It is cold and snowy here in CO! Warm feet are essential.

I bought myself these slippers for Christmas and my toasty, arch supported feet are cute and thrilled.

My tootsies with the shadow of our Christmas tree, still standing on January 6th, is Day 6 delight.

May we all have warm appendages…..and arch support.

Not only am I delighted to share this post by my lovely and talented friend, Corey. I am delighted that she is my lovely and talented friend.

Wanna a share a delight? Send me a note 🙂

Here’s Corey!

Positive Self Talk

By Corey Radman

“Where should we put this rotisserie chicken?” I asked Ringo as I put the groceries away. He wagged his tail at me like he had a few ideas to contribute to the discussion. Overruling the canine, I said, “Let’s put this in the way back of the fridge…”

I looked up to see my husband standing in the kitchen with a look that said, Should I make fun of you, or should I make an appointment for you? “Who are you talking to?”

“The dog,” I said, a silly grin creeping across my face. My eyes slid to the side. We both knew I’d be chatting aloud even if I was utterly alone.

So, sue me. I talk to myself. Aloud. I’ve always been this way. As a child, I spoke quietly to Laura, my imaginary companion fresh from her little house on the prairie. “This is a telephone,” I’d explain. “You press the buttons, and it connects you to other people far away!”

I quashed the instinct once I realized it made me “weird.” I spent several decades appearing to pass for normal, but then I started working from home as a writer, and well, the words escaped my shower diatribes and splashed into the living room, into the car, out onto the sidewalk where maybe I’m talking to Ringo, maybe not.

Sometimes I’m practicing a conversation I might have or rehashing one I wish had been wittier. I’ve also found if I talk about the item I’m looking for, I won’t forget between rooms, which is how I got to be walking through the house one day, wondering aloud, “Where are my marbles? I can’t find my marbles!”

Some writing gets talked out first, as well… this essay for example. (So meta.) I’ve gotten to the point where I have to think this way; I don’t really know what my opinion is until I’ve heard it aloud. Often, I’m just spitballing until the truth of a matter comes out of my mouth, and it settles into my gut like warm risotto.

At age 47, I no longer care if my spouse or neighbors think I’m nuts. I’m great company. I crack myself up a lot. Not giving a fuck is delightful. Turning into that dotty lady who talks to her dog is absolutely priceless.

Today was a non-descript day but you know what was fun?

Determining what would be my main cause of delight……

Was it my new slippers?

Was it the joy in delivering meals to friends?

Was it listening to Eddie Vedder?

There was no winner. Only thinking through the day what elicits delights.

Today was a day.

Today was a day filled with more news of those who lost houses.

Today we said goodbye to a good man- we watched the service via Facebook Live due to COVID outbreaks.

But today as I absently took out the trash, I was greeted with cold Winter air and this clear sky above.

The simple, unexpected beauty took my breath away.

And that’s the thing about Delights. It’s not day or a time. Delights are fleeting moments of Joy right before our eyes…..begging our attention, wanting to be noticed.

If only for a brief moment while taking out the trash.

Happy Day Three.

I think many people come to this area in search of beauty- in search of connecting their soul to something a bit more wild.

My own healing weaves heart-pumping climbs up Flagstaff mountain to look over the front range. As I stand on top of summits, stinky and sweaty, I always think in gratitude how extremely lucky I am to live in such a place; to summit such beauty in the morning, indulge in a breakfast burrito and be at my desk at 8:30…..okay maybe 9:00.

And the majesty of the view extends to the beauty of this community. My social media channels are full of friends reaching out to others with GoFundMe links- supporting so many who have lost. Donation centers are posting that they have so much- they are asking people to spread the word to let those impacted by the fire that they have supplies and would love to distribute to those who need them.

Therefore, my second Delight of the Year is this amazing, compassionate, generous community. How lucky am I to not only live in this place but live here with you.

Christmas night I sat with family and friends and we talked about bidding adieu to 2021- a year of false starts, unmet expectations and uncertainty.

“I never like to hold a grudge on a year,” my friend Heather said, “365 days lead to good things and bad things. No year is ever, truly 100% bad, is it?”

I fully agree! As a person who does not like sadness, my religion is finding the not sadness 🙂

I say this having just come off an ugly cry phone call with a friend- a dear friend whose SIL lost her home in the Marshall Fire.

This time is heavy. F*ck this time is heavy.

I was speaking to another friend today, “It is in my person to feel the feels, but Ginger….I’m tired of feeling the feels! We need a break. How much can we absorb?”

I am not a bounty paper towel.

And we are fine. Just like any other time of crisis in the last two years……we have heat, we have water, we have each other. We are fine.

But winds raged in our part of town on December 30th- 110 mile winds ripped power lines. Broken power lines hit dry grasses that have not seen rain in over four months. Dry grasses made explosive kindling. Kindling made hot embers. Embers flew through the sky in 110 mile winds…..hitting other trees, barns, homes……so many homes.

