Vacation

Five mile ride in the Great Smoky Mountains

The Sunshines took a vacation last week. It was our first since 2019. And honestly, probably my most favorite family vacation. And, I'm not just saying that because it didn't involve a life-sized mouse somewhere in the middle of Florida. 

We went to Tennessee. 

There was mini-golf and go-carts. 

There was roller coasters imbedded inside mountains for those who ride such things. (I don't--stupid 1998 head injury)

There was a show and a concert.

There was fried Southern food in sickening extra-large portions (do better, restaurants!).

There was laughing--lots of laughing.

And there was memory making.

Oh yeah, there was a train ride too. 

Christmas in New Zealand

We celebrated Christmas in Texarkana on the 24th this year. Or, as we agreed: New Zealand's December 25th. 

It was a small, casual affair. Marty got an air fryer. And now he is gung-ho to cook just about anything he can find to put in it. 

The kids got quilts I made them. Buckaroo walked around for a good portion of the day wrapped in his, giving me the impression he really liked it. 

Last year I learned to sew. This year I learned to garden. I have no idea what is on my retirement list for next year. 

Buckaroo's Quilt

Polly's Quilt

Two Years in Texarkana

 

Last night I went out with a few folks to the Banana Club, a 1923 basement Speakeasy, where access is still needed with code (found on Facebook). We saw a little comedy ditty, called "Christmas in Texarkana," which was obviously written and performed by locals. That's fine, locals around here seem to have quite a bit of thespian talent. 

The premise of the play was to poke fun at Texarkanas'--both cities--and the strange norms and culture. Those I was with thought the play was amusing. As for me, I was vindicated! I am not crazy. Growing up in a large city and knowing no other life, I've suffered from culture shock for the past two years. 

For example: 

Don't worry about your party finding you at the airport. There is one terminal and three flights each day. Flying to Texarkana Texas? Well, actually you are landing in Arkansas. And the plane you are flying on is so small all carryon baggage is checked because there is no room inside the cabin. 

Going to Walmart is more of a scavenger hunt than a shopping experience. There are two major Walmarts: one on the Texas side, one on the Arkansas side. They are not laid out the same way. It's best to memorize both layouts. Which reminds me, I was at the Texas Walmart once and someone brought in--I'm not making this up--their emotional support snake. 

If you need a tow truck, it will take longer to call one and wait for them to arrive, than to have a perfect stranger stop and help you. 

There is one Discount Tire in town. You know, the big chain tire retailer headquartered in Scottsdale? That one. Buckaroo works there. EVERYONE calls every tire shop in town "Discount Tire." I've been asked, "Which Discount Tire does Buckaroo work at?" many times. 

"In town" is a misnomer. Texarkana is two cities in two states. Also, "in town," could include the surrounding communities of Fouke, Genoa, Doddridge and Ashdown Arkansas as well as Redlick, Maude, Hooks, Leary, Nash, Wake Village and Redwater, Texas. I've probably missed a community or two. As the crow flies, it is about 25 miles from the farthest Texas "in town" locale to the farthest Arkansas "in town" locale. 

Need directions? Don't--I beg of you!--rely on GPS. This past week I went to someone's home. GPS had me heading one direction, the homeowner warned me in advance to follow her advice (turn after the Dollar General, go a half mile, you will see a pond on the left, pass that pond and then you will see another pond on the left... turn right after the second pond). 

Folklore says that when Texarkana was established 150 years ago, criminals would cross Stateline Road to escape the cops, because the police did not have jurisdiction in the other state. That has changed. However, I'm still fascinated to drive on a road that is half in one state and half in another. 

On the Arkansas side of Stateline Road one can stop into the liquor stores on most days of the week. Bowie County, Texas doesn't sell anything stronger than wine.   

It is common to run over a possum. It is even more common to run over a dead possum. And speaking of which, I have them hanging out in my back yard.

Also speaking of critters, they don't understand boundaries here. 

God is here. Whether it is at a Bowie County meeting, work function, a lunch in a restaurant, or the Banana Club before a silly little comedy play, expect at the very least a conversation about the Almighty, but more likely a prayer. If that isn't your thing, that's okay. It is very much a you-do-you, as long as we-can-do-we, kind of place. 

If you need a plumber, electrician, painter, carpenter or any trade in November and December you are better off looking on Youtube and learning to fix it yourself. It is hunting season, the trades are at Deer Camp.

Shopping carts are "buggies." Carbonated soft drinks are "coke." There are two kinds of brewed tea: ones that will put you into a diabetic coma or ones that are made with motor oil and the straw can stand up on its own. 

It is customary to give gifts of hand towels and mini-pillows here. I don't understand it either. 

Vegetables are easy to grow here. Which begs the question, why fry all of them? And by the way, macaroni and cheese is considered a vegetable here. As a connoisseur of macaroni and cheese, I can get behind that--as long as nobody fries it. 

People--I've met several--subconsciously start every sentence with y'all. "Y'all, hand me that buggy. I'm fixing to go into the Walmart." That kind of thing. Every sentence. At first I noticed it. Now I'm concerned I'm doing it too. 

Crime is "high." I've explained to the folks here, what they call "high crime" I call Tuesday afternoon at 2 p.m. in Phoenix. Recently a car was stolen from the parking lot of the hospital. It was reported on all the Facebook (ahem, "news") outlets. It was also reported when the criminal was caught and jailed six hours later. The thief's picture was plastered all over the place and everyone from Sunday school teachers to the mother's next door neighbors were posting about this guy. Public shaming here is real. There was a shooting in October which made the national news. The truth was, the shooting happened at a private party and the guy is in jail. And my favorite crime story: last year a few thugs came up from Shreveport to make a dash and grab at a local store. However, there were three women (who did not know each other) who were all carrying and made a citizens' arrest.   

After two years, I'm told I'm still not a Texan and certainly not a Southerner. However, nobody is willing to tell me how long it takes to be an official Texan. Maybe it happens when I automatically start my sentences with y'all. 

