Category: 2023

Well it’s a strange old game you learn it slow
One step forward and it’s back you go
You’re standing on the throttle
You’re standing on the brake
In the groove ’til you make a mistake

You gotta know happy – you gotta know glad
Because you’re gonna know lonely
And you’re gonna know sad
When you’re rippin’ and you’re ridin’
And you’re coming on strong
You start slippin’ and slidin’
And it all goes wrong because

Sometimes you’re the windshield
Sometimes you’re the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you’re just a fool in love
Sometimes you’re the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you’re the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you’re gonna lose it all

One day you got the glory and then you got none
One day you’re a diamond and then you’re a stone
Everything can change in the blink of an eye
So let the good times roll before we say goodbye because

Sometimes you’re the windshield
Sometimes you’re the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you’re just a fool in love
Sometimes you’re the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you’re the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you’re gonna lose it all

This week has been a mixture of being both the windshield and the bug. Really good things happened, followed by the not so good. Isn’t that the way of life?

Taxes 2023.

Is that enough information for ya’ll?

It seems that no matter how much is withheld from a paycheck, it is NEVER enough for Uncle Sam.

Never.

Never.

Never.

Thank goodness Mary Chapin Carpenter wrote this adorable song to remind us all that no one has smooth sailing every day of their lives. Some days are wonderful as you stand on the highest hilltop in front of an amazing castle with someone you really adore. Then, there are those days when Turbo Tax sucks the life out of you.

Whatever you do today, listen to a few song by Mary Chapin Carpenter. She seems to have a good handle on life. As for me, it’s back to Turbo Tax. All too soon, the Tax Man cometh. I need to be ready.

More tomorrow.

No kind action ever stops with itself. One kind action leads to another. Good example is followed. A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves. ~ Amelia Earhart

It’s Friday!!!! Even though I’m retired, Friday still brings a smile. The energy out there is infectious as everyone waits for weekend fun. It’s the best day to show some appreciation as we go throughout our days. Just as the cottonwood trees send out roots to make more cottonwood trees, a simple kindness can change a person’s day, helping them find kindness for another. Happiness and kindness have a way of spreading, but there needs to be a spark.

It never ceases to amaze me how phone associates seem shocked when I thank them for their help. An efficient brittleness often turns into a softened voice. The phone associate becomes a human being on the other end of the line, just making a living. What a thankless job to deal with angry people on the phone all day long. Kindness can travel a long way through the air waves. Sometimes it makes it across the world. Cost — $0.00. Effect — Priceless.

Closer to home, there are so many unsung heroes in our own towns. The person in charge of the volunteer fire department. Sherriff Deputies. EMT’s. Postal workers. Trash collectors. Gas station attendants. Waitresses. Everyone helps to create an image of the town. In my case, the image of small town America is one I appreciate every day.

With the severe winter storm pelting the Sierra’s, the interstate is closed in both directions causing massive lines of trucks. Miles and miles of trucks on their way over Donner Pass. Trucks sitting still. Trucks loaded with items that need to get from here to there. Truck drivers that are within a short distance of dropping loads with only one deadly pass between them and their destination. Trucks with perishables. All waiting. The storm is projected to last through next week. Anyone who has driven Donner Pass knows. It can be a killer.

Here in our sleepy little town, the snow hasn’t started to fall yet. When it does, the heavens are supposed to open up and dump on us. It’s a great day to stay inside and watch the world from the windows. Winterpast is such a warm and cozy place in which to fluff my nest while Oliver snores at my feet.

Today, our high school basketball team is poised to take the Nevada State Championship. Competition with the south runs deep in these parts. Both the boys and girls teams are made of championship kids. The kind that play hard at 4500′ elevation without taking an extra breath. The boys team has been undefeated all year. Their first loss was last week as they played for the Division 3A Title. It’s okay. Now they’ve experienced humiliation. I’m sure this week they dined on humble pie and long workouts.

I appreciate the dedicated hours their coaches have put in after teaching kids all day. They’ve done so for the love of kids and for the love of the sport. By tomorrow night, the winner will take the Nevada State trophy home to their town for another year. MM and I plan to be on the edge of our seats watching. Not sure if it will be in a huge stadium just to the west of here or in the comfort of home. The storm will make the final call. Wherever we are, we’ll be cheering for our high desert students.

