Author: Joy Hurt

December 26th. My, Oh My. It seems all year we wait for December 25th while buying gifts and planning meals. Dreaming of a White Christmas. Hoping for perfect presents under the tree. But, there is so much more to take away from the holiday. In the hustle and bustle, memories can get lost along the way.

Today, I’m writing about three good things I treasure and take away from Christmas 2021. Just another day in my world of writing, and yet an important day to reflect on things that make me truly happy. Things important.

As a girl, I remember my grandparents preparing plain brown paper lunch bags for the children in our little country church for Christmas Eve. Every child would have a bag filled with love and goodies. Back in the 1900 and 70’s, life was rolling along at a very comfortable clip. Everyone had everything. Televisions were blaring in the background. Rocking and rolling shaped the way our young minds were forming. Men’s hair grew longer while girl’s skirts got shorter. It was a confusing time for my grandparents.

Each was brand new when their parents arrived in Ellis Island with nothing more than the love of family holding them together. Fleeing from persecution in the Volga area of Russia, they had faced hunger, disease, and death of friends during their journey. Upon arriving to the United States of America, they faced prejudice and hatred. And yet, on they traveled until finally settling on a little farm in the San Joaquin Valley of California. Rich soil and wonderful climate led them to their version of God’s country, where they quietly lived out their days.

They lived through the Great Depression and World War II. They lived through sex, love, and rock and roll. They rode out the ups and downs of farm life, and through it all, love of family remained the glue that held them together when their world was falling apart.

Back then, I remember looking at the bags they prepared with puzzlement and I must say, a little disappointment. In the bag, was one perfect naval orange from their trees. Scrubbed and polished to a real shine, I only wish I could taste one once more. Surely a taste that doesn’t exist in our world today for their trees were vintage varieties. But, back then, I could eat as many as I wanted yet found them a boring flavor. Along with the orange, there was one Granny Smith apple. Not 100% sure now, I assume those apples grew from their trees, and were also, delicious.

Next, a handful of nuts, home grown, of course. A peppermint candy cane was added for good measure. Later, one small bag of M & M’s of the plain variety was added, because that was all that was sold at the time. That completed the contents of the bag.

I must say, most of my friends at church didn’t understand how special those things were to someone of my grandparent’s age. They had been through winters with nothing close to an orange or apple to eat. Nuts were a real treat. And chocolate? Only something found at the holidays. With some grocery stores today having long aisles of candy that stretch the entire length of the store, it’s hard to believe there was a time when sugar was rationed and sweets were only for very special occasions.

All the children of the church were counted, and then a few bags were assembled for those EXTRA’s on Christmas Eve. This was a big project for two little people on Barstow Avenue who remembered times when even an empty brown paper bag wouldn’t have been found. They put something else in each bag in the form of prayers and love for the kids and families of the church. My grandparents always had extra prayers and love to go around, those being more of the glue that held our family together.

This, the day after Christmas, I’m thankful for so many things. I want to remember the top three for 2021. In a house in which only a little dog named Oliver and I live, it might seem to some that true blessings might be scarce. Not so.

1. I’m thankful for God and my faith. Losing track of my way on so many days since April 8th, 2020, it was God’s love that carried me through. Without it and faith that things would get better, it would have been easy to just lay down and quit. My life now would’ve been quite different if my Great Grandparents had done that on their impossible journey.
2. I’m thankful for my friends and family. On the earthly side of things, this year has held many visits with new friends as well as old. Family has come to the rescue on more than one occasion with visits and good advice. They surround me with love and prayers felt every day. These days, forgiveness and love surround my heart, making my journey easier, while leaving excess baggage of sadness and grief along the way. I’m hoping it’s all biodegradable and lost to the wind.
3. I’m thankful for continued health and well being. Without that, life wouldn’t be as good as it’s been during the last twelve months. What a blessing to open my eyes each day and feel great. Ok. Ok. At 65, great is different than at 21. But, great it is to have avoided the dreaded virus and many other ailments that plague so many at my age. For goodness sakes, I’m older than VST now. If only his health hadn’t failed him.

Being thankful for those three things, I march onward towards Christmas 2022. What miracles will occur in the next 12 months? Only time will tell. What new friends will enter my story? That remains to be seen. What pitfalls will I avoid? What treasures will I find along the way? Will it be a bumper year for my roses or just so so? What about the attack of the toads? I’m not sure of any of that.

