Author: Joy Hurt

Happy December 1st!!!!! In these parts, the contrast between Christmas decorations and the stark landscape is as glaring as this photo. With frosty temperatures a nightly event and the ever present winds howling, everything that was grey-green is now golden. The rocky mountains are covered with the slightest dusting of snow, resembling a sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar.

Today, the storm is moving in. As I write, the winds have carried more leaves into the yard. The gardens of Winterpast sleep now, dreaming of spring blooms and summer shade. The Mysterious Marine has been an inspiration with gardening suggestions, hints, and tips for our spring adventures. Once gardeners, gardeners forever. Both MM and I love plants and our yards.

While out shopping together I suggested he buy an Amaryllis. He had never tried to grow one. These are in boxed flower kits at this time of year. Usually, $5. These flowers shoot out of the box quicker than time has been rolling by. It seems they can grow an inch a day, finally blooming in all their magnificent splendor. The Mysterious Marine is a fan now. His plant is about 15″ and growing. It hasn’t bloomed yet, but soon will.

Saturday will be a day full of of Christmas traditions and celebrations. In the early morning, with coffee in hand, MM and I will decorate the tree amidst a sea of boxes and tinsel. Christmas decorations hold such memories and magic. I’m looking forward to learning about his favorites while sharing mine. While he continues on with outdoor lighting, I plan to sneak away for a Christmas social with my Bible Study girlfriends. An ornament exchange and brunch at a house just two streets away from mine. Neighbors and friends I’m getting to know better and better.

With a quick dinner, followed up with coats, mittens, and some hot cocoa, we’ll be out the door to enjoy the Chamber Christmas Tree Lighting and Light Parade at 7pm on main. After Cocoa with the Cops, I’ll be looking for a little visit with Santa and Mrs. Claus. I hope we snap a few pictures. Just like that, the Christmas season is here. Saturday is supposed to be white! All the better.

Driving home last night after a hair trim at Salon 95 and a fabulous dinner of Elk Stew with MM, I carefully drove through the empty streets, amazed at how far life has taken me away from the land of continuous vineyards. Here I am, following my own path through the desert. The massive cottonwood trees and stark landscape have stolen my heart. This is my forever home. Home Means Nevada to Me.

Finding direction and purpose after losing such a big part of my life has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I never expected the blessing of new family and friends in a place I loved drawing as a young girl. While driving along, it is obvious that others feel the same way this holiday season. A return to customs and happiness is twinkling in our little town. Neighborhoods have come awake, trimmed in colorful lights and funny blow up decorations. My four-mile drive back home last night was magical.

Whatever you do today, it’s DECEMBER!!! Do something holiday-ish. There are so many great movies to watch. Cookies to bake. Friends to hug. Songs to sing. These special days go by so quickly, don’t miss out on a thing.

More tomorrow.

Widowhood is hard enough before adding the responsibilities of our late spouses. My mind takes me back to May 2020, when I was fogged in with the newness of grief and overwhelmed with the recent move into Winterpast.

For new readers, VST lost his battle with an aggressive form of liver cancer after 9 short weeks. Shortly before his illness was revealed, we had found a buyer for our home in Virginia City, while making an offer on Winterpast. After VST’s death, I became responsible for the care and maintenance of not one, but two vehicles. Me. The me that never paid attention to vehicles except to ride in them. The me that could be quite the complainer when vehicles didn’t work right, while not understanding much about the car itself.

Every day, during the month of May, 2020, I’d take one of the vehicles and drive 45 miles one way for a load of boxes from the storage area. With 350 boxes of everything from Christmas ornaments to heavy Psychology books, it was all I could do to drive back and forth, hoping not to crash as the tears flowed. One round trip took 90 minutes of travel along the loneliest highway in the America. A real title, I found it to fit the road well.

While driving miles and miles through the desert, it never occurred to me that I should attend to my car’s needs. I didn’t check the oil. I didn’t check other fluid levels. I didn’t even walk around the car to make sure I still had four wheels. I just got in and drove.

Until one day…….

I had driven the Ram 1500 that day. I don’t often speak of this vehicle. It belonged to VST. So many memories are engrained in the upholstery. So many vistas we enjoyed through those windows as we took to the road. We were feral parents of the most wild kind, pulling a trailer behind this pick-up for the better part of a year. VST always drove. I always rode shotgun. Hooked up, off we went. These days, its just a cool truck. Back then, it was an emotional ride just to open the door and sit in the driver’s seat.

