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. 

 

Texarkana First World Problems

I just looked at the weather forecast for the next week. The low next Tuesday is going to be 40 degrees. I just called the sprinkler folks and left a message. It is time to get my sprinklers winterized for the season.

In other news, I was hoping for another round of tomatoes this fall. I'm guessing that'll be a nope with temperatures like that.  

I Didn't Sign Up for Critters

 Yesterday morning you may have heard a blood-curdling scream coming from East Texas. Sorry about that. It was early here too. But it was a righteous scream. 

You see, as I was sweeping the kitchen floor (because who doesn't sweep the floor at 4 a.m.?), a lizard ran across my path. I wasn't expecting to see anything at that hour, especially a Texas critter. 

Marty, who had been sleeping comfortably, was rudely awakened, thinking there was a mountain lion or sabretooth tiger in the house. Silly man. Any critter is too many critters for me. 

As for me, I had trapped the lizard under the dust mop, saving our family from peril while waiting for Marty to get out of bed, find his glasses, stumble into the kitchen, then nose around until he found a something to put the lizard into. 

When all of the above was completed, I lifted part of the dust mop for Marty to finish the rest. Instead of the lizard being removed, out popped the wiggling tail, which was that second set of blood-curdling screeches you might have heard. "A snake!" I yelled. 

"No, it's the lizard's tail," Marty said. 

"Oh no! Poor lizard. I severed its tail?" 

Marty assured me that wasn't the case. Apparently--and how did I get to be this many years old before I learned this?--there are several types of lizards that can drop their tails to trick their predators. Their tails actually do wiggle in a super-creepy way that goes on for far too long. 

My hero, Marty Sunshine was able to take the tail and the lizard and dispose of them into the back yard, letting it have a turf fight with the moles. Then Marty went back to bed and asked that if I saw another lizard to please wait until a reasonable hour to alert him. He's out of luck on that one, I reminded him. When I agreed to live in Texas, I did not sign up for critters.  

House A Hunt'n

Nope

Sunday morning, Tessa met Marty and me at a house around the corner from Arizona Avenue. On paper, the home looked like something that would work for us. Four bedrooms. Three bathrooms. A laundry room that I was willing to camp in and live happily ever after. The house was approximately 400 square feet bigger than what we have now. Even the price was perfect. 

The reality was all of the above. In fact, I was willing to camp in the laundry room while Marty walked the property. However, through the magic of photography, the real estate agent had made the pictures look deceptive. We all marveled at the photographer's skills. Personally, I wish the camera could make me look taller and thinner in the same manner. 

After walking the home, Marty and I were resigned. It wasn't going to be for us. Even if we peeled the wallpaper, replaced the copious amounts of brass fixtures and painted the living room ceiling (who, I ask you, paints their ceiling brown?) the truth was, this was a house where we would be settling. 

I couldn't get past the kitchen. I loved my kitchen in Mesa. I like my kitchen on Arizona Avenue. this home's kitchen was meh. Even with the extra bedroom and a specialized place to put the cat box (the third bathroom), I couldn't come to grips with the weird kitchen. 

Marty couldn't get past the bedrooms. The two "children's bedrooms" were odd shaped and it seems that the architect had an aversion to rectangles. The fourth bedroom was going to be the family's hobby room and guest bedroom. 

When I pointed out to Marty our bed was too long for the narrow master, Tessa, the consummate sales pro--who has never seen our bed--argued that it would fit. Sure it would, but her butt is significantly smaller than mine. There would be about two feet from the end of the bed to the wall. However, my rule is never to buy a home strictly based on my current furniture. 

Speaking of Tessa, she is a great person--I really do like and respect her. She's a fabulous agent too. However, she's very much the "yes, but" kind of sales person. For example:

Me (talking to Marty): The way the house is positioned and the color of the walls and ceiling make the greatroom dark (a complaint I have in my current home too). 

Tessa: Yes, but you can paint the walls, add French doors and skylights. I know a shaman who, for a small fee, might be able to position the sun to shine exclusively in your home every day. 

Me (talking to Marty): How would you configure the couches in here? I don't think the recliner will fit. 

Tessa: Yes, but if you add a second story loft, you could put the recliner there. 

Me (talking to Marty): It looks like the garden will have to go over here, but the water source is over there. 

Tessa: Yes, but if you hire an abbot of Peruvian monks, they can carry the water from the Wake Village water tower to your garden twice a day.  

Please understand, I find this sales technique fascinating. It isn't a complaint. It is so ingrained in who she is, I doubt she notices it. Plus it is probably why she is the top agent in Texarkana. 

What the exercise did tell us is that we are open to moving for the right property. We knew this wasn't it. That's fine. The deal of the decade comes along once a week. Perhaps that will be next Saturday.   

It Was Bound To Happen

 Confession: I said, "y'all" in a normal conversation the other day. 

A Day in the Life

There was a time, like up until December 15 of last year, when it was common for me to spend hours in my car. Errands would take half a day, if not longer. Everything from the Home Depot to the Sam's Club to the Hobby Lobby would require at least a 30 minute commute. Dad was 48 miles and three freeways away. Couple that with all the driving I did for real estate. Clients live where they live (and never next door). The real estate association alone was 25 miles away. 

I thought nothing of it. But I do know I felt suffocated. I'm certain I have great driving skills. They were necessary to maneuver through a big city. 

