Dinner with Abby

About a week ago, I met Abby for dinner. Abby, for those of you who are playing along, was my assistant for the brief time I worked at the Ole' Brokerage. She's in her 20s and quite delightful. 

She'd put off dinner a couple of times because of finances, and I finally put my foot down. "Let's go to Fuzzy's, grab tacos, and I will pick up dinner. We will call it your birthday dinner, so you don't feel like you have to pay me back." I texted when she admitted she was canceling because money was tight. 

I'd been the girl who was flat broke before. Having the opportunity to pay forward the generosity someone showed me at Abby's age thrilled me to no end. I picked Fuzzy's Tacos for two reasons. First, Fuzzy's has reasonable food. And second, it was far across town from the Ole' Brokerage. The likelihood of running into any of Abby's coworkers was minimal.  

Abby is doing well. She is unhappy with her job. She likes Tessa, but Tessa isn't doing much leading of her own company. Backstabby, the woman who threw me to the wolves and the reason I no longer work there, is becoming a problem for Abby. That's too bad. Abby and I discussed a few options and hopefully Abby will feel like she can look around. It's a small town. Tessa is well-known. There are challenges with that. 

I loved visiting with Abby. We've set up another dinner for later next month at a pizza joint near her house and also far from the Ole' Brokerage. I told her to bring her little boy next time if she wants. I'd love to meet him. 

Hobbies

To his credit, Marty Sunshine has strongly encouraged me to pursue my interests since we arrived in Texarkana. Honestly, I never had much time to do so when the kids were younger. Now I do. Because of this, I'm like a toddler in a toy store, running from here to there, looking at shiny, squeaking objects. I am strung-out on sensory overload.  

Currently, I'm working on Polly's birthday present. She's getting a chair for her desk. It was rescued from a thrift store and is being repainted and a new seat has already been put on. I woke up at 4:30 this morning to finish it, only to find Polly wide awake. So, hopefully I can try again tomorrow at 4:30 a.m. 

I have a few other furniture projects stacking up in the garage. Plus, Mrs. Meadows gave me this wooden box that needs a bit of love. its pretty ugly right now. I have most of what I need to make it less so--though I'm going for a rustic--including new hardware I ordered through Amazon. Hopefully I will finish that project this weekend.  

In addition to the furniture, there's the ever-evolving garden. It is still alive, and I'm making plans for next year. Also, I hate the way the front garden looks, so Marty is on notice that we will be making some drastic changes this fall. 

 Of course, there's the great American novel. That's going well. More on that some other time. 

And then, there's my latest obsession: sewing. I estimate I watch about 3,873 sewing videos every day. I have a small house, and way too many sewing supplies now. Amazon has even brought me bulk zippers and cloth this past week. I am limiting my pilgrimages to Hobby Lobby to once a week. 

This is a birthday present for my friend Bliz. I'm seeing her in August. There were about 16 other variations of this bag that I made which didn't come out this well. This one though! 

One Year Ago

For grins I looked back at posts on this blog from a year ago. Life has certainly changed for the Sunshine family. 

A year ago Dad was hospitalized, his first of two in three months and the beginning of the end. It was the start of the crazy twice a week drives across town to meet with Dad's doctors. I would take much more of this crazy just to have Dad here with us. 

A year ago NewBoss was in rare form and driving Marty's department nuts. Incidentally, by mid-January this year, more than half of the 13 people in Marty's department quit. A few weeks later NewBoss was demoted and Marty's department has a new fearless leader as well as a bunch of new college grads. Incidentally, the new fearless leader regularly contacts Marty and the other members of the team who left, asking questions and asking for guidance.  

Marty does not miss his old job in the least. He is peaceful and happy and loves where he works now.

A year ago, I sat Marty down and explained that he needed a vacation. He'd taken one day off since July 2019. (The day off was a family picnic in the Flagstaff area during the lockdown.) I wanted him to go with me to Michigan. The discussion lasted three weeks. The vacation did him good.   

A year ago Buckaroo worked at Amazon, 30 miles from my home. I got up at 4:30 in the morning to drive him to work. Marty picked him up at 5:30 in the evening (our choice to drive him). I hear gas is over $5 a gallon in Phoenix right now. Buck quit this job last August to go to school. If he hadn't, he would have had to quit just because of the gas prices.  

