SUNDAY~FUNDAY 7: LOVE LIES HERE

I am bored being cooped up in-house. The rain and the coronavirus keeping me indoors is making me antsy; so, I decided to buck the weatherman, and the government suggestion to ‘stay indoors’, and try to get to Eden Valley this afternoon.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/02/catch-rainbow.html)

I logged into FB, and asked if the slide area was stable enough yet to drive that way (saturated soil had brought a huge chuck of land mass and trees down across the highway the end of January) – and had the waters in the valley abated yet (it has recently been heavily flooded); I was answered immediately, telling me that the road was one-lane travel now, and that yes, the waters have cleared the roadways in the Valley. Some kind fella even sent me a pic showing the roadway I needed to get to Eden Valley:

Altoona & Barr Rd. Intersection

Rinsing my ‘I Believe in Bigfoot’ coffee mug and thinking about the daytrip drive, I noticed the digital clocks did not match up with my phone. WTH?

Clocks are an hour behind in time.

Why were they an hour behind? Daylight Saving Time. I hate daylight savings time changes – it didn’t make sense in the 1970’s when it was implemented … and it doesn’t make sense now. It’s a frustrating scientific con the government makes use of. All it does is make people cranky.

But, I changed the clocks anyway.

Corrected time; took me a few minutes to figure out how to set the clocks. I slowed my breathing down so I didn’t get too frustrated – and let my mind go back in time, to Bob patiently explaining it to me.

Crankily ;-)

That ridiculous task done, I washed my hair, changed my clothes, grabbed the trailing silk ivy; and off I went. About 3 minutes from my driveway, I noticed the car clock – also behind in time; so I turned off Ocean Beach Highway into the first pullout I saw and got the Car Manual out …

Eden Valley is my link to love on Earth – Bob is love to me; Bob represents ALL of love, to me. Even though Bob is really no longer on earth in the flesh; the remains of Bob is there. The memories of Bob is there: Eden Valley was where he was conceived and spent his youth – I spent my years, between 12 and 14, walking the highway and byways between Skamokawa (where I lived at the time) and Naselle; Graysriver and Pillar Rock was usually my destinations, with the side roads and loop roads figured in if I had extra time to kill before heading back home. I spent a LOT of time in the Graysriver-Eden Valley areas before I ever met Bob.

Instead of walking, I drove that way today – stopping at Gragg’s, entering Cathlamet, to grab a few chicken tenders and 2 Vanilla Cokes for the road.

The drive was pretty uneventful.

Until I reached the slide area. And even then, it was relatively uneventful:

Pretty uneventful. And traffic was light too.

Turning off Altoona-Pillar Rock road and onto Eden Valley Road, I was happy to see the Valley as dry as it was …

The water of Grays Bay kisses the edges of roadway here.

The first thing that catches my eye when I turn into the cemetery parking lot area, is daffodils – the sight makes my heart smile. Opening the gate and walking to our plot block, my spirit is cheered to see so much cheery life showing itself in this place where physical death is so pronounced. Even though I know Bob’s spirit is not really here – the remains of his earthen vessel that housed his spirit for 69 years; the ashed remains of that body I loved so well, is here.

Love lies here.

And I am gladdened to see that life thrives here, easing and soothing shattered dreams and wrenching heartache for all the remaining family members who, like me, have laid the remains of their loved ones to rest here:

Some of the crocuses I planted in our plot block, last Fall are blooming!

I switched Bob’s placement markers out; and removed the solar lamp stake, poking the lamp into the ivy vase foam to secure it against being blown away in the high winds. Bob hated total darkness – he liked being where there were streetlights and such: so, I always make sure there is a solar lamp here. It is a small way to honor my husband’s memory …

The grass was damp, but the ground was not soaked. I needed to know that …

Leaving the cemetery grounds, headed towards the car, I happened to look down and saw that I nearly stepped on elk tracks.

Seeing these tracks made my heart sing – and brought on another memory too. Bob always like watching elk (for years he hunted elk; and always bagged an elk) … and he could mimic a bull elk’s whistle exactly: without a whistling aide. He would put his right hand 2 forefingers in his mouth, and cup his left hand over those 2 fingers; and whistle loudly. It was very piercing; and very convincing. One time, a bull elk thought Bob WAS another bull elk challenging him for his harem, and actually charged Bob! The only thing that kept Bob from being shishkabobbed by the sharp antler prongs of an angry bull elk, was a wide and deep drainage ditch separating the elk and man: we laughed about the ‘frustrated elk incident’ for decades:

I don’t know how I missed stepping on them earlier – they are practically alongside the car’s door.

