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Recipe by Reeni…Thank you for a wonderful dinner!!!
Prep Time: 20 mins
Cook Time: 45 mins
Total Time: 1 hr 5 mins
Servings: 4
Ingredients
â…“ 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
â…“ 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
Whisk flour, pepper, and paprika together in a shallow dish. Dredge chicken in flour mixture until evenly coated.
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.
Melt 2 tablespoons butter in the same skillet. Add chicken and cook until browned, about 5 minutes per side; transfer to a plate.
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.
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.
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.
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!!
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.
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.
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.
Ed Pricolo
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.
Ryan Watson
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.
Scott Walton and Family
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
Mark and Terri Rand
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.
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.
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.
March is just around the corner! This is the time of year when Mother Nature can’t make up her mind allowing for plenty of indoor time for spring cleaning. That was Monday’s plan. My closet has been in need of a great purge for a couple years now. The day had finally arrived.
Weeding through a wardrobe can be a little difficult. For each piece, memories of the purchase and events to which the garments were worn swirled in my head. Some of the discards still hung with tags. Some of these items were just wrong from the beginning. Everyone has a few of these in their closet. Monday was the day I decided to fix the problem. Closet space is premium real estate in anyone’s house.
First there was one bag. Then, there were three. The final number now resting in my very new trunk equal six. Six bags of clothing that have never seen heavy wear. Each bag holds treasures for someone else to enjoy. All clothing is clean, pressed, and folded. Ready to unfold, hang up, and sell. A purse and pair of brand new shoes hopped onboard. Yesterday was the day to drop them off.
I knew the thrift store hadn’t yet opened, but decided I’d just leave the bags behind the store. This store receives consistently positive reports from friends. People who shop there find the cutest clothes, often bragging about great quality and low prices. True treasures. My donation would fit perfectly in this store.
Driving around the back of the store, I was absolutely shocked. It was as if a group of playful puppies had been at work, emptying each of the 20 or 30 boxes and spreading the contents across the back wall of the store. It truly was a horrible mess created by people that obviously weren’t raised right. In short, it was a thrift store disaster.
I’ll never understand the total disregard that some have for the belongings of others. in this case, it would be delightful if license plates were caught by security cameras. But, thieves in the night are usually successful. It’s sad that this theft resulting in such a huge mess.
At any rate, I would leave the six bags right next to the door. It was daylight now and surely the owner would be happy to receive such a nice donation. My bags held items ready for pricing and the shelf. No muss, no fuss.
As I stepped out of the car to open the trunk, a car came screaming around the corner, parking in haste. The driver’s side door flung open and out popped a very angry woman. It was obvious the owner was just arriving to work to find this horrendous mess. She was not to happy.
“No. No. No. Don’t leave anything. No donations accepted today. Maybe none tomorrow either.” Her words flew out of her mouth like daggers. The message was clear.
Leave.
Now.
Well, alrighty then.
I’ve become increasing irritated at thrift stores and the mind set that all donated items must be new. All items must be this years styles. All items can have not one reason they wouldn’t be hanging on the racks at the local Nordstrom’s. I mean, really? What part of Thrift Store isn’t clear?
Without missing a beat, I got back in my very new and beautiful car and drove away.
I won’t be donating there again. I may not donate these clothes. They may have the fate of castoff’s during Covid when all Thrift Stores were closed. At any rate, they won’t be on her shelves. Of that, I’m 100% sure.
There is something to be said for being grateful and gracious. If her response would’ve been a little calmer, I would’ve been happy to spend an hour helping her clean up the mess.
To the people that ruin this for the rest of us, what a shame. I remember when Thrifting was fun. I always felt good that someone could enjoy the items I had used and loved along the way. Somedays, memories of the 1900’s make me so sad. Things really were that good back then.
Whatever you do today, think about starting your plan for spring cleaning. With Lent beginning today, Easter Sunday will be here in the blink of an eye. Take time to observe a period of moderation and spiritual reflection. Weed those closets and donate your castoffs for the benefit of others. Just try to avoid the stressed out owners.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. For those of you that are new to my blog, I must tell you that I’ve very rarely used real name in this blog. Privacy is a lovely thing and names of those I love are precious and private. Even my late husband true identity hides behind the letters VST. This title was assigned him by my very own God Mother, TJ. Very few know the real meaning of the letters VST, but if you did, you would surely smile as he always did in her presence.
