Let Freedom Ring, Sisters

“Freedom lies in BEING BOLD.” Robert Frost

Independence Day! July is the month to celebrate our many freedoms. Sure, there are the barbecues and the fireworks to celebrate our nation’s independence. But, it’s so much more than that. Our personal freedoms have grown exponentially since that fateful day in 1776. We are blessed with the freedom to go where we want, do what we want, say what we want, and believe what we want. And we, as Sisters on the Fly, exemplify that better than most.

What is Your freedom?

I have never felt so free as I did the day I sold my house, bought a 30’ travel trailer and an F-150 and hit the open road. I came out from under a mortgage that wouldn’t have been paid off till I was 90 years old! When I bought that travel trailer, I felt this enormous burden lifted off of me. I knew that if worse came to worse, I would have a place to live that was paid for and that offered me freedom. I spent much of the following two years traveling back and forth across the country...from South Dakota to South Carolina and all parts in between...living and loving the RV lifestyle.

Sister Freedom

Sisters on the Fly was created out of a freedom that many women couldn’t even fathom. The original Sisters, Maurrie and Becky, were taught by the best...the original Sister. Their mother Mazie was a remarkable women who taught her girls the freedom of the great outdoors at a very young age. They fished, hiked, boated, camped, rode horses, and traveled extensively and learned to be brave and bold. There are certainly like-minded women in this group who were raised that way and were looking for others to share in the fun. But, if you are like me, these were skills learned much later in life. I only camped a handful of times in my whole life before I found the Sisters. I, like many of you, came here after losing my husband.

Ch-ch-changes

Loss creates opportunities. Not that you wish for losses to change you, but you can choose in your loss to learn and grow and expand into this “new normal”. Learning new skills, meeting new people, exploring new territories gives you not only new experiences, but new tools for your coping toolbox. There are so many losses that have brought us here...divorce, death, empty nests, retirement, illnesses. The common ground is sisterhood and personal growth and that is a freedom in and of itself.

Freedom to be who we are. When I was raised in the ‘60s and ‘70s, even though we were in a social revolution of sorts, I was stuck in a time warp. Growing up “country” in West Virginia was a conservative, naive, innocent time where the women in my family were taught to type and marry young so you could start those babies coming. I remember riding my bike as a young girl and fantasizing I was traveling cross-country and up into Canada. I would pretend I had panniers on my bike at a time when I didn’t know what panniers were. I planned out my food and lodging and how I would get there. I envisioned sleeping in a small tent along streams where I would fish. I may not have ever had the opportunity to camp, but camping was in my blood. My favorite book was The Boxcar Children. Then the adolescent indoctrination began and I was bombarded with speech after speech on the importance of getting married and raising babies. And my dreams of the long, long bike ride got stuffed way down inside.

Dreams & Changes

These dreams surfaced on occasion during my life. That first marriage was a starter marriage and gave me my older daughter. As a single mom, I bought a used bike with a child seat on the back and rode around with her. The long bike ride bubbled up a little. My second marriage was spent putting my husband through medical school and residency. There wasn’t time to think about much more than survival. I got closer to touching those dreams when he was establishing a practice and time was more flexible. We had a second child. We backpacked once. We hiked. We rode bikes. We even camped in a small dome tent a couple of times. We had a very brief stint with a VW Vanagon camper in the early ‘80s but the money from its sale was needed for a down payment on a house. That was the end of that and the dream went into hiding.

When that marriage ended and several years later I met Hubby #3, I was hopeful. He seemed to embrace the idea of camping...if there was a good golf course nearby. We went on a three week road trip for our honeymoon and I bought a tent that hooked onto the back of our SUV. It stayed in the box the entire trip. As a matter of fact...it’s still in the box! The closest we came to camping was staying in a cabin in Jackson Hole. He was a South Philly city boy. Camping just wasn’t his thing.

After his untimely death, I bought that camper I had long dreamed of and the freedom of the open road called me to be brave and go. I did things I have never done before...alone. I went into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado. I traveled to Mexico...not by camper, but by plane. The freedom to cross borders and go where I wanted was alluring. The freedom to be who I want to be was life altering. The Sisters showed me that HE died...I did not. I had this great big world to explore and the freedom to do it.

