You know, that time of year you think about resolutions.

Frank and I were soaking in our second-hand, jury-rigged jacuzzi tub, contemplating what to do with the rest of our lives, and how to make it -- well, less like the life we were then living. Isn’t that what resolutions are all about?

I was tossing out options for a new project, or even a career change, when at one point Frank said, "If you’re going to do all that, why not do it yourself?"

And he planted the conceptual seed of a magazine for Central West Virginia - a seed that refused to sit idle and insisted upon growing in our minds.

It was an irrational concept, really. Quit a good job, and bet it all on this growing dream. A dream that vined through our minds and conversations, and in discussion among ourselves and others, seemed more and more rational every day.

In fact, once we began discussing that growing seed with others, they began to encourage growth of the concept, and wanted to participate.

In fact, Two-Lane Livin’ is very much like a printed stone soup.

The story of stone soup, by the Brothers Grimm, tells of a traveler, who comes to a village, carrying nothing more than an empty pot. Upon his arrival, the villagers are unwilling to share any of their food with the hungry traveler. So he simply fills the pot with water, drops a large stone in it, and places it over a fire in the village square.

One of the villagers becomes curious and asks about his actions, and he replies that he is making "stone soup", which tastes wonderful -- although it still needs a little bit of garnish to improve the flavor, which he is missing.

The villager doesn't mind parting with just a little bit to help out, and he happens to have a bit of garnish, which gets added to the soup. Another villager walks by, inquiring about the pot, and the travelers again mention the stone soup, which hasn't reached its full potential yet. The second villager hands a little bit of seasoning to help.

More and more villagers walk by, each adding another ingredient. Finally, a delicious and nourishing pot of soup is enjoyed by all.

With Two-Lane Livin’, Frank and I merely had an idea that was little more than a pot of water, with a stone at the bottom. It is our columnists who stepped up to offer garnish, seasoning, vegetables to the pot. It is our advertising clients who offered the meat. With me stirring the soup and Frank maintaining the fire, the ingredients in our pot simmered into a literary meal for our entire community to enjoy together.

I am embarrassed by my pride, but I can’t help myself. I believe, truly believe, our columnists are special people. I am awed and often amazed at the unique variety of our readership. And I am terribly humbled by the blessing bestowed upon me that once was nothing more than a seed, which became a stone, and then became a divine soup, that Frank and I offer to all we encounter.

If you’ve developed a taste for Two-Lane Livin’, I hope you’ll enjoy a peek behind the scenes this month as we share some of the secrets of our Two-Lane recipe, in celebration of our first year in print. Our survey results are included in this issue, as are some thoughts from readers on the magazine and the Two-Lane Lifestyle, in answer to the question, "What does Two-Lane Livin’ mean to you?"

I hope you will enjoy the new ingredients we’ve added, "Granny’s Front Porch" by Susanna Holstein, "Through The Seasons" by outdoor columnist Randy Bodkins, and "Notes from a WV Wanderer" by Janet Davis. I believe these added ingredients round out our literary soup, and will help us feed the minds of even more readers.

Truly, at this one-year of print landmark, I could just hug you all. This magazine isn’t something that Frank and I have done. All we had was a pot holding a stone and simmering water. But, true to Central West Virginia nature, Two-Lane Livin’, with the community’s support, has become a pot luck, a smorgasbord with hearty soup and home made biscuits and real butter, spread across a Two-Lane table that covers our region.

To me, Two-Lane Livin’ means that people still come together for a common cause, and give of themselves beyond their means. It means that believing in a dream is a rational concept, because people need the contagious belief that dreams can come true. It means that if you have a pot, a stone and some liquid faith, the Lord will provide the remaining ingredients for the meal.

Thank you for reading - over the past year and into the future.

Our pot runneth over. ~ Lisa

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The Little Ford Truck

When we bought it, seven years ago, it had only had one owner, who put highway miles on it; it was dependable, and had a good radio and speakers. The truck also had a tree on top of it at the time, a broken windshield, and several dents and dings. But, we paid $500 for it, put in a new windshield, patched the aluminum topper, and it’s been a good little truck, mostly, ever since.

It has new dents... A deer hit it here, and another deer hit it there.... In fact, the front and rear bumpers are both smashed in, from two separate non-deer related incidents, that happened a day apart.

On the first day, Frank was off to work, "driving consistently" as he puts it, fifth in a row of cars on a Saturday -- when the first car in the row stopped for a garage sale... Frank, alas, didn’t get stopped as quickly as the others. Thus, the dented front bumper, and a grumpy husband comes home to greet me and my mother, who has just arrived for a weekend visit.

The next day, we were all in the yard, I was showing Mother my flower beds, when we heard an automatic weapon firing on the hill above.

Frank, still a bit grouchy, jumped in the truck and went halfway up the logging road on the hill to yell profanities at the armed trespassers. Mother and I watched the truck, rooting and bouncing up the hill, disappear behind the pine trees.

In a few moments, we heard Frank bellowing on the hill, and looked up from the flower bed to see the Little Fork Truck rolling backwards, down the hill, without Frank in it. It bounced and jerked backwards, all the way down the hill until, WHAM! It hit the only tree at the edge of the hayfield.

Thus, the dented rear bumper.

Still, it runs like a top, like it was made for hills and turns and twists through glens and valleys. It gets pretty good gas mileage, and it can hold several thousand copies of our magazine. Frank and his friend pulled out the major bends in the bumpers, and we recently gave it a coat of paint from a can -- of the wrong color blue.

The Little Ford Truck is half of our "delivery fleet." It may not be pretty, but it does a good job, most of the time, at getting Two-Lane Livin’ delivered along our Two-Lane Routes.

I pay homage to the Truck this month because, like Two-Lane Livin’, it has also reached a major milestone -- it just rolled past 500,000 miles.