Category: 2023

Last weekend, we celebrated an educational milestone for one exceptional graduate. A daughter, granddaughter, little sister, and friend. Completing 12 years of school is something worth partying about!

Before I get started on that story, I can’t help thinking about June 1973 and another young graduate. Me. While looking for Hallmark cards and graduation gifts, I remembered receiving my own Living Bible, written in language that I could better understand at the age of 17. In my own Orange graduation cape and black mortar board, I completed the first chapter of a lifelong love of learning and was ready to go on to the next.

That summer, I would fly off to spend the summer in Switzerland after having tragically lost my first true love to a heart attack only months before. In two months, I would gain 30 pounds, while eating my way through grief in the Alps. I don’t remember one person mentioning the word grief or pointing out the stages of the journey I’d go through during that first year. After all, I was a farm kid and farm kids get over things. Just pack the bags and off you go. After all, it was just puppy love anyway. Save your tears for the pillow and get on with life.

In comparison to my own graduation with honors, Miss Johnny Jump-Up learned through Covid during her high school years. Strong, resilient, self-assured, ready to meet the world, positive, and beautiful. It’ll be fun to watch her bloom during her college years. She’s a planner and already has her path mapped out. Watching her put the finishing touches on her beautiful party, I observed a much more mature this young woman is than I was at 18.

For her party, everyone came for near and far. Her aunts and uncles were there with bells on! The Mayor and his wife left a Mayor’s retreat in Ely, Nevada to attend the graduation in Northern California. Driving over 10 hours, it wouldn’t have been a party without them. Of course, they’ve loved her from the moment she came into this world. And, that is the true meaning of family. They would all do anything just to see her smile.

Wookie had a blast, returning to her California home. She never stopped running the entire time. Sitting by the pool and listening to stories about the antics of five brothers growing up in rural Nevada was so fun. Ping-pong-ed memories bounced back and forth, one tale bringing to light three more.

There were a few hot games of Corn Hole. After all, is a party really a party without??? As the beautiful California spring day turned into a comfortable spring evening, guests spent time catching up with old friends while getting to know new ones.

It’s a rare family that makes everyone at the party feel welcome and loved. That’s how I feel every time we’re all together. Whether Mother’s Day at my house, the Highschool Hall of Fame event last fall, or a graduation celebration in California. There are always plenty of hugs and smiles to go around. The respect and love they have for each other has been maturing over a lifetime. Honesty and communication keep the group tight. I wonder if they know how rare it is to find this in today’s world?

Our hosts (MM’s son and his beautiful wife) were amazing. With several guests spending the night, they never missed a beat. In the morning, we were treated to oven-baked bacon and farm fresh eggs from their very own chickens and ducks. Even the livestock were hospitable.

Over a plate of the best bacon I’ve ever eaten in my life, there were more stories and laughter exchanged as I realized, I’m part of their family, too. Everyone there made me feel so comfortable and wanted. I’m one lucky woman.

Weaving through the high Sierra Nevada mountains to return home, the conversation was easy under the brightest blue sky. With all the rains, the pine trees were healthy as they reached for the heavens. Taking the slow and windy road home was the perfect ending to a most wonderful celebration.

Whatever you do today, reach out to someone you know that’s graduated. Send them a card letting them know you applaud their accomplishments. Starting out as a tiny, little 5-year-old Kindergartener and years later arriving at the finish line of high school as a capable, young adult is a milestone to remember. Always has been, always will be.

More tomorrow.

Attempting to remain positive, I’m focusing on the good these days. There is good in every single situation, even when it means being locked up to wait for paving and meat. Yesterday was full of good and bad. Life is like that.

Now, the good that remains great is that I’m retired. No matter how bad the days get, they are always brightened by the fact that each moment of the day is mine to plan and enjoy. It took some time to accept that I’m on the young side of old now. My days of getting up at 4:30 and racing out the door are just a memory. I still get up at dark:30, but the racing about occurs later in the day.

Monday, I received a quiet note tucked under my mat. The message from Mr. John Smith was brief. “Please Stay Home on Wednesday, June 14th. Paving. Thank you.”

The road work in my little town has been unbelievable. Every pot hole and crack is being filled and replaced. Old roads are now repaired, adding to the great ride of my new car. Now more bouncing down the dusty road. We’re styling now. My neighborhood has needed road work for some time. Paving is in full swing.

