Why I Don't Miss Real Estate

I guarantee if she'd gone into property management she'd have nailed those emotions in three months. 

 

The Christmas Party

I mentioned some time back, I was invited to join the Lady's Auxiliary (also known as "Unit 3" for some unknown reason) at our church. I agreed because I figured I should probably get to know some of the folks at my church half as well as I was getting to know the ladies at the Church of Christ. So far, Unit 3 has had one meeting. They also had a Christmas party scheduled for December 3. 

Well, on December 3, the only person who was healthy enough to attend was me, and I was in Arizona. So, they moved the party to this past Wednesday.  

Up until the hour before it started, I'd been looking forward to this Christmas party. Then, the anxiety kicked in. I'd met most of the ladies who'd be attending (one time), but couldn't tell you their names. Marty had worked all day, was recovering from a cold and looked like he wanted to do anything other than go to this thing. How was this exactly going to work out? What if they were serving shrimp? Who would I talk to at this shin-dig? What if I said something anti-Southern? Anti-Catholic? And God forbid, Anti-Texan?  

Also, this crowd knew each other for more than 30 years. Marty and I were the outsiders. Plus, they were all in their late 50s-mid 60s. At 54, I'm the baby of the group. My anxiety lasted until I walked in the door and our hostess Melody greeted me and offered me--and I'm not making this up--an apple pie moonshine shot. I stopped at one and wished there was Fireball Whiskey to chase it down with, just to cut the edge. I think Melody stopped at 17. If she was drunk, it didn't show. Melody reminds me of Marty's late mother--a gregarious, bossy, Catholic Texan. She is a hoot.  

Before eating, everyone sung Happy Birthday to Marty, who was the only December birthday in the bunch. After we ate, we played some silly party games and then we had--and mind you, this is Texas where polite society and political correctness aren't what the rest of the world considers for either--a "Chinese" Gift Exchange game. Each party had to bring a man and woman gift. I ended up with a set of mixing bowls that Polly can take with her if she promises to eventually move out. Marty got earbuds (which are now mine). 

I now feel much more comfortable with Unit 3. I have a tentative lunch and sewing date with one of the ladies for later next month. Marty even mentioned perhaps we should stay for coffee and donuts after mass and visit next week. So, it looks like he had fun too. 

Adventures in Writing Groups

This past year, I was involved with two writing groups. My original writing group was made up of an international group of women. They were wonderful for plot development. The best writer of the group dropped out for employment reasons, leaving  three of us. Now, I'm finding the two who are left aren't what I'm looking for when it comes to in-depth story structure. I like them. But I feel like I'm helping them at this point more than they are helping me. This group isn't going anywhere, I'll still participate. However, I'm starting to zone out. 

I also got with a writer friend in Arizona and she and I formed another group last summer. One woman in our group, Alice, oozed passive aggressiveness. She had control issues and kept changing the meeting time. Plus, Alice wouldn't send us a chapter for our meeting. She'd send us weird stream of consciousness and a list of themes she'd want her non-existent story to cover. We were then expected to discuss this--though we had no earthly idea what her story was about. One day, my friend congratulated me on how I kept my cool when Alice didn't want to show her face in our Zoom meeting. That truly was a shining moment of my adulthood. 

The feedback Alice would give would be to purposely misunderstand the basics of narration. In my chapter I'd write, "I walked towards the road, mindful of the heavy rush hour traffic." and her feedback would be "How can the reader be sure your character is really doing this? Also, when you say 'road' do you mean an asphalt street? Dirt path? There are different kinds of roads in different cultures. Does your character have the phycological wherewithal to make these kinds of decisions?"  

In my imagination, I put her in a writing group with great authors and thought of how she'd approach her feedback to them. She would have told Mark Twain if she was beta reading Tom Sawyer, "How does your reader really know Tom and Becky are in a cave and not in a space ship instead?" Steven King would have gotten pointless feedback such as, "Andy Dufresne. Should he really be in prison? Are you sure that's the best spot for him? Prison reform is such a hot topic" (DuFresne was convicted of murdering his wife in 1947 and the majority of Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption takes place in a prison. So, yes!) And of course Jane Austen would have gotten, "I'd rather see Mr. Darcy end up with someone like Lydia. A better match for him." 

Anyway, the last time Alice decided she needed to change the meeting time, I wished her well and changed the Zoom access so she couldn't come back. 

We also had Olive in this group. Dear, Sweet Olive. I've been working with Olive since June. I brought her into the group, thinking she'd benefit from more than me telling her how to fix her story. Olive spent a great deal of each chapter letting the reader know what her character was eating: McDonald's baked seabass, tuna sandwich and when we pointed out the reader will assume if the character is living, they are eating, Olive just changed the order of the meals and didn't add any more actual content to her murder mystery. 

Olive's story seems to be in the same place it was when we started, which is nowhere with better subject-verb agreement thanks to my friend and me. Additionally, Olive doesn't provide beta reading feedback to either my friend or myself, other than to say, "I'd like to compliment you on your use of strong verbs." 

After banging our heads for months, my friend and I decided to let this "group" fall apart. Now, I've put my friend in charge of finding us two qualified writers who will give critiques that are in line to our plots. They don't have to be at the same level of writers as us. But they must be team players. We'd like to see people who want to grow (like us) and want to offer us feedback to help us grow as well. 

Currently, my friend has rejected more potential writers than she's let move through this process. As of right now, there is one person she's strongly considering. My friend sent me a copy of her writing for me to read. I sent something terrible I wrote years ago and asked for feedback in return, just to see how this person would respond. If we can do better than, "Is your character really running through the forest like you suggest?" I'm probably on board.   

Have Spade and Gloves Ready

I just put my application in to be considered for Bowie County's Master Gardener program. It is a joint program through Texas A&M. Though I would think they would take volunteer labor when it is available, apparently this isn't the case. This is a big deal and there is a selection process. I'm thinking of Rush Week for potential gardeners. 

