Category: 2023

Roses or Calla’s? Invitations? Menu? Guests?

Oy.

Vey.

This wedding stuff is for the young. Each day there are hundreds — maybe even thousands — of decisions that are waiting to be made. With only 1 month and 8 days until the big day, the heat is on. And these decisions aren’t all that straightforward when one is a 67.75 year old bride. Things have changed a bit since January, 1988.

All the while, MM is right there in the trenches with me, enjoying every moment of fun. I didn’t know God made men that are wired to be helpful with wedding decisions. He is busy choosing songs for the DJ and collecting addresses and phone numbers for his relatives. He has an opinion on every aspect of our upcoming day. If there ever was a groom that is 100% dialed in to the process, it’s MM. Thankfully, it seems we have the same vision. Our focus is all about our commitment and not so much the hoopla or physical party.

Yesterday, the volume, complexity or potential impact of the decisions waiting left me so physically and mentally drained that last night I simply transported myself into a movie until I fell asleep. I’m looking into the abyss of decision fatigue. Thank goodness I recognize it from my travails as a widow. The stressor now identified, I’m going to prevent it from derailing all hopes of sheer bridal bliss. I’m not jumping off the cliff into the world of the……BRIDEZILLA!!!!!!! Not happening.

According to registered psychotherapist Natacha Duke, MA, RP, decision fatigue is a phenomenon (as opposed to a diagnosable medical condition) where the more decisions a person makes over the course of a day, the more physically, mentally and emotionally depleted they become. A person experiencing decision fatigue struggles with executive functioning. This can have a wide range of consequences, including impaired judgment.

Just so you know, this isn’t something this clever writer made up. It really exists.

Yesterday was car maintenance day. In the normal world, this would involve sitting in an uncomfortable mechanics lair. But, when you purchase luxury, it comes with some benefits. Like an Uber driver at your fingertips to drop you at the mall or appointment. A barista to prepare your favorite coffee and fresh donut. Comfy chairs and a spectacular view of the mountains. The list is long at the luxury service department.

It turns out my beautiful car has a few glitches that couldn’t be fixed in one day. So, what does this fantastic dealership do? Send me on my way in another beautiful new luxury car with less miles than mine!

Oy.

Vey.

Cars these days are full of many different tricks and tips. My car is like driving a giant iPad. This car was full of different technology. Only 4,235 miles of shiny new. Probably worth twice what I paid for mine. These things cause decision fatigue. Do I chance the freeway or take empty side streets on the way home? Is this the navigation system or just the back up camera? 37 miles is a long way to encounter possible dings and dents. Luckily, she’s in the garage, safe and sound.

Yesterday also held a stressful trip into the world of finance. So many decisions to be made before October 14th. Thank goodness I have a trustworthy advisor that hasn’t steered me in the wrong direction yet.

All these are not life or death decisions, but they add up. We make hundreds of decisions every day that impact others. Getting married is one of life’s biggest stressors. Having perfectionist tendencies while being faced with the uncertainty of life is a recipe for stress. And, we all know, stress is a killer. Thank goodness this wedding is a short-lived experience. In Mid-October, the seas will calm as our new life together begins.

In 2020, decision fatigue attacked me as a new widow. I fought procrastination or decision avoidance. Some days, I refused to adult and stayed in jammies all day. And then there was the Widow’s Fog. Well, I assure you, Bride Fog isn’t much different. Hiring a bridal planner might not be such a bad idea.

I do remember my Auntie reminding me that nothing lasts forever. Father Time and Mother Nature made sure of that. And there is plenty of time to enjoy normal life as an old lady.

What might continue for awhile is the mani/pedi schedule I’m beginning next week. Now I find out that MM rather likes manicured fingers and toes. Okay, I can roll with that! There’ll be at least one massage for this bride during the next six weeks. I plan to schedule some protective measures involving self-care, while taking time to enjoy this very magical time in life. It is truly a lot of happy fun!

Guys need down time, too. MM will be enjoying the beginning of the NFL season. I would hope he’ll take some time from invitation addressing to enjoy a round of golf with his bros. We’ll throw in a little laziness from time to time while delegating tasks to others. There are plenty of people we can trust to handle some of the minor details.

Whatever you are planning to do today, try not to become overwhelmed. Schedule some down time every day in which you take time to breathe. Unplug and focus on the silence. Find your happy spot and take time to be grateful. The world will keep spinning even if you stop twirling about for a bit.

Twirling into my own state of butter, I’ll be back tomorrow with updates.

Some days, I just shake my head and smile at the obvious. Blessing abound in this beautiful world. I don’t believe life is made of random accidents. Day by day, we’re presented with certain circumstances, dealing with them as we see fit. Some seem like delightfully happy accidents that open a new world. In my life, divine intervention occurs on a daily basis. This desert gal is no accidental tourist.

Consider my story.

One broken widow grieved in Virginia City. One sorrowful widower in grieving in a small town to the east. Both grieving deeply for the long time loves they lost, while working steps to heal their hearts. Two Grieving Gardeners.

