5-MONTH HIATUS PLAN

I had an appointment in town with Dr. tack about my eyeglasses lenses this morning. That went okay – my eyes were checked, and the prescription in my right lens changed. Hopefully when my glasses are returned to me, I will be able to actually use them.

I did not have to wear a mask: the receptionists did not like that, but I did not have to wear one.

I am actually medically exempt, per State ‘mandate’ … but businesses are not respecting that exemption. Some are very insistent.

Already, every business in town is acting like angry joe has won the Election … they are doubling down on mask wearing; and everyone, everywhere is acting like deranged chimps when they see someone without a mask.

State regulations say that I do not have to prove that I have a medical condition … yet, I am continually pushed to do just that. And masks are forced on me anyway. It is illegal – it is offensive. It is just plain rude.

If I was black, I would not have to wear a mask.

If I was muslim, I would not have to wear a mask.

If I was Asian, I would not have to wear a mask.

If I was Native American, I would not have to wear a mask.

If I was a demonrat politician (or one of their snot-nosed kids), I would not have to wear a mask.

Apparently covid-19 ONLY STRIKES AND CAN BE SPREAD by Caucasians who do not hate President Trump.

Covid-19 seems to be a very biased virus that trolls a selected group of people, weaponized by unsuspecting ‘Patriot Nationist Americans’ because pelosi believes President Trump “created the virus” to overthrow the world and dominate the masses.

pelosi is insane.

And so are the state mandates.

Legally, per State Mandate, I do not have to wear a mask. And I cannot legally be harassed for not wearing a mask.

Yet, businesses are getting around that, and their employees are rude and obnoxious.

I left Dr. Tack’s building, and drove 2 minutes up the street to AT&T to pay my bill; paying at the downtown office insures I do not get hit with a late fee. Apple is very sneaky in making sure the bill mailing and the payment received date nets them a late fee: paying downtown as soon as I receive the bill in the mail is the safest way to make sure there is no late fee.

I was kept waiting half an hour before I was ushered to a payment kiosk – simply because I was not wearing a mask. The 4 people that had been there when I arrived, had wrapped up their business and the store was empty. There was no valid reason to keep me waiting.

Other than I was mask-less.

The employees were driving a point home.

I waited them out.

The bill eventually got paid.

And I spent more $$ at Winco; following.

I am planning a 5-month hiatus.

I am d.o.n.e. with the craziness.

I did not like the Jennie-O turkey breast I cooked last year – this one seems promising.

I can eat Thanksgiving Supper with my friends; and this turkey meat will carry me through the Summer of 2021.

Froze Pumpkin Pie slices planned for future meals.

The pie slices made me think of Pumpkin Spice Lattes: I need to whip some up

( https://www.blondelish.com/recipes/homemade-pumpkin-spice-latte-recipe/)

I also changed the furnace filter out: it was filthy.

Filthy filter! I think this is mostly wildfire ash residue ...

I should probably contact someone about a duct cleaning estimate, too. There are a lot of dust bunnies littering the floors no matter how often I sweep the floors. The ducts are probably filled with dust – the previous owner really didn’t do much with the house other than live in it. God only, knows, when the last time the ducts were cleaned; or if they were ever cleaned.

After all this “necessary stuff” was completed, I thought I’d check my FB messages, and I saw I had a message from some widow in a Widow Group who jumped my case; thinking I was not ‘considerate enough’ and that widows who lost their husbands to covid deserve more ‘understanding’ because their husbands died from covid … and those of us who can’t wear masks should apologize for refusing to wear one.

Where the hell do people get off, making asinine demands?

Obviously, my husband died too – otherwise I would not be in a Widow’s Groups. Bob’s body didn’t die from covid … but he’s gone just the same. I refuse to apologize to another widow over death differences.

W.T.F.

People have lost their fricking minds.

Fear and grief have made them selfish.

Fear and grief have made them mean.

I’m sick and tired of the bullshit – from every narcissistic sector of society that thinks they have the right to bully everyone else, and bulldoze over basic rights so they can feel like safe appeased lemmings.

I have the right to breathe freely!

Without apologizing to anyone for that Right.

I have the right to be out in the public breathing freely.

Without being made to feel guilty for exercising that Right.

I have the right to do business in the public sector while breathing freely.

Without being treated like a criminal for engaging in that Right.

Last time I checked – I was still living in America.

I went to bed last night … in America.

I woke up this morning … in America.

I live IN America; hopefully America will still BE America the end of this Electoral week.

Americans have Individual Rights that cannot be impeded.

By anyone: for any reason.

It is not my responsibility to make a masked person behind a Lucite partition feel comfortable WHILE they are wearing a mask and sitting comfortably behind a Lucite shield … that is just political nonsense.

They are “protected”; ((((I)))) am the one “taking a risk”, and I am NOT afraid.

Covid-19 doesn’t scare me.

I am more concerned about my air being restricted by a nonsensical tyrannical mandated mask, offensively – and seriously – hampering my airways.

I resent the push of fear they insist I should be feeling.

It is a certainty that I will die, some day – at some point.

But I refuse to be a sacrificial death so some demonrat deadhead can feel sketchily secure in the political games they have allowed themselves to be lured into engaging in.

I have plans – I will spend my 5-month hiatus working out a schedule, and a feasible budget; God willing some of them will actually become a reality.

A premature death caused by idiots is not on the docket.

I need a fricking break from all the insanity that has gripped this nation since 2009.

I wish someone would stuff a sock in barak hussain obama’s big/fat/loud/mouth.

All he (and that bitchy ‘wife’ of his) do is grab a mic and create chaotic division when they open their hate-filled racist fly traps.

I’ve really had it with the craziness that has monopolized the past 5 years, and erupted to highjack 2020.

I needed balance.

I want peace and joy in my life.

I exited FB, closed the laptop … and picked up my knitting project.

Working on last portion of Baby Sweater; 2 at once. NB

Baby Sweater body finished; ready for yoke work. NB

Starting yoke piece of Baby Sweater. NB

I will have to go into town to pick up my glasses when they are ready, but when that is done – I am settling in for an uninterrupted 5-month hiatus.

Hopefully, by March 2021, we can put all the destruction of March 2020 behind us and start living fully again.

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.