 

 

Bittersweet Ruminations

Update: Not ten minutes after I posted this, I got a phone call from my pal, Sally! While on the phone with Sal, I also got a text from my friend of 30+ years, Rhea. 

So far, two years into this Texas experiment, life is going well. I must say, this second year turned out better than the first. It helps when nobody dies (much less three family members) three months after a major move. Gotta tell you, grief is much easier with a support system. 

Every time I go back to Phoenix, I'm saddened. It isn't the city I grew up in. Metrocenter is gone. Bell Road is dumpy. The city no longer ends at Deer Valley. There's litter everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Traffic is gross. People are just downright grumpy. The last two times I went back there were encampments at the retention basin three houses down from my former home in Mesa. Whatever your opinion about social justice or encampments, I'm still guessing you wouldn't want this 200 feet from your front door and in the field where the neighborhood children play soccer.

I've often wondered if I would have noticed the gradual shift in Phoenix's physical environment had we not moved. After all, was this happening all along? Or did the area's decline being in January of 2022? I know I'm much more aggressive on the road and my demeanor is surly when I'm in Phoenix. Every trip comes with a wave of abject depression it takes me a month to shake.

That said, I miss my friends and family. Dearly. I'd take all the littered Phoenix streets for a hug from one of them right about now. New friends are wonderful, but they aren't the same as old friends. There's a lot to be said for the comfort which comes with being able to sit across from a long-time girlfriend, sip an iced tea and have an entire conversation with a smile and a contented sigh.  

My old friends are top of mind lately, maybe because it is the anniversary of our move. Maybe it is the time of year. I'm hoping I'm still someone they think about too.  

Year Two of Arizona Avenue

Today marks two years living in Texas (more on that later). Like last year, I took a picture every month of our home. Just because. 

 

January

February. 

It is not an exaggeration when I say it rained every week--multiple days on end--from right after Christmas until the first week of June. So, the fact I managed to take a picture in February on a sunny day is something of a miracle. 

March 

See those yellow dots in the middle of the left edge? Those are daffodils. They came out early this year because of all the rain. 

April 

My tulips are blooming in this picture. Trust me on this. 

May

The crepe myrtles in the front are starting to bloom! 

June

Because of my gardener training, I learned I had a sick lawn. Mainly it was weeds with a little bit of grass thrown in. Well, I also learned how to fix it so my lawn could look like this. And yes, this is probably my finest achievement, thus far in my master gardener training. 

July

I keep being told "Texas summers are the worst." They are "hot." They are "humid." 
Y'all, I can walk outside on the concrete barefoot in July here. I can touch my car with the palm of my hand and not get burned. These folks don't know what a hot summer is. 

As far as humidity, I am not finding it terrible. But I'd take 90 degrees and being able to go outside in July and humidity over 110 degrees and having to stay indoors.  

August

The crepe myrtles are still blooming. We have about nine crepe myrtles in the back yard as well. They are ubiquitous and drive anywhere and you will see them. When they are blooming, it reminds me of the spring in Phoenix and seeing the oleanders blooming everywhere. 

September

October

Confession: I got sick of paying the higher water bill, so I turned off the sprinklers. 

November

December

I have a plethora of silly lawn ornaments that I change out for the season. It has been commented that had I displayed them in the front yard in Mesa, they'd have been stolen. 

December Again

A few weeks ago I met Bliz in Branson, MO for a girl's weekend. I came home to find Buckaroo and Marty had bought and added Christmas lights to the front of the house. 

A Christmas Party I Attended

I went to the Thursday Lunch Bunch's Christmas party today. Most of the ladies there are Coronas. All of them are from the Church of Christ except me and, well, Tessa the Realtor (who happens to be a Corona) showed up. 

Krissy was our hostess. We all brought a dish to share and our Holiday Spirit. Oh yes! There was also a donation for kids clothes if anyone wanted to contribute. But otherwise, this party didn't break the bank. There was one shrimp dish. Krissy made sure to stick it on another counter and told everyone not to cross contaminate. 

We played silly party games, ate too much and laughed until our sides ached. I have plans with Tessa to grab tacos next week. Deb invited me to a comedy club next weekend. Gail put me on the Church of Christ's new book club Facebook group (they've changed communication venues and my name got dropped off so I've missed a meeting or two. I figured I'd eventually get that fixed, but I'd been in no hurry). Oh yes, I was able to pass along to Jenny next year's Master Gardener class info. 

If I ever wondered whether I was still an outsider or imposter trying to fit in, I think I can give that up now. 

Certifiable

I'm still on the mend. I'd probably be 100 percent healthy if (ahem) "Luna" didn't snore like a chainsaw  and I got more than three hours of sleep. The worst part about being up all night? There's little to do. It's too cold to play in the garage. The computer and sewing machine are in the master bedroom. The house is too small to turn on the television without waking anyone. So, I scrubbed the shower and deep cleaned the kitchen. Then I turned to a book.

Anyway, after I write this, I'm going back to sleep. 

Yesterday I was looking for a phone number on the Master Gardener Web site, when, to my surprise, I discovered my status had changed. I'm no longer an "Intern." I've met the requirements necessary and am now a Certified Master Gardener. 

Cool. I can check that off my 2023 Bucket List. 

Next week there's the Master Gardener Christmas party--this is East Texas, nobody does "holiday" parties--where I'm told we will gather and clap over the three of us who achieved their certification thus far. This is a pretty chill group, but I'm okay skipping the whole clapping thing. For that matter, I'm okay skipping the whole give-me-attention thing. 

However, in order to go to this shin-dig, I'm required to cough up ten bucks to pay for a crummy meal I probably won't eat. Trust me, I know exactly where they got this catered chicken spaghetti from. I'm also required to bring a gift "up to $25 in value" for the White Elephant Gift Exchange Dirty Santa game. And oh yes! Everyone is asked to contribute some sort of garden-themed door prize. Fortunately, there's three Dollar Generals within a mile of my home. At the moment, they are all starting to carry their spring line of merch. 

