My Studio Apartment

When I was tasked with buying our Texarkana house, there were circumstances. 

1. We had a firm, four week deadline. 

2. There were five houses on the market that fit our criteria. Even with one functioning shower, this was the best of the bunch. 

3. There were few rentals, none of which fit my criteria (plus we have a bankruptcy, cat and dog--none of which are music to a landlord's ears.). 

4. I didn't know the Texarkana neighborhoods as well as I wanted to. 

So, I played it safe. We got the house on Arizona Avenue in Wake Village. I do not regret this decision. My family doesn't either. The house is cozy, yet bigger than anything Marty and I grew up in--combined. The house is smaller than what the kids grew up in, but they have repeatedly told me they don't mind the change. The house is easy to clean, mostly uncluttered and homey. 

However, there are elements of this house that just don't work for me. And I mean only for me. I have four adults living under one roof and one primary living space. Therefore, Buckaroo's gaming desk, Polly's piano and Marty's TV are all in a small communal space. This leaves me to read, write, sew and watch baseball in the bedroom until 10 p.m. when Marty wants to retire for the night. Polly and Buck are still up, doing their activities. My choices are go to sleep at 10 (sigh) or sit in the great room with Buck talking to his pals and shooting things and Polly practicing singing. It doesn't make for good creativity for me. 

Don't get me wrong, I want my children to be who they are. I embrace that. Nor do I want Buck to move his desk into his bedroom. I do better being relegated to the bedroom than he would. 

In addition to all that, the paint on the main walls is dark and sunlight seems to bypass my windows. I miss sunlight. Having the interior lights on in the middle of the day is such a weird experience coming from the desert. Also, our biggest window is fogged over. I will eventually get it replaced. It's on the list. 

This backsplash is on two walls. 

My kitchen has a weird brown disco-looking backsplash. Mr. Tony is replacing that in November. It was the soonest he could work me in. Chris, my painter, will probably paint the interior in December. It depends on my budget. We also need a roof. But, it is more like we need to start thinking about replacing the roof. We knew it when we bought the house. 

And, if I'm being perfectly honest, I would like new flooring because the kitchen tile is cracked. Additionally, gutters would be great and a new garage door that doesn't moan when I press the button is probably somewhere in the future plans. All that said, this was still the best house for the buck when we bought. We knew we'd be putting in a bathtub and an air conditioner (both have been done). 

However, it is getting depressing living in my bedroom all the time. 

 

The Great Transcript Hunt

When I was living in Mesa, I became enamored with ceramics. The closest studio I can find around here is 70 miles away, in Marshall Texas. My next best option is Texarkana College. They offer ceramics classes. From what I've seen, they look like they would work beautifully for me. Of course, I wouldn't consider taking them until the spring, when in-state tuition would be available. But yes!!!! A creative outlet. 

My other creative outlet has been actually applying for Texarkana College. You see, in order to take one ceramics class, Texarkana College wants my high school transcripts. Mind you, I have a college degree. Come to think of it, I have two. They want those as well. I can give Texarkana College my college transcripts. However, I'm finding that getting the high school transcripts are much more of a challenge. 

My big challenge is that my freshman high school year was 40 years ago. I went to three high schools. And I didn't start high school on time, which means that I have three quarters and one week of a freshman year. We were homeless and I wasn't in school for the first 8 weeks of my freshman year.  Essentially, my mother had to work something out with the high school to convince them to enroll me and not shoot me back to 8th grade. In addition to having to explain this to Texarkana College, I actually have to get the high school in Vermont to answer the phone so I can ask them for my transcripts. But Tex College is already warning me that my freshman year in high school BACK IN 1982 might not be "valid" because I missed the first 8 weeks of school.  

I haven't bothered with my high schools in Phoenix yet. I'm thinking if I can't get the Vermont high school situation straightened out, there's really no point in getting the transcripts from the Arizona high schools. 

I've thrown out another idea to Texarkana College. Just accept my college transcripts. Or--here's a thought--just let me pay for the ceramics class and get on my merry way. If they want me to test into English 101, fine. If they want me to take a placement, aptitude or any other kind of tests, that's cool. I'm willing to jump through those hoops as well. But hunting down records from my 3/4 of my Freshman year has become darn near impossible. 

Writer's Groups

So, after some serious consideration, I started a second writing group. Now don't get me wrong, I love my first writing group. We meet once a week. We are committed. I'm invested in the other members' characters. Annie, from South America, just sent me a note asking for an English definition to an action she didn't know how to describe. All four of us have these kinds of chats. Often. 

