Author: dianecwhitlock

(A revision of an article in a past Cody Living publication.)

Here now we find ourselves headlong into spring! “Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come!” Song of Songs 2:12

The tricksy season is upon us with 50 or 60° days and then 4 to 8 inches of cold snow the next. My heart can’t take such teasing, but I endure knowing that the warmth of April and May is right around the corner. I mean, after all, it’s not like it’s December or January, right? (…even if it feels like it everyday!)

The busyness of tilling and soil preparation will soon be going on all around us and those planted seeds will yield a sprout of hope pointing toward harvest. If you’ve been on this planet for very long you will know this one truth: summer is always in a hurry to pass us by and it’s up to us to take the time to make it linger!

As I walk my burgeoning fields the pasture grass is on the rise. The horses turn loose of their winterwear with fur and heels flying, reflecting the freedom of the warm spring sun.

The birdsong fills my ears. The Cranes, the always faithful Robin, the Meadowlark, and of course the Red Wing Blackbird with his trills and tweets. Nothing lifts my spirits more than the fragrancies of thawing, wet earth and harmonizing bird notes.

I have lived most of my days outside. Maybe your mama was always issuing you the same warning: “Go outside and play or else!” Now I know as somebody’s nana, she was wanting to get down to some spring housekeeping and perhaps had a new recipe in mind she was longing to employ. Kids underfoot make for an unnecessary distraction in attempting to complete either endeavor.

Here’s a little spring poem for you:

“Answer to a Child’s Question” — Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, the linnet and the thrush say: “I love and I love!” In winter they are silent the wind so strong; what it says I don’t know but it seems a loud song. But green leaves and blossoms in sunny warm weather and singing and loving all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, the green fields below him the blue sky above, that he sings and he sings, and forever sings he: “I love my love and my love loves me.”

… and a springtime recipe to bake for your family:

Classic Carrot Cake

8 oz crushed pineapple (drained)

4 large eggs

2 c shredded carrots (about 4 medium)

1 c white sugar

1 c brown sugar

1 c canola oil

2 c AP flour

2 teas baking soda

2 teas cinnamon

1/4 teas salt

3/4 c toasted pecans ( optional)

Preheat oven to 350° and grease a 13 x 9 baking dish

In a bowl whisk together all the dry ingredients: flour, soda, cinnamon, salt and nuts if using. Set aside

In a large mixing bowl with a paddle attachment stir together eggs, carrots, sugars, oil, and pineapple. Add flour mixture in and mix up until everything is moistened. Do not over mix. Transfer mixture into prepared baking dish and bake until tester comes out clean —approximately 35 to 40 minutes

Remove from oven and placed on a wire rack to cool completely.

Frosting

8oz cream cheese at room temp

4 oz butter at room temp

1 tablespoon real vanilla

1 lb. Confectioners sugar

4-6 tablespoons of milk

Beat butter and cream cheese together. With mixer running on low speed add a 1/4 cup or so of powdered sugar at a time, add vanilla, add milk in small increments intermittent with powdered sugar until a nice creamy texture appears. Frost that cooled cake, put the kettle on to boil, call up your neighbors to come over for a piece of cake and a have yourselves a good visit!

Saddle up Missy, we got a trail to blaze!

Love to all!

Diane

Yes, it’s that time of year again! Time to re-evaluate, reroute, rewrite, rethink, rewire, renew, and basically overhaul your lifestyle because of the date. Excuse me? I don’t know about you, but I find this matter slightly disconcerting. I am not built this way, and maybe you’re not either. Let me put it to you in other words.

I started last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, day after day, day in and day out to begin better habits for the coming of each new year. I do not find it helpful to set unrealistic goals and expectations upon myself come January because the calendar pages turn. There’s always going to be another January -they seem to come at least once a year! Now you can call me simple, but I’m thinking (hoping) there’s going to be another January before I die. So, I find it useful to start a good habit, say in July, or November. This helps me to keep moving forward positively and resolutely. I’d like to think that I could be strong and teachable, on any given day.

