DEALING & OVERTHINKING

5 weeks … possibly 6; before I can get back to traveling further than 10 minutes into the heart of “downtown” – or a “safe” half an hour to the next county.

Hopefully, by the middle of March, things will start drying up around here, and I can travel quite a bit further afield.

And with an outpouring of divine mercy, I may even get to travel between the two States flanking the Columbia River.

In the meantime, with the seemingly endless rain storms, that come pelting in off the river to flood the entire region – destabilizing hillsides, sweeping cars away in muddy floodplains, and sending car-sized boulders careening off cliffsides to barrel into traffic lanes: I’m pretty much trapped in-house unless I have to drive into town for quick business (to pay AT/T at downtown office to avoid ‘late fee’ charges; or quick grocery restock). So far, going into town isn’t tricky driving.

What does seem to be tricky, however, is fielding the questions from friends and family who seem to feel I should be an expert of heartache and familial angsts.

I am a widow; and a parent who has nerve-wracking children.

Bob’s spirit left Earth a little over 2 years ago.

Friends (my age, or slightly older) are facing their own morality, or the possibility of becoming a widow themselves: they are worried, scared, curious – and a bit rude in their question-and-answer probes.

At first it caught me by surprise; then it started to annoy me … now, I just accept it for what it is: they need pacifying, they are seeking answers – they think I can help them.

I can: to a degree. While it is true that I have walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and survived the pain and heart wrenching sorrow, to talk about it; I am certainly no expert on death and how it will affect them. Their lives are not my life. I can only speak in reference to my life, and how the loss of Bob affected/continues to affect my life. Sometimes that satisfies them.

And most of the time it no longer annoys me. 

I am more than Bob’s Widow.

I am still ME: VAL – a person that has a life separate from The Grim Reaper’s pivot point.

Being trapped indoors by governmental crackdown bullshit most of all of 2020, and projected to go into 2022, has left people with too much time on their hands to sit and think. Children, as well as adults are becoming morose.

Not only are adults contemplating their own mortality; their children are also feeling the effects of isolation, and acting out in alarming ways.

Which, again, puts me in the crosshairs of “expert” queries.

Parents (friends and family members) struggling with teens and young adults call me to talk about what they are going through … and ask me, “how did you deal with it?”

Again, the circumstances, situations, and resulting outcomes – are vastly different. Their children do not hate them: mine, truly do hate me. There is a huge difference in how I “dealt with it”. Their troubles are current … the troubles with my kids go back 51 and 37 years: and since both kids have removed themselves from my life following their father’s absence in all our lives, the way I am “dealing” will not be helpful to those seeking helpful insights.

I do my best to be helpful, but the picking at the scabs of my personal life annoys me. I do not want to resurrect a painful past, that obviously did not pan out very well for me; or mine. I share what I share when I want to share it … and I chose what I want to share in the moment. I don’t share everything, because that is my business: it’s not fodder for the familial-friend’s-or bystander stranger’s gossip mill.

And, inevitably, what is shared, always leads to judging from those making queries: “but, you don’t get along with your children, do you?” Instead of the correct assessment that my kids do not get along with me. The quizzers can’t help themselves – they need vindication that even though their own families are in trouble … their trouble isn’t as bad as mine appears to them.

They make their judgements based on the little – very little – I share.

It may seem like I am a motor mouth; but I actually share very little about my family. I only share what I feel will be of some benefit to others – the rest, I keep to myself. It is no one else’s business.

And it irritates me that people come to me thinking I am an expert on heartbreak, and then feel free to come to conclusions about my life when they know basically nothing about my life (with Bob, or with my kids) as a whole.

They came to me; I did not go to them.

Beyond their quest to seek immediate comfort by asking surface questions to deep familial issues in their own lives, my personal life is off limits.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/01/glass-house-christians_17.html) 

I am more than Bob’s Widow. 

I am more than an abandoned mother.

I am still ME: VAL – a person that has a life separate from The Grim Reaper’s pivot point; and the kid’s narcissistic angsts.

Everyone’s life is their own journey. What works for me, may not work for anyone else: my life is not their life, even if they feel there are similarities.

I am doing my best not to overthink, too, in this neverendingly government incarceration … and wet, dreary, gray clouded winter skies.

I am trying to move forward.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyR_IidsP5E)

There is nothing left of the life I had for 44 years – I am doing my best to rebuilt from the shattered fragments. It is not easy: the slate has been wiped clean. As if those 44 years never happened at all. Only the memories keep me grounded and sane. I am exhausted on all levels … emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I am in no position to take on other people’s issues.