Now on her own, she moved to his town alone. He began redecorating his home and life. She found complaint with one very stubborn little grieving dog. He lost his canine companion of 16 years and started over with a crazy puppy who liked to hop. She nearly lost her mind caring for the place that would help her winter pass. He fished. She wrote. The both gardened while God watched over them as days turned into years.

With long days filled with with loneliness, they both longed for the 4th chapter of their lives. They had raised themselves, and kids. They had made a living and a life. It was time to live again. Happiness was a choice they both made every day, even in the stranglehold of loneliness. Separately, they took a chance and ventured onto the world of online dating. And there, with only six miles between the two, they met.

Her first texted question was about the actual size of the fish he was holding in one of his internet pictures. His first texted answer was an actual answer about the size and species of fish and location caught. Text. Text. Text. Dinner. And just like that, a friendship bloomed.

Those short sentences make it seem so simple and the last year has been just that. Fresh, clear, simple, and obvious. No drama. No secrets. No devious motives. A friendship between two “60-Something’s” that became much, much more. Two dogs that jump and twirl at the mention of the other’s name. All beginning with a simple question about a fish.

Over the last year, my life’s mural has gained color and form. The gardens of Winterpast have benefited from the care of two gardeners instead of just one lonely lady watering her plants with tears. Our potato crops are bountiful. The tomato worms don’t stand a chance. We’ve erected a complete greenhouse. I’m learning to enjoy a little golf or football, and eagerly await the next season of “Wicked Tuna”. I’m remembering how to cook good food while serving it to a man that really enjoys a tasty meal.

When selecting my life’s puzzle pieces, I want no harm to come to others. Many times, I spend more time thinking about the resulting fall out then what’s really best for me. As the survivor of a farming family, in the past everything came before self. The animals. The crop. The creditors. At the very end of the list was “Self”. When I found myself alone, I had to learn that I am the only person that matters right now. That’s still an adjustment.

When piecing together a good and happy life, one needs to use brain power and discernment. Our brains were turned on at birth. Throughout life, we’ve made billions of decisions. So many people forget to use lists of logical pros and cons to make the right choice. If your brain is in a fog, like mine these days, borrow one. We are surrounded by so many every day. At least one will be functioning properly, we would hope. Ask friends. Ask professionals. Ask. But, then, look at all the possibilities and complete your very own puzzle.

Staring at the blank page before you, open up the window and let the sun illuminate the words you could not find.

Reach for something in the distance so close you can almost taste it.

Release your inhibitions.

Feel the rain on your skin because no one else can feel it for you.
Only you can let it in.

No one else.

No one else can speak the words on your lips.

Drench yourself in words unspoken.

Live your life with arms wide open.

Today is where your book begins. _{Natasha Bedingfield — Unwritten}

Every decision has a proper season. If you’re finding road blocks at every turn while choosing a path, maybe that decision isn’t for you. I have always wanted to volunteer in a remote location for six months. Just drop out of life and go. It might have been a groovy idea when people still used the word groovy, but today, that ship has sailed. I learned that all too well when I accepted the teaching position last year. For everything there is a time and season. A graceful woman knows all about proper timing. A faith-filled woman stops to listen for guidance from a higher place.

Throughout life, I choose to believe that something WONDERFUL is about to happen. Miracles are everywhere. Think back to the widow and widower. Miracles traveled through the nothingness of the internet and the blue light of a computer screen, to connect two great people. Two mending hearts found strength while holding hands and watching The Chosen. Two Christians found a new church family in a dusty little wide spot in the road off the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. If the last year isn’t one heck of hundreds of amazing little miracles, then I just don’t know.

Whatever you do today, try looking at random things as beautiful miracles. Start really looking at the changes in your yard from dawn until dusk. Arise before dawn and listen to the world as it wakes. Choose the puzzle pieces of your life wisely. It’s all up to you. Make the picture of your life your own. No one else can paint it for you.

More tomorrow.

Another step closer to OUR day. There are so many things on my “To Do” list, I had to make one dedicated to bridal activities. Having much more energy in my younger years, I need to find the proper pace. One task at a time. One day at a time. Yesterday we knocked two important chores out of the park inviting exhaustion.

In a few short weeks, we’ll meet with family and friends in a tiny little out-of-the way chapel to exchange vows. But for now, we’re an engaged couple needing to make a major decision on rings. Not just any rings. Custom rings with bling. Rings that can handle a beautiful night out as well as a shovel and mulch. Rings that will be notice to everyone we meet that I am his wife and he is my husband.

MM knows more people and services than I thought possible. In our village or the surrounding towns, he knows where to go and who to see. When the subject of rings came up, he immediately knew of THE guy. Friends since high school, this sweet man remembered the high school track record that MM still holds to this day. While this man competed in Track and Field events different than those MM did, he knew the legend that walked into his store yesterday afternoon.

His beautiful wife of 32 years set out to work. Picking our brains while sitting together like four old friends, they presented us with the perfect design that will be handcrafted just for us from four rings that hold memories of two precious lifetimes. Our old wedding rings.

