I'm Not Making This Up

 I overheard a conversation the other day about the best ways to eat squirrel. The folks were discussing which spices they prefer as well as which veggies best accompany squirrel dishes--THERE'S MORE THAN ONE SQUIRREL DISH????. I couldn't get past the fact they eat squirrel to take any notes to report back to y'all.  

The Tuesday Night/Friday Afternoon Hang

My occasional Tuesday night/Friday afternoon hang, is a group of retired teachers. They also comprise my third book club. I don't think I've written about them, because I'm not as entrenched on a personal level. However, make no mistake, I think these ladies are just as wonderful--but in a different way than my church of Christ friends. 

The Church of Christ women are very sweet and Southern, preferring to keep topics to polite society, Jesus and family. 

My Tuesday night/Friday afternoon ladies are more down to earth, keeping their topics to family, politics, and one or two of them have been known to drop a four letter word when the occasion exists.

If you were to put either crowd in Downtown Phoenix, the Tuesday night/Friday afternoon ladies would figure out how to forage, catch an Uber and hit Scottsdale Fashion Square and then meet up in Old Town and close out the night. The Church of Christ Ladies would high-tail it to Mesa. Both groups would brag they had the best time--and I'd believe them.

I don't go out with my Tuesday/Friday group every week. Other obligations, etc. However, after being shut off from the world because of my foot, I asked Marty to drop me off at the restaurant Tuesday night. Turns out out a few of them remembered I had a birthday. My gift was pretty flowers and a lot of laughs from amazing women who bring out the best in me.

These Things Have a Way of Working Themselves Out

When all was said and done, I'm flying from Little Rock to St. Louis. Thanks to Southwest's fledgling business, I paid a whopping total of $54 for my round trip, 6 p.m. flight. I'd spend more than that in gas if I were to drive. 

The downside? There will be no Bevmo or Missouri coffee haul back with me. Looks like I'll just have to make another trip later in the year. 

4 a.m. Logistics

Foot permitting, I'm visiting Bliz later this month. The catch being how am I getting there. 

Living in the almost center of the United States, St. Louis is one of those almost-far enough away cities where flying doesn't always make that much sense. 

If I fly from Texarkana, I have two issues: the cost: $800, round trip, basic economy (non refundable) on Texarkana's only airline--American. And let's just pretend that wasn't exorbitant. The other issue is the flight leaves at 6 a.m. ONLY if the plane is there and the weather permits. At least once a week, that flight doesn't take off. So, I have a 1 in 7 chance of missing my flight. 

My Dallas leg takes off at 9:30 a.m. (there are later Dallas flights I could book but they are even more expensive up-front, and I'd have to wait around the airport). Doing some quick backwards math, if weather related, I'd probably find out the flight isn't making around 4:30 a.m., and then have to drive the three hours to Dallas-Fort Worth Airport--in the weather--park, get through security, etc., to catch my flight. If I miss it, I have to pay more. 

If I just book my flight out of Dallas, I would be spending the three hours driving to Dallas, the two-plus hours flitting around the airport, for my one and half-ish hour flight. In that time I could have driven to Bliz's house.

If I fly from Little Rock: the one hour nonstop* flights take off at 6 a.m. or 6 p.m. The morning flight doesn't cut it for me. Assuming a boarding time of around 5:30 a.m., I'd have to leave my home around 2:30 a.m. Clinton Airport is awesome, I can walk from long-term parking to the terminal in less time than it takes me to catch their shuttle. In fact, I think my best time from parking, through security to the gate is less than 30 minutes. Conversely, I can spend the night in Little Rock to catch that morning flight, but if I'm driving to Little Rock the night before, why not keep driving? 

The 6 p.m. flight is much more reasonable. However, if I were to drive, I expect I'd arrive in St. Louis by 2 in the afternoon. 

I certainly don't mind driving. The route is easy: I cut diagonal across Arkansas, then up to St. Louis. There'd be a lot more flexibility with my trip and I can arrive earlier in the day. I can leave when I want--or when Bliz gets sick of me. And, I can load my car up with St. Louis-type stuff we can't find locally or in Little Rock. I'd probably spend about the same amount on gasoline as I would on air fare, thanks to Southwest's Tuesday Web specials. The unknown is my still broken foot. Will it be up to a 500 mile drive?

