“Can’t we all just get along?”

Those of you who have been reading my blog for some time know that, even in my grief, I’m a pretty upbeat individual. Mr. Virgo used to call me Pollyanna because I always look on the sunny side of life. I objected saying there’s nothing wrong with looking for the light, even in the darkest situations…as long as you don’t stick your head in the sand. I think I keep a weather eye out for the realities of the world while still trying to look on the bright side.

“Vibrant Women…a women’s ministry.”

Something phenomenal happened Friday night and it has taken me this long to process it. Actually, I’m sure I’ll be processing it for some time to come. We have a husband-wife team leading our church. It has been wonderful to watch Pastor Heather growing into a strong leader for the women of our region. A little over three years ago, God planted a seed in her to lead a Women’s Ministry. She gathered her friends together, told them her ideas for this movement, and asked them to start feeding her possible names. When she heard “Vibrant Women”, she was moved. Vigorous. Energetic. Lively. Vital. All words that resonated with where she wanted to go with this movement….words that described women of strong faith.

“Aren’t these the cutest little campfire cupcakes?”

There is something so special about camping with a bunch of gals. You may not have met them yet, but they’re going to be your new BFF’s before the weekend is over. I’ve been involved with the whole camp-like-a-girl movement since Mr. Virgo died and I got my first camper. I was first introduced to Sisters on the Fly and along the way, I met and got to know Janine Pettit. 

“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.

“The little whitetail deer of West Virginia are so delicate and fine boned compared to the larger mule deer of Colorado.”

Thursday nights have been fun the last three weeks because I’ve spent the evening at the local pizza shop…munching on yummy pizza and people watching. Last night, my friend Charlotte came to have dinner with me and catch up. Charlotte and her husband, my second cousin Rick, are the couple that took my farm cats down to their barn to live. She says they are doing really well. As a matter of fact, four or five beautiful ducks showed up recently and have taken up residence with the cats and a plethora of roosters. A lot of times, people end up with more roosters than they need to get the job done and they end up down at Charlotte’s barn. She has quite a menagerie now. Next week, my small group meetings begin for our Spring session so I won’t be hanging out at the pizza joint for a while.

“There’s an old saying…Watch your pennies and your dollars will watch themselves. I hate when I get caught paying more for something than I should have. I feel robbed!”

I’m really careful with my money these days. I wasn’t always. I hate to admit it, but I was a spoiled princess and I really didn’t pay much attention to how much things cost. If I wanted/needed something, I just bought it. I didn’t pay much mind to grades of quality other than to buy the best I could afford. I still adhere to that somewhat, because I firmly believe you usually get what you pay for. I am much more accommodating when it comes to sacrificing a little bit of quality for a good savings. I also hate to admit, I’m learning most of this from Mr. FixIt. He’s a frugal man and, while I have gotten him to spring for a little better quality sometimes, he has done a wonderful job in teaching me to pay attention to prices.

“The Ponderosa is the land I have dreamed of all my life.”

I’ve still been recuperating from this bronchitis/cold/virus/allergy thing. Kind of laying low, taking care of myself. To keep from re-infecting Mr. FixIt (he already had this last month), I’ve been spending a lot of time out in TOW-Wanda…resting, reading, writing, napping, cogitating. It has been very good for me to spend so much time in my little house on wheels. It certainly made winter go by MUCH quicker!

“Has the mental image of ‘widow’ changed all that much?

One of my friends shared a post with me yesterday. Ironically, it turns out I know the woman who wrote it. And, I know her well enough to understand what she meant by what she said about being called a widow. The writer, Jan, said she didn’t like the term “widow” because it conjures up this preconceived notion of “old” and “feeble”. As she says, we live in an era where ageism runs rampant. Our gray hair and social mores puts the widow in an unenviable position on more levels than grief alone.

“A satellite view of The Farm….lots and lots of trees and hills.”

You have seen pictures of the farmhouse I’ve been caring for…the home of my heart. I’ve tried to describe what the 74 acres looks like. “Lots of trees and woods” is a bit of an understatement and it’s hard to picture if you are unfamiliar with the dense deciduous woods of West Virginia.

I went on Google Maps and took a satellite view of the farm. I wasn’t able to get all the land in one picture without making the house look so small you couldn’t see it. But, that little red dot in the lower left corner is the map pin on the house. And those dense woods you see there is maybe two-thirds of the farm itself. Inside those woods are trails and roads, creeks and rocky outcroppings. And somewhere off to the right about one-third up from the bottom is the strawberry shed where we sorted berries for the farmer’s market.

“Grandma always carried a fresh hanky wherever she went.”

I was looking through my picture albums on my iPad yesterday. I sometimes browse to find old memories that stir up a story for you. This one did just that. I’ve been writing about The Farm since early on in this blog. Grandma’s farm holds a king-sized piece of real estate in my heart so my stories often center around my memories there. And, since I am knee deep in editing my rough draft for the book, I have been writing and re-reading these stories.