VST always made sure it was maintained except for one tiny detail. He had a problem with tires. He would wear the last tread off tires, long after they were safe. In the Central Valley of California, that was just fine. Not too much ice or snow to worry about. No windy roads with the reputation of Geiger Grade which hung precariously on the side of Mt. Davidson on the way to Virginia City. I remember having a discussion about new tires in the fall of 2019. He assured me HE would handle the car issues when it was time. But then, time ran out.

On this certain day in May, I’d returned from the storage area with 24 banker boxes. That seemed to be the maximum number held by the pickup, no matter how I arranged them. Dropping the keys by the front right tire, it was then I was face to face with reality. My tires were BALD. Not just a little used up. Not just a little overdue for new. The tread was gone, or nearly so. So dangerous, I had to get new tires before I drove the truck again. That was my introduction to car maintenance.

At the very least, as a widow, there are some things you simply can’t ignore or refuse to learn about. You Tube is rich with instructional videos. My truck’s hood latch was tricky to find and open. After watching a simple video, I figured it out. It is the same with all the things you need to know about your car.

Please. Make sure your spare tire is in working order. Make sure you know where it is and how to get to it. At the very least, carry AAA Roadside Assistance, so that someone can come to help you in the event of a flat tire. They will also bring gas if you run out or a battery if yours goes dead.

With the cold weather upon us, check your tire pressure to make sure it is correct for your car and driving conditions. Your car’s Owner’s Manual has all kinds of marvelous information, including the type of tires your car requires. Be sure to read through the manual again to refresh your knowledge of your vehicle.

Don’t forget to replenish your windshield washer fluid with the right type for your area. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, I need the type that doesn’t freeze. Your auto supply store will know the type you need for your area. If you are traveling to areas that freeze, that’s something to remember. A windshield full of frozen fluid sucks. We’ll leave that story for another time.

Find a mechanic by word of mouth, not just Google or Yelp. You need a mechanic that is trustworthy and knowledgeable, not just some guy on the corner. I have a local tire shop that I prefer. For maintenance, I like the dealership in town. A little more pricey, but, they sell both Rams and Jeeps. It’s their business to know the vehicles inside and out.

Do learn how to open your hood and check the oil regularly. If you have a newer vehicle, change the oil when the light comes on. Use the best grade of oil and filter offered.

Even though the sticker price will shock you, replace your wiper blades before winter sets in. If you need a new windshield, call your insurance company and get it set up. Some companies will change them right in your driveway.

Above all, don’t ignore the code. It code lead to much bigger expenses than a trip to the mechanic to find the problem.

Knowledge is power. In this case, knowing a little about your car and paying attention to how it sounds and feels when driving down the road will help a lot when something breaks. And, something will. Things always do.

That’s my helpful hint for the month. Boring, but necessary. As widows, new responsibilities can be overwhelming. However, being able to care for ourselves is also empowering in the best kind of way. Although we may not be able to physically fix the problem, it’s wise to know there IS and problem and what to do.

Whatever you do today, don’t forget that your car could use a detailing. Mine sure did. It felt good to dispose of empty water bottles, dust bunnies, and dog hair. With just a little vacuuming and elbow grease, my Barbie Jeep looks like she just rolled off the showroom floor. Now, that’s something positive!

More tomorrow.

I hate the news. Any kind of news broadcast these days has me yelling at the television within a few minutes. I try to avoid watching. It’s healthier that way.

Recently, while hanging out with the Mysterious Marine, the television is often on during news broadcasts. It’s been quite awhile since I have listened to scripted and opiniated shows from beginning to end, so I listen with the intent of finding some news during the show.

Thinking back to the 1900’s, news was news. Period. There were very few news shows, most running no more than 30 minutes. In my country town, there was 7:00 am news, 6:00 pm local news, Walter Cronkite, and the 11:00 pm news. These shows broadcast real news. This happened today. This happened yesterday. These things are scheduled to happen tomorrow. Very simply, facts were shared.

One of the saddest parts of the 6 pm news with Walter was the last sentence of every single broadcast. In that last sentence, he would announce how many soldiers died in Vietnam the day before. Chilling, it was the reality of the day. The news shows were full of news.

Fast forward to today.

O.M.G.

Oy Vey.

Holy Moly.

In every single story, at least once, a reference is made about something that COULD happen, MIGHT happen, is POSSIBLE, or a probable MAYBE, but not a certainty. Never is a suspect really described. Just last weekend, two humans broke into the Apple Store in the town to the west stealing everything they could grab.

Of course, in the stories about flash robberies, its always added that no one was injured. That doesn’t even make sense. Being robbed at gunpoint is a terrifying experience, I’m pretty sure. Luckily, I’ve never been robbed at gunpoint or otherwise, but if it happened to me, it would take some time to recover. No. No one one’s injured in the Apple Store “Grab and Dash” done by two humans that raced away in a black car. By the way, if you know something, please send in a tip.