A year ago Polly broke up with her fella of that moment. The fella's mom and I still talk and I still see his posts on Insta. He's a nice guy and we all agree he will make a great significant other for someone else.

A year ago I was dealing with the crazy of the Arizona real estate market. My clients at the time included Carla, an entitled woman who convinced her husband to sell his condo to pay off her debts. She was abusive and made me question my life choices. The agent on that particular transaction (Cruella) was probably in the top three of the most horribly unprofessional agents I ever worked with. 

Another potential client was a woman who wanted to sell her home so that the family could move closer to her teenaged daughter's crush. That "Christian" lady would lie to my face and scream foul if I pointed out the inaccuracies of her statements. I referred her out to someone else. 

Last year I decided I didn't need clients like this any more. Nor did I want to work with unpleasant real estate agents. After 18 years, the burn-out had gotten the best of me. The only reason I wasn't looking for employment and sticking with real estate at that time was I needed the flexibility my job offered to help take care of my Dad. 

Our time of transition here in Texarkana has been unusual. We have a lot more quiet. Our lives are slower. I'm happy Marty is at peace. I'm glad Buckaroo and Polly have less than four mile commutes. I am thrilled they are finding their way and creating a life here. 

As for me, I'm just relieved I'm not selling houses to crazy people.  

Small Town Life

 Growing up in Phoenix, there are things that astonish me. 

1. I fill up my car once every three weeks.  

2. People are nice. I can't stress this enough. I also cannot stress how I didn't realize how un-nice people in the big cities are and how I just didn't see this until I lived in a small town. Eeep! I was one of those!  

3. People are helpful. That's different than nice.  

4. It's a desert for quality resources. Folks tend to have lower standards for furniture, goods, etc. Even simple items like spray starch can be hard to find. If it isn't at one store, it probably won't be at four others. I've come to the conclusion that my sole purpose in life is to keep Amazon in business.  

5. In Texarkana, I question the quality of medical and mental health care. I said what I said.

6. Food quality isn't great. I started clarifying my point and ended up writing four paragraphs. More on this later. 

7. Crime isn't an issue. We often forget to lock our doors. That goes for the car doors in parking lots too.  

8. Community is a thing. Our Neighborhood app is filled with, lost dogs, any idea when the First Baptist revival will be?, please buy my raffle ticket, Hi, I'm new here, can you tell me where I can get good childcare? and Would someone be available to help me move a couch. On that last one, it was me. We had about 12 volunteers. 

9. There are no bike paths, but the drivers aren't crazy. I've taken to riding my bike again. There are tons of hills. To get any mileage at all, it requires me to ride on the main roads and out of the neighborhood. At first, I was nervous about the traffic, but I'm realizing drivers are more mindful around here. I do wish the roads were a bit wider though. 

10. It is essential to learn to co-exist with the critters. Well, most of the critters. I did ask Marty to put down another round of Snake-Away last weekend. But, we have squirrels, possums, turtles, skinks, racoons, foxes, deer and probably a host of other critters I don't know about. This isn't just where I live, this is throughout Texarkana. 

11. Texarkana was horribly affected by the lockdown. The mall is almost empty. Many commercial buildings are empty. I'm told of how this business and that business were "the" places to go before 2020. However, in the past few months, we've seen a lot of commercial growth. The Texarkana mall has gotten a few new stores. A Conn's Furnishings is going in next to the Hobby Lobby. We have a QT slated to go in right next to my house (YES!!!). Civic clubs are starting back up.  Where I live, in Wake Village, they are planning some sort of fall festival this year for the first time in three years. Also, we've had a new restaurant and a new store open in the town circle in the past two months. Given Wake Village is 1.5 square miles, this is progress. I hear the Texarkana economic development and chambers (both TX and AR) are looking at ways to make the downtown more of a gathering place.  

12. I don't know anyone, yet I know people. I don't have a social circle, yet I have resources. For example, Amanda who is in charge of the adult education classes e-mails me and keeps me apprised of potential yoga classes. I'm sure she does this for others too. But, when I went into see her, she remembered me. She knew the area code of my phone number and my e-mail address by heart. Ms. Cathy at the church has talked to me about sewing and answered a few questions. I would LOVE to get to know Ms. Cathy better. The opportunity hasn't come up. Tessa the Realtor knows everyone. If I need a this or that. I can find folks. 