Without our late spouses, we wouldn’t be the people we are today. VST and Sunflower have teamed up to help us along the way. I love hearing stories about her. I probably tell too many stories about VST. It seemed like the perfect way to bring them into our lives in a special way. Four rings never removed for a combined total of 50 years. Now, that’s some seasoned gold and diamonds that will forever sparkle and shine!

Stunning creation. That’s all I can say. Our rings will be absolute masterpieces. And, custom. No other rings in world will be like ours. With not a day to spare, we’ll meet them for a final fitting and approval in two weeks. The rings will be complete by our wedding day.

• Rings — Check.

Like some kind of royalty, I get deliveries of wedding dresses on a daily basis. Thank Goodness for Amazon!!! I think you could have a small pony delivered from Amazon if you needed one. This service has saved countless trips to the store. Everything ordered has arrived within 1-2 days. Not quite right? Drop it off at the UPS Store for an immediate refund. With time short, this shopping option has been heaven sent.

It’s time to set up a Hen Party here at Winterpast to get final opinions from my home-town Ride-Or-Dies. Mimosa’s and the fashion show to help me pick the most important dress I will own. I’ll need to put out more chairs for the viewing gallery.

I will say that at my age, white isn’t a good color for many reasons. I plan to be wearing a color that suits me. The dress will be an evening gown with sparkles. Right now, that’s all I’m divulging.

• Dress– 1/2 checked.

MM is busy selecting his “Jerry Garcia” tie. The poor groom gets little to be excited about. It is the bride’s show. I can’t wait to see what he picks to go with his black suit and fedora. They’ll be one sharp dressed man waiting for me at the alter.

• Groom’s Attire – Check

Today is a day to celebrate with Virginia City girlfriends over lunch. I can tell you that the outpouring of love and support for MM and I has been more than I could have ever imagined. In this my 10th fall as a Nevadan, my roots are healthy, strong, and desert bound.

*Bridal Hoopla – Check

When VST and I first found loveliness in the home now named Winterpast, we’d found home. There wasn’t a question for either of us. Cancer already had him in a death grip, but no one had told us that yet. The place would be perfect.

On the way home that first day, VST asked me a very strange question.

“Will you be happy there, Darlin’?”

At the time, I was not happy with that question, telling him so. Wouldn’t WE be happy there? Just WHEN hadn’t I been happy with our life together? And so on.

As things turned out, I moved out of VC into Winterpast on the 17th day as a new widow.

VST, as you enjoy heaven’s life, you already know the answer to your question about my happiness.

Yes, VST. I am happy here.

Winterpast is everything it has needed to be and more. This dusty little town is my dusty little town. The high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada hold my heart. Thanks for helping me find the perfect place to heal and grow into this phase in my life. Thanks for being my Northern Star. You’ve guided me well. Rest In Peace.

Whatever you do today, choose a project and start a daily march toward it. Develop something in the garden. Repaint something. Re-arrange your living space into something new. In my case, I just happen to be planning a wedding. I hope you’re enjoying the ride!

More on Monday.

Twenty-two years ago, there were things I hadn’t experienced yet. At 45, I hadn’t yet celebrated the first birthday of my 1 month old grandchild. I hadn’t harvested the 12th crop of raisins from our Thompson Seedless vineyard. I hadn’t finished my 5th year of teaching 3rd Grade in Room 20. I hadn’t experienced an all-out attack on the country I love so much. I was just a young teacher driving across the countryside to work another day.

I’d just become an empty nester with two sons serving in the United States Air Force. One would just be leaving the gates of an East Coast base for reassignment to a west coast base. The other son was translating information from bad guys while eavesdropping high above the clouds over England. My sons were grown men on their own. My full attention focused on 20 high-energy 8-year-old’s who loved their teacher, Mrs. Hurt.

Although I was a seasoned traveler, I’d never traveled to New York. It never appealed to someone like me. A concrete jungle is too confining. This country girl needed wide open spaces, often feeling claustrophobic by the miles and miles of perfectly groomed vineyards. New York might as well have been the wilds of Tanzania or Zimbabwe. To this very day, I’ve never visited and have no desire to change that.

The morning of 9/11/2001, I was “Any American Teacher”. Papers in – Papers out. Corrected assignments in the roller cart in the trunk of my car. Black line master’s for the new assignments ready to copy. Just one last thing to do. Kiss VST goodbye for the day and head out to get my XL Diet Coke at the 76 station. Same routine every day. Rain or shine. Bloom or harvest. Just another normal day.

I loved my morning soda stop. The owner of the store happened to be of Middle-Eastern descent. Never gave it much thought. Thought about it a lot in the days to follow.

“Hey, Meez Hurt! Ready to teach today?” He’d always have a nice greeting for me. I’d just grab the soda, run.

On this morning, he was watching his TV screen.

“What’s up? Hot news?”

I saw the initial smoke from the sky-scrapers. Didn’t look too exciting. Something in New York. But, wasn’t there ALWAYS something in New York? The news said a small plane had hit the World Trade Center. Ahh, how sad for the families involved. I wished him well and went on my way.