What ever happened to just hanging out and talking plants? Or, just hanging out?  

Marty thinks I should go. I'm thinking I'm too sleep deprived at this moment to make this decision.  

A Winter's* Nap

*I realize the calendar says autumn for two more weeks. However, it was 29 degrees last night.

I've been sick. I probably was sick long before I declared I was sick. And if I'd just paid attention, I might have been up and running faster. Right now I'm in the punky, I-want-a-nap-but-there's-no-reasonable-reason-why-I-can't-load-the-dishwasher phase of sick. I'm still debating if I'm healthy enough to go to barre tonight. I'll decide after my nap.

The good news about this development is it kyboshed a few extra social activities from my schedule. Tell me why everyone feels the need to socialize in December? Those who want to celebrate Groundhog Day: they are my people. 

In other news: I'm shopping for an insurance agent. I found one last week. I was ready to write the policy and she ghosted me. I'm still scratching my head over this one. I don't beg people to take my money and I don't give money to flakes. Hence, looking for a new insurance agent who writes Texas Blue Cross policies. But it has to happen this week because open market ends Friday.

Also, as I mentioned, I have a barre class tonight. I would be excited if I had the energy. When I moved here, I looked at the three yoga studios in town and decided I didn't care for any of them. All exclusively handled hot yoga and nothing else. One of the studios has now moved to downtown and is expanding their line of classes to regular yoga (yay!), pilates and barre. I haven't done barre since before the lockdown. But I remember liking it. 

Off for a nap and then to make a call or two for an insurance agent. Surely someone around here wants to write a policy. 

Chicken Spaghetti Update

I'm not making this up. I wish I was. 

One of the women from the Catholic Ladies Auxiliary gave me her "to-die for" chicken spaghetti recipe yesterday. She swears this is the best way to make this dish and it stands out "above other chicken spaghettis." 

• Rotisserie chicken
• Velveeta
• One Can Rotel
• One Can Cream of Mushroom Condensed Soup (do not add additional liquid)
• One Can Cream of Chicken Condensed Soup (do not add additional liquid)
• Spaghetti

If it looks familiar, it is because it seems to be the only recipe for chicken spaghetti. And I am convinced I will die before I agree to take a bite of it. 

Just Gonna Leave This Right Here

 

Random Texarkana

 I had an opportunity to play with plants this weekend.

The roses bloomed again and a few made it to my Thanksgiving table. This was the fifth time this year I got blooms. 

Additionally, I planted more than 150 tulip, daffodil, hyacinth and crocus bulbs. Here's to a colorful front yard next spring! 

Squee! Spring Flowers

*****

While I was out in the front yard digging away, the mailman brought me a package from Bliz. She sent me a spare raincoat she doesn't use and a Paul Goldschmidt bobblehead. It was the second bobblehead I'd gotten this week. The first one--Martin Perez, a Texas Ranger pitcher--came from my pal Jon of the Texarkana Community Garden Coalition, who thought I could use some Texas Ranger swag. 

*****

And finally, while all that was going on, Buckaroo came home with a new family board game. We played it yesterday and all agree it was a hit. Polly won. But I won the Settlers of Catan game later.  

My brother, Squirrel, needs this game.

Chicken Spaghetti

There is a culinary abomination in the South called, "chicken spaghetti." It is served at every potluck, church picnic and social gathering as some sort of delicacy. I suspect the recipe stems from some  housewife who had a bunch of leftovers and several hungry children with unsophisticated taste buds. And now this dish is as ubiquitous as pecan pie--and may my late Texas mother-in-law forgive me--just as gross. 

Chicken spaghetti is made with chicken: canned, rotisserie or if someone has the desire and ambition, they can cook up a chicken prior to making this nastiness. 

To the chicken, one adds Velveeta (which seems to be a staple) a can or two of cream of something soup (no milk or water to thin it) and--I'm not making this up--Rotel tomatoes. It is the Rotel that makes it "fancy" and appropriate for company. Mix the above with a pot of cooked and drained spaghetti and serve. Please note, seasonings appear to be optional.

Recently, guilted by my food snobbery, I looked up recipes, figuring someone somewhere has to make a better version. What I could find was the above ingredients and sometimes the recipe called for cream cheese or cheddar cheese as well. 

It isn't just me who thinks this casserole is gross. The entire family is on board with never putting this concoction in our digestive tracks. In fact, Buckaroo would rather starve than eat anything with Velveeta. I can't say I blame him. 

An Introvert in the South

My dance card is brimming over with social. And I am not sure how to handle such things. For the first 54 years of life I had a few close friends--though I'd like to think I still do--and we saw each other when we saw each other. It wasn't complicated. 

This whole Southern Social Thing though!!! 

I made the conscious decision not to say yes to any more social events this year. I have plenty right now. 

• Thanksgiving
• My two leave-the-state trips in December
• Polly's graduation
• Christmas
• Polly's two concerts
• One (of three) book clubs--though I'm hating the book and may just pass. The heck with it! 
• Lunch bunch Christmas party 
• Master Gardener Christmas party (I may pass on this too). 
• A lunch date with Joy 
• A lunch date with Val
• Marty's birthday
• Marty's company Christmas party
• A family trip to see Christmas lights in Washington Arkansas (30 miles away) 
• Though I tried to get out of it--Deb's prayer group's Christmas party. Deb has a way of guilting me like nobody since Bonus Mom has ever been successful at doing. 
• The Ladies' Auxiliary Christmas party. Well, let me just nip that one in the bud. 

Sadly, I'm missing this year's Corona New Year's party. I will be out of town. That actually is one event I wouldn't mind going to. Fortunately, I will see them all at the Lunch Bunch Christmas Party and Deb's prayer group's Christmas party. Plus, as I write this, my phone is blowing up--again--with group texts. This is kind of a daily thing.

There was a time I said yes to every social event that came my way. The next six weeks is a byproduct of that. This isn't a complaint. I like the people I'm with. However, I'm ready for a long winter's nap.  

