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."

The ubiquitous produce market. The south is dripping with them. My cousins and I took a "buggy" ride down the hill last week to pick up some produce at Scotty's Market in Bluff City, TN. One step across the threshold and time seems to slow down. From rutabagas to fresh North Carolina strawberries, the options are plentiful. There is a row of chippy painted chairs in a line in the back. A respectable collection of cast iron cookware graces a wall. The clerk offers me a strawberry as I wander around. The floors were gravel and gave the space a quiet atmosphere. Large flat plank tables held the produce. Workers hovered over bins and picked over the fruits and veggies, pinching away the bad bits. I love stopping to really experience the flavor of the small towns when I travel.

I will soon be moving back into my camper after a winter spent indoors. It has been wonderful to have running water...an amenity I did without last winter. And, as it turns out, this winter was much milder than last year.

I'm really looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again. My memory foam mattress has been calling my name for quite some time. I'll still be camped here on the river till I head back to Colorado. I love this river and will cherish the time I've spent here. Watching the sunrise has never been more appealing than it is right here so I wanted to share it with you today. Have a blessed day!

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.

Fitness isn't all about the sweat. It isn't all about the food. It isn't all about meditation and centering prayer. Sometimes it's about rewarding your little piggies for carrying you around for nearly 63 years. I don't splurge on clothes anymore. I don't color my hair. I don't have acrylic nails. I don't get facials. I don't get massages, although I miss those tremendously.

I don't know why I do this. Year after year. I have a plan. It just never works out. I have a tendency to procrastinate. And yesterday, it caught up with me.
I have a hard time staying up with my checkbook. It's not a big deal because I follow everything online. But it becomes a big deal at tax time. I then make a frantic dash and download a year's worth of transactions, run a quick report in my accounting program, plug the numbers in my tax program, and voila! Easy peasy, right? Wrong.

I sat down this morning to do my taxes. When I opened my laptop, I saw the calendar reminder from last week. April 7th would have been Mr. Virgo's and my 9th wedding anniversary. It never entered my mind. I had no dread leading up to it. And I only had momentary regret that I forgot.

It was a busy week with traveling and the excitement of getting a literary management contract. Thursday morning I had a breakfast meeting with Hubby #1 and his sweet wife. I don't often get the chance to sit down with her and chat about what's going on in our lives. Then I drove from Louisville to Bristol, Tennessee. I spoke with friends and family most of the way. I made a few business calls. And the rest of the time I listened to music, singing along at the top of my lungs, marveling at the scenery crossing the mountains of Virginia and Tennessee. The redbud and dogwood were fabulous! The blue skies and puffy white clouds added to the ethereal atmosphere. If I could make a choice of a beautiful day to repeat, that would sure be one of them.

So, I only told you the first half of the story of running into my old friend, Pastor Jim, at the Kroger store a couple weeks ago. I told you I was wandering the aisles when he popped into my mind...a face and name I hadn't seen nor heard of in almost 45 years. Then, when I went into the mysteriously short checkout line...there he was!

I have been approached by Italia Gandolfo of Gandolfo Helin & Fountain Literary Management Company with an offer to represent me. With much consideration, research and prayer, I have agreed and signed a contract. I have an agent! Wow!

(Edit: I decided later to take my writing in a different direction and am no long represented by this company, but it was a fun ride!)

This is a wonderful day. I've never seen this one before. ~ Maya Angelou

I can't remember my last difficult day. I no longer pontificate each sadness that washes over me. I haven't had a "bad night" in a few months. I don't hold my breath as much anymore. My tongue is no longer pressed to the back of my teeth in an effort to keep from screaming. My tears are sweet reminders of a precious love instead of gut wrenching sobs of relentless sorrow. There is measurable, palpable relief oozing from my soul.