Along the way, the radio filled me in on how the world had just changed in an instant. Arriving at school, I wasn’t the same Mrs. Hurt that’d just left the safety of the ranch. In an instant, I was the mom of two Airmen. I was the daughter of parents that had just flown across the Atlantic while returning from a golden anniversary trip to Europe. I was the grandmother of a little baby that would live his entire life in a world changed in horrific ways.

20 kids would enter Room 20 at 7:45 am. 20 kids would need answers and 7.5 hours of love and care from one traumatized teacher that just needed a minute to scream, “WHY????”

9/11/2001.

The teachers all wore dark glasses to hide our shock and tears that day. We took turns cramming around the secretary’s desk to watch the coverage, while making sure the kids outside had yard duty teachers to watch over them. We tried to carry on as we would on any regular school day. That’s what you do when you’re in charge of littles. No matter what, count heads and keep going.

Children figure things out. One child knew. Then another. Then another. Finally, with little eyes focused on one very scared teacher, we sat on the carpet in a big circle and talked about what had just happened. They asked questions. I told them I really didn’t know, because teachers certainly don’t know everything on a day like that. They cried a little bit. So did I. And then, we brainstormed.

One child had a brilliant idea. Could they write letters and draw pictures for the nurses and doctors in New York? What about the firemen? And policeman? Could they watercolor?

“Mrs. Hurt, we don’t know how to write a letter! Can you help us? “

“How do you spell doctor?”

“Where is New York City?”

“Are the bad people coming here?”

So many lessons were covered that day. The geography of the United States of America. Art. Kindness. Love. Support. Penmanship. Spelling. Grammar. As a family 3rd Graders, we were a class on a mission. Together, we clawed our way through the first day of a new way of life. The blue-sky, happy-go-luckiness of before was gone forever more.

Years, later, in 2014, I went to my last 9/11 remembrance at PELCO in Clovis, California. PELCO was one of the companies supplying surveillance cameras in the World Trade Center. Throughout the horrific order, the employees had maintained a special relationship with their friends in New York and held a yearly service that was something to experience. A block of land in the California parking lot had been deeded to New York. A piece of beam from the World Trade Center rests in a small museum there. Family born of blood.

After the ceremony, I was getting ready to leave when someone tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, two young adults stood before me. I couldn’t place them at first.

“Mrs. Hurt. It’s you!”

“Hi there! I am so sorry. It’s been a morning and a few years have passed. You’re going to need to help me out.”

As quick as anything, the young woman shared a memory and code that only a member of Room 20 would know. And then, she smiled. It’s always in the smile. Just like that, my heart remembered her. My little student from long ago. My Allegra.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hurt. You were there for us. You kept us safe that day.” 13 years later, it was she that comforted her teacher. We both cried as we held each other tight. Just like that, we tumbled back in time to the horrible day we tried to make things better with crayons, paint, and a lesson in letter writing.

So much lost and so much found on September 11.

Whatever you do today, REMEMBER. Sit for a moment. THINK. Find one thing you could make better today and ACT. Each 9/11, I give one gift to a place it will do the most good. Say Hello to someone that looks down. Help a neighbor that needs it. Call a lonely friend. Do something really good, on a day that, long ago, was really bad. Please, just REMEMBER. Never, ever, ever forget. But then, how could anyone forget what we lost that day?

A quick note. If you have not heard of Gander, Newfoundland and the miracle that occurred there on 9/11 learn about it. TODAY. There is a wonderful play online. Come From Away. Read the back story about the 30+ jumbo jets that had to land in on an airstrip, emptying all their passengers into a town of 6,000+. Learn about it and the love shared by strangers. It will change you in a good way.

More tomorrow.

This is a very view of the classroom in which I learned about respect for self, others, and country. Although this photo was taken a few years before my time, the elementary school I attended impressed upon my classmates and I the importance of self discipline. We learned to attend to the lessons at hand and then, learned about the wonders of the world. My teachers could grab the attention of the most squirrelly child, and they did. One way or the other.

Moving forward to 9/11/2023, it’s much more difficult to reproduce this picture. From my recent classroom experience, there’d be breakfast wrappers and juice boxes on the tables. There’d be plenty of nonsense blaring from the loudspeaker in the room. I would’ve just finished passing out breakfasts, taken attendance, wiped spills, opened juice boxes, all while teaching the emotional-social lesson for the day. No time for skippidity-dippity kiddos rushing in for their morning hug and report on the birth of six kitten during the night. Just the rigors of mandated programs and procedures.

I’m sure it’s even more intense this year than last. God bless the teachers and students as they search to find meaningful experiences in the classrooms of today. In my very small town, a handful of teachers made sure that happened on September 11, 2023.

How and why is it that the history of September 11 is not the first thing kids learn about every year????? Just how???? Without a teacher that knows the importance, it’s become just another day. The fifth day of the 2023-24 school year.

Our town will NEVER forget 9/11. Each year, there is an amazing program at the firehouse with the biggest American flag hanging from a boom truck. All the firemen attend in their dress uniforms. The firehouse is scrubbed and shiny, as you would expect a firehouse to be.