Whatever you do today, find people in your life that help things run smoothly. When things don’t go so right, be grateful for the things that do. We are so lucky to live in a free country. The country overflows with things that are just plain good. Turn off the TV news and focus on them. You need look no further than your very own towns.

Have a wonderful weekend. I will be back on Monday.

A few nights ago, as I was snuggled on the couch watching television, five heroic people left this earth. They were lost in a tragic plane crash on the desert plains I love so much. One aboard was very ill and being transported with his wife by pilot and crew to a town only 30 miles to the west. Something went horribly wrong. Our world lost angels when heaven called them back that dark and stormy night. Please read on about these heroes. Each family has a Go Fund Me page you can visit.

Five people were killed in Stagecoach Friday night after a Care Flight plane went down on its way to Salt Lake City. The passengers included the pilot, a flight nurse, a flight paramedic, a patient and the patient’s wife.

The flight nurse has been named as 32-year-old Ed Pricola, who, before moving to Care Flight last fall, worked as a charge nurse in the Carson Tahoe Emergency Department. Pricola is survived by Lauren, his wife of 12 years, his four-year-old daughter Riley, his two-year-old son Everett, and his golden retriever, Rip.

The Care Flight paramedic has been identified as Ryan Watson. Ryan loved being a flight medic, and brought a “positive attitude to every call and patient interaction he had,” according to Savanah Green, who organized his GoFundMe. Ryan is survived by his Wife, Kailey, and their newborn Carter, who was born on Jan. 19, 2023.

The Care Flight pilot has been identified as Scott Walton. Walton was an exceptional pilot who spent years as a flight instructor, and transporting patients through Care Flight was an “absolute passion and life’s mission,” according to his sister-in-law Katie Maguire Walton, who organized his GoFundMe. Walton is survived by his wife and three young daughter

Passenger Mark (Bear) and Terri Rand were on the Care Flight trip so that Bear could undergo life-saving treatment in Salt Lake City when the plane went down. Bear and Terri were big hearted, family oriented, proud parents and grandparents, according to Misty Gruenemay who is organizing their fundraiser. (Thank you KOLO News)

Please pray for these families in pain. Please pray for our first responders and our beloved Life Flight Company. These pilots, nurses and doctors are true angels on earth, transporting very sick people to the medical care they desperately need.

Such a loss in the snowy, wind swept high plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Whatever you do today, reach out to someone that is grieving, even if it’s just to tell them Hello. People grieve for all sorts of losses. Time sprinkled with the love of others helps heal the wounded. The wounds from this tragedy will take a lifetime to heal. RIP, Our Nevada Heroes.

More tomorrow.

It’s true.

Well, at least winter’s end.

The beginning months of winter have all the fun. Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Hot chocolate. Presents under the tree. New Year’s Eve. The Super Bowl. Even in mid-February we celebrate Valentine’s Day. These events distract us from the bitter cold and dangerous driving conditions. This late in the game, it’s time for winter to pack up and leave the party. We won’t mind a bit. March 20th is just around the corner.

The only thing I miss about being a California native is that, for flat landers at least, winters were not severe. In the Central Valley of California, the weather went from fog to extreme heat (100+ from May to October). Just two weather patterns over most of the 60 years I lived there.

With the lack of four distinct seasons, there were somethings we missed out on. Puffy white spring clouds. Winds. Summer thunderstorms. A real show of fall colors. Crisp apples signaling the arrival of fall. Nope. None of those things.

We had two seasons.

Dense, Tule Fog.

Heat.

Repeat.

Well, there was one year it did snow enough to cancel school in 1960-something which was a once-in-a-lifetime event until this year. But, on a normal year, weather was pretty boring.

Here in the desert, we’re blessed with four true seasons. Although not equal in the number of days, they’re all recognizable as the seasons they are and, at this point, I’m sick of winter. Enough already.

When VST and I purchased Winterpast, my little desert town had an immediate advantage. According to yearly averages, very little snowfall was to be expected (5″ of precipitation). In Virginia City, Nevada, there were years VST tunneled through snow drifts, shoveling all day long. One year, the Nevada National Guard was called, arriving with heavy equipment to push the snow over the cliff. This desert town, with little precipitation called to us.

For the most part, it’s been a good choice. Until this year. I’ve realized snow shoveling isn’t on my list of favorite things to do.