*Why nonstop? Every other flight from Little Rock to St. Louis is more than six hours. By that time, I could have driven. 

Yesterday's Community Garden Coalition Class

I am part of the Texarkana Community Garden Coalition. We have several public gardens in Texarkana, available for the general public. You want a tomato, come get a tomato. 

Once a month, we find a willing crazy volunteer among us to put on a free class for the public. Last month, as we were lamenting the lack of help we were getting in planting our biggest garden, I came up with this wild idea: why not put on a Container Gardening class. It would include a quick presentation about the what, when, and where of Container Gardening and then, we'd just Tom Sawyer our audience to our empty garden and allow anyone who came to our class the opportunity to plant something themselves. I sold the idea as a "practical, hand's on approach." 

Now then, the end result is that we have a planted garden and a lot of excited folks learned the basics of putting seeds in the ground. The feedback I got from the public was positive. There are now several more folks around town who want to play with plants. And I have to tell you, it was a blast to watch the lightbulb go off over their heads as they figured out how to correctly put a tomato plant into the soil, how to plant carrot seeds and even how to transplant wheat grass. 

As a side note, there was an actual presentation to this. I was the presenter. 

My presentation had two hiccups: 

1) The head of the Bowie County Master Gardeners showed up to the class. I opted to introduce him and then turned him being there into a joke: "If I tell you the wrong information, it's because I didn't pay enough attention on the day Bill was teaching me." By the way, Bill is a cornucopia of knowledge (and he said I did great). 

2) I have a walking boot on my foot. I've been so distracted, I forgot about the presentation until this past Monday. But more to the point, standing for any length of time is very painful and I paid for it the rest of the day. 

Polly, my driver, took a few photos. That lady in the brown saw the advertisement for the class on our Facebook page. She said she wanted to learn to plant a garden--something on her bucket list. This woman asked me a few questions, took a bit of one-on-one instruction and then went like an Energizer Bunny, planting everything she possibly could. I never caught her name, but I watched the gardening bug hit her right about the time this picture was taken. When she was leaving, I hobbled over and handed her a collard greens seed packet. It was like handing her gold bullion--she now realized she could feed herself.  

Overwhelming Kindness

I'm overwhelmed from the kindness of others. 

First and foremost, while Marty and I have been laid up and was Polly in New York, Buckaroo stepped up without prompting. I'm blown away at what an amazing and responsible young man he's grown into. This past week, Buck's been handling extra chores, taking care of errands and all sorts of other tasks--all while holding a full-time job. And may I say, he's been doing all of the above with a cheerful heart. 

On Sunday, when he drove Marty to the airport, I suspected he thought he'd get a reprieve from the household chores from his sister, who was finally back on this side of the Mississippi. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Polly came home very ill. So, Buckaroo got up early on Monday--his day off--and drove her to urgent care. 

Which brings me to the rest of the "others" mentioned above. Word has gotten around in my small community that the Sunshines are a sorry lot. I've gotten offers for meals, rides to where ever I might need to go, and people to come over and keep me company, though they they beg off on coming over when they find out Polly is under the weather. I even have someone who offered to send their 14 year old son over later in the week to help me with my garden.  

What I'm discovering is though I'm touched by the outward support, we really don't need much. We have groceries. I have books, a sewing machine and my computer to write. Polly feels like sleeping. Buckaroo and Marty are working. However, in this case, it truly is the thought that counts. 

Hanging Out With People Who Play with Plants

On Saturday, I went to a Homestead Conference put on by Wood County Master Gardeners. Let me help you unpack that sentence. Here are the takeaways: 1. There are several of us crazies in East Texas who play with plants. 2. We are willing to drive two hours to Quitman, Texas to hang out with each other. 3. We can talk for HOURS about plants. 

There were five of us from the Bowie County Master Gardeners who made the drive (or in my case, the ride) to Quitman High School to learn about (among other things) seed preservation, container gardening, hügelkultur, herbs and Maple, the fainting goat.   

The big-city girl in me didn't consider until Saturday that high schools in rural parts of Texas (or anywhere) might have Agriculture classes. But they do. And let's face it, until my Peoplechow recipe is perfected, you want our young folks learning about agriculture. Anyway, the Homestead Conference was held in several agriculture classrooms. 

