Faith can move mountains, right?

Well, if that’s the case… then faith can lift your house right on up off the ground too, right?

Sure. Yeah, right. I guess so. Whatever you say…

But no joke guys, I think, and believe, it can. Faith can do it all. Faith can move anything. Including your house.

Faith has all the power. Faith holds all the cards. Faith can allow one to complete seemingly impossible undertakings, and surpass insurmountable feats.

And what were these past two years... if not - one big, gigantic feat?

Looking back, boy, what a time to be alive...

If there’s one way to express my feelings on these past two years, it is this:


In order to persevere...  I must have a Foundation of Faith. 

And that foundation, even though it might be floating up in the sky(?) is what has kept me grounded, and sane, during life’s tough challenges.

Would it make any sense to you if I told you right now that I am living my very best life? Literally - right now. Every single day.

Throughout this pandemic. Throughout the ups and downs of the coronavirus, the surges and down dips in deaths and hospitalizations and body counts. Throughout global strife, this year, and last. International relations at their very worst in my lifetime. National relations also-the same.

Despite everything that has happened, and everything that is going on, and maybe even everything that is still to come. I am still living my very best life, each and every day. And I attribute that fact to one reason, and one reason only - my faith.

And there’s no doubt that this year, and last, have presented some very difficult circumstances, both externally, and internally. Personally, and professionally. Nationally and internationally.

There are actually far too many of said circumstances and challenges to name here, and nor do I want to name them, each and all. But these challenges and obstacles and pure blockades, were, and are, beyond overwhelming. And I blow my own damn mind each and every day with my ability to maneuver around them.

It took me a very long while, but I have come to believe, and actually understand and comprehend, that a solid foundation is exactly what is needed during life's hardest and harshest moments. And it is that foundation of faith, and my faith alone, that gets me through each day. 

That statement is so very true for me and I genuinely believe it. And in my eyes, it is simply and purely because when things get tough, and when things are looking down, and when you find yourself falling into a deep and dark and despairingly black hole, you actually can’t fall too far… IF you have a solid foundation. Because on your way down, you’ll reach the concrete floor of your home’s foundational base. And it’s that foundation that will catch you, and stop you, from burrowing further into the cold and dark earth underneath, during your time of depression or sorrow - a time of sadness, and pain.

And whether, when I lived up in Illinois, and my home’s foundation was literally below ground, in a basement. Or, now that I live in Florida, and the ground here is too wet and springy and bubbly and swampy for my foundation to be below ground, and thus a basement here being very hard to come by... The foundation of my house is currently at grade. But either way, I still have a foundation. Its depth is just a bit different than I was used to all my life, previous to living in the South.

And that little engineering and structural design and home construction fact got me to thinking...

There were moments this year in which I could barely function. I could barely move forward. And I could barely even drink water.

There were times I couldn’t even swallow. Not even coffee.

There were equally bad times last year. I’m still not over it all. Nor will I ever forget all that has happened and occurred on my watch.

Life is hard.

And it always will be.

But our responses, and reactions, and perseverance, and - our foundation - of our very faith in God, is what will carry us forward. 

And UP.

​

And whether I stand up on my very own, or God has to drag me by my soft and fuzzy dog paw patterned fleece pajamas on out of bed, pull me up onto my feet, and drag me into the kitchen kicking and screaming to make the morning coffee - either way - I’m going to keep going. Heck, even if God has to lift not just me out of bed, but my whole freaking GD house off the ground, either way, and some way or another, God is going to get me going. And God is going to keep me going.

I tend to think that sometimes he does literally just that. I’m still stuck in bed. And won’t move. God gives me a boost or two. He tells me it's time to get up. It’s time to get ready for work. It’s time to go, CHRISTINE!

And when I still won’t move, and can’t even comprehend starting another day of life, that’s when God offers one more bribe. He tells me we can grab some Starbucks on the way to work. A venti hot latte, coming my way… if only, I will start another day.

And when THAT doesn’t work - you know I’m in a bad place. I’ve never met a Starbucks I can resist. 

So it is then that God knows I am in the depths of despair (as Anne Shirley of Green Gables once said).

When a coffee bribe won’t work.

That’s when God really has his work cut out for him.

He knows that his Christine Pieper is doing pretty bad. Turning down a drink from her favorite barista. That’s the measurement of true despair.

He then says, the freaking heck with this.

And He, instead of dragging me out of bed by my feet, decides something stronger is necessary to get me going. He knows pulling me, myself, won’t do it just today.

So He decides to pick up my entire house - by its foundation. He rips it on out of the ground. And He carries me, and lifts me with helium and colored balloons, house included, over to my place of employment. I’m dropped off in the parking lot, with a smack on my butt for my misbehavior at that.

Funny thing…

I walk on into work…

Dragging these ridiculous looking balloons behind me.

?

I punch the time clock.

Coworkers completely disturbed by all the helium floating along beside me.

And I start my workday. In utter and pure protest. Disgust at the thought of surviving yet another shift. Is this what success looks like?

​

I absolutely LOVE my work...

But I can hardly move a muscle or bone inside my body.

I always thought that having a solid foundation was imperative to success and achievement. Whether that achievement being going for the Olympic Gold, or dragging your sad and sorry behind out of bed in the morning and brushing your teeth. I’ve discussed with you many times before about that solid foundation and how imperative it truly is.

And that foundation is a rock. It’s solid. It has to be. And the other requirement, or so I thought, was that it has to be deep. And it has to be so strong as to compete with and support the weight of the world and Earth’s rotational axis and gravity itself to keep it from drifting away into the abyss.

​

But - maybe, just maybe - I have been thinking all wrong, this entire time. About that said foundation.

I’ve done a lot this year. And last. All throughout COVID. I’ve accomplished more than I ever dreamed or could possibly imagine doing. All through challenge and hardship. And all because of my light and airy and flowing Foundation of Faith.

I let God do the work for me. I watched as my foundation of faith was set free from the ground. No longer locked deep into the basement up in Illinois; unglued from its at-grade base here in Florida.

