. Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions. Wisdom, like an inheritance, is a good thing and benefits those who see the sun.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:8-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Long Goodbye

Wed, 15 Nov 2017 02:30:40 -0600

I have a longtime friend…I’ll call her Betty. Betty is retired. She was a child and family counselor…and a darned good one. She is kind, gentle, tender in her approach. She was an intuitive therapist. She raised a beautiful family. She had struggles along the way, as we all do. Some of hers were really difficult. But, in the end, she is still with the same loving spouse, and her children are thriving.

Several months ago, Betty contacted me and asked me to go to lunch with her. It was there that she revealed she had been diagnosed with dementia. It was hereditary, she explained. She already saw the signs and was struggling a bit. She wanted to thank me for teaching her to quilt because it has been a favorite pastime for her the last few years. Her legacy is in the quilts she stitched by hand as well as the books she wrote.

Betty’s biggest worry, she told me over lunch, was being a burden to her family and friends. She told me she was going to become more involved in Facebook as a way to stay engaged and interested. She didn’t want to disappear into the shadows of her mind. I encouraged her to write and remain present as long as she could. In true Betty fashion, she turned her Facebook page into a lesson…of love, of courage, of perseverance. She used to send me private messages occasionally. Bringing an article to my attention. Sharing a travel photo. Sharing a memory. Then the private messages stopped. A few days ago, she shared that her dementia was worsening…right on schedule. She doesn’t leave the house much anymore. She realizes how much she is forgetting and she hopes she isn’t boring any of us. I told her this:

We love you. We cannot fully understand what you are going through. But, we can certainly empathize. It must feel like you are leaving on a cruise ship and the people on the shore are getting further and further away till they disappear. But here’s the good news. The land to which you will eventually arrive has streets paved in gold. There will be no more illness and pain. Only love and joy. And when you can no longer feel our hands, turn around and reach for His. He is always waiting for us with arms wide open.

It’s been a long goodbye. And while I will miss her sweet, gentle posts with pictures of “Home”, I know for a fact she is surrounded by people who love her very much. They will support her as best they can. They will guard her and protect her and wish her bon voyage. I do not know where she will go when she gets lost in her mind. But I hope it will be pleasant and not painful for her. Safe travels, my friend. I will see you on the other side. ❤️

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23:1-6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Letting Out Your Inner Child

Tue, 14 Nov 2017 02:30:05 -0600

I saw something yesterday that totally melted my heart. Daughter #1 is at Disney World with her family and her brother-in-law’s family. She was standing with Mickey and Minnie Mouse. There’s a long story why this was so touching for me.

I was a single mom with #1 by the time she was two years old. It was not easy. We lived in HUD housing. We got WIC and food stamps. There were roaches and the people downstairs abused their kids. I looked in the open door one day when I walked by and my neighbor yelled at me to keep moving or she’d “come up behind me and slit my $&@?ing throat!” It was NOT a healthy scenario and if I had been any brighter or bolder, I would have packed up my stuff and hightailed it back to West Virginia. But that wasn’t what I wanted for my little girl. I wanted her to have every opportunity that I didn’t have growing up and I knew if I worked hard enough, I’d get her out of there. We would have a good life.

And things did get better. I got a really good job. I found a roommate, I lived frugally. I got good daycare. She was never wanting for the basics, but there wasn’t much extra. Just lots of love. Then, we met Hubby #2. He was applying to medical school. We worked really hard. He was a good daddy and a great provider…even though it was many years before we started making any money.

We moved to a small town when my ex finished residency and joined a practice. We were thrilled to be in the mountains and a lovely community. Daughter #1 was going into 7th grade…a tough age to make such a big move. The kids at school only knew her as the “new doctor’s daughter”. There was a group of kids out on the lawn one day, talking about how hard it was to not have money for nice things. My daughter spoke up and said she totally understood that. The kids scoffed and she told them, her dad wasn’t BORN a doctor. There were many nights we ate a box of generic mac & cheese and a tomato out of the yard. She had a genuine appreciation for where she came from and she gained the respect of all the kids.

Still, we didn’t really start making a decent living till she was nearly finished with high school. Then we had her little sister. My girls are nearly sixteen years apart. It was a different world raising the two of them. The level of affluence was drastically different and the little one definitely made out when it came to vacations. My younger one was only two or three the first time we took her to Disney World. By then, her older sister was in college. I never did get to take my oldest to see Mickey and Minnie…something she never, ever let me forget, even though she understood why.

She’s been to Disneyland a couple of times with my son-in-law’s family. But never Disney World. Not till this week. I’ve been going on her Facebook page several times a day to see the pictures she posts. Yesterday…there she was. Beaming. Standing between Mickey and Minnie, grinning from ear to ear. The post simply read, “Six-year-old me is happy.” It made me smile. It warmed my heart. She is showing her children a good time. She is sharing her joy with them. She’s such a good mom and I’m so proud of her. I’m proud of both of my daughters. And…I’m happy they know how to let their inner child out to play. ❤️

“Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭3:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I Spy With My Little Eye...

Sat, 04 Nov 2017 01:30:20 -0600

Some very observant readers picked up on something in my picture yesterday. My inbox lit up like a Christmas tree! I didn’t answer the questions directly and suggested they come back today to read my post. I love a little mystery. What was it they saw? A ring…a shiny ring…on my left hand!!! squeeeee

Yes, I have a ring! And in all fairness, so does Mr. FixIt. I gave him his first though. So here’s how it went down, what it means, and how we’re feeling about it.

Early in the year, just a couple months after Mr. FixIt and I started seeing each other, we found out there was something wrong with his blood. The initial thoughts were he had leukemia. Suffice it to say, we were both pretty devastated about it. After all, we just “found” each other again after 45 years. It would be terribly tragic to turn around and lose him, too. He had more tests run and they were worse, so we went for a bone marrow biopsy.

We had been talking about a life long commitment but that’s as far as it had gone. Then the blood thing came up. I wanted some way, some outward sign that would show Mr. FixIt that…no matter what the results of this bone marrow biopsy, I was in this for the long haul. I didn’t want him to worry or be afraid. I happened upon a beautiful gentlemen’s ring and in a moment of impulse, I bought it. We were leaving for the hospital when I pulled out the box and told him I wanted him to know…good or bad…I’m not going anywhere. I thought he was going to cry. He knew I was sticking with him, but the gesture was not lost on him. He asked if this meant we were engaged. Smiling, I said, “Halfway.”

One evening we were going out to dinner with friends and I stopped by Mr. FixIt’s to get ready. I was sitting out front when he came home. He said, “Oh! You’re wearing my favorite dress!” I stood up and twirled around. He had a concerned look on his face and I thought. “Uh-oh. Somethings wrong.” He looked at me and said the dress was missing something. Something sparkly. Then he gave me this beautiful ring!

Here’s where it gets complicated. This is the most personal I’ll ever get about our relationship. I don’t want to get married again. At least, not in the conventional way. I’ve had three husbands. That’s two other women’s quotas. It has nothing to do with how much I love Mr. FixIt…or Mr. Virgo, for that matter. When women of a certain age become widows, they qualify for “widow’s benefits”. If they get married, they lose that. Things don’t work in the widow’s favor in this regard. Therefore, a lot of very long engagements take place in my age bracket. And that’s just fine.

From a faith standpoint, it slays me that women are forced to lose income in order to do what God says to do. Someone said to me…”Well, you aren’t trusting God to provide.” To which my answer is…maybe He already provided. Maybe those widow’s benefits ARE his answer to prayer. The Lord takes care of those who help themselves. To me, it would be crazy to throw away money He had provided.

Long engagements are still in vogue. I will be here for the long haul. The rest is a matter of semantics. So, no…there’s no date set. No fanfare. No hoopla. Just love. Lots and lots of love…always and forever. I’m sure I’ll be talking to God about it when I get to Heaven. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long conversation! ❤️

Edit: He still has an abnormality which they have determined is not leukemia. They still don’t know what it is. We have to repeat the tests in six months. I’m sorry. I was writing this late and missed that piece.

“…..may you ever be intoxicated with her love.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭5:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Promise

Fri, 03 Nov 2017 01:30:13 -0600

Three thousand seven hundred sixty-four. That’s how many days came between these two pictures. On the left, the day I married Mr. Virgo. Is it any wonder that handsome man wanted to marry me??? Look at that fresh face, smooth skin, dark hair with just a smattering of gray. Where are the wrinkles around my mouth? Where is all the proof of my sorrow and my joy?

It was a warm spring day stuck smack dab between storms. They shoveled the snow off the balcony so we could get married outside. I had shopped and shopped for the perfect dress, finally finding it on eBay for $45! It was too big so my friend took it in for me. I loved the beads on the silk with hand painted flowers. I thought I looked like a million bucks!

If I had it to do over again, I would have had Mr. Virgo plan the wedding. While it was lovely, it wasn’t until the honeymoon when he reminded me this is what he does for a living. I hadn’t even thought of that. I was just so darned excited to be marrying this great guy, I just barreled through like a bull in a china shop. I asked him why he didn’t say something, and in his sweet, self-deprecating way, he told me, “Sweetheart, it really is all about you. You were having so much fun with it, I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.” I started to ask him what he would have done differently and I know he would have said, “Nothing, baby doll. Not a thing.” Because, that’s the kind of guy he was.

We stood before some seventy-five or so of our family and friends and shared our vows. We promised to always be there. Till death do us part. We had no idea at the time it would only be five years, eleven months, and five days till the unthinkable happened and he was gone.

There is joy on that face on the left. Fresh with the wonder of love and a wedding and music and dancing and cake! Fast forward a decade and look…that face has aged. It has seen indescribable loss. The eyes have shed a river of tears. The hair has a lot of glitter in it. And, there is also joy on that face on the right. Fresh with the wonder of love and music and camping and great barbecue and the handsome man taking my picture….my life companion. The woman on the right is wiser. Older chronologically, but not in her heart. While I lost so much when I lost Mr. Virgo…I ended up gaining in the end. I have a much greater sense of adventure. I’m not so “in the box” as I used to be. I got out from under crushing debt and the weight of long held worldly goods. I figured out what’s really important in life. I’m SO different now than I was then.

I am relieved to be this far down the road of this grief journey. The pictures I have of those weeks, months, years break my heart. I try not to think about the possibilities of having to walk that path again but I’m realistic enough to know it can happen. I know I could survive it again if I had to. But, for now…I think I’ll just hang on and go for the ride. The best is yet to be! I’m becoming a crone! ❤️

“The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭2:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Art of Aging

Sun, 29 Oct 2017 01:30:15 -0600

I sat in the big leather chair yesterday and gazed around this circle of marvelous, beautiful women I have the honor of calling my friends. We all graduated from high school together…could it really be forty-six years ago??? We’re a diverse group. Some were jocks in high school. Some were wallflowers. Actresses. Musicians. Artists. Dancers. Some were heavy into books. Some were heavy into boys. We were shy…and we weren’t. We were scared…and we weren’t. And look at us now. These raven-haired beauties have glitter on their crowns now…whether we choose to show it or not.

What is age but a number and an attitude? I haven’t climbed all these mountains to ignore the view. I worked hard to get up here. I got knocked down a few times. (Haven’t we all?) But, I kept on climbing because the view is pretty magnificent from this side of sixty. I don’t want to be young. I’ve been young. I don’t want to lose the character lines on my face. I’ve had alabaster skin. I don’t want to be skinny. I’ve worried about my tummy for the very last time. What I haven’t been is sixty-five and seventy-eight and ninety-two.

When Mr. Virgo died, I truly thought my life was over. In a way, it was. THAT life was. But I got a new life…whether I wanted it or not. I built it to suit me. Stripping away to the foundation of your soul takes great courage. My mantra every day was a whimper…”Move forward…move forward…move forward.” From a whimper to a whisper to a shout, joy was my carrot on a stick. Did I ever dream I’d find love again? I did at some point. I can guarantee it took a while to get there. Did I ever dream I’d find a love like THIS again? Oh, h*** no! Is it better than what I had with Mr. Virgo? It’s different…as it should be. I wasn’t looking to “replace” my husband. I was looking to enhance my life with joy, and Mr. FixIt brings that and then some.

I don’t want to be anything but what I am because if I lose focus on sixty-four, I’ll miss it. I want to be present with my breath and my heartbeat…my bones and marrow. I want to feel my muscles move as I strive to continually improve them. I want to taste my food. I want to smell sunshine on fresh sheets. No…I don’t want to be young. I want to be me…at every stage. I want to make aging my canvas…my art…my muse. ❤️

“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

How Far Have We Really Come?

Fri, 27 Oct 2017 01:30:06 -0600

I have really been getting into nostalgia lately. The other day I shared my Pinterest page of Childhood Memories. When I have a few minutes, I go on and add a few more. It’s interesting how Pinterest works. When you click on something, you soon see more and more pins in that category and it’s been a fun walk down Memory Lane. Some of the memories I could do without, though.

Eventually, I started seeing ads…legitimate ads…that reminded me of a time before “political correctness” became de rigueur. Ads about keeping women in their “place”. Ads about making little girls feel less unacceptable by dressing them in Chubettes. Ads about keeping slim for your man by taking amphetamines or gaining weight if you’re too skinny in order to be more attractive to the opposite sex. It makes my blood boil that generations of women…including my own…were made to feel “less than”. To be objectified…categorized…scrutinized. Ads like this one. I mean, seriously…what is this even about? What are they saying? “Wear these stylin’ kicks and your woman will worship the ground you walk on. As an added bonus, she’ll do it fabric free!”

Finally…finally, finally, finally…these kinds of ads fell out of fashion. It became considered to be in poor taste to openly objectify women. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen…it most certainly does as is evidenced by current events being reported. People of power often take advantage of those seen to be beneath them or weaker than they. Hopefully, this is a gut check and might strike a more even balance of power in the future.

I was visiting one of the “widow pages” I frequent on Facebook the other day. The topic of one post was regarding the Hollywood actresses who went back to their abuser in order to get another part. She couldn’t understand how a woman could do that. This smacked dangerously close to blaming the victim so I had to step into the fray and offer my two cents. It IS difficult to understand how a woman could go back to the same circumstances and risk abuse again. That is, until you try to look through her lens. She’s an actress. It’s what she does. She depends on the power brokers of Hollywood to promote her, hire her, give her a break. The power broker knows this. He is emboldened…drunk with his position to make or break the careers of nubile young coeds. She (or he, as the case may be…actors are not exempt to abuse) knows what will happen if she is blackballed in Hollywood. She might as well go back to the Midwest or wherever she came from and get a job, because she or he will never work in Hollywood again. Everyone knows this. They just didn’t talk about it. And, finally…somebody told. The hoopla over it all will die down with the next news cycle but maybe some meaningful change will occur.

We’ve come a long way, to be sure and there’s so much further to go. I understand people’s frustration with “political correctness”…sometimes even I think it can be excessive. But, when I was growing up, it was called being polite, doing the right thing, showing respect. The Golden Rule. Good manners. And there’s nothing wrong with exercising plenty more of that. ❤️

“For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:14-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Turning Back Time

Mon, 23 Oct 2017 01:30:31 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I go to church every Sunday. It has become the center of our relationship and sets the tone for the rest of the week. It helps us keep our focus on God first. This is the first time in my life that I can go to church with my love every single week. I love it!

We went to the noon service yesterday and decided to drive over in Ohio to a flea market we’ve had our eye on. Really, the only thing there I felt was worth going for was a really awesome antique store. They had a lot of beautiful pieces of furniture at very reasonable prices. But the one thing that really caught my eye was the Soapbox Derby racer. It was obviously sponsored by someone out of Zanesville…a rather large town east of Columbus on I-70. It brought back such fond memories.

I have some cousins on my dad’s side of the family through my dad’s youngest brother. When I was growing up, my mom used to take us to their house several times a week. My cousins were older than me so we weren’t terribly close. But I adored my aunt. She was always fifty years ahead of her time. She did great projects with her kids. One year they actually built canoes and studied the currents in the Ohio River. They built a putt-putt golf course in their yard. They went scuba diving and water skiing. I was enthralled with all of them. They were larger than life. I remember feeling honored when I got their hand-me-downs.

One year, the passion-du-jour was the Soapbox Derby. In typical fashion, my aunt sat down with the kids and researched and pored over ever bit of engineering information they could get their hands on. And they meticulously built the perfect racer. And, of course, my cousin won. They always won everything they put their minds to. One year, there was a treasure hunt. The grand prize was a Ford Pinto. They won. They were awesome.

When I saw that racer in the antique store, it made me think of other toys and things of my childhood. I went on my Pinterest page and created a board called “Childhood Memories” and…holy cats! So many cool pics popped up. Things I had totally forgotten about, like those colorful pens you could buy as souvenirs with a scene in a water-filled tube. There would be something like a boat or an airplane that would move through the water when you tilted the pen. I found a TV that was just like our first one. There was our phone, and my skate key, and colored toilet paper and the black and white sign-off screen when the station went off the air at night.

If you’re interested, you can check out my Pinterest boards at https://pin.it/h0vDp2x I have all kinds of boards on there. Pinterest is addictive, though…quite a time suck if you let it. I have to limit myself or I could lose hours in there!

I’m having coffee with some of my high school friends today…one of which I haven’t seen in nearly fifty years. Talk about bringing back childhood memories! I hope you have a great start to your week! ❤️

“And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets.” ‭‭Zechariah‬ ‭8:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

#childhood, #memories, #soapboxderby

Free Spirit

Wed, 11 Oct 2017 01:30:38 -0600

Much of my life was spent trying to conform…to not be too loud, too big, too much. To fit into the mold of who I (and others whose opinions I valued over my own) thought I should be. I was a doctor’s wife. I was supposed to fit in, entertain, volunteer. I converted to Judaism. I smiled, a lot. I had a perky voice. I did the best I could. And still, things unraveled, my marriage fell apart, and it darned near killed me.

It took a long time, and a lot of therapy, to find my voice. So many times women hang their identity on a hook by the front door and become who they need to be…who they’re expected to be. I have two beautiful daughters who are wonderful adults. Honestly, I don’t know how they survived me because I was a hot mess back in the day.

Mr. Virgo was the first man to really “get” me. He was patient and listened intently and fiercely supported me. He helped me see, and really FEEL, my value. When he died suddenly, my world and my self-confidence was rocked. When I was alone on my grief journey in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado in the first few months after he died, I really understood for the first time that it’s up to me to be happy. If we search for happiness from external things, we will always be disappointed.