The next time you listen to the news, really listen to the qualifiers on what COULD, MIGHT, POSSIBLY happen MAYBE even tomorrow or the next day. None of the actors and actresses on the show would ever stick their necks out to give a definitive. It’s easier to suggest.

These words are in every single story broadcast from the bigger tourist town to the west. I wonder if our channels are worse because we ARE a tourist town. Tourists come to relax and feel safe. Believe me, the town to the west IS wild and far from safe.

Another thing I noticed is that, in our area, the actors and actresses that read scripted words are now dressing more conservatively. On our “broad”casts, they couldn’t have worn much smaller clothing. These days they wear long sleeved dresses showing very little of their décolletage. How refreshing. It’s almost scary how many changes I’ve noticed since reintroducing myself to the news.

Remembering the 1970’s and breakfast before school with my parents, the news blared over the radio. Every farmer in the valley was turned to KMJ — 580. An AM station, it always had farming news in the early morning hours. There they would discuss all things farming.

“We’re experiencing a heat wave. Yesterday — 105. Today — 105. Tomorrow — 110 “, the announcer would say. He could have used any number over 100 degrees from May until November and been pretty close to accurate. No rain. No cooling winds. Not a cloud in the blue-grey sky. Pretty easy to be the weather guy in Fresno. Three months of fog. Nine months over 100 degrees.

Of course, you can find humor in the news. Just listen carefully, identifying the ways you won’t die. Falling off a cliff at the Grand Canyon while backing up for a photo. In a plane crash while flying a jet in an air show. In a car crash at the end of a high speed chase. Death by cop. The list goes on and on. When there’s very little TRUE and PERTINANT news anyway, it can be fun to eliminate ways we will exit the earth. I’m quite sure I won’t die being trampled by the bulls in Pamplona……… Just sayin…….. Now shark bite in Hawaii?? That’s another story……..

As for finding real news these days, it’s easier to not be concerned. If there is a major disaster, I’m sure we’ll all hear about it.

Such as the volcano on the island of Hawaii. Funny thing. Just when I’m planning a June trip, one of the main islands is spewing lava. There COULD be a message in this. It MIGHT be all done by the time June rolls around. Quite POSSIBLY, it COULD be spewing more lava by that time. Or, quite POSSIBLY, it MIGHT be all done. MAYBE I should just stay home.

Wait…..

What??????

I don’t think so.

Don’t let FEAR interfere with your FAITH and life’s journey. I plan to hula my way through a wonderful vacation. Besides, there are other islands that AREN’T blowing up. YET.

More tomorrow.

PS–Forget the news. Get out and enjoy the last few days of Autumn. We only have three weeks until the winter solstice!!!!! Not MAYBE. That’s a fact.

I hope your holiday weekend was as delightful as mine. Reflecting upon Thanksgiving 2022, I can’t think of another thing that would’ve made it more relaxing, fulfilling, and complete. This Thanksgiving, I enjoyed the company of new friends and family that have come into my life. Connecting with old friends, memories were shared while we laughed at beautiful moments of the past. It just doesn’t get better than that.

I do hope you didn’t run into any turkey shortages. In my little town, the grocery stores had plenty for everyone, with some left to spare. Although Butterball Turkeys were a little harder to find, if you wanted a bird, you would’ve found one.

Holiday dinners for those that needed them were passed out with love and care. The Christmas Child Boxes were shipped off to their destination in Colorado, where they will be sorted and then sent around the world. All this activity completed and December isn’t even here yet!!

Thanksgiving Day was a time to discover more details about the Mysterious Marine from the woman that raised him and the woman he raised. Two sides to every story, these two sides featured the man in the middle that we all think is a pretty cool guy. As we stuffed ourselves with the meal he cooked to perfection, it was lovely to sit and talk to the people he loves the most. A rare treat to listen to stories about the past antics of this family member or that one. So much laughter my sides hurt. So much happiness, my heart was overflowing.

But the weekend wasn’t complete. The Mysterious Marine had planned a very special night for us.

But first a little back story.

For a time in my life, I was the Science and Math teacher for a continuation high school in Central California. I must have been pretty good, because I became our District’s Secondary Teacher of the Year during my time at that site. During that time, I held an afterschool writing group for five young ladies that would’ve crawled to write even if their legs had been chewed off by wolves. We were an amazing team of writers, always preferring to write on the edge. Never falling off the edge, we wrote about the topics that filled our minds and troubled our hearts.

At that time in their lives, they were all entering the dating world. I would lecture them on what constitutes a REAL and WORTHY date as they would share their stories. I came up with a list of five “MUSTS” with which to start.