I heard a quote the other day stating that clutter is simply unmade decisions. You know, like that box full of memories from your grandmother who passed away about 25 years ago. You can’t decide what to do with it, to unpack it, to give it away, or even the decision to just leave it sitting there with all the other boxes of old papers, and books, and clothes, and shoes, and coats, and dishes that you’re never going to use…ever again. Please trust me on this one. I have taken a few extra spins around the sun and perhaps know a little about decision making and collecting things.

In my finite wisdom and excellent decision making processes, I have as of late, made five decisions towards my lifetime of possessions: there will not be another bakery, I will not open a bookstore, I will not open a bed-and-breakfast, there will be no rock band that I am to be the lead singer/lead guitarist of, and I will not own a wonderfully organized and well-stocked, indoor riding arena/stable. This has begun to reduce clutter in my household and in my mind. You may think this all sounds cynical and that I’ve lost hope, but that is far from the truth. It’s called being realistic, which is something I’ve been quite unfamiliar with! I believe I may have a new found freedom in being more realistic and focusing my attention on things that actually matter.

Let’s ponder for a moment things that may actually matter. How about more wonderment and less wondering why. This thought seems freeing, somehow bringing less self-imprisonment in the mind —an accepting of the unacceptable of sorts.

What if we had more remembrance and less ungratefulness. We could focus on the good things in our lives, the good people in our lives, the good words spoken into our lives, and less on complaining and dashing everybody around us against the rocks trying to compare our lives with others.

What if we gave more forgiveness hence carrying less heavy baggage? Take it from me, unforgiveness is a large backpack filled with old rocks that need to hit the ground. This may even include forgiving ourselves.

How about if we took self care for a spin and left exhaustion on the curb? What if we really did have less imaginative troubles and more real ones like: I might have to put on an extra layer to go for a ten minute walk and get some new air in my lungs. Oh what joy and self introspection could there be with the wild Wyoming winds whipping my hair about my face? What about that cup of cold water that you forgot to drink today?

I think maybe the biggest take away from all these words is that on a day-to-day basis we could probably take time to clean up some details in our life that have been niggling us all along. This might free up mind space, home space, and heart space, thus giving us more of our sweet selves to give to others.

Saddle up Missy, we got a trail to blaze!

Love yous,

Diane

Howdy, Howdy, and Merry Christmas to all from big, wonderful Wyoming!

Behold my living room at Christmas time. As I look around I see just about eight to ten Santas, but who’s counting, and nine stockings lining the fireplace mantle. We used to put the tree in the corner, but somehow this year, it ended up right smack-dab in the middle of the living room. We have all decided we love it there and intend to do so from here on out.

The bakery has been put to good use this year as we have made everything from an English Christmas pud, to peanut brittle, to gingerbread man. You may have seen our reel on Instagram when we lit the English pudding on fire with Adele singing along. It had thousands of views! My little, old, mottled hands are almost the stars of the show as they dumped the contents of a seven-hour boiled pudding onto a platter, poured rum over the top, and lit it on fire! It was miraculous. We laughed, we cried, we ate, and enjoyed every bite.

The wrapped gifts are beginning to gather under the tree and there’s a set of drums in the closet patiently awaiting my husband‘s arrival home from Tennessee so he can put it together for my granddaughter to come over and bang on Christmas day. Rum puh pum pum! This should be very exciting as she is quite musical, not to mention a very hands-on child! I am believing it to be the perfect gift this holiday season even if the parents say it cannot come home with her.

Come January 2, the secondhand tree will go back down the road or even in the trash (it’s been loved well,) the stockings will go back in their box, the ornaments in theirs, the congregation of Santas will disperse and the house will look extremely bare and decluttered. That will be OK with me as my OCD kicks in some days and I struggle to get anything done with all of the cluttered Christmas commotion afoot. Tis the season though and I’m making peace amidst the scattered winds that whip up Wyoming snows for the holidays.

