Not One Little Bit

Because I'm still a licensed agent and for reasons too long to go into in this corner of cyber-space, my Arizona brokerage is still open for the next month. However, I'm not missing the Arizona real estate world. There, I said it. Why? Lately, on the super-secret Arizona real estate Facebook site, there have been a few stories that have given me heart palpitations. 

• Apparently a seller has sold a property twice--that would be two contracts at the same time on one house. Unfortunately, the seller, nor the agent, mentioned this to either set of buyers until after the earnest money was unrefundable. Oh... I want to be a fly on the wall for this meeting with the attorneys.
• I'm reading about bidding wars again--though I'm seeing the same in small markets like Texarkana as well. Inventory is low. Buyers are panicking. 
• There are multiple stories of unprofessional agents. An agent who personally threatened me a couple of years ago (and later apologized in a text by saying, "I haven't been myself,") has been posting about his antics. I hope someone nails this guy to the wall.  
• There are some listing agents insisting the buyer's agent pay $175 to submit their client's offer. I question the validity--I saw it happening before I left on a small scale. But I wonder why more brokers aren't crying foul. I was so enraged by this practice that the other day I put on my Big Girl Broker Voice (tm) and said my piece on the super-secret Facebook site. 
• An agent shared a story about a builder raising the price after a contract was executed by $75,000 and then telling the buyer if they wanted the "original price quoted" they needed to fire their agent so they could get a $75,000 discount. Please never buy a new build without a real estate agent. EVER. 
• Agents are telling their tales about crazy markets, squatters and Home Owner Associations overstepping. I'm hearing about rental nightmares and short-term rental craziness. 

At this point, I'm convinced being a real estate agent has to be the most dysfunctional of all dysfunctional occupations. As for me, I'm enjoying my sanity. 

HELP!

Do not bring
this to a sewing class.
 

 I may have mentioned a few months ago, my sewing teacher, Val accidentally ended up teaching a remedial sewing class. At the time, I took the class (again) it was because I wanted to get out of the house. What ended up happening was her students were having such a difficult time with some basics (like threading a needle) that I became Val's assistant.

To be fair, during that class, I always finished my project within a half an hour because I followed the directions and--per the requirements of the instructor--cut my fabric out at home. Also, I had enough rudimentary knowledge that I was able to help other students. I also became her, "Let's all gather around the sewing machine and see how this is done," Vanna White student. That particular class only finished two of the six course projects. Val was doomed from the start.  

That course ended and Val moved on to another beginning sewing class. I knew she was teaching another one, but with the master gardener program looming I didn't sign up for one more thing on my plate. Plus, I'm working on a few sewing projects of my own and didn't want to buy fabric for a pillowcase I didn't need or a garish oven door towel.  

Bring THIS to a
sewing class. PLEASE. 

And this brings me to this past week. On Tuesday evening, Marty and I went for a walk around Wake Village.  A text came in from Val. It said, "Help!!!!! Can you come to the school?" Given Texarkana College is five minutes away, and my walk was completed, oh... why not! 

I walked into Val's class and she looked up. "Great! I'm glad you're here." Val had eight students--a full house. There were TWO of the eight students with toy sewing machines. Most of her students seemed to be on par with the class. However, Val pointed to a 12 year old girl off by herself and introduced me to Maggie. For the rest of the evening, I was Maggie's private instructor. 

By the way, Maggie's mother was in the room--with a real machine (Maggie had a green toy), real pins, real scissors and real accessories necessary to sew. She was sitting nowhere near Maggie. I'm guessing that may be why Miss Maggie was so needy.* Maggie didn't have the right instruction, tools, machine or life experience to keep up . 

Given the sewing machine Maggie had to work with, her pillowcase came out pretty amazing. I loved watching her face light up as her project came together. Her seams were straight-ish and dare I say, it might have been the best pillowcase in the class. Next week I will bring a few extra items I have laying around for the poor girl so she can some decent tools--including a pin cushion, better pins and reasonable scissors.  

