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.