Early signs spring’s arrival are everywhere. Bulbs that MM and I planted in the fall are now up. Some will bloom soon. Now, that’s reassuring. If only the snow would stop.

When the supply chain to an area flows through the high Sierra Nevada mountains and Donner Pass, the store shelves can suffer during the winter. This year the storms have been so severe, the pass has closed many times already, prohibiting trucks from making their deliveries. Desolate desert life takes patience and preparation. I’m lucky my little town is right off the interstate. For those that are off the beaten path, winters can be tough and you need to plan for days of isolation.

As VST and I searched for our final home over the last years of his life, I remember someone in Wyoming telling us living just 10 miles from town might as well be 1,000 during a bad winter. Truer words have never been spoken. I can hear my Wyoming girlfriend laughing hysterically right now. To her, this can’t really begin to be considered winter. She lived through the real deal for years. For me, a Cali-girl transplant, this is akin the frigid Alaskan Yukon.

As we speak, Yosemite National Park is closed until March, at the earliest. I would guess it might be closed for the year. Living in the foothills just below the park, my bestie, CC, was gone on vacation. In just days, her home (elevation 3,000) is now covered in 8′ of snow. She doesn’t know when she’ll be able to return. All power was off at last I checked with her. For now, she is staying with family to wait for the thaw.

The spring melt will be interesting. At least we won’t be hearing from the drought officials. It’s officially over this year, at least in California.

How high’s the water, Mama? Two feet high and risin’. Floods, they’re a-coming.

For now, start those seedlings indoors. Make your garden designs. Inventory your tools. Start building garden boxes. Order bare roots. Focus on new life. Spring will be upon us in the blink of an eye. Let the gardening preparations begin.

Whatever you do today, check on someone that might be snow bound or struggling with seasonal depression. Get out in the sunshine. Heck, shovel some snow. It will be good for what ails you! At least, that’s what we can tell ourselves.

More tomorrow.

To be perfectly clear, I’m not a fan of movie theaters. Periodically, there’ll be a new movie that I really want to see, but with life’s distractions, I rarely follow through. This weekend, MM asked me on a movie date and I accepted. Sunday afternoon would be the perfect time to share a matinee and some popcorn. Something we hadn’t shared in the six months we’ve known each other.

The little town to the east has the loveliest little theater. Run by the Paiute Tribe, this little theater is clean and fairly new. Ticket prices are lower than those at regular theater and it’s small and usually uncrowded. Other than the opening of Top Gun, which was filmed just miles away, the theater rarely has crowds. It was the perfect venue to enjoy our first movie together.

Jesus Revolution starring Kelsey Grammer.

If you were a child of the 60’s and 70’s, this movie will bring back lots of memories. The music alone is worth the price of admission. From Janice Joplin to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, the best songs play throughout the movie. The movie focuses on who three men from very different backgrounds connected unexpectedly.

I remember talk of the “Hippies” when I was growing up in my Volga German farming community. I’d seen lots of animals but never seen a Hippie. I’d want to steer clear of someone just this side of the local farm dogs. There were so many descriptions and warnings about THESE creatures that, to a square farmgirl like me, it seemed they’d been dropped onto the earth from another planet.

According to farmer lore in my area, the Hippies used Burma Shave signs to direct them to a small church right down the road from our farm were they could rest a spell. This little church. long ago abandoned, was set among very tall eucalyptus trees. The white paint was peeled and faded. I’m not sure if the church was left unlocked because weren’t allowed to poke around any property that wasn’t ours.

Then it happened.

One day, a hippie strolled right by our front picture window headed down the road towards the church. My mother had already been alerted to the presence of Hippies. They were following the signs to the church. Beware. Keep the girls inside. Hide and watch for any evil doing. They might be coming to steal the children. Sex. Drugs. Rock and Roll. All being carried in by those #$%$ Hippies.

During the parental chatter, I watched as a few random Hippies walked by, going in the direction of the abandoned church. Mysterious. Very road-weary. Walking slowly, they talked quietly or just hung their heads in thought.

On that very mischievous and adventurous day, I decided to investigate for myself. On that day, I could’ve disappeared and ended up dead and floating down the river. On that innocent childhood day, I just had to do what I had to do. I got my bike and headed north, towards the church and the river.

In under a minute’s time, I was standing in front of the steps of the weathered and worn church. The structure itself was a beautiful. A perfect little country church that was built in the 1920’s or 1930’s. Wooden siding. German construction. The choir had long since gone. What would be inside an abandoned church? My mind raced with possibilities, being the young writer I was.