The Texarkana Book Club

Yesterday, I went to a book club meeting. It was my first since I came to Texarkana. The group meets once a month and is sponsored by the local library. I joined because I like to read and my social life is pretty pathetic. 

When I found out what we were reading, I was intrigued. It was written by a local author, who was supposed to come to the meeting. What fun to meet a member of Texarkana's local writing community! Fortunately, the author did not show up, so I didn't have to fib and say I didn't have time to read the story. I would love to meet her though. I am still interested in meeting a local author.  

There were 12 of us, with the average age probably close to 78. Of the 12, nine loved this book and gushed accordingly. One person was on the fence and then there were two of us (both our first meeting), who recognized the book for the drivel it was. 

The story screamed, "Self-Published First Novel and Author Didn't Pay for a Copy Editor." All 12 of us did agree on that point. I did ask the crowd if someone could explain the motive for killing off the main character's brother--the premise of the story--and nobody could. Someone said it was about drugs. Another pointed out there was nothing about drugs in the story. Someone else said it was a mob hit. Two others said they didn't remember anything about the mob in the story. Yeah... there was no motive. But they "loved" the book nonetheless. 

Afterwards, I talked to the only other woman who was remotely my age (she was the one on the fence about the book). Joy asked me if I was either an English teacher, editor or writer. She said listening to me, I must be one of those and she couldn't decide. Joy was an English rhetoric professor and has a background in creative writing. We had a lively conversation outside of the library and decided that we should continue at lunch next week. 

A spinoff second social event!

Joy also told me that this book club crowd always has sympathy for local authors and will never say they don't like the book--even when it's drivel. Because of this social custom, she couldn't bring herself to say the book was drivel. Just that she wasn't, "sure about it." And more to the point, she felt my assessment was spot on.  

Next month's book I hear is much more interesting. However, I will be in Michigan and won't be making book club. So, I will see these folks again in September. 

Grateful

 Grateful for those friends in Phoenix that keep in touch. 

I Hear the Texarkana Knights of Columbus Throw a Great Party

Deb from the Coronas invited me to a prayer group last Sunday night. Again, with a non-existent social schedule, I decided, why not?, and headed over. Being Catholic, I had no idea what to expect with a Southern ladies' "prayer group." But, I figured it was a chance to get out of the house and meet a few people. How bad could it be? 

From the Coronas group on Friday night, Deb (the hostess) and only one other women were in attendance. I was glad to see Leah. I thought she and I had hit it off pretty well Friday night. Sunday she talked about future plans with her daughter and Polly and I. So, who knows!?  

As far as the "prayer group," there had to be about 40 Church of Christ women in attendance (and one Catholic--me). Dinner was potluck and lasted an hour and a half. Folks introduced themselves, asked how I managed to land in Texarkana and introduced me to others. It was a far cry from my experiences with the Southern "Christian" harpies at the Ole' Brokerage. Nobody cared I didn't go to their church. 

The "prayer group" part came after and it was what one would expect, given the name. Talks about Jesus, etc. This part didn't last nearly as long as the dinner or the social time afterwards.  I wished my church did something like this. But then again, my church has Knights of Columbus beer kegger potlucks (I've only attended those in Phoenix, but I've heard legendary tales about the ones here). That's not something you are going to find at a proper, Southern, Church of Christ, ladies' prayer group. 

I had a good time, laughed often and left with my emotional social cup full for the first time in seven months. Many women--even those who didn't get a chance to say hello during the evening came up to me as they were leaving, inviting me again. If Deb or Leah extend another invite (I have no other way to know if there is a meeting) I would certainly come. 

A Night with the Stars

Last Friday, I got a text from Tessa: "Want to come to Fuzzy's for tacos and then to Deb's to play cards tonight. We are meeting at 6. You in?" 

I was torn. Honestly, as much as I needed to get out of the house, I wasn't in the mood. The last two weeks had been absolutely awful. I was in no mood to socialize. 

I'd been invited twice before to Deb's house. The group calls themselves the, "Coronas," as they started getting together once a month starting around March of 2019. Both times I joined them, I had an absolute blast. However, I'd heard nothing since. 