Part of the application was a several page questionnaire. And, like all Southern activities thus far, it came with a litany of personal questions designed to see if I was a serial killer would be a good fit. 

Please explain your volunteer history for the past twenty years, use additional paper if necessary. I homeschooled. Doesn't that count? I raised kids, co-oped classes and homeschool events, was part of Polly's Girl Scouts, was one of the "Volunteer Moms" with the karate studio. And the list goes on. However, none of this was plant-based. 

Please explain your professional experience for the past twenty years. Use additional paper if necessary. Honestly, I could have written a six-volume set on this one, but I kept it simple: Homeschool mom (it's work), real estate broker/agent, owned a property management company for a spell, freelance writer.  

Please explain your horticulture experience. Include both floral and food. Use additional paper if necessary. And this is where it got tricky. I've managed to grow a tomato in Phoenix and spend under $1200 in water doing so. I think that should count for something. Instead, I embellished my one year of Texas experience. I've successfully grown a bumper crop of jalapenos. Plus, I've planted tulip bulbs two years in a row. I wrote all of the above paragraph with a lot more words and made it sound glamorous.

If selected, what do you wish to accomplish being part of the Master Gardener Program? I want to grow more than one tomato a summer for starters. But I didn't put that down. Nor did I put down, I wanted a reason to leave my house once in a while. Instead, I kind of paraphrased their mission statement and added a few more flowery sentences. Hopefully there was enough fertilizer on my answer to grow into a real opportunity.  

There was two more pages of questions along these lines. I don't know what the program is looking for in their selection of folks. Candidates will be selected by the end of January. Right now my fingers are crossed I'll have a chance to play in the dirt and learn a few tricks along the way. 

An E-mail From My Favorite Human

I love this kid! 

Dear Auntie,

You should get a letter in the mail.

It might get there early, late, or on time for Christmas.

It will include a letter.

Merry Christmas From Patrick

A Cold Winter's Day

Being the new kid in town makes me ever so grateful when an invitation comes around. Yesterday, in front of the storm, Cindy invited me to lunch. Even with the promised frigid temps, I wasn't turning this down. We both rushed to the grocery store for last-minute provisions (she insisted I do this and told me I wouldn't be sorry--I wasn't. There were two gallons of milk left at Walmart 10 a.m.), ran home to put away our milk and eggs (they would have froze in the car) and then met at the pizza place for a quick bite. 

I met Cindy through the Coronas. Right after Thanksgiving, she needed outpatient surgery and I offered to drive her to Sulphur Springs--70 miles away. At the time, I thought nothing of the act, as I had way too much time and four walls that were closing in on me, but Cindy (as well as several of the Coronas who reached out after), have expressed a heartfelt gratitude. 

Actually, the gratitude is mine. It is nice to meet new people and have genuine conversations. I never felt lonely in Arizona, even as an introvert. My first nine months in Texarkana I was spiraling into the loneliness abyss. 

But I digress. 

Cindy lives on a farm with three horses, a donkey and three goats. At lunch she was working out the logistics and trying to figure out if they could all get along in her garage for the night with a space heater. I haven't heard how that worked out just yet. But she didn't think the horses would make it otherwise. This is what people in a small town with a weather anomaly talk about.  

Anyway, after our lunch, the temperature had dropped from 34 degrees to 27. I had grabbed a pizza for the family for dinner. Then I stopped by Petsmart and bought one of the few remaining packages of puppy pads, figuring Luna might not want to go outside in the middle of the night. It turns out my idea wasn't that unique. That's usually what dog owners do when there's a cold spell. Incidentally, the puppy pads were a waste of money. Luna went outside in 7 degrees and then promptly came back in and burrowed under the blankets. I think Luna has the right idea for today. 

East Texas Bi-Polar Weather

For those of you who love, love, love winter, come get your weather. I did not sign up for 7 degrees. Actually, never mind. By next week it's supposed to be in the mid-60s. 

In other news, while wrapping presents the other day, I ran across the gloves I was giving the young adults for Christmas. I handed the gloves to them early. By Christmas they would have no use for them.  

  

Bloom Where I'm Planted

We've been Texans for a year. So far so good. After spending two+ weeks in Arizona this month, I can honestly say I don't miss Phoenix, the litter, crime and traffic. I miss the people I love. All'y'all. Bunches. 

I didn't warm up to my newly adopted home right away. Perhaps if my father hadn't died two months after I got here I'd have felt differently. But then again, as a good friend pointed out, I was already mourning leaving the only life I knew behind before Dad passed. It feels like I didn't get into the groove of things here in Texas until around September. 

And let's be fair, "warming up," might be an overstatement. I had to get used to a different life. It is quieter here. Traffic is slower. People are more forgiving. There is no litter, graffiti and crazy is kept in check lest the risk of community shaming. My big-city attitude needed to melt. It mostly had--that is, until I went back to Phoenix two weeks ago. Maybe I can strike a deal that my big-city attitude can be kept in a box and pulled out on appropriate occasions. 

It took a while, but I've met people I like. I'm involved with like-minded people, and a few folks who are completely not like-minded and who are much more interesting. I decided I was accepted by folks while I was gone on this past Arizona trip when three or four people texted me to see how my sister-in-law was doing and when was I coming back. This past Wednesday, Cindy put in the Church of Christ prayer thread a request for my safe travels back "home" which several ladies sweetly responded with private notes of their own.

Additionally, this year I strengthened several Arizona friendships. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I love and appreciate the people I left behind. Every phone call, text and e-mail is a sweet reminder of how grateful I am they are in my life. My Arizona friends have kept me going through some of my recent darker moments in a way the new people in my life never could. 