Yes, I'm planning on showing up next three Tuesdays. If nothing else, it will get me out of the house. And I'm guessing Val's class will be much smoother with someone giving Maggie a bit of attention. 

*This is not in any way to dog on Maggie's mom. I have been that mother who purposely sat away from my clingy kid so they could have another teacher/mentor offer them guidance. I wanted my child to have a win where I didn't direct it. So, I totally understand. Maggie would not have done so well if Mom had been hovering. And Val had a full load and didn't have time for the one-on-one attention Miss Maggie needed (it really is an adult class). But geeze Mom! Give the girl some reasonable tools to do her project!

A Tale of Two Book Clubs (part 2)

 About a month ago, I mentioned to Gail--she's one of the Church of Christ/Lunch Bunch/Coronas, I liked to read. We then got into an interesting discussion about books, stories, plots, etc. I told her I'd found the Texarkana Library's book club and then made a heavy sigh, filling her in on the crazy stories we've been reading. 

She told me about her book club. It is through the Church of Christ and invited me to go. "But I don't go to your church," I said. "That's okay. You are our sister anyway." (Squee!) She cautioned me that March's book--if I wanted to come--was a long epic Russian tale. She hadn't started it just yet, but she was looking at the book with a hairy eyeball. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"A Gentleman in Moscow," she replied. 

And this is where I went all book nerdy. You see, A Gentleman in Moscow happens to be one of my absolute favorite stories. Everyone should read this book! 

I started gushing about what an amazing story teller Amor Towers happens to be. I shared with her my observations and even found one of my favorite quotes from that book. 

"Why did you write the poem?"

Rostov: "It demanded to be written. I simply happened to be sitting at the particular desk on the particular morning when it chose to make its demands."

This month's Church of Christ book club meeting was this past Monday. A group of folks from diverse backgrounds (including the token Catholic) all met. Other than Gail, I hadn't met any of them before.* We were served a quick brunch, heard a talk from one woman who'd gone to Russia in the 1990s and showed us some of her treasures she'd brought back. We asked lots of questions about the culture and then settled down into the nitty gritty of the book. Each of us were able to speak, contribute to others and shape the conversation. It was enlightening and I left feeling like I was around a bunch of readers who wanted to discuss a story instead of rating it in on a scale of 1 to 5. By the way, Gail has changed her tune on this particular "long epic Russian tale," but may not be as giddy as I am about the story.  

More than one person invited me to come next month--Gail will be out of town. I hope I can make it. April's book is Painted Horses. I've already started it. But it is a letdown after A Gentleman in Moscow. But then again, most every book under the sun is a letdown after A Gentleman in Moscow. 

As for the library's book club. I hated the premise of April's book--The Fourth Hand. It also turns out I have a Master Gardener event that day, so I won't be going anyway. 

*Though I hadn't met any of them before, a delightful woman came up to me and said, "I think you know my sister, Leah. 

A Tale of Two Book Clubs (Part 1)

I originally joined the Texarkana Library's book club for the sole purpose of meeting people. It was last July. My home on Arizona Avenue was smothering me. I would have gone to June's book club, but I had workers in my home who just couldn't get a bathtub installed in under three and a half weeks.  

My initial expectation was the book club would be a diverse group of book nerds who wanted to have interesting discussions about that month's book and would bring to the table a unique, yet intelligent, perspective. 

What it turned out to be was Tammy the Librarian (and I assure you, she's pretty cool--just not in this setting) asking each sweet octogenarian (also awesome folks) as well as me and a woman named Joy for a rating 1 to 5 and ONE sentence about what we liked about the book. If anyone dares not to like the book (sigh) they are cast as a mini-pariah for the meeting--even if I point out obvious plot gaps like the killer had to know the victim because otherwise the storyline didn't go together or the fact everyone else seemed to miss out on the reason the main character was in Lake Superior in the first place was because he was committing suicide and that "pretend friend" that bothered all of the Book Club participants throughout the story was the main character's guardian angel. But I digress... 