In the past three months, I'd played through all sorts of scenarios of how I must have done something to offend one of them. Maybe it was because I was Catholic? All of them, sans Tessa (who is Baptist and Deb's best friend) are from the local Church of Christ. They've know each other for years. Maybe because I wasn't Southern enough? Maybe I didn't do this or that right? Maybe it was nothing at all but just circumstances? I had no idea. Frankly, I found these ladies down to earth--even Tessa who puts on the, "I'm the Queen Realtor" vibe at her office is not this person with the Coronas. But nonetheless, no other invitation had shown up. 

Because Texarkana social opportunities are few and far between, I agreed, figuring if it didn't go well at Fuzzy's I'd bail. To make matters even more awkward, neither Tessa nor Deb showed up for tacos. But the rest of the crew did. To their credit, at dinner, the rest of the Coronas (who had no idea I was showing up) were gracious and friendly. I knew enough of the conversation basics at dinner to hold my own that I braved heading to Deb's house afterwards. 

At Deb's we played some sort of domino game. We went from around 7 until after midnight. I don't think I've laughed so hard since I moved here. The woman I sat next to playfully picked on me. Apparently, she's one of those ultra-competitive types who hates to lose. I live with three of those, held my own and dished it right back at her, much to the respect of everyone else. 

At some point I thanked them all for such a fun time, telling them it is hard to meet people when one has moved to a new town after living in the same place for 50+ years. Deb and her crew instantly invited me to join them for the Monet exhibit in Dallas next week. Unfortunately, I can't make it. 

After we broke up, I went over to Polly's work--she's the night auditor at one of the local hotels--and chatted with her for a while. Her schedule is such that I don't see her much these days. Polly's hotel is only a few blocks away from Deb's house. 

Will another Corona invitation come forward? I don't know. But I'm hopeful. 

Citizen Texan

I finally got around to getting a driver's license today. This process was prolonged because of the 30+ years of Arizona Department of Motor Vehicle PTSD I've suffered. 

You see, in Arizona, one doesn't merely walk into a DMV location, fill out a form, and get a license. Oh no! One packs a lunch, leaves a forwarding address, makes plans for their plants to be watered, pets to be fed and brings a paperback (I'm from an older generation). Then, they fill out the requested forms, sit on a very hard chair and wait their turn until a government employee behind a glass barrier calls for them. If the employee behind the glass barrier who calls for them smiles in any way, it is fair to assume the applicant has gone to the wrong location. 

The non-smiling employee behind the glass barrier will then ask a bunch more questions, give a lot more paperwork, take the applicant's money and make them sit back down and wait. My best record is 200 pages read one Tuesday afternoon waiting for my license. By the way, for those who aren't in the know, some time in the past several years, Arizona changed their driver's licenses' expiration dates to one's 65th birthday and then have to be renewed periodically afterwards. So, this isn't a process that happens very often anymore. Fortunately.  

The other reason I waited so long is simple vanity. You see, for some unfathomable reason--and I assure you, people smarter than myself have put thought into this--in my third week living in Texas I got a hair cut. The owner of the shop assured me she'd been in business 27 years and knew what she was doing. I looked at the reviews ahead of time, seeing high accolades for the shop owner (in hindsight, probably from bald family members) and when I walked in, I specifically asked for the owner. 

And you know what that awful woman did??? She gave me a mullet. 

No kidding. I've been walking around with a mullet for the past six months. Every so often, I hack at my bangs, trying to make the hair on the side seem longer than the hair in the front, but it doesn't change the horror that was done. My stylist in Arizona has seen me twice since this happened (once after Dad passed away, and once in May when I took Buck to visit a friend). My new stylist here saw me today and can't figure it out either. The best the two stylists could do with what I have left is give me something like the "Rachel" from Friends. I figure I have six more months before the whole thing grows out.

At any rate, I got my hair cut and styled today and then went straight over to the DMV. I brought a book. However, from the time I walked in until the time I left, it was about 12 minutes. That includes waiting in line behind two other people. I filled out my forms. Took my eye test. And I watched everyone behind the counter smile and laugh, making me question if I was indeed, getting a driver's license. They assured me I was.