For the last six months, I’ve been spending quality time with a Mysterious Marine. In the beginning of our friendship, we were both mysterious, with lots to share about our lives. Widowed, both, we’d experienced the mysteries of life and death as we said tear-filled Goodbyes to our beloved spouses. Years earlier, in very separate lives, we’d both been reunited with them through class reunions after life had beat us up a bit. We both married these high school friends and went on to enjoy amazing lives. The more MM and I talked, the more we shared in common and, over time, the less mysterious he’s became.
Both of us share faith in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. We enjoy attending Bible Study and Church together, each taking turns reminding the other that Sunday is God’s day. We both pray over our meals, remembering family, friends, and those that have gone before us. Our relationship with God is at the center of our world.
There are some other oddities we have in common. He’s from a family of five brothers. I grew up in a family of five sisters. We are both grieving gardeners, who both found healing as we turned our houses into much loved homes. Both of us are keen on keeping a clean and tight ship. We both own dogs that just happen to love each other. We love our little town, the dusty wide spot along the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.
I wish I could say that we’re a match in the kitchen. Not quite, but at least we’re complementary. He cooks and I clean up after enjoying delicious meals he’s prepared. No mystery that I’m clueless in the kitchen, once having torched a completely great microwave and stove by forgetting hot oil on the burner. Blonde lives in the roots, even after the hair turns grey. I have great respect for fire in the kitchen and anyone that can tame it enough to cook.
After spending our first vacation together, I’m happy to say that we have similar traveling styles. We’re both morning people, although I think I have him beat by an hour. I’m trying to be more of an evening gal, but find my lids closing an hour earlier than his.
We both enjoy our separate homes and time apart. We both enjoy a variety of hobbies and plan to share those in the days to come. We love laughing about the silliness in life. What hasn’t killed us has definitely made us stronger. We are both survivors who have experienced loss at its worst. Life is to be cherished, and we find ways to do that every day!
Everyone knows, Marines are mysterious in their very nature. They were trained to protect and defend. Early on, they learned loose lips sink ships, and kept their own secrets. There lies the mystery of the man. A little mystery is exciting, while evoking wonder, curiosity, and surprise. I can’t wait to learn more about this Mysterious Marine in the days, weeks, and months to come.
I will share one last adorable story with you about this Mysterious Marine and wonderful Doggie Dad.
Wookie is back home. The wook-lets had no more use for her and, quite frankly, she was missed by her adoring fans back home. On Day 2 without her littles, Wookie was quite uncomfortable. Her milk factory was ballooning and it was obvious she was in distress. It was then I got the sweetest call.
“I’m worried about Wookie. She is really swollen. Do you think I need to buy a breast pump?” His voice announced his concerns with quiet compassion as he worried about his canine friend.
A breast pump for a dog? I was raised on a farm. This was a first. I must say, I didn’t quite know how to approach this problem. I had to Google it.
After two trips to the store and the removal of five ounces of dog milk (which looks just like cow’s milk, if you were wondering), Wookie felt much better and was every so grateful to her Doggie Dad. He is a special guy indeed, and yes, Wookie is much better. Nature has a way of handling these problems. Wookie reduced her food and water intake on her own and is now returning to normal. With lots of hot compresses, she’s been one pampered pup.
These days, I may need to change MM’s title. Although still Mysterious in the best ways, he is also Magical, Miraculous, Meticulous, and Magnificent. An all-around great guy with whom I enjoy spending my time.
Whatever you do today, spend some time talking and laughing with someone you care about. Having a side-splitting belly laugh over something silly like milking a dog is a good thing. Heck, Wookie joined in with her million dollar smile (Yes. The dog smiles.) If she could smile at a time like that, we could all take a lesson or two from her. Appreciate your own special friends and be sure to let them know how much you appreciate them. You’ll be glad you did.
Vacations come slowly, and then quickly turn into the sweetest memories. 2023 Holiday #1 couldn’t have been better. Every morning began with coffee and a picture window sunrise. Every evening ended with laughter and great conversations before sleep arrived. The hours in between were filled with everything from elephant seals to time at a real castle. Through all the beauty and wonders we experienced, there were two hours of sheer enchantment. One with a Godmother and the other with a true Goddess.
There are some people in this world that are so wise and amazing that just to know them for a moment is a golden gift. To be so lucky to know them as friends and family is miraculous. Such it is with these two women. In my world of long ago, going to the beach meant pajamas, coffee, and a week with my Godmother. One in which we would never leave the house, or even the couch, but spend hours talking and laughing about this and that.
My Godmother, TJ, and I are not born in the same decade, as you might guess. Chronologically, she is 20 years older. As souls go, we are exactly the same age. Throughout life, she has provided a window into what my future might be like as I aged. During milestones in life, I made notes of her journey, hoping I could remember which turns to take 20 years down the line.