A sign in a classroom in Quitman, TX

After the conference, we Bowie County folks, took a few minutes moments a spell long while and went to the local botanical garden. They walked around while I rested my foot. And by the way, I HATE this walking boot. Incidentally, a word of warning: If you go to any garden with someone who likes plants, be prepared to be there a long while. This was the view from my bench. Eventually my friends found me again.   

Random Texarkana--The Mundane and Broken Edition

On Tuesday, I broke my toe and fractured my foot. I'm now limping along with a walking boot, which makes for fun  means I'm not driving. Between Marty's right shoulder and my right foot, this has not been a great week for our bones. Some couples when they have been married a long time start dressing alike. Apparently Marty and I are sporting complimentary medical paraphernalia.  

----

The following text might have been sent to my brother when I returned from taking Polly to the airport (prior to me getting the walking boot). "Can we all just normalize blasting Metallica while driving through small Southern towns at 4:45 a.m.?"

In related news, baseball starts next week. 

----

After nine weeks and one factory-mishap later, our house on Arizona Avenue has a working garage door. The timing was perfect. The second spring snapped Monday night--the day before the installation. The new door is quiet (our last one sounded like something from a haunted mansion sound stage) and it can be operated from our phones. Hence, the young adults now have access to the house via the garage. 

----

And finally: 

Living Her Best Life

 

Polly, Circa 2012

This morning I took Polliwog to the Texarkana Airport. She's on her way to New York City. Saturday, she and several select members of the Texarkana Chorale will be singing on stage at Carnegie Hall. 

Jack Frost's Last Hurrah

Today is the spring equinox. 

It is currently 31 degrees, which makes zero sense. It's been in the 50s overnight for the past three weeks. Plus, there are zero other days in the forecast showing freezing temperatures. 

Yesterday, like some sort of horticultural prayer chain, texts were flying reminding each other it was going to freeze overnight and everyone needed to take cover. Well, cover the flowers outside and take the spring plants which haven't been planted in the ground yet, inside. 

I'm not making this up.

These were all in my garage until last night. (grown from seed)

I have potatoes in my laundry room.

And other plants in my kitchen.

These were already inside because they were brought in last Fall.
But I'm ready for them to be back outside.

 

Fortunately, Marty is a Lefty

Friday I was talking to Ms. Ainsley, explaining to her March had been totally batty and I was looking forward to normalcy. She replied, "It can only go up from here." 

Oh, if only. 

Saturday night, Marty slipped in the bathroom. Three EMTs and a bored Wake Village Fire department (who came out for sport) later, he was off the ground and on his way to the emergency room with a dislocated shoulder. I would like to give a shout-out to the EMT who found a piece of cloth and Maguivered a sling for poor Marty, whose right arm dangled limply in an unnatural state. 

And here's the difference between big-city life and small town life. The EMTs told us one of the two hospitals wasn't taking patients at that moment. Therefore, they suggested we bypass both hospitals (the second hospital was taking the overflow) and go directly to the urgent care "near the convention center," instead. When I pulled up, I left the engine running, ran inside to ask for assistance and came back to find my husband, my car and my purse right where I left them. After shuffling Marty into the facility, I ran back in with my insurance card. And what do you know, my running car, my purse and my phone were still right where I left them.  

This wasn't your run-of-the mill dislocation either. I googled it later. Less than 1 percent of the population actually get posterior dislocations (combined with a clavicle fracture to boot). It took three burly men and a lot of morphine to put Marty's arm back in the socket. They had to actually move his arm to the other side of his clavicle prior to popping it back into place. 

All the while, Morphined-Marty was muttering, "that hurts." 

The doctor looked at me in the middle of this and said, "If it wasn't for the pain killers, he'd be screaming right now." 

Marty remembers none of this, including how the stabilization sling managed to be fashioned on him while he was laying down.

Oh yes, here's another tid-bit about small town life: HIPPA laws are a mere suggestion. I got to hang out in the room while all this was going on. I also helped them with the sling. I called the orthopedic today and they had no problem with my suggestion of looking at my file from last year to get our insurance info for Marty. What they did question was why we had 480 as our area code for phone numbers. Then I called Marty's primary care physician and asked that his medication be refilled, because he isn't driving for a bit. Could they send it to the Wake Village pharmacy please? Nobody there asked my name or for mine or his credentials.  