My fabulous fiancé who will remain MM for now, and I took our spot in the front row a few minutes before the program began. In the crowd, there were plenty of people I’ve met over the four summers I’ve been a desert gal. Town folk that I now consider friends.

Ninja neighbor started things off by singing the National Anthem. Along with being prettier than Carrie Underwood (and I am not kidding on that one), she jumped right up and belted out the most beautiful song. A cappello. Never drifted off key. I got the feeling that if she wanted too, she could have even been more powerful with her gorgeous voice. A local super-star!!! Who knew?

There were poems and thoughts about the day. My soon-to-be-Brother-in Law-and-Love, The Mayor, gave a rousing speech. And then, we were all hit by a powerhouse of a man.

Major General Ondra L. Berry — Maj. Gen. Ondra L. Berry is the adjutant general of the state of Nevada, the highest ranking officer in the Nevada Guard. He works as the chief advisor to Nevada Gov. Joe Lombardo on all matters affecting the 4,400 soldiers, airmen and civilians in the Nevada Guard.

There were all kinds of people in the audience, but there was a special group of dignitaries that sat outside on the asphalt. Criss-cross-applesauce, butts on the ground. Sixty youngsters. I’m guessing 5th or 6th grade. In a school district of almost 9,000 kids, 60 were treated to the speech of a lifetime. Rising to the occasion, they sat at attention when the Major General began to speak.

He talked to all of us about love of country and what it means to be a first responder. Bravery. Honor. Courage. Faith. Self-respect. Love of Country. Pride. Dreams. REMEMBERING. Being Battle Born. Battle Trained. Battle Ready. Being Proud Nevadans.

Those children, along with the rest of us, drank in his every word. I have no doubt that if one of those kids misbehaved, he would have stepped in to chat. They knew that. It didn’t matter because he commanded the attention of the entire room in the best way possible. He praised the courage and wisdom of the teachers that had made THIS lesson, one of life’s important ones.

As he spoke, he physically turned his body and attention to the children. The speech about the adult topics of patriotism and service to others was delivered to these children. He made eye contact with them as he delivered the message. Never, ever, ever forget.

By the way, he needed no microphone. This man controlled the room, not with volume, but with content.

His speech should have been mandatory viewing for every sing student in our huge school district. The entire event should have been zoomed into every classroom across our high desert plains. But, it wasn’t. Just 60 very lucky kids and their teachers, sitting criss-cross-applesauce for an hour.

Amazing Grace was performed by kilt-wearing pipers.

A 21 gun salute boomed as spent shells hit the ground.

The 5-5-5 bells tolled for the fallen firefighters.

Long before telephones and radios, fire departments used the telegraph to communicate. When the handle was pulled on the once-familiar red fire alarm boxes found on nearly every street corner of America, a special code was transmitted to every fire station. When a firefighter died in the line of duty, the fire alarm office would tap out a special signal. That signal was five measured dashes, then a pause, then five measured dashes, another pause…then five more dashes. This became universally known as the Tolling of the Bell and was broadcast over all telegraph fire alarm circuits. This signal was a sign of honor and respect for all firefighters who had made the ultimate sacrifice and has become a time-honored tradition.

I’m so proud to live in a patriotic town. I’m glad personally know the Sheriff that keeps us safe from harm. How lucky to have a brother that is steering the direction of our town. Blessed am I to have a Fire Chief that is a man among men. I chose well a town that values the ideals of our country as I do.

What a meaningful day of remembrance!

Whatever you do today, think in terms of kindness. Give others the benefit of the doubt and focus on the good that is all around us. Negative thoughts only eat away at a happy heart. Turn your own thoughts towards something happy. It’s good for the soul.

More tomorrow.

There are hundreds of decisions to be made when planning a traditional wedding. Ceremony. Vows. Flowers. Music. Food. Cake. And most important of all, THE DRESS.

Oy.

Vey.

One of the most stressful things for me on any day is the hunt for THE right dress for THE day, quickly approaching. There is a a weird comfort that we are not yet in our wedding month. But, that isn’t reality. The reality is, I need something stunning to wear as I walk down the aisle towards my awaiting groom. Men have it so easy. A suit and tie. Good to go. I must find this form fitting stunner in 28 days or less. The heat is on.

It’s not like I haven’t been trying. Amazon is a great place to buy all kinds of things. Anything you can think of can be delivered to your door. Heck, I even bought my snow blower and lawn mower using the site. The two potting tables sitting in the new greenhouse came from Amazon. Heck, the greenhouse was ordered online. They have anything and everything but the perfect dress.

There has been the need to involve the bank fraud department when I didn’t receive my refund for a July return. There have been dresses that were designed for an XL child. All tawdry and overpriced. Yet, the need for a dress overrides the obvious fact that it’s very hard to find clothing that’s perfect when shopping online. Almost a miracle if you find something.

I did receive the perfect dress, in the perfect size and shade of blue. It was lovely in every way. From Amazon, I held my breath to see how it would fit. Indeed, it fit perfectly. Just one little problem. It had been treated with something around the neck, and was now purple in those areas. A perfectly wonderful defective dress.