This past year I've had a chance to pursue hobbies that I never had a chance to do when we were running around chasing life in Arizona. I wrote several short stories. Plus, I managed to write two full-length novels. One is on the shelf, brewing. The other is in edit stages. I joined two writing groups. Neither are local, but both have brought me creative joy. I also joined the public library's book club. Valerie taught me to sew. Bob the Paramedic taught me to quilt. I also grew a garden. In fact, as I write this, I still have broccoli and Bussell sprouts--however, it is supposed to get down to 14 degrees this week. 

In the next year, I have a few projects I wish to start. I've been invited to apply for the Texas A&M/Bowie County Master Gardener program. I want to volunteer at the local homeless mission. I'm working on another quilt, with Bob's help. Bob wants to open a quilt shop, which I'd be willing to work at part time. I'm part of a Bible study at my church on Thursdays. I go to the Church of Christ prayer meetings once a month, mainly for the community and friendship. Tessa, my Realtor, introduced me to the Coronas, who treat me like one of them. Plus, there's a new group I've just been invited to: the Thursday Lunch Bunch. Same Corona Ladies, but this is once a week and over salad. Thus far, the timing hasn't worked for me to join the Lunch Bunch, but I've been told I'm expected in 2023. Additionally, the Woman's Auxiliary from my church as volunteer opportunities for the community as well. So, hopefully I will find ways to grow in my new Texas home. 

A Year at Arizona Avenue

 As of today, we've been here a year. 

I managed to take pictures of our home every month for the past year. 

December 2021

Luna is photobombing the picture, looking out the front door. 

January 2022
That white stuff is snow. It did not get above 35 degrees last January. 

February 2022

More snowy stuff. 

March 2022

April 2022. Luna is looking out the door. 

Apparently I don't have a May picture of our house. 

But here's a picture of just Arizona Avenue taken June 1. 

June 2022 See that bushy stuff lining the flower garden around the outside of the house. That's called "monkey grass." It might be a Texas law that it is required to line everyone's flower garden. I hate the stuff because it makes the yard look shabby and that's where snakes like to hide. 

July 2022. Look at how green everything is! Those are sunflowers on the left in front of the garage. And the crepe myrtles in front of the house are blooming. Squee! 

 

August 2022 

Still green. Oh my! 

September 2022. Luna is staring out the door. 

October 2022

The monkey grass was pulled. Tulip bulbs planted. 

November 2022

We had the front door painted red when we had the interior painted. 

December 2022 with a few Christmas decorations. 

 

Back Home

 I left Mrs. Meadows Wednesday morning around 9 a.m., breezed through El Paso and made it to the thriving metropolis of Monahans Texas, some 600 miles away. It was about a 9 hour trip, though Google Maps will tell you otherwise. For the last hour of my drive, Jane, Marty and the kids were taking turns talking to me on the phone, keeping me awake. 

The worst of that drive came at the end when I ran over something concrete and now I need a front end alignment. I also lost my hotel key two minutes after I checked in and had to ask for another room key when I went to the front desk to buy one of those overpriced frozen dinners. It was the only meal I had all day. That isn't a complaint. I never eat when I drive. 

Yesterday, I left Monahans before 5 and made it to Dallas by 10:30. I was home by 2:30. The kids, the dog and laundry greeted me. And dishes. My mistake for not removing the invisible forcefield from the dishwasher and washing machine before I left.  

The house has been festively decorated, sans the Christmas tree. I'm told they are waiting for me for that one. That's tomorrow's fun. 

Last night I slept 10 hours. I could use another 10 hours. Today is laundry day. Grocery day. Pay bills day (I don't know where the bills were put but there's a pile of papers on the kitchen island) and get back to normal day. It is also find warmer clothes day, because the high today is 40 degrees. 

She Doesn't Read This Blog Anyway

A shout-out to all my wonderful friends in AZ who understand my time this past week has been severely limited, this trip was unplanned and I am here to help and not socialize.  I love you. Thank you for being understanding.

For that friend person who opted to send me ugly text messages letting me know what an awful and "insensitive" friend I am for coming in town and not swinging by to say hello, well... bless your heart. 

Yes Ma'am

Next week when I leave Maricopa County, I will be stopping by Cochise County for the briefest of visits with Mrs. Meadows. It's a busy time of year for her, with running the Sunday School, the Christmas pageant and a litany of other activities she has planned. Did I mention she's in her mid-80s? 

Additionally, she's informed me while I'm there we will be "solidifying" future dates for a visit. That's fine. I'm planning on returning back to Arizona in a few months--just not three weeks from now. 

When I called her, she said, "You will be staying the night?" 

"Sure, if you don't mind," I replied. 

Mrs. Meadows was quiet for a moment and then said, "I guess you thought that was a question, didn't you?" 

I certainly don't mind camping at her 10 acre compound at the base of the Dragoons. The only downside is that she's 4.5 hours to El Paso. After El Paso, the next closest place to bunk for the night is Pecos, three hours further. I either need to leave first thing in the morning, to get to Pecos or I can spend half a day with her and then plan on staying in El Paso for the night with a very early start the next morning and a 14 hour drive in front of me. 

The good news is I should be home in time for Marty's birthday. In the meantime, I'm planning a quick picnic lunch with her in the Chiricahua Mountains (or maybe the Dragoon Mountains--I prefer Dragoon, she prefers Chiricahuas, and she doesn't get to go as often as she'd like) next week before heading to El Paso.  

Patrick

My nine year old nephew Patrick is a genius. And like all geniuses everywhere, he doesn't care that he is that smart. Why do homework? It's just busy work (Auntie has been asked to not validate this, even if I wholeheartedly agree). Why learn multiplication when people use calculators? Why shouldn't he spend hours watching videos on the mechanics behind robotic vacuums. And why shouldn't every book report be on the owner's manual automobiles? After all, he read the manual. Isn't that a book? If you want to know how to bypass the airbag in a car, Patrick can set you up. He can also take apart your cuckoo clock and reassemble it. Perhaps you will be lucky enough to have him ask permission before he does so. But if not, know that your cuckoo clock was probably off by 37 seconds and he has now fixed it. 

