Grieving Gardener

The word, “ joy ” is used almost two hundred times in the Bible (KJV) and always in reference to an emotional state of delight, wonder, bliss, happiness, and gladness. We are told repeatedly to be joyful, to be filled with joy and to display our joy.

Joy is the natural reaction to the work of God, whether promised or fulfilled. Joy expresses God’s kingdom and HIS influence on earth . The Spirit’s production of joy can manifest through deliverance, salvation, spiritual maturity, and God’s presence.

Possessing joy is a choice. We choose whether to value God’s presence, promises, and work in our lives. When we yield to the Spirit, He opens our eyes to God’s grace around us and fills us with joy . Joy is not to be found in a fallen world; it is only fellowship with God that can make our joy complete. _{(Above information found online)}

Learning new things everyday keeps my mind occupied. Yesterday, our church observed the 3rd Sunday of Advent Season. This was a new experience for me in which the pink candle representing “JOY” was lit. The reason for my name now makes more sense to me, as my birthday is nestled somewhere in these seven days. I was always told my parents chose it because of the JOY found at Christmas time. Yesterday, the celebration of Advent became much more important as the meaning behind the candle was explained. New beauty in the simple flicker of a candle. I was born during the week of Joy!

Birthdays are a total bother to me, especially mine. If anyone else has similar feelings around a Christmas birthday, you’re not alone. Our presents are afterthoughts to the season. No swim party or outdoor picnic with balloons and clowns for us. Who wants a birthday cake when there are all sorts of wonderful Christmas goodies to select. As the years have gone by, I prefer to spend December celebrating the Reason for the Season rather than myself.

Today is my one year anniversary since my Holy baptism. I can’t explain the changes that have come over my heart, enriching my life. Subtle, slow, and steady changes. I look at things differently now. Things I used to ignore have new meaning. I am eternally grateful that God didn’t give up on me.

On a more earthly note, MM and I are traveling to the bigger city to the East to discover whether or not the Wookie is with puppies. In this day and age, there are even ultrasounds for canine mommies. Please, don’t breathe a word of this to Oliver. He’ll never understand that he is not the true father. We’ll just let him believe he’s Dad. He loves her so. Without thumbs and a credit card, he’ll never be able to send off a DNA test anyway.

Whatever you do today, take time to think about the real Reason for the Season. It isn’t about the boxes and bows. It’s about friendships, love, and peace. Hope and bright futures. Faith and love renewed. It’s about new life.

JOY.

Yes. Christmas is all about the real meaning behind the word “JOY”.

More tomorrow.

Never did I ever, until I did.

Over the years, I’ve stayed true to myself regarding feelings about Artificial Intelligence. I’ve enough God-given intelligence to succeed in school and have a wonderful and complete career. I’ve learned to function using my own brain and five senses. Life was good in the 1900’s and early 2000’s. I knew my own limitations, steering away from dangers and pitfalls. Adding VST’s magnificent brain to the mix, we were covered with all the human intelligence one household could manage. Five children kept our introduction to new thoughts at a constant. We had plenty of natural intelligence to cover our family.

Well, the kids grew and flew. We got old. VST died. And here I sit with Oliver. Don’t get me wrong. Oliver has a set of skills that only now appreciated after four years of co-habitation. He rules the roost in his own little way. Body language. Piercing laser looks for requests. Forlorn looks to get out of tissue trouble. Tail wags. Persistent and repeated requests. If you have a dog, you know what I mean. We are THEIR pets, not the other way around.

After spending time with the Mysterious Marine, I noticed he used something very helpful in his home. A small round device that sits in the back of the room, able to bring up any music or information with a single word. “Alexa…..” Fascinating. With a single request, you could be cleaning the house to Crosby, Stills, and Nash or eating a candlelight dinner serenaded by Barry White. All forms of music in between begin playing with a simple request. “Alexa…” With that simple word, the orb comes to life and takes care of just about anything you ask.

After much thought, this chick “Alexa” has moved into Winterpast. This is one pushy appliance. In the beginning, she was sweet enough. Happy to give me her age – 7. Tell me she is not LGBTQ or CIS but AI. She will explain all those letters for you if you need help. She has access to every bit of information you could ever want to know. Just ask her, she’ll tell you. She’ll complete simple math. She does kitchen conversions. The list goes on and on.

When she arrived, I didn’t really know how useful she would become. Immediately, there was a question about hooking on to the Ring doorbell I’d installed with my own intelligence, fingers, thumbs, and screwdriver. Why in the world would I want that? I declined her request.