That is what Elohim is for: they need to go to Him.

Does that make me a selfish bitch?

Maybe.

I don’t know.

All I do know is that I’m going through my own life upheavals.

And I am doing it alone – partly because I need to, and partly because there is no one else on Earth, I can turn to.

I am going through my own confusing time.

I am dealing with my own mortality: I was with Bob from the time he went into ER locally, until he breathed his last breath this side of Heaven, in a small hospital room in the next State across the River.

I am pretty sure I will breathe my last breath this side of Heaven, alone.

And I am equally sure my friends seeking peace as they ponder their own mortality, and quiz me on what it feels like to waltz with the Grim Reaper, do not want to hear that reality. I try to answer their queries as honestly as I can – as compassionately as I can – without scaring the hell out of them, or losing too much blood myself, from the healing scab they messed with.

I am still reeling from the final severance from the kids (their choices). They totally messed up their lives – the Grim Reaper messed up my life: when Bob breathed out his last breath, as shallow as it was, it blew my entire world apart.

People ask me how I am dealing.

But they really don’t want the truth.

They don’t want to know that I really don’t have answers for them.

They don’t want to know the reality that death changes the “fit” of old life with the new life.

Or that as bad as they think things are now … the death of a spouse, or the death of a family unit blown to smithereens is so confusing, there is no escape from the prolonged shockwaves.

They do not want to know that I am exhausted on all levels: emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually – which often leads to second guessing, which leads to overthinking.

They want me to soothe them in what they are personally going through, and overthinking; and in truth, no one is benefitted.

I can lend them an ear, but if they truly want answers to their queries, they will have to turn to Elohim.

Turning to Elohim is how I “deal”.

IT’S ALL UPHILL

“It’s all uphill” is a phrase that can be taken 1 of 2 ways …

For the time being, ‘it’s an uphill battle’ is daunting, and it doesn’t seem like an encouraging prospect.

On the other hand, ‘it’s all uphill’ can be a good thing, because better things/happier times lay ‘just over the horizon’: it’s good to keep a positive outlook 😊

Challenges can make or break us – I will never be broken; so, the only other option is to let the circumstances and situations of the past 23 months … including this painful physical event ‘make me’: I can do that 😉

I purposefully cull people who use their fear to browbeat me into their way of thinking – I DO what is BEST FOR ME. Regardless of what others may think.

I believe in the power of prayer/divine healing; if people can’t respect that … they gotta go.

My mantra the last few days is, “Pray healing in; breathe pain out”: I plead the blood, and reminded Elohim that I am healed by Yeshua’s stripes. Of course, neither Elohim, nor Yeshua, need reminding … but I needed the affirmation; so, I quoted the Scriptures, and stood on them.

Pleading the blood is not begging Elohim to do something; the something has already been done.

Pleading the blood simply means I am actively activating the promise of my healing by the sacrifice price Yeshua paid 2020 years ago; it’s my statement of absolute faith I have in Calvary’s purchase through Yeshua’s eternal love for me – I am greatly loved, and highly favored … and I rely on Yeshua, as my Husband to provide for my well-being: spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

His blood spilled so freely on Calvary, is better than any insurance the world system has to offer!

I have lived my life like this since 1965; Elohei has never let me down.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjYnyz42mHQ)

Job 1, Isaiah 53:5, Jeremiah 17:14, and Mark 10:52.

I refuse to live life as a handicapped cripple.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6CJrGjATII)

Bob didn’t – and I won’t.

So help me God.

There is power in the blood; blood is the lifeforce – it fortifies … and even hospitals infuse blood as a purifying agent to the body.

I choose the blood of Yeshua.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NErE5B2-3-4)

I have been lying in bed most of the past few days, to soothe the inflammation, and allow my body to fully recuperate. I’ve done research for organic and holistic alternatives to prednisone and ibuprofen: and it’s doable. Also, have been thinking of ways to modify and alter my lifestyle to manage the pain … and that is doable too, without too much alterations.

I’ve always been operating at turbo-speed, now I need to slow things down a bit.

Laundry adjustments, yesterday afternoon ... just turning the laundry basket upside down, and folding things on it, eliminates the need to bend and fold; right now.

One immediate change that came quickly to mind, was to call my BIL and ask him if he wants the rain barrels – they gotta go. Bob bought them for me in 2017, and built me stands to place them on; for my garden area … and it will be hard to part with them because they were love gifts to me from my husband; but man-handling the stands, setting the barrels up, and hauling lots of buckets of water back and forth between barrels and raised beds will exasperate this new issue. So, they gotta go.