So This is Happening

 I woke up today to find out we are under a tornado advisory until 5 p.m. 

Music City

Polly's concert last week

I've mentioned this before, but I'm saying it again, the amount of musical talent in this small town astounds me. My church has a world-class conductor--one of those guys who has been all over the word--as our music director. He is also head of the Music Department at Texarkana College, where Polly currently goes. And, he is some mucky-muck with Carnegie Hall. He is also in charge of the Texarkana Chorale, the local community choir. 

His wife is a wonderful soprano who sings at the jazz club downtown and at other venues for hire. In fact, a few weeks ago, Marty and I were at one of Texarkana Chorale's concerts (where she and Polly were singing). We left, went to a Halloween gathering and there was the wife, playing a set! When she took a break and came over to say hello, we joked about how she had back-to-back gigs that day. 

(Wipes knuckles on lapel... yeah... I sorta know a local "celebrity"... )

Polly has been so blessed to work under this man. I think this has been one of the biggest byproducts of our move here. This past week she had a concert for school. She sang "When I am Laid in the Earth" (from an opera I don't know). And, she stole the show. It isn't just my opinion--she was told this by other, non-family members who were just casual observers. 

But that isn't all! There is another faction of musical brilliance in town. There is a very large family who records and performs throughout the area. In fact, Marty works with one of the people from that family. Many members of the family have been in the musicals the Coronas go to see every few months, which is where I first heard of them.  

In addition to all that, Texarkana College, Texarkana Community Theater and whatever else there is around here, have amazing musicals and concerts, starring the locals and sometimes folks they bring in from other venues. Now then, let's not confuse this with the Sidney Opera House or Lincoln Center, however, for a place this size you can't go wrong. Additionally, I'm shocked at the number of larger-market folks who actually travel all the way here to perform at our largest venue*: the Perot Theater. After all, Dallas, Shreveport, Little Rock and even Tyler would garner better ticket sales. I doubt we are getting A-list headliners any time soon, but the music I've heard so far is definitely ear candy.  

*"Largest venue" means indoor venue, because of course there's the fairgrounds. 

Payout

Excuse me while I tell you that I ran my air conditioner for part of October and my electric bill was $88.33. Marty, nor I, ever remember paying $88.33 for an electric bill. 

And I filled up my car the other day. It costs this much per gallon. 

The Gathering of Authors

On Thursday, after another maddening experience with our local credit union (of which I was a member for two and a half weeks), I closed my account (they didn't care, nor did they find Marty's paycheck, which they acknowledge was deposited into their system but never made it into our checking account) and found myself at the local Edward Jones office. When I arrived, Tammy, the office manager greeted me, told me the person I needed to speak with wasn't available and by the way, did I want to attend this year's Gathering of Authors? After another hour of chatting in the lobby of the Edward Jones office, Tammy discovered I've dabbled in writing ("The Calling" coming to an Amazon Web site near you in Spring 2024).

What was odd about this experience (other than I didn't maim anyone at the credit union) was that Tammy happened to be the second person in two hours to mention this event. 

Today, Marty and I took the 11 mile trek to the Cowboy Church, 24 miles from Louisiana, in nowhere Arkansas to check out the event. And wouldn't you know? It was heavily attended by not only local authors, but writers from all over the area. Think of it like a trade show for readers. Most folks were great, peddling their wares, sharing their stories of inspiration on how they came up with ideas for their books. Then there was the world's leading expert in Bigfoot, who showed us blurry pictures that he swore was the monster itself. 

I met a lot of folks and managed to get myself invited to a Christmas party in Longview. Several published authors invited me to reach out any time for advice on anything from marketing to publishing to proofreading. Plus, I found a book series for my nephew, Patrick, for his Christmas present. And I found a book about baseball and World War II for me.  

Socially

Nobody, I mean, nobody, would have ever accused me of being social before moving to Texarkana. Yet, here I am. 

This past week while working the early voting polls, about 200 people came through during my shifts. I knew about 20 of them by name. The other poll workers were astounded at how many people I greeted. And frankly, when I looked back, so was I. Some were Coronas. Others were Church of Christ folks. A couple were random people I've met here and there. There were even a couple of the Master Gardener folks. And, there were three from my church, of which, one was from the Ladies Auxiliary. Given the heavy-jaw glare she threw at me, I'm guessing she probably wouldn't have said hello if I hadn't said hi first. Bless her heart. Of course, there was also Buckaroo. 

I contrasted the woman from the Ladies Auxiliary who showed up to vote about the same time as Corona Patty. The difference in their energy and overall demeanor was apparent. To be fair, it was probably apparent in my overall demeanor too. I'm okay with that, nor am I sorry. I feel like I'm at my best when I'm around positive people who bring out my best. 

Civic Duty

I got a part-time job. I work for Bowie County as an election worker (sounds better than poll worker--which is what the State calls us). My job currently is "clerk," which means I check people in when they come to vote, swear in anyone who is there to assist the voter and maintain election integrity. 

In addition to Election day, Texas has early election voting. This election is for ballot propositions, which apparently voters are either finding underwhelming or are waiting until the last minute to cast their votes. In Bowie County, there were three spots open for voters to cast their early ballots. I ended up working at the Church of Christ. Next Tuesday is election day and we will have 20+ sites open. I will work that day at the Texarkana Rec Center. 

Texas has a pretty easy-peasy system to ensure all votes are counted the very day of the election. Therefore, there is little chance of them having to wait, say... two weeks to find out the results of a governor race. Additionally, the State of Texas has taken impressive steps to minimize the risk of voter fraud. Election workers never touch the ballots. Only the voter does. They have redundant systems in place to make sure the votes are accurately tabulated. We had the Bowie County Election Pubah come in this past week and run an impromptu audit, making sure what was on our voting machine matched the report he ran. It did. 

I'm pleased this is a soft start. Because next year Texas has four elections (primary, run-off, Texas/local and Presidential). Those who are brave enough, have an opportunity to work all nine weeks of early voting and election days. I think I'm brave enough. 