At any rate, the books are tyrannically selected by Tammy the Librarian, who hasn't read them either. Tammy then buys them in bulk through Amazon and tells the Club members not to break the spine and return the books by the next meeting so they can be sent back to Amazon for a full refund. I have a significant problem with this and just get my own copies (usually through the library). So far the two best books we've read were a child's book and the Lake Superior story. Rounding third place was March's book (a 1970s sci-fi). However, we didn't meet in March because Tammy had a bum knee. 

At the end of the meeting Joy, who was an English lit major and I usually stand outside the library chatting and looking for validation ("You did recognize the main character was trying to kill himself? "Yes, but I didn't want to embarrass the rest of the group." "Do you think the characterization of the theme of rebirth was accurate?" "Absolutely. Great analysis. Too bad the book was horrible"), until we decide it is raining, freezing or could be better served moving our discussion to (whips out phones) say next Tuesday? Cracker Barrel or Indian food? 

The entire meeting lasts exactly 59 minutes, with Tammy saying she has to lock the meeting room door before she rushes back behind the check-out counter. 

A Random Saturday

Why are these
things relevant? 

Saturday morning, I nudged Marty and insisted he head out early. Well, "early" for us. So, around 10 a.m., we drove three miles to downtown to the "Texarkana Home and Garden Show," which was in an abandoned  building half the size of a Walgreens. We talked to a few builders (our goal), entered contests to win gift cards, ear buds and a "Mexican" dinner. None of these entries wanted more than our first name and phone number. 

Every single vendor was passing out can logoed cozies, which makes me think some slick promotional products salesman had a run on these things and managed to convince every business in Texarkana that these were hot items. "They are great for your pop," one plumber--bless his heart--told me, offering me two of them. "I don't drink soda," I replied. "Well, your husband can use them for his beer."  Ah... The South. 

I now have the name of a few builders who may want to bid on my mythological sun room, which is in the early stages of development. Stay tuned. 

Afterwards, Marty and I walked around Downtown--which is one street and three blocks long. It took us five minutes. We ended up at a burger place we'd wanted to check out. We've checked it out. Marty brought half his burger home for Buckaroo. I brought 2/3 of my burger home for Luna. 

Speaking of Luna, I then took her for a walk, where she tried to charge a toddler. Unfortunately, it was one of my neighbors. I know Luna was only excited to see a little person--she loves little people. Plus, because she was on a harness and a leash, and is 70 pounds of muscle, my right arm is now two inches longer than my left from controlling her. Fortunately, the parents of this little one were really awesome about the entire experience. They laughed. I was mortified. Luna's walk tomorrow will be in a very different direction.  

After all of that, Polly, Marty and I made it to our canning class at Texarkana College by 1 p.m. My sewing teacher, Val was conducting this class. It was a three hour information dump and I learned quite a bit--including to have a healthy respect for botulism. 

If it will stop raining long enough, I will finish planting my garden so I can actually have food to grow so that I will be able to eventually put in practice some of what I learned today. As a side note, Joy--a woman I met last summer--happened to be in the class. She's pretty awesome too. 

While in the class, Tessa called. She left a random voice mail about a house Marty and I "just have to see." We have first dibs! She told me all about how awesome the house was, but forgot a few details like the address and price. Marty and I are not interested. I don't even want to flirt with thinking about another house. However, I didn't call Tessa back. 

Instead, I put in my headphones, put on my audio book ("A Gentleman in Moscow"--everyone should read/listen to this book once a year) and went for a Luna-free walk. 

Gotta Love Those Texas Critters

True phone conversation yesterday with an Arizona friend. 

Friend: What are you doing?

Me: Weeding the flower bed. 

Friend: Sounds like fun. 

Me: Well, if I don't, the copperheads have a place to hide. 