I had a Mr. Virgo-sized hole in my heart and a God-sized hole in my life. I couldn’t bring Mr. Virgo back, but I could…and DID…reach out to God to fill me up with a peace only He could give. My go-to scripture became “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Over and over, through long anxiety-riddled nights, I repeated it till I believed it…till I felt it in my bones. And magically, God filled in the empty, hurting places with a golden love-light like none I had ever known.

I was telling someone yesterday…I loved Mr. Virgo with the white-hot heat of the sun. But I still never felt whole till I loved GOD with the white-hot heat of HIS Son. My light shines from within. I carry myself differently. I’m happy and content with myself and my life. And now? Now I have Mr. FixIt. I’m so glad he came into my life after I was broken open. I don’t know that we would have appreciated each other if this would have happened at any other time in our lives.

God’s timing is so perfect. ❤️

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭12:6-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Beckett Brothers

Thu, 07 Sep 2017 01:55:18 -0600

I never met them. I didn’t know them. But, I knew who they were. Everyone knew who they were. When I was a little girl, you didn’t drive anywhere in town without seeing them together…walking. They walked everywhere. They loved to travel. One would always walk about ten feet behind the other. Their determined stride would take them cross town and cross country. I’ve heard stories. “They were very wealthy…they just chose to live this way.” I don’t know the truth. I do know they called them names. “Pete and Repeat”. “Mutt and Jeff”.

In truth…they were Gerald and John. They were inseparable. They were not twins but they dressed alike. Always. One time one of them was injured and they got a wheelchair. The well one wheeled the sick one. When he finally got well, an argument ensued. The well one felt it was his turn to be pushed around but the sick one refused to give up his cushy gig. There were lots of stories. But not a lot of people coming forward with open arm to help these guys. Finally, a girl named Heather was driving buy and saw them with the wheelchair stuck in the snow and said a prayer. “Lord! Why don’t you DO something for these men.” And God answered her…“I did. I made you!” So Heather turned around, drove back, and helped the men out of the snowbank in her high heels. Thus began a loving friendship between the most unlikely of people. Heather taught her children to love the way Christ loved.

This week, Gerald died in his sleep. Heather and her family was at his side. So was John. We’ll just have to wait and see how John fairs without his brother. I pray for his comfort. I pray for Heather and her family as they make this journey with only John. Parkersburg has lost a legend, an icon. It will never be the same without them walking the streets together. ❤️

“Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭133:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Twenty-Seven..."When Your Mom Dies"

Thu, 03 Aug 2017 01:55:10 -0600

My friend, Fred, lost his mom yesterday. We got the word while we were visiting Buffalo Bill’s grave. It made me think of my mom. It made me think back to when my oldest was about three and Mom came out to Colorado for a visit. I brought her up here and we sat on this very bench. She was well and happy and healthy and I thought I’d have her forever. Years later, my mom got sick suddenly and was gone in five days.

Nature tells us our parents will age and eventually die, leaving us to go on as best we can without them. But, at least for me, we never are prepared for how we’ll feel when the time comes and we have to say goodbye to our source…the giver of life, the nurturer, the teacher, the nurse, the chauffeur, the disciplinarian, the confidant. We’re never ready…we’re blindsided with the enormity of the loss. Incredulous as it may seem, this larger-than-life woman had the audacity to grow old and leave me.

It’s been thirteen years since I lost my mom. I still want to call her every Sunday evening. I think of something to share with her then sadly remember she is gone. And now Fred is a member of the club of orphans…his mom gone away from him. He is alone. My heart is with him and his family.

We enjoyed the visit to Lookout Mountain yesterday. And, last night I spent the evening with all my girls. Mr. FixIt takes great pics and it was so much fun to laugh and share funny stories. Stories about their dad…and Mr. Virgo…and Grammy. We hated to break away and end the evening. We vowed to talk more often. Another day done. Another day filled with love. ❤️

“Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:28‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Fourteen..."My Person"

Thu, 20 Jul 2017 01:55:37 -0600

I’ve been holding my breath for months now. I wanted to talk to you about it, but I couldn’t. It was really complicated and it was scary and it had to do with Mr. FixIt and I hadn’t told you about him yet. I was still trying to figure out how to introduce a new character into our little story here without changing the dynamic so much that you ran away in droves. Come to find out, I needn’t have worried about that. Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive of my new love and I am so grateful. So, now I can tell you the other half of the story.

Mr. FixIt and I hadn’t been seeing each other romantically very long when he had an annual physical and some blood tests came back abnormal. The doctor wanted to wait three months and then repeat the lab work and this time it was even worse. He referred us to a specialist and Mr. FixIt had a series of tests. One of the possible diagnoses was leukemia. My heart both sank through the floor and jumped out of my chest. This was my biggest fear…that I would fall in love with this wonderful man and be over-the-moon happy only to have him get sick and die on me. Leukemia. Just thinking the word made me physically ill. And Mr. FixIt was flat out devastated that he just found happiness and the rug could get pulled out from under us. He hated that this scared me to death. It scared him, too.

He had a bone marrow biopsy and after waiting three weeks, we finally heard the news we had been praying for. It is NOT leukemia! Thank you, Jesus! That’s the good news. The bad news is we still don’t know exactly what it is, because there IS something going on. But our doctor contacted the specialist at West Virginia University and they both agreed to watch and wait six months and repeat the tests then.

I let out my breath. This man has become so important to me. He has stolen my heart. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We’ve always been great friends. That came first. But to fall in love, to open my heart again and to love so deeply after the profound loss of Mr. Virgo…only to lose again? I couldn’t bear the thought. I prayed…fervently. I asked others to pray…unspoken prayers, specific prayers, prayers for healing. “Please, don’t let it be cancer!” “Please heal him.” “If he’s sick, let it be something easily controlled and non-life threatening.” Denying. Bargaining. In his favor, Mr. FixIt is extremely healthy, walks 5-6 miles a day, has purposefully lost sixty pounds, and eats a healthy diet. I can’t help but think, whatever this is, it can’t be too awfully bad or he wouldn’t be this healthy. So I’ll breathe. I will relax a little. I didn’t realize how wound up I was till I heard the doctor on the other end of the line in our phone conference Tuesday.

And now, my sweetheart is here with me! Oh…standing in the greeting area of DIA yesterday, my heart leapt with joy when I saw this handsome man, this lean and lanky guy with the graying red hair, my best friend in the whole wide world coming up the escalator! I could hardly wait to get a hold of him. Our good news of the day before underlining the poignancy of the moment. What would I have done? What if it would have been the worst case scenario? It is not unreasonable for my widow-mind to go there because I’ve been there before. Well…I’ve had a little time to think about those “what ifs”. And I’ll tell you what. Our love is long term. Platonic for the majority of our lives…romantic for only the last few months. It doesn’t matter. When you love someone, and you are dealt a blow, there is only one thing to do…you just hold hands and walk into the fire. Together.

We are grateful we have each other at this time in our lives. We celebrate this wonderful chance at love. We thank God for his bountiful blessings. We put our trust in Him for He has plans for us. ❤️

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11-14‬ ‭NIV

Road Trip: Day Ten..."She Is My Crown"

Sun, 16 Jul 2017 01:55:59 -0600

Dear God in Heaven…thank you for bringing this small human into my life! She and her sister are the delights of my life. Yesterday was our semi-annual “Nana and Little’s Day of Fun!” Each grandchild gets to pick and choose what they want to do with Nana, where and what they want to eat, and how the day and night will play out. Big is thirteen now so we pretty much go shopping and have lunch although last summer she did want to go to the Denver Aquarium with me. Little is only ten and she is still all about the fun we can have. Her day is always centered around shopping, doing a craft or baking, and a sleepover in TOW-Wanda. She told everyone at the mall what the significance of the day was and what we’ve done and what we’re going to do. She’s like me…gregarious, funny, creative. Her sister is the thinker, brilliant, caring…strong and tender.

Little always comes up with the funniest things. She is deep and profound and hilariously, seriously funny. Our first stop was 2nd & Charles…a bookstore where you can sell or trade your old books, movies, CD’s…even vinyl. There are three bins out front filled with free stuff. Yesterday, I picked up a book by Michael Moore, a cookbook with gluten free recipes, a Dr. Who Christmas Ornament still in the box, and Audubon’s Field Guide on Insects and Spiders of North America. Not a bad haul. As little and I rummaged through what was left in the bins, she came across a coloring activity sheet from either a Sunday School or Vacation Bible School. Jesus was standing with several children and someone had placed a sticker over his mouth. Little turned to me and said…“Nana…I can’t tell if this is Jesus or a Jedi.” For some reason that just totally cracked us both up and the more we laughed, the funnier it got. Joy…sheer joy. This is my reward for being puked on at 3:00am…for putting up with a sassy pants teenaged girl…for the pain of letting her grow and get married and move to the opposite end of the country. This. This sweet child and her sister.

Last night was dinner out with the other grandparents and a viewing of the first Harry Potter movie with popcorn. We “camped” in the driveway in TOW-Wanda. This morning is church with my girl. My heart is so full. ❤️

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When "I" Becomes "We"

Sat, 01 Jul 2017 01:55:15 -0600

You could knock me over with a feather. I never, ever dreamed I would get another chance at a deep, loving relationship after losing Mr. Virgo. I’ve walked this path of widowhood for over four years now. At first, I was adamant. I would never have another relationship because I would never go through this again. It was just too hard. I had an ill-advised attempt at dating just five months after my husband died suddenly. It didn’t take me long to figure out that was a bandaid that I hastily slapped on the gaping hole where my heart had been. When I ripped that bandage off, the pain was even more unbearable. I didn’t try again for another year. My second attempt wasn’t much better. Both were perfectly nice men. They just weren’t for me. And the timing was still too soon. I had a lot of healing to do before I could risk dating so I made up my mind I’d just give it to God. I told Him if He had someone for me He’d have to just dump him in my lap because I wasn’t going out there looking anymore. It was too hard on me and it wasn’t fair to involve men and break hearts along the way.

I’ve kept myself busy. I’ve traveled. I’ve deepened my relationship with God because He became my primary focus. My writing grew in depth and meaning. My reach broadened. I had everything I needed. But I still wanted someone to share it all with. I was planning to live up at the river again when I came back to West Virginia last August. Then I got the call that my aunt wasn’t doing well and was going to go live with her brother. My uncle asked me to live on the family farm. And I put down more roots than I’ve had since I sold my Colorado house three years ago. It has been an amazing time of healing for me. I have a wonderful group of friends and a rich social life here.

Sometime in the fall, I ran into an old friend from high school. I’ve known him for almost 49 years. I was fifteen and he was sixteen when we met. He was on the stage crew and I was in the art department. One day I was up on a ladder painting a backdrop. I heard someone clear his throat. I looked over and there was this tall, lanky redhead with the most beautiful blue eyes and an impish grin. We became fast friends and always looked for each other in the halls. Funny…we never dated in high school. We were both shy. We both went on and dated others and after graduation, our paths went in different directions. We never forgot each other though and were always so happy to catch up at class reunions.

Sometime before Thanksgiving, we ran into each other and the timing was finally right for us. He invited me out for lunch and the rest, as they say, is history. He understands me. He is tender and sensitive to my needs as a widow. He has made room in our relationship for Mr. Virgo because he realizes he is only gone physically. He listens to my stories. He knows Mr. Virgo would have been the kind of guy he would have respected and enjoyed being around.

I’ve been leaving breadcrumbs for you here. I’ve spoken of “my friend”, “my traveling companion”, and even his blog identity…“Mr. FixIt”. He has fixed many things for me…around the farm, around my heart, around my life. He is so much fun to be around. Sweet, attentive, open, honest to a fault…an honorable man I am proud to be with. We wanted to keep this to ourselves for a while for a number of reasons…not the least of which was just savoring every moment with it being just us. Now, we’re ready to step out into the world and walk through anything life hands us…hand in hand. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I am not sure how this news will be received. But, since the very beginning, this blog has been about speaking openly and honestly about my grief journey…and this is just another twisty turn in it. My grief is not over. It will never be over. I’ve gotten through the worst of it, by far. Even though I’m in a relationship, I am still a widow. Once a pickle, always a pickle…you don’t get to go back to being a fresh cucumber again. I have always wanted my story to be about my love for God and to give you hope. Hope that, if you want to travel, pull a little camper, write a blog, or fall in love again…you can. Life comes to a screeching halt after the death of a spouse. Everyone’s grief is different…but, you CAN find joy again. I’m living proof of that.

I hope you will stick around and see what comes next. I hope you’ll share the love and joy and hope. It’s all about beauty. It’s all about love. It’s all about life. ❤️

“Do two walk together unless they have agreed to do so?” ‭‭Amos‬ ‭3:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

There is Hope

Thu, 22 Jun 2017 01:55:43 -0600

If you are grieving, please know there is hope…for healing, for brighter days, for joy. Those of us who have walked this particular journey know full well the feelings of hopelessness that come in the dark of night. We know how hard it is to find the motivation to do the simplest of everyday tasks like personal grooming, cleaning house, cooking. Preparing a meal becomes Herculean. Brushing your teeth is as daunting as climbing Everest. Balancing your checkbook is something you did in a former life…you know, that time back in the day when your brain functioned as it should.

When you are slogging through the midst of this madness called grief, it is easy to lose hope that things will ever get better. After all, how could they without your special person? I know, when I lost Mr. Virgo, my world came crashing in at my feet and I swore I would never feel anything but the crushing pain of loss. I was so tired, so depressed, so angry, so fearful. In the picture on the left, my eyes were puffy from crying all the time. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat right. I didn’t exercise. It was all I could do to breathe…and I didn’t even do that very well. Do you remember what it felt like to not be able to take in a deep breath? I sighed..a lot. That’s actually a physiological response to grief.

I was a Christian before I lost Mr. Virgo. One of the “hidden gems in the flames” of grief has been a closer relationship with God. That depth of love has brought me through the darkest days of my life. I cannot imagine how I could have possibly survived this without my faith. There were long nights where sleep simply would not come and anxiety would have me paralyzed and physically ill. I tried everything to make it stop. There were nights I thought about the gun in the cupboard. About how easy it would be to just end this suffering. But…I simply could not do that. After having suffered a near-fatal overdose during a severe depression seventeen years ago, and seeing the devastation that caused my family, I knew full well that would never be my way out. No, somehow I had to find a way to get through this.

I remember nights when I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t form words. All I could do was moan in pain. I would close my eyes and visualize Jesus. I would picture him sitting on a bench in a beautiful garden…his robes as white as snow, his dusty sandals strapped to his road-worn feet. I couldn’t speak before him. All I could do was moan…my pain escaping from my throat in guttural gasps. And when I would look at him, he showed me such compassion. He held his arms out to welcome me into his presence. I walked forward and collapsed at his feet and laid my head upon his knee and sobbed. And he would gently stroke my hair and console me. He loved me as a father…as a brother. He poured his mighty love and light over me and washed away the pain for that particular night with the sincere promise that I could come back any time for more. He is always there…my comforter, my rock. And now look…he poured SO much love and light into me, it flows outward. I finally fully understand the phrase, “My cup runneth over.”

If I bring you anything with my words, let me bring you hope. Hope for brighter days. Hope for sleep-filled nights. Hope for healing. Hope for joy. I couldn’t have done this alone. I have my writing. I have you all. I have the love of friends and family. And I have Jesus. Jesus makes me shine. He most definitely makes me shine. Ok…Rodan & Fields skincare helps, too…but it’s mostly Jesus! ❤️

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:26-27‬ ‭NIV‬‬

#RFGoNaked

? Will You Still Need Me? ?

Tue, 13 Jun 2017 01:55:29 -0600

I have waited a long time for this birthday so I could sing that Beatles tune! I have always loved my birthday. That one day of the year where it was all about me. My Grandma celebrated my birthdays with a homemade cake every year. It was always the same…a yellow cake with penuche frosting. (http://www.food.com/recipe/grandmas-penuche-frosting-22376) If you’ve never had it…you must, you must! I could literally sit and eat it with a spoon, warm out of the pan. Divine! We didn’t have that gosh awful icing in a can when I was growing up. Frosting was a handmade confection from handwritten directions that was handed down from generation to generation. I still have Grandma’s “cookbook”…a stenographer’s notepad with her eighth-grade-education scrawl, written with a stubby, hand sharpened pencil, no doubt.

Mr. Virgo made a big deal out of my birthdays because he knew what it meant to me. He would call the girls ahead of time to make sure they remembered and invite them to a restaurant. Like Christmas, he would shower me with gifts that he remembered me saying I liked. He was a generous man. The girls have done a good job remember me on my special day. It may not be on the actual day, but when I get to Colorado next month, we’ll have a gluten free cake. I want a yellow one with penuche frosting this year!

I received a beautiful gift last week…an early birthday present. A friend of mine said, “What you need out here is a good picnic table!” The next visit, I had one! What a kind gesture and a lovely gift! I am so blessed! Birthdays after loss can be sad affairs. I remember that feeling of loneliness and yearning I felt…especially the first couple of years after Mr. Virgo died. Now I make my own birthday celebrations and I make sure I include all those whom I love. I don’t wait for others to remember. People have busy lives. I’ve done that…waiting for others to remember me then being disappointed when they don’t. Not any more. I am quick to let everyone know it’s my special day because I want to celebrate with them! ? When I’m 64! ? ❤️

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Shooting Stars

Sun, 28 May 2017 01:55:13 -0600

I didn’t go anywhere yesterday. I sat out on the front deck with my coffee for a couple of hours then took a short walk on the beach. It was already getting hot and oh so crowded, so I came back to the condo and sat on the front deck for another two hours reading and writing. True decadence. I cooked a nice supper and went down with a chair to sit on the beach for sunset. I had a lovely conversation with several people and was gifted this photo of myself. I have to tell you this…and I’m not being vain or self-aggrandizing. But, it’s been a long, long time since I felt this beautiful. It was such a peaceful day. The sun was setting. The mist began to settle in on the beach and my skin felt dewy and fresh. I even had a glass of my “merlot”…a dealcoholized wine made by Fré that I really enjoy…as I watched the people strolling up and down the shoreline. Some 40-year-olds tossed a football back and forth. A little 12-year-old girl practiced on her surf board. I sat out till long after dark, watching the stars come out and the moon slowly set. I saw two huge shooting stars overhead and counted my many, many blessings. I had heard there were fireworks scheduled after the concert down at the pavilion by the pier. I saw two or three small ones but it didn’t amount to much. Then I walked up the beach with a flashlight looking for crabs and jellyfish. I saw a few, and also the first seagulls I’ve seen during this trip…only three or four of them. Lots and lots of pelicans, though.