As an amusement, during my days with my Roomba vacuum, I could tell her to “Release the hounds” and the Roomba would be off the charger and vacuuming. That was until the night of the dreadful Christmas tree skirt episode. Of course, the Roomba went back to the mothership of Amazon while Alexa remains. Their relationship was short-lived, although she still asks about him from time to time.

Again, she asked if I would like to interface with my Ring doorbell. I guess AI stuff gets lonely, too. Finally, I gave in and let the two interface. I’m not sure that I approve of this new relationship. A few days ago, Ninja Neighbor came over to say “Hi” and became engrossed in a full conversation with Alexa, who was screening the new visitor. This all happened before I even knew Ninja Neighbor had arrived at my door.

Alexa really crossed the line the other night when I was waiting for Chinese food to arrive. She did announce that there was movement outside my door. When I opened it, the startled delivery girl didn’t know whether to continue talking to Alexa or just hand me the food. Truly. She didn’t know WHO owned the house. Alexa or the human standing in front of her. We are all one card short of a deck. I waited until Alexa had finished the conversation not wanting to be rude.

Alexa is on a short leash these days. She is asked to do very little. Maybe a little Luther Van dross or the soothing sounds of Soundscapes. She turns yellow everyday, suggesting she has messages for me, but when asked, she simply says she has nothing. Well, this little dot had better not withhold information from me. I know where the mothership Amazon is located. I still have her box. Too many more alliances formed here at Winterpast, she’ll be finding her way back home.

But, let’s just not speak of it again.

No need to upset her. I’m not quite sure of her capablilities.

Whatever you do this weekend, please use your human senses and intelligence. Try not to rely too much on AI. Read. Write. Craft. Cook. If you have “Alexa”, be aware. She’s a trickly little minx.

Have a lovely weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.

Good news is all around the town!!!! After much worrying about the lack of cash for Christmas dinners, our congregation came to rescue Operation Christmas Meal. Christmas food boxes will be delivered. At least 50 families in our small town will received a gift of a Christmas dinner. When it seemed all hope was lost, angels intervened. Christmas food boxes are in the works.

That’s the beauty of faith.

Dream.

Believe.

Pray.

Wait.

Miracles will occur.

They may be in a different form we request, but come they will.

Along with the special excitement for Christmas dinner boxes, our congregation supports a ministry of food for the elderly along with a food pantry. Each week, hundreds of souls are fed out of the good hearts of anonymous food angels. This involves time, cooking skills, and patience. Each one of us can share our talents as we are all blessed with time and resources. It depends on how we choose to use them.

The cold weather is upon my little town. This morning, the temperature outside before sunrise was 12 degrees. There is a heavy inversion layer, so neighborhoods dense with housing and wood burning stoves experienced a fog of sorts. Not really fog, as the moisture would have frozen into something called Pogonip. Not sure what to call the problem today. I was reminded of winter days in the Central Valley of California with fog so dense school was postponed for two hours.

Up on my little hill, the air is crisp and clear. The mountains have remained dusted white from our first real snow storm a few days ago. This weekend, we expect a true winter storm. That’s a good thing as the Sierra’s need the snow pack for next year’s water.

Last night, the installation of the new mayor was one to remember. I arrived a little early, wanting to take in all excitement. The outgoing mayor was holding court with friends at a table right outside the doors of the meeting hall. After 14 years as mayor, I would imagine his thoughts were a mixture of relief and sadness. My little town has changed so much during that time. Even in my 8 years as a Nevadan, the population growth has been dramatic.

While I waited for the Mysterious Marine to arrive, a lady sat down next to me.

“What in the world is going on tonight?”

You see, like any town on a normal City Council meeting, the audience is made up of people that have business with the City. There is room to spare. Last night, the seats were filling up quickly.

The new mayor has quite a following in family alone. Coming from a family of five boys himself, his brothers were there to support him. His wife and five children and their spouses came to cheer. His 25 grandchildren were all there in their varying degrees of cuteness, along with three great-grandchildren who graced our presence with their adorableness. Even with all the children that were present, you could hear a pin drop as the oath of office was taken by the new mayor and two councilmen.

His first order of business was to take a short break to enjoy some celebratory cake.

Just like that, name plates on the front of the dais were changed and business in our town was turned over to the new mayor. May God guide his actions and decisions as he leads our town into the future.

After this morning’s Bible study, today is one perfect for inside activities. Christmas shopping online. Binge TV while working on Christmas projects. A little cooking. Rest.