I hope you are having some peaceful moments as well. I hope you have all your gifts wrapped and don’t wait until midnight on Christmas Eve. I hope your kids and grandkids eat, sing, laugh, play games, and enjoy one another’s company. That is almost the best gift of all! I hope that you know the true reason for the season, Jesus Christ, and the day he came to earth to take up his manger and his throne all the same time.

Saddle up Missy, we’ve got a trail to blaze. Love you all!

Diane

For the last few days I have been “putting up” tomatoes and apples. With many vegetables from the garden I oven roasted a marinara sauce, and with all the apples picked from an abandoned, nearby orchard, I have jarred applesauce and frozen pie filling to bake some most coveted, mouthwatering apple pie at Thanksgiving time.

Oh, the voices that accompanied me yesterday morning in my kitchen. Those of a beloved mother, grandmother, and great grandmothers, hallowed the halls of my mind as I cored and peeled, salted and jarred not only a piece of a harvest but a piece of the past. They will all yet be missed this holiday season and still I will be thankful for those gathered at our banqueting table.

Fall rains have come and greened up parched summer pastures, and we even have a new addition to our herd — a bull, calf was born at dawn on September fifteenth. 

Jet black and pure, you’d think he was a March hare as wild as he has become. He’s got 15 acres of field to romp around in and yet he has to push through all the fences and take naps in the sage brush where I cannot see him.  I have spent much time tromping through the tall grasses looking for him even though his mother doesn’t seem at all concerned that he’s not within her sight! Parenting comes in many forms.

May you celebrate these last warm days of the summer season as these moments swiftly slip into autumn with all of her crisp air and apples still clinging to the branches and turning brighter vermillion shades.

Soon old man winter will sing his song, forced indoors I will also sing mine. Though it may sound more like a lament as the stiff winter winds hem us in on all sides. 

Saddle up, missy! We’ve got a trail to blaze!

Love you.

Diane

With Labor Day gone and done, all of the white shoes, white shorts, white capris, white belt and purse all tucked away in storage until next Memorial day when it’s totally legal to retrieve and wear once again. The signs of autumn creep softly in on the wings of the wild goose.

The black birds begin to flock up as the meadowlark and red-winged blackbird take their leave under the shadow of the wild goose scurrying to the next bare barley field to glean loose grains left behind by the farmer’s combine.

Which way the wild goose flies can only be directed by the confusing winds of late August and early September. Winds that blow from the south one minute and the north the next, causing temperatures to rise and fall in utter confusion. The cacophony of their honking overhead only makes us work faster knowing old man winter could sing as early as he wants without anyone’s permission.

There are many vegetables and fruits to be harvested before the killing frost. The empty canning jars beckon, knowing that Grandma Betty’s canned cinnamon apples will bring nostalgic delight come Thanksgiving time— all warm and familiar to my tongue.

Oh wild goose on the wing, will you head north or south today? Will your music carry me back to my childhood on Lake Michigan, way up north? Will my heart ever forgive the change of the seasons that cause me such grief? Can I find peace and joy in the seasons of my life as blessed and unending as they may seem?

Sometimes the wild geese fly so close overhead I can hear the flapping of their wings as they change positions in their reformation.

Perhaps a metaphor for life? Perhaps a gentle reminder to relinquish my position of assumed control and to allow the Lord to lead in my own reformation.

Saddle up Missy, we’ve got a trail to blaze!

Love you!

Diane

I’m wondering what you are hoping for today? I know our world is strange and topsy turvy. I know nothing seems to make sense (even more so than any other time in history) –so it seems. But I am a firm believer in that ‘things are not as they appear.’ There is a deeper truth in the works that we are not seeing or cannot see. Perhaps we are even being shielded from the intricacies of future plans that may only confuse us or cause greater turmoil.

Consider the context of Jeremiah 29:11 when God tells the Israelites that he has a plan for them beyond the false prophets lies. The Israelites are tempted to believe all the strangeness of the times swirling around them. They most certainly had to be asking themselves what is happening here? Nothing was making sense. Yes, they were being held captive in Babylon, but this for their own good and also all part of God’s bigger plans for hope and a future. Talk about topsy turvy and strange!