For today, I want to remain mindful that I am the luckiest woman to have such a rich and wonderful life. With the best memories of Christmas’s in the past, it’s time to start boxing up Christmas 2021. In a few days, we’ll enter a new year!!! Oh, the possibilities are endless!!

More tomorrow.

_{By Charles Wesley, 1739}

Hark! The herald angels sing,

“Glory to the newborn King;

Peace on earth, and mercy mild,

God and sinners reconciled!”

Joyful all ye nations rise,

Join the triumph of the skies;

With th’angelic host proclaim,

“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”

Hark! The herald angels sing.

“Glory to the newborn King!”

Christ , by highest Heav’n adored;

Christ the ever lasting Lord;

Late in time, behold Him come

Offspring of a virgin’s womb.

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;

Hail th’incarnate Deity,

Pleased with us in flesh to dwell,

Jesus, our Emmanuel.

Hail the heav’nly Prince of Peace!

Hail the Son of Righteousness!

Light and life to all He brings,

Ris’n with healing in His wings.

Mild He lays His glory by,

Born that man no more may die;

Born to raise the sons of earth,

Born to give them second birth.

Come, Desire of nations, come,

Fix in us Thy humble home;

Rise, the woman’s conqu’ring Seed,

Bruise in us the serpent’s head.

Now display thy saving pow’r

Ruined nature now restore;

Now in mystic union join

Thine to ours, and ours to Thine.

Adam’s likeness, Lord, efface

Stamp Thine image in its place;

Second Adam from above,

Reinstate us in Thy love.

Let us Thee, though lost regain,

Thee, the Life, the inner man:

Oh, to all Thyself impart

Formed in each believing heart.

Merry Christmas, Joy

_{by Placide Cappeau in 1843, translated by John Sullivan Dwight in 1947}

Oh Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior’s Birth

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

“Til he appears and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees; O hear the Angel voices!

O night Devine, O night when Christ was born

O night, O Holy Night, O Night Devine.

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming

With glowing hears by His cradle we stand

So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming

Here come the Wise Men from Orient land

The King of Kinds lay thus in lowly manger

In all our trials born to be our friend

He knows our needs, to our weakness is no stranger

Behold your King; before Him lowly bend

Behold your King; before Him lowly bend

Truly He taught us to love one another:

His law is love and His Gospel is Peace

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother

And in His name, all oppression shall cease

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us Praise His Holy Name

Christ is the Lord; O Praise His Name Forever!

His power and glory evermore proclaim

His power and glory evermore proclaim.

Merry Christmas everyone!! Have a wonderful day.

Joy

‘Twas two nights before Christmas, sparklin’ tree in my home,

As I sat in the hot tub, wishing for Shalom.

One stocking was hung by the chimney with care,

Sewn by me, when two small boys were still there.

Oliver nestled asleep in his crate,

Dreamin’ of doggie treats and how they’d taste great.

Later watching old movies, my nest feelin’ just right

I’d just snoozed off for restful sleep in the night

When my cell phone did rumble and ding with a clatter

From my Bestie, CC, checking on what was the matter.

I told her through words I was surely okay,

She promised to check in the very next day.

With the Christmas Star shining, what could make me so blue?

Two years you’ve been reading, widow’s grief’s struck anew

Again, with a movie my focus, trying to relax,

The cell phone complained, the quiet now cracked.

Just Sweet Daughter checking from so far away.

Always knowing how to read me, and just what to say.

“Things will be brighter, just remember the good.

Sleep well, time will heal your heart, it should.”

Hope, Faith, and Trust, I depend on tonight.

Santa is great, but these three do delight

My soul although weary, battered, and blue

Has Hope for tomorrow, and Faith comes anew.

When the phone complained again, just once more for good measure,

A new friend checked in. One more that I treasure.

Company tomorrow? Dinner brought to Miss Lazy?

“Can you check tomorrow?”

Wait…..

What???????

Am I crazy?????

After a night’s sleeping, I’m not near as grumpy,

Not feeling so blue and down in the dumpy.

Today will be one to get Christmas just right

With Hope, Faith, and Love, my spirit takes flight.

Down with the sadness, self pity, and blues.

Up with Carols, treats, and friendships true.