Planning for Asphalt Lockdown, my focus was on relaxation and fun. I’d craft and watch a few more episodes of Clarkson’s Farm. It’s an English program about a gentleman farmer that decides to do the farming himself. 2,000 acres and a Lamborghini tractor. Didn’t know they made such things, as we always went with the green. John Deere all the way.

Along with the farming show, I’d throw in a good murder mystery and craft. I’m working on a miniature Chinese shop that folds away to look like a book on the shelf. Truly, one of the cutest projects I’ve ever seen, it’s one of those things that takes extreme patience while working on fine motor skills. I’d have lunch and dinner in. It would be a grand day, and for the most part, it was.

Last weekend, when visiting with the Mayor, the subject of beef came up. On the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, beef rules. Good beef. The kind that melts in your mouth. The Mayor had recently enjoyed that kind of steak and shared information about the farm. The rancher lived in a border town, too far away to drive, but I should really try some of his meat. Meat could be ordered online.

In this crazy world, thank goodness for the internet. Finding the cattleman’s website, I drooled over the fancy cuts of meat, settling on a brisket, a tomahawk steak, 2 filets, and 3 burgers. Pricey, they’d arrive by the evening of the third day. I’ve ordered meat before and never had a problem. Sunday evening, I pressed the “Purchase This Order” to begin the wait.

My order was filled on Monday and UPS tracking was available. It’d arrive on paving day between 3 and 5 PM. Perfect timing, as the paving would be complete. This was a delivery I’d be home to collect. Yummy. Yummy. Yummy.

To warn you, I’m about to get a little ranty.

With an alert from Alexa at 6:03 PM, I found a stained and soggy box on my doorstep. The UPS driver was RUNNING back to her truck and I was left with the goods. A bloodied box labeled with the ranchers name. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience.

Upon opening the dripping box, I discovered four bags of meat, one of which hadn’t sealed correctly. These meats weren’t properly drained, each piece of meat swimming in a bloody liquid. With an empty dry-ice bag, the meat was room temperature. My brisket, once lovely, was spouting large black spots. The four packages of meat were draped with environmentally friendly, biodegradable and very “GREEN” packing (resembling quilt batting), that was now soggy and bloody, as well. Room temperature, all.

My very expensive attempt to support a local rancher was now another problem to be handled with a letter requesting a full refund. How has our world turned upside down so quickly? Even a small town rancher trying to grow a business gets vital part of his business terribly wrong. Everyone knows, you have one chance at a first impression. You’d better get it right. This was a colossal fail.

I might add this. The shipping on the meat was pricey. Now, my kitchen needed disinfecting and I have the new problem of a bio-hazard disposal. My garbage day isn’t until next Tuesday. Nice. Nice. Nice.

Before bed, I decided to check my e-mails. At 9PM, the rancher wrote: “Oh my goodness, Joy. I’m so sorry. Your refund has been issued.” I checked. The refund was complete. That fast.

Ranchers have long hours. Raising cattle isn’t an easy job. I could only imagine a very disheartened cowboy reading my email and weeping. His response was immediate and so appreciated. It was just an unfortunate series of events that went wrong, ending up with a bloody box in my kitchen.

From now on, the only meat I’m buying is from the sanitary coolers at the grocery store or Costco. We might not have the biggest selection, but it’s chilled to the proper temperature.

My night ended with the peaceful sound of rain on the beautiful newly paved street outside. With daily rain, I feel like I’m living in Switzerland. Everything is desert lush and green. There are even desert wildflowers blooming here. We’re miles away from the current plague of the Mormon crickets to the East (as bad as any Hitchcock movie). Just the quiet of the night, serenaded by a passing train as I fell asleep.

Whatever you do today, think long and hard before you order meat from an unknown rancher. As well-meaning as they might be, mishandled meat can cause serious illness. If you happen to run into a rancher, thank them. Raising cattle is tough these days. Even tougher when an order goes wrong.

More tomorrow.

Even when living the best life, sometimes a girl just needs to get out of town. Booked at a newly renovated version of the room pictured above, I’ve spent the past 24 hours enjoying the most beautiful views from the 9th floor. I’ve munched on my favorite meal of prime rib dip, and then enjoyed room service last night while watching TV on a 65″ flat screen.