There is none but God who is able to see seventy years into the future. Simply put, he is the one to look to and the one to trust for all of our tomorrows. This is proverbially so much easier said than done but in order to ever realize the goodness of God, we must try to hang on to hope.

How do we hang on to hope? This directive is also in the Scripture of Jeremiah 29. Verse twelve says that when things get weird (my added words,) then we will call on him and come and pray to him, and he will listen to us. It also says that we will seek him and find him when we seek him with all of our heart. (I wonder why we wait till it all goes completely south when we finally seek God with all of our heart? This too part of the plan.) God promises the Israelites that he will come to them and fulfill his good promise to them and bring them back home. And he did! As Christians, our hope is in Christ alone. He is coming back to get us and that’s a promise that should bring great hope to our weary souls…and he will!

We may not get to go back to Mayberry with Andy and Aunt Bea, but then again who wants to? The good, old days will most certainly pale in comparison to the plans that God has for us.

So, don’t let go. Stay in the moment. Take care of yourself just for today. Make a plan for this week to go for walks while summer is still upon us. Each some fresh veggies from the garden and peaches and apples from the tree. Go to the farmers market. Visit with your neighbors and treat yourself to the goodness of the season. Get outside and pull a weed, pet your dog or horse, hug your family with a hug that lasts a little longer than usual. Try to see beyond your last inconvenience or complaint. Keep your mouth shut a little longer in conversation and actually listen to who is speaking and the message they are trying to convey. You don’t have to solve everyone’s dilemmas or be right–just for today!

Lean into God’s plan. He will most certainly fulfill every promise he has ever made. I’m quite sure he already has… I’m just a little slow in my unbelief. Oh God! Please help me in my unbelief!!

Saddle up missy, we got a trial to blaze!

Love you much. Diane

Well, it’s been a long, long time but I just wanted to update you on the last few years and months in Culinaire Claire’s world! So much has changed as so much remains the same. Claire’s French Bakery was going great guns until I couldn’t stand up anymore with pains from complete overuse in my back–from neck to hips. Turns out rolling all those croissants and kneading loaves and loaves of bread weekly is harder work than you might imagine!

So, after discontinuing the weekly menu/email, baking and deliveries, I had many appointments with the chiropractor, acupressurist and the couch. It was a bit of a long summer waiting for it all to heal and now I’m in the midst of strengthening my core again. I am only baking to order, making sourdough, rye and some sweets for friends and family. I miss my job, but I know now that I can’t continue to approach this whole business of baking like I’m killing snakes! I’m still so happy to be bread to all kinds of hungry as each opportunity presents itself.

A new route I am traveling is to write a couple of books within the next few months and years. I have done much journaling throughout my lifetime and have been involved in many activities and experiences that will lend themselves to at least three books rattling around in this head and heart of mine.

I believe I have some wisdom to impart if not a few good laughs to humor you through your days! There is a cookbook, a laugh book and a hope and healing book for women.

The rerouting has been one of introspection and difficulty. You see, I have never really been great with accepting change. I tend to overthink things and usually think I am to blame if situations go awry. A bit of a control freak, I am concerned about many things. I am a take charge kind of girl for the most part and I can get things done! Just stand back, hold my cuppa, and watch this!

One thing I do like about me is my teachable spirit. I can be taught and I love to learn. I am an avid reader, keeper of journals, and fond of learning new skills and hobbies. I have been called a great many things, but the one that I choose to remember and like is “Renaissance Woman!” Yep! That’s me–woman of the world.

I hope to continue this blog with more frequency. I hope you continue to come back!

Thanks for listening.

Saddle up missy, we got a trail to blaze!

Love you! Diane

 

Don’t you know that somehow, right out of left field, I’ve contracted pneumonia. I have never had pneumonia. I have never been this sick in all of my life. There is plenty of time to reminisce about your life when you are sentenced to the first week of bed rest after you have already feverishly been in bed for a week prior. Under my breath my doctor sort of evilly chortled, “You’re just getting warmed up!” I now have an even deeper respect for those who are chronically ill with debilitating diseases and cancer.