Returned.

I’ve visited a tony Bridal salon. It didn’t go well either. Ball gowns, mermaid designs, fit and flare, and just plain “out-there” designs. That was my experience as I looked at traditional gowns. There is nothing traditional about me. I’m a gardening, 67 year old grandmother of 12 that does best in a tee-shirt, shorts, and flat shoes. I don’t wear jewelry or pearls. I’m not a 21 year old bride walking down the aisle while flashing a veiled blush at her new groom.

White is out. Cream is right there with it. No greys or muted colors. And for goodness sakes, it goes without saying “NOOOOOO VEIL”. This sexagenarian does need some color in her dress.

Although the exact color will remain a secret, I was in search of MM’s favorite. I wish I could say that I found a dress in that color. It’s hard to find. So, I went with a color that enhances my natural beauty.

Yesterday, I met with my future Step-Daughter-in-Law-and-Love. Taking off work, she met with me for support as the hunt continued. We looked at all kinds of formal attire. From pant suits (I’m not Bea Arthur from the Golden Girls, although we were both retired teachers), to skirts, to dresses in every color of the rainbow.

I asked for two things. Sleeves and length. The need for long sleeves should be explanatory to anyone with arm wings. I cannot expose the wings to be documented in the eternity of wedding photos. Not. Going. To. Happen. With Size 11’s in flats, the longer the dress the better. Yes. Length. No pants. Sleeves.

And the circus began.

I finally found one dress that would do. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t horrible. It just didn’t feel exactly right. But, with nothing else that was close, it was the front runner.

Until………

I decided to do one more walk-about the store to make sure there was nothing I might have missed.

There, hiding between many other dresses, I found it.

Color — Check

Arms — Check

Length — Check

Fit and Finish — Check

Everyone agreed. It was THE ONE.

A heart-felt thanks to the sweetest of friends for taking time from her busy day to come and help. Not only did we find success with the dress but we also decided on the cake, which she’ll be designing and creating for her dad and me. She’s an amazing woman!

With one big worry off my mind, I was about to leave the store when I remembered that I do need a pair of flats. In 10 minutes, I found, tried on, and purchased the cutest shoes. If you wear a weird size like 11 Narrow, you know, this NEVER, EVER happens on any day in any universe. But it did. Yesterday. In the biggest little city to the west of me.

Whatever you do today, go through your wardrobe and see what you are missing. Do a little shopping. Find something new that makes you feel as special as an October bride. It doesn’t need to be sparkly or expensive. Just crisp and new. Everyone needs a new look once in awhile on their journey towards home.

More tomorrow.

All my attention has been towards music in these past days. Music that will be the backdrop at the best reception of the years. Ours. If you’re a vicenarian or tricenarian, musical choices are fresh and obvious. Just turn on the radio and choose the songs you know and love. Us sexagenarians have extra decades full of musical choices. Old songs carry us back to simpler times.

I grew up in a house full of music. My parents loved music and made sure that we were exposed to it. My father played the trombone in high school. His instrument stayed in the closet until they sold the ranch, a brass object of mystery. My mother played the piano beautifully. The oldest sister escaped and became a twirling majorette. The next played the accordian, the middle one chose the clarinet. And then, there was me.

I learned a little of this and a little of that. Is started with percussion and piano. As I grew, being too cool for the marching band, I stuck with choir, using the instrument God gave me. I played the guitar for a few years, learning enough chords to accompany many popular ballads of the 70’s. Yes, music has always been a part of my life.

Having hours to fill, MM and I came to a quick agreement. Each one of us will pick 25 of our favorite songs. They will be added to a computerized play list, one of his, one of mine, until we have 50. At 3 – 4 minutes a song, that will cover it. Sounds easy, right? Take the challenge, yourself. You’ll find lots of instructions online. Keep trying until you get it.

My list takes me back to a time when my sisters were in high school and I was 5 years old. Having older siblings, I gained a broader appreciation for musical selections outside my own age group. Sam Cooke and Etta James will make a special appearance. But, Jason Mraz also made the mix.

The DJ we chose will be a brand new nephew of mine. This young guy will control the room and get the party started. If you can’t smile in his presence, you might not be in a mood for a wedding reception. At least, not ours. He’ll be the perfect DJ to guide a wonderful night.

One requested dance to happen sometime during the night will be La Conga. Other than that, it will be dancing as usual. No German Polkas. No chicken dance. No electric slide. Just a lot of people on the dance having a great time.

Whatever you do today, enjoy some music. It can lift you right out of a terrible day. Turn on the radio and dance a bit. It will get your blood flowing. Just ask Alexa for your favorites. She will help you find some tunes.

More tomorrow.

As we plan to squeeze out the last bit of summer fun this weekend, I share a rare picture of the gardens of Winterpast and Wookie with you. If you look closely, you’ll see the greenhouse towards the top, just left of center. Blessed with this oasis, gardening is something that is a pleasure, without demanding too many days of back-breaking labor. At least for me. MM might tell you a different tale.