As I floated around in the sky. All these past two years of Covid. Here and there. Near and Far. Blowing around in the wind. Spinning and dizzy. With delight. Or delirium? Swirling around in the sky.

Up and down.

And upside down.

My foundation was NOT solid and rock heavy as I thought it needed to be. My foundation was light… and airy. It has become so very light that one could stick a helium balloon or two on top of that silly little house… and the whole gosh darn home would lift entirely off the ground. Setting sail on a wild and ridiculous ride. God blowing it in the wind. Only He - controlling the direction of flight.

​

And that’s exactly what the heck happened to me. And I’ve been sitting in a helium balloon filled house, flowing around in the wind, these entire past two years.

I’ve done NOTHING - on my own.

And I’ve done EVERYTHING - through God.

Nearly two years ago now I went back to work. But being without work for roughly a decade, it was a huge decision and obviously a life altering moment in time for me.

As they say... I did not come to the decision lightly. In fact, it was such a big decision, I relied solely on God to help me with the choice I ultimately made.

God guided me in that decision to leave the home. And I have come to know, only through my now vast experience in conversations and coffee dates with God, that my best decisions in life are the ones I make with Him… The ones where we sit and chat over a latte while listening to cafe music in the background. We hear the steam of the espresso machine as it drowns out the voices of others - all in equally important conversation amongst themselves.

And those decisions are potentially made in the blink of an eye. The snap of my finger. With the force of wind going through me so very strong that I nearly vomit. 

One minute - I’m chilling with God at Starbucks.

The very next - I’m at home, curled up into a ball, on the floor of my home. The thought of throwing up too very much to control. Agonizing. Nauseous.

Next minute - I’m in the bathroom - head in front of the toilet.  Awaiting the uncontrollable reaction that I know is coming next.

Would it make any sense to you at all if I told you the very best decisions I have ever made in my life are the ones where I want to vomit at the thought of the choice I need to make? And just after conversing with God on the subject matter?

I did a lot of research, and I prepared myself as best as possible.

How to go back to work after ten years? 

How did I do it? 

Or, after that initial choice, how do I change jobs, or career paths, once again? How to keep going? After starting work, all over, once again? Being in a land, now so foreign to me, I might have well been standing at the South Pole on day one of orientation.

How to rejoin the workforce after so much had been changed in my absence? After all, just think of the technological improvements in the last ten to fifteen years, let alone the societal changes as well.

Where the term “onboarding” is now known to all who work and get hired? What in the heck is an onboard, anyway? And most importantly, is it something I can use for surfing?

I am asked of my pronouns.

She/Her.

And they are proudly displayed upon a bulletin board, or in the employee break room.

I’ve never been asked that in my life. And it’s always at work now where I’m asked. I’ve even been offered buttons to wear. I can proudly display my She, if I choose to.

Do workers today have more protections afforded them? And perks, and shiny, little specks of bling thrown at them to get them in the door, and seem to actually be treated as human beings by their employers? 

When I stopped working, I was not even wanted by my employer at the time. And I do think that was me personally. I’m not saying all employers are not actually wanting of their employees, but I do know I personally, felt extremely unappreciated. 

I was way overworked, way stressed out, had a mere one second of vacation time per year, and was just expected to suck it all up, and work harder and harder. And my salary could not afford me even a studio apartment near my employer. All for what? 

There was no enticement. There was no bonus. A raise at the exact rate of the cost of living adjustment - each year - and that basically meant my pay would stay the same every year of my employment. No real increase in relation to my job and skills and profession. No real raise based upon my performance. My individual circumstances were not ever taken into consideration. 

And I worked hard and harder. 

And ultimately, I ended up getting sick… and sicker...

Until the day I was too sick to work at all.

I lost my job.

Years later - 

I was officially defined as disabled by the federal government.

Disease without cure, that which would ultimately end in death and inability to work for the future of my life on this Earth.

There was no cure to what ailed me. So says my doctors, and the United States of America.

And I had to accept that fact to move on with my life. 

We’ve talked about my journey through chronic pain before, and the purpose of this post is not to re-discuss it here and now. But what is important today is - WHY. And HOW.

Why?


Why did I have the opportunity to go back to work?

Because faith can move mountains?

No.

But kinda.

HOW?

How - Because… faith lifted my very house up off the ground… and took me with it, and threw me into working once again.

I’ve accomplished more in these past five years since God saved my life, and the past two years of work, than probably all my other years of breathing, combined.

And it’s all attributable to my Foundation of Faith.

I was sick. And I was sicker. I was so very sick I did not know how to go on. With life. At all.

I felt 95 years old.

And I was in my 30’s.

I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t brush my teeth. I couldn’t put on some simple clothes and walk out the front door. And I couldn’t interact within society. Because I couldn’t even move. 

My foundation was solid. And heavy. And that’s what I thought was the right kind of foundation to have. 

But, I couldn’t move even if I tried... I was bolted to the floor.

However, little did I know at the time, a miracle was brewing.

Deep down in the underneathness of the earth, the swampy ground, far under where all of the alligators and snakes and cockroaches live, cause - Florida - that foundation began to move.

First it bubbled - like a spring. Disney Springs to be exact.

It bubbled until it shook itself clean off the ground.

And God decided to lift my entire freaking house, foundation included, off that wet ground. And pulled it on up into the sky. Taking me with it. Whether I wanted to go for a ride, or not.

I had no idea what was happening to me…

And.

I had no choice in the matter.

Because God did all the work for me.

And at the worst part of it all is that, I didn’t even know that God was doing all the work. He was hidden, you see, above all the balloons I was looking up at.

So, as I pondered before:

Does any of this make any sense to you?

I have come to believe that if this does not make sense to you… simply close your eyes. And then, let God make the next decision for you and your life. And afterwards, open your eyes back up, and you’ll probably understand what I’m trying to say to you here.

And if this DOES make sense to you right now… Keep on keepin’ on.

