My days are beginning to take shape again; my
calendar is filling up. Nothing spectacular or particularly noteworthy to
anyone but me (and Bob, if he were still walking beside me); but my days
now have focus and my life can start to be lived again with purpose.
I know what I want … what I don’t want … and I’m
on my way to restructuring and rebuilding.
I had 2 early morning phone calls yesterday and “life”
was the topic of both calls. My Georgia peaches friends (nothing catty in
the remark, just referring to their genteel backgrounds) are concerned I
don’t have enough on my docket to keep me happily occupied now that Bob is not
here to keep me happily occupied. So, I assured them both that I am really
doing okay: I don’t know yet exactly where my life is headed, or even how to
bring all the pieces together – but, I am open to wherever 2020 takes me.
My calendar is filling up; with the exceptions of Fridays & Saturdays,
which I keep set aside (free from outside entanglements) to
relax, refresh, and reflect: on these two days, I clean house, do laundry,
and bake bread Friday early in the day – and relax Friday evening through Saturday
doing nothing more than kicking back, vegging out, and enjoying a small goblet
of wine in the evenings before bed ;-)
From Friday sundown until Sunday sundown, I take time to relax and unwind.
This past Friday, I spent all day doing laundry and baking breads before beginning my Sabbath Rest at sundown. With half the Challah Bread dough, I baked 8 homemade Hamburger Buns and a dozen Supper Rolls.
he other half of the Challah dough was shaped into regular shaped loaves (I forwent the fancy braiding this week).
Friday evening Supper, I was too tired to whip up much – so, I threw some Sweet Potato Fries in the hot oven to bake after the bread was pulled out … and I reheated one of the Maryland Crab Cakes I fried the other day, and put it between the Tarter-sauced halves of one of the homemade hamburger buns that just came out of the oven. YUM!
Sundays I also claim for myself: this is my
“get out into Yeshua’s creation and enjoy it to the max”: “Sunday~Funday”.
So, from Friday through Sunday (a 3 day weekend), I deliberately claim time for
myself to reclaim myself and bring peace into my life to rein supreme. People
can come visit me, if they chose to do that; but, with the exception of
Sunday outings, I don’t leave my house – and I don’t deliberately “people”.
This is a personal choice. And it is also how Bob and I lived, when he was
still walking beside me, and sharing my life.
Sundays are for me to get on touch with Yeshua’s
wonderful creation – I like to hit the road for scenic daytrips; recently I am
on a quest to figure out the roads Bob always took me joy riding on – I miss
those places (http://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/01/sunday-funday-6.html) … and perhaps,
I will eventually discover some new places as a solo lobo that we hadn’t
explored together.
And again, the question of no man in my life was
broached.
And, a.g.a.i.n. … I made it clear
there will be no “new man” in my life. Not in a
romantic sense, anyway.
Though I do miss the male factor in my life (not
sex or even love, though: just the maleness factor. As in pure male
friendship …); I don’t need a boyfriend WB (with “benefits”),
and I don’t want another husband – though I would never argue with Elohim IF
that is His Plan for my new life. Bob is the only male I ever wanted more from
the male species from: and Bob surrendered all his maleness to me … and brought
out the female in me. What Bob gave to me, in regards to companionship,
love, sex, and marriage, is enough to satisfy me for the rest of my life in
those areas of life – Bob never did anything in half measures, so all those
things we shared together was excellent and irreplaceable – these are not
things I feel I need to experience with a new man in my life. There were fellas
in my life before Bob – I did not come to Bob lily-white; I do not feel
marrying young gypped me of a full life … but marrying young gave me a
fulfilled life: I married the man of my dreams. Literally. Bob is my “it” man.
To my way of thinking, and feeling STILL: there isn’t a man alive that can top
Bob’s place in my life.