This year, MM has planted three hostas, seven roses, and two Japanese Maple trees. To accomplish this, he used his own trusty pick ax to make holes in the desert soil. Any Mysterious Marine that owns a pick ax is a good guy! Then, he went on to pour a concrete foundation and, with the help of his trusty “go-for” girl, build our 10′ x 14′ greenhouse.

This summer, the back yard has come to life. This is, in part, due to the wonderful plant supplement called “SuperThrive”. If you garden and haven’t found this product, do some research and buy some. It’s not cheap, it’s used sparingly. On an average yard, 4 oz. will last a season or more. It’s worth it’s weight in gold. Unlike “Miracle Grow”, which works on leaf production, “Super Thrive” works to stimulate root growth. The two together produce amazing results.

Earlier in the year, we went on a garden tour in the land of Top Gun, just to the east. A woman had the most beautiful hydrangea. Not the usual one found at Grandma’s house on the coast, but a very different plant thriving in the hot desert sun. I fell in love with it and purchased my own at the local nursery.

After bringing this delicate beauty home, I did a very stupid thing. Replanted, I set the new plant in full sun as the directions said to do. However, full sun in the desert isn’t the best idea when you have just repotted something. This gorgeous plant lost almost every leaf, even with lots of water and Miracle Grow. She was stressed to the max.

MM assured me no worry was necessary. After all, there is always the magic of “Super Thrive”. I lacked faith the magic would work. He proved me wrong. The plant, moved to the shade of the back patio, is thriving. With thick green foliage, she’s a happy plant that will winter in the greenhouse.

Twinkling lights grace all the trees in the yard. Up-lighting illuminates my “banyan” apricot tree. The Christmas present of outdoor lighting that MM lovingly installed in early spring, provide a soft glow to the perimeter of Winterpast as the days shorten, turning into cool desert evenings. The best kind of evening for a block party.

With hand written invitations already delivered, 20 neighbors are coming over tomorrow night to enjoy BBQ chicken, Mac N Cheese, fruit, green salad, and signature homemade apple pie. And the great news of upcoming nuptuals. It’ll be fun to spend the evening visiting with friends from our block.

In the background, the wedding favors are in the final phase of completion. Little stickers are secured on the bottom of 300 Hershey’s kisses. Plates, cups, and cutlery for the wedding sit waiting for the big day. THE dress is selected. Shoes are purchased. Thirty favorite songs are now part of my first-ever personal play list. Invitations should arrive today to be sent out ASAP. During this past week, progress has been made, eliminating the need for bridal nightmares.

With a life full of friends and family here on the desert, happiness brings with it laughter and a peace that surpasses all understanding. Memories of a wonderful past life are as beautiful as the blooms of Winterpast. The present is rich and overflowing with fulfilling activities. The future, just like the rose, will unfold under God’s watchful eye. It’s just the way life is.

Whatever you do today, make it count. If you are a person of faith, read some in your Bible. If you already do that, don’t just read it, study it. Such a rich tapestry of life and all the lessons it holds. If your eyesight isn’t the best, listen to the words. Biblegateway.com is a wonderful website offering most languages and versions of the Bible online. Check it out!!

Have a wonderful weekend. More on Monday.

What a beautiful Weekend! Although I need a few weekdays to rest and recover, I will say that it’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed such fun. Thinking back to the events of Saturday and Sunday fills me with amazement and wonder. For the blessing of friends and neighbors I am so grateful.

The weekend did start differently than MM and I had planned. The invitations arrived a day late, making Friday night crunch time to address them. My Mysterious Marine, and soon to be husband, arrived with his names and addresses at the ready. I was prepared with my trusty address book. Together, we addressed, stuffed, stamped, and licked each one. Someone asked if MM watched TV while I did the addressing. Nope. He was there every step of the way, even when ingesting the retched envelope glue. A Ride or Die friend. That’s my MM.

Saturday, we’d planned a little dinner party with neighbors to announce our engagement. Just a few guests. Seventeen to be exact. MM had been over most of the day beautifying the gardens here at Winterpast. We set up tables and chairs for 18 as the first leaves of the season were falling.

For our menu, we chose Rustic Country BBQ. We started with Chips and dips, crackers and cheese. For the main course, we served BBQ Chicken with Sweet Baby Ray’s sauce, baked beans, green salad, and homemade Mac N’ Cheese. There were two homemade apple pies for desert. The food must have been good, because most of it was gone by the end of the night.

Laughter floated on the evening air. Just a bunch of neighbors from houses on the block getting to know one another better. I learned the following.

1. We have a bowling champion and master quilter living just a few doors away.

2. My new neighbor across the street has the most precious smile.

3.Everyone loves a good glass of wine and conversation.

4.My margarita maker is still the hit of any party.

5. Ninja Neighbor and her tribe are a blessing to the entire street.

I learned about neighborhood parties from my Auntie TJ. She started this whole thing years ago with a Christmas party. Just an open house that started at 5, because 5 is the most elegant hour to start a party. The same magic occurred at her house, whether at Christmas or 4th of July. She knew how to draw the neighbors in and slowly, a family was formed. Even today, when I visit her small coastal town, I still need to visit the neighbors, because they’re my friends too. Heck, I even met a real, honest to goodness Goddess of the Central Coast along the way.