The reason I started a second writing group was two-fold. First, I wanted to work with other kinds of stories (for myself and others). My novel isn't going anywhere. I've been working on it all day, as a matter of fact. My Wednesday group is great. But, I wanted write something different once in a while. This new group gives me that opportunity. This past week, I posted a short story to the group. Perhaps I will post it here as well once its tweaked. 

The second reason is I have a friend who is writing a novel and wanted to join a writing group. There is simply no room in our first group for her. I like hanging out with other writers. This friend is stretching and growing in her journey. I can't wait to explore this with her. In addition, I found two other folks who want to write. They both seem to have diverse backgrounds. One is in California. The other in Pennsylvania. We are meeting for the first time this week. Looking forward to it.

By the way, if you are writing your 500 words a day and want someone to read what you wrote, hit me up. I will always read for other writers.  

Slow Spokes (or Spin Sisters)

 A while back, I discovered there are two biking groups in Texarkana that are considered "no drop." The Slow Spokes and the Spin Sisters. "No drop," by the way, means the groups (allegedly) go the speed of the slowest rider. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to go on any rides before Saturday for a plethora of reasons. These reasons include: time, temperature, elevation and distance.

It used to be that I could handle a 20 mile bike ride. However, there were never hills involved and I was good at dodging city traffic. But, that was last summer. So, getting back on my bike after a good long while held some intimidation. Plus, for whatever reason, the Texarkana side of Texas is quite hilly and the streets are narrow. 

However, all that changed this past week when I found out the Slow Spokes (or the Spin Sisters, I don't know which group) had a 12 mile ride that held promise. It looked so promising, that I drove out to the site a few days early to make sure the road wouldn't be too challenging. 

Saturday's ride turned out to be fun. However, the Spin Sisters (or maybe it was the Slow Spokes) had some birthday bash ride that was going to cover three states and most of the riders were going to that one. Well, most except me and my new, super-patient pal, Paul.

Paul and I rode from the Texas-Arkansas state line on some back road to Interstate 30. When we hit the Flying J truck stop, much against the creed of the Slow Spokes (or Spin Sisters) Paul went South on the overpass a few miles and finally got up to a good clip. I opted to turn around and head back. Paul got his speed in, turned back around and caught me about three miles later as I was passing the dead frog on the side of the road. Otherwise, he stayed with me as I went a steady 12 miles an hour.

When we got back to the cars, Paul asked me to come again. I asked him to encourage his wife to reach out--she rides at my speed. He said the Slow Spokes and Spin Sisters tend to do a Tuesday group ride around 6 p.m. every week that gets a lot of followers. He recommended I check it out. I may just do so. Hopefully there is someone else in that group who rides as slow as I do. 

After my ride, Paul went out for another turn back to the Flying J truck stop. I popped in my car and took a few pictures. 

 The Red River on the North, is the border between Arkansas and Texas. Highway 71 is also known as "State Line" road. It is also the border between Arkansas and Texas. So, where the bottom "71" happens to be is the North East corner of Texas. 

A common sight heading east in Texarkana (don't see as many "welcome to Texas" signs heading west across State Line road.). This one was on that country road I was on for my morning ride. I may go out there again this week and practice. 

Random Arkansas pictures on my ride. 

Meramec Caverns Photo Dump

On my way back from Michigan, I swung by St. Louis and saw Bliz. For her birthday I took her to Meramec Caverns, about an hour away. Of note, Jesse James--the outlaw--hid out in Meramec Caverns and was able to escape capture. 

This was my third time, Bliz's first. I'd go back again. But I happen to like caves. 

Random Michigan Photo Dump

This was my view the entire time I was there. 

Same view at sunset. 

Bonus Dad and I went several places, including a state park in Roger's City with a light house, ship wreck and the pilot house of the Calcite. 

That is the some of the above ground remnants of the Joseph Fay shipwreck.
The rest is in Lake Huron. The ship sank in 1905. 

The light house is called the 40 Mile Light House, because it was 40 miles from Mackinac Straight and 40 miles from Thunder Bay. Bonus Dad and I climbed to the top of the light house, which doesn't sound as thrilling as it was. Great history lesson and a better workout. 

 

Random Texarkana and My Brothers

I opened my mailbox twice in two days to find some sort of critter jump out of it. I did not sign up for critters. I think it was a lizard, but honestly, I was so freaked out that I didn't look before it scurried away. Thinking that this could not possibly happen again, I opened the mailbox again today to have the same thing happen. Lesson learned, someone else is grabbing the mail from now on. 