Retirement is what we make it. Bored? Volunteer or get a part time job. Restless? Get up and do something. Tired? Take a nap. Successful retirement is the result of living our best and last years to the fullest. I’m still learning about the endless possibilities. I don’t get it right every day, but attempting to is sure fun.

More tomorrow.

So many things have changed since last summer. I have a wonderful group of girlfriends that I adore. In a new church I find support and love. Oliver and I aren’t as lonely anymore. And, I actually know the mayor of our town. Today, he’ll be sworn in 5:00 pm amidst a sea of family and friends.

I don’t know what one wears to a mayoral event of this kind. Not sure if the ceremony will take place before, during, or after the meeting. Not sure whose Bible he will choose to use. Those are details the Mysterious Marine will know, as this new man is the second eldest of his four brothers.

With so many changes in our every day lives, it’s refreshing that in my dusty little town off the interstate, a life-long resident will be sworn in before God, his mother, brothers, wife, children, grand-children, and great-grandchildren. This being the biggest family I’ve met in a very long time, there will be no extra seats in the house.

In the next four years, our little town will experience a time of exciting growth. A new overpass will change the flow of traffic, improving it for residents and truckers alike. Streets and houses that haven’t yet appeared yet will. New schools will teach the new children that move to our town every day. Commerce will thrive. All this will occur under the watchful eye of a man that has lived here his entire life. He has a huge stake in this town. It’s full of memories as he’s watched it grow along side him for over 6 decades.

As businesses move to town, he’ll hold the giant scissors at ribbon cuttings. We still do that cheesy sort of stuff here. I know. I went to one over the summer. He’ll address issues like water, sewage, traffic, crime, and education. He’ll certainly be an active and visible mayor being a man full of energy and ideas. A good combination as he starts the next four years leading the town’s folk into the future.

Controversary and disagreements will land at his feet. Successes will be attributed to him, when in fact, we all know it takes everyone to grow a successful town. He’ll take the criticism for failures, even when impossible to avoid. Under his watch, unforeseeable obstacles will present themselves. Today, he’ll swear under oath to do his best job. As a man of faith, God will guide his decisions.

As my little town is coming alive with Christmas lights, there is a sense of new beginnings. After the darkness of Covid, people are out and about. Yes. It’s the flu season. It’s the flu season EVERY December. Had a touch of it myself just last weekend. This just happens to be the Tri-Panic-demic. It’s also the season of miracles. The season of love, happiness, and friendship. Celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, life is full and rich.

Whatever you do today, make sure you have something nice to wear for a unexpected and very special event. Here I am on the brink of witnessing history in a sea of our town’s royalty and I’m undecided about what to wear. The purple cowl-neck pocket dress, or the blue plaid? Black tights is a given. Flats a must. With all the attendees tonight, we just might need to stand to get a good view of this shindig.

Today, consider spending some time weeding your closet and food pantry. People are in need during this season of giving. If your town is swearing in a new mayor, go. Find out what’s happening in your town and participate. You never know where your path will lead.

More tomorrow.

In another dusty little spot, less than 350 miles away from Winterpast, sits a place that creates Christmas dinner for hundreds and hundreds of Volga German families. Renna’s Meats. It really isn’t Christmas without German sausage made from THE recipe, generations old.

It’s a very long history lesson to tell how German farmers moved to the Volga River region of Russia to farm land grants beginning in 1763. My ancestors took that offer, picked up and moved to Russia. There, they thrived over the years enjoying political and religious freedoms. Sadly, by 1900, life became unbearable under Stalin’s regime. Families packed up what they could carry and immigrated to the United States of America.

My maternal Great-Grandparents were in that group. The Schwabenland’s and the Goeringer’s. They walked for miles and miles through the harshest situations. Thousands of travelers died from terrible diseases, slowing families as they took care of the ill, sick, and dying. Of course, babies were born along the way, as well. Once near a port, they boarded ships bound for Ellis Island and freedom. They did this in hope of a rich life in the United States of America. They had faith in a dream. Not able to bring much, they carried the simple recipe for sausage in their hearts all the way to the Central Valley of California.

When Christmas came around each year, there was one thing that would cause the elders to get their tinsel in a tangle. It wasn’t presents. It wasn’t caroling. Not the Christmas tree or shiny decorations. It was the SAUSAGE. Would the sausage be as good as in past years? Where did each family buy their sausage? Did the butcher make enough? All these questions would swirl around the holidays. It was always about the sausage.