Thanks CC, Thanks Miss Firecracker, both of you know

When troubled about life, to you I go.

Thanks Daughter, TJ, and Cambria Goddess, too,

What would I do without my Christmas angels, You?????

Heart smiling, I’ll enjoy a great dinner tonight.

Christmas Eve and Day will be just right.

So Dash Away, Dash Away, Dash Away all.

Off to the grocery store, down to the mall.

Finish the wrapping with ribbons and bows,

With love for each other, happiness grows.

I send you this, My Christmas wish true,

Merry Christmas, Dear Friends, with love to you.

Thank you for finding interest in my writing while helping me get through my second Christmas as a widow. Your steady love, friendship, and prayers are helping me grow stronger every day.

Merry Christmas to you all. Joy

In these crazy times, it’s so hard to find a balance of truth and quiet. At every turn, the news media is forcing their narrative down our throats. Everyone wants our attention. Advertisements sell their idea of the perfect traditions, families, and thoughts. Drink this and feel better. Wear this while looking fit and trim. Come to our store for the best deals. I’ve found an answer to the noise. I simply turn the television to “OFF”..

Once upon a time, I had a television in every single room. All flat screens, neat and tidy, with their little control boxes at the ready. Hooked up to the latest cable companies, VST and I were slaves to the latest shows and the oldest reruns. A TV was always playing somewhere, while we seldom chose silence as a better option.

Sad to think of all the conversations in this world not happening because people are glued to the boob-tube. If you are old enough to understand that phrase, you know. For the youngers in my beautiful group of readers, a “boob” is another word for a foolish person. Televisions used to be run using cathode ray tubes. Television cabinets were actually pieces of very large furniture that housed all these tubes. Television repair shops sold a variety of replacement tubes. When one of your tubes burned out, a repair man could fix it and you’d be watching TV again.

The first television I remember was a thing of beauty. It sat in the family room, and we all gathered around to watch the grainy test pattern when we first got it. Just a greyscale pattern on the screen. Programing was limited to certain hours. Every morning, while eating breakfast before school, the first thing that played was the National Anthem, while the American flag was shown. It was a lovely way to start the day. The second thing was the daily news, which was actually good and bad news. Some stations did the same thing at sign off, when television stations actually stopped broadcasting for the night. In our town, for years, there were three stations. Not 303. Just three.

Before television, undistracted hours were filled with cards, board games, reading, and local gossip. Children had to make up games for entertainment outside in nature. Go figure. It was delightful to be sucked up into the beautiful world of the farm, always finding something fascinating to capture our attention. Oh, for one more day to find a horned toad in the powdery dust behind Dad’s shop, or a covey of quail to scare into flight.

These days, I find silence beautiful. Focusing on my own thoughts more clearly, I can decide what options make sense in my life, following the path that’s right for me. On a phone call over the weekend, a friend phoned to ask if I had seen the latest on the new virus. Actually, I hadn’t. Funny, my day was just great without knowing a thing about this new variant, which I fear no more than all the others before it.

“It’s so DANGEROUS! It’s AWFUL. YOU need to BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH.”

What? I need to what? Wear three masks? Hibernate? Take three, no four, no sixteen shots? I need to shelter in place? And quiver? Cease to live? Cover Winterpast in plastic wrap? I’m sorry. Not happening. All this conversation with someone that KNEW the vaccine isn’t something I’m medically able to take. Very insensitive.

Since April 8th, 2020, I have been choosing the best course for me. I’ve stayed at hotels and eaten out many times each week. I’ve even traveled. It’s called LIFE. I’d have lost out on my search to find happiness if I’d quivered in place. I’ve no plans to start quivering now.

For me, my plan of action is already in place. I’m fully mindful of the virus and ready to care for myself should I become ill. The same as in any other flu season, I’ve purchased all the supplies necessary to care for myself should I become ill. In this, the season of hysteria, there is one other decision I had to make. Should I become ill, I’ll ride out the storm accepting the consequences. I don’t expect anyone else to step in and save me. I’ll do my best and accept the outcome. Pretty simple. My personal and authentic plan, because, in my case, I have no other choice.

True friends enjoy dialogue and do their best to understand personal choices different from their own. Medical decisions used to be personal, between doctor and patient. Not something discussed and judged by casual acquaintances. Those were happier times, indeed.

