OVER THE MOUNTAIN & THRU THE WOODS ...

I spent most of the day preparing for tomorrow’s Bazaar in Rosburg.

Potted sedums & Christmas Cactus’ are tucked into their tagged crocheted covers.

The cactus slips remind me of my life following Bob’s ‘graduation’; and how I’m salvaging the broken pieces and nurturing them to take root and become whole again – apart from the original, but healed and thriving again.

There are buds on every Christmas Cactus slip.

Boxing up the sedums and cacti.

Adding a small $-Tree wire rack for remaining potted Christmas Cactus’.

Tightly packed upper layer, so the potted containers do not shift enroute tomorrow and lose their buds.

A small plastic spoon was added for more bolster support.

My 3-year-old White Christmas Cactus has been in bloom for about 2 weeks.

My 19-year-old Pink Christmas Cactus had started to bud, about a week ago … and in bloom this morning :-D

My Geranium slips are coming along fine; and the Pink Begonia stalks are rooting.

Tomorrow I will be leaving Longview before the AM rising sun dimly brightens the horizon.

I will be driving through fog patches along the Columbia River route (and praying there will be no falling rocks careening off the rocky bluffs), and driving through lowland valley fog patches; as well as crossing the fog shrouded KM (902 ft. elev.) – which is really just a big hill, as it falls 100 ft short of actual mountain status: and it’s not that difficult to scale on foot, either (I’ve hiked over the KM many, many times – it’s was a looooong country-mile-walk, but it was not too strenuous).

However, since the hill started slipping and sliding in the 1980’s, any travel over that route is tricky: the hill continues to slide when the wet season rolls around.

It has begun to rain.

The wet season is settling in.

The KM slid pretty bad in February 2020.

The roadway is still a construction site.

None of this would bother Bob.

But, Bob is no longer a traveling companion to me, here on Earth: he has been riding the clouds beyond the blue for 22 months/16 days/13 hours & 9 min’s … to be exact.

Moving through creepy fog bothers me.

It is disorienting.

It can be startling.

My upended life has been mysterious enough throughout my brain-fog-solo lobo journey …

… I don’t need the added stress atmospheric fog creates along the highway.

All your senses go into High Alert.

It’s a good thing to be more aware.

It’s a bad thing to be constantly on-edge.

It’s a good thing to mentally stimulated.

It’s a bad thing to be driving blindly.

Fog is a double-edge sword.

The drive to Rosburg from my carport here, is about an hour’s drive on clear, sunny days; it will be a little longer tomorrow morning if the fog is thick.

It will be a lot unnerving.

Rosburg Hall from Longview – about 59 minutes (46.8 miles)

The car is loaded.

Car loaded and ready to go tomorrow morning.

And, the alarm clock is set.

I also made a little solar lamp thingee to place in the wrought iron holder alongside Bob’s cremains placement in our Plot Block in Eden Valley Cemetery. I’ll drive out there and do that following the Bazaar tomorrow afternoon, before heading back home.

Solar Lamp & Greenery I will be placing on our Plot Block tomorrow after the Bazaar.

I won’t be back this way again until Spring.

SEASONS

There are seasons in life when you just go with the flow.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T82nu8Q6T_c)

Yesterday … and today … was one of those ‘seasonal’ times.

Yesterday was “payday”; so, I spent the entire day in town grocery shopping, and taking care of business that needed taking care of.

First off – to the bank.

I have a Bazaar coming up Saturday: I needed ‘kitty money’ and to ‘top’ the gas tank off.

Filling the gas tank was easy-peasy.

I even managed to wash the windshield without getting glared at. There was no car waiting behind my car with a fidgety person shooting me the evil eye. I’m short – standing on my tiptoes and stretching the best I can across the hood of the car to weld the squeegee (and hope I get ALL of the windshield I can see) is not a simple matter – washing the windshield can get dicey at the gas terminals.

The cashier at the bank was another matter altogether.

First, a masked ‘world-wise’ 20-something barked at me that I need to wear a mask; and thrust one at me through the bottom opening of the counter-to-ceiling-Lucite partition that has been newly installed. I say, “I can’t wear a mask, I have asthma – and I don’t have to wear a mask per State mandate”. She cops an attitude and glares at me through the Lucite. I unwrap the mask, hook one loop over my right ear and hold the mask loosely – very loosely – away from my mouth and nose … and stare back at her. I tell her what I need: she retrieves the amount from her till and proceeds to throw it towards me, across the counter while barking out the count. I notice she is not wearing plastic gloves, and think ‘I ought to remind her that she ought to be wearing gloves with the mask, if she’s so effing scared for her snarky life’; but I shrug instead and say under my breath, “There would be no point – you can’t talk sensical logic to an churlish dumbass”.