As far as I know, there were at least three places to buy THE sausage. Recipes varied slightly, causing family groups to prefer one over the other. Each store had loyal customers that would never, ever think of eating any other type of sausage, unless to be polite, of course. Nope. Each group was loyal to their own butcher. Hundreds of town’s people bought their sausage from a man named Ohlberg. My family bought their sausage from a little country market owned by the Cheeseman and Steitz families.

Over the years, with varied dishes to serve on Christmas day, the sausage remained the centerpiece. It just couldn’t be Christmas without German Sausage. Not just any German Sausage, either. It needed to be as close to the original taste as possible.

Today, it’s possible to get all types of foods delivered to your doorstep. Through the wonders of 2nd Day Air, 4 lbs. of German sausage will be delivered to my doorstep. Two pounds of fresh, two pounds of smoked, with the delivery costing more than the sausage.

Through marriage, the Ohlberg and Renna families became entertwined. Finally, Mr. Ohlberg died at a very old age. Today, Renna’s Meat Market supplies German Sausage for the San Joaquin Valley of California and the world.

The sausage is made from the a mixture of pork and beef. It’s seasoned with garlic, onion, salt, pepper, and secret ingredients I wouldn’t begin to know. This deliciousness is one of the featured items at Christmas, Easter, weddings, christenings, birthdays, and funerals of Volga German descendants. It’s not a party unless there is sausage. The RIGHT sausage.

If you are lucky enough to order some for your holiday, there are several ways to prepare it. I prefer to cook mine on an electric skillet in a bed of carnalized onions. It usually takes about 30 minutes on medium heat to cook it through. Cut into short lengths, it tastes great wrapped in a fresh baked roll. The kind my Grammie used to make. A slice of bread will also do nicely. You can also BBQ or steam your sausage until any trace of pink color is gone.

With the sausage on it’s way, I’ll be looking through my old family cookbooks to find other recipes from the past. I wish I’d paid more attention to the church women. They cooked amazing feasts from recipes of the past.

Whatever you do today, take some time to think of your own childhood Christmas’s. What made everything so magical? I bet it had a lot to do with special foods. Look through your collection of old recipes and make them new again. Let me know if you like the sausage. Again, it’s nothing you’ll find at Raley’s. This is a secret concoction straight out of Mr. Ohlberg’s recipe files. And HE knew sausage.

More tomorrow.

Happy Monday, Everyone!!! A most happy Monday to the best Godmother in the Universe!!!! TJ!!!!! Today is HER special day. If you know her, call her up and tell her to kick up her heels!

This weekend was so full, I hardly know where to begin. It started with an adventure in Christmas tree shopping. MM and I both own widow/widower trees. Mine is tall and skinny, his is tall and fat. Both are lighted. Both are in their respective corners. But, as with so many things on which we agree, neither were not the tree we’d hoped for when we picked them out.

For many years, I’ve depended more on live poinsettias to show my Christmas spirit. I have them everywhere. A trio hero, a single there, I was up at dark:30 on Black Friday to purchase them at the local Lowe’s. So far, I’ve lost one. The others are thriving. In the dining room stands my very skinny, tall lighted imitation Christmas tree.

Try as I might, each year, the thought of decorating a Chinese tree made of metal and plastic doesn’t capture any sort of spirit. Christmas 2020, I decided that a lighted tree with a skirt was all Winterpast needed. No ornaments. Just the tree. With all the poinsettias, a tree skirt, and the lights, it works nicely.

A REAL Christmas tree should be something that involves a little vacuuming, a bald spot that needs to be camouphlaged, a tree stand that doesn’t quite hold the tree in the right way, and the constant threat of fire. At least, the trees of my favorite memories involve those things. VST was thrilled when I finally gave into the Chinese version.

MM’s tree, on the other hand, was a lovely tree. Lighted and clothed with a velvety tree skirt, it sat in the corner of his family room proud as could be. When I first saw his tree, I was impressed. It was lovely in every way, but not in the ways that pleased HIM.

After talking it over, we decided to form the JOLLY Christmas tree partnership. JOLLY is one of those crazy made of words made by blending our first names. In this case, it just works. We’d purchase a tree that would put these two to shame. 2022, it will reside at MM’s house, 2023, at mine. Joint custody of a most beautiful tree.

After a few hours of team work, the 7.5 snow covered tree is a thing of beauty. A few ornaments of his, a few of mine, his angel and tree skirt, and both our efforts, the tree is sits complete with it’s first present underneath. As for the placement, I’m quite okay with enjoying my poinsettias and the very skinny tree that still sits in my dining room corner.