Mindfulness is the basic human ability to be fully present, aware of where we are and what we’re doing, while not becoming overly reactive or overwhelmed by what’s going on around us. In my solitary little world, mindfulness is all I have.

The other day, I was sharing lunch with a new friend. After a delightful meal and conversation, we were leaving the restaurant when I put my glasses into my fanny pack.

“You DO know, fanny packs are terribly out of date, right?”

Well! Shiver me timbers. Consider me informed!!!!!

Funny, coming from a man who hadn’t shown much fashion forwardness up to this point. Even funnier considering the multitude of FP (Fanny Pack) choices available on Amazon. Someone, somewhere finds them useful. I guess I haven’t watched TV with the dictates for the latest and greatest purses for 2021. FP’s are a wonderful invention. Leaving both arms free, one can forget about the cumbersome aspects of a purse. Limiting the amount I can carry around by the small size, I find the FP one of the wonders of the world. I could really care less about the fashion relevance of my choice of purses.

Another great thing about the FP is that all possessions are attached to my body. As an easily distractible single woman, I won’t be leaving my purse on a counter somewhere when focusing on a cute associate. It could happen unless I’m fully prepared. Besides, it’s fun to be retro and out of step with the “NORM”.

So many preferences in my life are really not up for discussion. Certainly not up for the scrutiny of fashion police. I, for one, am starting the return of a fashion trend. Or not. Those of you that know me, know this is my truth.

By staying Mindful in a Mindless world, we can be our authentic selves with unique and individual opinions. I always find it refreshing to meet people that are following their own mindful preferences without giving too much thought to things dictated by present culture. An authentic mind is a precious and wonderful thing to behold.

Be brave today. Bold. Think of things that have gone by the wayside because of social dictates. Do something today because you love doing it. Not because it is expected, required, or prohibited. Choose to do YOU. That’s an important part of self love and we all need a dose of that every day.

Have a wonderful time counting down the days until Christmas. Enjoy something fun. Remember, it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Set your own trends. More tomorrow.

Sunday past, the last full moon of 2021 shone brightly. Known as the Cold Moon, this full moon hangs longer in the sky than others. Rising just days before the Winter Solstice and the shortest day of the year, the high desert Cold Moon shone brightly on the horizon as I waited in the parking lot on main for Sunday evening bible study.. My heart felt just like this Cold Moon, rather lonely up there in the heavens.

The winter and summer solstice refer to the shortest and longest days of the year while the spring and autumn equinoxes fall on days with the same amount of day and night hours. For me, the winter solstice is when I say Goodbye to my favorite time of year, while marching towards the longer days of spring. For me, it’s the long winter nights that are a big trying.

Through the next three months, the trees of Winterpast will continue to sleep deeply. Although they shudder in the high desert winds, any other sign of life is gone. Outlined with snowflakes at times, the back yard takes on a different beauty. On full moon nights, the outlines of the trees make a ghostly appearance through my bedroom blinds. Eerie shadows cause me to turn away as I fall asleep.

Yesterday, I experienced a magical event that made me think I’d lost my mind. Pogonip. Venturing out to visit a friend, when walking through her yard, the air was sparkling with floating glitter. So beautiful, I had to stop. Truly, I thought I had lost my ever-lovin’ mind. The faintest sparkles were hanging in the air like tiny diamonds, while swirling this way and that. I didn’t mention it until a little while after I arrived. No. It was real. It’s called pogonip, or freezing fog. I normally hate fog, but the next time this occurs, I’ll photograph it if I can. It was magical.

These long days of winter give me plenty of time to think and write. No excuses of broken sprinkler systems or grass that needs mowing to distract me . There is just Oliver, me, and the computer. Time for everything restful and quiet, with plenty of time to dig deeper into treasures hidden deep in my soul. Just like the trees outside, I need the darkness as much as the light.

That being said, there are those things that go thump in the night giving one cause for pause. The other night, I was chatting with CC about all the latest happenings here in the high desert when there was an alarming noise from outside. Not a thud. Not a slide. Not a bang or a snap. A dull noise made by something very, very big. Alarmed, I stopped the conversation and listened for a bit, finally writing off the event to something I thought I heard. It couldn’t have been real. I decided I was imagining things.