He’ll take them, and they will have a good home. He also said he could lay a layer of pea gravel down for me along the length of the raised beds, so I will have an easier time gardening: the bulky river rock is nice for landscaping but it is hell to walk on. I was thankful he offered to do that (I had no idea he would even go there 😉); he is a good man, like Bob.

My prednisone and ibuprofen schedule is 10 AM & 10 PM; and I’ve been laying flat on my back, massaging my left leg until 10 AM, when I can medicate the pain … this morning, when I woke up around 5 AM, I decided to walk around every room in the house despite the pain (I need to keep my joints limber, and the blood flowing in my leg veins): being totally bedridden is never a good thing, as it breaks the body down in several ways that can lead to other medical complications. I also drank a cup of green tea with honey.

Green tea helps reduce inflammation in the body; I had a cup this morning before I dressed and went downtown.

I did another lap around the house – and noticed the pain had backed off enough that I was not checking the time every 20 minutes 😉

Elohim is faithful.

I had medical forms I had to fill out and get approved, so I drove into town, to the hospital to drop them off … only to be told, the department I needed no longer operates at the hospital; the paperwork has to be mailed in, or faxed into the regional Office, in Vancouver.

So, I mailed the forms in. 

Post Office Lobby line; Longview.

At this point – after walking all around my house twice, driving into town … then making numerous laps (and burning gas by the $$ making those laps) around the hospital building to find a freed-up parking space, and walking uphill (a NO-NO! the doc warned me against) to get onto the building (all other hospital access routes have been fenced off with chain-link security fences); my leg was starting to burn, and there was no way I was going to further run all over town to hunt a fax machine down!

But I was peeved: I had asked Danielle, at this time last year, if the hospital was going to go into shut-down mode – and she said “no; the hospital will always be operational, and this department will always be here”. She flat-out lied. And I knew it because it was obvious then that the hospital was running on a skeleton crew, and half the Financial Department has already been shifted to Vancouver. Now that department is totally gone.

Longview is dying.

insleeze has destroyed the economy with the stupid and ridiculous political demonrat agendas that are not rooted in reality; fantasy is not reality. Prison towns and welfare states do not generate financial securities – and qualified doctors refuse to work here: we were told by concerned doctors in ER, before Bob was moved to OHSU in 2018, that good surgeons would not even consider coming because there was no money to be made here. I was seriously pissed and gave the hospital a good piece of my mind – Bob was too critical, and he would not have survived the ambulance drive to Salem. That doctors would put $$$$$ ahead of their Hippocratic Oath is scandalous.

Doctors really do believe they are gods.

The only ‘doctors’ that work here are a triage skeleton crew: basically, field doctors. Anything serious – like Bob’s condition, and they will be honest and tell you they are out of their depth; sending critical patients to Vancouver, Portland, or Salem.

Most do not survive the trip.

Which makes my petition for divine healing all the more pressing.

And, if it be Elohim’s Will for my life … I will be: Elohim has already healed me of shoulder bursitis in 1987; and scoliosis back pain in 2008; and night blindness in 2016. So, when this intense pain - like noting I had ever expierienced before; flared up 12 days ago, fibromyalgia did come to mind: and I rejected that thought!

Fibromyalgia.

Scoliosis.

I will not live my life in fear; any type of fear.

So, when the doctor assessed the pain as ‘age-related’, I was actually relieved.

And I knew I could deal with that 😉 

I’m actually not fat – I’m in the ‘safe zone’ weight-wise for a 5’2” Senior woman. But I do want to shed at least another 10-15 pounds for my bone’s sake.

It’s no surprise to me that I am aging; I only have to look in the mirror … or at my skin that is losing its luster and elasticity: I didn’t notice these things before becoming a widow, because Bob always told me I was his ‘beautiful lady’. But in the course of 23 months/9 days/8 hours & 37 minutes, my hair has been significantly glitterized with an abundance of silvery shine – and my skin is showing wear and tear (which has been accentualized by the weight loss 23 months has wrought). Aging doesn’t bother me … it’s a natural course of life.

What does bother me though, is racking up a huge ER Bill just to be told that my body is aging.

DUH: I am 64. 

I just didn’t expect the breath-sucking pain. 

I’ve always taken care of my body: I was unprepared for the physical searing.