But what I do miss about the lack of maleness in
my life now: is how a man thinks, how he speaks, how he moves, how he slams
truck gears while driving passive-aggressively, how he holds a hamburger before
taking a big bite … these things may seem stupid, but that is how I feel; these
are things decidedly male, that I miss, now that there is no maleness in my new
life. I don’t need a boyfriend, and I’m not shopping for a husband. But a male
friend who isn’t looking for a girlfriend WB (with “benefits”); and
isn’t shopping for a wife, would be sufficient for friendship and welcomed
platonic companionship.
Wednesdays are booked with Keenagers gatherings;
again, something Bob and I did together … and something I prefer to continue
with. I have gained new friends there to help me enjoy my new life, and I have
decided to keep this old appointment in my new life. I enjoy the time spent,
and I know I, too, am enjoyed while I am there – my spirit is lifted and
refreshed during that time of communal companionship, and heartening
friendship. It is time well spent :-D (http://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/keenagers-christmas-kickoff.html).
Thursdays are my “Georigia-peach days”. LOL This is the day of the week that works best
for me to spend quality friendship time with old friends who have remained in
my altered life, circled the wagons around me, and helped me learn to live
again after the loss of Bob’s physical presence in my life; their sheltering
and ministering attentions are invaluable measures of a deep friendship that
has morphed into a solid sisterhood of blessing. They knew Bob. They knew US as
a united team. They knew our love was true and deep – they know the story and
have been privy to our marital life together. They know our children – their
children’s lives have been intertwined with the life of our children. They knew
how devastated I was when I was bumped from Wife to Widow 375 days ago. They
know how I have been treated since becoming a widow. Their loving
concern, care, and ministrations literally saved my life during the darkest
hours of my life following Bob’s physical death (doesn’t matter how
prepared one is for the Grim Reaper’s arrival, we are never truly ‘ready’ – it
is always a shocking encounter), the loss of family connections (which
really wasn’t that strong while Bob was still here, but a loss just the same;
and a sudden final break, as soon as Bob’s breathed out his last breath),
and the abandonment of our children (again, never strong connections – but
cruelly finalized following their father’s physical death). Thursday is a
day of the week that is set in stone. When we get together, it literally is a
day spent together (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/tent-city-trump-trivia-torrential.html
& https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/03/grateful-for-old-friends.html).
So, Mondays and Tuesdays are the only 2 days of
the calendar that have not been penciled in yet … and that’s okay. It leaves
flexibility for grocery shopping, clothes shopping, house cleaning (dusting,
toilet/shower cleaning, ect.) outside house appointments that invariably
come up now and then: these are the days of the week that I will stick to when
I have to do in-depth house cleaning, and make downtown appointments that
cannot be avoided.
The colorful, scribbled notations, boldly
sprawling across each week – every month, on my yearly calendar may not
intrigue anyone else glancing at it; and it may even appear boring to anyone
looking at the sprawling scribbles dictating each day’s activities, each month,
all year … but, those sprawling scribbles represent personal growth to me
as I move slowly forward into a life I never wanted – with deliberate intent,
and a determined purpose. Those sprawling scribbles are deliberate
notations of a deliberate restructuring of a life I never wanted, but must
begin actively rebuilding. Those sprawling scribbles are triumphant
motivations to engage in life again. Those sprawling scribbles are colorful
focuses of small tentative steps I am making in forging a direction in a life I
never wanted, but am victoriously living.
There are 345 days of 2020 left to experience,
before a new year begins anew for me – where it goes, is where it will carry
me: next year could be more of the same … or new plans could be drafted and
enacted as the restructuring and rebuilding continues. But, as of last night,
when I scribbled sprawling notations across my calendar pages; for all
intents and purposes, my 2020 calendar “is full”; and nothing is off
the table in regards to how each day of notification unfolds – plans and
goals are open-ended developments: I have made plans I intend to
keep, BUT, I am also allowing Elohim a free hand in where He wants my life to
go. As with every restructure, an open-ended building plan is a safety
net to steadying factor so necessary to harmonious balance.
Scarily exciting.
Boldly energizing.
The new me developing to fit this new
life is totally different from the old me.