I am trying hard to stay down, because let’s face it–I am an utter bone head. I do want to heal up but my sense of determination, mental and physical strength to carry out what my mind can dream up, and the will power to complete the task is phenomenal! I’m not bragging. This can be a detriment when you begin to age and your body plays tricks on you. You actually need wise people in your life to guide you into safekeeping. That is if you will actually listen. Well let me just say that pain is an excellent teacher no matter what form it takes and not one I will soon forget.

As I lye in my bed, delirious from fever, exhaustion and too many meds to combat the infiltration in my left  upper lung, my strange and imaginative mind began to write my obituary and plan my funeral. I reasoned that I didn’t want to leave loved ones guessing in their grief. I wanted to finish relationships well… leave nothing unsaid or undone.  You know–cover all the bases so everyone felt loved and included. Boy, for the Queen of my kingdom I sure do have a lot of authority over other people’s emotions! I may have even reasoned my way from the coffin to the urn having not been a prior believer in cremation. I now know who will be singing, my playlist, I have written my own eulogy, and I have a few of my former pastors lined up in my mind to speak the truth in love. Ain’t nobody gonna preach this girl into heaven. I haven’t always been that nice. But thank God my entrance into Heaven doesn’t depend on how well or how badly I have behaved in my lifetime. There is One who already paid the price and you better know I believe it!

Frankly, I have been inspired to live a better life when I arise from this sick bed. Now this new plan doesn’t mean doing more, baking more, pleasing more people. No, this new plan means taking better stock of what I have been given, taking better care of my tribe, and even my own self. Turns out I’m not Superwoman after all. (maybe Elastigirl?) I seriously didn’t have a clue!  I’m a little thick, highly dramatic, and an action figure. Impetuous at times perhaps… but in my lifetime I’ve gotten a few things done. Maybe they didn’t all need to be done, but oh well. My work here is finished!?

In the picture at the top, the baby on the left is me. The sweet, sweet girl on the right is my first granddaughter, Grace. The good Lord sure knew what he was doing when he sent that beautiful, wonderful, active, determined, humorous, bundle of love and joy into all of our lives. Did I mention how much I love her and am so proud to be related to her? My middle daughter stated so profoundly, “Mom! She kinda makes you want to live a better life! Doesn’t she?”

Isn’t that the truth? Don’t you just want the best for your children? And then to get given such a gift as a grandchild. I already thought I had so much love in my heart. Who knew there was room for so much more!  (Construction Man says if he knew being a grampa was so great he would have skipped having children and went straight to being a grandparent!)  I’ve since taken it upon myself to help him navigate such simplicity and profundity!

I simply want to say that as I look at that picture of me in my highchair, (obviously waiting patiently for some sort of nourishment,) and how many decades later there sits Grace in her highchair hamming it up, chubby and happy; I’ve come to realize that grace comes in many forms!

I’m quite certain my mother fed me that day and cleaned up the mess afterwards. Grace.

I know for a fact I fed my children and cleaned up the mess afterwards. Grace.

I have read in the Bible that God fed his children and cleaned up the mess afterwards. Grace.

I’m sure that in all of our lives we have been hungry, been fed, made messes and were helped somehow by someone to get them cleaned up. Pure grace. Unmerited favor. It’s just something you can’t earn. Grace upon grace. What a gift this Grace!

I’m hoping your experience with grace is just as amazing, challenging, loving, joyful, and enlightening as mine has been.

Oh to rise from this bed and begin anew. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound. Grammy misses you sweet girl.

Thanks for going down the rabbit hole with this  delirious, old-ish woman. My fever has broke, the coughing is subsiding and the antibiotics are kicking in. Safe to say I’m on the mend. Till next time…

Saddle up missy! We got a trail to blaze.

Love you.

Diane

Recently, there was this lady so excited to hear that I have a blog!

“Do you keep up with it and blog regularly?” she inquired.

Sadly, my reply was honest admitting that alas, I do not. It’s not that I am lazy and avoiding my blog page. I find blogging enjoyable. Quite the contrary.