And suddenly my beautiful part of the world was on fire- extreme, intense, firestorm, fire. As pre-evac warnings were issued, my brother’s family stared to pack their van. My nephews packed their nerf guns from Santa. When you are five and told to pack a bag of important items, screw the toothbrush, get the nerf guns.

I write this knowing how fortunate they were to consider what to pack- thousands of other families grabbed their loves and left with hope and a prayer.

And now we sit in the new year in this charred land- a land that we love. A land that we hike, bike and live in. Where do we find hope in this promised new year? How do we say goodbye to a year of conflict, heartbreak and loss?

Well, I just don’t know.

And because I just don’t know, I had to write down my top ten list of gratitudes for 2021: Things are quite crappy but what makes us happy 2021 list:

• I turned 50! I thank the universe for 50 years in this beautiful life
• I celebrated my ALL my parents’ birthdays- my goodness- so grateful to be so parented
• I got vaccinated- YAY Science!
• I skied with my dad- at 71, he’s a ripper
• I watched my niece graduate from Cornell
• I raised another $100,000 for mitochondrial research
• I rubbed my Granny’s feet
• Hawaii with my Hubs
• Weekends with beautiful friends- you are oxygen to my soul
• Holidays with my Tribe

Another year- a year of life with you lovely humans.

AND because no good deed goes unpunished- no awesome event is without numerous failures…..I feel we must try for another 365 days of delight.

Last year I made it to February. Lets try for March! Check out tomorrow for day two of Delights.

Delight Day One: I delight in my Tribe. Those who offer no solution, only communion, harmony and trust. Lets move together in this New Year. Let’s pause to Feel the Feels, knowing we are human complex beings.

It won’t always be good.

It won’t always be bad.

It will be.

And I will be with you.

Today I deleted my Miracles for Mito auto signature from my Google account.

And I wondered, “will I ever be an Executive Director again?”

And then I wondered if I wanted to be an Executive Director again.

Many have reached out to me as we have closed Miracles for Mito, asking if I am okay. Some have noticed a change in my tone, perhaps an underlying touch of sadness.

Ugh. I hate sadness. Sadness sucks. I am much better at happy.

And I appreciate those who have called me out on my tone. Yes, I have sugar coated this transition a bit. Yes, my heart is bruised a bit.

Ironic isn’t it? I have posted here when Hubs and I have gone through tough times, chatted about my inmate journey with grief, cried like a baby with you when we moved out of our old house, but I have diverted this very important, painful decision…..nothing to see here….nothing to see.….keep moving on….

I wonder if I will ever be so passionate about a cause again. I know the answer is no and I know that’s okay. Nothing is stronger than Mama love coupled with grief and the desire, no……the NEED to change the world.

I still have a little ember burning in my belly but it’s not enough to burn the house down.

I have learned that this rare disease space is hard. Family support is hard and a huge trigger for my own trauma. We are all fighting to tell our stories. It is in our stories that our kiddos live on. In our stories that their legacy prevails. As a result, we are driven by broken hearts. Collaboration is hard. We all want to be the hero in advocating for a horrible, rare disease that has no good outcome and crappy federal funding.

I do not regret my decision. I am excited to see how we can rally around my brother and move the needle on mitochondrial research in a local capacity. But I do believe you can live in a place of certainty and heartache; knowing that your heart will heal and trust the certainty of your decision.

And as thoughts come during the winter solstice, during our darkest days, it is time for me to trust what I cannot see next- feeling, touching, reaching out for this next truth.

Many of close the year with bruised hearts. May the certainty of our decisions carry us to our next light. May the light in me honor the light in you.

And yes, hard feelings are still hard.

On Sunday I made a pie. It was a good pie, a pretty pie. A pie so pretty I felt the need to post my pie prowess on Facebook.

Who am I kidding, I post everything on Facebook but I did like this pie.

And a couple people responded with pie crust angst- people who I admire, smart people who I respect…alas, the saying easy as pie is just untrue. Pie, like everything else can be difficult.

I too once had pie crust angst…..therefore I am posting a post about food.

Don’t let me get into this habit. It’s so easy to talk about food. Almost…..as easy as pie.

So here folks, is my story about the butter crust.

I did not grow up on butter. As a child of the 70’s, food was not edible unless it was processed. Margarine, American Cheese, Cool Whip……butter was evil and fattening…..pass the Velveeta, Miracle Whip and Wonder Bread.

Time in Germany and marrying a man with Danish heritage has taught me one thing….

Butter is love.

The amount of butter we consume is somewhat staggering.

Last weekend we entertained. The conversation went somewhat like this……

“The crust on this filet is great. What did you do?”

“Sautéed them in butter.”

“These onions are amazing. How did you get them to caramelize like this?”

“Butter.”

“Blistered greens beans?”

“Yeah…butter. Would you like some more wine?”

So back to the pie.

Butter.

I too was daunted by a non-processed, whole butter pie crust.

But you can do this. Lets start with some basics…..

Number One:

This is a pastry cutter.