So that was my day…peaceful, joyful, happy, and oh so grateful!

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭37:4‬ ‭NLT‬‬ ❤️

The Art of Aging

Sat, 08 Apr 2017 01:55:19 -0600

To quote Anne Lamott… “Age has given me what I’ve been looking for all my life - it gave me me.” In a few short weeks I’ll be 64. Sixty-four trips around the sun. Sixty-four birthday cakes. Sixty-four years of blood, sweat, and tears. Three weddings…four if you count the renewal of vows in the second marriage. It didn’t help…it still fell apart. Two beautiful children. Two grandchildren. Births. Deaths. New loves. New heartbreaks. More new loves. I don’t know…eight or ten “careers”? I’m a Gemini…sue me!

I’ve come to believe that aging is an art form. Look at this beautiful woman. There is mirth, secrets, love, resignation, wisdom in every crease of her face. Her eyes are windows to her soul. She is not perfect. But she is real. She embodies the crone. The dictionary defines crone as a “withered, witch-like old woman”. There is a movement now of honoring women over a certain age as fountains of wisdom, information, and grace. Finally, we are beginning to relish living in our own skin with our wrinkles, silver hair, age spots, cellulite, and comfortable tummies. We have found ourselves. Sometimes it’s through great acts of bravery…like, getting a divorce or becoming a widow and managing our worlds in spite of the pain. Sometimes it’s through the loss of children. Sometimes it’s when we find ourselves abandoned or abused. We find ourselves through age.

Aging isn’t necessarily pretty. Disease can rob us of our health during what should be our golden years. Sometimes disease robs us of that one true love and our worlds will never be the same. I have a dear friend who lost her husband to cancer. Now, her BFF is dying and while she holds her friend, she has panic attacks and flashbacks of her husband’s decline. This is a brave woman to still be able to be there for her friend. I love her for that. She is a crone…through and through. Her wisdom and love are helping her friend in her transition. She is painting a masterpiece with her heart that would rival any by Monet, Renoir, daVinci.

Aging ain’t for sissies, according to Bette Davis. We are crones. We are wise when we don’t feel wise. Strong when we don’t feel strong. I embrace my inner crone. The outer one is beginning to look more and more like her. My crone-self doesn’t have time for drama. No time for BS. No time for fake people. I’m ready to take on the mantle of crone and be darned proud wearing it. ❤️

“She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Photo Credit: “Old Woman” by Jessica Powers (via Pinterest)

Country Kitchen

Sun, 13 Nov 2016 02:30:52 -0600

When I left this place in 1973, I was like most teenagers. I knew everything. I knew how the world worked. I knew I loved my boyfriend and we had just gotten married. I knew we were going to be married for, like...EVER! I knew I was going to have a dozen kids and I was going to be an x-ray tech. And I was going to live far, FAR away from this simple place that lacked my worldly sophistication. After all, I left here and went straight to England to live in a foreign country and drink proper tea. I certainly didn't need these simple country people. I was on my way up.

And, I didn't need them for a while. I had a baby overseas and I did fine. I set up housekeeping stateside and I did fine. Till that little starter marriage ran its course and then I wasn't quite so sure. That was the first time I decided to move home. I quit my job. I gave notice at my apartment. I called for the movers. Then I sat down and cried. I couldn't figure out what was wrong till the movers came and I sent his stuff and I stayed. That took guts. I knew very few people. I didn't have a job nor did I have a place to live. But I knew God would provide for me so I didn't worry about it.

God did provide. I found a roommate. Then I found a job. And eventually, I met a nice man. Hubby #2 was in medical school when I discovered Mother Earth News. My mom wouldn't let me be a hippy so I really, REALLY wanted to be one in the '80s. I bought Birkenstocks. I wore maxi skirts. I taught myself to garden, can, and preserve. I made yogurt, bread, granola, tofu. I made quilts. I sewed my clothes. I even made my husband's ties. Then we moved to the country and bought a five bedroom log house on two acres and I considered myself "a farmer".

I had a huge garden and cut and split cord after cord of firewood for the wood stove. Then baby #2 came and changed all that. Now, baby #2 is 26. I'm a widow and retired. I'm a writer, blogger, gypsy. And now, a farmer...again. And here I am, back in that country kitchen. The one I tried so desperately to get away from. I guess maybe I didn't really know everything back then after all. Heck, I STILL don't know everything. But I'll tell you one thing, this little country kitchen makes my heart sing!

❤️

“I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.””‭‭
Genesis‬ ‭28:15‬ ‭NIV

Just Passing Through

Mon, 17 Oct 2016 01:30:51 -0600

I can't remember ever having a day quite like yesterday. I always pray during the opening worship service and ask God to speak to me personally through our pastor's message. He didn't fail me...He never does. And it was powerful. After church, I went for a drive to look at the beautiful fall colors. I pulled into the cemetery where my grandparents, great-grandparents, and other family members on my father's side are buried. After paying my respects, I had a picnic in the park by the river then moved on to drive up by my Aunt Marge's farm. I have wonderful memories of that place and it was sad to see it so run down. The building in this picture is the Wilding Graded School just down the road.

I was returning home, driving out a country road when I noticed some people talking in a yard. Suddenly they rushed to the road and started pointing ahead of me. I looked up and there was a cloud of dust flying. A car and truck had collided at high speed in the intersection not farther than a football field ahead of me. I was one of the first to stop to help. Just as I got to the truck that was overturned, two nurses rushed up with their medical bags and climbed in the cab as best they could. The occupants were severely injured. I believe the driver was killed. The nurse kept coming back out for air then diving in again. I could do nothing but pray. I asked God to give her the skills she needed, the words of comfort to say, and the strength to carry out her tasks. That's when I heard her say, "Do you know Jesus?" The man said he did. I knew my part was done and I needed to get my truck out of the way. I was still shaking an hour later and the image stuck with me well into the night.

After my Sunday evening service, I checked Facebook and saw a post from my second cousin. Her mom had taken a turn for the worse so I headed to the care facility to sit with family for a while. I got home after 1:00.
I'm in a season of my life where people are slipping away from me. Mr. Virgo. My parents. Friends. Acquaintances. They're dying. They're moving on. I keep recalibrating my compass, yet true north eludes me. Big changes are coming into my life. Doors close. Windows open. On and on. I don't know why everything seems so poignant right now, but it's like something orchestrated. I'll trust the process and see where this leads me. After all, we're just passing through here.

❤️

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long.”‭‭Psalms‬ ‭25:4-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Note to my Younger Self

Tue, 11 Oct 2016 01:30:24 -0600

Hello, sweetheart!

Look at you...so young, so full of promise in your first grown up formal dress. Beside you is your first boyfriend, who becomes your first husband, the father of your first child, and...ultimately...your first divorce. It isn't the first time you're going to feel like a failure. And, sad to say, it isn't your last. You have a problem that stems back long before this day. It isn't your fault...your daddy drinks too much and isn't a very good model of the man to look for. Oh, that fellow beside you there is a good man and years from now you're going to learn to be friends. But, he just isn't your guy for the long haul. Neither is the next one, as it turns out. Your "picker" is kinda broken and it all started with those shiny, patent leather Mary Janes...remember?

Mom took you to buy shoes. You were about nine or ten. You desperately wanted those black Mary Janes. Everyone was getting them. But, they only had one pair left and they were a little too small. When Mom said we'd keep looking you threw a fit and insisted they fit fine. You were so afraid if you didn't take what was there, you'd never get what you so desperately wanted. Unfortunately, you repeat this over and over till you finally learn your lesson.

Leave the shoes, sweetheart. You honestly don't need anything in your life that isn't a perfect fit...be it shoes, jobs, men. Trust me, the right thing/person comes at the right time...exactly when you need it. Really.
Don't put too much stock in what others think of you, either. You can trust your gut. You can do anything you want. Yeah, I know...you don't get to be a doctor like you really want. But, you do ok for yourself with what you knew at the time.

Tell Mom or a teacher or a minister...somebody. Tell them about what happened at the hands of your abusers. You weren't bad. You didn't do anything wrong. It's ok...you don't have to wait till you're 35 to tell. By that time, there's going to be so much damage done, it's going to take a lot of work with a therapist to help you love yourself.

Now, here's the most important thing. Don't run away from God, honey. You feel Him knocking on the door of your heart. Open up and let Him in. Your life is completely healed when that happens. You don't have to wait till you're 51. Because, close on the heels of finding a relationship with God, you're going to find a wonderful man who will be your champion. He will carry your heart on a velvet pillow. You're going to lose him too soon, but your life is going to be so rich because of him.

Then again...when you're 63, you're going to know in your heart that you are the wonderful woman you've become because of the path you take. That 63-year-old self is pretty darned happy with her life.

Just do your best, dear heart. Know you are loved and never alone.
But...really, don't buy those shoes. Keep looking.

❤️

“Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you.”‭‭
1 Timothy‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Soul Talk

Fri, 30 Sep 2016 01:30:30 -0600

Last winter I thought I was done here in West Virginia. I missed my children and my grandchildren. I was bored, overweight, and more than a little frustrated with my life. I wanted time to go faster because I thought the farther I got from the day Mr. Virgo died, the better I'd be. At the same time, I didn't want to wish my life away. I was at a crossroads when my life exploded and things started to get interesting. I started getting messages from my soul.

The soul has its own language...its own voice. You hear it through your heart, not your head. You feel it. When I was asked to submit the proposal to speak at the Positive Aging Conference, I reached a fork in the road. I could keep doing what I was doing...eating my emotions and living a sedentary lifestyle. Or, I could change my nutritional intake, start moving, and grow. I wasn't sure how I was going to accomplish it. I had to get still and listen to my soul.

March saw me making these great changes and the weather in WV is SO much better than Colorado at that time of year. My soul said, "Stay...your work is not done here." So, I stayed. I trusted. The Holy Spirit speaks through my soul and into my life and guides me. I knew better than to second guess. A door closed. Another opened. And now...now I'm living this peaceful, serene life. It is idyllic. It is quiet. I have the love and support of my family and friends. And something nebulous is growing. It is outside of my grasp right now...like trying to see through a foggy glass. But it will be mine when the time is right.

Eat.
Rest.
Write.
Listen.
Stretch.
Trust.

What is out of reach will be revealed.

❤️

“My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding— indeed, if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God.”‭‭
Proverbs‬ ‭2:1-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Comfort Zone

Thu, 22 Sep 2016 01:30:15 -0600

I don't know what happened to the post I wrote for yesterday. I suppose it got lost somewhere in the airwaves along with the video of my talk Sunday night. Facebook isn't always cooperative, is it?

While trying myriad ways to post that video, I had a lot of time to reflect on just how far I've come in the last several years. There was a time when the thoughts of speaking in front of a group of people would have sent me into a tizzy. Stage fright kept me from doing many things I would have liked to do in my life. Community theater, musical performance, and even stand-up comedy are all dreams I've had at one point or another...but fear kept me from pursuing any of them.

One morning, probably twenty years ago, I was visiting with friends over breakfast at one of my favorite restaurants in Glenwood Springs. Cris Aronson was there. She was the high school speech and drama teacher at the time. Someone was talking about how great life was going for them and, in my best Ethel Merman impression, I started belting out "Everything's coming up roses..." Cris whipped around and looked at me and said, "You can sing!" I assured her, I could not...even after singing right in front of her. A few weeks later, she called me and said she was directing Fiddler on the Roof for the community theater and she wanted me to come try out. As a matter of fact, she said she chose that musical with me in mind. Oh, no. No...sorry. No way! The thoughts made me want to throw up.

It makes me sad to look back at that woman who was so afraid. How many opportunities did she miss? How many times did she listen to the opinions of others and believe she wasn't good enough? Countless, I'm afraid. It took a potentially lethal overdose and the death of my handsome Mr. Virgo to bring me out. To strip away the fears that have held me back for so long. And now, look at that beautiful, confident woman in this picture. I'm not saying that to brag...I'm just marveling at the difference. When people tell me I glow, I know where my light comes from. God shines through us when we let Him. It's how we bring light into the world. And oh...this world needs more light! So, I'll keep shining my light at every opportunity. And I'll post pictures. Not in a boastful way...but with love and encouragement. I know I'm not the only one who suffers from stage fright. I'm not the only one who has suffered low self-esteem and anxiety and depression. God knows, if I can do this...anyone can. It just takes standing up. And lots of prayer.

❤️

“Joshua said to them, “Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Be strong and courageous. This is what the Lord will do to all the enemies you are going to fight.””
‭‭Joshua‬ ‭10:25‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Happy Birthday, Mr. Virgo!

Sat, 10 Sep 2016 01:30:02 -0600

You were the brightest star in my night sky. You carried my heart on a velvet pillow. You were my handsome man. You taught me how to live without you. You taught me how to love, how to trust. You showed me there were good men who stay.

With every passing year, you step back a bit into the shadows. It hurts, but it doesn't. It makes me sad, but it doesn't. Having you, and losing you, have become a part of who I am. As real as my wrinkles and my right arm. You are a part of me. The scars on my heart will mark where you sat in my life. Thank God I can think of you now and smile. Thank God I got to have you.
You would have been 66 today. Instead, you are forever 62. At the top of your game. And...I will always, always love you!

❤️

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Conversation

Sat, 27 Aug 2016 01:30:38 -0600

This conference is being run in a format unlike any I've ever attended. It is entirely conversational. Small groups gather at round tables to hear a speaker present their talk. The ensuing discourse comprises the other half of the session. It offers an open sharing of ideas and allows true connections to be made among the participants.

I attended yesterday's sessions regarding alternative modes of housing for seniors that allow them to age in place. We discussed co-housing, house-sharing, and how to select a proper home-mate. The benefits of co-housing far outreach the obvious decrease in living expenses. Health and safety, security, and reduction of the carbon footprint are all valuable benefits. I've been considering for some time that I won't be able to live the gypsy lifestyle forever so this has at least introduced the conversation in my mind. Short of having another relationship, co-housing answers a great many problems with living alone. And, even if there were another relationship, I've learned all too well not to assume it will last forever. Co-housing is a valuable option for seniors wishing to live independent, happy, and healthy lives for as long as possible.

Oh, all three sessions I attended yesterday were live streamed on CSPAN and my son-in-law's mom recorded it for the grandchildren. I was strategically seated in full camera view. Nana rocks!

So, today's the day I speak to these very cool people! I'm so jazzed!!!

❤️

“They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green,”‭‭
Psalm‬ ‭92:14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Broken & Mended

Sun, 14 Aug 2016 01:30:51 -0600

One second and forty-five years. It only took one second to drop the cream pitcher that broke this plate. It's irreplaceable, really. But I'll tell you about that in a minute. First, I want to tell you about how mending can take forty-five years to complete.

When I was a young girl, I was already broken in many ways before I got to high school. Childhood sexual abuse and an alcoholic father took a toll on me long before I graced the halls of Parkersburg High School. Come to find out, I wasn't alone. The rigors of adolescence plays havoc with our world view. At least it did with mine. I was inwardly quite shy and insecure. There were perceived slights, teasing, bullying...few of us escaped that brand of pain.

This class reunion was remarkable in many ways. It was pretty chill. Till the last two hours. Then it happened. Everyone let their hair down...or what was left of it. We danced with wild abandon. We laughed till we cried. We walked up to people who wouldn't have given us the time of day or we secretly loved from afar and held on. There were surprises at every turn. There was gentleness and love. Genuine caring and respect. There was mending...of relationships, of inner turmoil...an acknowledgement of more similarities than differences because of our common bond of cultural, emotional, and educational experiences. There was a sort of collective sigh of relief that we're not dead yet so bring on the party!!! In other words, I'd have to say, this was a successful reunion. And, the richness of Facebook will keep us reaching out to one another.

Now, the plate. Yesterday morning, we had a lovely gathering of the '71 Divas for coffee at my lifelong family friend's house in the historic district. I was doing dishes at the end of the event and dropped a creamer onto a plate...breaking it. Then, I found out it had belonged to our hostess' mother who recently passed away at 101. As a matter of fact, it had been a wedding gift. I felt horrid. I spent a good portion of the day scouring the Internet for a replacement. Some things break and need replacing. And sometimes they just need a lot of time and life experience to mend themselves.

❤️

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. You will tread on the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.”
Psalm 91:11-13

"Hi...I don't know your name either!"

Sat, 13 Aug 2016 01:30:48 -0600

A friend wore this button at our class reunion last night. We're at that age where we kinda know the faces but coming up with names is getting harder. There were many classmates there for the first time. There are too many gone for good. We had a huge class...741 I believe. We've lost about 10%. I had so many delightful conversations. I had no idea how many of my classmates read Marshmallow Ranch. It was touching to hear one tell another. I'm so humbled. And I'm so happy I do what I'm doing. I came home with a great big smile. Looking for more of the same tomorrow!

45 years ago, we walked out of those doors for the last time as students. Today, we walked out with renewed friendships and appreciation. What a beautiful life! ❤️
““A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.”John 13:34 NIV

Looking Up

Sun, 07 Aug 2016 01:30:15 -0600

Remember lying on your back on the grass on a hot summer day and looking up through the tree branches above you? The ground was lumpy and cool. The grass tickled the backs of your legs. Bugs buzzed around your ears. And your skin was damp with the salty sour sweat of playing Tag or Red Rover. There was magic in that cool shade beneath those branches. Something solid and comforting...as if the arms of Mother Nature herself were protecting you from the great big world of adulthood.

Last night, I went to a concert on a hill overlooking town. A local musician opened and the main act was Ronnie Frugé, a true Cajun guitarist from the bayous of Louisiana. He told stories about his songs and entertained us for nearly three hours. I didn't have a blanket, but I laid my head back and looked up through the trees overhead and remembered those days when summer was waning and the new school year loomed large in front of me.

I was always filled with this sense of change when I was on my back under those trees...a mixed feeling of excitement and dread. And that's what I'm feeling right now. For those of you following along for some time, you'll remember I came to West Virginia two years ago to care for an elderly aunt that needed help. It didn't work out for either of us and I moved on to other arrangements. She hasn't been feeling well lately so she's visiting her brother and I'm going to stay at the farm for a while. This is the home of my heart, the place that has always been my "safe place". Having to leave so abruptly two years ago affected how I saw the old homestead in my heart. I'm hoping by going back, I can regain some of the magic it once held for me. I want to connect with it again. So, I'm excited to go stay there. Yet, I'm afraid it will never be the same. I'll just have to see what kind of magic I can work while I'm there.