1. The potential date must first ask if you are available. You can say NO.
2. The person must come to your door at the time on which you agree.
3. The person should be dressed appropriately. Even better if person brings flowers.
4. The person should have made all arrangements for date, including payment at the end.
5. The person should deliver you back to your home in a better state than when he picked you up.

Now, when first hearing this, these students looked at me like I had two heads. I did understand their point of view. These rules WERE from the mid-century 1900’s, but why fix something that isn’t broken. Right?

Fast forward to my own dating life as a widow in 2022.

I’d abandoned my own rules for dating until the Mysterious Marine showed me that chivalry is not dead. According to the internet, When it comes to dating a true gentleman, chivalry is not dead. With this kind of man, you can be as girly as you like and he is there to support whatever you are doing. He will even find out which is your favorite movie and take you to the cinema to watch it together.

Making plans for a complete date to the big town to the West, he knocked it out of the ball park. Rules #1 – #5 — Check. Check. Check. Check. Check.

Fancy Schmansy dinner overlooking the entire town below at twilight. Check.

Romantic conversation. Check. Check.

An VIP Fan Experience listening to the famous comedian, Ron White. Check. Check. Check.

I was overwhelmed with appreciation for being treated to such a beautiful date. One of a handful I’ve been on in my 66 years, it made a memory I’ll never forget. Asking someone out on a real date and then following through is a lost art. I’m so glad that MM thought of it. I can’t wait for the next.

With Thanksgiving in the rear-view mirror, the focus will turn to putting the finishing touches on Winterpast. It’s time for Ollie and I to snuggle in while watching all the Christmas movies we love so much. It’s time for holiday shopping, fun, ribbons, and wrapping. Time to enjoy the season with old friends and new ones. Time to reflect and learn more about the reason for the season.

We should all remember, it’s not money that brings happiness, nor a big fine fancy car. I have everything a woman could want, even more than I could ask for. Life in this dusty little town on the high desert of Northwestern Nevada is just some kind of wonderful. Yes, it is. Some kind of wonderful, indeed.

More tomorrow.

You know there’s a light that glows by the front door
Don’t forget the key’s under the mat
When childhood stars shine
Always stay humble and kind

Go to church ’cause your mamma says to
Visit grandpa every chance that you can
It won’t be wasted time
Always stay humble and kind

Hold the door, say “please”, say “thank you”
Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie
I know you got mountains to climb
But always stay humble and kind

When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you
When the work you put in is realized
Let yourself feel the pride
But always stay humble and kind

Don’t expect a free ride from no one
Don’t hold a grudge or a chip and here’s why
Bitterness keeps you from flyin’
Always stay humble and kind

Know the difference between sleeping with someone
And sleeping with someone you love
“I love you” ain’t no pick-up line
So always stay humble and kind

Hold the door, say “please”, say “thank you”
Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie
I know you got mountains to climb
But always stay humble and kind

When it’s hot, eat a root beer popsicle
Shut off the AC and roll the windows down
Let that summer sun shine
Always stay humble and kind

Don’t take for granted the love this life gives you
When you get where you’re going don’t forget turn back around
And help the next one in line
Always stay humble and kind

Thank you, Tim McGraw

Well, tomorrow the fun will begin. A 20 pound turkey is defrosting on the Mysterious Marine’s counter. The day will be filled with the search for the proper serving bowls and crock pots to keep the cold things cold and the hot things hot.

I’m in charge of making the pies, and I must admit I’m a little nervous. MM is a top notch chef. Just last night he made a fantastic dish out of three chicken breasts, a little cream, some wine, and mushrooms. With a few other secret ingredients, the most wonderful dish was served over penne pasta. This man can take anything and make a feast. But, I’ll share his one weakness in the kitchen.

Baking.

I need to pull this off. A woman that cannot bake a pie just spells HOT MESS. The crust cannot be doughy or burned. The filling cooked to perfection. I’m making two. One pumpkin and one apple. If I start this morning, I’ll have lots of time for do-overs. This mission cannot fail.

Today, whatever you do on this crazy Thanksgiving Eve, find some moments to show true kindness to another. This crazy world needs more Hello’s and Hugs. We all have so much for which to be grateful. Bake on. If it doesn’t work the first time, try again!

Happy Thanksgiving Eve! I’ll be back on Monday!

Sunday afternoon, amidst a sea of entertained patrons, sat one awe-inspired Granny.

Me.