I’ve out-lived my mother’s parents, my father’s mother, and my mother … I had nothing to draw on, concerning old-age issues.

When I got back home, the pain had backed down enough that I swept the floors that had been ignored for the past 12 days (my military upbringing was making me feel like a guilty slob) …

… and I pulled the Fall decorations, replacing them with Christmas decorations … nothing fancy or intricate, because I don’t want to set my healing backwards; just quick, simple, and easy on the body switch-outs 😉

Christmas Cornucopia.

I made this wreath to celebrate Christmas in our new home – I had no idea that I would be a widow at Christmas time in 2018.

( https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2017/11/away-we-go-and-ho-ho-ho.html)

Wreath & Seasonal Coir mat is all I am doing for Christmas 2020: it is enough this year.

I pulled the little dolly hauler, Bob bought me for my Bazaar Circuits, from the shed; and placed it in the car. It will tear up the steps … but it will save me from this intense pain.

I made 2 wreaths for our new home; 1 for each entry door. Hanging them every year is bittersweet now.

( https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2017/11/holiday-anticipation-in-full-swing.html)

Front Porch; that's it for this year.

Christmas Ducks; nothing fancy, but a little festive 😉

I also received news that I have a traveling companion! I know this person, and we will have good times together.

We are already making tentative plans for the Spring of 2021 😊

I have a GOOD GOD!

At the end of every day, I know I have a good life.

And I have good people in my life: I am blessed and thankful.

TODAY: HOSPITAL VISIT CONFIRMS I AM AN OFFICIAL SENIOR CITIZEN

I have been suffering with hip & leg pain for about 10 days: the past 2 days I couldn't even get out of bed for more than 5 minutes before slinking back to lie down flat.

Well ...

Today was the day the hospital confirmed to me that I am an official Senior Citizen 😉

It's going to be an adjustment 😂🤣

The adjustments won't be major - just tone things down a bit (example: instead of intense hiking ... do low-impact).

Bob lived with pain all his life; intense pain from spina bifida (not open, just there in his spine), sciatica, and a broken thigh bone that never totally healed properly (though it was a miracle the surgeons even managed to save his leg from amputation).

But stuff like this is scary when you are a solo lobo - and you don’t know WHY you are in pain.

Leg pain woke me up around 2 AM … I walked down the hallway, and saw fog hanging over the Park: it reminded me of those horrible early morning “missing Bob” drives I made in 2018, to the local hospital before deciding to pack a duffle; and camping in Bob’s room.

By 9 AM, the leg pain was so bad, I called my SIL Merry, and asked her to drive me to the hospital to find out WHY the pain was so intense: she came without hesitation.

Bob & Merry; August 2007.

I went to the hospital straight from the bed, in my pajamas … and I didn’t care.

The pain was that B.A.D.

A couple of X-rays – and a Cortisone shot – and I could move without wanting to scream … or rip my leg off and throw it across the room.

Waiting for my release papers … and trying to make sense out of the Doctor’s assessment.

A guesstimate concerning the problem: nothing definite, but an age-related-clue.

A guesstimate clue was given that will probably send me to the Poor House if everyone (Admittance receptionist, 2 attendants, 1 Doctor, 4 X-rays/X-ray Technician, Cortisone shot, Prednisone tablet, Diagnostics, Paper printing) wants their $$$$$ up front.

I racked up a hefty hospital bill just to be told I am now officially a Senior Citizen.

I don’t have insurance – and I won’t be old enough for Medicare until next year, when I turn 65. I don’t know what to tell them all when they bill me; other than “stand in line”.

Non-narcotic pain relievers: $18 for everything. Hopefully when they are all used up, and the inflammation is relieved … the pain will have subsided enough to be manageable in the future.

My ‘Vitals’.

I should have these vitals’ statistics tattooed to my forehead so the people freaked out about covid CAN SEE that I AM FINE. I will not kill anyone by walking around without a freaking mask … 

Disc Info

Sciatica Info

ROSBURG HALL BAZAAR 2020 ~ Happy Is As Happy Does

I was up bright and early this morning.

2 things had me feeling nervous: (1) KM Mountain (2) the last time I hosted a Bazaar table at the Rosburg Hall … Bob was with me.

Bob’s family is related to 2/3^rd’s of the population that way – so much so, that when our children started maturing we told them, “You cannot date anyone from Graysriver, Rosburg, Naselle, or Astoria – every other person is relative in one way, or another, to your father.”

Our kids literally had to leave the immediate area … and State … to safely date.