In addition to election clerk, there are two other positions at the polling place: alternate judge and presiding judge. I've already been asked if I'm interested in either of those positions, not because I'm super-fantastic, but because they are short people who want to step up to that level of responsibility for a measly two dollar an hour raise. I said I'd be willing to consider the role in 2025. Hit me up then. 

I Live in the Heart of Ranger-Baseball Territory

So, this happened. 

For those unfamiliar with the reference, my Arizona Diamondbacks
are headed to the World Series to play the Texas Rangers. 

 

 

Protip

 When going out to eat with a group of people to a restaurant in the South, never sit in the middle of the table. You will be expected to give the blessing before the meal. I learned this early and I position myself strategically.  

I Went to Alabama

 No, no, not THAT Alabama. Oh please! The PTSD alone keeps me away. But then there's the whole statute of limitations... I honestly don't know when they expire. But that's another story for another blog. 

This weekend, I'm in New Orleans with a few of the ladies I know from Texarkana. We went to the Alabama Concert. Randy Owens looks old. His granddaughter is playing in the band now. 

Expedia Isn't Helping Her

This video is less than two minutes and VERY accurate. Especially the mosquitos, gas stations and well, all of it. 

(Here it is if the link doesn't work: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/HJoEtEGRsDw)

Corona Party

Yesterday, I went to see Menopause, The Musical. It was freakishly accurate. 

There were 12 of us who sojourned the hour drive to Shreveport for this occasion. Afterwards, we had a surprise party for Tessa, who turned 70 69. Deb, her very best buddy in the whole wide world, swore to us it was Tessa's 70th. I was pretty sure it was not. No matter, Tessa was surprised and doesn't look a day over 35.

On the way back, Gail and I watched the Rangers-Cheaters Astros game on her phone in the back seat of Deb's car while Leah looked like she wanted to be anywhere other than listening to us talk baseball. In the front seat, Tessa and Deb were doing their very best impersonation of Bliz and me on a road trip (Tessa/Me: "Now turn there. No, not there. I meant there." Deb/Bliz: "Get it together before I make you walk!").

I love being with perpetually happy people who make me laugh. 

Suzy, Ginny and Linda couldn't make it.
This is the rest of us. 

Adulthood

This guy is 21 today. Where did the time go? 

Buck is my comedian and my storyteller. He is my hard working, "I can't hear you, if you are suggesting to me it can't be done," kid. 

In addition to all that, he is the one who threw back all my patented teenaged snarkiness in my face. I had it coming. My mother promised when I was 13, I'd have a kid just like me. I couldn't be happier with the one she ordered up. 

I'm so proud of Buck's childhood journey. I can't wait to see what's in store for him because I know he has a bright future in front of him. 

And yes, he was the one driving the boat--by himself in the Gulf of Mexico.
(Uncle Sunshine was close by to take over if necessary)

Ode to Joy

A wonderful and amazing Arizona friend pointed out recently life is too short for ickiness and it is always better to surround myself with activities and people who bring me joy. This was in reference to the September Ladies Auxiliary meeting. Though I haven't formally quit, I suspect they are as excited at the prospect of me being one of them as I am of staying on with them. 

As if I needed additional reinforcement, one woman recently sent out a group text, asking for help with a small side project. I responded I could be available. She wrote back to the group, "who is this?"  Okay... I've been hanging with all'y'all for almost a year and you couldn't be bothered to put my phone number in your contacts. Got it. For that matter, I know my name pops up as potential Facebook friend suggestion. None of them acknowledge this. That's okay. I don't acknowledge them either. 

Even Polly noticed a sharp contrast between how our church operates and the way the social structure functions at the Church of Christ. Ever the optimist, Polly thinks with more time, the Catholic Church could become more friendly and outgoing. The cliquishness they have exhibited since Texarkana was established 125 years ago would just dissipate if our parish just saw the bigger picture. After almost two years of attending there, I hold no such illusions and am grateful my Church of Christ pals let me be me. 

Circling back to the issue at hand, this week is the Ladies Auxiliary meeting. Originally it was on the 12th. But several folks (including me) couldn't make it. So, someone unilaterally thought moving it to the 11th was the answer. That same someone also made an executive decision to hold the meeting at some horrid overpriced restaurant with terrible food where I happen to be allergic to a good portion of the menu. I could suggest we change the venue (like to the church hall after dinner or to my living room, also after dinner) but then I'd be committed to going. Instead, tomorrow, I have a pressing commitment I cannot avoid: the Diamondbacks' playoff game. 

It was also suggested if one couldn't make the overpriced restaurant on Wednesday night, just call into the meeting. Apparently there's a lot to discuss this week about future Church activities. Nope. Not doing it. Last time I showed up I was told I was the new secretary. I countered with, No, I am not the new secretary.  

The writing is on the wall. I'm not cut out for this group. I'm trying to figure out a way to bow out gracefully. But nobody will be surprised. There are a few folks in there I really do connect with on a personal level. As a group, not so much. I think I'd like them better if I could just help out when the church needed help and avoid the stupid meetings. 

After the Flood

I spent four hours Friday cleaning up the yard from the storm. I put down more soil and mulch. My front yard looks amazing. The garden is still producing tomatoes. 

Where my car should go. 

Marty and I spent Saturday shoveling out the garage from the flood. We lost a lot of pointless empty Amazon boxes as well as several other things we shipped from Arizona that we probably don't need anyway. In the process, we emptied seven or eight plastic totes and a few more Arizona boxes. 

I now have the space to park my car in the garage, if I so chose to do so. But that would require Buck NOT to park his car right in front of the garage door. Therefore, I have a really spacious workshop.

Where Buck's car goes.

Though the yard and the garage look fabulous, the weekend's task came with a horrible price. My back is killing me. Rarely do I feel "old." But right now I do. I'm sure mobility will return in a day or so.

I Didn't Sign Up For This Either

 It rained today. 