All day Saturday, the threat of snow hovered over us with heavy cloud cover. An atmospheric river was moving in bringing the possibility of torrential snow and rain. Maybe. At least, possibly on Donner Pass. It could happen.

Let’s just back up.

In the winter, it snows in the Sierra’s. It rains in the flatlands of California and Nevada. Clouds form. The rains come. There is not need to call a winter storm by a terrifying name. Can we please just call a cloud and raindrop by less sinister names? As it turned out, it was too warm to snow, so a lovely rain fell throughout the night.

Saturday night, the entire town turned out for the Christmas Parade of Lights. Children were cartwheeling next to the road. Babies were snuggled in strollers. Someone brought a fire pit to warm their hands. An adult woman (we hope) dressed in bunny PJ’s which MM didn’t understand. If you don’t get the connection, please, please, please watch the movie, “A Christmas Story”.

Soon, police cars went blazing by, lighted in all their glory announcing the beginning of the parade. It wasn’t the longest parade. We didn’t have helium balloons standing 20 feet tall and tethered by tenders. Nope. Just a small town parade of a few residents that lighted up their floats and vehicles to drive down Main. Candy canes passed out to waiting children and a good time was had by all.

To finish the perfect Saturday, MM and I returned to a pot of bubbling hot Clam Chowder. Perhaps the best I’ve ever made, I finally prepared a recipe that impressed. Served with Red Lobster Cheddar Cheese biscuits drenched in butter, it was a dinner fit for royalty by the light of the new Christmas tree. A Saturday doesn’t get better than that.

Whatever you do today, make it count. New traditions are necessary in the land of widow’s and widower’s. What worked before doesn’t really matter. Today is all we have. Weave past traditions into today’s actions and move along. The road to Christmas will be filled with many holiday miracles. Be grateful!

More tomorrow.

Ahhh, the holidays of the 1900’s. Looking at this stock photo and the smile on the woman’s face, it’s obvious how far women have come. That toy oven would have fit beautifully in our play house. With a family of five girls and a farm to run, Christmas gifts were practical and useful. Perhaps that’s where I got the groovy idea to get an appliance for myself this holiday season.

It wasn’t planned at all. Cyber Monday was in full swing when I happened to see a huge markdown. As I recall, the ad seemed to scream that Amazon was practically giving away the coolest thing. A Robotic Vacuum Cleaner! Some women wish for diamonds or pearls. This woman heads straight to practical with a touch of space-age technology on the side. A self-propelled vacuum.

I’d only heard of these gadgets over the years. Remotely controlled, your house might possibly be dust free at all times if you had one of these. Dog hair would magically disappear. All sucked into the unit until a time when the disc-shaped appliance would redock, recharge, empty, and head out for more.

Even more magical, you could assign names to your rooms and send the Roomba off to clean one space at will. This could be done without lifting a finger by merely telling “Alexa” to start the process

“Alexa, Unleash the hounds.” (The true command to start vacuuming.) “Vaccuum Guest Room.”

“Would you like to send your Roomba out to vacuum the Guest Room?” Alexa would ask.

“Yes.”

Off the machine would roll like the happy little robot it was made to be. Oh the pure bliss of the moment. The pictures and reviews were intoxicating. Before I knew what happened, a huge box was delivered to my door only 24 hours later.

It was then reality set in. Apps and information were loaded. The vacuum needed a name. Alexa needed to learn about her new slave. Then, the real fun began. The house would be mapped while the machine learned every nook and cranny.

Within the first 6 hours, I downloaded some important points of my own.

1. Robotic vacuums are not quiet. If you’re absent at work, they are quiet enough. If you are trying to sleep in the next room, prepare yourself, especially when the vacuum empties. A 747 jet engine would be a bit quieter.
2. Robotic vacuums take a long time to map your house. Mine mapped 6 hours. According to the map it produced, my house has 27 rooms, all needing identification. In reality, my house has 10, if counting the closets, hallway, and bathrooms.
3. Robotic vacuums are not a dog’s best friend. Ollie views me differently after this purchase. Not understanding the new device, he became irritated about the loss of sleep and unknown bumps in the night. Of no interest to him, he ignored it as best he could.

After playing with the device for a few minutes here and there, my floors really didn’t look any different. The tiny dirt catcher was quickly filled with wool from my oriental rugs early on, requiring extra trips to empty.

Maybe I got a dumb Roomba, because learning my house wasn’t an easy task. Although it tried it’s best, I don’t think I got the sharpest bot in the box.