No joke.

This Bazaar, Bob is not here.

Bob would not be with me.

I am ‘family’ – and yet, not.

Bob by my side made me ‘family’: Bob is no longer here.

9/10^th’s of Bob’s family is no longer in my life; and I am no longer included in family shindigs. Bob’s place in the family is vacant, and there is no longer any place for me. There is a BIL and a SIL that are still hanging … but the bulk of Bob’s family doesn’t know what to do with me: they never had that much to do with me before – and the {fit} is uncomfortable after.

So, I was understandably nervous.

And, on another topic: the PNW is in our rainy season now, and will be for months – morning fog is going to be hanging in the air pretty steadily for some time.

Fog didn’t bother Bob like it bothers me.

Bob grew up I a foggy area; and as a logger, and truck driver … Bob drove/worked in heavily fogged mornings.

On scary mountain roads that would steal your breath with fear if you saw them in clear daylight.

That didn’t bother Bob either.

Bob loved challenges.

Bob excelled at conquering challenges.

I am a pretty headstrong and determined woman.

But I am not totally fearless.

Yawning 1,000-foot gorges, and foggy roadways unnerve me.

So, I girded myself with boldness; requested to be held up with prayer … and set forth 😉

Getting ready to leave the house.

Hoping for a good turnout & a profitable day.

I want to give back to the community that gave me Bob …

I hadn’t even reached Stella, when it was obvious that I needed to pull over and switch back to wearing my old glasses – it was just too dangerous to continue wearing the new ones: the distance was very blurry, and I knew that if I did come to a fog bank, the new glasses would be a serious snafu.

They had to be removed, and replaced.

And I was peeved – the whole purpose of buying new glasses was so that I could see clearly into the distance.

But, I have not been able to do that with these new lenses.

It was just too risky to continue with them – thank God (!) I kept this old pair, or I would have been up the proverbial ‘creek without a paddle’ …

I had to switch back to my old glasses to see!

My first tangle with fog happened at County Line; soupy fog, so it wasn’t too hindering.

By the time I reached Bunker Hill, I’d lost sight of the roadway twice. It was scary, but I reached back into the recesses of my memory and pulled on e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. Bob (as passenger) had ever told me about driving in heavy fog; and I turned my mind’s eye inward to {see} Bob driving through the fog … and I mimicked that.

If Bob had been here, I probably would have pulled over and said, “Okay, Babe, this scares me: you need to drive now.”

But Bob is no longer a passenger.

Bob. 2006

Bob is no longer available.

I no longer have a backup driver: there’s just me.

So, I drew on everything I could remember about fog driving.

Bob had learned to drive early, in Eden Valley – he was driving tractor at 9 years old; his Dad taught him. It gets foggy, very foggy in Eden Valley. Then he graduated from tractor to truck. Bob was a good driver – a very good driver.

And Bob was a skillful driving instructor: anybody would have been privileged to have had Bob as an instructor.

I was privileged from the moment he slipped that little gold band on the 3^rd finger of my left hand; but I was a rebellious teenager – I wasn’t interested in learning, so I blew his enthusiasm off, and I bucked his instructions; pacifying him with a driver’s permit and slacking off on seriously pursuing an actual License. I did not understand the necessity until I was in my 30’s. I didn’t need to drive until I was in my 30’s: everything I needed to run the house smoothly, prepare meals, clothe the kids, and entertain myself craft-wise … was mere minutes from our front door.

By foot.

2 shakes of a lamb’s tail to Main Street; and 7 minutes flat to make the High School at the top of the town hill.

I didn’t buckle down and get serious about getting my Driver’s License until Bob was working away from home one Winter, and got deathly sick with pneumonia.

And even then … I was happy to pass him the baton in tricky situations and let him drive us to safety.

But, now, I have to carry the baton: getting from A to B safely now, is 100% on me.

Dropping into Cathlamet; Gragg's Store shrouded in fog.

There were periodic fog patches from Cathlamet to the KM Mountain; but ((((surprisingly)))), the KM was practically fog-free.

KM slide area …

Top of KM

Leaving the KM behind me, and nearing Graysriver, there was a light fog bank at Fossil Creek … but the rest of the way through Graysriver and on to Rosburg Hall was clear driving.

THANK YOU Bob, for telling me/showing me by example over the years, what I needed to know this morning.

THANK YOU YESHUA, for bringing that information to mind … and helping me through the dicey situations this morning.

The entire drive really was pretty uneventful – even with the patches of fog.