At this point, I'm hoping my maddening March will be showing promise of calming down sometime mid-April.

The Social Event of the Month

Today is the Miller County Master Gardener Plant Sale. Marty and I are meeting my pal Joy, and her husband Mr. Joy there in about an hour. Since 7:30 this morning, I've gotten about six text messages from various plant-type folks asking if I'm going. 

Incidentally, the Bowie County Master Gardener Plant Sale is next month. 

Just a Day in Texas

Free samples galore!

For months the young adults have been asking for me to take them to the Sweet Shop. They heard about my tour of this chocolate factory months ago and it has been on their bucket list ever since. At first, I figured it was just one of those things--sure, they want to go. After all, we are talking about young adults with jobs, lives and other hobbies that have nothing to do with their mother. 

However, my master gardener friend, Maria, has a daughter who is on spring break and also wanted to go. So, I told Polly  and Buck, if they were serious, take the day off and we'd trek the 70+ miles to go check out the chocolate factory. 

The 80,000 factory
 is behind that wall. 

And, much to my delight, they did just that.

When they were little, I loved Polly and Buck field trips. We'd sometimes have breakfast at the zoo, lunch at the Science Museum, or an afternoon hike at Usury Park and talk about Arizona. Some time during every hike, Buck would manage to get a piece of cholla in his shoe. Plus, one time they ran past a cranky rattler and didn't notice. When I caught up to Polly she said, "I thought that was a bird." But all that said, I miss those days. Good times. 

Sweet Shop Exterior

Our tour was wonderful. Polly, who is all into weather, wanted to know where the tornado shelters were in the building. As a baker, she also had a hyper-focused interest in the decorative process, as all these chocolates are hand decorated.  Buck, who is all into planning and logistics, wanted to know about the process of shipping out millions of pieces of chocolate every month. When the tour ended, the fine folks gave us as many free pieces of chocolate as we wanted. 

Afterwards, the five of us found Mount Pleasant Burgers--which has to be the best burger joint in East Texas. Then, we drove to New Boston, where I hopped out of the minivan and gave the keys to Buck and Polly. Buck had "plans" on his day off and had no desire to go on the next leg of our trip. Polly, when she discovered what Master Gardener Maria and I had in store, begged off, saying she needed to floss her teeth, check on the dog, or do anything else instead of coming with us. 

This picture doesn't do the joint justice.
I recommend clicking on the link. 

Then--and I assure you this was SO COOL!!!--Master Gardener Maria, her 11 year old hostage daughter and I went to my happy place. And frankly, this is now Maria's new happy place. Squee! The Little Country Green House, a plant utopia for those of us who like to look at plants. 

An hour and a half after entering this plant nursery I texted Marty, saying I spent less at Little Country Greenhouse than I did at the Sweet Shop and please acknowledge me for my greatness. Marty obliged. 

I came home with Phlox, Hosta, peppers, more peppers, a hummingbird plant, two dahlias, lupine and about three other plants I couldn't live with out. Oh yes! I also bought radish seeds and fire ant killer. Master Gardener Maria bought five shrubs, a daylily, and four other plants she couldn't live without. 

As my children grow up, I really do cherish these outings more and more. Buck wants to make a run to the Little Rock Zoo in the next month or two. I'm in. Maybe I can convince him to stop by a plant nursery or the Hot Springs Botanical Gardens on the way back. 

This Bombshell

Marty dropped this on me yesterday. He "needs" to go back to Dallas and get more of his specialty coffee. He wants to do it soon. Per the contract I signed 26 years ago, I am expected to go with him. 

He told me this because he wanted to give me anxiety a head's up.   

Super Tuesday

Last Tuesday night, 11 p.m. 

Let me start with the coolest part of my Tuesday: My pal, Deb (Tessa's bestie and the Queen of the Coronas) returned from her two months on a beach in Mexico Monday night. She had her choice of voting locations and purposely came all the way over to my site to vote. When I saw her, I may have squealed, ran across the room and hugged her, happy to see her smiling face. She looked tan, relaxed and happy.  