I scoop up the kitty money, shoot her an eyebrow-smile … and pointedly drop the offensive mask into the trash while she watches.

Season #1: I don’t care anymore about being nice to offensive people. That season has come and gone with the crass 2020 rudeness.

I drove to Winco to do some light grocery shopping – I was intending to just pick a few things up: I didn’t really need anything but Pinsol and Comet; and 2 pieces of fried chicken for a brunch snack. While I was turning from the Deli, I thought it would be nice to grab some Spice Drops in bulk, too, to take me happily through the Winter months 😉

I didn't cry when I saw Bob's favorite candies.

But while I was standing there, 2 women were loading up alongside me, and the masked one of them got testy because the unmasked one dared to collect her items without plastic gloves.

And an announcement came over the speaker system: “We here at Winco want to thank all of our customers for shopping with us; and to remind them to wear a mask …”

That was it.

That was the trigger.

Remembering the crappy way I was treated by the snarky cashier at the Bank.

Listening to the bitching dumbass woman alongside me.

And being harangued by an invisible dumbass over staticky airwaves above me.

I pivoted, spied an abandoned cart at the end of the isle … and started walking briskly through the store loading up on everything I thought I might need to coast me through the Fall and Winter months; and into March 2021.

Season #2: Practicing sanity-saving-hibernation for a few months.

The cart was heaping by the time I unloaded it onto a free conveyor belt.

I overspent; big time.

I didn’t care.

I had reached my ‘dumbasses!’ limit.

People have stopped treating people respectfully during the 2020 political madness. And there’s no where to escape the madness: every State – every town/every community – has brainwashed morons in it, intent on making life miserable for themselves, and you. There is no escape.

I may live in town, but I have a country frame of mind and {holing up for the Winter} sounds mighty good to me.

Closing the Highlander’s hatchback, I decided that before I headed back home, I’d give Dr. Tack’s Office a jingle and have him recheck my glasses lens: they are still not working for me. Seeing anything in the distance is still a bit blurry.

I was told to “come right over.”

So, I drove the 2 seconds from A to B.

Only to be treated like a leper as soon as I cleared the threshold.

Obviously, the receptionists – there were 3 of them – had received the same newsfeed about the scary superbug teaming up with covid.

A laser beam was shot through my forehead by a 20-something girl who glared at me like she wished it was a real gun held to my head. When she read the reading, she actually looked disturbed that I was not one of the walking dead.

I almost burst out laughing at her crestfallen expression, but reined myself in as I was led to a cubbyhole waiting room far away from everyone else.

I was okay with that.

I wanted to be far away from everyone else, myself.

Season #3 was kicking in: complete disinterest in anyone. I am ready to take ‘social distancing’ to new heights, and bug out: waaaay out.

People, in general annoy the hell out of me; all the 2020 craziness people have immersed themselves into, is really the limit.

A technician came in, asked me a few questions, took my glasses – checked them over, came back and said, “they look fine.”

I said, “They may look fine, but they are not ‘fine’; the lens’ are still blurry.”

An appointment was made for Monday morning.

Oh, goodie.

I live for abuse.

Maybe they’ll make the finger-cross-sign at me on Monday.

That thought made me laugh as I walked from the cubbyhole room to the door.

I wouldn’t be surprised – nothing surprises me anymore, given the crazy daze happening all around me.

After I walked out the door, and before I fled back home from downtown; I drove over to the Dollar Store, and grabbed some trash bags for the kitchen, a 2021 Calendar, and an inspiring Appointment Book.

2021 Calendar & Appt. Book with my 2021 Moto.

I believe my prayers are heard by Elohim before I even utter them

(Isaiah 65:24 & John 5:15)

Elohim favors me because I am His daughter (Romans 8:16-17 & Ephesians 2:8); I am still a work in progress. I am a daughter loved by her Father.

My cupboards, makeshift ‘pantry’ in a spare closet, ‘fridge, and freezer are sufficiently stocked; and I’m good with paper products, and cases of water: as soon as restrictions eased and stores started restocking shelves again  (before insleeze went off the deep-end again), I started buying a little extra every month and storing it away, knowing the demonrats would dredge up another ‘deadly pandemic’ before monsoon rains settle in, and skimpy snow begins to fly.

I bought scads of books at garage sales throughout Summer months: anticipating the newest round of hysteria.

The Winter scare tactic came right on cue: 2 weeks ago, with a big headliner announcement of a “Killer Superbug” riding the coattails of covid-19 “Winter arrival coming to a town near you!”

With fucci’s grinning rat face, and the WHO’s never-ending-hype liberally sprinkled throughout the article.

This hysteria will go on forever.

It’s the demonrat Golden Goose.

Pandemics made to order for every political coup they can hope to pull off.