A long time ago, there were two little boys in my life. I love those boys and the men they are now. I love Patrick. Those boys are still super-special and being with Patrick reminds me of that time. Those boys remind me Patrick will be a successful adult, provided he survives childhood.

I also love my time with Patrick. On the way to school yesterday we discussed his "ex-girlfriend," and how that has changed his perspective of male-female relationships. He decided that referring to this girl as his "ex" gives her too much power, when he just wants her to go away. He doesn't want to be reminded she makes bad choices. Besides, Antonia is a better fit for him--just ask him. I happen to agree. #teamAntonia

This morning on the way to school, we talked about his secret Santa gift for a boy in his karate class (a can of Pepsi). He asked if a laser could cut through tungsten? Also, he wanted to know why saying "Bless your heart?" is not appropriate for school--may my brother someday forgive me because I explained this to Patrick. Then Patrick had me walk him to the crossing guard and turned around and hugged me in front of his entire school. 

Disappointing

This trip to Arizona has not gone as I was hoping. My brother's wife's mass was benign--best news of all. She can't drive, and honestly, she already does too much even with my help. Right now I'm charged with getting Patrick to and from school as well as to karate. Plus, I'm cooking dinner for the seven of us. I sneak in whatever else she will let me do. I don't mind. 

But the list of folks I really want to connect with is long and my time is short. For that, I'm frustrated. I don't want to be "that" friend who breezes into town and can't manage to see the important people in my life--because they are important. But not this trip, I guess. 

My brother was astonished that I wasn't coming back for my originally planned trip in January. "Why wouldn't you?" he asked. Um... I have a life in Texas. And responsibilities there. Plus, I am trying to build a community in my new home state. I'd like to be in my town long enough to try that out. But I don't see me heading home next week in time for what's left of our Christmas season and Marty's birthday (which I will probably miss), then being home long enough to handle a couple of loads of laundry, pet the cat and the dog and turn around and haul myself back to Phoenix. Even if I flew, the travel is still an undertaking and Arizona is no longer my home. 

One of the crazier coincidences is my friend Jane, who moved to Boise a few years ago, is also in town right now. I won't be seeing her either.

 

December's Plans

I'm currently heading to Phoenix. My brother's wife is having surgery today. She found out Tuesday and the doctor didn't want to wait around to see if the mass was going to get any larger. Prayers, vibes and all sorts of positive love would be appreciated. She's scared. My brother is scared.  

Originally, I was planning on coming in January for a couple of weeks for a pleasure trip. However, this is a "taking care of sister-in-law and keeping Patrick out of mischief" trip with bits of free time interspersed when neither need me. If you are on the West side, or have time to meet somewhere, please hit me up. I'd love to see you if I have time.

Squirrel offered me a plane ticket. I decided I didn't want to deal with airports in mid-December (my return time) and opted to drive. 

November Projects

I had a bit of time on my hands this past month. 

I took a sewing class. I learned how to make a snack mat. I don't like this one (don't look too closely at the thread lines), but it was useful to know how to sew the edging. 

I also made lounge pants for Marty. PSA: never sew plaids. Matching the stripes was a bear. 

I also took on a few sewing projects on my own: 

The cedar chest is 85 years old. The cushion was engineered and might I say, it came out great. I didn't have a pattern to work with. 

Yesterday morning I made another snack mat. I realize the reds don't match. I was practicing the mitered corners and wanted to try something small. Hence, the new snack mat. 

The mitered corner practice was because I finished my quilt. Actually, it is Bonus Dad's birthday present. I hope to get this mailed out this week. Putting the edging around it took a bit of practice (hence the snack mat). 

Because I had nothing better to do, last Saturday I made this. (The mitered corner edging put on yesterday after the snack mat practice). 

Saturday, I sent Bob, the guy teaching me to quilt, a note letting him know he created a monster. He told me to come on by Monday and he'd put this table runner on his quilting machine. That's Bob's hand on the quilting machine. Yesterday he texted me and said stop by. He gave me another bit of quilting fabric and said, "Make something else." Bwahahahahaha.... 

And finally, I've had horrible insomnia lately. So, this is what I've been doing in the middle of the night. That's blue chalk paint. I have enough of the paint left over to make a treasure box for my nephew Patrick. I bought this night stand for $10. I am sorry I don't have a "before" picture. The top was burned. The drawer pulls were missing and the entire thing was falling apart. 

I bought this bookshelf for $20. It was stained and then painted and then stained again. The drawer was essentially sawdust when I got it. I spent considerably more on stripper than I did on the actual bookshelf. Incidentally, my father made the lamp. 

A Happy Text

Suzy, one of the Church of Christ ladies and one of the Coronas just reached out and sent me a text. Was I up for coffee tomorrow? 

Hm... let me check my calendar... Let's see... I am mopping the floor at 6 a.m. Then feeding the cat. Between laundry and listening to my latest audio book, I can probably squeeze in a social event. I even offered to drive to Arkansas, which will be six miles away. 

My ego needed this boost. 

 

Turkmenistan has the Fourth Largest Natural Gas Resource on Earth

Tuesday night I had a zoom call with my 9 year old nephew, Patrick. We had a lovely discussion about how he felt he needed to change seats in his classroom because he doesn't want to sit next to his ex-girlfriend, who, according to him, makes "bad choices." 

Patrick also had a Power Point presentation about what was going on in his life that he shared. And when he was done with that, his father (my brother) suggested it was time for him to get his shower. However, Patrick said he had a video he just had to show me. And could he please, have a few more moments to take care of this? 

Twenty-five minutes later, I had sat through an enlightening video on Turkmenistan. There are about six million people in the country, which is the lowest population of all Asian countries. Their currency is Manat. The geography consists of a super-large desert in the middle of the country where nobody lives and the inhabitable areas on the outskirts.  

