Enjoying life's adventures in a secluded mountain cabin

Have you ever thought about your own personal comfort level with various people?  Some people don’t like to be touched, some have never met a stranger and hug everyone they come in contact with.  Me, I fall somewhere in the middle but I tend to lean toward being a hugger.  Especially if I’m being introduced to extended family or close friends of family.  However, there are certain people who I don’t hug.  In fact, there are some out there that I don’t even want to be within arms length of, let alone touch.

I don’t trust very many people in this world and if I don’t know you, you can bet that I don’t trust you.  Sometimes, I trust you even less after I get to know you.  The thing that I just don’t understand and simply cannot wrap my mind around is the fact that there are some people out there who trust people way too much.  They believe that people will more often than not make the right decision and do good.  They believe in second chances and the benefit of the doubt and saving people.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I believe in those things, too.  I’m a self-proclaimed believer in the greater good of mankind and I have perpetual hope, but I also know when to draw the line on that faith, too.  Other people, not so much.  Maybe I’m just paranoid.  Maybe I’m crazy.  Maybe I’m cold-hearted.  I don’t know.  But I know I’m not gonna be the one who’s taken out because I’m too trusting or because I’m not paying attention to what’s going on around me.

I’m still gonna love with all my heart and believe with every fiber in my being in those certain people who I have that perpetual faith in, but my comfort level with the rest of the world will probably remain on high alert.

So, I’m curious.  What’s your comfort level?



Big Plans

Tonight, Mountain Man and I are going to kick back and enjoy a movie together.  In fact, he’s waiting on me at this very moment.  As much as I love writing and pondering on the day’s thoughts and events, I love spending time with one of my favorite guys on earth more.  Tomorrow will be another day and the words will pour out of me like water from a fount.  I’m sure of it!

G’night all!

It’s Monday!

It started when my feet hit the floor this morning at fifteen ’till six.  Have I mentioned how much I detest waking up before six am?  This morning was no different when it comes to my belief that no human being should be required to be up and at ’em before six o’clock in the morning, but something was just… off.  

I couldn’t find my socks that were laying in the floor right beside the bed where I left ’em the night before.  Then, I fumbled around ’till I found my pj bottoms on the trunk, at which time I nearly fell flat on my face trying to get my still dead to the world asleep limbs to cooperate with me.  After I finally made my way to the bathroom, from there it just got worse.  I sounded like a bull in a china shop.

I dropped my toothbrush into the sink.  Then my pj’s got caught on the cabinet door, which led me to slam it shut trying to free myself from some unseen force that just would not let me go, no matter how hard I tried.  I ended up spraying myself right smack in the face while trying to douse my hair in the shower.  Mind you, I wasn’t taking a shower.  I did that the night before.  I was just trying to wet my hair and somehow confused the location of my hair with the exact spot where my eyeballs just happened to be waiting, wide open, for the icy blast of cold water from the shower head.  Of course, I didn’t wait for the water to heat up.  That would’ve been the smart thing to do.  I was still asleep and didn’t have sense enough to find my socks, let alone wait the extra 23 seconds it takes for the hot water to flow through the pipes.

I’d like to tell you that my day got better after my lovely “shower”, but I can’t.  I dropped nearly everything I picked up out in the kitchen while I was preparing mine and Mountain Man’s lunch and getting our coffee ready.  I “lost” my shoes just before it was time to head out the door.  Wanna take a stab at where I found ’em?  That’s right!  In the exact same spot they’ve been every morning since I started working a little over four weeks ago.

I wish I could say that after I got to work that my day became sunshine and rainbows to make up for the fiasco of the early morning shenanigans, but… it didn’t.  I got to work on time and made it through security ok, but once I actually got in my office, that’s when the real fun of a Monday began for me.  My computer was locked and lo and behold to me, I didn’t have the right password.  The dang thing was requesting a password that I’d never been given or prompted to create.  I was dumbfounded.  I typed in every single set of numbers and symbols I had been issued and all the ones I’d made up and not one of ’em unlocked that blasted computer!  So, there I sat… at the mercy of a machine… ’till the gal who’s training me showed up and called someone in the IT department to explain this cruel joke to me, the “new girl”.  Have I mentioned how bad I hate being the “new girl”?  That title means you don’t yet know everything you need to know in order to do your job without aggravating other’s in your office to help you with various tasks multiple times in a day.  Aaarrrgggghhhhhhh!

Turns out, I wasn’t the only one having a Monday.  The gal that’s training me was having one, too!  So there we were, the more experienced trainer, and the “new girl”, both facing little problems and obstacles all day long.  We both got frustrated and we both ended up laughing hysterically at the cards we’d been dealt on this lovely Monday, but we made it through.  Somehow, we made it.

My Monday finally looked up and things changed for the better once I laid eyes on my Mountain Man at the end of my day.  Just the sight of him always brings a smile to my face and a song that only I can hear in my heart.  It doesn’t  matter how many socks I lose, or how many clothes mishaps lie ahead, or how many near death experiences I have in the shower, or how many more days of being completely locked out of my work computer, or any other crap that a Monday throws at me.  As long as I get to go home with Mountain Man at the end of the day, none of that other stuff matters.