A lot. 

Here are a few random Texarkana pictures, which really do not do this water justice. These were all taken by folks who braved the weather and posted them on Texarkana-specific web sites. Incidentally, I recognize all of these particular places and they are less than two miles from my home. 

What I didn't take a picture of was the water level that was about a couple of inches below my garage's  electrical outlet around 1 p.m. today. That was a fun ordeal. Polly and I became very creative while we worked to get the water out of the garage and build a make-shift barrier to stop it from coming back in. Sigh... I didn't need that area rug that we used because I didn't have sandbags.  

On Friday, the first day the sun is supposed to shine, I will be cleaning out the garage. Sadly, the furniture I'd set aside to refinish this winter is probably ruined too. Too bad, I'd found four really nice pieces. The good news is water didn't get to the freezer, which was at the back of the garage. However, it got under the freezer. 

What Marty Said

 Yesterday, I had a date with Marty. We went to lunch and the Church of Christ craft fair where I bought this gem. 

I said hello to several people, some who knew I didn't go to their church. Some who had no clue. 

After a greeting from Tammy, Marty asked, "Is she a Corona?" 

"No, she's in Deb's prayer group." 

Then Ginny said hello. "How about her? Is she in the prayer group?" he asked. 

"She's part of the Thursday Lunch Bunch." I said, adding, "She and I are going to the movies tomorrow." 

And of course there was Susan. "Lunch Bunch?" Marty asked, hoping he was keeping up. 

"No, I know her from book club." 

I stopped and talked with Hannah, checking on her daughter, following up because we were thinking about getting our daughters together. "I'm not even going to ask how you know her." Marty said.  

"She's our insurance agent's executive assistant. Plus, her daughter is a music major." 

I'd like to tell you these were the only folks I spoke with, but no. I spent more time saying hello than I did shopping, which was probably for the best for my bank account. 

As we were leaving, Marty pointed out how much nicer everyone was at the Church of Christ and how I know (and have more friends) at the Church of Christ than I have at our church. I wanted to scream, "DUH!!!!" Somehow I found a way to hold my tongue. After all, I agreed to have a Catholic home. My children still live with us. I won't divide my family. But every once in a while, it is nice to show him what he's missing. 

Back to the Museum of Measurement and Time

Bonus Dad arrived Monday and we spent the week hanging out and doing life together. I dragged him to my Community Garden Coalition meeting Tuesday. We toured three small-town museums during the week as well. One of which, I knew would be right up his left-brained alley: the Museum of Measurement and Time. I mean, who wouldn't want to drive fifty miles to see a crap-ton of clocks, salt and pepper shakers and engineering equipment? 

It's a lot like this. A lot.

Actually, the place is pretty cool. I've been there twice now. Once with my brother and nephew last summer. But twice is enough. So, if you come to visit, I'm gonna pass. We will find somewhere else to hang. 

By the way, here's the link to a short video (Museum of Measurement and Time) of the place. 

My theory is the wife of the guy who owns the stuff  got sick of tripping over all of his crap "collection" and told him to move it somewhere else. So, he bought a commercial building in Jefferson Texas and displayed it there. 

Happy Surprise

I got a call a couple of hours ago from Bonus Dad. He will be here tomorrow. This is news to me because: 

1. he hadn't told me he had left Michigan 

2. he hadn't told me he was swinging by Texarkana at all. In fact, when we talked this past summer, he mentioned skipping Texas this time. However, it appears he's changed his mind. I'm totally on board with this. 

So, I have company in a few hours. 

I will be doing a miraculous house cleaning tomorrow morning (here's where a small house comes in handy)

I have a zillion errands to run--like grocery shopping and I have to swing by Lowes. 

I need to cancel a few plans for the week--like Lunch Bunch, my writer meeting and the Community Garden Coalition. 

However, it's all good. Bonus Dad is coming!!!  

I Miss the Turtles

 Luna has a new outdoor toy: Squirrels. 

They don't fare as well as the turtles.  

Sigh. 

The Ladies Auxiliary Meeting

I am writing this with limited mobility in my left hand. I had a steroid shot today in the same hand, scratch that, in the same spot on my hand where I had surgery last April. Hopefully the shot will (eventually) help the hand heal. In the meantime, I'm incapacitated. Because I like you, I'm spell checking. I assure you what I'm typing and what you are reading look nothing alike. 

Tonight there was a Ladies Auxiliary Meeting. The last time I managed to make an appearance was last March. In April, I had hand surgery. In May, I was out of town. I guess they forgot to put me on the text thread this past summer. However, someone remembered me recently and had the presence of mind to invite me to tonight's meeting. 

The meeting was held at a seafood-centric Italian restaurant, where nothing on the menu was a reasonable price. I arrived--I'm not making this up--one minute late because I have a worthless hand and am in a lot of pain. That one minute meant everyone else was already served their drinks and knew what they wanted to order. I then found out that this past summer I was nominated the new secretary. That's nice. But I made it clear, I was refusing to commit past tonight to that particular task.  I suspect I was slotted into this position as a way to keep me committed to this group. I didn't bother to explain, taking notes is not what motivates me. 

The meeting went as expected, given I was trying to eat pasta and take notes with one hand. I'm pleased I helped manage to shoot down the bake sale they put on every year. Apparently, every member of the Ladies Auxiliary is supposed to make ten (10!!!!) different types of baked goods--like one dozen cookies, a banana bread, pumpkin pie, etc., and then we sell everything the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I've tasted a good portion of the home cooking around here. I'm shocked this is a money-maker. 

We also talked about putting on a trivia night in November. Last year it was extremely profitable. And frankly, it was a lot of fun. However, this discussion went nowhere. So, they will be making a mad-scramble to plan this in October if they choose to put it on at all. 

One of my significant issues with this "money maker" is the expected cost out of my pocket. I added up what I'm supposed to contribute for this event and it comes to more than twenty percent of Marty's weekly take-home pay for door prizes and my part of the accompanying Trivia Night dinner (two chicken spaghettis--yes that's a thing--and a sheet cake) I'm expected to make. I might make two chicken spaghettis (they are as gross as they sound) but that's the extent of my contributing. 