I like to take the Barr Loop Road back to Ocean Beach Highway when I leave Eden Valley – it’s a nice, short, country drive. Turning onto it, I noticed there is still snow lingering on the surrounding hilltops …

I noticed on my way through Graysriver earlier, that Duffy’s Restaurant looked busy; so, I backtracked to Ocean Beach Highway and pulled into an open parking spot. Duffy’s food is excellent … and they are not always open for business. So, when they are, I eat there. I like the bohemian ambiance, as well as the wonderful food.

It may look like a rundown dive, but the food can’t be beat. And the interior is comfortable – in a shabby, homey way ;-)

I love everything about Duffys. The first time we ate here, we were out for a drive and I said, “Let’s try Duffy’s Babe. I like what their billboards are advertising: I’m hungering for some good fried oysters”. Bob pulled in, we walked in – Bob rolled his eyes and gave me that, ‘You and your hippy-dippy ideas …’. But the food convinced him Duffy’s was the place to nip into when we were down this way.

Score 1 for the girl with stars in her eyes and daisies in her hair:

When my order was brought out on the deck, the waitress, Debbie, was talkative. While I was eating, and we were chatting, I mentioned that Bob and I had eaten here many times – and usually on the deck, where I was sitting as we talked. She asked if I was just passing through – and I said that I had just come from the cemetery in Eden Valley, where my husband’s cremains rest now. And she said, ‘oohed! I just got goose-bumps! I can feel Bob here, right now.’ I laughed because it was so hammy; and because she was trying to cheer me up (she thought I may be sad after coming from the cemetery). I said that I believe Bob’s spirit is always present, and that I believe Bob can see and hear me – though I can’t see of hear him. She said she believed that too.

She asked me if I was a religious person, and I told her, “No; not religious. But I am a Christian – Bob was too.” And I shared Bob’s 1981 salvation testimony with her :-D

Oyster Burger. Yum!

Lunch with a view.

I ate half (I had eaten chicken tenders all the way to Graysriver); I brought the rest back home, and finished it off here.

Remembering the Graysriver Inn and Bob’s 2^nd Cousin, Wally Smalley

As I was paying my tab – and it was spendy; Duffy’s food is not cheap – this building caught my peripheral vision’s attention. I don’t remember seeing it before, on previous daytrips through Graysriver. But then, my brain had been shrouded in a Widow’s Fog for all of 2019. I have absolutely no recollection of it; but to me, today, it is a ‘new thing’ …

Wahkiakum Fire & Rescue Building.

Stashing my Duffy’s leftover’s into the car, and heading back towards home, I pass the old KM slide area on the downside of the top of the KM … and came across a surprise as I exit the KM area:

1980’s KM slide area.

I’ve never seen anything like this here before …

And I have to laugh out loud after I say, ‘the Wirkkala Road’, because that is not the actual name of said road. A Wirkkala family did live in the first house on this road, but the actual name of the road is Bjornsgard Road …

People getting direction from me, are going to have to know the lay of the land, because I refer to locations as places I know in my own peculiar way according to where families live/lived – events/activities that happened in certain locations – so, if they don’t know the lay of the land, they’ll probably get lost or thoroughly confused following my directions. LOL

A bit further down Ocean Beach Highway, driving past the Alger Creek Station (a home-based antique shop), a memory came to mind of a drive Bob & I, and Stacey, took up Alger Creek Road – a gravel logging road directly across from the ‘Station’. Stacey was about 16 because the drive up the logging road was Bob’s idea of teaching her to drive in “a safe location” where she couldn’t hurt the pickup, and if she ran off the road, no real damage would be done.

Bob had worked out there the first 2 years of our married life, and had brought home to me fossilized sea snail shells he’d found around the landing site: he knew I liked that kind of archeological stuff; but, that particular day we took Stacey out that road, and saw a cougar! It was the most awe-inspiring creature I have ever seen: tawny gold, about 6 feet long – it was as long as the pickup was wide – gold eyes (it looked right at us as it slinked across the front of the pickup) – black muzzle and long black whiskers – very muscular. It was magnificent! I will never forget that moment it allowed us a glimpse of it before it disappeared into the side brush like a forest ghost. And I will never forget the man who loved me enough to make sure I got my “fix” in the countryside, in the woods, and in the mountains. Bob went out of his way to make sure I was a happy woman. And I appreciate that. I miss that. I miss Bob; I miss my man, who got a kick out of pleasing his wife.