While here, I bubbled in front of wall to ceiling windows to the world outside. I found that a shower can have three shower heads, two of which are flush with the wall and shoot out at the person standing there. I’ve play I’ve also discovered that a marbled shower wouldn’t be complete with a steam feature, separate from the shower heads. I played with the automatic drapes and slept under the stars of this the Biggest Little City just to the west of me.

All in all, I feel like I’ve been the star of my own movie for the last 24 hours. Just me enjoying a grown up adventure all my own.

This weekend, MM and I are going to a Lamb Fry. I’m not eating, as the main course is Deep Fried Prairie Oysters.

Think about it.

Nope. No can do.

Unless it’s salad or beans, I’m not touching it. The picnic is a political function in which we’re going to see the first major speech of a major Presidential candidate. I hope to get some pictures and look forward to meeting people that make decisions for our state and country. All this will be held at the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada’s on a historical ranch. Check out the news this weekend. We just might be on television. I’ll be the one in red, white, and blue.

Whatever you do this weekend, star in your own little movie. Do something wild and crazy. It might even be as simple as enjoying a backyard picnic on a spring day. Write the script and then go for it. Do something you love and love doing it.

I’ll be back on Monday to fill you in on the weekend. I can tell you right now. It won’t involve eating wool puffs.

Some Saturdays are perfect for a picnic. The breezes keep the flies away, while beautiful clouds float across the bluest Nevada sky. Saturday was just that kind of day. Rather like it was special ordered, just like the wool puffs that were served to the brave. But, I’ll get to that in a minute.

Although this photo shows a handful of people, let me assure you, this event was sold out. 1500 attendees gathered to show there support for a young presidential hopeful. Not that he might have been everyone’s first choice, but, he certainly is an interesting guy. Young, handsome, a good dad and husband, and one heck of a governor. This guy has a bright future ahead of him. 1500 of us wanted to hear more from him.

Although the event officially started at 10 AM, MM and I left our town at 7. World travelers come from all over the globe to see the beauty we sometimes take for granted. Driving west through the high desert plains, we passed herds of wild mustangs towards the Sierra’s. The Eastern Sierra Nevada mountains are my happy place. Different in every way from the Western slope, the highest peaks are still covered with deep snow after this crazy winter. The runoff from this year alone could fill our reservoir three times and still flood the surrounding land. The Sierra’s haven’t looked like this for awhile. Switzerland-ish.

In the picture above, the tallest peaks surround Lake Tahoe and Heavenly Valley Ski resort, and others. This event was held at a historical cattle ranch that can be rented for such shin-digs. I was disappointed there weren’t more farm animals in attendance. Probably scared off by what happened to the lambs.

Wool Puffs.

“Wool Puffs” is a phrase I coined and you can’t have it. Normally, they’d be called Rocky Mountain Oysters. On Saturday, they were called “Lamb Fries”. The technical term is “testicles”. Yes. A side dish made from the the south end of male lambs, battered and deep-fried. Usually found in pairs. Crunchy batter with a center the consistency of liver. Not much taste. There is nothing about this that tastes like chicken, just so you know.

I didn’t stand in line to get my serving of one testicle. That’s all they were giving out. Even at one per attendee, it took 750 little lambs to feed 1500 guests.

Of course, MM DID stand in line and was quick to come back with two. Who could resist his smile? Not the gal serving up 1 wool puff per person. Bless her little heart.

Well, there was nothing to do but give it a try. Resembling a piece of fried zucchini, I insisted on taking only 1/2 a puff, leaving the rest for my Mysterious Marine who seemed to enjoy them.

I can now say that I’ve eaten a wool puff.

The event was sold out. Sunday’s Newsweek article claimed there were a handful of people there. They also claimed it was put on by the Veteran’s of Foreign Wars. After reading that article, I was more disgusted than ever at journalism these days. I doubt the article’s author was even there. Just stole some pictures off the internet and called it good. Probably writing from his basement with his mask securely in place.

Anyone that was there experienced a sense of the love of God and country. They saw Nevadan’s in their casual dress, eating green salad, fries, Chorizo, lamb stew and Sheepherder’s bread in a picnic setting. They’d have suffered through the hour long wait to get freshly scooped ice cream in one of four flavors. They couldn’t have helped tapping their toe to the music of The Jakota Wass Band.

His lyrics sum up country living here on the high desert plains of Nevada. Watching the energy of this band added to the festivities.