Small Town Observations

 After living in a mega-metropolis all my life, I'm surprised at what is becoming normal while living in a small town. 

• I called Polly's doctor the other day. I asked that her medication be transferred to a different pharmacy. My reason for calling: she was at school and I'm her mother. HIPA laws be damned. I did the same with Marty's prescription at a different doctor. Nobody questioned this. 

• Worship music is everywhere: The dentist's office. Restaurants. Gas Stations. EVERYWHERE.

• Speaking of Worship, it is the culture. Polly and I attended a baby shower in January. There was a blessing before we ate. Marty's work's holiday Christmas party included a prayer before breaking bread. The police department (Arkansas side) went to Facebook, asking for prayers for a child who'd been injured during a crime. Every Corona party starts with a prayer. Buck's martial arts tournaments (which are not held in Texarkana) start with prayers. Polly's concerts start with prayers. It would be weird not to. I asked my Texarkana acquaintance who is not into the whole Jesus thing how she feels about this element of Southern culture, she said it doesn't bother her. "You do you," was her attitude.

• Roasted, braised, steamed and raw vegetables are mere suggestions. If the salad happens to be raw, it is mixed with--and I'm not making this up--mayonnaise (which, is gross). Otherwise, people eat breaded and fried veggies. On purpose. Often. As a side note, there probably aren't enough cardiologists in this town for the amount of fried foods that are served in restaurants. 

• People go out of their way to be kind. When I take my afternoon walks, motorists wave. I'm thinking it is a state law to wave to pedestrians, or it is a state law for pedestrians to wave to motorists. On several Texarkana Facebook groups I belong to, I see posts about "hey strangers, I need a ride to Wal-Mart, anyone heading that way from (the town of) Leary? May I tag along? Six people will respond. The same will go for "My mother is by herself and lives on 123 Elm Street. I can't get over there, but she isn't answering her phone, would one of you perfect strangers in the neighborhood mind checking on her? Nobody minds, and not ten minutes later we all will have an update on this person's mother. Speaking of kind, the other day I saw a boy, about 10, walking home from school holding his little sister's hand. She couldn't have been more than six--that level of kindness. 

• Even in the dumpier parts of town, litter and graffiti isn't a thing. Sure, the homes are older. Sure, there are run down neighborhoods. But these folks still take care of their yards. Their streets are clean. The other day I saw someone walking across a crosswalk, who stopped, and picked up a piece of trash before the light changed. I doubt I would have noticed this kind of thing in Phoenix, if it happens at all. You Phoenicians, please let me know. 

I Still Mean It

I've been up since 3 a.m. The "cat" has a horrible snoring problem that is keeping me awake. 

We need an extra room. Not a new house. 

This Time We Mean It

Also on Arizona Avenue--across the street and three houses down.

Tessa texted me today: "You need to see this house!" she said. And she was right. In fact, I'd seen that particular home on her e-mail drip the day before. 

The home had more bells and whistles than we could hope for: 

Four bedrooms, all with walk-in closets.

A laundry room. (YES!!!!)

Two (TWO) full-sized garages--that's four garage bays. 

A workshop in one of the garages. 

A pantry. 

No carpet. 

An extra half-bath, which we called the "cat box room."

A covered porch.

A new roof. 

And in the interest of full disclosure, it also had yucky cabinetry throughout, a dinky and poorly functioning kitchen and someone painted the fireplace brick navy blue. Plus, it seemed to suffer from the same lack of daylight all the houses in Texas seem to be plagued with. 

Buckaroo liked the house. He picked his bedroom. He picked Polly's bedroom (she couldn't come). He picked my office/craft room. Marty liked that the house was higher up than ours, so drainage wouldn't be an issue. I liked the fact it did not back the woods, so maybe we'd have less critters. However, the three of us absolutely hated the kitchen. And truly there was no way to fix the kitchen without opening up an exterior wall. 