Looking up in wonder at the bell-less steeple while deep in thought, I was startled by two Hippies. REAL Hippies. In the flesh. Not child abductors. Not murderers. Just two 20-somethings with long straight hair just like mine. A young man and woman. And no, they were not dirty nor did they smell. They’d been startled by my presence.

“Hi! Were you looking for something?”

Now, it seemed it was ME that was trespassing and interrupting their quiet and peaceful day. It was ME that was nosing around. It was ME that was making assumptions about their lives and intentions. It was ME that’d listened to rumors and formed opinions before meeting even one real Hippie.

Hmmmmmm. A lot to consider at a tender young age.

“Stay in your own lane, you young, little square,” I told myself.

“Well, I saw you walk by my parent’s place and wanted to come and meet you,” I said out loud them.

That was all it took. Up the stairs we went. They showed me around the interior of the church. So many sleeping bags and guitars. As far as I could tell, maybe six or seven Hippies were resting there as they journeyed on towards San Diego. It seemed they had something of interest they wanted to see at Pirate’s Cove. One thing I knew for sure was that Southern California was a place I’d never been. Having heard about the wild things that occurred there, it was a place I’d probably not see for a very long time, if ever.

Then, they gave me a huge gift that day. Something I hadn’t expected. They offered to take me up into the steeple to see the view of the place I’d lived since birth. Immediately, I accepted their offer. Almost like an inmate needing to know blue prints of the prison in order to figure out a quiet escape. Surrounded by thousands of acres of vineyard, there still had to be a way out. Accepting their offer, I went up the tiny stairs towards the belfry. One Hippie was in front, one behind, while I was sandwiched between the two.

It was right then that I did wonder, for just a second, if they would push me out once we got to the top. Some sort of Hippie sacrifice. These people were far too nice to be evil.

The bells had been sold long before. The little room was no more than 6′ square with a window on each side. There, I saw my entire world before my eyes. To the west, I saw the little German Protestant church in which we worshiped. To the east, I could see the town in which we shopped. To the north, I saw the great river. To the south, I could see my best friend’s house. The in-betweens held the vastness of vineyards that made me realize something. Without an education, I would be trapped by vineyard tendrils for the rest of my life.

Un-Acceptable to my young square self, even then.

No one was pushed out of the windows. No one was harmed in the visit. No drugs were exchanged. No random sex occurred. These Hippies were just some friends taking a long walk to San Diego. The church happened to be a stop on the way, known to anyone making the pilgrimage.

While watching the movie, I remembered my own experiences in our prim and proper German church. People fearful of change flashed through my mind. The movie reminded me of what great times we enjoyed back then. Hope. Faith. Love. There were lots of times, it caused me to tear up when the memories hit a little too close to home.

Whatever you do today, call a friend and go see a really great movie. Kelsey Grammer does such a fantastic job. Have some popcorn. Enjoy some Bon Bon’s. Don’t be square. You might enjoy it.

More tomorrow.

Prep Time: 20 mins

Cook Time: 45 mins

Total Time: 1 hr 5 mins

Servings: 4

Ingredients

• ⅓ cup all-purpose flour
• ¼ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
• ¼ teaspoon paprika
• 1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breast halves, pounded thin and cut into 2-inch pieces
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 4 tablespoons butter, divided
• 1 cup dry white wine
• ⅓ cup chicken broth
• ¼ cup fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons capers
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
• 1 (8 ounce) package angel hair pasta, cooked and drained

Directions

1. Whisk flour, pepper, and paprika together in a shallow dish. Dredge chicken in flour mixture until evenly coated.
2. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add garlic; cook and stir until golden and fragrant, about 1 minute; transfer to a plate.
3. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in the same skillet. Add chicken and cook until browned, about 5 minutes per side; transfer to a plate.
4. Pour wine into the hot skillet and bring to a boil over high heat, scraping the browned bits from the bottom and sides of the pan with a wooden spoon. Boil until wine is reduced by half, about 5 minutes. Whisk in chicken broth, reserved garlic, lemon juice, and capers; cook for 5 minutes. Stir in parsley and remaining 2 tablespoons butter. Reduce the heat to medium, return chicken to the skillet, and continue cooking until sauce thickens, about 15 minutes.
5. Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Cook angel hair pasta in the boiling water, stirring occasionally, until tender yet firm to the bite, 4 to 5 minutes. Drain well.
6. Transfer chicken pieces to a serving dish and drizzle with a few tablespoons sauce. Add cooked pasta to the skillet and toss to coat with remaining sauce.
7. Portion noodles onto serving plates and top with chicken.