Whatever you do today, don’t believe everything you see on television or read online. Get out. See things for yourself. Make your own opinions out of real experiences. Stretch a little and listen to all the candidates. Watch their actions and make decisions from what you see them do. Our country is an amazing place we need to cherish and protect. It’s not too late.

** A special Happy Birthday to Miss Firecracker!! I hope your day sparkles!!!!! Celebrate YOU!!!! I love you.

More tomorrow.

The cutest wire formed into words hangs over my kitchen table. I put it there so each and every day I can remember my best friend, CC. She’s the one that gave it to me as a housewarming present three years ago. Two words. “CHOOSE HAPPINESS!” That’s something everyone in the world needs to do right now. Just sit down and be truly grateful for the blessings in our lives. Face it. No matter the trials we face, we all have an abundance of things for which be thankful.

You can’t buy a jar of “Happy” through Amazon. The biggest jackpot at the local casino won’t do it. Even living in the best house on the best street in the most wonderful desert town won’t do it. It sprouts from within. Very quietly at first.

Happiness strikes a chord in our heart when we find THE ONE THING we are supposed to do with our lives and do it. I’m finally healed enough to go on with my journey. MY ONE THING used to be teaching. It was my passion. A fire that never went out, but instead, was dwarfed by the flames of grief, sadness, and loneliness that’ve consumed me over the past two years. The time is now to search for new gifts and talents.

No one can leave a box of happiness on your doorstep. It doesn’t appear with prideful demands or expectations. It just happens.

There’s no measure to tell you when you’ve found enough. Like painting, a small stroke turns into a smear and pretty soon, everyone who sees you knows you’ve been painting the hallway. You might not even see it at first. Internal happiness oozes out like that and friends begin to notice a change.

“This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” _{George Bernard Shaw}

Now, isn’t that is just the best quote ever? “Feverish Selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy?” I just love that.

I intend to be thoroughly worn-out before I’m thrown into the scrap heap.

I refuse to waste another moment as a “feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making me happy”.

I choose to be a force of nature.

What affirmations! The only person who can turn on the happy is me. It’s a choice.

A year ago, I had the most wonderful lunch with three couples and a mom and daughter. Each individual couple carried heavy burdens. One couple would enjoy their mother on this earth only a few more days. One couple shared only three legs between the two of them. Everyone had scars from Covid. I was the “Plus 1/2” that no one wants to be. Each one of us had reason to dominate the table with tales of woe. But we didn’t choose to do that.

Instead, there we sat after church, brand new friends enjoying each other’s company. For two hours, we laughed, enjoyed our meal, and got to know one another. Even the teen daughter, who had ever right to be very unhappy due to the 50 year age difference between us, added humor to the lunch, enjoying little conversations with everyone at the table.

The man that had the best attitude of all had just had his leg amputated a few months before. With an infectious attitude of kindness and gratitude, he had us all laughing with his amazing stories during this most special lunch. It was an afternoon I will remember.

So, make a choice today. As VST would always say, “Fake it ’til you make it.” We all have our “somethings” that are unpleasant and painful. If we truly take inventory, we’ll see that the basket that holds our “beautifuls” overflows into a colorful puddle that can look a lot like happiness.

More tomorrow.

Good Morning,

I’m Oliver. I’ve heard there are lots of stories about me floating around the web. To set the story straight, I thought I’d wake up for a little while and let you know the truth about what goes on around here. I’m a 4 1/2 year old standard cream piebald wirehaired dachshund. If I let myself go, I can look like this.

Except that I have a liver-colored nose AND green eyes. I can get a lot by begging with my eyes. Have you heard about my MM? Well, he’s really a softy. I’ve trained him to give me treats after meals when I’m around. My girlfriend, Wookie, and I have that dialed in.

My favorite things include my frequent trips to puppy camp. Mom-Oh and I are so excited when it’s my time to go. Melissa, my friend there, always has great activities. I get to swim. Sometimes we even take pictures and I pose really cute. A couple of weeks ago, there was huge summer storm and Corine let me play in the rain. I always have fun at puppy camp.

Life around Winterpast is pretty cool. I let Mom-Oh think she makes the rules, but we both know I have her trained really well. She never forgets to prepare my food twice a day. When I stand at the pantry door, I get a Greenie. I have bones hidden all over the house. I try to keep them hidden because Mom-Oh trips on stuff. I want you all to know I really try hard to be good.