Tessa walked around pointing out obvious features such as "the master is here" and "you will see in the kitchen there is a stove" and other futile comments. (Buckaroo tells me Tessa wouldn't last 10 minutes selling real estate in Phoenix. She's too "sales-y" and not enough "business-y")  

And then, Marty went back to work. Tessa went to her next appointment. I went for my three-mile walk. We agreed we'd talk later and decide if we were going to make an offer. 

When Marty arrived home that evening, I blurted, "I can't buy that house. I like not having a mortgage. And maybe the kids will eventually move out so this place won't feel so crowded." 

Marty agreed, though he said he would have gone along with that home if I wanted it. I told him I couldn't see past the awful kitchen and crummy cabinetry. Even with that fourth bedroom and a place for the cat box that wasn't in my bathroom, it still wasn't enough to move. 

I told Tessa we are not looking any more. I've been talking to an architect. He's made some preliminary plans for me. Later this week I will call him and ask him to finish drawing up the plans for our extra room. I have no illusions I can find a general contractor who can complete the work for me before the fall, but that's okay. At least we've made a decision to stay. 

Sewing and Upcoming Surgery

While the rest of the family ran to Dallas Saturday (under the excuse they "needed" to go to Costco), I spent the day working on a quilt for my niece. She's graduating from college soon. My squares are technically done. But I think the quilt is too small, so I think I'm going to add another four squares of each type before I sew it together. 

I also moved the sewing operation to the kitchen table, which was great for me but annoying for anyone wanting to eat. As of this writing, the sewing machine and all its accessories (fabric, tools, iron, pins, bias tape, clips, more fabric, scissors, rotary cutter, more fabric, two cutting mats, thread, rulers and more pins) are still there. 

 

I'm sewing more because I have a humongous, though benign, cyst tumor on the palm of my left hand. Typing is very difficult right now. I'd rather be writing. However, I can type for a duration of about 10 minutes before I have excruciating pain. Then I type with one hand and it takes longer. 

Like right now.

I also wouldn't mind gardening but the low was 29 degrees last night and I don't feel like playing outside with plants in the current 37 degrees. At least it isn't raining. 

The growth is being removed April 12. 

Proof

For YEARS we've told Buck, how girls stare at him. He hasn't believed us. This weekend, Buck had a martial arts tournament in Longview. Marty saw this girl try to catch his eye on several occasions. Buck was oblivious the entire day. 

Saying No

I've begun saying No to social events. As I have reminded my kids on occasion, NO, is a full sentence. Six months ago I had zero social events, other than the occasional text from Deb, inviting me to a once a month Church of Christ prayer group or a last-minute call from Tessa, saying, "The Coronas are getting together in 15 minutes, you in?" I jumped at a chance to get out of my home. Now, my calendar is full. And lately, it is full in part because the Master Gardener program takes up an amazing amount of time. But I've also met quite a few folks. 

As grateful as I am to be past feeling lost and alone, right now I'm also ready to introvert. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to talk to adults I'm not related to. I'm ecstatic to have live conversations with others who do not live under my roof. It's not just the Church of Christ ladies. I have actually managed to get to know a handful of others who are not affiliated in any way with that group. 

Other than Thursday's madness: TWO Master Gardener events in one day (sigh...), the Lunch Bunch ladies, and the one hour library book club I'm staying close to home this week. I've already turned down the movies. I turned down a trip to check out some historic site close by in Arkansas. I turned down a chance to help my sewing teacher Val work on the high school's costumes for next week's production. And I suspect there will be other this and that's heading my way. But I'm saying no this week and introverting.  

   

The Current Governor of Arkansas is from Texarkana*

I must say, of all the activities I've done since I've moved to Texarkana, Corona night has never disappointed. Last night was no exception. It's taken a year to write this: I finally feel like I'm part of the group. In fact, I felt so secure last night, that I opted to skip the dinner and show up late. My timing was perfect and I didn't have to go through the whole awkward, "I'm Catholic and don't eat meat on Fridays during Lent" or (worse) "I'm allergic to 95 percent of what you are serving" dialogue. However I showed up just in time for the games.