Saturday night, the Dolls of the Desert Plains and their men-folk were delightful. We’re already thinking about our next party, to be held in December. We’ll still be honeymooning. A perfect time to celebrate new beginnings.

Of course, we had wedding invitations for everyone with hugs all around as this was neighborhood NEWS. I couldn’t have been more proud of MM. While BBQ-ing, he visited with everyone, being the perfect host and fiancé.

Sunday was a day for worship at our little church. Twenty more invitations were delivered followed by more hugs and squeals of delight. In a few days time, a little desert church sitting on a wide spot along the interstate will be the place to be. SRO. Standing Room Only.

There, at the end of the aisle, my Mysterious Marine will be waiting just for me. As long as he’s there, everything will be alright. Somewhere along the way, I must’ve done something good.

More tomorrow.

The very things we think will never happen to us sometimes do. The following situation has been affecting me for the last three days. I guess I’ve been lucky to enjoy shopping online for all these years without incident. After this experience, I’ll change my routine a bit.

Like everyone, Amazon has lulled me into becoming an internet shopper over the years. I first learned of Amazon back in 1996 when, as a teacher, it was the best place to find and buy books. In the beginning, they started selling books. As a newbie, I attended a librarian’s conference. It was there the word “Amazon” was the buzz among educators. No more trips to Barnes and Noble. Amazon would deliver books right to your door. Imagine that!

Through the years, I’ve often joked that you could probably get a live pony delivered by Amazon. I certainly have ordered weird things like a rototiller and snow blower. Slowly, Amazon has become my go to place for spa chemicals, garden tools, and party dresses. That was, until last week.

Seven days ago, I started receiving weird text notices on my phone. They were notices involving a two-step authentication in order to proceed with my purchase. The funny thing was, there were no purchases on the days I received these notices. I simply blocked the sender and didn’t give it another thought.

Now, every bride-to-be understands the necessity of Amazon Prime. At the moment, I’m receiving deliveries of cutlery, tablecloths, and clothing. Each day, I only need to think of something I need for the wedding and I’m off to place another order. Online shopping saves time and gas. It also helps to assure that the needed items will arrive. The mind of a bride is often a little foggy.

With the notices dismissed, I didn’t give it another thought until Sunday. Needing to order something, I attempted to sign into my account. Low and behold, my password had been changed. No problem. They would send a two-step verification notice to my e-mail. Except that, the emails never came. I was locked out of my own account. Frozen from my purchase history. Estranged from a return for which I hadn’t yet received a refund.

If anyone else lived here at Winterpast with me, they would’ve been suspect. Heck, Oliver might have been questioned, but he’s been at puppy camp for a little respite from the bride. Some devious soul had hacked my account and changed the password. I’m just fortunate it hadn’t happened since 1996.

And so began the phone calls with Amazon associates that live in far away countries while all named John, Mike, Dave, or Sue. Each one would assure me that they’d fix me right up as soon as they sent me an email. No emails ever arrived. Through four different people, each reading the same script, no emails ever came. Although I received other emails successfully, there are none from Amazon. Not in the inbox. Not in the Spam. Not in the Trash. And so, there was nothing that could be done, they told me. Sorry. No can do.

My association with Amazon is effectively over. The hackers won.

The dear associates trying to help me need a new script. Over and over they read the same instructions. The directives that didn’t work on Call #1, #2, #3, and #4. Doing the same thing over and over while getting the same results is a cesspool of frustration. I’m appalled that a company as large as Amazon doesn’t have a fix for the hacker that got me. Let me assure you. They do not.

Their advice to me? Contact my email provider. It must be THEIR problem.

OY.

VEY.

Maybe I should just chill and watch a movie on Amazon Prime?

One small problem with that idea.

“Please sign into your account. We will send you a verification code via email.”

Not happening any time soon.

The best advice I have to share is this. Do not leave your credit card on file anywhere online. Just do not. It takes very little time to type in a credit card number each time you order something. Although it’s very convenient, it’s not safe. For that matter, really consider whether or not you need an account. Shop as a guest. At my current level of frustration, I’ll be looking for other options. Perhaps Walmart and Costco Online.

In the mean time, I reported fraud on my credit card and requested a new number. It’ll be necessary to contact everyone that charges me on a monthly basis. Unnecessary work that shouldn’t happen, except that it does when one lives in the world in which we do.

Living in remote places is difficult at times. With only one Walmart within 30 miles, my shopping will now be severely limited. Great for the budget. Not so great when trying to plan last minute details for a wedding.

That’s the news for today. Stay aware. Vigilant. Alert. At the first sign of any strange messages or e-mails, investigate to make sure they aren’t from crafty hackers. Don’t open anything that looks suspicious.

Whatever you do today, make a plan to check on your financial accounts at least once a week. Most banks have user friendly services in which you can take a look and make sure all charges are yours. Alert the bank immediately if you have any fraudulent activities. Just use the number on the back of your credit card. Better safe than sorry.

More tomorrow.