Just outside of Cathlamet, on the far outskirts; the Osprey nest atop the bridge that spans a finger of the Elochoman River, keeps growing in height and circumference:

Driving back home through Cathlamet, I noticed a Dollar General Store along the highway – don’t know how I missed it passing through earlier. Maybe because the building is yellow and it blends in with the dead, dull, yellowed grass surrounding it. Wow – a chain franchise building in Cathlamet; Cathlamet must be growing enough to generate actual revenue – revenue enough to convince a corporation to risk opening a business chain. Hmmm.

Nearing Longview, the waterfall at Stella is raging with overflow from all the rain we’ve had lately. Every time during the 44 years of our married life (and every month of my widowed life), we (me now), pass this waterfall; all I can think of is Bob’s cousin Marnie Blix, was widowed in her 20’s when her husband died there, the night his vehicle went through the guardrail one drunken night. Widowed in her 20’s – so suddenly, so horribly: that thought still – after all this time – makes me sad.

Even when I think the waterfall is pretty ...

When I arrived back home and parked the car; the day was still young, and the weather was feeling very ‘Springy’. So, with the break in the weather, I decided to set my rain barrels in place and clean up the flowerbeds and veggie beds.

I checked the wheelbarrow tire and saw it needed filled with air. What I really need is a new wheelbarrow … but I don’t think I can get one in the Highlander’s backend – I’ll have to break out my measuring tape ;-)

I got the tire pump out of the shed, and while lifting the air hose to slip the end over the tire valve … felt it tear at the base; it is that old – it just fell apart. I didn’t get upset; I just closed my eyes and sighed a ‘help me, Jesus’ sigh. I did not want to get back in the car; for any reason. I looked at the tear – I looked at the wilting tire – I thought, ‘what would Bob do in a pinch to get through the moment?’ Two things Bob always had on hand: duct tape, and black electrical tape: those two things could fix a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. I knew there was no duct tape – I had used that up last Summer, on the wheel barrow handle bars (I put it on as a safe-guard against slivers). But maybe there was some electrical tape somewhere. I checked the house first, because Bob usually had a roll in his dresser-top-valet. No go – nada. Back outside, to the shed – I rummaged through the upright toolbox: eureka!

Old and worn tire pump waiting to be patched up and put back to work …

Patched tire pump. Needs replaced asap ...

The temporary patch-job worked; the tire was filled, the rain barrel stands were hauled, set in place, and leveled; and the barrels were hauled and set in place :-D

And new neighbors at the back of my house introduced themselves; and we talked for about an hour. They are older than me by about 15-20 years. Very friendly. And share a love of gardening. It is good to have back fence friends ;-)

Barrels in place, and new friends made; I got busy cleaning up the flowerbeds and veggie beds. All the veggie beds have been weeded – they just need to have the soil loosened with my claw tool. Potted over-winter perennials have been spruced up and set in designated spots by the veggie beds, and the perennial plants have had the dead debris removed to make room for the new growth:

Left front flowerbed.

Hens-n-Chicks & Tete a Tete Daffodils. The Hens-n-Chick sedum are edible.

Right front flowerbed.

Apple trees are setting buds. I’m happy to see these ;-)

I hope last year’s hard pruning cured the problem. I really don’t want to lose these trees Bob bought me for Mother’s Day 12 years ago :-(

Cleaned up the Strawberry Jar.

Around 5:30 PM, I call it a day.

Walking around the back of my house to the side door, I look at the home my husband provided me with – surrounded by the things he built for me, and I smile; thinking, “love lies here.”

Relaxing inside – eating the remains of my Duffy’s meal, and watching twilight begin to settle, I reflect on my fun Sunday~Funday; and agree with the pinkish sunset tinging the horizon: it is time to do what the sun is doing … give this day a rest :-D

Goodnight Sun – Hello Moon.

INTERESTING ~ Shabbat Contemplations

Today was a day of interesting contemplations.