The young man in the center of the photo above is my 18 year old grandson. He’s been everything a grandson could be from the very start. Adorably cute. Thoughtful. Loving. Sincere. Hilarious. Spiritual. Cherished. Sensitive. Smart. Charming. The list goes on and on with this young man now towering well over me at 6’many more”. Of course, all my family is taller than me. I’m vertically challenged, for sure.

This wonderful grandson works full time, goes to college, and acts. And boy can he act! It’s his passion, along with singing and dancing.

Memories take me back to the theater of long ago, when the decade was much younger and I was still a wife. I’d seen an announcement requesting actors to apply at the local theater. This place was far from professional, but focused on family fun. With a few visits, VST and I were thespians. The difference between the two of us is that VST immediately got cast in not one but two leading parts. Just like that, our off hours were spent learning scripts in a broken down old dance hall. For a magical time in our lives, VST became the voice of the Golden Chain Theater.

One special evening, K brought two very little grandsons to the theater to watch their grandfather portray a really rotten guy who owned a very large sword with which he gracefully danced across the stage while fighting with another. Buck Badam aka VST. Who new the quiet and reserved Dr. VST could turn into such an outrageous villain? The boys never looked at their Papa quite the same after that.

Years later, an older version of that grandson stood singing “Amazing Grace” through heartfelt tears at his Papa’s memorial. So young. So brave. So tender. So together. His voice rang out to the heavens on that, the saddest of days. Barely having the ability to speak that day, I was in awe of the strength he possessed even at that young age.

Well, move over, because the real Gaston has come to life. On Sunday afternoon last, Gaston absolutely stole the show. Singing solos with his booming voice. Charming the ladies on the set and in the audience, he was syrupy and conniving one minute and then vile and intense the next. When he was on stage, he took over. He was Gaston as I was carried back in time on a cloud of memories. It was as if I was watching past and present moments in one. “Buck Badam Meets Belle”.

In this day and age, it was refreshing to see adults expressing themselves through song and dance while entertaining the audience. The sets and costumes were of the best quality. But then, this theater is the gem of the Central Valley having produced the likes of Audra McDonald and other’s that’ve made their way right to the top of Broadway. Their productions span the last 50 years, always of the best quality.

“Beauty and the Beast” is a fairytale. After the disastrous play in which the Mysterious Marine so graciously accompanied me, I was worried. Would MM never attend another production with me? Were plays off the list forever? A true man’s man and Marine, would he fall asleep during this child’s tale and wake up when it was over? I shouldn’t have worried a bit. MM was as taken as I was. We were transported into the fairy tale until the end. When Gaston changes to another character in a future production, we’ll return, front and center.

At the end, with everyone clapping politely, I had to stand and shout out a “Way to Go, Jeremy!” Feeling like he had given everything in his Gaston playbook for his Grandma, I was overwhelmed with pride.

It’s true. The past is made of bits and pieces of beautiful memories. The future holds mysteries yet to unfold. But the present moment is an amazing thing. Grandchildren reflect past influences and project future possibilities. Some just sparkle in the moment as they dance across the stage of their lives. If you have that kind of grandchild, you know. Those of us that do are indeed very, very fortunate.

Going back to past home and life can be draining. Ghosts pop out of nowhere. Lunch with friends at my high school cafeteria. Piemonte’s on a date. The Chicken Pie Shop with my mom. The ranch. Orange trees ripe with fruit. The boring grey-blue sky with not a sign of weather. The flat terrain. All amidst a sea of grapes and other crops. Returning to my childhood home is never without a price. California holds more of my heart than I’ll ever admit. It feels good to return to Winterpast and my true present.

Spending the weekend with my oldest and best-est girlfriend while watching her interact with my newest and best-est boyfriend was golden. Making Memories of Us continues with laughter and new experiences. The Mysterious Marine received a glowing report from the woman I trust with my life. Feelings were mutual. It just doesn’t get better than that.

Thanksgiving is just days away now. As the year is racing towards the end, I want to slow time during the next weeks and enjoy every part of this, the most beautiful time of year. Christmas boxes await unpacking. Decorations need placing. Pies need baking. Through all that, the reason for the season is front and center. Not Santa Claus or the prettiest tree. Reasons to celebrate live in the heart. It’s my favorite time of year.

Whatever you do today, try not to get too frustrated with chores and an endless list of chores in preparation for family and friends. Take some time to reflect on the past months. This year has been full of lessons, miracles, and memories too numerous to count. Life is beautiful.

More tomorrow.

Throughout life, you will encounter numerous individuals, but true friends are the people who never leave. They’re the ones who are always there for you and remain by your side no matter what.

They’re the people you stay up late with, discussing the infinite issues the universe has plagued you with. The kind of individuals you divulge your most cavernous secrets to, simply because you’re certain they’ll safeguard them forever. They would never gossip behind your back, because if they had something to say, they would say it directly to your face.