Because that rock solid foundation I told you about all along. The one so solid and hard and deeply buried in the wet or cold ground, the one you need for the worst of days, amidst the worst of tropical storms and hurricanes, to keep you afloat… it really doesn’t need to be hard at all. It doesn’t even need to be concrete. Or cinder block. Or brick. It doesn’t need to be huge and firm, like my home's foundation back in Illinois. In fact, it can be at grade. And it can be very thin. It can allow all the snakes and lizards and maybe even gators, to get inside your house. Because it doesn’t matter at all how strong the foundation really is. It only matters that God goes ahead and picks it up, and transports the entire kit and caboodle, you included, where you need to be. And where you are meant to be.

And if you do happen to see any snakes and gators along the route, with the flick of the wrist, God will send them packing.

When I went back to work almost two years ago, little did I know that at that very moment I was sitting in my first job interview, there was a virus circulating in China. One that would spread and engulf the entire globe by its presence. I never believed that by filling out a job application, I would end up having to maneuver around the suffocating evil that was airborne all around me. I just thought I was going back to work. As a person with a disability. As a person that constantly needed to watch out for my own protections in the workplace. Because no one can protect me at work but me. 

Within these past two years, I’ve had many hard, and harsh, and cruel, and disappointing, and exciting, and thrilling decisions to make, or be made, for me since I began working once again. 

I don’t talk about my disability or chronic pain in specifics. And I would never even dream about telling all the people I meet that I’ve met God before. And that He is by my side at this very moment. And He is the reason, and the only reason, that I punched in today, and that I punched out today… with every intention of coming right back tomorrow and doing the same thing all over again.

And I would never expect anyone else, including an employer, to understand any of this even if I did tell them. But I do have a very harsh resume gap. Being nearly 41 years old, and not working for a chunk of my adult life, there are bound to be questions. What in the heck have I been up to? Why do I want to work right now? Why should they hire me, without prior experience/s they may be needing from their employees? 

I can’t answer any of that. And nor do I intend to.

I can Attend though.

And I can perform. And from here on out, my job, and my work, is my choice. I choose what I can and cannot do. I know my limits. And I know the line I will never cross, just to earn money. 

And I’d like to think that today, unlike when I left the workplace many years ago now, it seems employers actually want their employees to grow, and succeed, with them. Maybe it’s now not - What can the employer get out of me? Before dumping me to the side of the road, to fend for myself?

I do believe that employers today understand that workers need to feel like human beings. With differences, and needs, and desires, and personal goals they want out of work. And we all may have different paths to take. And not meant to stay at the same place for 44 years of work life. That inevitably, we will move on. And our journey will change, and we may not be with them as long as they may want from us.

And that all of this is our choice, not theirs. We, the worker, guide the economy. And it’s not the other way around. 

But unfortunately, as I said before, a virus started circulating the globe, as I filled out job applications.

It spread, like wildfire, all unknown to the world, as I sat in job interviews.

There was talk about some silly little respiratory illness, but thousands of miles away, of course, as I began work and my orientation.

I was then being trained by day, and by night, listening to the news of a lockdown in Wuhan. Still so far away and foreign to me. What was there to worry about here? Everything, in fact.

And as I began really working day by day, all of a sudden a toilet paper explosion happened. And by explosion I do mean explosion. 

First, there was a mass run on toilet paper throughout the world.

And the world got weirder… and weirder.

But then the world of humans got even stranger… On the fifteenth day after the initial fifteen days to slow the spread, or, basically on the fifteenth day of the next thirty days to slow the spread, or otherwise known as April 15, 2020… a paper factory in Maine literally blew up.

And...

The stuff of dystopian movies are made of is exactly what these past two years of work throughout covid has been for me.

I’ve had the best job of my entire life - during the pandemic. I’ve had the worst. In these two years I’ve worked more new roles than in all the past twenty combined. 

I’ve trained, practiced, and studied. I’ve taken tests, and been certified, in this, and in that. 

And as the seasonality of the coronavirus and its strange and new variants have come and gone in haste, so too have other duties as assigned and staff and employers and their needs. I’ve gone up and down an endless roller coaster of surge... and wane. Flowing to the East, and back to the West. Up and down. Thrown on up into the sky. And then all the air comes out, deflated, and back into the swampy, snake infested mud I go once again. It’s been the ride of a lifetime. And to add to the strangeness of  working throughout covid… all the while when so many countless others have had the opportunity to stay home the entire time… literally makes all of it all the more surreal. 

I get foggy eyed, real fast.

Rubbing my eyes to make sure I’m seeing straight. This whole experience being indeed confusing, and quite messy.

I constantly find myself brushing the dirt off my feet, and sanitizing the palms of my hands.

I’ve tripped over my own two legs.

And I’ve fallen flat on my back.

And then I get right back up, for another wild ride.

My hands have been dirty. They’ve been greasy. They’ve been cut, black and blue, and swollen and blistered. They’ve handled and touched and transported substances I’ve never imagined I would be holding ever in this life I have upon Earth.

Is any of this really happening?

Or is it all just an endless dream? Or nightmare? And I just can’t wake myself up?

I don’t expect understanding or comprehension of my past, because it’s too confusing to even comprehend or understand myself. But I do expect - of myself - understanding and comprehension of one miraculous concept.

I made the choice to go back to work at the beginning of 2020. I consider myself in a very odd and strange position to be in life.

The cloud of virus storm brewing on the coastal horizon. Heading our way in secret, calm waves, across oceans to the American shores. No place on Earth left untouched. Human Resources Departments changed - forever. 

Bleh.

I’ve been working all throughout the pandemic... With a GD mask on. With orientations cut short. Gloves and PPE. Shortages of everything and anything you can think of. Last year - Not allowed to sit next to my coworkers during lunch. My job has changed. Roles. Duties. People. Policies. 

Hugging someone crying - not allowed. And then, all of us deciding together to hug and embrace anyways, cause covid policy be damned, if someone just lost a loved one, they are going to receive a hug. And I don’t care what CDC ‘guidelines’ have to say about it.

I’ve worked part time, full time, and overtime. I’ve worked strange hours. And I really and especially worked on those infamous other duties as assigned. Because what the heck is covid, if not falling directly under that final bullet point on almost any job description?