This time of year has been very difficult. This is my first Thanksgiving away from my brother and his family. It is also the first Thanksgiving without my father. So, if I had to be forced to watch a Turkmenistan video just to be with Patrick a little bit longer, so be it. I'd watch five videos with him just to have this time.  

Sleeping Would Be a Better Solution

 A small, but sizable, solution has been found regarding our, "need an extra room" dilemma. You see, I have horrible insomnia right now. I am wandering the house from about 2 a.m. until the rest of the family wakes. 

My issue is, there is nowhere to wander, as the house is small and set up for everyone to sleep at the same time. The sewing machine and computer are in the master bedroom, tucked away with sleeping Marty. Making noise in the greatroom, wakes up everyone. So, when it was warmer, and the melatonin had worn off, I just hung out in the garage, listening to podcasts and working on my latest woodworking project. November in Texarkana means 26 degrees at 2 a.m., so that really isn't a viable option. 

Saturday night Marty bought me a space heater. Not only is it a perfect alternative to nowhere to go, but the paint is drying faster on my latest dresser project. The only caveat came from Buckaroo, the family fire marshall: we need to have a "C" class fire extinguisher out there with me. It is a cheaper solution than expanding my house.

"Really Cool" Seems to be a Tad Bit of an Exaggeration

People in East Texas don't believe in Web sites and conventional news sources. They all do Facebook. You want to know the local Tex-Mex restaurant's menu (you really don't )? You want to know what the specials are this week at the farmer's market (you really do)? Accident on Interstate 30? Updates on tornadoes? Funerals? Homecoming king and queen? High school football score? Yep, all on Facebook's Texarkana Site.  

Additionally, these three posts showed up this week. 

Missing Bovine

Here Kitty Kitty

Nope, nope and let me be clear, NOPE. (picture taken 4 miles from my home)

 

An Invitation

I just got a phone call out of the blue from Cindy. She's one of the Church of Christ ladies and she happens to be one of the Cool Corona Girls. She wanted to invite me to join the Cool Corona Girls for lunch tomorrow. I would normally have said yes, but they are going to a predominantly seafood restaurant. Last (and the only) time I went inside this building I went into anaphylaxis. So, bummer. 

I did ask Cindy to please think of me again, next time when they go to a different place. She assured me she would. Squee! I'm just grateful to be wanted. 

It's been a long 11 months. 

Random Texarkana

It appears, me being from Arizona means that I have some sort of insight on the Arizona election races. 

I don't. 

However, that hasn't stopped the text messages from acquaintances this past Tuesday asking for my take on Katie Hobbs's victory over Kari Lake. 

Y'all's governor's race is the talk of small-town Texas. 

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I don't have a reasonable winter coat. I mean, I have a jacket. It will keep me warm. It's ugly but functional. I didn't think I'd need anything warm in November, because last year when I came out to look for a house (in December), the weather was in the 70s. 

Tuesday, while the high for the day was 39 degrees, I spent more time than I cared for looking for a new coat. Other than the two Goodwills, there are four places in town that sell woman's coats: Dillards, Penny's Burlington Coat Factory and Kohls. I found nothing I wanted to spend money on. I will stick with my ugly jacket for now. 

---

Also Tuesday, I went back to the dentist for my cleaning. The hygienist mentioned when she saw me two weeks ago it looked like I was having a "rough time." Yeah, let's go with that. 

Behind the scenes, I'm looking for a new dentist. On my to-do list is to see if my insurance will cover dentists in Arkansas. Or Arizona. 

My biggest dislike about Texarkana isn't the Mexican food, it is the medical community.  

---

My second-biggest dislike about Texarkana is the lack of good Mexican food. Marty and I tried a new "Authentic" Mexican restaurant last Friday night. Marty's enchiladas were covered in a "chipotle sauce," which was really Velveeta seasoned with cumin. My chili verde was as advertised, chunks of pork swimming in a green sauce. It was too salty, and the sauce tasted canned. We both liked my dish better than his, but I only ate three bites. Then, we made a pinky pact to stop disappointing ourselves with Mexican restaurants. 

Even Luna didn't want my leftovers. 

   

House Hunting Final Update

I found a house that met all our criteria! It had that elusive extra room. It was in the right area of town. It was in our budget. It had a laundry room and storage. It even had a this and a that. Plus, the widgets all worked. 

But, Marty poo-pooed the house anyway. Why? Well, the back yard didn't have a shed. And it looked like there were fence slats that needed to be replaced. I pointed out that there are slats that need to be replaced on our current fence as well. Marty wouldn't be swayed. As far as he was concerned, the house needed "too much work."  

I've been married 24 years. I'm fluent in husband-speak. Though it was his idea to find a bigger house, I see he's changed his mind, even if he hasn't realized it just yet. 

Unit 3

I went to my first Unit 3 meeting last week. 

What is Unit 3, you ask? It's ok. I asked too. 

Unit 3 is the unimaginative and vague name for the Catholic Lady's Auxiliary Group (my name for them) that helps out at the church, doing everything from bringing over the donuts on Sunday morning to coordinating Trivia Night. I have no idea why they are called "Unit 3."

Unit 3 is currently in a membership drive and cannot, for the life of them, figure out why nobody is jonesing to join. When I mentioned last week that perhaps nobody knows what Unit 3 means, the women looked at each other and then to me. "Good point!" one said. "We should change our name!" Another suggested. 

"But what about all of those women who know us by Unit 3?" The lone dissenter asked. I inquired who those women might be. Nobody could answer. 

A motion was made to vote on selecting some sort of new name at the next Unit 3 meeting. The motion passed and my belief in bureaucracy in a small town being just like bureaucracy everywhere else was reaffirmed. 