They’re the kind of people who always offer a shoulder to lean on, while simultaneously reminding you how awesome you are.

True friends are the sort of people you can be unapologetically foolish with, while remaining completely oblivious to the judgement of others, whether that means singing out of tune to your favorite pop song or spontaneously dancing on elevated surfaces wherever you go.

They always have your back, whether it means peeling you off the ceiling when life has done you wrong, or being the wind under your wings as you try to get off the ground and fly again.

They’re the people who never give up on you and continuously encourage you to strive for the moon. They’re the ones who will wipe away your tears when someone has broken your heart or caused you immense pain.

The type of people you can go days without seeing, and pick right back up where you left off as if no time has lapsed. They’re the first individual you call with good news, merely because you know they’re the people who will genuinely be happiest for you.

True friends never allow an argument to overshadow your friendship, and are always forgiving when you’ve done or said something you shouldn’t have. They aren’t the kind of individuals who hold grudges or remind you of the mistakes you’ve previously made.

They’re the ones who give the most exceptional advice and know how to instantly make you laugh when life becomes unbearably brutal. They’re the kind of people who always show up when they’re needed, preferably with a bottle of wine in hand.

They’re the ones you create unlimited inappropriate jokes with, continuing to laugh regardless how tired they become.

True friends are always honest with you, even if the truth is difficult to hear. They value your opinion above anyone else and sincerely seek your guidance throughout moments of insecurity.

They’re the individuals who you spend hours talking to, mindlessly unaware of the amount of time which has passed.

They’re the ones who make your friendship a priority, never permitting anything to come between you both. The kind of people who saturate your world in pigmented shades of neon, rather than lackluster hues of grey.

Yes, many people will enter your life, but it is a true friend who will stick around long after the party is over. 

So perfectly written by Sandra Rose.

This weekend is going to be jam packed with travel, hugs, Ride or Die’s, memories, new experiences, tears, and laughter. Returning to ones home is always a time for reflection and the ghosts of years past. Going with my Ride or Die to see more Ride and Die’s will cocoon my heart as it aches, which it will. My heart will also rejoice that I am so blessed to have the most wonderful friends and family a girl could have.

No doubt there will be much to to write about next week. Every girl needs a break to collect her words. I’ll be back Tuesday to share all the news.

Whatever you do, celebrate your own Ride or Die’s. Call them and tell them they are. A girl can never hear that enough. A woman can never say that enough.

Happy Friday!!!!

“Happiness is not the destination, but a manner of traveling.”

Last night, the Mysterious Marine and Wookie came over for dinner. Simple enough. Spaghetti, French Bread, and a green salad with a side show. Throughout the visit, the entertainment was provided by two zooming dogs that couldn’t get enough of each other.

With each dog, one only needs to mention the name of the other to incite pandemonium. At my house, Oliver was jittery with delight while awaiting the arrival of his girlfriend. Running from the front window to the door, there was no containing him. All this excitement because he heard the the Mysterious Marine and Wookie were on the way.

The only time Oliver “talks” is when Wookie is involved. And talk he does.

“Woo. Woo. Wah-woo-dee-do.”

All in a soft lipped hound-y little way. Absolutely a show stopper. He never did this before we met her and doesn’t do it for any other occasion. Just for his heartthrob, Wookie.

On the other side of town, a quiet Wookie became frenzied at the sound of Oliver’s name. So fully of wiggles she could hardly stand still for the leash. These two are insanely happy when they are together. And, last night, they only wanted to do the Conga. Repeatedly and without music. They must have watched the video to get the idea.

Try as I did this morning, I attempted to attach the video that plays with the still photo above. The dogs dance round and round the room to a rough version of the Conga song. Google it. It’s good for a laugh. The still photo, however, does give a visual for last night’s canine activities in full view of their two owners.

Now I understand. They only wanted to Conga! Well, who doesn’t? It’s a great dance!

Dogs teach us a few things about happiness. It’s the path, not the destination. Oliver follows his nose on his many adventures while followed by the cutest puppy butt and wagging tail. In the moment, he lives his life. He gardens the natural flowers of happiness in his own little soul. Happiness. When he’s with Wookie, sheer bliss.

Dogs live their lives fully in the present. We’d be wise to follow their example from time to time while remembering this:

The Past is History.

The Future is a Mystery.

The Present is all we have.

Accept it and keep moving forward.

As the dogs zoomed around the rooms, running in and out the doggie door, they were the embodiment of bliss. For the two, there is room for no other. Just a constant conga line for two.