In Texarkana, with the exception of the Wake Village City Hall, nothing is "walking distance" but nothing is far. Home Depot is 2 miles. Sam's Club is 3. The post office and the Hobby Lobby are kinda across the street from both. I have zero interest in selling houses. So, no driving there--though I see that I still have my "big city" driving habits. 

The reason I bring this up because it astounds me how spoiled I've gotten about not driving. Right now, I have a bunch of errands that are stacking up: the post office, Sam's, and Home Depot. And yet, I just don't want to deal with the "traffic." To be fair, I also need to go to the farmer's market, which is 20 miles away, but I never mind going there. I estimate, including the hour I will be at the farmer's market (I'm never there under an hour), I will leave my home at 8 and be back by 11. Now, I just have to decide which day I want to leave the house. 

The Aftermath

The "Mainland" where Uncle Sunshine lived was a place called Pine Island. His mother in law lived on Matlacha Island. Both islands were obliterated by last week's hurricane. Looking at the zillions of photos and videos I've seen in the past few days, I would put money down that Uncle Sunshine's house is gone. As far as his mother in law's house, I'm not sure. Matlacha was destroyed. The draw bridge connecting Matlacha to Cape Coral has been reduced to chunks of concrete. However, I saw a couple of photos where her house "should" be. I'm not saying it is in reasonable condition, but it might still be standing. 

No interior pictures yet on Upper Captiva (but Sanibel and Captiva Island photos are available). Given how unchartered Upper Captiva is, I'm not terribly surprised. I've seen some aerial photos. The island didn't split in two, like it did in 2004, but all the vegetation that grew back since then is completely gone. The sand made it pretty far on to the island's runway, which is that white horizontal line on the top left of the island. Looks like Uncle Sunshine's house and office are still standing too. For what it's worth. I found this picture. 

For those who might be interested in pictures of Matlacha and Pine Island, this is a good link. You will see a picture of a big red roof, next to what is left of the bridge, that was the Bridgewater Inn. We stayed there. We stayed at a few places on those two islands that I guarantee aren't in existence any more. I found a photo of another one we stayed at. It no longer has a roof. Another place we loved to stay looks like a random stack of toothpicks. 

I loved Pine Island. If I lived in that part of Florida, that was my first choice for a place to live. Marty's first choice was Matlacha. 

https://www.news-press.com/picture-gallery/news/2022/10/01/hurricane-ian-wiped-out-pine-island-and-matlacha/8144406001/

The Circle of Life

All the brown spots are where
Marty has filled the Luna-Mole Holes

Lately, Luna has been tearing up our yard. Normally, she isn't a digger, but recently our back yard looks like something akin to a B-movie war drama. I have two-foot holes hither and yon. Every other day Marty drags dirt into the holes and fills them, so we don't break our ankles, walking around the yard.   

In addition to the back yard, we are seeing smaller bits of land unearthed throughout the side yard where somethings have been digging. So far the front yard has fared well. We finally figured out what was the issue. Apparently, we have critters that have burrowed under, making tunnels and causing all sorts of mayhem. 

Through a series of conversations with old-timers at the local hardware store, as well as a frank conversation with Ms. Tonya at the pest control company, I am led to believe that what is causing this chaos are moles. You know, those cute little guys that look so sweet in cartoons. Yeah, those jerks. 

The old timers recommended "Mole Peanuts," which did nothing but shorten the lifespan of several generation of squirrels in the area (sorry about that). Apparently the moles are too smart to eat the peanuts. 

However, Ms. Tonya got me in touch with Mr. Little, who just happens to know a thing or two about mole removal and has offered to come by "sometime" to teach me how to take care of these guys myself. He says it will be infinitely cheaper than him doing it. He said three treatments will be all I need. 

I asked, other than the damage it is doing to my yard and to Luna's psyche, are there any reasons to harm these moles. I mean, I really don't want to kill them. "They are vermon," Mr. Little told me. "They might have rabies, and if they bite your dog, she will get sick. Ok, there's that--though Luna has her shots. 

Then he said what cinched it for me, "If you don't get rid of them, the copperheads will." 

Random Texarkana

Bonus Dad left yesterday morning. We had a great time up in Hot Springs at the botanical garden and at the Texarkana car museum this past weekend. Plus, there was a lot of bumming around, visiting and gardening help from him. All of it was perfect. He called me last night to tell me he made it to Roswell--10 hours from here. His next stop (today) will be Eastern Arizona, where he will spend a couple of weeks before heading back to Phoenix. I miss him already. 

***

Buckaroo has been quickly learning the saxophone. He is up to, Hot Crossed Buns and Mary Had a Little Lamb. He's hoping for Yackey Sax by the end of the semester. I've put a request in for When the Saints go Marching In, which he has no interest in learning to play.

*** 

According to the Texarkana News and Metro Reports' Facebook Page--the same credible source that tells me when there was a 90-gazillion foot rattler on the local high school football field--there is no gasoline to be found anywhere in Texarkana. Nobody seems to know if this is a temporary issue or a long-term situation. Good thing I have nowhere to go until Friday. Then, I might have a teensy problem. However, I have a full tank. Buck is low on gas. Polly just filled up. Marty works a mile from home, he can walk if necessary. Looks like Buck will be carpooling with Polly to school and he and I will be sharing a car for him to get to work. 

***

Polly has two concerts with the Texarkana Community Chorale in the next two weeks. One is at the college. One is in downtown Texarkana. We will all be going, provided our cars have enough fuel to get us the four miles.