Sometimes, there are smells and sounds that are so interesting, I need to follow them. When the garage is open, I can’t help it. I just love running across the street to visit the neighbor’s house. This upsets Mom-Oh, but, a dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do. There might be badgers over there. Or TOADS. I LOVE toads.

Father’s Day, we were hanging out with my MM and Wookie. It was a great day. Wookie and I were “behaving”, whatever that means. Late in the afternoon, Mom-Oh had to go out for a minute and my MM was making dinner. I was more interested in the kitchen than the front door and stuck with my MM. Like glue. Like a shadow. He’s the best guy in the whole world. Wookie and I both know that. I guess Mom-Oh thinks he’s okay, too.

Anyway, there was chicken involved. I love me some chicken. My MM took a package and left the kitchen so I followed him. I mean, who wouldn’t.

C-H-I-C-K-E-N.

A few minutes later, Mom-Oh came back.

Now, I couldn’t hear everything, but let me tell you something. Mom-Oh was talking some smack about me. Yes she was. She might have even said some bad words. Something like, “How could he?” “He’s in trouble” She even said I was “ungrateful”. Yikes.

Mom-Oh and my MM started calling my name all upset-like. Well, I was right there waiting like a good dog. I heard them clapping and my MM was even whistling. I like it when he does that. It means, “Come quick, I have something to eat.” I waited like a good dog. My treat would taste so good.

After the front door closed, their voices got really, really far away. There were other voices, too. Like a lot of other voices. Kind of a party. Everyone was calling my name in funny kinds of ways. Wow. People are sure stupid. I was right there waiting for them and getting ready for some kind of treat. There was nothing else to do but take a nap until they came back. And, finally, they did.

Mom-Oh was telling on me to T and K. She was tuned up now. Something about me being the last dog. Well, let me tell you, I hope I am. Mom-Oh and I are a pair. Wookie is a great friend, but we can’t get carried away with any other dogs. Wookie and I have it pretty good the way it is.

Well, it was over an hour now. Even though Mom-Oh was sure mad, I could tell her heart was breaking. I know her pretty well, since we’ve been together 4 1/2 years now. We’ve been through some stuff together. I was getting worried, too. It was dark and I was ready to play with Wookie. Where was she? I wouldn’t bark because we’ve been working on “NO BARKING”. So, I waited quietly in the dark.

All of a sudden, the door by which I sat opened and it was my MM!!! My hero!!!!! I ran out of the garage so darn fast.

WOOKIE!!!

MOM-OH!!!

Where have you all been? I just followed my MM into the garage to put the extra chicken in the freezer. I thought he’d give me a treat for being a good dog. But, instead, I got trapped in there.

Well, Mom-Oh was pretty happy. She hugged me a bunch. She kissed me, too, on the top of my head. My MM gave me another treat!! Wookie and I did zoomies to make everyone laugh. Everyone was extra happy to have me back. I don’t get it. I was just waiting by the door the entire time.

I heard poor MM tell Mom-Oh he walked six blocks. I wonder what’s there? I might have to find out the next time we visit him. The neighbors all know what I look like now. I heard Mom-Oh and my MM tell them. It’s nice to be loved.

So, whatever you do today, remember two things. You can get a Greenie if you look really, really cute and sit nice. It’s all in the eye contact. And, if you follow someone for chicken, make sure you don’t get locked in the garage. It just makes everyone happier that way.

Thanks for reading.

Signing out,

Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall of the High Desert Plains of Northwestern Nevada

First things first, this is NOT an accurate picture of me. I have no piercings and don’t wear earrings.

I do, however, love polka dots in the summer time. With the Summer Solstice 2023 passing yesterday, I need to find my collection. Summer will arrive someday. When it does, we’ll go from our costal-like spring to desert bake. All in one day, most likely. For now, we’re still in the mid-70’s this week.

I need to get some things off my chest about Oliver. Sneaky little brat. After reading yesterday’s blog, I must agree. Every story has two sides. Let me tell you a little about mine.

Oliver came to me through God. There is no other explanation. VST and I looked and looked for months for the right dog. A few days before Christmas 2018, I found this little picture of Oliver on the internet. What a porky little DORK!! All his brothers and sisters had been snatched up, leaving him to hang out alone.