Our Respective Corners

Everyone has stuff in their life that means something special to them.  An object in your home.  A picture hanging on your wall.  A favorite pillow.  A warm, cozy throw.  A coffee cup that always brings a smile to your face whenever you reach for it in the morning.   Your favorite writing pen.  A familiar scent that permeates your home.  Your favorite pair of slippers.  Things in life that make us feel comfortable.  Certain little rituals that make our days feel rich and welcoming and our nights feel safe and comfortable.

Some of my most favorite things in this world either didn’t cost me a single penny or were very cheap.  One such thing is the comfort level that exists between Mountain Man and myself.  In our cabin, we each have our “spots”.  He has his big comfy chair and I have my corner of the couch.  Each of us has our little spot well equipped with things we might need while relaxing.  Writing utensils and paper for jotting down ideas, thoughts, recipes, or “to do” lists, the weather station, chap stick, our guns, a small flashlight, ammo, a tiny turtle carved from soap stone and a tiny plastic dinosaur, reading materials, tissue, and the trusty old computer is always beside one of us.  Occasionally, other items will find their way into our little corners of the cabin, but for the most part, the items listed above are staples that are always nearby.

We have been known to share each other’s space from time to time and we will completely swap sides on occasion, too.  But we always end up back in our respective spots in the house.  And I’m not real sure I’d have it any other way.  Well, there is this set of matching his and hers recliners that I’ve envisioned in my head, strategically placed in front of a big screen tv, with a common table between us and a smaller one on either side of us for all of our individual things.  Talk about the ultimate Sunday football experience!!!



Missing Pieces

Today has been a little difficult.  Difficult might actually be an understatement at this point.  Today, I’ve found myself missing my two boys, so much so that it’s been difficult to breathe at times.  Looking around, I’ve seen different, random things that have reminded me of them.  More accurately, it’s reminded me of their absence and I’ve longed for the little moments that some Mother’s, including myself, take for granted.

I can remember times when they were little and I was a stay at home Mom, struggling to keep it together and teach them right from wrong, and they would sometimes drive me crazy fighting with each other.  Sometimes to the point that I just wanted to run away from home.  At the time, I can remember being so frustrated.  Now, I just wish they were both here to aggravate me.

I used to daydream about the day when they would both be grown and I could finally enjoy myself in ways that a young Mother raising two boys simply could not do.  Now that I have that time on my hands, albeit early, it’s just not the same as I envisioned all those years ago when I was planning my days post Motherhood.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I don’t live an unfulfilled life and I don’t walk around depressed all the time.  I have Mountain Man, who I know loves me very much and I have other family and friends who fill my life with joy and happiness.  But any Mother out there knows the heartache that only a child can bring.  Any Mother knows all about those missing pieces once they’re gone.

Right now, I wish I could hear my oldest son playing his guitar too loud and calling me “Momsie” like only he can.  I wish my youngest was sitting beside me on the couch, securely attached to my hip, where he had always been his entire life.  I wish I was having a very deep conversation with my oldest about some artist or musician.  I wish my youngest was asking me for cooking tips and advice and trying to emulate the chefs on Food Network.  I wish I could tuck them both in again like I used to do when they were little.  I wish I could hold my youngest in my arms and sing him to sleep or lay on a bed with my oldest on my chest as a newborn and gently rock him to sleep with my foot swaying just enough to make my whole body rock.

I wish…

I wish so bad that I could go back in time sometimes and just relive some of those little moments that I hold so dearly.

I guess right now, more than anything, my wish is that they know, that they remember, how much I love each one of them.  I hope and pray that they know in their hear of hearts just how much their Mama loves them.


It’s finally here.  The end of the work week and the beginning of the weekend.  Friday has finally arrived and this Mountain Girl couldn’t be happier!  Friday’s mean that the work week is over and the relaxed, laid back weekend is upon us.  It’s time for home-cooked breakfasts, all day spent in my jammies, lazin’ about the house and enjoying being with my Mountain Man.  It’s a time for renewal to begin.  A day reserved for a happiness that no Monday will ever know.  Well, unless that Monday happens to be a Monday in your vacation spent on the beach somewhere and in that case, days don’t really matter anymore.  The only days that matter while one is on vacation are the ones counting down to one’s departure and the day one has to go back home, which, funnily enough, is usually a good day, too because one is usually excited about getting back home after being away no matter how magnificent one’s vacation destination is.

Anyway, I’m glad it’s Friday!


This is my ode to Bacardi Superior Rum.

Oh, Bacardi Rum!  How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.

Bacardi helps me to unwind and relax at the end of a long day.

Bacardi helps me to find my happy place.

Bacardi makes it all better.

Bacardi goes well with any salty snack.

Bacardi + football = a good afternoon.

Bacardi + NASCAR = a good afternoon.

Bacardi + a campfire = a good evening.

Bacardi + good friends + good food = a real good time.

Bacardi at the end of my day, with the love of my Mountain Man, in the confines of the cabin, in my little Mountain cocoon, always makes for a heck of an ending to any day.   Good or bad.

I luuuuuuuuves me some Bacardi.



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