We played two games: Double Ditto--a silly card game. And Skipbo--another silly card game, and a crowd favorite. As a writer though, it was the snippets of conversations I enjoyed. Imagine these all said with a Southern accent. 

"What's y'alls foundation are you wearing these days? I need a new foundation. Mine is starting to make me look like a racoon with hives." 

"Anyone of y'all have the cataract surgery? I'm checking into it. But thinking being blind is a better option."

"My sister has a boot on her ankle and one of those scooter-things to get her around, she isn't driving any better with that scooter than she does in a car. Bless her heart." 

* "Did you see what Sarah proposed for teachers? Lord, I remember her as a little girl. She had sense then. Her Daddy needs to have a good long talk with her and straighten her up." "She was in my second grade classroom when I was teaching. Somewhere along the lines she got hit on the head."  

"Y'all want to go to Dueling Pianos? Don't know what it is, but pretty sure they use swords." "Do they use the F word?" "Maybe, so just close your ears." How am I supposed to hear the pianos?"

"Do you remember when she was new here" (pointing to me) "and said she liked goat cheese? That's the day we bonded." (I have no memory of bonding over this moment, but okay...) 

"It's nice of you to be home long enough from your world travels to have us over. Where you heading off to next week?" 

Said without a Southern accent: "Ladies it's been fun. Good night. I'm heading out. I'm working at a backyard chicken seminar first thing in the morning." (said with a Southern accent) "You can't go! You won the last hand. Get back here and give me a rematch." 

Welp, perhaps you had to be there. But rest assured, there was laughing and my heart is full. Hopefully my Backyard Chicken Seminar today will be entertaining as well. 

I'ma Just Gonna Leave This Here

 Man Fails DMV Job Interview By Saying He Is A 'Motivated Go-Getter'

SCOTTSDALE, AZ — After an unexpected layoff led to weeks of scanning job boards and submitting applications, local man Aaron Consola regained hope when he passed a screening and aptitude test and scheduled an interview with the Department of Motor Vehicles. Unfortunately, the interview ended soon after he described himself as a "motivated go-getter."

"I would be a perfect fit in any of the Maricopa County field offices; I'm self-driven, always growing, and a motivated go-getter!" Sources indicate that DMV hiring manager S. Lowe considered the interview to be "over" upon hearing this admission, pivoting the conversation to the large pool of qualified applicants and the stringent requirements for DMV employees.

"I'm sorry, but you're not really the type we're looking for here at the DMV."

Reports confirm that Mr. Consola felt "crushed" by the rejection and abrupt end of the interview, having sensed the room's atmosphere shift when he described himself as "driven" and then feeling a harder pivot when he launched into a testimonial of how he had earned a reputation for "going the extra mile" in a prior customer service job.

"I don't know what went wrong. I started sharing about my outside-the-box idea for replacing the take-a-number system with something more boutique and relational…maybe the hiring manager was worried I wasn't being innovative enough?" Consola told friends he may consider spicing up his resume with more aggressive language like "collaborative," "dynamic," and "self-starter."

At publishing time, Consola was seen dropping off his resume at the Post Office, confident that the addition of "high-energy" and "risk-taker" to his resume would secure him a job.

Source: Babylon Bee--otherwise, I could totally believe this to be true, as I have stood in line at the DMV in Maricopa County

The Great Tree Giveaway, Part 2

The second tree giveaway was held in Texarkana last Saturday morning. Before the e-mail went out, I sent my own proactive note saying something like, "If you have enough volunteers, I'd be happy to sit this one out. Please let me know." To which, the response came that nobody had signed up for this event. Therefore, I opted to go. 