And, here's the problem. There's no cell service on the farm. And, there's no internet unless I drive a few miles away to the family cemetery, which I have no problem doing. But, I'm thinking I need to just....be. Be present. Be there. Be disconnected. Be peaceful. Be introspective. I need to write without distraction. And then I'll be back Thursday evening to start my weekend of festivities for my high school reunion.

I'm going to spend some time looking up through the branches of my life...of my past...and just stare at the sky for a while. I know you'll understand.

❤️

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.””
Joshua 1:9 NIV

When the Lights Go Out

Sat, 06 Aug 2016 01:30:05 -0600

Since losing Mr. Virgo, I've always said "Nothing scares me!" The truth of the matter is, "Nothing MUCH scares me!" Something does, though. I'm afraid of the dark. Not the dark of night. No...I'm afraid of what happens when the lights dim and go out in your mind. Someone close to me is having difficulty with that right now. A couple of people, actually. And I have to tell you, that scares the crap out of me. FOR them, of course. For their loved ones who watch them withering away, their minds shutting down like faulty circuit boards on a stormy afternoon. And for me...and the impact it would have on my kids.

What must that feel like? Knowing something isn't right. Forgetting things and knowing it's happening. Feeling out of control, out of touch. I know at some point the disconnect is complete and you're no longer aware. But oh, that twilight time scares me. That...awareness of not knowing. We don't know what our lot in life will be. We can only hope and pray we will face whatever comes with dignity and grace. And trust that God will be there to carry us through.

❤️

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
John 14:27 NIV

Silver Strands

Mon, 01 Aug 2016 01:30:30 -0600

I'm going to my 45th high school reunion soon. While the event itself wasn't my motivation to lose weight, I must say the timing is convenient. But there's one thing that's not changing and that's my hair. A lot of my friends are talking about their hair and whether they should let it go to their natural color or keep dying it. I spent a lot of years, and a lot of money, trying to cover up who I am. I won't do it anymore. God made me this way. He promised to love me when my hair is white. I'm just going to trust that and keep on being me.

I know that's not for everyone. If coloring your hair makes you feel better about yourself, you should do that. But if you're coloring your hair out of fear, I'd invite you to do some inquiry about that. It can be really difficult to embrace that drastic of a change if you have had a full head of dark hair all your life and your natural hair color is silver. The transition is stark. Asking your hair stylist is moot. She/he isn't going to encourage you to come in less often and spend less money.

Some of my friends say they would love to stop coloring but they're afraid their hair won't be a pretty gray. We aren't all blessed with a natural color that pleases us. For me personally, my hair was always a mousy brown that wasn't particularly shiny. My hair is fine but I have lots of it. Gray hair is a bit more coarse. I'm happier with my hair the grayer it gets. I was visiting friends last weekend. Their houseguest remarked that women would pay big bucks to get the streaks that have shown up as I 'ripen'.

Hair style and color is a deeply personal thing. It's our way of expressing to the world how we see ourselves...how we want the world to see us. If you're happy, I'm happy. However, if you really want to stop coloring your gray and are afraid of what you might find underneath, I encourage you to be brave and walk your way through that transition with courage. You can always go back if you hate it.

❤️

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
Isaiah 46:4 NIV

Bridging the Gap

Wed, 27 Jul 2016 01:30:15 -0600

I close my eyes and see her. Fresh faced, a light dusting of freckles from the summer sun splashing across the bridge of her nose...the nose she got from her grandmother's side. Her innocent blue eyes and ready smile were endearing. Her long legs gave her the appearance of a filly gamboling about with the abandon of youth. Her skin was firm and smooth without blemish. Her hair long and sleek, one side carelessly tucked behind her ear as an afterthought. Her arms crossed her chest in an attempt to hide the budding breasts tucked in her stretchy training bra. She knew the touch of men long before it was appropriate. She felt shame, even though it wasn't her doing. She didn't know how to fill up the space that was "her". Her lips felt the first brush of gloss in her vain attempt at growing up. She lay in bed at night under a thin sheet, the hard-shelled beetles tap-tap-tapping on the ceiling, the heat bringing beads of sweat to her upper lip. She was beautiful in her plainness. She was graceful in her awkwardness. She wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to be free.

I know this girl. I know her intimately. I've lived her life over and over and over in my mind. She lives inside my mind...inside my heart. I close my eyes...and we are one. I stroke her cheek...I feel it on my own. I run my fingers through our hair. Did I waste my youth? Don't we all, to some extent? Would I go back if I could? It's probably a good thing that isn't possible because I just might. What would I do differently? The singular most important thing I would do differently is have a relationship with God. My life would have been so much richer if I'd have included Him in it. I wouldn't worry about what others thought of me. I'd go to medical school. I'd collect more stamps in my passport and less stuff to dust and maintain. I'd learn to swim and sail and kayak and fly fish and haul a camper at 30 instead of 60. I'd be a bit more discerning in men and finances. I'd learn several languages. I'd act in community theater. I'd be a comedienne. I would be kinder to my mother. I'd be more patient with my kids.

I open my eyes and smile. The lines on my face show I have experienced much laughter. The hole in my heart shows I have loved deeply. The callouses on my feet mean they have carried me many miles. I keep that fresh faced girl in my heart where she belongs. And I smile. I always smile.

❤️

“who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”
Psalm 103:5 NIV

Cowgirls

Wed, 20 Jul 2016 01:30:18 -0600

I love Americana Roots music. I go to the Americana music series in Parkersburg every chance I get. But last night I experienced a rare treat. I went to the Olde Town Pickin' Parlor in Arvada with some of my Sisters on the Fly friends. An amazing group of talented musicians gathered to play their own music as well as some standards.

This was Americana with a twist...it was western music. Like Cowboy Poetry western. Juni Fisher was there. She sang about her beloved horses. She sang a haunting song about an Irish washer woman seeing a Native American across the river and recognizing her as a mother, just like herself, and not an enemy. There were a couple of cowboys there who sang other songs about ranches and cowboys and dancehall girls. The slow, sweet strains of a cowboy singing a love song will tear your heart in two.

I looked across the room and saw a man standing along one wall. He seemed familiar in some way. Perhaps we had worked together in the past. Maybe he just had one of those faces that remind you of someone else. As the evening wore on, I was drawn back to this man repeatedly. Then it hit me. He looked like someone I knew. An old lover from maybe '77. I was pretty young...he was maybe ten years older. I never caught his eye. I didn't interrupt him. He was with a woman I assumed was his wife. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. But, I smiled at the memory of my time with him as I listened to songs about unrequited love, the lonesome lyrics making me feel my heart beat. He was a very nice man and, in my clumsiness, I may have hurt his heart. There was no need to revisit that.

It's difficult to impress on young people the stories of their youth may show up in the most surprising places...at the most inopportune times. These are the things we learn when it's too late because you can't un-ring a bell. I'm glad I saw him. I'm just as glad he didn't see me.

❤️

“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”
1 Corinthians 10:13 NIV

Magic Moments

Sun, 17 Jul 2016 01:30:53 -0600

I spent the day with Big yesterday. There's something magical when you break through the barriers of a twelve-year-old who is entirely too cool for you. She's not into tent camping. I'll be lucky to get her out in TOW-Wanda next time I bring her. A tent would push her over the edge. Her mommy was the same way. If she couldn't plug in her curling iron, she wasn't interested. Then she went off to college and did a ten day rafting trip down the Colorado River and about blew my mind.

Since I'm taking Little camping next week, I told Big we would have a special day this weekend and do whatever she wanted. She chose to visit the Denver Aquarium. Then we went to lunch at PF Chang's and sat out on the deck overlooking the mountains. After lunch, we went to Park Meadows mall. It's the biggest mall in the Denver Metro area and we got quite a workout. We had to take a break for ice cream, of course. We did back-to-school shopping. OMGosh! I totally forgot how much fun shopping with a pre-teen girl is!

Big was at swim practice at 8:00 yesterday morning so between that and shopping and full tummies, we were pooped by 4:00 in the afternoon so we headed home. She was asleep before we hit the interstate. When we got home, there was the obligatory fashion show for her mom. Then...she melted my heart. She came and sat in my lap and cuddled for a while. So sweet. So appreciative. So grown up yet still a little girl. It was a precious, precious moment I will always cherish because they grow way too fast, don't they?

❤️

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.”
Psalm 127:3 NIV

Speak!

Fri, 15 Jul 2016 01:30:27 -0600

I just received the schedule for the International Conference on Positive Aging! I'm speaking in the very last session of the conference. I'm hoping they saved the best for last! lol I'm also hoping people aren't totally burned out and taking a nap by that time. I have a friend whose career takes him to conference after conference and he says this is a good position so I'll take him at his word.

I've been reading the bios and descriptions of the presentations at this conference. We are still six weeks away...if you have the opportunity to attend this, I would encourage you to do so. There are some pretty impressive speakers at this conference and lots of interesting subjects. I'm allowed to attend all of the sessions so I'm studying which ones I want to hear. I'm telling you...I'm pretty darned excited!

Please keep my older daughter in your prayers this morning as she has laser surgery for vision correction. Skilled and steady hands, calm and peaceful patient. She and her husband celebrate their 21st wedding anniversary today as well. Where did the time go?

❤️

“Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.””
Exodus 4:12 NIV

Mirror, Mirror...

Sat, 09 Jul 2016 01:30:16 -0600

I read this the other day. A woman's idea of hell is an off white dressing room with a harsh fluorescent light overhead. One whole wall is mirror. No, wait....make that THREE walls so you can get all kinds of good angles! And, the tiny little attendant brings you oh-so-cute outfit after oh-so-cute outfit, each a size...maybe two...too small. And she does this for, like....EVER!

I went out yesterday and tried on dresses for my high school reunion. I've had a picture in my mind of what I wanted and what it would look like on me. Let's just say, I have a very VIVID imagination. Even after losing 35 pounds, I STILL don't have the body of a much younger me. As Trainer Paul said, after I walked the Quincy Hill steps NINE times..."Ginny...I hate to burst your bubble. You may FEEL quite young at heart, but your knees are...in fact...chronologically 63 years old." And, so...apparently is my body.

Do I feel bad about it? Oh, maybe I'm a little disappointed that I wasn't more realistic in my expectations. But, you know what? I've lost weight. I'm much more toned. I look pretty darned good. Not "pretty darned good for my age" or "better than a lot of other women". That's comparing and indicates insecurity and a sense of competition, neither of which applies to me.

Other women are not my competition. We're here to lift each other up, not try to outdo each other.

But, still...dressing rooms suck!

❤️

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”
Hebrews 4:16 NIV

The Power of Song

Wed, 22 Jun 2016 01:30:52 -0600

My younger daughter has her mama's heart. Soft...tender...loving. She shared this video yesterday and it touched my heart as it did hers.

Mr. Virgo's was a snatch death. He was gone within 3-4 hours after having his heart attack. I sat with a woman in Aspen Monday who watched her husband die of leukemia. My heart ached for her loss because it seems so much harder than mine. I cannot imagine losing Mr. Virgo a minute at a time...as so many of you experienced your losses.

I went through hospice training many, many years ago. And before I could get a client, I became pregnant with my second daughter. My hormonal condition wouldn't have helped anyone so I never ended up volunteering. Hubby #2 ran the local hospice and delivered local cancer care before the hospital acquired an oncologist. I was well versed in theory, if not in actual practice.

When it is time for me to cross over, I want a threshold choir to come sing me home. What a beautiful, touching service to humanity. God bless these loving people.

Watch "Singing to the Dying" HERE.

❤️

“Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.”
Psalm 100:2 NIV

Stellar Day!

Thu, 26 May 2016 01:30:41 -0600

I got up early yesterday, put on the coffee, and started writing. I had to prepare my paperwork for the conference in DC in August. There was a bio to write and a synopsis of my talk. There was the speaker's agreement and selecting the professional head shot. And, twice when I was almost finished my keyboard would just randomly stop working. I had to do the same thing three times before I got it done right. I finally finished at 1:00 and decided it was play time. I called a couple friends and we strapped our kayaks on our respective vehicles and hit the road.

We paddled five miles. We went up the channel on the east side of Middle Island and down the Ohio side, then round the tip of the island and back up the channel to the marina. I absolutely love that paddle. The channel is fairly still and there are several places where you glide under a canopy of trees. When you come out at the uppermost point of the island, the Ohio River opens up before you in a grand way. It's stunning, as you can see in the photo. The river is really wide there and, of course, you're paddling downstream so it's nice to have that easier part during the second half. We had a great time and stopped at a little neighborhood restaurant for salad for dinner. I was pretty pooped when I got home.

Good company. Good upper body workout day. Life is beautiful, indeed!

❤️

“Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
John 1:3-5 NIV

That Girl

Fri, 20 May 2016 01:30:37 -0600

You remember her...that girl that loved to ride bikes, climb trees, catch lightning bugs. The one that fought the bath because it meant she had to stop playing and come inside. You remember...that girl that could eat anything and never gain an ounce because she played so hard all day. The one who liked to sneak a puppy or kitten into her bed when she thought no one was watching. The one who would defend her best friend's honor even if it meant she took the lumps. You remember.

Where did she go? When did we forget to ask her out to play? Why did we think we didn't need her anymore...that she was a baby, someone we'd outgrown? I was so busy raising my kids, being a wife, entertaining....I distinctly remember that day when I remembered something important that I had long since forgotten. I remember telling my ex-husband I didn't know how to play anymore. It was such a sad thing. I remember how resigned I was to the loss...as if it was perfectly normal to kill this little girl that had lived in me all those years. That's what I did you know...many of us did. We left her in the dust by the side of the road. We left her to wither up on the back shelf of our closets with the clip on skates and the croquet set. I missed her, but I didn't know how to get her back.

That's when the Sisters came into my life. I found the Sisters on the Fly very shortly after losing Mr. Virgo. It didn't take long to figure out who these women were. They were The Rescuers. They take us sorry old women and rescue the little girls inside them. And they don't take no for an answer. It's not just the Sisters. There are many Girl Camper groups out there. Facebook has lots of groups like Camp Like a Girl, Girl Camping, Mitten Kittens to name a few. And if camping isn't your thing, I'm sure there's a group out there that exactly fits you. The important thing is to step out of your comfort zone, shake things up, do something different, and find that little girl. She's in there...c'mon, let's go get her...

It's Fitness Friday...lets go outside and play!

❤️

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
John 15:12-13 NIV

Passages

Sat, 07 May 2016 01:30:12 -0600

A dear friend of mine recently experienced an unexpected change of employment. After 30 years of service to his job and his community, he was "moved" to a new position in order for someone coming up the ranks to be trained in his job. It was a devastating blow and caused emotional turmoil. Suffering this kind of loss is akin to grieving a death. Because it IS a death. The death of the life that was planned. The death of a career. The death of an identity.

I'm very proud of my friend for being proactive and making the difficult decision to go to an entirely new town where he and his wife know no one. New house. New town. New job. These are major life changes that can bring sadness. But they can also bring back long dormant waves of grief surrounding a loss from even many years ago. Being proactive and making changes will hopefully help them cope by giving them lots of things to keep them busy as they work through their feelings.

Life is so unpredictable. Jobs are lost. Health fails. Friends or family members die. Our boats can be tossed on stormy seas. And once grief has struck, it's much easier to get swept away by the churning sea. The thing to remember is, the waves may be rough now, but there will be calmer seas ahead.

❤️

“When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.”
Isaiah 43:2 NLT

Crone

Thu, 28 Apr 2016 01:30:46 -0600

The word sounds bad. But it's meaning implies a wise woman. I've become a crone...a title I wear with as much dignity and grace as I can muster. We don't get to this age without a few battle scars. And the things we've gone through are the very things we use when we reach down to help the next person up.

There was a time when my insecurities drove people away from me, which further fueled the insecurities. It wasn't until I pledged a moratorium on new relationships that I got a handle on it. I needed to learn that it is most often counter productive to "chase" people down in an attempt to spend time with them. I've learned to be the flower. All you have to do is blossom. The bees will come to you. Pretty simple, really.

❤️

“So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?””
Hebrews 13:6 NIV

Finding our Better Selves

Tue, 26 Apr 2016 01:30:46 -0600

I'm gearing up for my next birthday. I'm going to be 63 in June. Remember when 63 seemed REALLY OLD? OMGosh! It's all a matter of perspective, isn't it? We go through so many passages in life. The time between our own parenting to watching our kids parent flew by in a heartbeat. During that time, I went through many incarnations of my self. I held several jobs in different fields. I explored various religions and philosophies. I became a Christian. I was married and divorced and married and divorced and married again. And I was widowed.

One would think that surely I would have found my true self somewhere along the way with all that. But honestly, I think it took losing Mr. Virgo to send me far down deep within myself to find out who I really am...who I have become because of my grief. Here are some things I've learned. Let me know if any of these resonate with you and what things life or grief have taught you.

I am much more compassionate. I see so much more of the world's pain than I ever did before. This has made me more sensitive to the needs of others.

I am much stronger than I ever thought I was. I have lost that one person I thought I could never live without. And here I am...living.
I have an infinite well of love in my heart. Somewhere in the last year, my capacity to love and feel and open my heart again returned with a vengeance. I never would have believed I could feel love in my heart for people after losing Mr. Virgo. Yet here I am...loving everyone. My heart is wide open and I receive every bit of love that's thrown my way and turn right around and hand it off to others.

I am willing to take risks. By losing Mr. Virgo, I realized how "safe" we played things. I wouldn't say our life together was necessarily boring, but we had a pretty set routine and were comfortable with that. I live much closer to the edge now. I want to see and experience new and exciting things.

I am not exactly fearless. A certain modicum of safety consciousness is healthy. But, I no longer dread trying new things. I keep the hounds of anxiety pretty much chained in the back recesses of my mind instead of running rampant. Nothing much scares me anymore.

I have a deep, lasting, personal relationship with God and I find great comfort in that. I have discovered the joys of knowing and trusting Jesus as I learn from His teachings. I have learned to trust the whispers from the Holy Spirit as it guides me through my daily living.

I have learned forgiveness. I no longer take the bitter poison of anger and resentment. I have learned that hurts no one but me. I've also learned to forgive myself for being a fallible human.

I think the biggest thing I've learned is to be grateful in all things. While there was never a day that Mr. Virgo and I missed an opportunity to express our gratitude to one another, it took losing him to really appreciate all I had with him here. Now, I am particularly careful to let those I love know I love them and how important they are to me. Because, WE know. Those who have lost know just how tenuous that thread of life really is.

These are the things I've learned. And life goes on.