Now then, the rest of my Tuesday: 

So, the voting is over. I have no idea who won, as I haven't been out of my vegetative state long enough to check the score board. Given the number of voters who told me their preferred candidates (I didn't ask), I have a good idea. 

There were many die-hards, lacking the basics in civics, who came in just to vote in the Presidential primary, forgoing their right to cast ballots for Senator, Texas representatives, railroad commissioners, justices of the peace, dog catcher, prom queen and Little Miss Rice Patty. I guess these folks forgot that Little Miss Rice Patty sometimes has higher asperations and wants to eventually go on to bigger and better. 

The line at our location Tuesday was an hour wait. Nobody, I mean NOBODY, came in ugly, complaining or whining about standing in that line. Many times me or my clerks told these voters about other polling places close by where there were no wait times. And yet, nobody left the line either. We closed the polls at 7 p.m. However, anyone standing in line at 7 had a chance to vote. Therefore, our last voter left at 7:30. I should also note, I am absolutely astonished at the number of people who thanked us for doing our job. 

I would also like to point out that nobody, and I mean NOBODY, got the least bit nasty or disrespectful about their neighbor's countering opinion. Everyone seemed to agree we were on Team America. 

There was a faction of folks over a certain age who were beyond cantankerous about the new-fangled technology they were forced to use. "Why can't I just have a pen and paper like the old days?" Because of my Ph.D., in calming down Grumpy Old Men, I jumped from station to station, showing them how to use our voting machines. It is amazing how truthfully saying, "I like you. You remind me of my father. He used to say similar things in this situation," makes a difference and keeps them from rioting.

At the end of the night, I had to drive to the New Boston courthouse with my clerk and turn over my ballots. Every ballot was accounted for (YAY!) and then I drove my clerk to her friend's house in Arkansas--a tid-bit she neglected to mention when I offered to drive her home. 

I made it to bed by 11 p.m. and didn't even notice Luna taking up 3/4 of my side of the bed. 

There are four more elections in Bowie County this year, with the biggie in November. Do I want to be a judge in any or all of them? Not sure at this moment. I'll make that decision later when I am more awake. 

Day Off

Tomorrow is Super Tuesday. I'm not working at the church of Christ. This is a whole different location, with a different crew. And it is the busiest location in Bowie County. My co-judge, Ms. Ellen is amazing, wonderful and I am honored to have worked with her in the last election. However, Friday she was rushed to the hospital. So, now I'm working with my boss, Ritchie, a Bowie County Elections official. 

I happen to like Ritchie, but I don't want to work with him at the busiest voting station in Bowie County (Why, Ritchie did you assign clueless me here when there are 24 little churches around the county which won't be nearly as busy). The good news is I'm working with someone with more experience than me. Last week I was the "expert" when Kara left on her family emergency. 

Today to get ready for tomorrow's marathon, I've packed an extra set of clothes. You see, disabled folks have the option of "curbside" voting, where we take the machine to them. They don't have to get out of their car. It is supposed to storm tomorrow. All day. Those voters won't get wet.  

I've also made a batch of chicken enchiladas for my crew. We can't leave during the day, so last week Ms. Ellen and I arranged a potluck for tomorrow. One of our clerks is making her "cowboy soup." I asked what went into it. Here's what she said (hold on:): "I start with two cans of chicken noodle soup, I add two cans of Wolf Chili without beans, then I add a can of Veg-All and a can of potatoes..." and then I tuned out. We have two clerks who are under the age of 20 who will also be there. One is bringing chips and salsa. The other I've worked with before and I'll be thrilled if she just has a ride home. So, I'm happy to feed her. Now that Ritchie, a confirmed bachelor is my other judge, I'm getting the impression I'm feeding everyone. 

In addition to all that, I've set my three alarms for 4:00 a.m., 4:02 a.m. and 4:03 a.m.

Later today I have to set up the equipment at the voting station. Originally Ms. Ellen was helping me. I'm not sure who is doing it now. Fortunately, it's Buckaroo's day off. 

Today's other tasks included, washing the dog, deep-cleaning the kitchen and folding laundry, in case you were interested. I'm pretty sure you weren't, but I thought I'd throw it in there anyway. 

Here's to Democracy Republicacy in action.  

Playing with Dirt

Before one can play with plants, one must play with dirt. 