As corona surges, my job changed.

As corona wanes, my job changes once again.

Up and down.

Blowing in the wind. I’m thrown all over the place.

Trying desperately to watch my six.

Working for small wages, then more wages, then the best wages I’ve ever earned in my life, then even less wages once again. Phenomenal perks. No perks. Good hours. Bad hours. And some God awful really, really sucky hours.

And forever reminding myself that my work is not my life.

My life is also not my work.

My life is only, and forever will be, my faith.

And it is that delicate line, between my very faith and the exchange of money for labor, which I must always stay true to.

I’ve worked many a strange role, to help myself find where I am suited best, in my new work life. And, even more important to working with disability - My line in the sand has been drawn. I know, firmly, what I can do and will do, and will NOT do, for my employers. And I never once guessed that when I made the decision to work again two years ago, that I would ever even come up against that line itself. I always thought that borderline was so far away, that I never would have to truly worry about brushing up against it. But the awful truth is that - The place I never thought I would have to go - the line I know I will never cross, staying true to my own new life, my convictions, and my very Faith. I'm actually hitting up against that line, Every. Single. Day.

I am tested. And I am trialed. I am pushed to the very limits of my human heart. 

The roller coaster of emotion. And stress. And policy. And drama. Bureaucracy. And life changing experiences. Has anything really changed since I left the workplace years ago? It may very well be worse than it was well over a decade ago… I really don’t know.

And I have no idea where I’ll be thrown to next. 

I’m literally just going with the flow at this point. 

And...

I never could have done all that I’ve done…

Without faith in God.

But most importantly, I never could have done it if God didn’t pick me up, my entire house, foundation included, and thrown me on up into the sky, allowing me to flow in the wind, whichever way He deemed we sail. All the while, bracing myself, upon my Foundation of Faith.~

​

~ Let Me Be Blunt ~

What do you see... that is still the same today? 

What do you see… after nineteen years have flown by?

What do you see… by the dawn's earliest pink light?

What do you see… as we continue our perilous fight?

What do you see… looking down at two holes in the solemn ground?

What do you see… forever searching and maybe still not found?

What do you see… nineteen diligent years later?

What do you see… as you peer into those deep craters?

What do you see… from an airplane’s crash?

What do you see… past all the fire and burned ash?

What do you see… past the smoke and dusty air?

What will you believe… as people begin to not care?

And do you still hear… that valiant band playing through the quiet air?

And will you bear witness… to those fighting still and forever as they must?

As the next round starts...  and we have to keep rolling past all the dust.

What do you see… through twilights shining gleam?

What do you see… past all those forces unseen?

What do you see… through those shining bright stars and breathtaking broad stripes?

What do you see… through the horror of all those bombs bursting this very night?

What do you see… through pollution and the reddest of red blood?

What do you see… as free men - and women - stand here in the mud?

What do you see… past Liberty’s smile?

What do you see… from sea to shining sea all those miles?

What do you see… though concealed fighting to be disclosed?

What do you see… as foe’s strike their continual battle blows?

Do you see there is proof?

That our flag is still there?

Oh Say Darling Can You See… her most beautiful story?

As she stands here - proud… in all of her glory?

Yes - I do.

I do see it all.

Yes even in war’s havoc and confusion and nineteen years later.

I even see Heaven on Earth and God our Creator.

I see that reflection shine above all and very tall.

I see Angels in the sky… And God in our hearts as we bawl.

I see reflection bounced off millions of broken chains.

Forever more - unconfined.

I see all those who paved our very way.

With their very lives - they all gave.

Yes, I see those next pages of her remarkable story be flipped.

As her bright blazen stays now - and forever - lit.

And, I STILL see the land of the freest of free… and know that this is God’s Country home, of the very, very brave. ~

​

Y'all may also want to check out:
​#63) Mercy & Comfort
#6) Nine Eleven: Before & After 

*Part of - Bean’s Coffee Shop Challenge - series

I’m always trying to do something I’ve never done before - to try something new. Whether it be a new recipe in the kitchen, read a book I never thought of reading, drive a different route to get where I’m going, expand my taste buds with a new brand of coffee, or visit somewhere I’ve never been…

Well, in the spirit of that continued search, we finally made it to The Grom… Angie’s Grom, that is.

We had visited Angie’s Subs for the first time a while back - before the plague - and had intentions to then get ourselves on over to The Grom as well, but then everything shut down.

And it only took us some freaking years to finally make it to the most local of local establishments in town here at the beach.

Located at 204 3rd Avenue South in Jacksonville Beach, The Grom describes itself online as a colorful and quirky sandwich joint. They serve breakfast and lunch and coffee and sodas. And on weekends they also have a Sunday Brunch menu.

Over the last few months, #lastsupper might have well been trending every single day.

Because with every conversation I have had with another human being - this meal - this act - was a topic of conversation…

Where was your last dinner out?

What did you order?

Who were you with?

And even - what did you talk about?

Ahh, who were you with??? Before quarantine took us all over.

Were you with the ones you are with right now?

Were you with loved ones you now have not seen in eight weeks?

Separated by an invisible plague.

A plague that is wreaking havoc on civilization itself.

Were you celebrating a special occasion during that final meal? Or was the dinner out nothing special at all?... Just another day, just another outing. Not really having given it a passing thought.

There are lots of meaningful moments in a person’s life. Many moments that, when they are taking place, the person does not know it’s the last time. That’s why the old adage…

Live each day as if it were your last.

OR

You don’t know what you’ve got, till it’s gone.

So, maybe now is the time to ask yourself: Are you living each day? Yes, even during quarantine. Are you fully alive? Each and every single day. Regardless of place? Circumstance? Location? Setting? Situation? Finances? Limitations? Roadblocks? Mystery? Scarcity? Hope? Fear?

I am. And I have been, living, each day.

For three years.

I am fully ALIVE.

Pandemic…

Or no pandemic.

I am alive. And I am living my very best life.