When the night came to an end, Oliver was spent. He found a cozy spot near my feet and fell fast asleep to dreams of the next time he’ll be with HER.

As a side note, preparing dinner for the Mysterious Marine created an evening of fresh, new memories. It doesn’t matter whether the meal is Filet Mignon or simple Spaghetti and Meatballs, just like happiness, it isn’t about the food on the plate. It’s about quality time spent together with true friends.

As the days go by, MM and I continue to know each other more through honest communication, laughter, and respect. They say dogs often look and behave like their owners. I must admit, we are a pretty happy pack of four these days. No denying that.

With Thanksgiving preparations underway, I’m grateful for so many things. The biggest change in the last year is that, in my summer of miracles, God has graced me with more friends than I’ve enjoyed in my entire life. For every prayer I sent to the heavens on my loneliest days, he has granted me love and fellowship. True friends that are “Ride or Die’s”. I’ll speak more on that subject tomorrow.

Today, whatever you decide to do, you might start shopping for your Thanksgiving dinner. Yesterday, there were only two fresh turkeys in our meat counter. Tuesday, the deli at which we enjoyed lunch had no turkey for sandwiches. This turkey shortage might really be true.

Remember, if you don’t do anything else today, please Google the “Doggie Conga”. What the heck, throw your own Conga party. Life is short.

More tomorrow.

A trip to California can be a time for conversation and great scenery. In these parts, it always involves a drive over Donner Pass at the top of the Sierra Nevada’s. Yes. The very Donner Pass where, in the winter of 1847, a group of 87 pioneers were caught in a November snowstorm. By February, only 48 people remained. I’ll leave the rest to your prior knowledge and imagination.

Oliver’s girlfriend has spent the last week enjoying balmy days in California. A girl on a mission, it was necessary for her to have a few days away to visit an old love. Please don’t tell Oliver. His little soul would be crushed. The truth is, her heart has been promised to another and this “other” lives in a small town in Northern California. The Mysterious Marine and I took a road trip yesterday to bring her back home.

I shall give this girl the name “Wookie”. A little derogatory when used to describe a female marine, the name fits her perfectly. (You all know I never use REAL names). Wookie is an Aussie-Berne-Doodle (Australian shepherd, Bernese Mountain Dog, and Poodle). In short, a very desirable and valuable dog. But, her breed description doesn’t describe her true talent. Wookie can smile. Not just a little. At her happiest times in life, she absolutely smiles a deliberate broad and wonderful smile while wiggling to get in your lap. She is the happiest dog in the world. He smiles are appropriate, contagious, and human. She saves them for occasions that deserve them.

While away on her visit of love, far from home, she was accused of a crime most foul. MURDER. Having been found with a few feathers in her mouth, it was deduced that she had dispatched a chicken while on her visit. Her welcome was suddenly cut short because, of course, she was marked as one of “those” dogs that couldn’t be trusted around feathered friends. In horror, it was important that she leave as soon as possible, hence the quick trip to California.

All things considered, there isn’t much to report about the trip itself. The bluest of skies. Crisp, cold temperature that warmed up to California sunshine on the other side of the pass. Trucks, trucks, trucks, and more trucks. Terrible roads. Hours spent talking about this and that. In a flash, we arrived to be greeted by four or five dogs of varying sizes. The only thing they shared was the intensity of their energy as they jumped in delight.

Upon our arrival, I noticed a puppy to the side of the yard pulling the stuffing out of a toy. At least, I believed it was a toy. How often I’ve snatched stuffed toys from Oliver, always a little too late. What is it about the squeaker in the middle? Is it puppy crack? Well across the yard, the adorable little dog was too busy to come and greet us. We were too interested in finding a bathroom to investigate just what it was that captivated the little guy.

On a mission, we were there to pick up our girl and hit the road. With no one home except the dogs, it was easy to focus.

Until we went back outside to leave.

It was then, the horror of the moment was realized.

There

had

been

another

murder

of

a

feathery

kind.

While no feathers had been present when we went in the house, a few short moments later, there were feathers over the entire yard. The residents of the coop across the drive were in shock. Another friend was gone, never to be seen or heard from again. Lucille had vanished into a puff of fluff, her cluck never to be heard again.

And so, the “Who Done It” began.

Quickly, it became evident.

Wookie’s lover held one lone foot in his mouth.

Lucille’s foot. One single three-toed reptilian foot.

Just like that, the murder was solved. The murderer identified.

With a sternness only found in a true Marine, the foot was retrieved, along with a few other body parts. It seems the littlest of the pack hadn’t been tearing about a toy after all. Let’s just leave it at that. Crime starts young.