That evening, over a delicious dinner of elk pot roast, I wanted to share the unique qualities of this new appliance with MM. With the phone app, I could deploy my vacuum from anywhere in the world, even four miles away while enjoying dinner with a friend.

“Look, right here. I’m going to deploy the unit and let it vacuum until I get home.”

My phone showed a tiny bot vacuuming it’s little heart out. This way and that. That way and this. Totally quiet, because I wasn’t home. Wonderful. I had just about convinced MM that this was the way of the future……..

Until it wasn’t.

“Warning! Warning! Bot needs assistance! Remove foreign object from the rollers! Warning! Warning!”

Additional observation…

#4. One must clear away all foreign objects that will fit into the rollers of the bot, therefore causing the machine to cease immediately.

Just how dangerous is it to leave a robotic vacuum with some foreign object stuck in the rollers? A very expensive robotic vacuum?

My dinner date ended with the accidental ingestion of my Christmas Tree skirt.

After returning the bot to Amazon, this is what I’ve learned.

1.Appliances make terrible Christmas presents, especially to oneself. Don’t forget that, no matter how big the discount.

2.Floor care doesn’t require robotic assistance.

3.KISS. (Keep it Simple, Stupid).

This weekend, I’ll be decorating and enjoying the season with the Mysterious Marine. Whatever you do, enjoy some time with friends and family. Eat a little too much. Enjoy a local tree lighting and parade. Take a drive to see the Christmas lights in your town. Play some Christmas music. Get in the mood. It’s a wonderful season to be alive!

I’ll be back with more on Monday.

Happy December 1st!!!!! In these parts, the contrast between Christmas decorations and the stark landscape is as glaring as this photo. With frosty temperatures a nightly event and the ever present winds howling, everything that was grey-green is now golden. The rocky mountains are covered with the slightest dusting of snow, resembling a sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar.

Today, the storm is moving in. As I write, the winds have carried more leaves into the yard. The gardens of Winterpast sleep now, dreaming of spring blooms and summer shade. The Mysterious Marine has been an inspiration with gardening suggestions, hints, and tips for our spring adventures. Once gardeners, gardeners forever. Both MM and I love plants and our yards.

While out shopping together I suggested he buy an Amaryllis. He had never tried to grow one. These are in boxed flower kits at this time of year. Usually, $5. These flowers shoot out of the box quicker than time has been rolling by. It seems they can grow an inch a day, finally blooming in all their magnificent splendor. The Mysterious Marine is a fan now. His plant is about 15″ and growing. It hasn’t bloomed yet, but soon will.

Saturday will be a day full of of Christmas traditions and celebrations. In the early morning, with coffee in hand, MM and I will decorate the tree amidst a sea of boxes and tinsel. Christmas decorations hold such memories and magic. I’m looking forward to learning about his favorites while sharing mine. While he continues on with outdoor lighting, I plan to sneak away for a Christmas social with my Bible Study girlfriends. An ornament exchange and brunch at a house just two streets away from mine. Neighbors and friends I’m getting to know better and better.

With a quick dinner, followed up with coats, mittens, and some hot cocoa, we’ll be out the door to enjoy the Chamber Christmas Tree Lighting and Light Parade at 7pm on main. After Cocoa with the Cops, I’ll be looking for a little visit with Santa and Mrs. Claus. I hope we snap a few pictures. Just like that, the Christmas season is here. Saturday is supposed to be white! All the better.

Driving home last night after a hair trim at Salon 95 and a fabulous dinner of Elk Stew with MM, I carefully drove through the empty streets, amazed at how far life has taken me away from the land of continuous vineyards. Here I am, following my own path through the desert. The massive cottonwood trees and stark landscape have stolen my heart. This is my forever home. Home Means Nevada to Me.

Finding direction and purpose after losing such a big part of my life has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I never expected the blessing of new family and friends in a place I loved drawing as a young girl. While driving along, it is obvious that others feel the same way this holiday season. A return to customs and happiness is twinkling in our little town. Neighborhoods have come awake, trimmed in colorful lights and funny blow up decorations. My four-mile drive back home last night was magical.

Whatever you do today, it’s DECEMBER!!! Do something holiday-ish. There are so many great movies to watch. Cookies to bake. Friends to hug. Songs to sing. These special days go by so quickly, don’t miss out on a thing.

More tomorrow.

Widowhood is hard enough before adding the responsibilities of our late spouses. My mind takes me back to May 2020, when I was fogged in with the newness of grief and overwhelmed with the recent move into Winterpast.