A few nights went by, with quiet being the signature sound coming from my neighborhood. It is so quiet, either in the day or night, that I can hear my heart beat in the silence. Rarely do I hear a stray voice or the sound of a hedge trimmer or hammer. Just silence. I’m often awakened in the night by the far away sounds of a lonely train zipping through town or Jake Brakes on the interstate. Once in awhile, a stray Top Gun jet might fly over on its way to home base, or a life flight helicopter racing someone to the hospital in the next town over. No barking dogs or bickering neighbors. Just peace and quiet.

Stray noises of the unusual kind do stand out, and sure enough, on that very dark night there was something very large right outside my bedroom window. Moving about, it was enough of sound that I grabbed the flashlight to find out, once and for all, what would be making this noise on my property, right next to my bedroom window.

After turning on my extremely bright porch lights while Oliver barked loudly, I proceeded outside, turning left to walk in front of my studio window. In the total darkness of night I saw nothing, which made me hold the Mag Flashlight as a weapon. Whatever was there would receive a bit of a headache if an attack occurred.

It was then that not just one but two mustangs came around the corner of my house. But of course!!! The Mustangs.!!! The corner of my fence and house make the perfect manger/windbreak. Relieved it wasn’t someone wanting to do me harm, I backed away, encouraging them to move on down the road. The quiet clippity-clop of their hooves on the blacktop fit the night as they disappeared into the darkness. They would need to find another place to shelter for the night. No room at Winterpast.

How lucky I am to enjoy Winter in a place so safe that I can go into the night to investigate a noise. What a blessing to live with majestic animals like the mustangs that choose us as their neighbors. Although I’m pretty sure I heard them grumbling as they left, I hope there were no hard feelings. They’ll be back soon.

Winter holds time to think and redirect. Time to envision new garden plans. Time for soup and yummy hot dishes. Time to sleep a little later in the morning and turn in a little earlier each evening. Time to cuddle with photo albums and smile at the happy memories made so long ago. Time to hope for new memories yet made and new friendships yet to be discovered. Winter is the loveliest of seasons.

Enjoy Winter’s first day. Have fun finishing your preparations for Christmas celebrations. Take the time to contact friends you haven’t talked to for awhile. Remember to stay warm and safe. More tomorrow.

On December 12, 2020, I gave testimony of my faith in a tiny little baptistery hidden behind four walls off Main Street on a wide spot on the road in the Northwestern Nevada desert. One of the most beautiful moments of life, I’ll remember it the rest of my days.

VST died during his 65 year. As if he knew he would never see 66, speed limit signs would always grab his attention. Don’t Pass 65. He’d comment on the signs often, almost as a warning that he wouldn’t make it, and he did not.

For the last six months, I’ve been attending Baptist on Main while falling in love with my church family. Such a caring group of people, I’ve witnessed prayer at work. There has been one inexplicable healing of a friend who has suffered from broken vertebrate for the last two years. Some would say time healed her. I believe it was God. Her pain was debilitating and constant. One day, she accepted a full and total healing from GOD. Whatever you choose to believe is fine by me. I believe in the power of God’s mercy and grace watching her broad smile as she comes to church, now pain free. A miracle in my eyes, she no longer wears her cumbersome brace. A testament to her faith and the miracle of prayer.

As I became a part of this circle of believers, their prayers for me were heartfelt. As the weeks passed, the fact that I was baptized as an infant in another little country church far away wasn’t quite enough for me. I made a conscious choice to become baptized as an adult.

Pastor C and I are friends. I look to him for answers as I travel through the confusing wilderness of widowhood. Prayers are a comfort while walking a widow’s journey through loss towards acceptance. Testimony about his wife’s recent illness and the miracle their family received is a beautiful story of strength, determination, and God’s grace. Although their struggle through illness is still very real and raw, her health is returning a little at a time, along with her smile. His strength and support to his church family during his own dark days is remarkable.

One day before Bible Study, on a bright, blue sky morning, I asked Pastor C if he would baptize me before my church family. We talked for a little bit and he agreed. He offered to baptize me on Christmas Eve by candlelight. Something about taking away the spotlight and meaning of the candlelight Christmas communion didn’t see right. Besides, I wanted to be baptized during my 65th year. December 24th would be eight days too late.