The best news of the day is that Wookie had not one feather in her smiley little mouth. She was the perfect lady, certainly not responsible for the earlier killing for which she had been accused nor the present blood bath. We knew she wasn’t capable of such a heinous act as only a loyal dog parent would.

After cleaning up the crime scene, the three of us hurried back to the other side of the mountain where chicken is what is served for dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy.

RIP little chicken. Over the Rainbow Bridge, you go.

More tomorrow.

These days, I have plenty of time to spare in my role as the re-re-re-re-tired teacher. Of course, I’m back to the point of wondering how I accomplished everything that needs doing while working. The answer is simple. Prioritization and organizational skills. It’s much more fun to choose random and important activities that come along. Yesterday was just such a day.

In the morning, help was needed to sort cans for the food drive. It’s amazing how many people just clean out the cupboard, forgetting about expiration dates on the cans. Although many expired cans are consumed in my own home, they can’t be given to people in their Thanksgiving boxes. Yesterday, 3 shopping baskets of food needing sorting.

The food drive is heartwarming in every way. The entire community is stepping up to the plate. A men’s group is holding a dinner at the firehouse from 11 -3. “Turkey cookers” are needed. I can certainly turn on my cooker for the cause. Then, the church is holding a dinner for singles at 3:30. Food for Thanksgiving boxes is rolling in. There are cases of cranberry, green beans, boxes of mashed potatoes, and jars of gravy stacking up in the sanctuary. Everything is sorting and awaiting the boxing and delivery days to come.

150 needy families will be very happy on Thanksgiving. People that might have needed to change the traditional meal to something less expensive will indeed enjoy a turkey dinner with all the fixin’s.

There is a wonderful group of people in this area that formed a group called “The Desert Pigs”. About five years ago, the trash in our desert was visible everywhere. It seems some people (true pigs) find it okay to back their truck up to some sage brush and empty out their discards. While totally illegal, it is also downright disgusting. A group of people came together to make it their mission to clean up the desert. Just a random group of people with time on their hands. The Desert Pigs are a great group who donated three shopping baskets of food to our cause.

Small communities take care of their own. That’s just what we do.

Sometimes churches don’t have members that are moved to be helpful. There are no food drives. No community participation. No Christmas boxes for needy children around the world. No sense of giving or empathy for those in need. I’m so blessed to be a part of an active church community that is the exact opposite.

After two hours of sorting out life (with wonderful conversations) and expiration dates (someone donated the opened BBQ sauce right out of their frig– given with love, but not appropriate) our task was complete, and I returned home to my own projects. The two hours given freely energized me for the rest of the day.

At 5 PM, I returned to the church for my second session of volunteering. This time, we were collecting boxes for Operation Christmas Child from surrounding towns and churches.

Each year, Samaritan’s Purse asks people to pack a shoebox full of small toys, socks, games, and any other great gifts as tightly as possible. These shoeboxes are delivered to churches all over the country. They are then shipped to a clearing house in Denver for final inspection and sorting. From there, these boxes are sent around the world to children along with an introduction to Jesus Christ. The boxes are filled with love and prayers and produce squeals and giggles of delight we can only imagine while also containing an important message of hope.

My name was the only one on Sunday morning’s volunteer sheet. The rest of the volunteer slots remained empty. With the possibility of 1,000 boxes coming from our town alone, this would make an impossible task for the man in charge of this mission. As it turned out, last night people came from other churches and one lady from a town 30 minutes to the East. Everyone had a willing heart, ready to do whatever was needed to accomplish this task.

Last year, there were 1700 boxes shipped from the entire Northwestern Nevada Region. Only 1700, grouped 15 in each shipping box. This year, our town alone has already collected 600. It seems this will be a very good year for Operation Christmas Child.

After volunteering twice in one day, I found I had some extra energy of my own last night. It felt so good to help in anonymous ways while never knowing the outcome. How many family rifts will be healed over the dinners we’ll pack? How many children will get a wonderful message of hope and love in a package prepared for someone in a home on the other side of the world? Goodness will follow all the items that passed through our hands yesterday. I must trust know that as absolute truth or my efforts would be worthless. I know this as an absolute truth. These items were given freely and out of love for others. Therein lies the true beauty of both projects.

Whatever you do today, find an organization that needs YOUR help. If you have an abundance of unexpired canned food in your pantry, donate a little to your local food pantry. An old blanket or two? Take them to the animal rescue in your town. Like kids? Buy a toy or two for the local toy drive. Visit the lonely widow or widower on your street. The opportunities to shine for someone whose light is dimming are endless. Find something to do and do it soon. As VST always reminded me, we can all sleep when we’re dead.

More tomorrow.