I was fully alive before the world changed, and I am extremely grateful to be fully alive during it. And I’m still completely and 100% alive, as the world awakens, opens up their front doors, and steps off their front porches… many, for the first time, in a very long time.

You see, I was already out there… standing in the street… looking inward, toward humanity, inside their houses. Just waiting for y'all to come on out again. And join me. In life.

Because life - in Florida - means fresh air. While it was winter, and a cold and rainy spring, in many areas of the country, during this horrific shutdown, living in Florida during this plague was an extra special blessing to be from God Himself.

I was able to still walk outside, and get fresh, warm air, every single day. I was able to sit on my balcony, outside, every single day. I was able to literally soak in my vitamin D. The vitamin they keep discussing in the news as being imperative to fight CoVid19.

So, I’m happy to FINALLY see and hear of many other people starting their own venture outward. Yes, even New York is seeing signs of hope and life again. So, as the weather turns warmer, and brighter, in other parts of the world, many others can now also soak in their daily vitamin D. Have their coffee on their balconies. And get outside.

I’m happy to be joined with the sea of humanity as they open their front doors.

Many are afraid.

Many are terrified.

Many are following guidelines, plans, and executive, gubernatorial orders, or newly enacted city ordinances.

And, yes, many are stepping off their front porch steps at the very same time.

So, I’m out here to say to those who are starting out right now...

Hello.

Welcome back.

And -

There’s a life to live out there.

Life is happening - whether we know it or not - whether we like it or not - and whether we want it to or not.

And life is, merely and once again, your reaction, to other actions.

I am showing you my reaction.

People are craving normalcy. People want to socialize. And people want to go out to eat.

Well, we, in Florida, were able to finally do just that.

For the first time in over two months.

We dined out.

We sat outside. We were far away from other humans. And we had a great meal. As we gazed at a gorgeous, waterfront setting.

We traveled down the winding Palm Valley Road toward the bridge.

Nestled and tucked under that large expanse of a hovering bridge is the Palm Valley Outdoors Bar & Grill. Located at 377 South Roscoe Boulevard in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida, the location really is perfect as well.

On a bright and shiny and blue sky day, we arrived at the Grill for a lovely lunch outing.

We planned our outing to go earlier in the day, rather than later. My work schedule has me going to bed early, so we usually end up with a lot of lunches out - instead of dinners.

But considering this was a first meal of sorts, and it was a birthday celebration, both hubby and I were extra excited to arrive - no matter what the time was.

We knew it would take a while. We knew they had just recently opened to the public once again for dine-in service. We were prepared to wait, long.

And all their signage around the building told me another story… That they were open during the worst. That they were doing curbside pick up - and even dock side pick up, for boaters.

I was extra grateful to be a dine-in patron that day.

We had about a one and a half hour wait… They had told us about 35 minutes, it ended up being a lot longer, obviously.

No problem.

We knew what we were getting into by dining at a restaurant just after an official re-opening to the public. In my mind, I treated this outing as the equivalent of visiting a restaurant on their first day of operation - a new business. A restaurant’s first day is always a huge mountain to climb. Always a challenge. And yet, no one seemed to be bothered by the wait. But it’s kinda hard to be bothered with anything at all when this is the setting:

I cut my burger in half, and had the other half for dinner that night - my way of watching calorie intake during that outing.

The steak French fries were from Heaven. Because - again - key word being - fried.

We chose not to have dessert there, as I had special-ordered a few cupcakes from Cinotti’s Bakery to act as the birthday cake dessert, that we would eat at home later that evening.

We thoroughly enjoyed our meal. But the setting was what we especially enjoyed. And it was the action itself of dining out. Leaving the house, driving to a restaurant, reading a menu, and dining amongst others, that was most important to us on that date.

Overall, the Palm Valley Outdoors Bar & Grill was a lovely experience. A great birthday outing. And a fabulous place to try if it happens to be your First Supper as well. The tables are spaced plenty distance apart, and the restaurant is following all the cleaning protocols in place. With employees wearing gloves, and lots of santitzing tables between customers. The setting is more than ideal, with the Intracoastal as a backdrop, and tucked just under and off to the side of the Palm Valley Bridge.

You’ll enjoy the boats coming and going. Paddleboarders going north and south. And you may especially enjoy the countless doggies - sitting on the edge of their owner’s boats. Also taking in all the sights and sounds… and smells… of the salt life, and good food.

It is my sincere hope that for those of you in states where restaurants have also been approved to reopen, just like in Florida, that you use the experience of my First Supper, as a push to get out there yourself. For those still anxiously waiting for your own First Supper. Go ahead and get ready now. Your time is coming. To start your own venture outside. To open your own front door. To step off that front porch. Find yourself an open restaurant. Wait All The Minutes. Get seated. And have a lovely meal. Have your very own First Supper. And, what the heck, maybe even order dessert while you’re at it.

It’s ok to be scared. And by all means, it’s also mostly certainly ok - to be very uncertain. And, just like The Last Supper, it’s ok if you don’t yet know when your First Supper will be. Just keep it in mind. Plan for it. Get it in your head. Because one day, and maybe when you least expect it, it will come to you.

And you can ask yourself - will you be fully alive on that fateful day? Will you be living that day like it’s your last on this Earth? Will you remember the moment - so you know what you’ve got, when it’s gone? And then, finally, who will you be with when that date arrives? ~

Always and forever in the search of the best dessert on the planet - today, I’m bringing you two more ice cream adventures:

Rita’s vs. Whit’s

In a battle of wits… for Bean’s Best @ The Beaches 2020 ~ Ice Cream Edition ~

Remember when it was somebody’s birthday? Ohhhh, so very, very long ago…

Candles would be lit. A song would be sung. And the birthday boy, or birthday girl, would take in a big breath - with their lungs - and blow out all the candles.

And then everybody would clap.

The cake would be sliced. Every piece passed around - a plate of deliciousness for all at the party. Everybody sharing, in an act of celebration. Another person a year older - another piece of cake to commemorate the occasion.

A fork in one hand. A plate of frosted, sugary goodness in the other.