There will never be an end to it, because while they insist “President Trump must do something!” – they refuse anything and everything he does: including the vaccine they are screaming is “UNSAFE!”

When I got home I unloaded the car, put everything away, and worked some more on the little baby sweaters I am knitting. It’s a simple pattern, so I could veg out while working and just relax without thinking too much 😉

1st sleeve finished on the Baby Sweater. MB-3MO

Back & 2nd sleeve finished on the Baby Sweater. MB-3MO

Around 9:30 PM, I ran an update on the laptop and tried to reboot it … and all that came up was white screen.

I checked the internet connection; it was fine.

It was a mystery.

I had been so worn out by the day’s unfolding earlier in the day that I was too exhausted to work up any frustrated exasperation.

I just shut it down and went to bed, planning to take it into Kelso in the morning, to be fixed.

Babe, if you had been watching me, you were proud of me.

Bob - 2004

You heard me laugh.

Twice.

In 3 separate, and frustrating instances.

You saw that I am learning patience.

This morning, I was up and out the door early.

Heading to Kelso (maybe 15 minutes away) to have the laptop checked out and the white screen back to normal.

I dropped it off at 10 AM, explained the issue, and came back home.

Hours passed.

I played a few games of Solitaire.

Solitaire - a first for me in this game.

Only game I won out of about 10 of them ...

I started reading one of the books I’d bought at an August garage sale.

Book I have started reading. I've seen the movie - didn't care for it. Books are always better.

Breakdown of Book's storyline.

I like ‘gotcha!’ stories when the weather turns gloomy … I know: I’m weird.

The story started moving along rather quickly ...

The knockoff price is suddenly clear - pages have had some of the story shaved off!

My laptop was back home by 5:20 PM, and I was notably poorer.

But, for the moment, the laptop is working again.

And Elohim is faithful to keep me financially fluid.

The past 3 months have been tight ones, but I am still managing to keep my head above water.

After supper, I starting working on the second baby sweater.

2nd sleeve, 2nd Baby Sweater. NB-3 MO

I am trying to restructure a whole new life.

I need calm vibes.

I refuse to get caught up in the continual nonsense.

If I have to create my own calming environment in this Season of my life, in my Autumn years – I will.

I want a life of peace, love, and joy …

That is my prayer.

That is what I expect.

BEAUTIFUL LIFE UNFOLDING

There is always a cold snap before a thaw; Yeshua designed life that way: some things do not grow unless there is a freeze involved.

I’ve been going through various stages of {freeze} for 22 months of my new solo lobo life – emotionally and weatherwise: twice emotionally … three times, weatherwise … since December 2018.

The third freeze happened over the weekend, when Jack frost paid a local visit:

Frost on the roofs around me.

The Fall of 2018 was very painfilled.

I didn’t notice much of that Fall and Winter – ALL my focus was on my husband.

Though I had been married to him for 44 years and knew everything about his voice, his features, his mannerisms, his thoughts … my teary eyes drank in MORE of him.

He was getting ready to step off this planet and into a new life I would not be privy to until my life on Earth wrapped up to.

I wanted to infuse more of him into my memory data bank.

And though I did occasionally glance out the hospital windows, my eyes still only saw Bob – they did not pay attention to the changing leaves when they put on their bon voyage colors, pulled away from the skeletal tree limbs, hitched dizzying rides on the frosty breath of Jack Frost; and blew past the window panes.

I barely noticed snowflakes when they silently began their dancing drift downward to fall and coat the winding thoroughfares of the OHSU Complex.

Everything seen the Fall and Winter of 2018 was shadowed by my husband struggling to shed his earthen vessel and comfort my spirit, consecutively.

It took 106 days for our goodbyes to be completed.

The rest of the Winter, I sat in Bob’s recliner and looked out the window; and cried when the snow fell, because Bob would never again share those moments with me.

My eyes did not acknowledge the beauty of the Fall and Winter of 2018.

The Fall of 2019 arrived to find me in a funk.

Much of 2019 had passed in a nondescript blur: I moved through my new station in life in survival mode.

I dreaded the arrival of Fall.

I felt I could learn to hate Fall and Winter – the 2 months that had always been my favorite months of the year … and I now found them repugnant.

Logically, I knew that Fall and Winter didn’t deserve my shunning: it wasn’t their fault my life had been so altered.

But I couldn’t help the emotions that rose up within me.

I was punch-drunk with surging waves of grief that constantly kept me unbalanced; and heart-sick with searing loss.

Memory kept replaying over and over again reels of decades-long moments in time that left me staggering down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams … like a tormented soul, hoping for relief – yet boomeranging back to more bruising.

I knew I needed to break free; but I didn’t know how.

I pushed through the Fall and Winter of 2019, cocooned in Bob’s lingering love, and wrapping myself in comforting sorrow.

