Coffee, Crime, and a Grinding Good Time

    The holidays are coming up. With the holidays always comes the non-stop motion of it all. The food, the travel, it feels like we're moving at the speed of light, and we simply can't stop or we might explode. Or at least that's how I feel right now.  It's all pretty overwhelming. Even with all that jazz, there is something to be said for the even the smallest things remind me of mom.      Mom would always do the cooking for thanksgiving at our house, usually with some help here and there from me. This is our first holiday season without mom, and I know I'm in for a doozy. Aside from the the turkey and the green bean casserole, I will be doing most of the thanksgiving cooking this year. I feel as though I am up to the task, but it will be quite a bit of work. I work thanksgiving morning at my job (by choice of course) and then its back to the house to work on all the other things. The one thing that intimidated me the most about this upcoming holiday meal...

      This is yet another grief-related reflection. As per the previous post, it remains unedited in the section written during the stream of consciousness induced word vomit. Forgive the issues. This one does have a joke in it, so it's okay to laugh!      Once again it appears that grief rears her head. Basically every time I am left in the dark alone with my thoughts, after a weekend filled with blessings. Yesterday my godbrother, Philip, was ordained to the diaconate. It was a blessing to be present, although our travel plans got rearranged. I once again sit alone in the backseat of my brother's car. I think about how this is a milestone my mom should've been here for. A flight turned road trip we could've shared. Our last minute plan changes to drive after delayed flights, reminded my brothers and I of our stubborn resilience and determination. We called our mother's godmother, Theia Antonia, about our last minute plan change, to which she laughed and r...

      I wrote this while I was flying home from a conference. I have left it mostly unedited as I think it's important that the raw emotions come out. I only took people's names out to protect their privacy as well as my own.       Grief is a strange mistress. As I depart from Atlanta after a blessed weekend getting to be around so many other wonderful people I began to reflect on the conversations I had and the people I met. So much joy and laughter, some free drinks and fellowship over dinner. Yet with all that joy my departure which started out welcome at the insistence of my very tired body and mind, in a strange twist of fate turned to sorrow. I began to think about this time last year I got home from this same event ready to tell my mother of all the new people I met and the fun I had waiting out some bad weather at her Godmother's house (no one can say no to Theia especially when I was already so tired). And this year I cannot excitedly tell my ...

     If you're reading this blog of it's likely you are a friend or acquaintance of mine. Perhaps we've known each other for years, or we've met in passing at events, or you're a regular of mine. Maybe we've never even met and you ended up here by accident. Whatever the case may be, welcome! I'm happy to have you here, feel free to stay as long as you like.      Let's start from the beginning. Well, maybe not the very  beginning. My name is Virginia, but most people call me Ginny. I work as a barista in a local coffee shop which I'm pretty sure I was born to do, seeing as I've been drinking coffee since the tender age of about five years old. If you were to ask my parents they'd probably blame the pot of coffee I spilled on myself as a less-than-two-year-old; I would tend to agree. In 2019 I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, and Ankylosing Spondylitis which is an ongoing challenge I face. I am a proud Texas State University alum, and I...