Around 11 AM, my attention was caught by a tiny orange bird – the color of a deep orange carrot – as it quickly darted about around the bird feeder and ornamental maple out front, before finally darting away.

I couldn’t believe how tiny … and how vibrantly orange it was!

At first, I thought it was a hummer; but there are no solid orange hummingbirds: and NO hummingbird wearing the color of the bird I saw.

I wished all day it would return, so maybe I could get a quick pic of it: but, it never came back :-(

So tiny. So fast. SO ORANGE.

I am hoping it will come back so I can get a closer look at it.

The other thing is, that while surfing Shabbat music videos on Youtube, I came across this interesting video about the coming 3^rd Temple that will be built in Jerusalem.

Bob and I have known about the Temple plans, the Temple implements that have been crafted, and will be used; and the Temple garments that will be worn by the Temple Priests and attendants. We have known about these things for decades. We looked forward to the time that the Temple would be built.

Now, of course, Bob resides in Heaven – and I am left here alone, to anticipate this happening. We were both thrilled when President Trump recognized Jerusalem as Israel’s Capitol in 2017, and moved the USA Embassy there in 2018; I’m glad Bob got to experience that happening.

This video is interesting information.

I’m going to watch it as I enter my Island of Rest …

Li’Ciam! Shabbat Shalom

DEMONCRAT RHETORIC SCARING THE PUBLIC

The demoncrats are at it again, scaring the public and blaming President Trump for the coronavirus outbreak. According the them, he created it, he weaponized it, and he is dooming Americans.

In another lame-brained political coup attempt, the demoncrats are staging scare tactics photo-ops for their equally deranged minions.

(https://thehill.com/homenews/house/486202-pelosi-knocks-trump-accusing-president-of-spreading-falsehoods-about)

(https://www.newsweek.com/chuck-schumer-accuses-trump-hiding-truth-after-report-claims-pence-will-control-public-1489632)

schumer and pelosi need to back off, shut up, sit down … and let President Trump do the job he was hired to do. I really cannot stand to hear either of them speak – they are so narcissistic; they are getting in the way of what needs to be done. And what IS BEING DONE.

(https://www.foxnews.com/media/sen-john-barrasso-disturbing-to-see-schumer-dems-politicize-coronavirus)

pelosi and schumer HAVE NO SOLUTIONS, themselves. They just whine and bitch. And make problem-solving difficult.

Someone – PLEASE – slap a muzzle on chuckie-boy’s motorized slashing mouth; and yank the pen out of crazy nervous nancy’s clawed paws.

This virus seems to pop up where ever it will – whenever it will. First it was reported it originated in a bloody Chinese meat market, from raw infected butchered animals … that may, or may not, have been sold from a laboratory lab to feed the populace. Then, the information fed to the world media sources was that it spreads from animal-human contact. Then, it was reported that it spread from coughs, sneezes, and fecal matter: but first you have to be exposed to an infected person or animal, to be infected. Then, it was fed out that now it’s just cropping up in communities: for no known reason – just {boom!} it’s there. Some countries are already calling it a pandemic.

One MORE thing to push the hype for mandatory vaccines.

One MORE thing for the lead demoncrat demons, schumer and pelosi to bitch about; and parade about on stage.

One MORE thing to whip the public into a fearful mass.

The President’s job has been politically compromised and made more difficult. Because of pure hatred that has no bounds – and is spreading like an epidemic.

What do I believe about coronavirus?

Does it really matter?

If it really IS “an epidemic of pandemic proportions”, a mandatory vaccine will take too long to create; and initiate … 4 “cures” need to be found and implicated before the vaccine even comes into play. Even with a vaccine, pandemics will run their course before burning out. Viruses always come back – and they eventually burn out: to come back. It’s a vicious cycle. And vaccines are no guarantee that a virus won’t jump the vaccine.

Add to that chancy situation, that people with sketchy immune systems are not benefitted at all by compromising vaccines: vaccines intended to help them, may actually kill them quicker than the virus.

Bottom line: it’s a crap-shoot no mater how the dice are thrown.

I live in WA State. When I heard the coronavirus has come through Seattle airport, I recognized that it was only a matter of time before an outbreak happened in the State along I-5. The I-5 is not that far from where I live … about a 15 minute drive. People can carry the virus in their body for 2 weeks before experiencing symptoms. A LOT OF TRAFFIC MOVES ALONG I-5. A lot of businesses are frequented by travelers. Those business owners, managers, and employees all have spouses and children they go home to. They have parents, siblings, Aunts/Uncles, cousins – and friends they visit. Germs go piggyback; unseen, unknown.