That said, the ladies in the group were pleasant and I enjoyed myself, however the dinner that came with the meeting was terrible. Who, I ask, puts--and I'm not making this up--frozen tater tots in soup? However, there was copious amounts of red wine flowing for those who partook (I didn't). Perhaps it covered the taste of the tater tot soup? 

I have felt a need to help out at my church, and this Unit 3 group is how it is done. I have no attachment to any decision (including changing the name). I just want to meet a few folks and be a part of the community. I do see some red flags I see no reason to be quiet about (like asking the parishioners to pay for some of the expenses the Unit 3 ladies cover). But I'll wait until a meeting or two has passed before I stir anything up. 

Polly's Victory

There are about 40 students in Texarkana College's Music Program. Polly was one of five who were hand-selected to audition for the 2023 Texas Allstate Choir. Friday, the one soprano (Polly), two altos, baritone and tenor drove to somewhere in central Texas to audition with a litany of other college students from around the state. 

It appears all those years of voice lessons have paid off. Polly made it. Come February, she will be performing in San Antonio as a Soprano I.

I would say, of all of us, Polly has been the one who has thrived the most from this move. 

Thursday Gratitudes

Thursday, I managed to make it to the weekly Catholic Bible Study. In addition, on my way there, I had the pleasure of visiting with one of my Arizona friends while I made the drive. A sweet start to my day. 

Though I knew about the Catholic Bible Study, I hadn't been going. The idea of getting dressed before 10 a.m. had been daunting and holding me back. My main goal in attending was to get to better know the people involved. And, as Marty explained, I really ought to give the Catholics a try, if I'm willing to give the Church of Christ ladies a go once a month. 

As it turned out, I knew a good portion of the people there--they are the same ones I see at mass and at the Catholic Woman's Auxiliary (more on that later). But the one I knew best was probably Joey, the 20-something who is discerning to be a priest and who sat next to me at last Saturday night's Trivia night. Spend two hours sitting next to someone, finding out what kind of trivial knowledge they have and you might feel like they are your long-lost son, too.  

After I left, I met Leah for lunch. Leah is one of the Coronas and happens to be part of the Church of Christ prayer group crowd. We chatted for three hours and had such a good time, we decided to make lunch a monthly event. Also, there are plans in place to get our 20-something daughters together for a Saturday outing some time in January. 

Of all the people I've met in Texarkana, I feel very comfortable saying, Leah is probably my first true friend. We hit it off months ago at the Corona night and have kept in touch since. This was the first time we've gone out on our own. 

As a side note, this Texarkana move has brought to the forefront what a great deal of gratitude I feel when I go out with someone new. I realize that person wants to spend time getting to know me. That's a huge honor. I feel the same with my Arizona friends who call me out of the blue to say hello. They take a few minutes out of their to chat. It means the world. 

A Shout-Out

 Happy Birthday my dear friend. May your day be filled with happiness and joy. 

The Christmas Quilt

I mentioned a while ago, Bob the Quilter is showing me how to quilt. Yesterday I finished the front--ignore the strips coming off the side. Those will be gone soon. What I have left to do is the backing and the filling, both done on Bob's machine. However, I'm thinking about adding a border around the outside as well. Maybe? 

At any rate, the hard part is done. And I gotta tell you, I'm kinda proud of my work here. Lining up those columns and rows is harder than you'd think.  

My goal is to get this done by early December and send it to Bonus Dad in time for his 80th birthday. 

The Trash Pandas*

In an effort to be social with more than just the Church of Christ ladies, I dragged Marty to a "spaghetti" dinner and trivia event at our church Saturday night. And to be fair, Marty was a good sport, given he had made the Dallas run that day to restock on peanut butter and coffee. 

Polly is well-known at the church because of her affiliation with the choir. Somehow, word has gotten around that Polly's mom is at home and has nothing to do during the day. Therefore, every member of the woman's auxiliary--who were running the event--came up to me during the dinner to introduce themselves and invite me to next Thursday's meeting. As for me, I am 100 percent on board with joining if I can be in charge of the food, ensuring nobody again is forced to eat spaghetti, combined with--and I'm not making this up--Rotel, cream of chicken soup, rotisserie chicken and covered with velveta then baked until gross. 

Anyway, the trivia event was to raise money for a woman's shelter somewhere in the area. Every table was it's own team. After we got our food, we were joined by Joey, who is thinking about being a priest, which is really too bad. The Catholic Mother in me sees that he and Polly would have hit it off. We were also joined by Father, our church's pastor. I had no idea Father knew Polly was our daughter. He told Joey what a beautiful voice Polly had. 

Father is a hoot. He suggested our team's name of the "Trash Pandas." Most teams picked names like "Saints," or "Holy Rollers" (this was a church event, after all). Nope. We were the Trash Pandas. And let me tell you, We Trash Pandas did really well. We didn't win the final pot--who knew Mount Mitchell was in North Carolina? But we held our own, and landed in 4th place out of 16 teams. The top four teams all had one point differences. 

I don't see me giving up the Church of Christ gang any time soon, but it is nice to expand my horizons. 

*It turns out a "trash panda" is a racoon. I don't know if this is a southern phrase or not. I'd never heard it before Saturday night.    

I Didn't Sign up for Tornadoes

Val, my sewing teacher, sent me a text Friday night. I'd just come back from walking to City Hall paying my water bill. It had been sprinkling on and off. The sky had been gray but whatever, it's November. Plus, I was talking on the phone to a dear friend, and wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings. 

Anyway, Val's text said that I needed to prepare. Please make sure my phone is fully charged, my windows in my car and home are completely secure and I have a "safe place" to shelter if it is necessary. However, she didn't exactly explain that last part. She also mentioned, I want to unplug my sewing machine, television and computers. And then, without further explanation, she wished me luck.  

Friday's thunderstorm was epic. I've lived through my fair share of monsoons, but nothing like what I experienced here in Texarkana. Before Friday night, I'd been in been in one tornado in my life. And after Friday night, I think I've still been in one tornado. I know we had winds--did we ever! But they were "straight-line" winds, from what I understand, means just as strong and could carry a cow, but the winds weren't swirling. 