Last night, I prepared, cooked, and enjoyed this meal with MM. Such a culinary delight, fragrant and delicious, I had to share it with you. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m not much of a cook. This dinner was so easy and delicious, I’m beginning to think there might be a cook hiding inside somewhere. Compliments from my dinner guest certainly increased my confidence. For once, I had fun in the kitchen!

Whatever you do today, look through some cookbooks and try something new. Better yet, look online. Get a little adventurous in the kitchen. You just might surprise yourself!!

More tomorrow.

Today is an absolutely beautiful day on the desert. The sky is cobalt blue. Jets leave their graffiti in long white trails in the sky. According to the chatter of the birds in my trees, more are coming soon. Within the month, we’ll get back to Daylight Savings Time and spring.

What an amazing and wonderful time to be alive. There are so many things on my to do list, I’m tired just looking at all the things I need to do as spring approaches. With the tremendous snowpack in the Sierra’s, the runoff surely to follow may even turn the desert green as the temperatures warm.

My study group met today at our usual time. As the weeks go by, I am so thankful for their friendship and love. As a little funny, we’ve named ourselves the Bible Babes. Fitting in many ways. All beautiful women in their own right, we are also young in our knowledge of the Bible. We have just started our quest to find places in our community to share our kindness and love. We are just beginning to learn more about The Bible. We’re also new friends to each other. What a place to smile. At least there is one place we can be considered Babes.

We have decided to take our special kind of fun to the local Assisted Living Facility. The last time I went there, I had a basket of Wook-lets to share. This time, I’m going to have the love of our women’s group to offer on whatever terms they will accept us. Perhaps with song. Perhaps with quiet visits. Definitely with a dose of happiness and giggles. Just the thought of what could become of this latest act of kindness is dizzying.

As for the Wook-lets, four of them have found their fur-ever homes. Homeward bound, they will leave their sisters and brother next Friday. Hard to believe that just a few short weeks ago they were little black and white blobs, totally dependent on Wookie and us. Now, they run and play. As puppies do, they are growing up.

Although there may be sadness in the things we face today, there is one sure thing. Loss and Goodbyes don’t make up who we are. I’m not the only only person to have said Farewell to a pet. The best thing to remember is that these furry friends will go on to give comfort and love to those around them. That’s just what dogs do. For me, there is comfort in knowing that.

By reading my blog, you’ve give me a place to grieve openly over the past three years. It makes every minute, hour, and day easier because of the shared experience of those who grieve. Remember what Winston Churchill said. “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” We’ll all be stronger by remembering that.

Farewell, little Wookies!! Have wonderful lives!! Wookie, MM, and I will love you forever.

Whatever you do this weekend, have some fun and enjoy the moment. There is plenty of time throughout the week to handle problems and grieve. Take some time this weekend to enjoy some sunshine, hug someone, and smile. We have so much to be thankful.

I’ll be back on Monday.

“Give It to God and Go to Sleep”. Well, some days that’s easier than others. This weekend fell in that category. Sad, because it had all started out so positively.

One of the best treats in my world is going out to breakfast on a sunny little late winter day for breakfast. Friday, the meteorologists had scared us half to death.

Snow.

More Snow.

Be prepared.

The pass is closed.

Snow.

More Snow.

1 -4′ possible.

That was what we all heard over and over. Again, why is it always the “it could happen” threat? Guess what! It didn’t amount to more than a few flakes in our dusty little town next to the interstate

So, breakfast was on at the Tee Pee Bar and Grill (TPB&G). Slowly, the place is recovering from the devastation of Covid. Patrons are returning on a regular basis. Saturday, the cutest young new waitress was shadowing another. We got the service of two for the price of one.

Scrambled eggs, crispy hashed browns, bacon, and the best biscuits and gravy in town. That’s what you can look forward to at the TPB&G. Going there with MM is an added bonus, as we usually run into at least one life long friend while dining there. MM knows the entire history of the place, down to the very hidden location one could find arrowheads similar to those on display. TPB&G is also a museum displaying artifacts of the Piute tribe collected long ago.