(https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/us/coronavirus-us-cases.html)

Does it help to have demoncrats undermining the President, and shouting fearmongering rhetoric into biased social media mics? It reminded me of the early Hepatitis C, AIDS, Ebola, and MRSA epidemic outbreaks, where hate-filled fear was spewed by hate-filled people with an agenda.

Do people really feel secure health-wise when they see sanitization containers on every available surface in every establishment they visit? They sanitize their hands … then they grab the door handles and cart handles. Barehanded. Already the sanitization “protection” is compromised.

Are fearful people really going to stay cloistered in their homes – afraid to go out and have people come in?

INDEFINATELY?

Are schools, businesses, County Offices, restaurants, and tourist establishments, ect., going to close their doors indefinitely?

I don’t know what the answer is.

I don’t know what the solution is.

WHAT I DO KNOW, is that I am not going to be hamstrung by demoncrat demons schumer and pelosi – and their DC Gang – intent on politicizing e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g., and hogging the limelight with fear-mongering rhetoric.

We live in a fast-paced world now where globetrotters are all over the Earth.

We live in a world where obama worshippers; primary political obamanites ... schumer and pelosi, preach open-borders, tent cities, rampant needle drug use and promiscuous, risky, sexual activity.

WITH NO RESTRICTIONS.

We live in a politically enhanced hot house society; where disease is bred, pushed hard, and flourishes at epidemic rate.

WITH NO RESTRICTIONS.

Is it any wonder that pandemics are running wild?

Life is for living.

Wisdom is needed to enjoy living life.

And THAT is what I am going to employ.

And DO.

I have eaten Supper w-, drank coffee w-, and hugged a sister … and a fellowship friend who are Hep C positive. I have hugged people who have lived with AIDS until their time ran out; I visit with friends who have children infected with AIDS. I have family and friends dealing with MRSA – and I am not afraid to spend time with them.

In September 2018, ER attendants told us Bob’s test runs showed that Bob had MRSA complications … we were shocked, but pretty much knew how that could happen, if that was the case; it would have happened at work, where trucks are shared, and there is an infected person working there. Bob had been retired for years, so the infection had to have been lurking in his body that long. Without a clue. We would not have even known Bob was seriously ill if not for the sudden onset of stress-induced pancreatitis that landed him in ER. Aside from the vomiting, a result of the stressful fallout – the vomiting is why I insisted he go to ER – Bob hadn't been exhibiting any signs of serious illness.

We were shocked with both the diagnosis of pancreatitis ... and that followed by the test results showing MRSA in his blood, which led to sepsis. There was NO CLUE any of this was happening in his body.

And, being married to him for 44 years at the time, and being in close contact with him; having access to his body and body fluids, there was concern.

But ...

I am fine.

Healthy and sassy.

Life is short.

I’m not going to hide behind fear while life passes me by.

I'm not going to allow political lapdogs with a political agenda to dictate to me how to live.

When all is said and done; all we can really do, is enjoy life – and trust Elohim with our life.

EXEMPT

Today was another “castle” day.

With the cost of everything going up, up, up … and Social Security only granting me a piddly 28 cent increase on my monthly draw on the monies Bob & I both worked for and should rightfully expect; I went into town today to apply for Senior Home Ownership Property Tax Exemption – I went for the exemption, because a total deferral would end up with a lien placed against my home: I don’t want that. Filling out the paperwork, and getting the processing started, I made the clerk repeat everything several times: I wanted to be sure I understood my options clearly and that she understood why I needed to understand.

She was patient.

And I was tenacious ;-)

When all was said, and done, I qualified.

I still had to pay the full half-amount for April 2020, but October’s half should be quite a bit lower. I feel pretty good about getting this done, and getting it done without anger, or the frustration of not being understood. Maybe things went smoothly because my emotions are not so raw this year; maybe things went easier because it was a new girl behind the counter. Last time I had to deal with Court House minions concerning Home Ownership, it didn’t go well for anyone. Today was a LOT easier, and a lot kinder: all the way around.

I was every bit Bob’s Queen today.