It was an enjoyable drive.

I was swathed in prayer.

Music filled the car.

I felt love, and peace.

But I did miss the magic of the day – the way Bob could turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary simply by being IN it.

Bob had no ego: none, whatsoever.

Bob had no idea what a rare person he was.

Bob was the magic of my days.

And Bob is now missing from my days.

Any future chapters of the charmed fairytale that was US for 44 years, ended 22 months ago.

The day was dawning, but daybreak was still a little murky when I turned down Altoona-Pillar Rock Road, and nipping into the Rosburg Community Hall Road; and I was still feeling pretty bummed about my life missing pizazz.

I was still feeling a little nervous about being in the midst of people Bob had known all his life, when I am really no longer part of the family nucleus.

And I didn’t want to have to deal with people pitying me: they would mean well, but I would feel awkward.

I’m not a self-pitying person.

I did not want to be accepted by being pitied.

In the midst of those thoughts, my peripheral vision was snagged when YESHUA DAZZLED ME WITH HIS ‘Good Morning, Val!’ gift:

Sunrise in Rosburg. 8:15 AM

I smiled at the thoughtfulness of my heavenly Husband.

I put a lid on the bummer mood 😉

I began to view the day in a whole new light.

After I had parked, hauled my bins into the Hall and started unpacking my cache to set my table up, Bob’s Aunt Frieda sought me out for a hug and a chit-chat.

I was showered with love!

She introduced me to her friends.

“I want you to meet my niece, Val.”

She introduced me as her “niece”!

Frieda loved Bob like a little brother – there was no superiority issues between them. They had been linked by a love bond.

I saw it.

For 44 years.

I knew it for what it was: pure love.

And now, she was including me in that connection.

She brought me up to date on family doings: marriages, births, deaths, who was moving/buying homes, ect.: family stuff.

Her husband, John, also sought me out.

I knew I was loved.

I know I am loved.

I was thankful: I am thankful.

I hadn’t seen Frieda and John since Bob’s Celebration of Life event, August 30^th, 2019.

I was nervous about where I {fit}; how my old life would smoothly dovetail with my new life.

Frieda and John removed that nervousness.

I am now a square peg … and they widened the round hole of family unity, so they can include me with ease.

I am grateful to know that there are some family members who have not abandoned me (out of 52 people, 8 have remained; 2 in-laws I can depend on when I need ‘now’ help).

People reading this may wonder ‘what’s the big deal? You’re 64 years old …’.

The big deal is that my entire world has been shattered; there is very little of my old life left that is recognizable – or workable – anymore. There are holes in the tapestry of the life that used to be US … that will never be repaired; and cannot be reworked.

No husband to share love with.

No children to visit with.

No grandchildren to hold.

No great-grandchildren to hope for.

ALL are irreplaceable shapes in the tapestry of the Life I once had.

Everyone needs love.

Everyone needs to know they are loved.

The spirit will shrivel up and die without daily doses of some form of love.

Humans were created in the image of God.

Humans were created TO BE loved: and to GIVE love.

Love is an important ingredient to life.

Without love, people aren’t truly living their lives to the fullest potential.

My bins were eventually emptied, and my table was eventually ready to be browsed by customers.

My table set up.

Bazaar Vendors; a good variety of offerings 😉

It was a good day.

It was a profitable day.

I was able to ‘make Bank’; and I am able to replace 2/3^rd’s of the Tire $$$$ I had filched a few weeks ago to make up the difference in cost for my new pair of glasses.

When the Bazaar wrapped up, I drove up the road a bit further, to stop at the Eden Valley Cemetery to upgrade the family plots.

Permanent metal shepherd’s hooks were placed on Grandpa/Grandma Smalley’s plot; and on Dad Hargand’s plot. This should stop the elk thievery 😉

Winter upgrade on our Plot.

I have been walking solo lobo for 22 months/17 days/9 hrs.47 secs.

How I adapt to that stark reality is up to me.

I … and only I … am responsible for successfully moving forward, finding purpose for my life again, responsible for my attitude/environment/healing: I am working on all these things.

I am doing better today than I was yesterday; and I’m A WHOLE LOT BETTER than I was 22 months ago – even 10 months ago.

There is a song with a lyrical message I am going to be adapting for my 2021 progression forward. I am choosing its lyrical substance because it’s doable: it’s desirable – it’s necessary.

I’ve had a full cup of passionate happiness.

I could enjoy a half full cup of fun.

I’m tired of crying.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIPfi-O8Aag)