How much trouble could one little dog be? Really. He was 12 lbs. when we met him on Christmas Day in the parkin lot of a huge casino. With snow everywhere, I couldn’t even watch him walk. From the breeder’s arms to mine, into the truck, and home. On our long drive up the mountain sat one very scared being, trembling at the thought of the unknown.

I settled down by the time we arrived home.

Oliver grew up on the side of Mt. Davidson in Virginia City, Nevada. He looks a lot like the character, Falcor on the movie, Never Ending Story.

After 4.5 years together, I know some things about him and he knows some things about me. I have learned to accept his shortcomings, which are more than just his 4″ legs. On most days, we get along pretty good. But, no mistake. Oliver is a difficult dog. Sneaky. Stubborn. Persistent. Cunning. Adorable. Loveable.

It’s the adorable and loveable parts that keep him here at Winterpast. There are days when I wonder why I torture myself with this untrainable hound. Many days……… Through his puppyhood, it was MOST days.

Early on, I came up with the 3/4 plan. 3/4 of the time, I’m on call as HIS pet. I’ll do whatever he needs to remain happy. I’ll attempt to train him, while becoming more trained myself. I’ll be patient and loving. I’ll do my best to be a good dog mom. One week a month, Oliver must go have some fun at puppy camp for his mental health and mine.

Extreme? There IS something extreme about this. Life with Oliver 3/4 of the month.

Oliver comes when he wants. He might sit, but it’s hard to tell because he is so close to the ground. He pees outside, but only because he likes too, usually on the patio. He barks whenever he feels the need. He loves stealing things only to hide under the dining room table, where he’s quite safe. He has learned to beg effectively and incessantly for anything he wants. He attempts to counter surf, but so far, can only jump about four feet in the air from a standing position. Oliver is ON much more than he is OFF. It can be exhausting.

Sunday, as he told you, he disappeared. So many things run through one’s mind when their dog runs away.

WHY???

Was the dog food not tasty?

Not enough treats?

More ear scratches needed?

Or, is there just no brain matter in that little skull. Just the will to follow a scent.

With Oliver, the last thought is probably close to the truth.

In those 90 minutes, I did think about life without Oliver.

Peaceful.

Non-stressful.

Freedom to go without planning for him.

No hidden poop to step in.

No responsibility for another life.

As the minutes ticked away, my inner voice was becoming louder with one dreadful thought.

NO MORE OLIVER.

Oliver is draped with my phone number. He has his Rabies tags with his vet’s number. His collar is stitched with his name and phone number in bright yellow letters. Another tag hangs around his neck giving all necessary information. If someone found him on a day he went exploring, they’d call. They might be sucked into his cuteness for a moment, but, make no mistake, within 24 hours, they’d pay ME the reward to take him back.

By minute 89, while creating a “Missing Dog” post, my heart was breaking at the reality of his absence. Oliver is really a good match for me. He might not be as stupid as he is creative, giving me something to worry about. He certainly has stepped up to the plate when it comes to being a Grieving Gardener’s partner. He lost VST, too.

When Oliver was found in the garage by his new best friend, MM, there was a celebration. He zoomed around with Wookie and immediately begged for a Greenie. He went outside to water the flowers and came in for a bite of dinner. Finally, he came, and for a very long time, snuggled next to me on the couch. Two old friends that need each other. Two best friends that have a complicated relationship.

Since being locked in the garage, Oliver has turned over a new leaf. Just a few weeks from his 5th birthday, he is taking life a little slower these days. Not as many immature antics. He still goes crazy when Wookie is around, but only to show off a little. Then, it’s back to the new Oliver. The one that really likes his naps.

As for me, each day I’m more appreciative of this little roommate of mine. I need to help him out a bit. After all, life without thumbs is a beast. I’m his ride to visit Wookie because he’s way to short to drive himself. I know how he likes his breakfast and dinner.

That sums up my side of the story. All’s well that ends well. As Joni would say, “You don’t know what you’ve lost ’til it’s gone.”

Whatever you do, do something extra for your pet. Five minutes extra with the ball. A few extra pats for being good. A extra snuggle now and then. If they could only talk, eh?

More tomorrow.

Today, my MM and I are Celebrating the Life of a native Nevada son, gone too soon.

Whatever you do this weekend, make sure it involves good food, upbeat music, and some sunshine. Enjoy the first weekend of summer and live a little.

I’ll be back on Monday.