Polly, our weather nerd, kept Marty and I apprised of the situation, following the wind in real time on a radar program she found. If she hadn't been doing so, the alerts we were getting every 5 minutes also would have done the trick. Plus, Facebook has a great Texarkana community that was also letting the masses know what was going on.  

We didn't shelter in place, but a couple of times I did edge to the laundry room in anticipation. Although, it should be said, none of us felt the need to hang out near windows. By the time Buck got home from work, the storm had passed, but the power was out. It stayed out for 12 hours. That was the extent of drama. However, Marty is wary the tornadoes, plus the critters is going to make me move back to Arizona.  

Here are some of the pictures. The biggest tornado hit three states. That "biggie" was about 18 miles from my house. The closest one was five miles from my house. 

See the strip of five tornadoes on the right? The top two are the closest to my home. 

I Still Can't Chew

I hate the doctors in Texarkana. There, I said it. 

And now, I hate the dentists as well. 

This past week, I had a loose filling "fixed" but some sadist who got hold of my mouth. If you want to know what happened, watch "Marathon Man." Or for a lighter version, check out "Little Shop of Horrors."* 

I'm still swollen like a puffer fish and I'm living on protein shakes. Additionally, I called my old dentist in Mesa and left a long-winded message letting him know how much I missed him and that he is definitely the best dentist that ever lived. Because he is. 

At this point, I'm thinking it would be worth the air fare to fly back if I ever have a dental emergency. I guarantee I'm looking for a new local dentist. 

*Don't watch them, use your imagination instead. 

House Hunting Non-Update

I'm not as picky as I may sound, but I'm picky enough not to want to spend my money, uproot myself and change houses just for the sake of of having any bigger house. After all, God willing, my kids will eventually move out. So far nothing interesting has come along that Marty and I even want to view in person. Oh, there have been bigger houses, some on main roads, some out of our price range and even some that don't have more rooms than the ones we have now. There have even been bigger houses with more rooms yet smaller kitchens, weird layouts, more repairs and less storage. 

I like having a one-story home with no repairs (my current home is in great shape!), a reasonable layout and a nice kitchen. The storage is so-so. We have a linen closet finally, so progress.  

At any rate, we aren't moving on the new house thing very quickly. 

Before and After

 Let me start by saying this picture is deceptive. Here is the "before" picture of our greatroom. 

In this photo, thanks to the magic of cell phone cameras, the wall color doesn't look as dark as it was. However, our home was extremely dark. What's worse was that the house isn't terribly large and the color made the home feel confining. 

The blue wall color was more like this. 

This color. On every wall. 

Though a lovely color, it was a bit much for a small space and a quite suffocating. Couple that with the fact that sunlight seems to bypass East Texas and you might understand why I now own two SAD lamps and still wanted to scream as I wandered my home in search of a cheery space. 

While it took our painters four six maddening days to get our four rooms painted, the work is more or less done. I don't have everything put back. I have curtains on order for the window next to the fireplace--the other ones were a garish mustard-brown. My mantle is still bare, waiting for pictures and my father's stained glass to be set back, as are the walls in my kitchen and bedroom. However, the new color is cheery. Now our home has much more light. We took the original paint color and lightened it 75 percent.  

As a point of trivia, I'm under the impression Tessa picked the paint color when she listed the house last year and ordered some minion to paint it. I've often questioned what she could have possibly been thinking. If we sell, I'm not painting it back to that color. 

Here's the after picture. Also because of the magic of cell phone cameras, this wall color looks darker than it is. Think of it as a whisper of blue. It cheers up the rooms. I can live with this color. Or, the next owner can find someone to paint over it if they can't live with it. 

 

 

This Past Week

Me on Day 2

Marty and I are debating if we want to add on to our current home or buy another. This week we had painters come over and paint the: 

1. Greatroom

2. Kitchen

3. Master bedroom

4. Master bathroom

I'm told that my house is approx. 1,600-1,700 square feet (I think it is closer to 1500, but that's just from practicing real estate for 20 years, but what do I know?). For this five-member crew, it should have taken a day. Maybe two. When the drug user was fired and then there were four of them, it still should have taken a day, maybe two (it wasn't like the drug user was working anyway). Instead, the project took four days. FOUR DAYS! I'm reasonably sure, I could have painted the entire thing myself in two. I'm thinking I should have. 

They aren't technically done. What's left is screwing back outlet covers (once we find the screws which weren't with the outlet covers), reassembling the front door--which was put on incorrectly, and hanging up the curtains. And let's not even discuss the doorbell. All of this extra stuff sounds simple if they would have just kept the parts together. 

I told Marty today, if I can't handle painters in my home for four days, I'm not sure I can handle a construction crew working here for an indeterminant amount of time adding a wing to my home. 

Edit: they took two more days in "touch-ups." They didn't get all the touch-up places, but I really don't want them back here. I will finish myself at a later date. 

I'm Sticking to Dessert from Now On

Every Church of Christ prayer meeting comes with a dinner. Sunday night's food theme was "Sloppy Joe's." Sloppy Joes are a ground beef or loose-meat sandwich, generally swimming in tomato sauce and served on a hamburger bun. Right? Could someone please confirm that I'm not crazy.

Suzie, the organizer (a Corona and someone I just adore), was asking for dinner contributions. On her list was "chopped pork," "potatoes," "olives" and "onions." 

Bonus Mom taught me not to show up empty handed to these kinds of events, and I just can't seem to shake this. However, I realized how limited my Texan palate must be when just I couldn't figure out the food list. 

"Do they mean pork loin cut into chunks?" I asked Marty as we looked the message. 

"Possibly, but is it seasoned with something specific?" 

"But that isn't a sloppy joe." I pointed out. 