Baptism represents death, burial, and rebirth. Doing this during my 65 year was another part of healing. Each year, between July and December, I was two years younger than VST. It just bugged him. I would enjoy those days immensely, teasing him until December 16th rolled around. Now, I’m officially older than VST. He must be chuckling in heaven about that. I wanted my Baptism to be on my 65th year as a special shout out to heaven, and so, December 12th was the chosen date.

The week before, Pastor C teased me promising to hold me down a bit too long while making sure the temperature of the water was as cold as the grave. In my mind, I was thinking about what to wear in front of a room full of onlookers. Just what does one wear to a Southern Baptist Baptism when you are the center of attention? Someone had mentioned a bathing suit, but that seemed all too revealing.

It finally came to me. In the winter, I wear black long-sleeved turtlenecks under everything, adding additional warmth. I’d choose one of those and grey cotton shorts. Perfect for me.

The morning of the 12th, the chapel was pretty full. Visitors had chosen the day to see what Baptist on Main was about. Strangers and friendly faces watched as I went behind the door marked “Office” to change with help from Miss Willow. Alone, I slipped into the turtleneck and shorts, ready to climb some very steep steps up to the baptismal pool.

Entering the water, it was neither cold nor warm. Freshly drawn during Bible Study, the font sits in front of a stunning mural of a local lake. The bottom of the font isn’t visible from the chapel side, giving the impression that one is just sitting in water by the lake. When immersed, the person being baptized is visible to the church members through a window in the side of the baptistry as they go underwater. While I sat on a little seat built into the baptistery, Pastor C stood behind it, quite dry.

Although the entire event took less than a minute, it seemed like a lifetime to me. Pastor C prayed over me and then, quickly, I was under the water and raised back out. As I looked out into a sea of my new family, I was glad I was wet. Only Pastor C could tell my tears were mixed with the water in the baptistery. Just like that, I was baptized. Just like that, I became a new member of OUR church.

Quick as a cricket and down the steep stairs, I dried off in the office as Pastor C went on with his Sunday sermon. Wet headed, I rejoined the worship service so glad that I’d chosen this ceremony to publicly declare my acceptance of Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Somedays, Faith is all I have to help guide me through the wilderness of widowhood. Belonging to this little parish is another way I’m sinking roots into my desert home. It’s here I’ve belonged all along.

Back with the flock, the service ended. A friend asked if I’d join her for lunch at the local diner. Two others joined us and we had a delightful meal. Friends make life worth living. Returning home, chores were all still waiting, but so was a chance for a nap. Dying, being buried, and rising again is tough work, even if only symbolic.

That’s my story. Such a beautiful memory, mine alone. A day I’ll never forget.

Have a wonderful day today, whatever you choose to do. Fill it with happiness.

More tomorrow.

These days, there are online instructions for everything. How to change out a faucet, bake bread, train the dog, and even, guidelines for figuring out Love Languages. If you haven’t ever looked up that last one, you might consider it. Miscommunications in relationships can occur if you speak a different love language than your partner, friends, and family.

Information about Love Languages isn’t a new concept. I remember hearing a lot about it in the 1900’s. VST and I were a match with our LL’s, speaking the same dialect. Through the years, spending quality time together was our thing. I would’ve chosen time with VST while working on the worst farming project over anything or anyone else in the world. We were just matched that way. It helped in retirement, then finding ourselves together 24/7.

A co-worker found this confusing. In her opinion, VST could die, and I’d be left with no bosom-buddies. At that time, all of them enjoyed after-work activities while VST and I worked the farm together. It wasn’t really a choice. Farm work needs to be done whether it was 5 AM or 5 PM. That I could be happy spending time working with VST was a mystery to the group.

Now, he surely is gone and she turned out to be correct. There are many, many lonely days when I wish I had a gaggle of girlfriends with which to play. Slowly, I’m making a group. One thing is for sure. I would NEVER EVER trade the memories I made with VST for memories made with girlfriends.

There are five basic Love Languages. Christmas is a great time to research these, wanting to find the perfect gift for your someone special. In the early years, VST and I would wrap up gifts we thought would amaze. Usually we ended up spending a day after Christmas in the return line, our feelings a little bruised from the experience.

Finally, we decided that we’d make Christmas shopping a tandem event, selecting gifts while spending time together. Shopping for ourselves and each other on Christmas Eve morning, it was time to talk, laugh, and relax. Becoming our tradition over the years, it was those morning hours together that I remember now. I’d be hard pressed to tell you what we bought, but, I can remember the fun we had shopping together in empty stores because most of the town’s folk were already done. For both of us, Quality Time was our number one Language of Love. Receiving Gifts ranked last.

