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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

from God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women –Honor Books, Tulsa Oklahoma, pg. 173

Is or was your spouse your best friend?

How privileged you are if the answer is yes. Perhaps an even more important question to ask is this: Are you are were you a good friend to your spouse? In being a good friend, you often gain a best friend!

A true friend will let you empty your heart when it feels overloaded by stress, concern, or worry.

Sir Francis Bacon once wrote: “We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind: you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatesoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confusion.”

Listening ears are one of the best gifts you can give to your spouse or children. Such ears are invariably connected to a kind and patient heart.

Make friends with the four C’s:

Compassion

Caring

Consideration

Comfort

These four traits will never grow old or out of fashion.

A friend is one who comes in when the whole world has gone out.

Remember, to have a friend you must be a friend. Whatever you do today, take some time to listen to another who needs to talk a bit. It can make all the difference in the world.

More tomorrow.

They’re Gone

As you shed tears that they’re gone
Remember to smile because they’ve lived

While closing your eyes to pray they’ll come back
Open your eyes and see all they’ve left

Of course, your heart’s empty because you can’t hold them close
But your heart also remembers the love you shared

For a time, you’ll turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
With time, you’ll be happy for tomorrow BECAUSE OF yesterday

You can remember only that they’re gone
Or you can cherish precious memories, helping them to live on

When grief is new, you’ll cry, close your mind, and turn your back
And then, one fine day you’ll do what they would want:

Smile.

Open your eyes.

Love.

And then….

Go On.

Grief. Up and down. Like being tossed around in the highest seas. More lonely than a desert highway. But, like boats on the ocean or a car in the desert, we’re just passing through our grief. Don’t stay there too long, for all the world’s mysteries and tomorrows are too precious to waste. Keep going, in spite of the grief. It WILL get better.

More tomorrow.

_{Based on original poem “He is Gone” by David Harkins}

Death Is Nothing At All

By Henry Scott-Holland

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet agai

Whatever you do this weekend, fill it with wonder. Look at the activities in your town and pick one. You might be surprised how many things are happening during these last days of spring. I’ll be traveling over Donner Pass to enjoy a family graduation.

More on Monday.

Life is beautiful. We walk through life with all kinds of people that help us through the tough times. Moms, Dads, Sisters, Brothers, Aunts, Uncles, Friends, and even Strangers. Send this love song to the person that helps you through your days.

Life IS beautiful. Life IS wonderous. Those stars ARE shining just for us.

Love to you all.

More tomorrow.

Road work! My little town is on fire with Road Work. It started on one of the main connecting streets in town right in front of the school. They put the finishing touches on the new street on the last day of school. It’s now come to my quiet little neighborhood. We should all be careful what we wish for. Wishes can turn into noisy projects.

Saturday last, a note was left on my door. In part, it advised that this would be the week for Road Work in my little neighborhood. There could be times that I couldn’t leave Winterpast for up to four hours. They would let me know. If I had a valid reason to leave on one of the five days listed, I was advised to call John Smith. It gave his number, the lucky man.

Well, I DID have a reason to leave yesterday. My annual eye appointment. Not such an easy thing to change, but it was moved to September. Sunday, I went to the grocery store and finished stocking up on perishables. I’d be happy to comply with their wishes. After all, I’m retired. Besides, Wookie is here for Doggie Camp. I don’t want to miss out on the fun!

Well, Monday came and I worked outside in the garden without leaving once. Not a sign of the road work. Tuesday came and went as rumbling excavators got closer. In the afternoon, I saw a truck at the corner of my street, while Winterpast rattled during the road work. I would assume that today is the day for my street, but I’m certainly not going to be one of those old ladies bothering Mr. John Smith.

“John, I have Bunco at 3. Where will the girls park?”

“John, can I still walk in the afternoon?”

“John, my dogs are afraid of loud noises, please stop.”

I’m sure John’s phone is ringing off the hook with calls from my Octogenarian neighbors. Around here, we don’t get more noise than the birds bring on the wind. A thunderstorm rattles us. No car or truck noises. Nothing. Just beautiful peace and quiet. Until this week.

In the harsh environment of the high plains desert, the roads take a beating, along with everything else around here. Buildings look ten years older than they are. Roofs are often patched due to random spring hail storms. The wind helps sandblast anything in its way. With the snow in the winter and 110 degree afternoons in the summer, the roads are pot-holed, some resembling swiss cheese. Upkeep is a constant problem.

Mr. Mayor, who just happens to be the Mysterious Marine’s brother, battles fiercely to fund necessary repairs. For the first three years I lived here, nothing was repaired. Our old mayor had fifty reasons at the ready why our roads were not repaired or replaced.

“Why, Miss Joy, that would take $1 million dollars a mile to fix those roads. Our little old town doesn’t have THAT kind of money, Honey.”

Well, HE isn’t here anymore. There’s a NEW mayor in town. One that speaks weekly with the Nevada Governor, Joe Lombardo or shares a cup of coffee with Elon Musk now and then. That’s OUR major. He’s getting things done. (TESLA is just up the road. Elon is in town more than one would think.)

One thing about inviting change, is that sometimes, the change can be painful to those in the middle of it. As I mentioned, one of the best things about our little town is my neighborhood of peace and quiet. I can actually identify birds in my yard by their little songs. No Jake breaks rattling. No traffic noise. Nothing. Just the sound of the wind as it races off the mountains and across the desert.

While visiting with Ninja Neighbor, she shared something worrisome. There’s a new exit being planned for the interstate. A new industrial park. A new stream of activity that will be pouring into my little world, right on the other side of VST’s mountain. Right through BLM land (The ORIGINAL and ONLY BLM — BUREAU OF LAND MANAGEMENT). This highway would travel right behind Winterpast. Right through the horses we love. Right through the quiet of the desert, shattering any quiet we might have enjoyed.

Could be great for property values. True enough.

Might really be great for the growth of our town. Growth is wonderful, right?

Maybe it’d bring a couple new schools and another grocery store out our way. We sure need those!

Listening to the racket from a little bit of street repair, I could think of a hundred reasons it won’t be so good for a very, very long time. I’m old. I don’t have a whole lot of time left to find out if it’s good or not. That will be proven long after I’m gone.

Today, I’m going to be glad that the repairs are just in my neighborhood. So lovely to drive on newly paved streets, it’ll be great to have a center line. We don’t have that now. One has to be careful to stay on their own side of the road.

Change.

It’s inevitable, but sometimes a little uncomfortable. Still searching for a cabin by a meadow where the wild bees swarm. It’s just past the rainbow where the soft breezes blow. Just a little place that glows with candlelight every evening. Until I find it, Winterpast will do just fine, even if it’s a little noisy right now.

Whatever you do today, find a little time to enjoy some quiet. Silence is healing. Find the kind of quiet in which you can almost hear your own heart beat. That’s hard to find these days. When you find that kind of quiet, listen to your own thoughts. Now, THAT doesn’t change.