***

Today I ran errands that included: returning a purchase to Amazon via Kohl's, getting my backup sewing machine serviced, picking up my book from the library, finding highway 108 in Arkansas in preparation for Saturday's event (more on that later) and picking up Marty for lunch. Total time gone: 35 minutes. The same distance traveled in the Valley would have been 90 minutes. I still can't get over how much is crammed into such a small space. 

***

Tomorrow would have been my father's 85th birthday. Today some stranger to the family called all of us, trying to capitalize on my father's death. We were suspicious and the stranger has gone on his merry way. But in the mean time, grief took its toll. Both brothers, sensing I was upset from dealing with the stranger's shenanigans on the eve of my father's birthday, reached and sang the Big Bang Theory's "Soft Kitty," to me. When Squirrel called, he sang it and asked if I wanted to hear it again. I did. Then I told him we should sing it in a round. We did. It was terrible. But it is nice they have my back. 

So, Tessa Called

Tessa called last week. I'm still wondering why. She wanted to tell me she hired an assistant. I don't know if she thought I'd be offended (nope) or if she was just chit-chatting. Either way, that was the sum total of her purpose in calling from what I could tell. 

I told Marty about our surreal encounter. He asked if I was bothered she brought in someone new. "Not in the slightest," was my response. That place was so dysfunctional I never looked back. It will be dysfunctional whether Tessa has a new assistant or not. I want no part of that crazy train and my biggest regret is hiring Abby, who's stuck on it. She deserves better.  

All that said, I do like Tessa. She's grown on me. I get her. I'm also that introvert who lets few people in. I understand what she does for a living and how to run a business--something her agents don't understand (not a slight, but running a brokerage is different than selling houses). When Tessa and I get together, we rarely talk shop--which is why her call was so strange. Anyway, before we were hanging up, she said she'd love to get together when I get back, drink a glass of wine and catch up. I can do that. 

Last Day of Vacation

I'm hanging out at Bliz's house right now, camped on her couch while she primps before our outings. We are on a search today for Laura Scutters peanut butter (for me) and blood orange olive oil (for her). There are no words to describe the kind of friend who will take a day off from work to help me search for good peanut butter. She's been this kind of friend to me for almost 40 years. 

For her birthday (on Wednesday), I took her to Merimac Caverns. She'd never been, which was strange, because I'd been twice before. Missouri has a boat-load of caves, and now I'm on a mission to visit every one of them. 

Tomorrow I drive back home. I hear Texarkana has had some serious flooding. According to the Internet, thunderstorms are predicted my last three hours on the road. Oh goody. 

Pictures to come when I get back to normal life. 

Thoughts from Up in the Mitten

I've spent the past 12 days chilling with Bonus Dad. Being in Nowhere Michigan. This time has made me realize how grief-struck I've been this year. Not just leaving everyone I loved behind--which, gotta tell you, was harder than it sounds. But two months later I lost my father. The double-whammy has been a hard loss. Though most everyone I love is a phone call away, it kind of sucks not to have the luxury of seeing them when I can. 

All that said, I'm still up with Bonus Dad. Today we are heading two hours North to Roger's City to look at a maritime museum. It is actually our second maritime museum. We went to one in Alpina last week. Bonus Dad is a retired engineer. This is his kind of thing. I'm loving the history and the old technology too, so I guess it's my kind of thing as well. 

Yesterday we drove down to Saginaw to get Bonus Dad a new phone. He let me drag him to a quilting store and I must say, he was a very good sport about being stuck in there while I gawked and gushed over fabric. It was my third quilting store since I've been here. I now have enough fabric to make three quilts, all of which I'm planning to do.   

Pictures of my Michigan trip will come. I just haven't downloaded them off my phone. Be warned, most of them are of my view of Lake Henderson, which is right outside my window. It looks like glass right now, If it wasn't 60 degrees, I'd go outside and dip my toes in the water. 

On Thursday I leave this patch of paradise and travel to St. Louis to see Bliz. My overnight stay in Indiana isn't in an historic jail, but a Holiday Inn Express. As much as I would have liked to stay at the charming Air BnB again, it was just too far out of the way and it meant having to navigate Indianapolis at rush hour. I'm not up for that. Seeing Bliz is a nice byproduct of moving. This is our fourth visit in the past 12 months.  

In the past week, two Arizona friends reached out and asked if I had plans to come back any time soon. I'd really like to say yes. But I'm not sure. As much as I'd like to go back to Arizona and see my family and friends there it may have to wait a bit. Right now I have only a few windows of time open this fall to head back. Plus, I'm exhausted from traveling. I'm thinking it might be a good idea to stay in Texarkana and see if I can put down roots. 