After I replied, the leader of the Master Gardener group sent out a blanket note asking for volunteers. Because most of this group can't figure out how not to "reply all" I counted at least seven other Master Gardeners who should be arriving. That's a good number for this kind of event. 

Saturday morning, I arrived at Spring Lake Park--Texarkana's version of Central Park--at 8 a.m. That was the time mentioned on the e-mail. I was told there would be 800 trees this time, which was a far cry from the last event where we had 40 bags and we were done by 9:18 a.m.. And just like last time, people were already lined up waiting for their free trees. 

What wasn't mentioned in the e-mail was this wasn't a Master Gardener event. This was a City of Texarkana event. Those folks had arrived at 7:30. They had already filled the bags (we had 100 bags when all was said and done, not 800 trees) and had no idea any Master Gardeners were expected to arrive at all. The spokesperson I chatted with, said they didn't want to "waste paper" by putting the actual planting directions in with the trees (they had about 500 pre-printed copies of the directions, provided by the US Forest Department, from what I could see). Instead, the directions were only to be given out if someone demanded planting directions. 

With an hour to kill, Myra, (one of the Master Gardener trainees) and I snuck the box of the planting directions and started working the line. We walked up to every vehicle (the City of Texarkana employees summarily ignored the winding line RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM, instead, opting to eat their donuts), said hello to folks and gave them the planting directions. We chatted with the folks in line about what they could expect ("you will be getting a bald cypress, a chinkapin and an oak tree") and after a 10 second Google, said a few other comments like "plant the cypress in full sun." We also told anyone who wanted to hear--after all, we are a community organization--about the Master Gardener program and invited them to our class next week. 

At--I'm not making this up--9:05 the folks from the bureaucrats from the City of Texarkana decided they would finally give out the trees. Anyone who wanted more than one bag was told to drive around the line a second time. We didn't run out of trees this time, but the folks from the City of Texarkana decided the event was over with by 9:45. 

As I was getting ready to leave, the same woman who told me about not giving out the planting directions, pointed to the box (which obviously she hadn't opened) and said, "See, nobody needed those anyway." At that point, Myra and I made our exit and before she knew any better. 

The Surprise Party

Deb, the leader of the Coronas, turned 70 a couple of weeks ago. Last week, Krissy decided we needed to hold a surprise party for her. She sent out a pre-planned group text (which included Deb) saying, "Hey, I'm taking Deb out for dinner on Friday night to celebrate her birthday. Y'all coming?" We all texted variations of "No, can't make it," with some lies being much more specific than others. 

Then, all but Tessa (who had an Ole Brokerage event) and Gail, who happened to be in Hawaii, met up at an actual good restaurant in Texarkana and waited for Deb to show.  

It's fair to say Deb was surprised. She liked her gifts (I got her a little cross for her garden). She enjoyed her meal and her cake. She wore the crown and we all put on the silly hats for a picture or two. Then, we all laughed until our sides hurt.  

As for me, I don't take these kinds of interactions for granted. Even after a year, I feel like the new kid. I have no roots with these people. It was great to be included. And after so much time of feeling alone out here, it is even better to feel wanted.   

How It's Going

Welcome to North East Texas. 

We are under a Tornado Alert for the next 24 hours. And I'm the only one home. I am not panicking, but I wish the rest of my family would check in. Currently, I'm charging my phone and my extra battery. I know where my candles, flashlights, and food are. I've checked our spare water supply. Last time we were without power for 12 hours. Texts have come in saying that college might be closed tomorrow. That means, Polly's concert may be cancelled. 

I've moved the stained glass my father made to a safer place and when I'm done with this post, I'll drug the dog and give the cat a copious amount of CBT.  I also need to put out a puppy pad for Luna, who will ignore it and hold her bladder for as long as she can. 

Meanwhile, Polly--our weather nerd--is totally psyched. I've told her to make sure her bathroom is clean in case we need to shelter there. I will also clean out my closet so Finn has a place to sulk. Plus, I have a book to read. So, I'm ready.