I’ve been playing with my hair...trying to dress up a plain old ponytail or bun with a fun hair wrap. The color isn’t quite right on this one. I ordered a lighter one with more curls. We’ll see if it works better. I was remarking to Mr. FixIt yesterday...I cannot believe how grey my hair has gotten in the last five years. But I still have a streak of my former color in my bangs on one side that goes back a ways on top.

We all have a story to tell. Some have a handful. Some can write forever and not tell them all. But, the point being...we all have something to share with others and with the world. We just have to be brave enough to speak. It isn’t easy for some people to tell their stories. Some are too personal. Some are too painful to repeat. And, some people think their stories aren’t worthwhile to others so they keep them inside.

This is Atlanta as seen from space. It is the home of around 500,000 people. People like you and me...young, old, professionals, blue collar workers, grandmas and grandpas, moms and dads, kids of all ages and stripes. Imagine, if you will, driving into Atlanta today and find it...empty. Every citizen dead and gone...lost one by one over the course of one year. It’s unthinkable, isn’t it? No one in the airport, no one in the banks or hospitals or shops...every house deserted, collecting dust.

I know it’s probably a little early to be wistful about springtime in West Virginia, but it’s really not all that far off. By Wednesday, we are expecting the temperature to climb into the mid 50’s and it will feel glorious after the cold and snow we’ve been experiencing. Those first few days of promising warmth and sunshine stir my adventurous spirit and sends me into fantasies of long road trips and camping in the woods by a stream. 

I’ve been on the prowl for the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe for the last three decades. There was a bakery restaurant in Glenwood Springs called The Daily Bread. It was THE place to go for breakfast and lunch and I’ve spent countless hours lingering over Terry’s Eggs Benedict or my favorite salad that was served in something akin to a wash tub. I’d order mine with extra turkey, avocado, and no croutons. As soon as the server took my order to the back, I’d hear John call out...”Ginny’s here!!!” I loved that place.

Do you ever plan something and then, for no real reason you can put your finger on...you begin to feel uneasy about it? I’ve felt that way for an entire month, ever since I scheduled my surgery. It was never enough to really DO anything about it based on just feeling a little off. But still, it kind of feel a little off. 

We are supposed to have our second Covid shot today, but the weatherman says Mother Nature may not cooperate with us. I’m praying the roads are clear and the vaccine clinic isn’t rescheduled. I want to have as much time between the vaccine and my surgery as possible...not only to improve my chances of staying healthy on our trip to Florida, but also to make sure I feel my best when we get there.

Yesterday was my completely cozy Hygge day here on the Ponderosa. I set out to enjoy the day with the intent of finding joy in the mundane moments instead of feeling cooped up for yet another cold and snowy day. Making a habit of finding joy in the moments of our lives makes things easier...not only on ourselves, but also on our life mate if we have one. I remember doing the same thing when I was alone and joy always makes life a little easier.

I grew up in West Virginia, but I had barely turned twenty when I left the state and moved to England to live with Hubby #1. I really didn’t have much of an understanding of the weather here, other than big thunderstorms in the summer and sometimes snow in the winter. Since moving back here in 2014, I’ve come to appreciate the subtle nuances of our climate in the Mountain State. 

One of the hallmarks of this blog has always been my willingness to be open and vulnerable with you all. That started during the deep, dark days of my active grieving when Mr. Virgo died. I pledged I would always be open and honest with you...sometimes to the consternation of my friends and family. I know they were thinking more along the lines of my personal safety, but I needed what I gave you when I gave it. It was as much, if not more, for me than it was for you.