❤️

“Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you—unless, of course, you fail the test?”
2 Corinthians 13:5 NIV

Looking for Mr. Virgo

Tue, 19 Apr 2016 01:30:43 -0600

I've tried my hand at dating. Sometimes we get the opportunity to see someone, some time after a failed attempt at coupling and sit in awe at the personal growth we've made due to the experience. And scratch our head and wonder, "What was I thinking?" Sometimes perfectly nice people come into our lives and God shuts the door on them for a reason. The lesson I've learned is "Don't try to pick the lock."

After my last attempt a year ago, I've changed course. I backed off completely. I won't rule out that there just might be someone out there for me, but God is going to have to throw him down in my lap if He wants me to be in a romantic relationship.

Relationship. That's such a funny word, really. After all, you are in a relationship with everyone you interact with on a regular basis. I have many relationships. I have several very close, personal relationships. With both men and women. My gentlemen friends would do anything for me. They are wonderful dinner companions. They bring the muscle when I need it. They'll take me out to dinner...anywhere, any time. They'll give me a hug if I want one. And then he or I go home and there's no complications. It's just easier that way. I have far too many obligations at the moment to take on another project.

A year ago, if I had a date, I would have put on my most charming face and been eager to know and be known...whether he was my type or not. I was a chameleon...and quite needy. I'm much more centered now. There is no comparing one man to another. I love my gentleman friends dearly. And I'm not really looking for Mr. Virgo anymore. Now, I just look at their hearts...and love them for who they are and what they bring to my life. But as far as dating is concerned? Nah...I'll tend to my knitting, as my Grandma used to say.

❤️

“So I say to those who aren’t married and to widows—it’s better to stay unmarried, just as I am. But if they can’t control themselves, they should go ahead and marry. It’s better to marry than to burn with lust.”
1 Corinthians 7:8-9 NLT

A Grandmother's Hands

Sat, 16 Apr 2016 01:30:00 -0600

Grandma's hands were a particular fixation of mine. I would hold her wise and wonderful hands in mine and I can remember watching them become more and more similar as I myself aged. Hers were remarkably soft considering all the hard work she did with them. From digging potatoes to scrubbing on a washboard, I never recall her using creams and lotions save for the occasional swipe of Bag Balm before quilting.

I remember the quick dip of her index finger into whatever she was mixing up, gauging by taste alone whether the cake would rise or fall. I remember the beat up lid of an oval roaster she turned over in her lap to hold the beans she snapped or the potatoes she peeled for our supper. I remember her dipping her hand in a bag of lime or Sevin to dust her garden as I worried for her safety. She held babies and wiped away tears. She made jelly bread for me every time I walked in the door. She folded them in prayer every day and tied a shiny dime in the corner of our hanky every Sunday for the offering plate. She held the hand of her greatest love and life partner as they watched the news together every evening. She worked the pages of her Bible as she sat vigil beside his coffin in the living room of the old farmhouse after he passed, wiping her own tears when she thought no one was looking.

I remember the last fold over apple pie she baked for me, expertly rolling out her pie dough she always claimed wasn't fit to eat but I would die for to this day. But I think my fondest memory of Grandma's hands were the summer I was five. She carefully took the stitches out of some feed sacks and made us matching aprons. I was SO proud as I stood on the red enamel kitchen stool and she tied mine in the back. I couldn't see her hands, but I felt them as they brushed my back making quick work of the task. She turned me to face her, cupped my face in those wise and wonderful hands, and kissed me on both cheeks and my world was complete. The person I loved most in this world loved me like I was the only one.

I miss those hands. Someday they'll brush my face again. Someday.

❤️

““But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen. Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”
Deuteronomy 4:9 NLT

Photo Credit: Unknown...it's a gem from Facebook I borrowed, but if you know who took it, please tell me so I can give credit where credit is due.

Burning the Candle

Wed, 06 Apr 2016 01:30:59 -0600

It was a long day yesterday working on the website and today will be even longer. There was a gentleman sitting at our table at Starbucks where we were working. He overheard our conversation and was asking me questions about what I'm doing. He was interested in my writing. He kept laughing when my "media consultant" aka Hubby #1 and I bantered back and forth with that old familiarity divorced people can sometimes achieve. I introduced myself...and my ex. He stopped and said, "Your ex? I wish my ex and I could get along like that!"

I hear that a lot. "How can you be friends with your ex???" Well, first of all, neither of my exes ever did anything so egregious that it couldn't be forgiven. Second, I wasn't the perfect princess in either one of the marriages that ended in divorce. I was a much better wife the third time around. I had learned a lot in those first two marriages.

We are just people. We are fallible. We make mistakes. Sometimes they're great big ones that cause lasting damage. Sometimes people and situations just...change. What good does it do to carry all that anger and hatred with you to the grave? I know, I know...it isn't easy. No, it is not. But I'm here to tell you it's doable and being nice to each other and treating each other with respect is what we do to all humans. And almost all exes are human.

When ex-Hubby #2 had a new girlfriend.....oooooooh, I hated her. I was so angry, and hurt, and rejected. My heart was broken. But the Rabbi spoke at High Holy Days and said, "It is not enough to ask for God's forgiveness. You must ask the forgiveness of those you sinned against." I thought about this the whole day and finally realized there was no getting around it. I called his girlfriend up, told her who I was...and asked for her forgiveness. I explained the significance of the day and told her I had spoken ill of her in the year before and I needed to ask for her forgiveness. After that, whenever she and my ex came into my mind, instead of feeling hurt and angry, I sent them love and light. I asked God to bless them with abundant love and happiness. They went on to marry and they are truly happy together. This freed me.

Both of my exes have extraordinarily wonderful wives. They married well. They are good, strong women. They are kind and loving. They have great kids. We treat each other with love and respect. With time, effort, and love for our children, we have created a large extended family that gets together for special family events. There's never any fighting. Never a cross word. I love them all.

Forgiveness goes a long way toward getting the life of peace you long for. Is there someone you need to forgive? Anger and resentment are the poison you take hoping that the other person falls ill. Isn't it time to free yourself from all that angst, pain and drama?

❤️

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
Matthew 5:9 NIV

Strive to Thrive

Mon, 07 Mar 2016 02:30:58 -0600

A friend of mine is struggling with the waves of grief again. It's been four years. Doesn't matter. Grief works that way sometimes. You can be fine...really fine for long stretches of time. And then something smacks you in the forehead and you remember that piece of your brokenness that you placed in an iron box. Grief drags you over by the ear and forces you to look at it again. Try as you might, you can't turn away. As hard as it is to go through it yourself, it's just as hard to watch a friend standing in the fire and know you can only stand there with the salve to bandage the burns after Grief has had her way.

I was relating this to someone and they said it sounded like someone else they knew...meaning me. That has given me pause. I had to ask myself if I am stuck in my grief. I mean, I can see how it might look that way from the outside. I honestly don't believe I am. I don't sit at home and cry. I live with hope. I'm not depressed. But I do talk about grief...a lot. This blog is my ministry. I write about my experiences with grief. I write about my relationship with Mr. Virgo as well as my loss. I write about my feelings which sometimes includes those directly related to grief. My blog is my story. My books are my story. I am NOT my story. And as I head into this last week before the third angelversary, I'm going to explore that with you.

I've had a paradigm shift this week. And I have made a decision. The first year was the "Year of the Great Fog". The second was "The Year of Diminishing Pain" because the fog had lifted. The third was the "Year of Blessed Relief" because I could finally breathe and explore my personal and spiritual growth. I've decided the fourth will be the "Year to Thrive". I'm awake. But, oh my gosh! I have looked at myself in the mirror. I love who I see, for the most part. A confident, younger-looking, wise woman with a heart full of love and positive energy. That being said, my conditioning and diet have really fallen by the wayside. I have a lot of exciting opportunities being presented to me. I want to have the energy and stamina to get out there and really enjoy the next couple of decades. I'm not going to be able to participate like I want to unless I get in better shape.

I started working with a personal trainer this week and I'm going to incorporate my work with him here in a weekly update..."Fitness Friday". I need the accountability and it gives me more to talk about than just my loss. Don't worry...I'm not going to preach at you. I'm a Documentarian! I don't preach...I bring you into my world and show you what it's like to live here.

❤️

“Souls who follow their hearts thrive; fools bent on evil despise matters of soul.”
Proverbs 13:19 MSG

The Granny Girls

Sun, 31 Jan 2016 02:30:34 -0600

We're 18. The only problem is, you can't see that 18 year old because she's stuck inside this 62 year old body. She's in there...though I have to admit, there are days when she does a darned good job of hiding. And...speaking of hiding, she's got a wicked sense of humor because she's always hiding things from me. She's particularly fond of hiding my glasses and my car keys, although she HAS been known to hide the whole danged CAR from me after I've taken her on one of her favorite outings....shopping at the mall. Oh, she LOVES that! She keeps trying to squeeze my butt into HER size jeans and that either makes me laugh or makes me cry or pisses me off. It depends where we are with our hormones. Sigh.

We like to go hang out with our girlfriends. You can just about guarantee she's going to show up at that event. She's so funny. She snorts when she laughs and doesn't care that it makes me pee a little. She loves to tell stories and make her friends laugh till THEY pee a little, too! We promise each other we'll always be there...just like we did 45 years ago.

Just look at these beautiful eighteen year olds! They're so wise and wonderful. Sassy and sensuous. Silly and brilliant and adventurous. Loving and loyal and so full of life. It was a perfect day. Lord, let us stay just like this...for as long as we can. Oh, our knees ache a little, and maybe some of us need hearing aids, and Lynn had a heart attack and Rhonda's not recovered from her last surgery so she couldn't come....but, please Lord, let us be 18 as long as we can. Just look at us! We're perfect!!!

❤️

“So then, banish anxiety from your heart and cast off the troubles of your body, for youth and vigor are meaningless.”
Ecclesiastes 11:10 NIV

No Greater Love

Wed, 25 Nov 2015 02:30:52 -0600

I've known this man for forty years. We've drifted in and out of contact over the years but I always catch up with him when the annual newsy Christmas letter arrives.

Lionel and I share a birthday and rarely miss a call, e-mail, or text wishing each other well. One year he called all excited and told me I'd never guess what his wife gave him for his birthday. After several guesses, he gleefully exclaimed his only son had arrived on his birthday! He was beside himself with pride and joy. It wasn't long before two beautiful daughters completed their family.

It was interesting how parallel our lives ran. We both married medical students in their first year of training. He was a stay-at-home dad. I was a stay-at-home mom. We compared notes and parenting tips. We even exchanged recipes, if memory serves. He went on to be a nursing home administrator then eventually settled in as his wife's medical practice manager.

After they became empty-nesters and he had survived three bouts of cancer, Lionel felt a calling. He became a youth minister and eventually was ordained this past weekend as a priest. Here, he blesses his lovely wife, Kathy. It is a beautifully poignant moment that radiates pure love.
I tell you this story because it illustrates we are never too old to be obedient to God and change paths completely for Him. We are never too old to challenge ourselves and step out of our comfortable lives to do something different. We are never too old to give back.

In this week of Thanksgiving, I hope we are all grateful for that still, small voice that speaks to us. And, that we are all grateful for those lifelong relationships that stay with us, no matter the time or distance that separate us.

Congratulations to you and your family, Lionel. I am so happy for you and admire you greatly.

❤️

“And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.”
1 Kings 19:12 KJV

Love...and Chocolate

Sat, 21 Nov 2015 02:30:00 -0600

Last night, I met several of my cousins for dinner at a pretty good Italian place. They had the best cheese bread I've ever eaten in my life! There was a bittersweet purpose in our gathering. My cousin Tommy has mesothelioma. He's doing great. He's having chemo and it is giving him some wonderful time to share with his family and friends. We are all so grateful to have him here.

Tommy is 12 years older than me. I was just a little, little girl when he came home from the Navy in his whites and I fell in love! Oh...he was breathtakingly handsome! And he was still young enough to have an emotional bond with this little tow headed kid who followed him around like a moonsick puppy.

His wife knows...everyone knows. Any gathering could be the last gathering. And they're so brave...and so loving...and so present...and so real. What do you say to someone who you know will walk your path? How do you prepare her? Of course, the answer is...you can't, not really. There is only one thing to do...keep things as normal and upbeat as you can...for Tommy. And...there is only one thing you can say. My heart is with you.

I stopped for chocolates on my way to the restaurant, forgetting it was Suzy who likes chocolate...not Tommy. So, Suzy got the candy and Tommy got lots of lovin' from this grown up little toe-headed kid that would still follow him around like a moonsick pup. My heart is with them.

❤️

““Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.””
John 14:1-4 NIV

Into the Sunset

Tue, 10 Nov 2015 02:30:04 -0600

I remember watching the old westerns on Saturday afternoon when the cowboy always got the girl. They'd ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. I wanted my cowboy. I've loved some great men. I've been blessed with an epic romance the likes of which could rival any you'd see on the big screen.

I love this picture of Former President Carter and his wife. I watched my grandparents hold hands like this. I was supposed to have this. And, who knows, I may still. Or, maybe this isn't what God has planned for me. I don't know. But I do know this. If you cannot let go of the life you had planned, there will be no room for the good things to come.

It's probably the time change and facing winter that has me struggling with this. I find myself wanting to huddle with married couples I meet on the street and say, "Listen up! You have no idea what it's like when your partner dies. Treat each other with respect and love. Look at your partner with awe. You HAVE someone! Honor that!" Instead, I smile when I see them like the Carters here. And I pray they get all the love in they can before it's done.

❤️

“In the same way, you who are younger, submit yourselves to your elders. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.””
1 Peter 5:5 NIV

On Aging

Fri, 06 Nov 2015 02:30:10 -0600

I've been old twice. The first time was when my second marriage was failing and I couldn't stem its inevitable demise. I was ancient at 46. The second time was when I suddenly became a widow at 59. I was too old to be single and too young to be old.

I sank into grief. I wandered down the dark hallways of my mind...wondering if I'd ever find myself again. Would I ever feel joy? Would I ever laugh? Would I ever feel like...me? Eventually...little by little...the fog lifted and I caught glimpses of her...that carefree girl who threw her head back and laughed large. That wonderful, wacky woman who saw the fun in everything. She was in there. I just had to coax her out...like a stray cat who has gone too many years without the kind touch of humanity.

I joined a band of women. A Sisterhood. A group of fellow travelers on the same journey I was on. We encourage each other. We love each other. We honor the strength we see in each other. We teach each other how to fly. And we laugh and laugh and laugh. And something miraculous is happening...I am becoming that girl that I longed for once again. I am coming full circle.

The other morning, I was lying in bed and I raised my arms up to look at them. Imagine my surprise when I saw my mother's arms instead of mine! How did that happen? Where did these wrinkles come from? Am I old? I took a careful inventory and discovered, indeed...I am not. I am experienced. I am worldly. I am wise. I am broken in, not broken down. Like a great pair of cowboy boots, my skin has stretched to cover the fullness of my being. I have lived...I have loved...I have lost...I have learned. And until I leave...I'm just going to love every little square inch of my beautiful, bodacious, badass self...wrinkles and all!

I have found the Fountain of Youth. It is between my ears.

❤️

“Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone.”
Psalm 71:9 NIV

Harvest Time

Mon, 21 Sep 2015 01:30:43 -0600

This is the season of richness. An abundant harvest is the reward for many hours invested during the summer months. Autumn is a beautiful time of year anywhere, but especially in the east. I just spent three great days with three great gals...all camping women. And we spent those days encouraging women to go places and do things. By encouraging others, we ourselves were given a boost in our own enthusiasm for traveling in our campers.

I shared my story of losing Mr. Virgo to a sudden heart attack while looking at a camper to buy for retirement fun. People were amazed that I live in my camper full time....alone. There were so many women there in the autumn of life who were searching for something. Freedom. Adventure. Excitement. Change. Encouragement. Empowerment. Permission. Joy. To see their eyes light up when they saw the campers. To see them get the affirmation they needed when they saw this curvy, 60-something, very hip Nana who pulls a 30' camper all by herself. To see them realize they can be GIRLS again. That was priceless. That is their reward for tending the gardens of their lives through the growing years. Now it's time to reap a little fun out of life.

❤️

"You crown the year with your bounty, and your carts overflow with abundance. The grasslands of the wilderness overflow; the hills are clothed with gladness. The meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are mantled with grain; they shout for joy and sing."
Psalm 65:11-13

Laying Low

Sun, 06 Sep 2015 01:30:54 -0600

Well, sort of. Dinner with friends and live music Friday night then a gabfest with a friend till the wee hours. Coffee with the girls yesterday morning and dinner out with a friend last night. With several naps in between. I feel like this guy....I need to stretch out and snooze! No chance for a few days at least. I have family to visit, work to have done on my camper, and all manner of errands getting settled back in.

While I am certainly tired from traveling...I'm not tired OF traveling. There's still so much to see! I want to catch the leaves changing this fall. Then there's a trip to the beach the first week of October. I feel more alive and awake and present than I ever have. I made it a point on the Black Hills trip to put my phone away...at least most of the time. I checked briefly at breakfast and at dinner. It's amazing how addictive it is. We didn't know what time it was or how to dress for the weather.

For Pete's sake...what on earth did we do before the Internet? How did we ever survive? How did we parent? How would I have seen the blue and green streaks my oldest grandchild got in her hair this morning? It was so peaceful to stay present and connected to the life going on around me. Now, I need to continue that.

❤️

"When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet."
Proverbs 3:24

The Girls

Fri, 21 Aug 2015 01:30:50 -0600

When I was in Glenwood Springs this week, I met "The Girls" for coffee. This particular group of women have been meeting every Thursday for 30+ years. I joined them 15 years ago. They had their babies together, raised them, married them off, and became grandmothers over coffee and conversation. I sat back and listened as they discussed the upcoming marriage of yet another child. This particular daughter joined us. My oldest used to babysit for her and now she's a doctor. Time. What a slippery thing it is.

After coffee, I joined another group of "Girls". This one is a knitting group that meets in the home of my beautiful "other mother" to bring her some sunshine. She can't get out like she used to. Here, she shows us her grandmother's postage stamp quilt. Women. Beautiful, strong women who have lived beautiful lives. They were very excited by the kayak on top of the truck. As I left, they called out cheerily, "Enjoy your adventures!" I love that.
As I march steadily on the path between these two age groups I realize how blessed I am. And I wanted to thank someone special. I stopped in to the alternative high school. This haven saved my younger daughter's life when she was bullied in high school. She never really fit in the mainstream and kids can be cruel. Sonja was her saving grace, her champion, her mentor. It was to Sonja that I gifted Mr. Virgo's guitar and amp. I wanted to see her bright, shiny smile and tell her I love her.