You need this. It’s like four forks on steroids’. You need this to break up the butter in the amazing butter crust. Some say a Cuisinart will mix the same. I say no! Seriously, I think too much air gets in the crust with a Cuisinart. Get your arms in there with a pastry cutter- remember this is love.

How can you celebrate a holiday if you can’t tell your family how sore you are from making pie dough?

On another note…..I was going to take my pastry cutter to Virginia for Thanksgiving but I think TSA might confiscate it as a weapon.

Thought Number Two: Vodka vs. Ice Water

What the whaaaaaaa? Yes, I can mix alcohol into any conversation. There are many recipes that use cold vodka instead of ice water to mix the crust.

My thought– Sigh, no vodka. I know, it breaks my heart to say so but I think vodka makes the crust too dry. Granted, I live in Colorado and we haven’t seen moisture in like 3,421 days…..so go with what works.

Thought Number Three: Plastic Wrap

Who promotes plastic wrap for anything? Yes……the evil of all globally minded citizens but trust me…..take that chilled ball of dough and roll it between two sheets of plastic wrap. Forget the flour- go straight to plastic wrap. The crust rolls out beautifully and slides right into the pie pan.

Cold butter, cold (ice) water, pastry cutter, plastic wrap and a sense of ‘hey y’all…… I’m making you a pie. It might not be the best pie but it’s a butter crusted pie. Because I love you.’

Love goes a long way….almost as long as butter.

And because I get ALL of my sources from The Google…..here is the recipe I use. Go forth with love and butter. One more note- I use salted butter and do not add the extra salt….. really…..unsalted butter should be banned from civilized society.

And Happy Thanksgiving Dear Tribe. I am grateful for you all.

ALL-BUTTER PIE CRUST

INGREDIENTS

• 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup unsalted butter (cold, cut into small cubes)
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• ½ cup cold water (plus one ice cube)
• 2 teaspoons vinegar

INSTRUCTIONS

• Prepare the water/vinegar mixture. Drop an ice-cube into a measuring cup and fill the measuring cup up with water to the ½ cup mark. Add 2 teaspoons of white vinegar and set aside.
• Mix Flour and Butter. Combine the dry ingredients together in a medium sized bowl and toss with a fork to mix evenly. Use a pastry cutter to cut the butter into the flour until the mixture forms large, coarse crumbs.
• Add Water. Pour the water mixture, a few tablespoons at a time, into the flour/butter mixture and toss with a fork until the dough is evenly moist. Add water slowly to get the right texture.
• Gather the dough. Use your hands to quickly bring the dough together in the bowl. Do not over work the dough.
• Divide and Chill. Divide the dough in half and flatten into disks. Wrap the disks separately in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour.
• Bake according to what your pie recipe calls for.

July 25, 2010, I sat on a gurney in the middle of Littleton Hospital. I had wiped a series of endless tears, knees curled up, police milling around, nurses giving me sad, uncomfortable looks……I was desperately searching for meaning in my life.

We had just lost our girl.

I took a wadded, snotty Kleenex in one hand and held my Aunt Tracy’s palm in the other, “I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life.”

She squeezed my snotty hand back, “You will find it.”

I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t so sure at all.

Somewhere along the twisted, half-blind trail of grief, we started a memorial fund for Samantha. I stared at the $8,000 we had raised and wondered the next step. What to do with this money? Donate to Children’s Hospital? Give to the United Mitochondrial Disease Foundation? Take the money and run? Mexico is nice this time of year……

Instead, my dad and I filled out an application with the Colorado Non-Profit Development Center (CNDC), with the goal to become a nonprofit supporting families impacted by mitochondrial disease in Colorado.

We thought about a name……I wanted a name that was agnostic to my grief, a name that was not about me or my family, I wanted a name that everyone could relate to…..and Miracles for Mito was born.

In the spirit of strength- because no one should walk this journey alone.

The CNDC accepted our application and we started with the $8,000 from Samantha’s Memorial Fund. My friend Laura helped to create our beautiful logo. I cried in a Walmart parking lot as I reviewed the butterfly composed of two hearts with the intricate mitochondria connecting the wings. It was perfect.

It was love. It was my heart. It was my grief, my soul.

Eleven years later, it is with bittersweet feelings that I write this post. Eleven years later, I announce to this sacred tribe that we are dissolving Miracles for Mito as a nonprofit.

I want you to know that eleven years later, my heart and mind have settled into this decision. I will always walk away with apprehension, wondering what more we could have done, the difference that could have been made.

I also want you to know that eleven years later, I am okay to move on from this space. I need to move on from this space. That eleven years later, the half blind, grievous person has given herself permission to do something else with her life.

Sometimes movement is a gift.

What will we do next? Stay tuned. I will not sway far. I will continue to climb mountains and ask you for money in the sake of mitochondrial research and my dear family……it will just look a little different.

Elven years ago I was shattered. Eleven years ago you supported my cause…lets move forward in the spirit of strength…..and I thank you for never letting me walk this journey alone.

Let’s find out what’s next.