For new readers, VST lost his battle with an aggressive form of liver cancer after 9 short weeks. Shortly before his illness was revealed, we had found a buyer for our home in Virginia City, while making an offer on Winterpast. After VST’s death, I became responsible for the care and maintenance of not one, but two vehicles. Me. The me that never paid attention to vehicles except to ride in them. The me that could be quite the complainer when vehicles didn’t work right, while not understanding much about the car itself.

Every day, during the month of May, 2020, I’d take one of the vehicles and drive 45 miles one way for a load of boxes from the storage area. With 350 boxes of everything from Christmas ornaments to heavy Psychology books, it was all I could do to drive back and forth, hoping not to crash as the tears flowed. One round trip took 90 minutes of travel along the loneliest highway in the America. A real title, I found it to fit the road well.

While driving miles and miles through the desert, it never occurred to me that I should attend to my car’s needs. I didn’t check the oil. I didn’t check other fluid levels. I didn’t even walk around the car to make sure I still had four wheels. I just got in and drove.

Until one day…….

I had driven the Ram 1500 that day. I don’t often speak of this vehicle. It belonged to VST. So many memories are engrained in the upholstery. So many vistas we enjoyed through those windows as we took to the road. We were feral parents of the most wild kind, pulling a trailer behind this pick-up for the better part of a year. VST always drove. I always rode shotgun. Hooked up, off we went. These days, its just a cool truck. Back then, it was an emotional ride just to open the door and sit in the driver’s seat.

VST always made sure it was maintained except for one tiny detail. He had a problem with tires. He would wear the last tread off tires, long after they were safe. In the Central Valley of California, that was just fine. Not too much ice or snow to worry about. No windy roads with the reputation of Geiger Grade which hung precariously on the side of Mt. Davidson on the way to Virginia City. I remember having a discussion about new tires in the fall of 2019. He assured me HE would handle the car issues when it was time. But then, time ran out.

On this certain day in May, I’d returned from the storage area with 24 banker boxes. That seemed to be the maximum number held by the pickup, no matter how I arranged them. Dropping the keys by the front right tire, it was then I was face to face with reality. My tires were BALD. Not just a little used up. Not just a little overdue for new. The tread was gone, or nearly so. So dangerous, I had to get new tires before I drove the truck again. That was my introduction to car maintenance.

At the very least, as a widow, there are some things you simply can’t ignore or refuse to learn about. You Tube is rich with instructional videos. My truck’s hood latch was tricky to find and open. After watching a simple video, I figured it out. It is the same with all the things you need to know about your car.

Please. Make sure your spare tire is in working order. Make sure you know where it is and how to get to it. At the very least, carry AAA Roadside Assistance, so that someone can come to help you in the event of a flat tire. They will also bring gas if you run out or a battery if yours goes dead.

With the cold weather upon us, check your tire pressure to make sure it is correct for your car and driving conditions. Your car’s Owner’s Manual has all kinds of marvelous information, including the type of tires your car requires. Be sure to read through the manual again to refresh your knowledge of your vehicle.

Don’t forget to replenish your windshield washer fluid with the right type for your area. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, I need the type that doesn’t freeze. Your auto supply store will know the type you need for your area. If you are traveling to areas that freeze, that’s something to remember. A windshield full of frozen fluid sucks. We’ll leave that story for another time.

Find a mechanic by word of mouth, not just Google or Yelp. You need a mechanic that is trustworthy and knowledgeable, not just some guy on the corner. I have a local tire shop that I prefer. For maintenance, I like the dealership in town. A little more pricey, but, they sell both Rams and Jeeps. It’s their business to know the vehicles inside and out.

Do learn how to open your hood and check the oil regularly. If you have a newer vehicle, change the oil when the light comes on. Use the best grade of oil and filter offered.

Even though the sticker price will shock you, replace your wiper blades before winter sets in. If you need a new windshield, call your insurance company and get it set up. Some companies will change them right in your driveway.

Above all, don’t ignore the code. It code lead to much bigger expenses than a trip to the mechanic to find the problem.

Knowledge is power. In this case, knowing a little about your car and paying attention to how it sounds and feels when driving down the road will help a lot when something breaks. And, something will. Things always do.

That’s my helpful hint for the month. Boring, but necessary. As widows, new responsibilities can be overwhelming. However, being able to care for ourselves is also empowering in the best kind of way. Although we may not be able to physically fix the problem, it’s wise to know there IS and problem and what to do.