Anyway, the breakfast was delicious, but MM wasn’t quite himself. We’d made plans to travel to the Bigger Little City to the West to visit Costco. Any time someone mentions “going to town” to two country people, there’s excitement. With nothing specific on our shopping lists, we’d be free to roam the aisles and pick up a little of this and a little of that, as one always does at Costco. At least this one.

It was when we got up to go the car trouble hit. MM needed to stop a few times on the way because of a back spasm which became more severe with each step. By the time we reached the car, we were experiencing a medical emergency of the worst kind. MM couldn’t stand. He was in an incredible amount of pain.

I never understood back issues until I experienced them. It’s the worst pain that renders one helpless. The times I’ve suffered, I’ve ended up in bed for days. I never understood until it happened to me.

What to do?

MM finally ended up on his knees by the passenger door. Each time he tried to muscle through, get up, and get in, he would go back to his knees. Think of the Marine part of MM. MM is a TRUE Marine. This was not normal behavior for him. Usually pain free, as many men claim to be 100% of the time even when they AREN’T, he was in horrible pain. I knew I couldn’t lift him into the car. Our beautiful breakfast was turning into a nightmare on Main Street.

It was then I knew what I had to do.

I prayed for Billy.

Outloud.

I prayed for him to have a healing to allow him to get in the car. I did it out loud, right by the car, as Billy was on his knees.

Well, wonder of wonders.

Just.

Like.

That.

Billy was able to stand, although still in serious pain, and get into the car. He was also able to get through the pain to walk into the house when we arrived home.

Just.

Like.

That.

The weekend turned into one in which I got to practice domestic chores for my friend who couldn’t. Although much better, he is still mending as I write this. It was a weekend to reflect on the fact that, as humans, we need to depend on God to help us through pain and hard times.

We need to remember to ask.

He’s always there, listening.

The weekend included some delicious Chinese food from Beijing’s Best, and a homemade Chicken Pot Pie which I will talk about tomorrow. There was time to get caught up on more golf than I ever knew was televised, and hours of “Wicked Tuna”, a fishing show. It was a time that I could help someone very dear to me while he was truly down and out. Like we all do when the unexpected happens, we made the best of it.

Whatever you do today, if stuck, consider talking to God about the problem. You might not get the answer you wanted, but you might get the answer you need at that very moment. Above all, remember, when the day is done and the full moon shines the brightest, “Give it to God and Go to Sleep”.

More tomorrow.

Chicken Pot Pie has been a comfort food of mine for decades. It started long ago when I was a girl. On days when my mother was in town, shopping for an army of hungry girls and a farming husband, she would allow herself one little treat. She would stop at the Chicken Pie Shop located in a quiet little town just to the East of the Vineyards where we lived.

The shop was owned and run by Germans and the pies were out of this world. Homemade crust. Ooey-Gooey goodness waited under the perfectly browned crusts. The pies were placed in pink pastry boxes and tied with cotton string. She always bought 8. Just enough for a meal and Dad’s lunch the next day. Sometimes they were already cooked, sometimes they came waiting for the oven. They never disappointed. I bet the TJ and the Goddess of the Central Coast remember this place from long ago. Yummmm.

The shop was sold over the years. The magic was lost and the place finally closed up. Another gem of the past, gone forever.

Since we met, MM and I have been fascinated at the things we have in common. We both married old high school friends after reconnecting at our respective high school reunions. We both enjoyed long and happy marriages. We both took care of our spouses through some very tough illnesses, watching over them until they left us, both in 2020. We both garden. We are both owned by high maintenance dogs that happen to like each other. And, we both LOVE Chicken Pot Pies.

Last Saturday, Chicken Pot Pie was a natural choice for a cold, snowy day. This recipe, although not quite as good as the one I remember from childhood, is pretty good. It beats Marie Calendar Chicken Pot Pies (our favorite until this came along) all to heck.

