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)

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.