It’s just that I have not sat down since February! And the sweet girl in this picture is one of the main reasons why. My beautiful, first granddaughter. Isn’t she just a peach? We are all so taken with her. She is six months old now and fills our days and hearts with more love than should be allowed.

Also, I have been baking. From croissants to breads, cakes to tarts and back again… boy, have I been baking. This next pict is a recent birthday cake (chocolate raspberry with chocolate ganache,) for a man in our community who turned 88 years old just last week. I’ve always said I am going to live till I’m 88. I’m sure I will! He was happy with his birthday cake.

This next photo is of… drum roll please… my new commercial bakery space!! Yay for me! Yay for Cody which now has an official European bakery to supply folks with wholesome, artisan breads, pastries, croissants and sweets. Construction Man built it for me this summer up at our ranch and it was inspected and approved by the health inspector just a few short weeks ago. Wholesale orders are coming in and the farmers markets are going strong. We are currently looking for a downtown store front to provide a place for people to shop for all their future baking needs. Fresh bread for every family–now doesn’t that sound just right?

And lastly, this purple petunia photo is the reason for the word ‘heritage’ a’top the page. My husband’s grandmother, Betty, is my grandmother too. She passed away several years ago and is terribly missed by us all. A delightful, talented woman, she always made me feel special and loved within our family. Needless to say her favorite color was purple. From shoes to clothing to decor, everything was purple. She was a fabulous quilter and many of her quilts were–you guessed it! Hues of PURPLE!

As I was rolling out more croissant dough early the other morning I felt as if I belonged to a much bigger picture. It was as if all of those older women who have gone before me, rolling dough for family and friends, were very close by as the same sun peaked over the horizon.  I reasoned that this rolling pin in my hands, (which was Gramma B’s,)  the sweat on my brow, and this huge, antique wooden table laden with flour, were drawing me into a warm and wonderful society of caregivers, a heritage of cooks, bakers, and keepers of the home that simply loved what they did. A complete circle of life and love that encompasses me too.

I can hear them gabbing in the kitchen:  Grandmother Lily, Grandma Claire, Grandma Betty, Grandma Nan, Grandma Jean, Grandma Marg sharing, solving the worlds problems over a table of floured dough. And now… Grammie Diane!  I’m so joyful to be included in such a prestigious group of talented, amazing, loving, giving women. I hope to run the race well and see them again, my cloud of witnesses. Of course and thankfully, Grandma Nan is still in her kitchen making cream puffs for my daddy. Love you Mama!

What’s been transmitted or acquired to/by you from your predecessors? What do you possess as a result of your natural birthright? What is your heritage? I hope you can look back fondly and feel the love of a good grandmother, mother or caregiver surrounding you. If not, my door’s open. My arms too! I’m a grandma now you know with plenty of love to share… and sweets galore.

Saddle up missy! We’ve got a trail to blaze!

Love yous.

Diane

I have never had a problem using my words. I’ve always been quite the expressive girl. Two words come to mind:  Drama Queen. It’s not my fault really. I love words and was raised by a very colorful father who was quick with a joke (still is today!) or quip, or cuss word to sum up every situation. Being the third child I was squeaky and learned early on that class clown wasn’t a bad thing. Whether they were laughing at me or laughing with me didn’t really matter to me. Due to my sensitive nature, most times it felt like they were laughing at me… well hell, I was laughing at me. But so what? They were laughing and I have always enjoyed the laughter of folks and also watching people eat. I was born to please people. Yep. I am a people pleaser. There. I said it. Now I’ll get over it.

It would seem that the best way to deal with this hoarding of words buried so deep inside my soul is to expel them. You know, vomit. Puke them out… and in no certain order with no rhyme or reason according to my husband. My being a little ADHD, he sometimes has a hard time keeping my attention. I am so taken with flying things, shiny things, smells, leaves, feathers, bugs, clouds and sounds. I can scarce take it all in and so it creates these words that arrive with each emotion or senses overfilled.