You may want to invest in some single serving ramekins or disposable aluminum pie tins if you want individual servings. They freeze nicely. Enjoy

Almost the World’s Best Chicken Pot Pie

Ingredients

• 1 rotisserie chicken, skinned and deboned –
• 1 bag of frozen peas and carrots
• 1/2 cup sliced celery
• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/3 cup chopped onion
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon celery seed
• 1 3/4 cups chicken broth
• 2/3 cups Half and Half
• 2 (9 inch) unbaked pie crusts

Directions

1. Gather all ingredients.
2. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.
3. Debone the rotisserie chicken, discarding skin, fat, and bones. Cut the meat into bite-sized pieces.
4. Melt 2 Tbsp butter and saute the celery until soft. Then, add the peas, carrots, and prepared chicken and set aside.
5. While the chicken is cooking, melt 2 Tbsp butter in another saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook until soft and translucent, 5 to 7 minutes. Stir in flour, salt, pepper, and celery seed.
6. Slowly stir in chicken broth and cream. Add remaining butter. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until thick, 5 to 10 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.
7. Place the pie crust in a 9″ pie tin. You can also use a casserole dish of a similar size. It is not necessary to precook the pie crust. It will cook nicely.
8. Place chicken and vegetables in the bottom pie crust. Pour hot liquid mixture over top. Cover with top crust, seal the edges, and cut away any excess dough. Make several small slits in the top crust to allow steam to escape.
9. Bake in the preheated oven until pastry is golden brown and filling is bubbly, 30 to 40 minutes. (As this may bubble over, place a foil-covered cookie sheet underneath for easier cleanup.) Cool for 10 minutes before serving.

Important note !

Normally, my finished meals do not begin to resemble the photoshopped pictures. In this case, mine turned out more beautiful because I used a pretty casserole dish instead of an aluminum pie tin. I’d recommend that change.

Of course, by adding a dinner mate that also loves Chicken Pot Pie, your meal will be seasoned with happiness, great conversation, and laughter. This recipe made four large, satisfying servings, (and we LOVE Chicken Pot Pie).

Whatever you do today, remember this. Forget what anyone has told you in the past. You CAN cook. Follow any recipe and, with a little practice, you can get on that horse and ride.

Thank you to the “Allrecipes.com” for these delightful pictures and recipe. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible.

More tomorrow.

I love jigsaw puzzles. With focus, concentration, and time, a complete picture is made from a box of broken pieces. At first, the edges are the only obvious ones to be found. Little by little, the most recognizable shapes come together. Finally, the background becomes clear. Healing through grief is life’s most difficult puzzle. Picking up the pieces, a new life is created. Many of the pieces don’t fit anymore, but become beautiful memories that provide comfort along the way.

I’ve made so many missteps along the way while trying to force pieces into the wrong places. When you lose your spouse, all the edges are gone. I learned that the hard way. Lifelong “Should-s”, “Shouldn’t-s”, “Maybe-s”, and “Why Not’s” disappeared. Alone in my widow’s fog, I chose new rules for a new life. During the last 35 months, a picture is forming of a very different woman that I truly like. The real ME.

While forming new boundaries for my life, the centerpiece that had been missing the longest was found when I was baptized in on December 12th, 2021. Now, worries that used to shade everything are delivered to God in prayer. When the worry box in my head gets full, I ask for HIS help.

During the last 35 months, I’ve prayed myself to sleep, asked for the protection of angels around Winterpast and two little souls who rest inside. Sleeping peacefully provides healing during the worst life has to offer. Grief. The journey through loss and despair is unique to each one of us, but together, recognizable. It’s hell on earth. Plain and simple. Hell on earth.

Yesterday, while traveling to the Biggest Little City to the West with a dear friend, I was reminded that everyone’s journey through grief doesn’t always involve the loss of a spouse. It could be a Mom, Dad, sister, brother, or dear friend. It could be a beloved career or the loss of the best pet in the world. Life is full of grief. Life is also full of love and support to get us through the worst.

I’m so thankful for all the friends I’ve made during the last 35 months. People that’ve stopped to listen. Those that had a hug just for me. Those that shared a heartfelt tear while telling their stories to me. I’m so blessed to have healthy and happy days to share with them when life gets tough. This week, my dance card is overflowing with adventures. Lot’s of friends. Lot’s of love. Lot’s of pieces that have fit together to make the most beautiful picture of hope, faith, and a new life.

35 months. Life is good VST. Have fun up there in heaven. God will choose my ETA. Until then, please know life is really, really good here on earth.

Whatever you do today, find some pieces that’ve been missing. Change up the edges that aren’t working anymore. Find splashes of color that fit together to make a beautiful new picture all your own. Do some living! Spring is a lovely time of year.

More tomorrow.