But I didn’t have a princess attitude ;-)

Bob, if he was watching me, was proud of me.

I also got a workout – not like I do in Castle Rock, Mondays & Wednesdays; but I did get a cardio workout, my lungs got a little stressed, and muscles/joints were put to the task this morning. When I first parked at the Court House, I got a spot right at the door … but I had to run home quick, and grab some required papers to finish the application, and when I returned the second time, there were no available parking spaces close to the building: I had to park down by the bridge and walk back uphill to the Court House. I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the door. And the stairs were dicey too. The Court House really should have a Senior friendly access to the second floor. I managed – but barely; it wouldn’t have been so challenging if I hadn’t had to walk half a mile straight uphill, first.

I’ll have to reapply 4 years from today.

That finished, I got into my car and drove across the street to Izzy’s for lunch. It’s the only real Buffet in town, and I was hungry.

I always liked cross words puzzles, and word searches: Bob came to like word searches too; there was always at least one Word Search Book in our vehicles, for times like today, where a wait with time to kill put the book into action. So, I did 2 searches; I could have done more, but I am going through the book slowly. I’m not anxious to finish it.

Qualified, and sated, I turned the car towards home.

I went home via Industrial way because I had one more thing to accomplish. I needed to stop at Steele’s Memorial Park (aka.: funeral home), and make some changes to the notations for my Plan. I had made arrangements for my Funeral Plan when I settled Bob’s cremation arrangements, December 14^th, 2018, after coming back home from OHSU, in Oregon. The changes were small; but they are necessary. My husband is no longer here, and I can’t depend on the kids to make sure my wishes are carried out – so, the kids are now exempt from the familial duty they shun. I employed the funeral home to make sure I actually get to Eden Valley when my Heavenly Summons occurs … and I had Merry & Kerry’s names added to the Memorial Park “contact information”: Merry & Kerry both have house keys, and they know where my Cremains Box is waiting for pickup when needed.

My Cremains Box – exactly like Bob’s

Merry is my age, so she said that if she isn’t available to do that, she will make sure her girls follow through. I appreciate that. I’m pretty sure Kerry will do the same with his son, Kasey. I am grateful.

All Merry & Kerry have to do, is make sure the Box gets to Steele’s – Steele’s will make sure my boxed cremains get to Eden Valley to be placed with Bob’s.

September 3^rd, 2019, I placed this marker for Bob’s precise location so I never lose sight of it.

I know I sound like I am obsessed with this, but it’s important.

When my mother died well over a decade ago, her cremains were abandoned by her husband, Alan. Her 4^th husband, and the worst of the lot. Because Alan had talked her into naming him as Executor instead of my brother, Mahlon, who had always been named; when she died ... Alan left her cremains at the Mortuary in Idaho; where they’ve no doubt been trashed by now. Alan was the only person who could legally claim them. And he didn’t. Instead he came back here, to WA State and cleaned the house out. He hauled all the furniture away. Trashed the Photo Albums, antique Bible, and my father’s Military Photo Albums (Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force – those were always to go to Mahlon). The only thing Alan honored my mother with was to make sure Sam got the house free and clear. Everyone else got screwed over. Including my mother.

I don’t want that kind of screwing happening to me.

I do not want my cremains to end up in a trash pile behind the funeral home because nobody claimed them.

So, I set my own Plans in order, in December of 2018 – and again this week, with the house keys given to Merry & Kerry; and the contact info update.

I am thankful and grateful that Merry & Kerry like me well enough to honor Bob’s memory by honoring the woman their brother loved.

And, it goes without saying, that if The Rapture happens … everyone is exempt from honoring my wishes :-D

Now that the dying arrangements have been attended to and settled, it’s time to get living fully underway ;-)

MOD VIOLA CROCKPOT DUSTCOVER

Viola trim - top view. I like it :-D

Today was a busy day.

I am really enjoying the 45 minute exercise thing in Castle Rock :-D But, I am noticing strain marks on my neck and collar bone area:

Red strain marks – the result of upper body strength exercises, using weights (3 lbs), look like freckles. They should disappear, eventually.