And strangely, I’m okay with that ;-)
MOD Knit Valentine Kitchen Towel Set
I also saw in a FB noticifcation - when I checked my Page, that the hillside along Ocean Beach
Highway this side of Graysriver, has had a huge landslide come down and block the highway –
and WSDOT is telling us that they cannot tell us when the road will be
reopened to traffic. They are telling us to take the Puget Island Ferry to the
Oregon State side of the Columbia River, and cross the Astoria-Megler Bridge to
get back to Washington State … to backtrack to Graysriver. A LOT OF extra
mileage – and hell to pay on the bridge this time of year. Actually, any tome
of the year, is treacherous on that stinking bridge. White caps splash over the
lower edges, making it very icy and dicey during the Winter months – and funneling
high wind gusts blowing of the Pacific Ocean slam into vehicles and move them
around like match box cars on that bridge: any time of the year, but more so during the Winter months.
Bob had, several times, come home after driving long
haul across that thing and told me of times the winds caught the semi, blew it
sideways ... and literally blew him down the length of the bridge sideways: scary
to hear, scarier to experience. Bob was an excellent driver, but still!
I hate
that bridge.
Well …
C.R.A.P.
I was hoping to get to Eden valley come Spring;
that’s not gonna happen now because this mess won’t be cleared up – or the
road ready for traffic for months.
Slide this side of Graysriver.
Slide viewed from the Graysriver side.
Astoria-Megler Bridge: Astoria, OR side – longest bridge in the Pacific
Northwest.
Astoria-Megler Bridge – picture I took in June, 2016. Of course, as usual, we got stuck at the highest point because they were doing bridge work ... a.g.a.i.n: the bridge work is constant and on-going. I don't think the painting, or the truss repair; it never stops.
The height bothers me ... but down there, on the lower ends is where the real danger lies because that is where the waves wash over the road, and the ocean high winds really assault & knock cars around.
I can't stress enough, now much I really hate this bridge. Bob, at age 16, was one of the first drivers from the Washington side to drive across it. He was working the Charter Boats in Ilwaco, and was hauling fish leavings (guts, ect.) to a place in Warrenton, Oregon.
But despite this landslide setback, I am hoping to get to
Eden Valley sometime in 2020.
And thinking of the landslide and my curtailed Spring
plans, got my mind ruminating on this time last year.
Today, Last year, I was dealing with the fallout from my husband’s killers – (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/01/dealing-with-shysters.html) who, by the
way, are still on the Park premises today. But, praise Elohim, Ron Cook is no
longer my next door neighbor and I do not have to have anything at all to do
with him anymore. Thank You, Yeshua! And, after my last showdown with Candy
Scott on May 28th, 2018 … she realized that when she tries to bully
me, I become a force to be reckoned with: she has learned to hide her teeth
and not dare to bare them in my direction – I can go from quiet church
mouse to Texas tornado in a heartbeat; and when the bullshit flies and the
accusing lies start; I leave no stone unturned in clearing my name and backing
her into a corner. Bob is no longer here to deal with her; and I have to be my
own defense: I am not as merciful as Bob was. I can overlook a lot … but
when people lie directly to my face ABOUT ME, that’s when I do what needs to be
done to set the record straight and stop the bullshit in its tracks. Since
I set Candy back on her heels and slapped a muzzle on her loose jaws with
realities; she’s been staying out of my face, and giving me a wide berth. Thank
You, Elohim.
It's 8:43 PM here; so I'm going to slip into some comfy p.j.'s & curl up with my latest read: have a small goblet of white wine, and relax ;-)
I'll finish this book, because I'm half way into it, and the basic plot is catchy - but, I don't think I'll bring home another by this author: all she has done the entire way through the book when she isn't following clues to the mystery, is bash God: I don't like that. She really has no real knowledge of what she is bashing - it's just a general arrogant and ignorant hatred for something she thinks she needs to hate. The attitude is annoying and insulting. MPO