A Night in the Jailhouse

I spent Friday night in the Bedford Indiana jailhouse. It was my half-wayish position between Texarkana and Lupton Michigan. And, if GPS had routed me through less questionable terrain, I might have arrived at my Air BNB 90 minutes earlier. 

At any rate, I stayed in the former Lawrence County Indiana jailhouse. It was built in 1906 and if you can figure out how to get there without going directly over the single mountain in Indiana, all the better. 

In the morning, my hostess packed me a portable breakfast of my choosing (I asked for fruit and cheese, but she was prepared to make omelets, crepes and corned beef hash had I wanted it) and gave me a quick tour. I stayed in the second floor tower (on the left in the first photo). At one time it had been an office and probably a holding cell. The actual jail was in the back of the building, and truly creepy. But, it is blocked off from the rest of this charming place. 

After my time up here in Michigan, I'm heading to St. Louis. I haven't decided if I'm going to stay at the Jailhouse again. The price is right. The hostess was sweet. The promised breakfast of my choice sounds interesting. But, it means driving through Indianapolis at rush hour and either taking the questionable mountain road back to the Interstate on my way to St. Louis, or driving about an hour and a half out of my way back to the Interstate in the morning, getting me into St. Louis at rush hour.

Simple Request

I talked to my nine year old nephew, Patrick, on Tuesday. He was starting fourth grade Wednesday. We discussed how excited he was, what he thought about his new teacher and where the gas cap is located on the new Nissan somethingorother. Patrick likes to stay up on these kinds of things. 

During our chat, Patrick asked what day he could expect me to swing by and pick him up after school. Because he needs keep that day open and not make other plans. 

At this time, I couldn't commit. But I promised him we'd work something out soon. 

 

Social Seeds

Prior to 2022, as an introvert, I would have told you my social life was fine. And it was. Growing up in the same metroplex I've lived in the majority of my life, comes with some advantages. Couple that with working in an industry where networking is paramount and having a homeschool support system, I had a healthy social structure. 

Living in a post-pandemic small town where the residents live here by choice and have known each other since birth, has really brought to light just how difficult making friends can be. Given I went to three high schools and had a crash course in making friends in my teen years, I thought I had this licked. Nope. Not even on a good day. 

However, the seeds I've planted are starting to sprout in different ways. First, the woman I took the sewing class from last spring has been e-mailing with me. She asked if I wanted to do a project together with her and present it to the class this fall. Sure! In addition to sewing, this woman and I are veteran homeschool moms with similar ideas about education and family.  

Deb, the woman who invited me to the Church of Christ prayer group last month reached out. They have another one scheduled for this month. Would I like to come as their token Catholic? Ok, she didn't add that last part. I would like to come, however, I'm going to be in St. Louis with Bliz, celebrating her birthday. Deb said she would stay in touch. Deb happens to be Tessa's best friend. Plus she also likes gardening and has a fabulous garden. 

Then there's Amanda. Amanda works at the college. She is in charge of Adult Education and knows me because I sign up for the sign painting classes and the sewing classes. She knows Buckaroo because he takes the martial arts class at the college. When I am there, we chat often about this and that and nothing in particular. Yesterday, I was at the college with Buck and she asked why I hadn't signed up for the focaccia making class this fall. I had mentioned it in passing that it looked interesting. Then she admitted that she signed up for it, because she was expecting we'd be doing this class together. 

Well now! That was news to me. Honestly, I know how to make bread. I don't need (kneed) to spend two hours learning this process with 9 other people. But what the heck! Amanda and I have a few things in common. She's pretty cool. Maybe I can convince her to get that yoga class going too.

Lunch with Joy

At last month's book club (and the first one I attended), I met Joy. We chatted outside the library for quite a while and decided to pick up our conversation over lunch the following week. I spent the week nervous, afraid she'd get busy or that she was just being polite and would reconsider. That level of insecurity happens when one has been by themselves in a small town for the past seven months. I promise. 

Anyway, Joy did not disappoint! We met at Cracker Barrel and had a wonderful lunch. She spent a few years in Phoenix as a child. Her dad just passed away. She has a crazy mother. And, she's a rhetoric professor and wanted to talk writing! 

Marty said it was like I won the new friend lottery. I kind of felt that way myself.

She told me to call her when I got back from my trip this month. We'd have lunch again and pick up where we left off. And this time, I believe she means it.