Women. We are fragile yet strong, fallible yet indestructible. I am so proud of these women and happy to have them in my life.

❤️

"Lord our God, all this abundance that we have provided for building you a temple for your Holy Name comes from your hand, and all of it belongs to you."
1 Chronicles 29:16

Travel. ie...Home is Where I Park It

Thu, 13 Aug 2015 01:30:42 -0600

I have several RV pages that I follow here on FB. Some are about decorating your trailer. Others are helpful tips for the care and maintenance of your home on wheels. Some are for girl campers and glamping and vintage campers. I read a heartbreaking account on one of them yesterday. A gentleman had been full timing with his wife for nine years. They came home from a trip and she left him a note saying she was leaving and don't contact her. Then he subsequently learned she had passed away. He is trying to carry on the lifestyle, but feels like something is missing. It's just not as fun when you're alone. He is contemplating selling his motorhome when he gets home from this trip. I felt compelled to respond and tell him my story. I encouraged him to hang onto the motorhome and get out there and meet people. To give himself time to heal a little before he chucks it all.

I totally get where he's coming from. I have lived part time for a year and a half and full time for the last year in my little home on wheels. I love it. I love the freedom and portability. I love the low cost life it affords me. I love the flexibility the lifestyle offers. I don't mind going places alone. I'm not afraid to travel alone. But, more and more lately, I find myself wishing I could share that view with someone special. I wish I had someone to talk to over the campfire or someone to look at the atlas and say, "Hey...let's go there!" It's coming. I can feel it. But it's not here yet.

We travel...not to escape life, but for life not to escape us. We travel to learn...to grow...to experience...to breathe...to live. I may not have much in the form of money or worldly goods, but my life is enriched by every experience, every new vista, and every new face I meet along the highways and byways of this beautiful land. I am wealthy beyond all expectations!

❤️

"Do two walk together unless they have agreed to do so?"
Amos 3:3

Pickleball!

Sat, 25 Jul 2015 01:30:42 -0600

It's all the rage! It's the fastest growing sport in America. Played with a paddle and what resembles a wiffle ball on a court half the size of a tennis court, it's catching on with seniors as a way to stay fit and have fun. Socialization is as much a part of Pickleball as the rules of the game. And it's much easier on your body than say, tennis or racquetball.

Arvada, Colorado is home to the best Pickleball facility in the state. I took my first lesson yesterday and it was SO much fun! I loved that my instructor was a 65 year old retired elementary school PE teacher. She was FIT! She had me glowing in pretty short order. And remember, I don't exercise…I play.

I am expanding my skills. I want to do things that I can participate in anywhere. No matter where you go, there's likely a body of water to kayak on, a path to bike on, and a Pickleball court to play on. The more skills you have, the more active you are, the healthier you are, the more socialization you can achieve and that's extremely healthy….mentally and physically. This is definitely my sport and I can't wait to get out there and do it again.

Check out the USA Pickleball Association for the rules of the game and a list of places to play.

❤

"…my cup overflows."
Psalm 23:5

The Front Row

Thu, 16 Jul 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Gone are the days when I've relegated myself to the third row. I don't regret anything I've done in my life because every step I made turned me into who I am today. But I do have some wishes. I wish I would have taken more chances, made more mud pies, rode more roller coasters. I wish I would have listened to that doctor and gone to medical school. I wish I wouldn't have tried so hard to fit square pegs into round holes. I wish I wouldn't have been so afraid.

I told Mr. Virgo once that I wish I would have met him in my 30's. He said, "No, you don't. You wouldn't have liked who I was then." And, he's probably right because I don't think he would have liked the 30-year-old version of me, either. There's a reason we met when we did…it was the right time.

I had dinner last night with one of his cousins and her husband. We had never met in person. I'm not even sure we have ever spoken on the phone, but we have been Facebook friends since Mr. Virgo died. They were traveling through Denver and asked me to dinner. As I sat in the car waiting to go in, I found myself getting a bit emotional. I didn't know many members of Mr. Virgo's family and this was a blood relative so it seemed special…this physical connection. We laughed and told stories and I learned more about people he had spoken of. I had a great time and I'm really glad I went.

Yes, gone are the days of third row seating. You'll find me up front from now on.

❤

"Then Laban said to him, “You are my own flesh and blood.”…
Genesis 29:14

Storms

Sat, 11 Jul 2015 01:30:00 -0600

There are a lot of storms in life. You would be hard pressed to find anyone who could honestly say they had been untouched by calamity. Some people suffer storm after storm and never seem to catch a break. Others are ducks bobbing in a pond and nothing seems to touch them. But you simply cannot weather the storm of grief without coming out the other side a changed person (not that there IS an "other side"…it's more a case of the clouds parting…for longer and longer intervals.)

Just as in nature, lightning flashes, thunder crashes, and grief rains all over you….soaking you to the skin. You get washed away in the rising flood with regularity until you learn to take your boots and your raincoat and your umbrella. And maybe a boat. It takes a long time for you to remember you even HAVE those things. In most cases, you have to find new ones because the old ones don't work anymore.

I was looking through my phone yesterday and came across my favorite picture of Mr. Virgo. There was a time when that would have started an uncontrollable storm the likes of which I was hard pressed to survive. But, little by little, I have gathered my rain gear about me and discovered I'm a pretty hardy sailor when put out to sea. Yesterday, I looked at that picture and smiled and thought to myself, "He's forever 62!" He'll never suffer the infirmities of age. He'll never have the humiliation of that colonoscopy he so dreaded. He'll never have a diagnosis of cancer or Alzheimer's. He'll never be maimed in an accident. He'll never be relegated to a wheelchair or a nursing home. No, Mr. Virgo went out at the top of his game. He was well loved, both personally and professionally. He accomplished so much in his life and had seen incredible places. He met amazing people. He parented two beautiful daughters and step-parented mine and those of his second wife. He was a Papa to my grandchildren. He had been married to two other strong, wonderful women. And he married me. He adored me. ME! Imagine that!

Really….what more could a person ask for in life? More time? Of course. But we made very good use of the time we were given. We certainly didn't waste one moment of it arguing…ever. And now…I can dance in the rain, splash in the puddles, and remember a beautiful love story.

And…I can smile.

❤

"God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; he does great things beyond our understanding. He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’ So that everyone he has made may know his work, he stops all people from their labor."
Job 37:5-7

Remembering the Grand Adventure

Mon, 22 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I took this photo a couple of years ago on the first leg of my Grand Adventure. I went on a long drive yesterday afternoon up by the ski area and the lupine looked just the same as this. I love them! They are airy and misty lavender-blue. I cannot believe how green it is in the high country right now. I was told Colorado has had ten inches of rain this spring. If it continues, it will look much like back east. But if it dries out, as it is likely to do soon, we could be in for a heck of a fire season due to the incredible amount of underbrush that has developed. We went from cool and rainy last week to 93 degrees and bone dry the last three days. It will dry out fast if that keeps up. In the meantime it was a beautiful weekend!

I had a deep awakening yesterday. I love it when someone who knows me well points out the obvious flaws in my logic that I simply do not see. Such was the case with yesterday's post. A friend of mine who is wont to shake me by the scruff of the neck, did just that. I have, on more than one occasion, spoken of my "failure as a doctor's wife"…as if it were some kind of job I had applied for and had the skills but just didn't complete it successfully.

I have always looked at that as a role I played instead of just being married to someone who happened to be a doctor. His job. Not mine. Being a doctor's wife was never my "job" so how could I fail at it? As my friend points out so eloquently, I was "never responsible for his approval or his happiness" so how could I be a failure? Wow…..just, wow.

I am quick to tell others, including my children, that we are not responsible for anyone's happiness but our own. Yet, here I am…fifteen years after the fact…considering myself a failure at something I had no control over. I have carried the belief (however deeply it was buried) that I did not make my husband happy so he left me for someone else. I convinced myself, and subsequently tried to convince YOU, that I failed as a "Doctor's Wife" as if there was a certain skill set I should have had in place and didn't. How liberating! I can let go of that belief. I'm free of the lingering self-recrimination that came with that falsehood. I love, love, LOVE when another layer gets peeled back and I can "clean house" inside!

The new belief is "At one time, we loved each other deeply then we grew apart. We each found true love with someone else." Period. No judgements. Wow.

❤

"The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding."
Proverbs 4:7

Glory Days

Tue, 16 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I went to a movie with my kids and grandkids on my birthday. While ordering the tickets at the window, my daughter asked for two adults, two kids, and a senior citizen. My head whipped around and she stared at me with a look that said "Uh-oh….she just realized she's old!" Instead, I broke into a HUGE smile and started clapping. "You mean I get a senior discount now??? Score!!!", pumping my fist in the air. She looked around to see if people were giving her pitiful glances because her mom was doing the Happy Dance in the theater lobby. Do I get a discount on that overpriced popcorn, too? I dunno…I forgot to ask. I was just so darned excited at all the possible discounts I can receive now. And girl, I'm gonna WORK that! lol

I received a friend request yesterday on my personal page. It was from someone I have known since 1986. She and I were very close. Our kids were best friends in school. When things went south in my second marriage and I nearly died of an overdose, our friendship was affected. As can be the case in many divorces, lines of loyalty were drawn in the sand and I lost out in the equation. It's been 15 years and we have only spoken once. I have to admit, I sat there staring at her name in wonder. Why? Why now? How will this affect me? What does this mean? It didn't take me long, however, to remember the story of the prodigal son and I hit "accept". I posted on her page and told her how touched I was to receive a friend request from her. I commented on her post from the day before as she mentioned it would have been her 46th wedding anniversary that day. I told her I understood. I told her how, for me, grief is like walking through tall grass and stepping on a rake. The handle comes up and smacks you right between the eyes. And you never, ever know where that rake is or when the next step will trigger it. I told her how I admired her grace and poise and that I held a special place in my heart for her and her family all these years.

There are those who would have been offended by the friend request. There are those who would have said, "Screw her! She wasn't there for you when you needed her the most!" But you know what? I wasn't there for her either. She was angry. She was hurt. She was afraid for us all. When something like divorce and depression and overdoses hit friendships, it's often too close to home and people run away to protect themselves. They run away because they don't know what to say. It's too hard to love both parties so they choose sides. That's human nature. But the bottom line is this. I am a totally different woman than I was when she knew me. And so is she. A lot of time has passed. For me, I prefer to embrace the healing this will offer. There has been a sad spot in my heart since she left my life…a spot only she could fill. Last night, that spot got filled back in because I was offered an opportunity to practice grace. These ARE the glory days. These are the days we will look back upon and remember. I wish to remember that I did good things…that I stepped up to the plate…that I overlooked the slight of a friend, no matter how long it was, and that I was able to comfort her in her time of need. This was as much a gift to myself as it was to her. This is a beautiful thing.

❤

"The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more."
Psalm 103:15-16

Forever Young

Mon, 08 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I'm celebrating my birthday week. Well…MONTH really, but I don't want to sound greedy. I'm about to celebrate my 62nd trip around the sun. Sixty-two is NOT old. Not to ME. What does 62 feel like, anyway? What does it look like? Am I supposed to take naps and buy sensible shoes? Am I supposed to color my hair and wear purple? When my kids look askance at my fringed biker-chick bag, I tell them fringe is in…leave me alone.

Boomers changed the world. And we're changing it again as we retire. We're downsizing and traveling. We're playing pickleball and buying kayaks. We're thumbing our noses at the same establishment we have since the Sixties. We're telling "The Man" that we can't be defined by a number. We're telling our kids we have lives to live, places to see, things to do. We invented the bucket list. We are a force to be reckoned with and we won't sit down and shut up! There's power in numbers, people. Don't sit down and wait to die. Any of us could go this afternoon…or 40 years from now. I don't know about you, but I'm going to wring this thing dry. I want to be remembered as that wild, wonderful woman who lived every…single…day. I want to suck the marrow from the bone. I want to use up every single resource…every single cell…every ounce of strength God has gifted me with.

And I'm going out au naturale. I will never color my hair again. I will never have plastic surgery or liposuction or Botox. I will never have acrylic nails again. I seldom, if ever, wear makeup. I'm curvy and real. My body bears the symbols of motherhood and grandmotherhood. I'm soft and juicy and rich and raw. I'm brassy and loud. And…I'm in love with life.

Let's celebrate our age! I know there are many who suffer illness as we get older. Even with that, we can find some small thing to celebrate if we look hard enough. Sixty is the new forty…OLD is the new YOUNG!

❤

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"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness."
Proverbs 16:31

And...it Begins!

Fri, 29 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

TOW-Wanda & Free-Da, the Ford...ready to hit the road!
Camping at Nelsonville Music Festival
Live Music
Live Music at Night!

What a treasure it is to gather with a large variety of humans seeking the same goal. Four days of peace, music, and fun in the sun! The vibe is good...mellow. Reminiscent of the early outdoor concerts of the '60s. Aging hippies getting their groove on. Middle aged couples trying to recover a part of the dream. Days when they were filled with love and promise. Days before the pressures of life took away their ability to play. So here, they don their tie dye and walk barefoot, holding hands with hopeful love. And with the right portion of sun, sound, and sensual dancing, sparks are igniting the embers of a long, too cold winter. And it's summer!!! Young people smelling like patchouli and herbal refreshments, dreads, flowing gauzy skirts dancing with that sheer freedom youth allows. Little ones running around blowing bubbles and chasing balloons.

A music festival thrusts you into a melting pot of humanity. It is an excellent opportunity to throw off that coat of conformity and allow you to fly...to allow you to be YOU!

It just doesn't get much better than that. Celebrate life!

❤

"David and all Israel were celebrating with all their might before the Lord, with castanets, harps, lyres, timbrels, sistrums and cymbals."
2 Samuel 6:5

Capable

Sun, 24 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I'm counting down the days to lift off. My list is long. I have one, maybe two trips left out to the farm. Yet, I'm still finding time to play. I'm fitting in some kayaking this morning. Visiting with a friend in the afternoon. Cookout in the evening. SO much to do in the next few days and I'm feeling confident and capable.

There was a time in my life when I wasn't capable of doing much of anything. If you had to come up with something good to say about my abilities back then, you might have said something like, "Well, she breathed in and out all day without too much trouble." In the depth of my depression sixteen years ago, I wasn't capable of accomplishing much on a daily basis. Couple that with myriad medications and I was just going through the motions. I call those the Prozac years. I don't remember much of my forties.

By the time I met Mr. Virgo, I had been off all meds for five years and was a totally different person. Yet still I didn't feel terribly self confident about my place in the world. I deferred a lot of my abilities to my husband. He was so adept at everything. I didn't have to worry my pretty little head about much of anything. Then he up and died on me and left me to figure this all out on my own.

Something instinctively told me I had to travel solo to find myself. There was no one else to rely on. No one to hold me in the dark of night. Not in the physical plane, anyway. I always have God with me. And He gives me the strength to face the days…and nights…on my own. He gives me discernment. I have discovered that, with God…I truly CAN do anything. I am capable. I am strong. I am brave even when I sometimes don't feel I am.

There is no way you can travel alone and not discover how capable you truly are. It is the deepest gift you can give yourself.

❤

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes."
Ephesians 6:10-11

From My Mother's Hands

Sat, 23 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

My mother was quite handy with a needle. She was a perfectionist. Her embroidery was tiny, intricate, and perfect. She used to drive me crazy when she sewed clothes. She basted every seam and ripped stitches out for the smallest mistakes that only her eyes could see.

When Mom was expecting my older brother, she embroidered some quilt squares with the state birds and flowers. She only did 45 or 46 of them. Then life got busy with babies and a sad, disappointing marriage and the squares got wrapped in tissue and tucked into the cedar chest. I found them 35 years later on a trip home and asked if I could have them to make a quilt. I knew nothing about quilting but I read Mother Earth News and fancied myself as some sort of earth mother. I gardened, baked my own bread, made yogurt and tofu by hand, and rode horses every afternoon in the summer and skied in the winter. I rocked in front of the fire in my log house in the Rockies and pieced my first quilt. By the time I got about a third done quilting it, I had a baby and in typical Gemini fashion, never went back to it.

At the beginning of this year when my living situation changed, my high school friend Ginny called me up and offered her home to me while she was away in Wyoming with her kids. Her apartment is located over her quilt shop in a two story brick Victorian. Ginny does long-arm quilting so I saw my opportunity to get this quilt finished. She carefully took out all my terribly uneven stitches, replacing the horrible puffy polyester batting, and came up with the perfect floral fabric for the backing. I went over yesterday and picked it up. And here it is…Mama's Quilt.

Sixty-four years in the making. Stitched in West Virginia, toted to Colorado to be lovingly pieced together, dragged to different houses, stuffed in various closets, and…finally, toted BACK across the country only to be finished in Ohio by my high school friend. Around, around, around…a quilt is born.

And Mama smiles.

❤

"a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,".
Ecclesiastes 3:7

Good Vibes

Fri, 01 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I can always tell when my vibe is on the wrong frequency by who is coming into my life. I sincerely believe we attract the kind of energy we put out. I look at the people coming into my life lens and they invariably tell me where my brain is. When I'm in this really great space, I get these really great people who show up with cool energy that syncs with mine. When I'm off, or thinking negatively about someone or something, I can just about count on someone crotchety crossing my path. I mean, it's not always that way, but enough to see a pattern. Then there's days like today that make you scratch your head.

I went out to the farm to pick up a truckload of stuff to take to my cousin. My aunt was as sweet as pie. She was expecting company for lunch so she was in a happy, chatty mood. The last time I was there, she told me to take the stuff off the back porch because she had put my food out there. I assumed she meant the canned goods from the pantry that I had bought so I wasn't too concerned with it being there another week or so because my truck was full. Today, I took the stuff off the porch and put it in my truck but I didn't see any food. Then I noticed my cooler was heavy so I opened it and nearly died. When I moved away from the farm and came to town at Christmas, I had chicken salad and yogurt in the fridge. My aunt left it in the fridge till two weeks ago when she put it in my cooler out on the back porch…in 80 degree weather! OMGosh! I'm not sure what karma I'm playing out, but that was pretty gross.

I can't quite figure out if I'm dealing with dementia here or a just plain mean spirit. Either way, the results are the same and it's disheartening. I pray for her, I wish her well, and I hope she gets the help she needs sooner rather than later. And, I'm getting my stuff out as fast as I can. There is nothing else I can do for her at this point.