Only recently have I found that you can attach ‘feeling words’ to such inner activities. Like hunger, anger, frustration, joy, sadness. I guess that’s called maturation– rather than just acting on these feelings being provoked by my surroundings. But I like acting. And it gets the laughs as well.

We went and saw Rocketman last night. It is a movie/biography of Elton John’s life. I never knew. I am flabbergasted. I found it to be quite raw and quite sad. There are many parallels into all of our lives if we choose to be honest. How can one person be so exploited right before our very eyes for so long and that we would not be privy to his pain. I have ever enjoyed Sir Elton John’s music and taken it into very deep places on my journey. I have the utmost respect for this man and I hope the rest of his life and that of his family can be lived in peace and great love.

The interesting part of yesterdays activities was that I took the day off from baking to go to a local songwriters festival in a nearby town. There were great songwriters there from Nashville and this was to be their masterclass for ten of us. I had signed up and paid my money to get schooled. And boy did I get schooled!  I thought it would be in the construction of lyrics and chord progressions, not in the ways of my unsteady heart. I honestly think I am too old to be learning such huge life lessons but apparently not. The questions were posed:  What are you goals? Why are you here? Where are you going with this? What will you do next? What can we help you with? Any questions? Why yes, I have questions now. But I do not think you are as equipped as my therapist to answer them.

YIKES!! I was only prepared to go and have some fun and soak in the presence of others within my craft. Scalded (perhaps too harsh a word) was more like it. I got soap splashed  in my eyes and wondered why I drove home crying. Really? I am too old for this shit! (Use your words, Diane. I thought that’s what I was doing!) Hopefully,  you also have these meaningful conversations with yourself.

I cannot put into words, even after a night’s sleep, what was all mixed up in a day of trying to sum up my life’s musical pursuits and exhaustedly watching Elton in his musical pursuits trying  to kill himself– twice in the course of two hours. (Don’t worry.  I’m not comparing myself to Elton John. I don’t hold a candle in the wind next to that guy!) Obviously he lives… not to spoil the end of the movie for you, but talk about emotions and shiny things, feelings and flying things, bows and flows and angel hair and ice cream castles in the air. My mind is still reeling trying to find my footing again. Songs, songwriters, fame, fortune, unfortune, Bernie Taupin, Hollywood, The Trubadour, Nashville, name dropping, striving, looking for love in all the wrong places, Blake, Justin, Miley, Honky Tonk, get back honky cat…

Then Construction Man, not to be confused with Rocketman, has three simple words to sum up my musical career.  Ready? Here it comes…

ENJOY THE GIFT

Let me reiterate:  ENJOY THE GIFT

What? He goes on to further explain that upon hearing me sing my songs and clumsily play my guitar (clumsy is my word–not his) he knew we were connected for life. That is what drew him to me. The magical peace in my talents that put his mind at ease and gave him rest inside.

Since that time and over the course of 40+ years, I have played and sang to many folks. Namely my children in utero and onward, encouraging them to play guitar, piano and sing out loud! Nowadays I play to an audience of one. Well two. God and Grace. My baby granddaughter… another gift and not only in name. She loves to hear gramma sing and watches my hands carefully as I bang away on the ole, cracked, resonant Guild. It’s a privilege to introduce her to Carole King, John Foggerty, Hillsong, Matt Maher, Janis Joplin, Jesus Christ and Bob Seger, to mention a few. I include the King of kings in this list because He was numbered with the trangressors elsewhere, and because He is music… and He writes the songs! Sorry Mr. Manilow. (You should trying being inside of my mind…)

Anywho. Bless those around you because you can and you already do. Stand strong and tall. You are right where you are supposed to be. Live, dear friends. Live life. Laugh, love, cry, fail and get right back up to live another day. You are not alone. We are all in this together. One big traveling show…

Now, I have a huge bowl of Cranberry Walnut bread dough risen and ready for scaling. Then it’s off to the oven where it will fulfill it’s duty baking to a crusty, tender, flavorful loaf of yeasty goodness! Don’t forget the butter.

Saddle up, missy! We got a trail to blaze.

Love you.

Diane