As weird as it may seem to some … sorrowing backtracking down Memory Lane off and on … actually kept me sane.

22 months later, the Fall of 2020 seems to be trying to enlighten me.

I am looking out my windows with a refreshing frame of mind.

A few months ago, when I knew Fall was on the horizon, I did dread its arrival.

But I was overthinking.

I was doing what was expected of most widowing people.

And I know better.

I know overthinking leads to defeat.

Crippling defeat.

I have never lived my life in defeat.

Ever.

I am not about to start giving into it at this stage of the game of chance that has become my new life.

I started actively redirecting my thoughts.

One day – a couple days ago, a friend actually helped me with this action; a few encouraging words of a posted reply to something I had mentioned pulled me out of the slumps and opened my eyes to an alternate way of viewing my new life.

I am grateful.

I am thankful to have such a caring and compassionate friend.

Over this past weekend, while relaxing in my set-aside-‘Island of Rest’ hours … I sought Elohim’s guidance, Yeshua’s love/grace, and the Ruach’s wisdom. I settled into a comforting {family} pow-wow setting, quietly relaxed with a soothing activity: and listened to the still small voice (1 Kings 19:12).

2018 caused an earthquake in my life that unsettled it and 2019 resulted in reconstructive rebuilding following clearance of chaotic fallout.

2020 saw me safely through the fires of my life: in a personal manner as well as generalized wildfire disruptions.

The ambiance of the electric fireplace seemed fitting 😉

Relaxing indoor ambiance.

Relaxing indoor activity.

Knitting 2 at once

As the still small voice ministered to me, my spirit was soothed.

Always be open to alternative {ideals}: be flexible to change.

As the new week dawned, Guidance highlighted awaiting possibilities.

Hardship hones character and builds strengths previously unknown.

I could seize joy in the moment; I could actively push back the gray days, actively color my world with flexible plans (with God as ‘a Team’), and sail through the Fall and Winter months with renewed hope fueling my new life with the oomph it has been lacking.

I came across this article – it resonated.

(https://www.lifehack.org/839686/seize-the-moment)

Love and Grace assured me that possibilities were well within my grasp.

I am in the “R” phase … I intend to reinvest in my Solo Lobo Life using original principal, along with any interest that has accumulated: I am going to take advantage of bonuses, consider time deposits, build a {ladder} – staggered with maturity dates, switch to a high-interest account, and consider a rewards account 😉

Even the impossible can be possible according to His Plan.

Wisdom is taking a firmer hand and bringing my scattered thoughts to heel.

Purpose, and direction, are penciled into my forward momentum again!

I have 5 months to set aside some $$$ and plan mini vaca getaways when Spring rolls around in 2021.

Those 5 months will give me the time I need to hit that ball coming at me clear out of field and risk making a home run … I normally don’t make a move until I see that all the bases are manned, guaranteeing a home run.

The still small voice tells me I need to step up to bat and take a risk.

This is a “biggie” moment for me.

It will take all of those 5 months to get me to the point of standing confidently in the Batter’s Box, hoping to make Home Base.

While it is true that tomorrow is never guaranteed, it is also true that a prudent person makes flexible plans anyway – knowing they are ultimately in the hand of God: but idleness is never an option.

The making of plans gives us something to look forward to … even while knowing our lives are not guaranteed.

Life is to be lived; not endured.

Some people make struggling through this life an ordeal worthy of Oscar status.

I choose to be a beautiful butterfly!

But I don’t want to move too fast.

I am waiting for the still small voice to whisper, “now …”

I will need those 5 months to complete the catharsis process.

I will need time to lay a foundation that will have room for all of my life in it.

I’ve never had to “make room” in my life before.

There was always Bob.

Only Bob, no matter who I was with before Bob – Bob was always there.

Our life together was fated before we were born.

Bob was always ‘my guy’.

Always.

But Bob is no more.

Bob is still very much a part of my life … but Bob is no longer a viable part of my life.

It’s complex in its context.

It’s confusing to those who do not understand the nuance of the context.

It’s frustrating to ME, who is living through the complexity.

It’s sorrowing.

It must be faced.

And dealt with.

I do not belong to my old life anymore: Bob is not here – that life is gone. G.O.N.E. It no longer exists; there is no room there for me, anymore.

I have prayed a specific prayer – I must find a way to dovetail the realities when I step up to bat and eye the outfield.

I’m not in the game for romance: knowing men, already I should be standing on 1^st base.

But I’m also not interested in sexcapades with a new man (no other man can fill Bob’s shoes: Bob was a wonderfully pleasing partner) – that sends me back to Batter’s Box with the Umpire calling ‘foul ball!’

I’ve got to trust Elohim to get me that {‘safe!’} home run in the Spring thaw, while my beautiful new life is unfolding in the Fall and Winter chill ...