"You could bring buns," Marty suggested. 

"Nope, it doesn't appear buns are on the list. Someone must have already gotten them," I said. "They did mention potatoes. That looks easy." 

"What kind of potatoes?" Marty asked. "Red? Yukon? Fingerlings? Mashed? Fried? Boiled? Scalloped?"

"There are also onions and olives on the list. I could bring those?" I countered. 

Marty asked, "Black or green olives? And are you looking at red onions or yellow onions? How do they want them cut?" 

"I'm bringing chocolate chip cookies." 

For the record, the meal served was barbecued pulled pork served over baked potatoes and garnished with green scallions and black olives. I ate at home and nibbled on one of Polly's cookies during the dinner. 

"One of Us"

Yesterday I went to another (my third I think?) Church of Christ prayer meeting. To be honest, there is less prayer group and a lot more women socializing for a couple of hours. The meetings are held at Deb's house, whose house is slightly larger than mine--so maybe 1700 square feet? There had to be 20 of us--which was the smallest group I'd seen since I started going. At this rate, I'll be spending another 6 months learning names. However, I felt welcomed and was able to hold my own in friendly conversations. 

As I'm part of the Facebook Messenger group for this monthly event, I have been reading along when someone posts. Last night, I said something about not wanting to comment on something in the Facebook thread, as nobody really knows me. "Nonsense!" Deb, my hostess, said. "You are one of us!" 

More Critters

The mole is impaled and flails in place, 
 until Luna eats it or Marty removes it. 

Next Door Neighbor Ken tells us that the way to get rid of moles is with
"mole traps," which look incredibly inhumane (as if poison was much more pleasant). Ken has caught 5 moles in the past week alone. He estimates between our two yards we have about 300 more to go. He and Marty talked features and benefits of the different types of mole traps today and what we supposed to look for when we purchase them. . 

Ken also tells me that what is digging up my front yard is not moles. The moles are hanging out in the back yard (or Ken's yard). What's digging up my front yard is--and I'm not making this up--armadillos. I can only imagine what will happen to my Amazon algorithm when I look up "armadillo traps," which I have no desire to do.  

I should also mention that Next Door Neighbor Ken told us he hasn't seen a copperhead in five months. So, we should be "okay."   

I'm Not Making This Up

On today's Nextdoor App:

"WHO'S MISSING TWO BLACK DONKEYS? The DONKEYS CAME UP TO MY HOUSE AT 3 AM! HAVE NOTIFIED BOWIE CTY SHERIFF. THEY ARE SAFE IN MY PASTURE WITH MY 2 HORSES."

The Train Interruption Didn't Phase Anyone

 

I'm not saying this because Polly is a Soprano I in the Texarkana Regional Chorale, I'm saying this because I am extremely impressed: the amount of musical talent in this small town is astounding. 

Last Friday night, the TRC performed an outdoor concert. There was some Offenbach, Andy Lloyd Webber (Phantom Of the Opera), Brahms, and a few other names of composers I'd never heard of. It was their first of two concerts for the weekend. 

Though it was outside, and in the picture, the stage and building look shabby, don't let that fool you. The concert was standing room only. The voices wonderful. The only glitch was the train that sped through, stopping the music for about five minutes. But, I guess that happens in a small town.   

Peppers: the Gateway to Social Events

Yep, I grew those and
about twice as many more.
 

Last week, I sent out feelers to the handful of local folks I knew, asking if they'd like a couple of jalapenos. I had plenty (still do--plus the ones still on the plants).

Laurel was one of the folks that said yes. I like Laurel. She is a long-time real estate agent, who happens to work for Tessa. I met her before I moved to Texarkana because she was directly involved in the purchase of my current home. She was also my roommate when I went to Vegas with the Ole' Brokerage last February. She was my rock, and had to endure me living through my father dying that week. I haven't seen her since I left. 

Anyway, not only did Laurel say yes to some peppers, but she also said, "hey, what are you doing for lunch?" 

And let me just say, Laurel's invite made my month. It was the first time someone in Texarkana though enough to initiate something with me. Other than the Church of Christ prayer meetings, I've been the one reaching out to random folks for the past 10 months. 

And, as a secondary bonus, later that day, Tessa asked if I wanted to go out for happy hour. TWO invites in one day from people who wanted to hang out with me. My sorry ego could get used to such a thing!

As much as I would have liked to go to happy hour, I had other plans. But it was nice to be invited.  

 

Weather Update

It's supposed to drop down to 30 degrees tonight. Tomatoes, broccoli and peppers are covered.  I got in touch with the sprinkler guy who told me not to worry about one night below freezing, when it is supposed to be in the 80s next week. He will take care of winterizing my sprinklers by the end of October. If I may translate: He'll get to it when he gets to it.  

Just in case, I turned them off anyway. Plus I covered my faucets. I guess that's supposed to happen around these parts when it is cold. 

The Futile Quest for Mexican Food Continues

Marty and I stepped away today to have lunch at TaMolly's. Like the sign warned us, it was Real. It was Fresh. It was Tex-Mex. It fit my definition about everything else about Texarkana. I didn't hate it. But I don't see me jonesing to come back. 

Generally, I order tacos at my first time in a new Texan Mexican restaurant. I figure that gives me an idea of what the meat tastes like. I was hungry enough to order the chicken chimi instead. I ate two bites and decided life was too short to eat dried out chicken. I brought the rest home for whomever feels like finishing my dish, which will probably be the dog. By the way, the beans were decent. The white sauce is a "sour cream" sauce, which tasted suspiciously like mayo and melted cheese.

Marty ordered the chili reyeno, which was filled with--and I'm not making this up--ground beef and was coated with--and again, I only wish I wasn't making this up--an avocado ranch dressing. 

But honestly, we should have re-evaluated our decision to eat there when we walked in and saw this metal statute. I pointed out that those are the wrong flowers for the saguaro.