July is about so much more than s’mores and fireworks, beer and brats, and saluting the flag. It’s about letting freedom ring. YOUR freedom. Be brave! Be BOLD! Go outside and play...and, have more fun than anyone!

With much love,
Ginny

Post contributed by blogger, Positive Aging Expert & Motivational Speaker,
Ginny McKinney, SOTF #3537
Marshmallow Ranch Blog

Sisters Thanksgiving Mobile Feast

Happy Thanksgiving, all Sisters, Friends, Family!

Sisters on the Fly are pretty darn good at creating superb feasts anywhere with just a bit of planning. Here is a menu for any adventurous camper on this favorite holiday of ours.

(Last year SOTF dropped their "No Dogs" rule for events (now it's the hostess' prerogative, more like) so let's start this menu out with the "Hair of the Dog" shall we?

The Washington Apple (from Sister #789, Cast-Iron Cooking with Sisters on the Fly Cookbook)
recipe-boulevardierPlace 1 oz. of blended whiskey (like Crown Royal),
1 oz. Sour Apple Pucker Schnapps,
1 oz. cranberry juice in a cocktail shaker full of crushed ice.
Shake and strain in a chilled glass.
It tastes just like an apple! Only one a day keeps the doctor away, though.

 

FISHTALES Bloody Mary (from Sister #442, Cast-Iron Cooking with Sisters on the Fly Cookbook

bloody mary1 32-oz. bottle of Clamato juice
1 tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp. Tabasco
2 tbsp. dried dill weed
1/4 cup vodka (or to your liking or none)
2 limes, quartered
1 5-oz. jar giant green olives stuffed with garlic & jalapeno
Place Clamato juice, Worcestershire, Tabasco and dill weed in a serving pitcher & mix well. Add vodka & stir. Serve in glass over ice cubes & squeeze a lime quarter in each glass. Garnish with an olive or two. Cheers!

TURKEY in a Trash Can (from the Sisters #62, Sisters on the Flytrashcan-turkey-pheasant-phantazmagoria-026 Book)
Use your own special spices to add your touch.. Seems pretty hardcore but it's E-Z, ladies!
1 20-lb. turkey
Salt, pepper, garlic powder
Roll of heavy-duty aluminum foil
10 lbs. of sand if you're camping on rocky soil not sand)
18 to 20"  wooden 2 x 2
20-gallon metal trash can (clean)
30 lbs. of charcoal
Small camp shovel
Thermal gloves

6522ea4edb1dfcbe9611fc99d2293054--best-turkey-scout Wash turkey, remove neck & giblets, season with spices, set aside. Line a 4-foot-square area on ground with foil. (If ground is uneven/rocky, even out with sand.) In center of square drive the 2x2 in the ground leaving enough height for the bird to "sit" on it. Cover 2x2 with foil. Place turkey on 2x2 & turn trash can upside down and centered over the bird. Twist can a little to make of good seal into the sand to trap the heat. Put as much charcoal as you can on top of the can. Mound the remainder of the 30 lbs. around base of can. Light the charcoal. After coals are hot (about 30 minutes) start timing the turkey. Cook for about 1.5 hrs. Use a shovel to remove the briquettes from around the can. Use gloves to remove the can. Use the trash can lid as your serving platter!

 

TEXAS CREAM PECAN PIE (from Sister #268, Cast-Iron Cooking with Sisters on the Fly Cookbook)
1 cup sugarScreen Shot 2017-11-17 at 1.34.03 PM
2 tsp. all purpose flour
3 egg yolks, well beaten
(reserve whites if making meringue; see note)
1 cup milk
Pinch of salt
1 cup chopped pecans
1 tsp. butter
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 9-inch pie crust, baked
Combine sugar & flour. Add well-beaten egg yolks, milk, salt, pecans, butter & vanilla extract. Pour into a sauce pan. Cook until thick, stirring constantly. Pour into baked pie crust. Refrigerate & serve.
Meringue Topping (if making in a kitchen, not a campground):
3 egg whites, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 cup sugar
Place egg whites in a bowl, add vanilla extract and cream of tartar. Beat with electric mixer at medium speed or whisk until frothy. Gradually add sugar and beat on high until very stiff peaks form. Spoon over pie. Put under broiler for 30 sec. to 1 min. until the meringue tips begin to brown.

Enjoy your Thanksgiving and let's us know if you used any of these recipes and please share any of your holiday favorites (for our next cookbook, perhaps!).