The last order of business was prayer intentions. I asked for prayers for my hand. I asked for this while I was attempting to put my uneaten dinner into a to-go container (try putting pasta into a to-go container with one hand!). Though they looked and commented on my completely swollen hand, which is the size of a grapefruit, and though they watched me struggle with my plate--which I could not lift--nobody offered to help me. 

Sometimes I don't understand these people. It was obvious I hadn't eaten and my hand looks like a crumpled watermelon. It was obvious I couldn't make a fist or lift anything. They saw this. They gave their, "bless your hearts." But nobody, including the two women sitting next to me and watching me spill my pasta onto the table, offered to lift the plate over the to-go box. I think that is the best metaphor for the Ladies Auxiliary as a whole. They are super nice people. However, they are clueless to the bigger picture.   

Our next meeting is scheduled for October 19th. I said I wouldn't be there. But wait? I can't miss a meeting! According to some smartass, I'm the new secretary. I pointed out, that no, I am not the new secretary. I agreed to take notes today only and was not committing to anything long-term. And even if I was the new secretary, I still wouldn't be able to attend October 19th. I will be out of town (more on that later). In deference to me being unavailable, they made the magnanimous decision to move the meeting to October 12th. That's Buckaroo's birthday. I wouldn't be attending that day either. However, if they bother to remind me, I will tell them I can't make it at a later time.

Only in Texas

There are those people who take pictures of their daily moments and post them for posterity on social media or their blog. In this case, I did not. 

Monday morning, I was home alone with Luna, when I caught her chasing a longish, black slithery thing through the house. While I made the appropriate noises, the creature, looking for shelter, slid under my robotic vacuum. Luna crouched, growling, letting me know whatever it was now resided under the vacuum. 

And here is the fun part: it is considered in these parts, "baby copperhead" season. That is, a time when the copperheads spawn, and their babies--which have black and brown scales AND LOOK NOTHING LIKE COPPERHEADS are roaming the suburbs, hanging out in unsuspecting places. These thugs (I'm told by my vet, Doc. P.,) have enough venom to kill a Luna doggie.

I'd like to tell you that I handled this next part with the grace of a Southern Belle or the bravery of a Texan, but we'd all know I was lying. 

With a quick triage of my options I decided the critter probably wouldn't try to break for another room with Luna a foot away, growling. Nor would it come out. Therefore, Luna was momentarily safe. With that knowledge, I opened the closest outside door (the one leading to the back yard--looking back, I see the flaw in that plan: it would then be in MY back yard) and rushed into the garage to grab the only weapon I could readily find: the broom. 

While all this was going on, I was deciding who loved me enough in Phoenix to let me live with them for the rest of my life. Because, I made it very clear to Marty when I moved here: I didn't sign up for snakes. 

I spent another 10 minutes cajoling, coercing and shoving Luna out of the way. She weighs 60 pounds and manages to drop her weight when she wants what she wants. And she wanted this. All the while, I kept an eye on the robotic vacuum, hoping the critter didn't decide to slither out at that moment and make a beeline under the couch. 

After Luna was locked into the master bedroom, I grabbed the broom with one hand and the robotic vacuum with another. "Please don't bite me," I begged, as I lifted the vacuum. 

And there it was. An earthworm. An--I swear not making this up--eight inch, fat earthworm. I've never seen one so big! I hit it once with the broom and the darn thing broke in two, wiggling its two extra-fat, four-inch segments in two different directions, and neither direction was towards the back door. I tried picking up one side of it, and it jumped--jumped!--out of my hand and began wiggling on the ground again. All the while, I was trying to figure out 1) how it got into the house, because no door had been opened in at least three hours 2) how it was surviving without dirt. 

With the use of the dustpan, I managed to get both pieces outside. But that was enough of an ordeal for one week. 

The Dallas Trip

In the 29+ years I have known Marty, he has never traveled alone. Ever. That includes when we lived in the Phoenix, driving to visit his family in Tucson. 

Lately, he has been in desperate need of a special coffee only found at the Winco in Dallas. His My desire was one of his children would love the opportunity to hang out in Dallas, grocery shopping. I mean, if Marty likes grocery shopping 120 miles from home in a city with crazy traffic, genetically they should too. Right? 

Unfortunately, neither young adult was available (stupid mid-terms*). To be fair, Marty said he would "understand" if I didn't want to go to Dallas. But, love conquers all, and I sucked it up. 

A trip to Dallas does not merely consist of a "trip to Winco." Oh, no. It starts with the Special Call of the Beaver, where we stop at Buc'cees. To give you an idea of how awesome Buc'cees happens to be, we passed the Texarkana First Baptist Church van on Interstate 30 this morning. We caught up to them at the Buc'cees, where I ran into out my pal Teresa the Master Gardener. It turns out--I'm not making this up--she took a bunch of her Sunday School high school students to Dallas for the sole purpose of going to Buc'cees. When they were done there, they were getting back into the van and driving another two hours back to Texarkana.

Generally when I go to Buc'cees, Patrick ends up with a new Texas t-shirt. But, his mother is probably pleased to hear I didn't get him one today. The only reason why is I went to Shreveport yesterday and bought him something much cooler (more on that later). As an Auntie, I need to set an example and show moderation. Probably.

We found our way into hell Dallas where we bought out three-quarters of the Winco store. We then spent--and I'm not making this up either--40 minutes in line behind this young couple who obviously wear their bad choices on their sleeves. They also thought they were the first people in the universe to pass a bad check. If I hadn't been super-hangry, it might have been hilarious.  

Lunch was a deceptive "Mexican" restaurant, which turned out to be blah Tex-mex with great salsa and a fabulous waiter. 