And without giving it a second thought, everyone would bite into their slice of dessert, even though somebody had just previously breathed upon said cake?

Sacrilege!

Those moments are now gone.

But a girl can dream - right?

No one will look at a birthday cake the same way again now.

Because, while we all still may eat the cake, the sentiment just isn’t the same. And while we all still may sing a song… and candles can still be blown out… the world has once again changed.

And I miss that corresponding sentiment.

I miss a whole lot more than just that though.

I miss it all...

I miss coffee shops.

I miss restaurants.

I miss saying, “Table for two.” - Instead of “Two dinners to go, please.”

I miss smiles on unhidden faces.

I miss laughter.

I miss jokes.

I miss friends.

I miss family.

I miss parties.

I miss the library.

I miss fairs, carnivals, rides, cotton candy, and sno cones.

I miss Art Shows, Art Walks, Art Festivals, craft shows, and concerts.

And I still don’t miss nfl football.

I miss my once a year and very boring visit to the Florida Highway Safety and Motor Vehicle Department. Otherwise known as the FLHSMV. In fact, I miss that a whole heck of a lot more than football.

And I missed out on the opportunity to see Hamilton - right here in Jacksonville, back in March. My tickets - sadly, refunded to my credit card.

I miss the smell of a book, just picked up from the library, as I crack open the spine.

I miss handshakes.

I miss milk shakes.

I miss hugs.

I miss kisses on the cheek.

I miss the darn dentist.

I miss joy and good cheer.

I miss good will to all people.

I miss Christmas.

I miss Walt Disney World.

I miss All-You-Can-Eat Buffets.

I miss unlimited scoops of ice cream, from large tubs, on the dessert line of the above-mentioned buffet. Where I can pick up my own cup, take the cold steel scoop, push it with my own hands into the milky cream, releasing chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry into my own cup. My very own ice cream mountain - as high as I want to make it.

I miss simple get togethers - large and small. I miss people’s faces when I communicate with them. I miss the act of meeting up with those fellow humans - in person. In real life.

I miss being able to hear that fellow human being, clearly, when they speak to me - their unmuffled voice carrying into my ears, and the sound of it not being blocked by a cloth mask.

I miss people treating one another as fellow human beings - and not treating others as the walking plague.

I miss closeness.

I miss happiness all around us.

I miss people leaving their house like it was just another day.

I miss life… I miss seeing other people living their lives.

I miss faith over fear.

But just because I miss all these very simple things, doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing them, and living them, myself.

In fact, I’ve been the busiest in my entire life - during the long and drawn out and quite dramatic duration of this entire, never-ending plague.

Regardless of life outside my own front door. I am breathing. I am communicating. I am celebrating. I am being responsible for myself. I am making my own life decisions. I am sucking it up. I am dealing. I am not only surviving. I am proud and happy to be fully alive. I am living.

I am reading. I am planning. I am dreaming. I am pursuing. I am working hard. I am exercising. I am writing. I am painting. I am utilizing this time to become stronger. To learn. To grow. To try new things.

And most importantly, I am persevering.

And I am coming home from work - and I’m stepping right in the shower, washing the invisible and mysterious and confusing plague off me each night.

And, I’ve learned a lot. And I’ve learned what I already always knew - how imperative each breath we take really is.

So let’s all inhale.

Breathe in - In the face of fear.

Exhale - and keep going, my friends. Exhale and continue onward. Exhale and push forward. Exhale and persevere.

And if it happens to be your birthday, go ahead and exhale a big breath straight onto your very own birthday cake candles...

Yes, I know that’s exactly what we will be doing this weekend.

As we celebrate my hubby’s birthday, we will dine out, along the water’s edge, for our First Supper since the plague began. We will sit at tables, amongst other human beings. All partaking in the common and essential act of breathing, and eating.

And I will pick up the special cupcake creations I ordered from Cinotti’s Bakery. And I will slap some candles on top of the frosted red velvety goodness. I will light the flame.

And I will sing “Happy Birthday!”

And my furry baby will probably sing a lot louder than me.

And most importantly, my hubby will then inhale with his own set of two lungs, and exhale hard on top of all the frosting, extinguishing that flame. And then we will eat all the darn sugar. ~

*Have you been to Breezy’s? Have you missed Starbucks as much as I have during this crazy pandemic? I’d love to know. Drop me a comment down below:

Also, for the rest of Bean’s Coffee Shop Challenge - check out the links below:
69] Chaunie’s Coffee Truck
67] Delicious & Delightful Days @ The Delicomb
60] Welcome To Muffin Land ~ The Ugly Cupcake & Muffinry
48] Love & Donuts In The Air @ Beaches For Australia
44] Nothing Finer Than Coffee In The Keys ~ The Coffee Plantation Cafe
39] The Very Official & Quite Serious Donut Debate Of 2020
9] Sago Coffee: A Cup Of Friendly & Flavorful Florida

Plus, if there’s a diner in town - I’ve been there! And if there’s one you think I need to visit - PLEASE - let me know! You can check out my visits to many local area diners, right here:
57] First Watch on the First Coast
50] Sundays Are For Diners ~ Super Diners
40] Visiting The Florida Cracker Kitchen ~ Jacksonville
19] Another Broken Egg Cafe ~ A Taste Of NOLA @ The Beach
16] Beach Diner ~ If You Feed Them They Will Come

Fast forward to today, in 2020, and Peterbrooke STILL has the best chocolate I ever ate. I’m just grateful I live so close to their shop so that I can visit whenever I want.

And recently, with all this stay-at-home madness upending civil society… and with World War 19 causing Civil War 2.0 - chocolate was subtly calling my name. It may have been just a whisper, but it was calling, nonetheless.

Then, with all restaurants still being closed - and take-out, curbside, and delivery being the only way to dine “out” - a chocolatier, to-go sort of shop was out loud screaming my name.

So after work the other day, I decided it was time to take action on the chocolate front of this global war… I’ll call it - Bean’s Battle For Best @ The Beaches.