Whatever you do today, try something totally different. Think about all the tomorrows you have left and plan a little adventure all your own. You just never know what you might find, right around the bend.

More tomorrow.

Owning a home is one of life’s sweet privileges. Over years of patience and loving care, the mortgage becomes smaller. Our home comforts us in time of loss and grief in a place filled with memories of happy times with loved ones. But, make no mistake, ticking time bombs await us like hidden land mines. Our appliances and plumbing. And so begins the tale of two dishwashers.

The dishwasher of Winterpast is an amazing machine. Installed new in 2020, it has settings of all kinds. It even has a setting for washing baby bottles of which I have no need. Gleaming stainless steel, both inside and out, it worked fine until two months ago when it stopped. Just like that. It hummed but refused to do anything else.

As a widow, the worst feeling occurs when something big breaks. Roofing, electrical, and plumbing are things I know nothing about. Along with the lack of knowledge, I’m limited in my strength and the ability to be on ladders. Each day that nothing goes wrong with the roof, plumbing, or electricity, I’m grateful. As a widow or widower, we are often left alone to figure these things out. As a widow, we are at the mercy of repairmen who know we might not know.

Widows and widowers everywhere. Before you call any repairman, google some information. YouTube is full of helpful videos for small fixes. At the very least, learn some terminology so that when the repairman tells you your flubbermagee has exploded into the thingamajigger breaking the twixbiscuit, you will know if HE knows what he’s talking about. And so my story continues.

Over the last ten months, I’ve been blessed with my Mysterious Marine’s knowledge about most household problems. Up until he died, VST was “the guy”. When you’re lucky enough to know “the guy”, you don’t need to CALL “the guy”. Calling “the guy” is costly and, on some occasions, creates more trouble than you had in the first place.

I’m pretty happy with my home warranty at this point in life. An insurance policy, it covers every appliance in the house, and a few outside. After an annual fee, if something breaks, there’s a $125 service fee. Period. If your appliance is no longer repairable, you get a new one. Over the years, home warranties have replaced my garage door opener and fixed many air conditioning compressors. Pretty good thing to have at this vulnerable stage of life.

In May, my dishwasher stopped working so I called the warranty company. Within a few days, a repairman was in the kitchen letting me know that the mother-board in my three year old GE dishwasher was fried. Toast. Not repairable. He’d need to order parts and return at a later date.

I forgot how nice it is to prepare a meal, wash the dishes, and have a clean kitchen afterwards. Totally clean and ready for the next meal. No dishes waiting to be washed in the stainless box. In the beginning of this ordeal, I didn’t mind washing the dishes at all. It reminded me of simpler times. But, that was in early May. It’s now late June. The bloom is off that rose. There’s nothing romantic or simple about washing dishes after cooking a meal.

Throughout May and June, I made weekly calls to the warranty company, each time being reminded about problems with the supply chain. I was surprised they didn’t blame Covid. Two parts were in, one was coming. Soon, they promised. And so, the ritual of dishwashing continued.

Finally, the day arrived. Yesterday, the nicest repairman arrived with three parts to make my dishwasher whole again. But, there’d been leaks. Now, the floor has warped because of those leaks. Two problems for the price of one. BUT, the dishwasher is working. A win!!!!!

I was so excited, I invited my MM over to enjoy Taco’s. I’d cook, and then put all the dishes in the dishwasher for the first time in almost two months!!! We’d celebrate!!! And we did just that. A lovely evening it was!

My MM awakes each morning at 5 PM to enjoy peace and quiet in his bachelor pad. A simple routine shared by humans everywhere. Enjoying that first cup of steaming coffee we all love to enjoy in the safety of our own home. A time to slowly wake to the day. A favorite time of day, UNLESS…………….

“Joy. You won’t believe this. Something leaked last night. Water is everywhere. I think it was the dishwasher.”

When one thing’s fixed, the next breaks. Such is the life of the homeowner. Double that if you’re dating someone that also owns a home. Groundhog Day of the dishwashers.

Whatever you do today, if nothing is broken in your house, dance a bit!!! If anything in your house is leaking water, prioritize and get it fixed. Leaking water is one of the most damaging things we can have in our homes. Small leaks lead to BIG problems.

As for me, I’m off to help my MM sop up his kitchen. Being “the guy”, he’ll have this fixed in no time.

More tomorrow.