After all that, we took a trip to Costco, which is where eighty-five percent of Dallas happened to be residing today. The highlights of Costco consisted of a summit in front of the refrigerator where the tri-tip was housed. And,--I'm not making this up--about ten of us stood around discussing the merits of Costco's tri-tip, the seasoning, best practices for cooking it and what could be done with the leftovers. By the time our summit ended, there were probably thirty of us. 

In the cleaning-goods aisle, I made a Facebook friend named Jackie. 

And, we brought home a pizza, which was dinner. Tri-tip tomorrow night (cooked in a 325 oven for 40 minutes). Perhaps I'll send my roasted okra recipe to Jackie. 

After all that, we made one more stop at Buc-cees, for gas and iced tea. Marty said, "last chance to get Patrick a Buc-cees t-shirt." I pointed out it was my last chance today to get him one. There will be other trips. And perhaps someone else will accompany Marty next time he runs low on coffee.   

 

*Texarkana College has changed their schedule and now has 8 week classes, because someone thought that was a great idea. They forgot to ask the faculty and students what they thought.  

 

She's Kidding (I Hope)

I was told yesterday I'm no longer a Corona. Or, I won't be much longer. Krissy is promising there will be a vote. She'll let me know. 

Why? Because I won last night's Mexican Train domino game by more than 200 points. It's nice to be liked enough to be teased. 

Burying the Lead

I am part of the Texarkana Community Garden Coalition. This isn't part of the Master Gardener program, though there are several Master Gardeners who attend. There are also several who are not Master Gardeners who attend. This program is through the Bowie County Health Department. They have a grant to put gardens throughout the city of Texarkana (I don't know why only Texarkana and not Wake Village, which is also in Bowie County). 

We have four gardens, where anyone who wants a veg of some sort, can just walk up to the plant and grab what they need. Jonesing a tomato? Cucumber? Basil? Okra? Cantaloupe? Pumpkin? Yellow Squash? Yep, help yourself. 

This has been one of the most rewarding parts of my life here. Sometimes our Tuesday group plays with plants, sometimes we meet and discuss ideas to keep the gardens going for next year. 

Somewhere along the lines, we decided to have a local cooking show, showcasing the produce we've growing in the gardens. Though I know how to cook, I will not be in front of the camera. However, today I came up with about 16 different recipes. 

But like every great media concept, it needs to have a catchy jingle, right? At least that's what we were told by the Powers That Be. And nope, we couldn't move forward with this project until we got a jingle. 

One phone call and an hour and a half later, Polly, a music major, wrote and sang our jingle. 

Which brings me to this: Polly was commissioned today to write a jingle for Bowie County.  

 

Try This in a Big City

I had an appointment at 10 a.m. today "across town." 

I left my home at 9 and went to the grocery store. I bought two pork loins, pork chops, Brussel's sprouts, apples, milk, a bottle of moscato, egg noodles, an onion, tomato paste, and a few other things. In other words, this was not a "just run in for a quick second" kind of trip. 

While checking out, the dude in front of me had some sort of mishap with his debit card, which held up the line. Afterwards, friendly Miss Connie (my cashier), took her time ringing up my purchase, talking about her favorite fried green tomato recipe and--of course--the weather. Did you know it is hot in Texas in August? The only response is, "It sure is!" But it doesn't move the grocery line any faster.

Rushing home, I dropped off the groceries, hugged Polly and took off again. 

Because it was on the way, I ran into my insurance agent's office to deliver a form they needed. Now then, one doesn't just "drop of a piece of paper" in the South. However, that little visit may get me some additional freelance work and hopefully cheaper insurance rates.

And the best news: I made it to my appointment by 9:57.

Obituary

Finn's opinion about another
Diamondbacks' losing season

Phineas Finnegan O'Malley Sunshine (2010ish to 2023)--known as Finn to his friends--left this world peacefully yesterday, surrounded by several family members and his vet, Doc P. 

An avid bird, lizard and scorpion hunter, in his younger years, Finn often brought in his trophies to show his loving family, causing several at-length discussion about the difference between "inside" and "outside" toys. 

Always the prankster, Finn enjoyed his time in Arizona, lounging on the staircase, tripping an unsuspecting Sunshine. Additionally, Finn relished in goading the 237 yappy dogs next door at 4 a.m. by laying on the block fence, extending his paw towards their yard and watching with great anticipation as they jumped on their nubby legs in their attempts to cajole him to join them in their rabblerousing. 

In his spare time, Finn perfected the art of holding down the floor, master bed, staircase and garden. After his move to Texas, Finn grew more subdued, agreeing that staying indoors better suited his talents and giving the birds of prey no reason to hunt in his yard. 

Finn was also an avid Diamondbacks fan and held several opinions about their bullpen's blown saves year after year, even offering to try out for the team himself, in an effort to improve their odds of making the playoffs. A life-long Libretarian, any night he could be found howling in front of the television until someone turned on Fox News for him to view. Ever the family-cat, Finn patrolled his home, ensuring every member was accounted for each evening. When Polly and Buck, might not make it home for the night or might be at summer camp, Finn often and frequently stood outside their doors, yowling, letting the rest of the Sunshines know we might have misplaced a kitten or two. However, Finn's true favorite activity was laying on his back and commanding any family member to rub his belly. 

Though born in Arizona, Finn was declared a true Texan by Doc P. (posthumously) and will be laid to rest in Wake Village, TX. 

Upon his arrival into Heaven, Finn was greeted by his best-pal-ever, Ollie the springer spaniel, as well as a plethora of other admirers and well-wishers. He is survived by his human family: Marty, myself, Buckaroo, and his absolute favorite person, the "blond kitten," Polly. Additionally, he is survived by his emotional support teddy bear, Pookie and his tolerated housemate, Luna the Dog. 

In lieu of flowers, the family is asking for recommendations for a reliable carpet cleaner who can remove the last several weeks' of feline biomass from the master bedroom floor. 

A wake and celebration of Finn's life was held at Cold Stone Creamery immediately after Finn's passing, with toasts to his wonderful contributions to the Sunshine Family.