Either that, or… The Battle Of The Bulge.

Stepping back into this heavenly chocolate shop after a long parting of at least a year or so, I was simply excited that the OPEN sign flashing in the upper right corner window, actually meant that they were really open. Because as more businesses close by the day, that sign doesn’t usually mean much any more.

Walking in, we were met with another sign - the power was out. But, yes, they were open. Come on in.

We were then met with another sign, and a basket of gloves for us to use, per their request. We both put on the gloves.

I spoke with the cashier as we paid. I had just missed Peterbrooke’s biggest holiday of the year: Easter. Because chocolate and bunnies go together perfectly, of course.

I mentioned how glad I was that they were open. She mentioned that they were not even certain how much longer they would be.

I hoped to see them again.

‘Tis the way of today. I suppose.

I would not be telling you the truth if I said there was a better chocolate shop in Jax. They absolutely are the winner. Peterbrooke is more than deserving of Bean’s Battle For Best @ The Beaches - Chocolate - 2020.

The cost is high. And I’m not gonna lie about that either. But there’s a reason. You just can’t buy the best chocolate of your life and not pay the most you’ve ever spent on chocolate.

So, while $27.02 looks high, sounds high, and is - very - high, it was all worth it, my dear friends. And if you go, you’ll probably agree. You’ll take one bite of the best of the best, and the next thought out of your brain will be - When are we coming back for more?

As we said goodbye, we sat in the little blue chairs and table set up outside the front door, for a mere moment. Our last stop and duty before heading home for the night.

It was Saturday night at the beach. The traditional “Opening Of The Beaches” Weekend in Jacksonville. A yearly celebration, a weekend parade - a tradition in town going back 73 years.

Even though normally, the beaches are open year round here in Jax, the town comes together each spring to officiate a ceremonial opening of the beaches. Think - Gilmore Girls - town square style event - only a bit more wild. And more ceremonial in nature than anything else, the Beaches opening parade is as much of a party here in Jax as Pete’s Bar is on Thanksgiving morning. Just another reason to party. To celebrate life. Life at the beach. On an island. Living next to the sea.

And 2020 would have been year 74 of the parade - before it was canceled due to the coronavirus.

Yes, we were sitting outside, and it was Saturday night at the beach. 2020.

Hubby picking me up from work. Off early on a Saturday. The sun still out. A normal Saturday night in town would have meant the entire area would be hopping. Endless parties. Endless fun. Bike riders everywhere. Music. Talking. Laughter.

But instead, we sat down in front of the chocolatier, and stared at a visibly and noticeably vacant parking lot. A lot that is usually never empty. Diners from Poe’s. From other restaurants. Shops. And on a Saturday, the lot would be even more packed. Cars waiting for spots to open up.

But not on this Saturday night. Empty. Looking around. Soaking in the quiet surroundings.

It was just sooo sad.

When will Poe’s open back up? When will the other restaurants open for dine in? Shops? When will people not be scared to leave their houses? When will life return to this little corner of Beaches Town Center?

I don’t know. And I do care.

In the interim, however, there is always chocolate.

And the world still keeps on turning. And awards still must be handed out.

So, plague or no plague… civil war or no civil war, life as we know it, or life as we know it not, the chocolate must be eaten.

And Peterbrooke Chocolatier is hereby officially awarded Bean’s Battle For Best @ The Beaches 2020.

Congratulations, my dear and chocolatey friends. You’ve won The Battle Of The Bulge.

Thank you for the sunshine you add to the sky.

*Have you been to Peterbrooke Chocolatier? Where did you eat the best chocolate you ever had? I’d so love to know. Drop me a comment down below:

Also, for Bean’s Best Award Winner of 2019, be sure to check out V Pizza, below:
15] V Pizza ~ The Very Best Pizza In Jax Beach!

Plus - for some further fun in the Florida sun, and lots of sweet treats in Jax and beyond, check out the links below:
52] Keeping Cool - And Creamy - In Key West
45] Dessert First, My Friends ~ Cantina Louie
40] Visiting The Florida Cracker Kitchen ~ Jacksonville
39] The Very Official & Quite Serious Donut Debate Of 2020
31] Tuesday’s On First Street ~ The Jax Beach Art Walk ~
21] Cinotti’s ~ And Why Life Is Too Short To Not Eat Donuts
14] Finding Trinkets & Treasures @ The Jax Beach Vintage Flea Market
11] Eleven South Bistro & Bar ~~ Supper Club Of The South
3] The Dog Days Of Endless Summer
2] 3 Wows Plus 1 Piece Of Magic I Experienced At Jacksonville, Florida’s Cummer Museum Of Art & Gardens
1] Happy Birthday America ~ 4 Simple Steps To Help You Have An Easy Americana 4th:

Part of - Bean’s Coffee Shop Challenge - series

Well I never thought I’d live to see the day that Starbucks is closed. I mean - like - really closed. Not closed early; not closed for a holiday; not closed for training. Just - closed. With no predetermined opening date either. In the Jax Beaches area, at least.

Sigh.

The CoVid19 crisis is certainly upending all types of area businesses at this point. Large and small, local and chain. There is nothing remaining that is unaffected in some way by the coronavirus at this point.

And Starbucks has been closed for many days now - a few weeks actually. The place that I have relied upon for outings of all kinds, remains shuttered. I’ve been there on vacation, I’ve been there on the funnest days of my life. On Thanksgiving Day... On Christmas Day... I’ve been there in New Orleans, sitting inside the window, watching the electric street car go past on the outside. I’ve been there on the hardest days of my life. I’ve been there in Rochester, Minnesota, on days with the coldest sub-zero temperatures I’ve ever felt in my life. I’ve shared iced frappuccinos with my dearest friends, while standing on Main Street USA. I’ve been there for meetings. For friendship. For chatting. For reading. And, oh yeah, for some coffee, too.

So, with Starbucks literally being closed, and me still leaving the house every single day for work and life, I’ve been seeking out all the small coffee shops in town. Anyplace - and anywhere - that still has their doors open. Just like my recent outings to the Ugly Cupcake & Muffinry, and The Delicomb. If it’s open, I’ll be trying it.