Not often do we find a role model to look up to throughout an entire life. Even less often is that person a close family member as special as a God Mother. I’ve been that blessed during all of my 67 years to know she has always been there, never injecting herself into my decisions, but leading by example with her amazing humor, wit, and wisdom. When everyone else was too busy, TJ, was always there with a smile and hug.
As the Mysterious Marine and I prepared for our beach adventure, I talked endlessly about seeing TJ and another Coastal Bestie, the Goddess of the Central Coast. There is just so much to share about these two women. MM would listen intently, probably thinking I’d lost my mind. How could two women be so intriguing? So beautiful? So beyond perfection? In MM fashion, he would just smile and assure me he’d look forward to meeting them both.
We chose Valentine’s Day for our visits. This was extremely sweet of MM, as he had asked that Valentine’s Day be reserved for just two. We planned an hour’s visit at each stop. With roses in hand, off we went.
Arriving just before 1 pm, TJ greeted us with open arms, as always. I have one familial soul mate. It’s my God Mother. I haven’t one little doubt that when we get to heaven, we’ll have eternity to sit in our PJ’s sipping coffee while the days pass slowly. For now, I was blessed with a golden hour. It was as if we’d been living next door to each other and not one minute had passed since our last visit.
During this hour, something magical happened. MM was enchanted, as well. Sucked into our conversations, we laughed as we shared stories of the past. Time bandits consumed the hour, making it seem like minutes. With a scheduled arrival with the Goddess of the Central Coast at 2 PM, we had to leave far too soon.
On the drive to our next visit, MM used the following adjectives. Amazing. Enchanting. Wise. Sweet. Charming. In 4 minutes, we’d arrived at our next stop. You cannot keep a Goddess waiting.
When a woman owns the title Goddess of the Central Coast, you should have no doubt that she shines as brightly as the moon over the Pacific Ocean. Bright and enchanting, if not for TJ, I would’ve never had the privilege of meeting this beautiful woman. They’ve been besties and neighbors for a very long time. The Goddess is truly a woman of grace and courage. Because of her status as the Goddess of the Central Coast as well as a Sister in Christ, her house was spared during an incident with a rogue wave. Other houses in the neighborhood had broken windows and even worse damage during a violent storm that hit just weeks ago. While bravely hunkered down in her house, the wave tore off shingles while lifting her deck off the pilings.
Of course, the Goddess of the Central Coast was blessed with just the right circumstances to have captured a video of the rogue wave hitting her house. Her roofer had come to do some minor work and was atop the roof when it hit. He captured the entire event. Mind you, the wave went over the top of the two story house right next door. A huge log was tossed up and then washed back into the sea, destroying some railing. Watching the dramatic and breathtaking images it was obvious that roofer must have nerves of steel. The camera never shook. Coastal Goddesses and their people are strong!
During the next 20 years, I want to remember the road maps these two remarkable widows have taken. I’m sure they both still have moments in the wilderness of widowhood still. Each woman was married only once to their own remarkable man. But, when forever vows faced death, they weathered their own private storms. They became stronger. Wiser. More beautiful. They didn’t stop living, but went on to create a new life of their own choosing. No rocking chair with a box of Kleenex on the side for these two. They continued on.
The hour with the Goddess evaporated just as quickly as the previous hour had. Although we would’ve loved to have spent more time, the rest of Valentine’s Day belonged to just us. As we drove away, MM just shook his head.
“These women were more wonderful than you could have ever explained.” I just smiled. Another memory shared.
Today, whatever you do, go visit the Goddesses of your life. If you can’t visit, call. If you can’t call, email. Tell them how much you adore their smile, wit, and charm. Tell them how beautiful they are, because, as everyone knows, God Mothers and Goddesses are the most beautiful women in the world. Cherish them.
To the untrained eye, nothing has changed here in the desert. At a first glance, it’s just the same old barren winter landscape. A little snow here, a patch of brown there. Nothing much going on. Until you look closer.
Daffodils are breaking ground, along with the other bulbs MM and I planted in the fall. Spring is ready to pop in just a few more weeks. March 20th marks the day. But, then, there are the last few precious days of winter to enjoy. So many new experiences to enjoy.
I’ll be taking a much needed break until Monday, February 20th. During that time, I plan to sleep in way too late and eat three meals a day. I plan to hug old friends and make some new ones. All the while, I’ll make notes about great things that need sharing upon my return.
Whatever you do, find a little rest and relaxation for yourself. Self care is important during stressful days. Unplug and enjoy a little sunshine. Take fifteen minutes to release yourself from the worries of the day and just be. Don’t forget to hug yourself. Things are headed towards better. Believe it.
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