Addendum: I debated back and forth with myself for hours after writing this post. I wasn't sure I should talk about my elders in such a way. I'm not trying to garner sympathy either. I have family members who read my posts and I would never want to alienate them by speaking ill of my aunt. I love her. I truly do. This was just a really difficult situation for both of us. A friend if mine points out things might have been a little better had I arrived in spring instead of the onset of winter where we were thrust together in close quarters. I posit that one cannot truly know another when your only contact is as a guest on vacation. Whatever the reason, no matter the outcome, I mean no disrespect to my aunt or those who care about her.

❤

"Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory."
2 Timothy 2:10

To Date or Not to Date?

Sat, 18 Apr 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Who can possibly fill these shoes? This is a topic I've tap danced around some. I've dallied a little in the dating department. I've met a couple of wonderful men…men that I love dearly and consider to be close friends. I can call them day or night for company or conversation. So why don't I find myself feeling the kind of love for someone that would sustain a long term, exclusive, "can't live without you" relationship? I felt that love in the instant Mr. Virgo and I made eye contact. My old instincts would ask "What's wrong with you? These are perfectly good men, kind hearted, gentle, loving, fun, funny. What are you waiting for?" Well, it's interesting. It's like going out to photograph wildlife with poor vision. You can see the animal in your view finder, you can tell it's an animal and quite possibly that rare breed you're looking for, so you creep in closer. You step gently, stealing in quietly for a closer look. Hmmm…looks familiar, sounds familiar, acts a little like the one you're looking for. But then you get close enough to see and it's not the right one at all. The call is totally different. The coat similar but just not the same. Where did your animal go? Will you ever find another one or should you just be happy you saw one once and got a great picture of it?

This is what dating has been like. Sort of like an interview for a job I'm not at all sure I really want. And at the same time I yearn for companionship. I miss hugs and holding hands and all that comes with having a significant other. I'm in Neverland. Never so sad as I was when I first lost him…never so happy as I was when I had him.

I'm finding an entirely different set of circumstances to consider this go 'round. I've already had three marriages and a couple of significant relationships in my life. Do I really want another one? Finances are a huge consideration now. Much bigger than when I was in my twenties. There are no guarantees in marriage. If I were to marry, I'd lose my ability to collect widow's benefits. One must be married for ten years to collect from your spouse's Social Security. If the marriage falls apart before that, and you were a stay-at-home mom who didn't contribute a lot to your SS account like I was, you're screwed, to put it bluntly. It's a dilemma many of us Boomer widows are facing. It leaves you with choices many would find unconscionable…like cohabitation. Or resignation to being alone for the rest of your life. Right now, I see merits in both scenarios. I have friends who have been widowed much longer than me and they tell me they went through the same thing but they got over it and can't imagine being in a significant relationship again.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just an incurable romantic. I love falling in love. I love a man's company…the security of his love and affection. Maybe there's a part of me that still feels I "need" a man in my life to be happy. Maybe I'm a little lonely. Maybe I'm a bit bored. Maybe I'm a tad frightened. Maybe it's only been two years since I lost Mr. Virgo and I just miss him. I'll always miss him. But I'm a pragmatist. He's not coming back. And even though those men out there don't look exactly like him when I get up close, they are worthy in their own right. I'm not ready to give up on love and companionship entirely. I just want it on my terms. So, I'll keep my options open, and keep my camera handy. You never know when the right specimen may show up in your sights. I just won't base my happiness on it. <3

"In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety." Psalm 4:8

Camping Season

Fri, 17 Apr 2015 01:30:00 -0600

During the long, dark, freezing weeks of January and February, all I wanted to do was go back to Colorado to the arms of those who love me most. Now it's spring and all I want to do is go explore WV and camp in the mountains, attend music festivals, and ride my bike along rivers. I put up with the worst WV winter in decades only to leave when the fun starts. What's up with that? However, I need to have summer in Colorado. I want to play with my grandkids and take them camping before they get too old for Nana. I want to have long, leisurely conversations with my daughters. I want to hug my brother around the neck. I want to go out and play with my friends there. Summers in Colorado are divine! Beautiful blueblaster skies and so many fun things to do! I wish I had two trailers and a time machine…I'd keep a home in both places and time travel between them. Why is life so short???

"Just wait till you have kids of your own and you'll see how fast time flies!" Show of hands…whose mom told them that? And, didn't we think she was crazy? Oh, yes….the summer vacation stretched before us and it seemed like forever till school started again. For-EV-er! Now, here it is…April half gone already. That's why I'm thinking of heading south next winter. Maybe I won't waste so much time hibernating. I feel like half my life (ok…10 weeks) are spent in a hole. I'll just have to make up for it by playing extra hard while I can. Seriously…I want to be one of those badass old ladies that go on wild and crazy adventures! Wait…I already DO that, don't I? But I'm NOT old. I'll never be OLD! My friend Vicky told me yesterday that 60 is the new middle age. I'll go for that!

Oh, and by the way…remember me telling you about my friend whose son told her, via text, that he was getting married the next day? Well, he called her the next morning and told her they just couldn't get married without her there. So, the wedding is THIS weekend. So happy she gets to witness this monumental event! Millenials…they just aren't into tradition.

Happy Friday, fellow Ranchers!

❤

He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters."
Psalms 23:2

Happy Birthday, Moon Pie!

Thu, 02 Apr 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Twenty-five years! A quarter of a century! How could this time have passed so quickly? My baby…my youngest…my last little one.

My children are nearly 16 years apart. That wasn't how I planned it. We were putting her daddy through medical school, then residency, then setting up a practice so there just wasn't any time. Finally we decided, it was now or never…and we set about bringing this beautiful soul into the world.

Those were the days of science. I was 36 years old. Ovulation predictor kits can take all the fun out of making babies. The first month flat out didn't work. The second month I was in Atlanta visiting my dear friend, Cande. As luck would have it, the spot turned blue while I was there. I was lamenting to my friend that this was going to be another wasted month. Her precocious little three-year-old who was playing on the floor near by piped up and said, "My daddy can help you. He makes beautiful babies!" I thanked her and told her I already had a daddy picked out.

The third time was the charm, and nine months later this beautiful old soul joined us. She was captivating. Strangers would cross the street just to touch her hand. When I carried her around in my arms, she held court. People always commented on her eyes. She wasn't necessarily an easy child. It was a challenge to keep up with her. She could read the alphabet at 17 months old. She is sensitive and artistic. She is my free spirit. My alternative, tattooed hippie chick, Earth mother who's dance gives me great joy.

This one was devastated when we lost Mr. Virgo. She was only 15 when he came into our lives. Introducing a stepfather at that age can go either way…either he's going to blend in well or it's going to be a nightmare. I needn't have worried…she fell in love with him just as I had. They were very close, and losing him was her first experience with death. It is so difficult to see your children in pain and nearly impossible to help them when yours is nearly drowning you.

She had a tough road between my illness, divorce, and losing her "second dad" but she worked hard and made it through. I am proud of the woman she has become.

Happy Birthday, Pookiest!

❤

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.
Psalm 127:3-5 ESV

Unlearning

Sun, 08 Mar 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Sometimes people tell us something about ourselves that just is not true, yet we believe the lie. I can't possibly be the only one this has happened to, right? We can go years…decades….lifetimes believing these lies we were told by people who were important to us. We incorporate insensitive remarks into our psyches. And isn't it refreshing when someone stops you during your umpteenth self-denigrating comment and says "Now, wait a minute. That is simply untrue." I have a dear friend who has a habit of saying things like "Well, you know….I'm NOT the sharpest knife in the drawer." It simply is not true. How can one read 500 page books, dry stuff like Genghis Kahn, and be even remotely stupid? I want to yell at my friend and say "Stop it! You're beautiful! You are perfect!"

The other day, I was relaying something someone had said to me that I had believed. It had occurred many years before and I had bought into the lie. My friend called me on it and did what friends do. Tell the truth. I was a little taken aback. We hear the bad stuff so long we can't believe the good stuff. We have to unlearn the lies. It isn't easy. What are those outrageous lies you tell yourself? Recognize them….then unlearn them.

❤

"Not a word from their mouth can be trusted; their heart is filled with malice. Their throat is an open grave; with their tongues they tell lies."
Psalm 5:9

A Simple Life

Fri, 06 Feb 2015 02:30:00 -0600

I don't remember ever thinking of my grandparents as anything but old. My mom and dad were pretty old, my grandparents were really old, and my great grandparents were ancient. I wonder if my grandkids see me the same way? I'm pretty active and I take the girls camping. We go fishing. We go shopping. But, if I wear something that doesn't suit The Fashionista, she has been known to walk way ahead of me and pretend I'm visiting from out of town…which, of course, I am.

My maternal grandparents were who I wanted to model a marriage after. My mom said she never saw them argue. The closest thing I ever heard from her was long after Pop-Pop died. I asked her if he had helped around the house and she snorted and said, "Mart didn't even know how to fry an egg!" They worked hard. There were many mouths to feed and it was during the Depression. If it weren't for their old dairy cow, they would have starved.

One of my favorite memories was evenings when Pop-Pop would stretch out on the couch to watch the news. Grandma would pull a straight back chair over beside him so she could hold his hand. I always wanted that. I finally had it with Mr. Virgo but it was gone all too soon. I found this picture while scanning the family archives. Pop-Pop died in 1971. Grandma in '99. I still miss them. I'm older than they were in this picture. Where on earth did the time go?

❤

"I was young and now I am old…"
Psalm 37:25 NIV

Just Say No

Thu, 15 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

I'm learning. I'm being given repeated opportunities to practice kindness and patience. It's as though God said, "Honey…you weren't paying attention in class when you should have learned this so I'm just going to keep bashing your head against this door till you get it, ok?" Uh, yeah…sure.

I had another unfortunate conversation with my aunt today. Only this time, I felt bad for a MUCH shorter period of time. Why? Because, I realized this vitriol she fires in my direction at every opportunity has nothing at all to do with me and everything to do with HER! I realized I cannot get attacked if I do not engage in battle. She can poke and prod and pinch and hurt as often as she wants to. I'll just put on my armor and walk on through.

Just say no…to drama. To snotty backlashes. To bullying. And don't stand there and take blow after blow. Stand up and say "No. You cannot treat me this way." And leave. I know it's easier said than done. But you'll feel so much better afterwards if you stand up for…YOU!

❤

Ashes to Ashes

Tue, 06 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

Today is my "Re-Birthday". Today is the day I celebrate not dying. Fifteen years ago today, I was at the lowest point of my life. I was in a marriage that was crumbling at my feet, I was depressed and desperately unhappy. I had been on a medical treadmill for seven years taking ungodly amounts of prescription medications and was self-medicating with alcohol to dull the emotional torment. While not necessarily intentional, I overdosed on January 6, 2000 and could have very easily died. I climbed back up from the bottom of the barrel and rebuilt myself and my life. It was not easy, it was not pretty, but it was very real and absolutely necessary in order to survive and thrive. I am extremely grateful for every day I am given and thank God for the blessings He affords me daily.

I've been trying to decide how to commemorate the day and came up with a beautiful idea. I have a lock of Mr. Virgo's hair. I was out at the farm yesterday to pick up a couple of tubs of photos to scan and got my little red leather box from the locker in TOW-Wanda. I sat on the bed and slowly, carefully opened the blue velvet packet with that precious lock of spun silver that I used to run my fingers through. I've held the bag before, but only once have I touched it and that's when I left a bit in the wilderness of Colorado. I said a prayer and asked God to let me feel my love for a moment. I opened the bag and held that thick, coarse hair between my fingers and my heart leapt with joy. I closed my eyes and could feel my sweetheart with me and it made me smile. I sat that way for quite awhile then carefully tucked him back in the bag. I placed the blue velvet bag back in the red leather box and brought it with me. I had a plan.

On my way to the greater metropolis of Harrisville (pop. 1802), I stopped at the family plot in the cemetery on the hill where I get my messages (cell service is tricky in the boonies!). There, I knelt down, dug a hole, and carefully placed a small portion of Mr. Virgo's silver hair…right between where my Uncle Bob is buried and the site where my brother will lay someday. I covered it up, said a prayer, and to mark the site, I placed a plastic fork. Being the consummate foodie, I know Mr. Virgo would love the reference. So now I have a place where I can visit him here in WV. It's more fitting than the farm as I have had to release that place from my heart in a way that didn't welcome this monument. No…he rests safely now. In his grave, in the wilderness, nestled amongst loved ones, in my precious red leather box, in my heart…but most importantly, with God.

Yes, today is my re-birthday. A day I will always remember as the day God didn't let me leave. What a beautiful life He has given me!

❤

Fragility

Sun, 04 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

Aging ain't for sissies. Neither is grief. One can feel amazingly strong and rock solid in one moment and fall apart in the next. The fragility of my heart surprises me every single time the switch gets flipped.

As some of you may know, I have THE most awesome brother on the planet. He was born with cerebral palsy and has a resultant developmental disability. He is sweet, charming, funny, guileless. He lived at home with our mom until her unexpected death eleven years ago. He had never learned to do anything for himself. After mom died, he came to live near me in Colorado. He learned how to take care of himself and lives in as independent a setting as he can. He is my hero.

He is also aging…rather quickly. He is more frail and shuffles along with a laborious gait. It tugs at my heart strings. Nobody…not even my beloved Mr. Virgo…owns as big a chunk of my heart as my brother. I have always been his champion, his protector.

Night before last, I was chatting with a friend of mine in Florida. We were laughing our butts off about something so silly, we had tears rolling down our cheeks. We remarked how delightful it is to let loose and belly laugh till you cry. It's good therapy. Then…I received a text from my ex-husband that my brother was in the hospital. I went from absolute high, to basement low in two seconds. It was such a shock to my system, I threw up. As it was happening, this analytical part of me was off to the side observing the whole situation with curiosity. How could the switch flip so quickly? I never used to react to situations so violently. I hate that feeling…anxiety and the loss of control. I'm usually good about reaching for my Rescue Remedy, which really does help. But for some reason, it didn't even cross my mind last night. So I rode that dragon till the wee small hours before dawn. I must buy several tubes of the spray variety of this magical elixir and leave them everywhere so it's easier to remember to use it. It doesn't work when it sits in the bottom of my purse.

As it turns out, my brother just had a bad GI bug and they kept him over night. They gave him fluids and medications to stop the GI distress and he came home yesterday afternoon. He sounded good, but tired. It breaks my heart to watch him decline. It reminds me of the fragility of life. My ex is a doctor and says I should begin mentally preparing myself for the possibility of making a difficult decision regarding life support. I hate the thought, but it's something we all must consider at some point, I suppose. For now, I will focus on the love I can offer those who own a piece of my heart.

❤

Born to Sparkle!

Tue, 30 Dec 2014 02:30:00 -0600

Do you ever look at your little girl pictures and wonder where your sparkle went? It takes a lot to dull my shine, but lately…I just haven't been feeling it. Then I came across this picture in my archives. Just look at this little girl! She's got her nekkid baby doll, a pretty dress with shiny party shoes, and she's at her grandma's house. What else IS there to life? She hasn't been molested or abused. She hasn't seen her parents fight. She hasn't dated or married or divorced. She hasn't had babies. She hasn't worried about how to pay the bills. She hasn't sat on the edge of the bed at 2am waiting to see the headlights signaling her daughter's safe return home. She hasn't comforted her bullied child. She hasn't held her grandchildren. She hasn't lost her mom. She hasn't met the love of her life. She hasn't lost him. She hasn't known grief.

She hasn't known grief. But she will. She'll have trouble breathing. She'll step on that rake in the grass all too often. She'll feel the grief rise and fall in her chest like the tide. She'll reel with the pain and she'll learn how to take it. She'll vow never to hurt again, but she will. She'll vow never to love again, but she will. She'll think she can never sparkle again…but she will.

She will.

Because…look at this little girl.

She was BORN…TO…SPARKLE!

❤

"It's Christmas Time in Heaven"

Sat, 20 Dec 2014 02:30:00 -0600

This is the last picture taken of Mr. Virgo. It was Christmas morning 2012. Eleven weeks later, he was gone. This was the first Christmas he had off in 40 years. It was as if God was saying, "He won't be here next year so I'll give you this one together." It was a beautiful day. One that will remain in my heart forever.

I wrote this poem last year as a tribute. I thought I'd share it here again. So far, this year isn't quite as difficult as last year. As a dear friend of mine said, "The very nature of a mine field indicates fewer and fewer mines will be found as they explode." I guess the trick is to not get blown up.

❤

"It's Christmas Time in Heaven"

If only I'd have known
Your days on Earth were few,
I'd have spent each waking moment
Of my life with you.

I would have taken pictures
To mark each passing day
Then I could see you when I want
Since you have gone away.

I know you're up in Heaven.
I know you're there with God.
I know you're there with Mom and Dad,
But oh, this time is hard.

It's Christmas time, my darling.
Times past were filled with glee.
But this year all I think about is
You're not here with me.

No sneaky shaking presents.
There is no hug or kiss.
My heart just feels so empty.
It's you I really miss.

It's Christmas time in Heaven.
I know this must be true.
Every day was Christmas Day
When it was spent with you!

Poignant

Wed, 17 Dec 2014 02:30:00 -0600

The holidays are rich with traditions and memories. When we have suffered a loss, the first major holiday is the worst. My friend and I were discussing this over dinner last night. They lost her father-in-law in September. She had tried to explain to her husband what this loss would feel like and he "understood". He totally "got" that it was going to be painful but "at least he wasn't going to suffer anymore". Then his dad died. And he was at a total loss. He couldn't understand why seeing candy corn at Halloween reduced him to tears in the grocery store.

The thing is, unless you have experienced it personally, there really isn't any way you can honestly know what it's like to lose someone you love. And, each loss is different. It has always been my fervent hope that my writing can somehow prepare you for what comes after loss…even if it's just to understand that you're not alone, your grief is the worst grief, you are loved, and you will get through it.

I was listening to music on my iPad as I flew yesterday. I called on Mr. Virgo and asked him to come sit with me for awhile. I searched my phone photos for those great pictures I have of him. I didn't feel sad, per se. I let him wash over me and felt his energy surround me in a cosmic embrace. My 7 year old grand daughter snuggled in bed with me Saturday morning and we talked about God and what happens to us when we die. She told me not to worry…that when we die it's just our bodies that leave. WE'RE still here. She told me Papa Dan is always with us, all around us, and she has seen him. I love that. Why do we beat that out of kids? They are so much closer to God than we are. They see the source. I try to keep that alive in myself and encourage it in others.