 

I like using weights … 5 years ago, I was easily weightlifting 120 pounds overhead from an overhead position on my weight bench – Bob didn’t believe I could lift that much, until he spotted me one afternoon. But 3 pound weights are all the Senior Center has on hand, so I have been using 2 at a time – in each hand. Eventually, I want to bump that up. Not having grandchildren … or great-grands to lift, cuddle, heft as they grow … and pretty much vegging out, and not doing anything more strenuous that lifting a coffee cup since becoming a widow, has weakened my upper body. Hence the strain marks on my upper body area. From 6 pounds in each hand! It’s pathetic.

But my skin has always been quick to show strain marks. Strenuous sneezing from hay fever or a cold, or coughing from an asthmatic flareup, can make strain marks on my face that makes me look like I’ve gone through a meat grinder. Once, when we were newlyweds and Bob snuck up on me in a playful mood – spinning me around quick and throwing me over his shoulder in a cave man mimic … I was dangling down his back as he ran around the house with me, being silly – and me squealing, equally silly: I could feel the blood rushing to my face, and I told him to put me down. He eventually did, but the damage was done, really as soon as he threw me over his shoulder and my head was in a downward position. Strain marks immediately marked my face, eyelids, neck: it was awful. Poor Bob; he felt so bad. He never did that again.

So, when these freckly marks showed up on my neck the other day, I knew the weighty exercises had caused it. As my muscles get used to being worked though, that should go away.

After my session this morning, I went to Keenager’s and had a good time of easy convo and good fellowship.

After that came to a close, I picked up the Kelso SC Itinerary, grabbed some kitchen garbage bags & door hooks at the $ Store; and met up with Bob’s youngest brother Kerry, in town, for a few minutes before heading home.

Back home, I finished up the crockpot dust cover I have been working on.

I chose Johnny-Jump Up violas for the trim; I like these flowers, and let them pretty much run wild outside: they reseed very easily, and are very pretty little flowers. I also put them in my green salads – so they should have a place in my Spring-theme Dustcover lineup ;-)

I decided on a stripy sc pattern

I used DC stitch on the final upper lap

Edged with a picot edging

MOD Viola Crockpot Dustcover. FINISHED!

Dustcover finished, I put my bath hooks in place:

Spare Bath Hook: pretty high up, for me … but I need the stretch to stay flexible, so I’m not complaining too vociferously ;-)

Door protected by adhesive-backed, cushioned Door Bumpers.

I had to haul my kitchen step-ladder into the bedroom to figure this latch out. I refused to feel stupid. I prefer to consider the activity, “educational” ;-)

I had intended to put a hook on the Master Bath door, too, but there was not enough overhead clearance – the hook’s hook kept coming up against the molding when I tried to shut the door.

So, I grabbed the hammer and a small pair of pliers that would fit my hand comfortably, and went to work pounding, and tweaking the hook’s hook until I was satisfied with the new shaping. I also stuck adhesive-backed Door Protectors on the back of this hook too. No matter where we lived, ‘resell issues’ are always in my mind when adding things like this hook – I don’t want to mar the doors with unprotected metal.

The hook may look weird where it’s at, but it works for me – and it’s not a permanent fixture.

We hadn’t had time to fully move into our new home, here on Earth, before Bob went Home beyond the clouds: Bob only lived with me here for 18 months, before the next-door neighbor’s paranoid bitching killed him …

Repeat Posting from July 30^th, 2019

Last year was pretty much a blur.

A painful blur.

A scary moving forward blur.

Disjointed and surreal.

This year – now: today – is still surreal most days, but then there are days like today … where I’m living in the moment, and bringing life to the home we bought together and started setting up together.

It’s small ‘life’.

But it’s life, just the same.

I mentioned earlier that I had stopped at the $ Tree to buy garbage bags while downtown – well, I also bought 2 glass vases and 2 bunches of silk flowers: keeping with the Spring Flowers theme. Silk flowers are the safest thing right now; last year I had bought a couple house plants … and they died from neglect because my brain kept misfiring. I cried a lot last year – but the houseplants didn’t get watered. So, I think I’ll stick with silk flowers to brighten the place up until my brain finds balance again and I can stay on track with living things.

Master bath

Kitchen

I’m making an effort to try bringing a small bit of life back into our home, this year.

All the boxes that hadn’t been unpacked yet before I was planning a Celebration of Life for the love of my life, have finally been unpacked.