The following are the Five Languages of Love.

1. Words of Affirmation.
2. Quality time.
3. Receiving Gifts.
4. Acts of Service.
5. Physical Touch.

There are online quizzes one can take to discover in what order of importance they are for you. If you’re lucky enough to have a special someone, have them take the quiz too, while finding out how you compare. In the end, when everything else is said and done, beautiful memories are left with loved-ones when death comes. VST left enough wonderful memories to last until my forever ends.

This Christmas, think about giving a special memory to those you love the best. Plan an unexpected activity. Sing Christmas Carols. Go play in the snow or take a walk on the beach. Cook a special meal together, or just take a nice walk and talk about life. Making memories will never go out of style or be returned because it’s the wrong size.

For the next few days, I’ll be transforming into someone one a year older. Meeting up with friends, we’ll share meals full of fascinating conversation. Somewhere along the line, I’ll grab a piece of birthday cake and remember all the wonderful parts of being 65. 66 is ripe with possibilities of adventure. I can hardly wait to get started.

Have fun with whatever your week holds. I’ll check back on Monday to report on the happenings from my dusty little town in the middle of a wide spot in the road nestled on the high desert plains of Northern Nevada. Until then, make some new holiday traditions and don’t forget to enjoy the old ones !! Joy

Oh My. How is it that the craziest things can happen at the worst possible time? Growing up, it would involve plumbing issues during a holiday event. During harvest, a broken sprocket on the raisin-shaking equipment. A burst pipe on the spray rig when the mites were sucking our vines dry. Things just happen when you least expect them.

T and K came to visit on Friday. This is on the top of the list of the BEST POSSIBLE THINGS IN MY WORLD. They always come in with smiles and hugs, and then, we start talking just where we left off as if we live next door and visit every day. Being VST’s twins, they share and reflect all the very best parts of him. I am so blessed that they love me enough to come for visits. I’m relieved when they seem to approve of how things look around Winterpast.

In the afternoon, T went into Mr. Fix-It Mode and was helping with many little jobs around the house. The HVAC filter got changed. Security cameras were installed. And then, there was the issue of the Jeep air filter. I had just bought a replacement, and wasn’t sure where or how to install it. We were in the garage, doing this and that when it happened.

I’d been on one side of the Jeep, while he was at the workbench. Going to find something we were looking for, I miscalculated my route and ran into the bumper of the Jeep. No just a small collision. I was moving at a pretty good clip. Upon impact, there was a audible thud, and then, pain. LOTS. OF. PAIN.

Now. You must envision just WHO these two are. Sports minded, body conscious, nimble 45 year old people who can dodge incoming balls of any kind. They can jump and make baskets. Run without tripping on their feet. Very agile. Even K, with her bionic parts does not run into objects of any kind, let alone something as big and imposing as a parked Jeep.

Trying not to do anything more stupid, I immediately went to get my ice pack, ready and waiting for instances like this. On the couch, I just kept thinking, “Why today? Why today? Why today?” I do have one of VST’s canes left. I considered whether or not I would need it, further pushing me down the road to old.

T and K were kind. They were supportive. But, really? I wouldn’t blame them for considering this another step on the road to “THE HOME”. Days later, the leg is not working as the other. The bruised thigh bone is “talkin’ to me”, as VST would say about his aches and pains. A reminder that I’m not an observant walker, let alone a sports person.

The day continued with homemade Clam Chowder for dinner. By 8:30, we were all dragging, and decided to turn it. It was then the second disaster of the day occurred. Living alone, I ordered a “FALL AND CALL” system. If I FALL, it automatically CALLS the world with the push of a button. There are shower, pendent, and watch buttons. Buttons on the mother-ship unit that sits in the kitchen. Plenty of buttons in case one has a need to push them. Living alone, its a good device to have.

Never have I set the unit off accidentally. Never. In fact, having owned the unit for 1.5 years now, I don’t often even look at the pendent that hangs on my light. Never have I bumped the shower button. Racing around the kitchen, I haven’t accidentally hit the mother-ship. No. Not something that happens around here, until Friday night.