 

Getting Bolder: Santa's Gift

It was a bitter cold December day in Colorado. I'd been a widow for just nine months. I knew I was isolating myself in an attempt to...what? Ease the pain? Hide the pain from others? Sleep through it? Probably all of the above. I had found the Sisters. I had been on two trips and the Christmas Party. That helped more than I could have imagined. But...the long, dark days of winter came and TOW-Wanda went to live in a locked storage area by the airport and my only escape from this huge sense of loss was to crawl under the covers. I couldn't run away and play with my friends. And, let's face it...while we can heal in the company of our comrades in tutus, there comes a time when we have to face our greatest challenges alone. And here I was...at the edge of a real depression. I'd been there before. It was a place I didn't care to visit again. I had to do something. I had to make myself move.

I knew I needed to be around people and get back into the world a little bit. After all, you can't mattress surf forever. I had lived in a small community on the western slope of Colorado since 1986. I knew there was a good chance I would run into people I knew...supportive, loving people...and I needed hugs. I forced myself out of bed and dressed. I wore Mr. Virgo's leather bomber jacket...for warmth...for comfort. I drove to town and stopped at all my favorite shops to talk and hug...sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. I decided to stop at the mall on the way home. I often did anything I could to avoid going home to that empty house.

The mall was crowded with last minute shoppers. I parked on the outskirts of the lot and slogged through the slushy, dirty snow. The grey surroundings matched my mood. I started at the Penney's end and worked my way down. I saw a friend who knew of my loss and offered me hugs and encouragement. I saw a friend who hadn't heard and I had to tell her. That was always harder because I had to share THEIR loss as well as feel my own. I wandered through shops, totally disinterested in a holiday that had meant so much to my husband and me. It didn't mean much with him gone.

I finally made my way to the other end where Santa was stationed. I stood to the side and watched as three fresh-faced children looked up in awe at this man in red with the snowy white beard...their faces aglow with wonder. I stood for the longest time, unaware the tears were dripping off my chin. The children finally finished telling Santa their wishes and were given a candy cane as they returned to their proud parents, happily chattering away. I was bereft. I saw nothing but this gaping chasm that had once held my beloved. There was a hole in my heart that I felt would never heal.

Suddenly, I noticed Santa watching me. He tipped his head slightly as he studied me. He was having an internal conversation with himself as he watched this strange woman crying nearby. A moment later, his mind seemingly made up, he scooched to the side of his big velvet chair and patted the seat beside him. I looked to the left and to the right. No one but me. I took a deep breath, walked up to the jolly old elf and sat beside him. Neither of us spoke. My shoulders shook with sobs as I tried to contain myself. Santa rested his arm around my shoulder. When I could finally speak, I leaned towards him and whispered. He leaned in closer in order to hear me.

"I lost my husband. I need a new heart."

Santa drew me closer and whispered back, "I'm so sorry."

I continued to weep for only a minute or so and, as is the nature of grief, the moment passed and I soon regained control. I apologized and said I must be a total mess to which he kindly replied, "No...you're perfect."

"Will you have your picture taken with me?" Santa asked.

I turned into a wistful child and said, "Can I?"

The elf snapped our photo and when I reached for my wallet to pay, Santa said, "No, this one's on me." I smiled and thanked him.

As I rose to leave, Santa leaned in and whispered, "Thank you for stopping to see me today."

"Thank you for being real!" I whispered back.

That first Christmas was the worst, as the firsts after such a great loss often are. Many of us struggle with the holidays, for whatever reason. "Getting Bolder" isn't always easy when you'd rather hide under the covers or run away from your problems than to face them head on...especially when Jingle Bells is doing anything but making you feel jolly. I found great strength in a kind man who wore a red suit and offered the simplest of human emotions.

Ginny McKinny Sisters on the Fly Getting Bolder

"She traded in her tiara for a trailer and a pickup truck." Follow Ginny as she navigates her grief journey....one campfire at a time!

Ginny McKinney, Sister #3537

Follow Ginny, Author, Blogger, and Speaker at Marshmallow Ranch 

Stay tuned to this spot as we explore the transitions that we encounter in this march through life. I’ll be featuring some amazing women as we discover the myriad ways we Sisters adjust to the changes thrust upon us. I hope you’ll grab a cup of coffee and sit a spell by the fire with me.