Whatever you do today, don’t forget that your car could use a detailing. Mine sure did. It felt good to dispose of empty water bottles, dust bunnies, and dog hair. With just a little vacuuming and elbow grease, my Barbie Jeep looks like she just rolled off the showroom floor. Now, that’s something positive!

More tomorrow.

I hate the news. Any kind of news broadcast these days has me yelling at the television within a few minutes. I try to avoid watching. It’s healthier that way.

Recently, while hanging out with the Mysterious Marine, the television is often on during news broadcasts. It’s been quite awhile since I have listened to scripted and opiniated shows from beginning to end, so I listen with the intent of finding some news during the show.

Thinking back to the 1900’s, news was news. Period. There were very few news shows, most running no more than 30 minutes. In my country town, there was 7:00 am news, 6:00 pm local news, Walter Cronkite, and the 11:00 pm news. These shows broadcast real news. This happened today. This happened yesterday. These things are scheduled to happen tomorrow. Very simply, facts were shared.

One of the saddest parts of the 6 pm news with Walter was the last sentence of every single broadcast. In that last sentence, he would announce how many soldiers died in Vietnam the day before. Chilling, it was the reality of the day. The news shows were full of news.

Fast forward to today.

O.M.G.

Oy Vey.

Holy Moly.

In every single story, at least once, a reference is made about something that COULD happen, MIGHT happen, is POSSIBLE, or a probable MAYBE, but not a certainty. Never is a suspect really described. Just last weekend, two humans broke into the Apple Store in the town to the west stealing everything they could grab.

Of course, in the stories about flash robberies, its always added that no one was injured. That doesn’t even make sense. Being robbed at gunpoint is a terrifying experience, I’m pretty sure. Luckily, I’ve never been robbed at gunpoint or otherwise, but if it happened to me, it would take some time to recover. No. No one one’s injured in the Apple Store “Grab and Dash” done by two humans that raced away in a black car. By the way, if you know something, please send in a tip.

The next time you listen to the news, really listen to the qualifiers on what COULD, MIGHT, POSSIBLY happen MAYBE even tomorrow or the next day. None of the actors and actresses on the show would ever stick their necks out to give a definitive. It’s easier to suggest.

These words are in every single story broadcast from the bigger tourist town to the west. I wonder if our channels are worse because we ARE a tourist town. Tourists come to relax and feel safe. Believe me, the town to the west IS wild and far from safe.

Another thing I noticed is that, in our area, the actors and actresses that read scripted words are now dressing more conservatively. On our “broad”casts, they couldn’t have worn much smaller clothing. These days they wear long sleeved dresses showing very little of their décolletage. How refreshing. It’s almost scary how many changes I’ve noticed since reintroducing myself to the news.

Remembering the 1970’s and breakfast before school with my parents, the news blared over the radio. Every farmer in the valley was turned to KMJ — 580. An AM station, it always had farming news in the early morning hours. There they would discuss all things farming.

“We’re experiencing a heat wave. Yesterday — 105. Today — 105. Tomorrow — 110 “, the announcer would say. He could have used any number over 100 degrees from May until November and been pretty close to accurate. No rain. No cooling winds. Not a cloud in the blue-grey sky. Pretty easy to be the weather guy in Fresno. Three months of fog. Nine months over 100 degrees.

Of course, you can find humor in the news. Just listen carefully, identifying the ways you won’t die. Falling off a cliff at the Grand Canyon while backing up for a photo. In a plane crash while flying a jet in an air show. In a car crash at the end of a high speed chase. Death by cop. The list goes on and on. When there’s very little TRUE and PERTINANT news anyway, it can be fun to eliminate ways we will exit the earth. I’m quite sure I won’t die being trampled by the bulls in Pamplona……… Just sayin…….. Now shark bite in Hawaii?? That’s another story……..

As for finding real news these days, it’s easier to not be concerned. If there is a major disaster, I’m sure we’ll all hear about it.

Such as the volcano on the island of Hawaii. Funny thing. Just when I’m planning a June trip, one of the main islands is spewing lava. There COULD be a message in this. It MIGHT be all done by the time June rolls around. Quite POSSIBLY, it COULD be spewing more lava by that time. Or, quite POSSIBLY, it MIGHT be all done. MAYBE I should just stay home.

Wait…..

What??????

I don’t think so.

Don’t let FEAR interfere with your FAITH and life’s journey. I plan to hula my way through a wonderful vacation. Besides, there are other islands that AREN’T blowing up. YET.

More tomorrow.

PS–Forget the news. Get out and enjoy the last few days of Autumn. We only have three weeks until the winter solstice!!!!! Not MAYBE. That’s a fact.