I’ve always been a fan of all the chain shops and equally all the small shops. Which is why I started Bean’s Coffee Shop Challenge to begin with. Basically, if it’s coffee - I tend to be a fan. In fact, I may like coffee just as much as I like donuts.

Yeah, I guess those bold beans are basically up there at the top of the list for me. So today I’m extremely happy to showcase another exciting and very unique coffee adventure in the greater Jax area: Chaunie’s Coffee Truck!

And all it took was a virus, a global plague, and complete and total economic destruction, to finally lead me there! And to the absolute cutest truck in town, by the way.

I have actually been searching out Chaunie and her truck for a couple of years. A few years back I had my first iced latte from Chaunie’s while they were parked at an Art Walk in Jax Beach. But considering the entire business concept of a food truck is on wheels, and moving around, my schedule has simply never matched that of her truck, since my initial introduction to it back in the day at that fest.

But then, just recently, I happened to find her Instagram page. So I followed, and started watching where she was going to be each day. Noticing a day scheduled in Ponte Vedra Beach, on my day off, and it was finally a date.

We drove around the town of Ponte Vedra Beach - the small coastal town just south of Jax Beach, and found Chaunie’s black and minimalist and very cool truck, parked in the Ponte Vedra Lakes neighborhood, next to a small pond at the very end of a cul de sac.

And really, this whole pandemic “thing” going on in the world is what made me decide to go ahead and just buy the darn thing already.

Cause there’s nothing like a pandemic surrounding a respiratory virus to prove how important fresh air really is.

And our walks must go on. So the first day of this whole crisis that our little creature started limping, once again... was the very day I went ahead and placed the order.

I refuse to have her “stuck” at home just because she couldn’t walk very far. Especially with her humans still out there exercising and walking and getting their fresh air - and the world in crisis… It just didn’t seem right to have to cut the walk short for her, or leave her at home altogether, just so we could go on a very long walk without her.

So I made the executive decision to visit Chewy.com. And I quickly bought what I’m calling her buggy - her new ride.

Now Miss Madeline can ride around town in style. And not miss out. On FRESH AIR. That we all need in this life. Plague - or no plague. Because fresh air can do wonders. For doggies too!

So I purchased the Paws & Pals Deluxe Folding Dog & Cat Stroller, in black. The cost was $129.99, plus $9.10 in tax, for a total of $139.09. And yes, you can zip a cat in the netting, allowing them to sit, safely, so they can’t escape! How cool!

Free shipping goes along with any purchase through Chewy costing $49.00 or more. And I set up a free Chewy account while I was at it - so now we can order dog food and medicine and other supplies if needed as well.

I don’t anticipate needing to buy much from the site, as most all of her purchases are made at Petsmart, in person, and not online. But then again, I’m always happy to try out new or different pet suppliers.

And mostly I’m just happy we finally made this purchase for our little angel.

Then the day came when our stroller “finally” arrived to us - with impressively fast shipping actually. And we went on a lovely Sunday morning stroll. And I’m so happy that Madeline absolutely loved her buggy! She walked shorter than her usual route - and slower - and I could tell she was done, tired, in pain. This was when we normally would have gone immediately home. But noooo - not today! Prepared for everything - we finally were!

We plopped our little ball of fluff into her new and comfy seat. We gave her some ice water. And then we continued onward. We walked for a much longer time period. Like - a lot longer. We walked a length that Madeline never would have been able to do and something I usually do all by myself. But this Sunday we were able to do it as a family of three! For the very first time.

So it was a very good Sunday indeed.

And we even made it to The Delicomb - once again. Enroute home on our walk, we just so happened to walk past the coffee shop, and quickly ordered two large lattes to go. You know I didn’t happen to plan things that way, right?

And then, as our lovely Sunday morning stroll was reaching its conclusion, we were headed toward home and sipping our coffee, I saw something blue on the ground. I can’t see for anything, and from a distance I thought it was a piece of trash. But we got closer and I let out a gasp.

*Part of - Bean’s Coffee Shop Challenge - series

How does one “do” coffee shop outings during a pandemic? In-and-out is the basic and simple answer - in this, our new and current reality.

After my visit to the Ugly Cupcake & Muffinry a couple weeks ago, plus many recent visits to other local area restaurants for take-out, I knew exactly what to expect when I decided to visit the Delicomb this week. And I wasn’t surprised at all but the sight of my surroundings.

*Have you been to The Delicomb? What coffee shop are you desperately missing right now? I’d love to know. Drop me a comment down below:

And to check out the rest of Bean’s Coffee Shop Challenge, as well as reviews of various Floridian diners - check out the links below:
9] Sago Coffee: A Cup Of Friendly & Flavorful Florida
16] Beach Diner ~ If You Feed Them They Will Come
19] Another Broken Egg Cafe ~ A Taste Of NOLA @ The Beach
40] Visiting The Florida Cracker Kitchen ~ Jacksonville
44] Nothing Finer Than Coffee In The Keys ~ The Coffee Plantation Cafe
48] Love & Donuts In The Air @ Beaches For Australia
50] Sundays Are For Diners ~ Super Diners
57] First Watch on the First Coast
60] Welcome To Muffin Land ~ The Ugly Cupcake & Muffinry

​And as y’all know what kind of crazy time period we have been living throughout the global pandemic. Plus the 24 hour news cycle endlessly discussing all things coronavirus… being in the kitchen, and making a homemade dessert, can be a thoroughly needed and recommended distraction with the current state of affairs throughout the globe. Honestly, I can’t remember enjoying the entire process of making homemade food as much I did with this dish. These peanut butter bubbles were a sincere and absolute joy to make.

I made the treats at home on Holy Thursday, and they came to work with me on Good Friday. They were my Easter Goodies to share with everyone. And I think they went over well… At the end of my shift I went to grab my Tupperware to take home with me and every last Bubble was gone. Sooo happy indeed.
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The highest compliment any baker can receive is a completely empty serving platter.