❤

Changing Feet

Sun, 30 Nov 2014 14:09:58 -0600

I only open my mouth to change feet. Ever feel that way? A dozen words. Spoken while tired. Spoken without thinking. Spoken while grieving. They caused some hurt feelings which in turn caused a lashing out which caused my feelings to be hurt as well.

I have been so occupied with making this move, getting settled in, and getting the house ready for winter. I guess I wasn't being as in tuned to my aunt as I should have been. Bless her heart. She has had this place all to herself for the last six years. I have tried to be sensitive to that, but I will have to try harder. This cannot be easy for her. To feel like you're losing control. And we are both very strong willed, independent women. We are bound to butt heads on occasion.

Back up. Adjust. Move forward. Back up. Adjust. Move forward. This is life. It's like turning a camper around in a really tight place. You have to figure in the space, the length of the object, and go a little bit at a time. Oh, that is not an easy thing to do for my full-steam-ahead self! Patience. Breathe. Let go.

On the plus side, I did find a stove with a pilot light today. They are as hard as hen's teeth to find! I finally found one by Hotpoint that I had to order from Lowe's. The electric goes out here on the farm so frequently, we really needed a stove with a pilot light. Eureka! <3

Let's do Lunch!

Mon, 24 Nov 2014 02:30:00 -0600

Let's do lunch some day, you and I. Let's go to a bar at 10am and order a martini because we can. Let's ride a carriage in the park with fancy hats and a box of chocolates. Let's fly a kite in a tutu. Let's dance nekkid around a campfire with our tiaras in the moonlight. Let's be ripe and old and delicious and loud! Let's live in the sunshine. And….let's hold that sacred space and wait for each other when we cry….knowing we'll come back when we're ready.

Is there anything more human than that? <3

Keeping Young while Growing Old

Sun, 23 Nov 2014 02:30:00 -0600

I spent yesterday morning helping my aunt make pies for last night's "Sing". She used prepared pie crust for the very first time. She insisted she bake a scrap of it ahead of time because if it wasn't "fit to eat" she was going to throw it out and make her own. Her tremor is so bad now, it is painful to watch her try to do the things we take for granted…beating egg whites, stirring filling as it cooks, rolling out crust. As I held the pan for her and she scraped the hot lemon filling into her crusts, she said "Well, this is my Waterloo. I may make pies for family, but these are the last for the Sings." It hurt my heart a little to hear her recognize her limitations. She is such a proud woman. I told her that was just fine…she had done a good job all these years. Folks will understand. Still…passages. The endings that inevitably come. Those little steps…admissions…confessing the infirmities of age tug at your heart strings…whether they are from those you love or from your own lips. She is happy I am here. She was staring down the abyss…alone…as was I. We are two peas now, this wonderful, graceful, beautiful woman and I.

We lead a simple life here. I practice mindfulness…something I am convinced my aunt has done all her life as did her mother and her mother before her. When I do dishes, sweep floors, haul brush, I focus on the moment. When I do dishes, I am doing dishes. I am feeling the texture of the scrubber beneath my fingers, the warmth of the water, the lemony scent of the bubbles. When I sweep the floors, my focus is on the sound the broom makes as it crosses over linoleum. As I haul brush, I feel the weight of the branches in my hands, the crunch of the leaves as I cross to the brush pile, the chill of the wind as it brushes my cheeks. This makes work a meditation. It keeps life simple. How can we be here if we are there? There is a rhythm here that it has taken me awhile to feel. I had to slow down and be still. The rhythm is deep, quiet, redolent with the smell of the leaves and the whispers of souls passed. It is a source of wealth no bank account could ever fill. It is the essence of love. <3

Beauty is in the eye...

Sat, 01 Nov 2014 01:30:53 -0600

“We Were Young and Beautiful…Now We Are Just Beautiful!”

A couple of nights ago, my aunt and I sat on the sofa side by side and called my cousin to FaceTime and watched to little ones Trick or Treat. She is enamored with the marvelous technology of the iPad and the internet. We were waiting for my cousin to call back and I was showing her what they will see when we connect. She frowned a bit and said “Oh my! I look a hundred years old!” Then I quoted this caption to her. I looked at the two of us on camera. We are 21 years apart, she and I…exactly the difference in age between me and my firstborn. I look at her beauty and her strength and hope I have half her qualities when it’s my turn to be 82. She is a no nonsense woman. She is educated, erudite, lithe, and witty. There was a time when she and I butted heads. We are both strong willed and independent. We have both mellowed with age and loss. And we are both beautiful.

As is wont to happen on special anniversaries, I had some tearful moments yesterday. It was nine years ago that Mr. Virgo walked in and stole my heart. I needed to do something special to commemorate the day. I met my high school girlfriends for coffee then went to the new farm supply store to stock up on birdseed for the winter. I got my hair cut then went to the mall. Mr. Virgo and I were particularly fond of Christmas ornaments made by Ne’Qua. They are glass and hand painted on the inside. We bought one every year we were together. Last year I bought my first one alone. The Hallmark shop in the mall carries Ne’Qua ornaments so I took my time looking at each one…tracing their curves gently with my finger…allowing them to pull me back to the vacations Mr. Virgo and I took. We always bought our Christmas ornaments on vacation so we could relive our travels when we decorated the tree together. After some time, I settled on the perfect ornament. A small one with a male and female cardinal. West Virginia’s state bird. An appropriate commemoration all the way around. Mr. Virgo would be pleased with the choice, I’m sure.

It is important to have rituals. Continuing rituals that you shared with your loved ones maybe difficult at first. Maybe you need to change the way you do it. But rituals can keep your connection to your loved one alive and that is important to some people in their grief process. I was distressed early on in my grief process when certain memories began to fade. I later learned it’s a common effect of grieving to lesson the acute pain of the loss. The memories came back with time. Now I have another sweet memory for when I decorate our tree this winter. <3

Oh, How Times Change

Tue, 02 Sep 2014 01:30:45 -0600

“Commemorative Photo of 40”

Ok, who had a boudoir photo taken? They were all the rage in the ’90s. I had to have one! Partially because I’m such an….ummm, extrovert! But also because at any given moment, we are the youngest we will ever be. This was taken when I was turning 40. I wanted to memorialize that static moment in my life when everything was perfect. My marriage, my family. My body, my hair. I was in the best shape of my life. My little girl was 4. My big girl was 20. I remember lovely afternoons stitching with my girlfriends, not a care in the world. Planning dinner parties was a monumentous occasion. This was before the ravages of depression and Prozac took away my youth. My ex-husband kept this photo on the wall in his office. It was the Camelot years.

Then everything changed. I had three major surgeries in less than two years. I didn’t bounce back well. I started down the rabbit hole of depression and didn’t come back for ten years. When I got back, life had gone on without me and my marriage was over. My ex had taken this picture down and put it in a drawer in his desk. I didn’t look like that beautiful woman anymore. I didn’t bathe or get my hair done. I gained a hundred pounds. I lived in shorts and an oversized t-shirt without a bra. Those were the Prozac years. I don’t remember my forties.

The story has a happy ending though. I turned my life around after my ex and I separated. I found my Prince Charming and married him. I had such a beautiful life. That was my fifties. Those were my passionate years.

And now, here I am at the opening credits of a new movie. A new decade. A new era. I am very much at peace. Sure, I suffered a blow. My world literally changed in a heartbeat…or the lack thereof, actually. But I refuse to wear widowhood like sackcloth and ashes. I will not make grief a career path. These are my halcyon years.

I look at this picture and as far as I’m concerned, I still look like this. Ok, my hair is gray (and not permed). Parts of my anatomy have headed south. Things aren’t as tight as they once were. I like to think my inner beauty was so great, it fought to get out and my skin expanded to accommodate all that lusciousness! Look at that picture again. That’s who I am inside. Beautiful. Sultry. Young. Wow!

My Tribe

Thu, 14 Aug 2014 01:30:40 -0600

“My Tribe…My Family”

I have a group of high school friends that have sort of found our way into a group chat discussion on my private page. We aren’t discussing anything we don’t want anyone else to see. We just want to be able to reach each other faster with the same information. Much like we did when several of us hung out together when we were in the same high school. We “get” each other. We KNOW where we’ve all been…at least in our formative years. We share tears over lost loved ones as freely as we share recipes for hot dog sauce and pics of our grandkids. We are a tribe…a zany crew of grand and glorious women from the class of ‘71.

I’m a rabble rouser. I rouse rabbles. I will help these women become girls again because I have seen firsthand how that can transform us. When I get settled at the farm, before the frost is on the pumpkin, I am having a glamping party for my gal pals. We will dance in the moonlight! We will eat decadent foods. We will bond and swear oaths to always be there for one another and that none of us will die alone. We will laugh and cry and sing old songs with memories of driving with the windows open, hair flying, cherry lips laughing with abandon.

Yes, I am going home to my tribe…wild, wacky, wise, wonderful women whose love I cherish deep within my soul. I’m a step closer. I got an offer on the house yesterday. (I am almost afraid to say anything for fear of jinxing it!) It was low, as first offers usually are. I countered. They expressed interest in buying my furniture. That would solve a big problem. Everything is happening as it should. One block at a time. One step after another. Very spiritual. Very Zen. Then I took my St. Joseph statue out of the ground, looked at his little dirty face and yelled…“Come on…we’re burning daylight here! Sell this house, will ya?!?!” Mother Theresa I am not. <3

Anchors

Mon, 11 Aug 2014 01:30:19 -0600

“Anchors”

While the house was being shown on Saturday, I drove into town for a Starbucks fix. Afterwards, I drove by my ex-husband’s house to see if they were home. I don’t usually drop by unannounced but felt compelled this time. I wanted to share with them what my plans are in WV and spend some time catching up.

There was a time when ours was very much a love/hate relationship. Or, probably more precisely, a love/anger relationship. As with any divorce, there was a lot of this finger-pointing, he said/she said stuff going on for the first few years. Then we both remarried and a sort of truce was reached. We went to the same events without killing each other. We spoke on the phone when necessary without diving back into the dirt. We made progress, slowly but surely, but I wouldn’t necessarily say we were “friends”. Then Mr. Virgo died, and it showed us all just how fragile this thing is. This life that we think will always be there and that there’s time down the road to mend your fences. In essence, my ex and his wife were there for me whenever I needed them, for whatever reason. Several months after Mr. Virgo’s death, we decided to have family holiday dinners together so the kids didn’t have to choose which place to go to first. After Thanksgiving, he and I had a few moments by ourselves and he told me it was ironic that it took a family tragedy to make us realize that we are just that. Family. Non-traditional, eccentric, mixed faith, loving, supportive…with common goals. Health and happiness.

I spent an hour and a half on their front porch, drinking coffee, sharing stories, sharing the love only a family bond can give you. This was a long time coming, this peace. It took a lot of hard work on all of our parts and I am so proud of us. They are anchors in my life.

My prayer during those dark years was always “God, please heal my family.” And, like the loving God He is…He did. <3

Growing (B)older

Sun, 06 Jul 2014 01:30:04 -0600

“Growing (B)older”

Aging isn’t for sissies. I have aches and pains in places I didn’t know I had a few years ago. My vision has changed…again. And I can remember conversations from high school but not what I came into the room for. I used to party till 3 and be at work at 7. Now I’m hard pressed to make it through a movie. I can’t hear what you’re saying half the time in normal conversation, yet get me in a room with more than three people talking and it sets my teeth on edge. What happened? I mean, one minute I was a nubile young co-ed and now I’m…not. Now…I’m so much MORE! Now, my bullshit detector is much more sensitive. Now, my ability to tolerate intolerance is virtually nonexistent. Now, I save my tears for when they count. I stopped counting my wrinkles and started counting the laughs that make them. I stopped caring what others think of me and caring more about others. I have become much bolder…fearless and strong. I have let life wash over me and like the stones in the river, my edges have become smoother. I’m rounded like a river rock. I’m softer and more flexible. I’m at ease in just about any situation. I have survived the death of my spouse. I am privileged to be this age. To become a crone…a wise one. I am free to be who and whatever I wish. Yes, this is a privilege I do not take lightly.

Celebrate who you are. If you are a wise, old woman…then BE that. Don’t be afraid to grow older. Don’t be afraid to grow older alone.

The other day I was leaning into another wave of grief. I was also not feeling well so I was vulnerable. I asked a friend “What will happen to me if I get really sick? Who will take care of me?” She pointed out that was fear talking. She is right, of course. We all have fears. I am not immune. But I can CHOOSE to be brave in the face of aging. I have watched my husband die. I have raised daughters. I have faced my own mortality. I’ve got this.

It's my Birthday!

Fri, 13 Jun 2014 01:30:09 -0600

“Happy Birthday to my Beautiful Self!”

Mr. Virgo made a huge deal over my birthday because he knew how much I loved it. Birthdays are meant to be fun and celebrated with abandon because you’ve made it through another year. I was so sad on my birthday last year because Mr. Virgo wasn’t here to celebrate it with me. It came and went with little fanfare. I think I got a card. The girls at work got me a cake. My kids called. I cried all evening.

Well, not this year! I have much to celebrate. It’s Friday the 13th! It’s a full moon! I’m listing my house today! I’m going out for lunch with friends today! I’m going out with friends tonight! I went out with a friend for lunch on Tuesday! I went out with the girls from work yesterday! I’ve got the next week off with TOW-Wanda! I get to visit with my friend from California! I’m healthy! I’m happy! I’ve got my groove back! Oh, I can just FEEL Mr. Virgo smiling down on me and saying, “That’s my girl!”

Happy Birthday to ME!!!

New Shoes

Mon, 19 May 2014 01:30:20 -0600

“New Shoes!”

I wrote recently that I have been having trouble with plantar fasciitis. It turns out my older daughter has the same problem. We both break out the sandals as soon as the snow melts and wear then till it’s too cold to feel your toes. This can wreak havoc with your feet when you get no support.

She has a pair of these sandals and when I tried them on, I knew I needed a pair as soon as possible! They are made by abeo. They have two arch supports. The traditional one and one under the ball of your foot to support the metatarsal arch. Oh my…they are divine…pricey but well worth it. I walked all day yesterday and wore them all day today and no more pain.

We bought them at The Walking Store. They scanned my feet to determine where my pressure points are and knew my size precisely. I also purchased a pair of exercise shoes with orthotics so I can get back to walking comfortably.

Oh dear…orthopedic flip-flops. I am old.

Age is Just a Number

Tue, 29 Apr 2014 01:30:18 -0600

“Age is Just a Number”

The other night I was talking to my aunt and she was tearful. She turns 80 tomorrow and doesn’t want to be 80. Her husband has been ill and has had a couple of strokes. She has some help with him, but she still does a lot. She’s sitting there watching her husband die slowly. I can understand that she is sad facing such a monumental birthday! So, maybe age ISN’T just a state of mind….just a number. At least not when the waves are crashing. I’ll be 61 next month. I’m sure my views will change if I am blessed with longevity.

That being said…attitude can make a huge difference in how satisfied we are with life…at ANY age. <3

The Widowmaker

Tue, 11 Mar 2014 01:30:19 -0600

“The Widowmaker”

As many of you know, Mr. Virgo died one year ago tomorrow. He certainly seemed healthy except for a fairly large weight loss in the months leading up to his death. He attributed that to being too busy during ski season to sit down and eat. Also, his dentures were still new and it hurt him to eat.

On the morning of March 12th, we drove to Grand Junction to look at travel trailers. Standing in the fourth one, he had a massive heart attack and was dead in 3 hours. He had what is called The Widowmaker which is a sudden and complete blockage of his anterior descending artery. The cardiologist in the ER kept turning to me and reminding me it was “grave”. He mentioned there is an increase in heart attacks with the time change. This is due to a challenge to the circadian rhythms that regulate everything in our bodies from sleep to cardiac rhythm.

Mr. Virgo was a stubborn man. He might wince at a hangnail and at the same time downplay that pain in his left shoulder. He refused to have the complete physical his doctor recommended just three months before. So, as they say, the rest is history.

I suggest you schedule a physical this time every year. If you are having ANY cardiac symptoms, don’t try to be a tough guy….get checked! You just might be saving your own life and preventing, or postponing at least, the heartbreak your death will cause those who are left behind. Here is a link for an explanation of this type of heart attack.

http://blog.myheart.net/2013/12/19/the-widowmaker/

Growing Up

Fri, 07 Mar 2014 02:30:02 -0600

“Growing Up…that’s my mama, back row, far right.”

I’m sure most of you will relate to this to some extent…I feel like I’ve grown up more in the last year than I have in my whole life. Widowhood forces you to really look deep at yourself, your core values, your beliefs, your goals. A friend of mind told me today that nothing strikes fear in your heart more than death and money. That is so true.

I was talking with one of my best friends the other night. I was telling him there has only been a couple of years in my life that I took care of myself (and my child) all on my own. The rest of the time, I’ve had a partner to share the burden with me. I’ve been a “kept woman” for most of my adult life. I was always grateful. I wasn’t always appreciative. And, in the long run, it did not serve me well.

I am fortunate to have at least some money to allow me to have taken this past year to regroup. I was not nearly as careful with my money as I should have been. I’ve spoken to many other widows who say the same thing, so it’s not just me. We’ve all made financial mistakes. The best you can hope for is that they were not disastrous.

There are other mistakes we make and we wonder if we learned ANYTHING in our younger years. We have jumped into relationships too fast. We have given things away too soon. We thought we were sane. Ha! Medically speaking, there are many similarities between grief and pathology. In other words, we really can be pretty crazy when we are actively grieving.

One of the first things I was told was “Do NOT make big, life changing decisions in the first year.” For the most part, I stuck to that. I went to a financial advisor and she drew up a great plan. It’s not that I ignored it, per se. I just couldn’t see how it pertained to me. I know…crazy. I’ve said this before, but I can almost pinpoint on the calendar the exact day I came out of the fog and realized I’d spent too much money. It was devastating. Don’t get me wrong, I’m ok. I’m not losing my house or anything like that. There’s still enough of the life insurance left to get by for a year if I’m frugal. I am very grateful. But, I’ve definitely made mistakes.

Now I’m at that point in my life where I’m going to have to do something to bring in money. I need to re-learn the skills I had as a young, single mom so I can support myself. I know, I know…I’m 60 years old, right? It’s almost embarrassing that I am just now doing this. So, unless I WIN Powerball (which I hear you actually have to buy tickets for! Who knew?), or some extremely wealthy benefactor comes along and offers to take care of me, I’m going to have to get a real J-O-B. Gosh…I’m such a princess…really, I am.

For sale: One very well used tiara! Inquire within.