There are still 2 boxes left to unpack form the disastrous November 2019 proposed move down south. Those may take time to get to – when I look at them, the pain of that ridiculous ordeal washes over me again … and I walk out of the room. I tend to procrastinate doing things that have pain attached to them. I am a wuss when it comes to pain; physical or emotional. They will eventually get unpacked, but for the moment, I am ignoring them. There’s nothing in them that I need now – in the moment: it’s just stuff.

What I need is to continue moving forward, with peace of mind.

And that isn’t easy.

This house was to be our last hurrah. Our retirement ‘island in the stream’ where we would, finally, be able to slow down and enjoy peaceful golden years. The low-maintenance place, where Bob could kick back and relax. The home “where the heart is”.

Instead we were – against our will – pulled into a nightmare scenario; the end result being my husband’s death.

My heart is with Bob; his embrace was my home.

This humble castle is nice … Bob did good buying it … but, it is not a “home”, in comparison to Bob, who was my real “home”.

I have to let go of that kind of thinking. I know I do.

But, it’s hard.

So, I let go in small steps.

I have kept a bare minimum of all the tools Bob had: I’ve kept just enough to keep home maintenance and management going smooth – they are pieces of our life together; things my husband’s hands touched. Things my husband showed me to use properly and effectively. When I use them, I feel close to him, close to the life we shared. The life I don’t want to let go of. These things hold memories of a lifetime once filled with love and life. Bob’s son from his first marriage took some tools before he removed himself from my life; and I gave the rest to Kerry.

I know that to move forward and live my new life successfully, I need to clear things out and keep only significant treasures. But ALL of Bob’s things are significant to me. All of his things represent his life. Half of them represent his life with me; his love for me. I have given a lot of stuff away, and I have cleared a lot of stuff out. I know that I can’t build a future living in the past. I also know that finding a happy medium is a hard task to undertake. Figuring out how to hold onto pieces of our life, while trying to pave a road forward is frustrating because every thought and every action is tripwired with a lurking emotion.

And yet, I am noticing that with the dawning of 2020, the frustrations are couched in positive ambiance.

The wrapping up of 2018, and the incoming turbulence of 2019, had me overwhelmed with all the sudden changes. Indecision ruled for 13 long and hard months.

Now, in the 3^rd month of 2020, I am looking around our home that has unequivocally morphed into my home … and I realize that I am walking through it with a lighter step that wasn’t there a month ago. I am thinking of the house in terms of ‘my home’ when I think of it now – when I speak of it now. The outlook, the thought, the talk warms my heart: and breaks it at the same time. Sometimes I still lapse into “our” and “we” when talking with friends about home, life, and the pursuit of happiness. But I noticed that in the now, as the calendar days move forward through 2020, I am speaking a lot more in terms of “me”, “mine”, “I”. My present is a LOT more present.

I still miss seeing Bob when I walk into a room in the house.

I still miss hearing his voice; his laughter.

I still miss feeling his touch.

And I always will miss those pieces of my life in my new life.

But I also know that Elohim is my husband now.

It is HIS strength, and His love that I must draw on now.

So, when the past calls to me, and I feel my thoughts slipping into melancholy with the missingness of Bob and the happiness he gave me … I will lift up my head, look at the Spring flowers blooming (outdoors and in yarn creations), munch on prolific violas; and focus on the love, faithfulness, provision, and securities of Elohim. My husband in my new life.

R.I.P. CLIVE CUSSLER

OH MAN!

Bob turned me onto Clive's books about a decade ago ... a guy at work gave him a book to read, and it came home in Bob's lunch pail. When I opened it up the next morning, the book looked interesting; so I asked Bob if I could read it after he was finished.

I WAS HOOKED.

We read every one of his books after that one. I think the only book we haven't read yet, is the one proposed to be released later this year. We read the others over, and over, and over again. I will admit though, that I am not a fan of the later series, co-written by his son - those always seemed kinda flat and bland. But the others were full of sparks.

Maybe Clive's books appealed to me because I am a tom-boy type of gal ;-)

Sad news.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/feb/26/clive-cussler-novelist-dies-88?CMP=share_btn_fb&fbclid=IwAR1uT6ub2MNJk67jJqpbPj1RZg5D5OM0FMFxwmgnqN0grwvpqP2h9R_QYiY

But, on the other hand, 88 is a pretty good run on life. If Clive lived any of the adventures his books portray ... he was darned lucky to live that long. Just sayin'.

R.I.P. Clive: you are missed.