I was getting into bed, ready to fall asleep. The covers were just so. Pillows fluffed. Oliver was snoring in his kennel. I reached for the light. Somehow, some way, I hit the pendent just right. All of a sudden, the tiniest little ding began.

A tinkling little ding,ding,ding,ding……..

Then, I hear it.

FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. WARNING. WARNING. WARNING………….. It wouldn’t stop.

Now, I’d just had the leg incident. I was in my bedroom with the door closed. I needed to get my pajamas on before I could race to the kitchen to figure out how to stop the message.

T, just settling into a nights sleep, heard me calling for him to help turn off the machine. He thought I’d fallen in the bathroom. He started yelling for K, who was happily settling down in the guest room. I yelled to Tim, to try to stop the ambulance from showing up. Tim was not coming in the bedroom, worried that I was in some state of dispair and undress that he didn’t want to see. In the meantime the device had already left a message for CC, over in California that something was amiss.

Finally decent, I raced to the unit to find there is NO cancel button.

FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. WARNING. WARNING. WARNING…. It kept on for what seemed an eternity.

K to the rescue, just held down a button until a real voice answered, allowing me to tell her that it was a false alarm. It just wasn’t the way I wanted Friday to end.

I really love my life here at Winterpast. I love my independence and the fact that I don’t injure myself very often, except maybe when tripping over a dog bed or running into my Jeep bumper. I realize these are two check marks on T and K’s list for reasons to carefully consider a possible need for a move to “THE HOME”.

Since they left, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Functioning normally, I’ll save up my outrageous antics for the next version on “Geriatric Blunders With The Kids (Who Aren’t Kids But Adults). My leg still hurts like hell, not helping my bruised pride to feel any better.

Be careful. Injuries can occur when you least expect it. By the way, as an elderly person living alone, you might want to re-read the instructions for turning off your “Fall and Call” machine. You just never know when this could happen to you. With a gimp and a limp, I send you good thoughts for a happy today. More tomorrow.

Getting an earlier than usual start this morning, I’ve much to do today. Everything must be in tip top shape, because T and K are arriving around noon. I haven’t told Oliver yet, but he knows something is up. Snow fell for the first time yesterday leaving my little town looking festive, nestled under the surrounding mountains.

With clam chowder in the crock pot, I’m going to the beauty salon this morning for a trial run. I’m getting eyelashes. Not sure how this will turn out. I’m not going for the heavy, black gypsy look. Just something that looks natural. If your old like me, life can strip away natural lashes little by little. This morning I’ll find out whether this was one of my better ideas or not. I don’t know anyone else who has been crazy enough to do this, so stay tuned. It may be another “Lucy” idea.

Somewhere today, I need to bake a Sugar-Free Apple Pie. Trying to eliminate sugar anywhere I can, I often bake with Splenda. So far, every substitution I’ve tried has been delicious, so this will be a new one. Just a simple apple pie recipe using Granny Smith apples.

My grandmother’s apple pies are where I set my bar. It would be wonderful if I could pop back in time and walk out to her big old apple tree to pick 8 for my pie. From that tree, I would need only 4. My grandparents would laugh at the size of the apples, some approaching dinner plate size. No pre-cooking was necessary, because the apples baked down to a warm and gooey mixture of cinnamon, butter, cream, and yummy-ness, all wrapped up in a perfectly browned crust.

These pies would just appear in the summer, warm and fragrant. Grammie made it seem like it was nothing at all. I wish it were that effortless. Making a butter crust isn’t all that easy. And, then, there’s the mess afterwards. But, today, that’s on the list.

T and K want to visit Pastor C’s gun store to do a little Christmas shopping. I have lots of little fix-it projects for T while K and I visit. Our time together is such a blessing.

Tomorrow, I’ve dedicated the day to helping at the church. I can’t wait for the 8th Annual Christmas Dinner tomorrow night. With any luck at all, I’ll have some time to rest before arriving at 4 PM to help Miss E. I’m planning to stay until the last crumb is swept up in preparation for Sunday services and my Baptism.

Life is one giant blessing. At this special time of year, be sure to remember why we celebrate. Practice the TRUE meaning of Christmas. Help out where you can. Be kind. Smile. Sing some Christmas carols. Make a snow man. Hug someone special. Enjoy being alive.

I’ll be back Monday. Until then, stay safe and have a wonderful weekend.