Yesterday, the weather and my time finally cooperated enough to put together this flower bed. Before it was a flower bed, it was just lawn and a frost-bitten oleander bush. I cannot confirm nor deny I might have covered up the sprinkler. I guess I will find out once I activate them again. 

I planted Texas Bluebonnets (which are lupines), daisies, zinnias and sunflowers. In an effort to impede the critters who like to eat flower seeds, I also put down copious amounts of cayenne pepper under that mulch. 

Next week I'll probably plant a few actual plants to go along with the seeds. 

By the way, in the morning, we watch the cardinals, blue jays, whippoorwills, siskins, chickadees and goldfinches eat their breakfast. We've seen an acrobatic squirrel or two attempt to help themselves to birdseed on occasion. I also have a hummingbird feeder, but it isn't currently out. 

Early Voting Day 4

Early voting (for me) is over. My 13 hour days have come to an end. Hallelujah!

I have a week to recuperate. My big-girl Presiding Judge voice (tm) is exhausted. More than once today I demonstrated how, "No" is a complete sentence.  

By the way, there is a faction of the population who need to learn a few things about Civics before casting their ballot. All'y'all are scaring me with your lack of understanding. 

Incidentally, if you walk into a polling place, announce you are high on an illegal substance and then demand to vote, it isn't going to go well for you. If you start talking on your phone while you are voting, expect the presiding judge to call you out on it. If you tell us you picked the "wrong" ballot because you want to vote for Marianne Williamson and Asa Hutchinson, we aren't going to be able to reissue you a new ballot. Please don't be those people. 

Please! 

The good news is I had two very competent clerks today. Through no fault of my own, I went through seven clerks in four days. Of those seven, three of them I would recommend.  One I would fire and not look back. Two I would suggest remedial training. Two I would promote to judges. One I would not promote to being a presiding judge because I like her too much and I know she doesn't want the job ever again. 

As for me, I enjoyed being a judge. I'm naturally bossy. I'm in a point in my life where I have enough outward confidence to make it look like I have a clue of what I'm doing and people usually take me seriously if I position my face the right way. I'm not Southern, so I don't feel the need to sugar-coat my, "you need to take your political signs down on my side of these cones because we both know you are flagrantly breaking the law," talk with candidates and their surrogates. 

I also like preserving our country's right to free and fair elections. 

I like that part a lot.

Next week is Super Tuesday. I'm going to miss working 13 hours a day, because working on Super Tuesday is a much longer day than that. 

By the way, please be kind to your election workers. Thank them for what they are doing. In some parts of the country, they don't get paid. In Bowie County, we make a pittance, but I'm not doing this for the money. If you think of it, ask them what they want to drink and bring them a bottle of water or something back from Sonic, QT, or McDonalds. I promise you that will be so well received. Election workers are thirsty folks who have to talk all day. 

Night all. Tomorrow I'm playing with plants and I'm sleeping in until 7 a.m. Can't wait.  

 

The Voting Polls Day Three

Should have brought a book

The day started with a flurry of texts from Darwin and Squirrel. Well, to be fair, every day starts with a flurry of texts from Darwin and Squirrel. We chat every day. 

Today's texts were different. Today's texts were about Dad. And our tribute to him. We sent pictures. Made ice tea comments and made inside jokes only the three of us and Dad would get. I miss my daddy. I'm glad my brothers understand. 

All this was going on while I was working the election site. When it is slow, I don't mind if the people working are on their phones. After all, there is only so much we can discuss at 8 a.m. otherwise, we stare into space, looking stoned. For those with the foresight to bring a book, the more power to them. I was not that person today. 

We had two new clerks (you may remember my head clerk was promoted Saturday afternoon when Kara left with a family emergency). Clerk A seemed to have her act together. Clerk B was a little more discombobulated. Both clerks are old enough to know how to act.  

Clerk B, never really got her act together. She shopped on her phone and planned her daughter's wedding every chance she got. I had to remind her three times (three times!!) to keep her equipment--which is normally plugged in and there's no reason whatsoever it should be unplugged--plugged in. At the end of the day, the head of the Bowie County elections called me wanting to know why one station was at 30 percent, letting me know that any equipment under 100 percent battery was unacceptable. I wanted to know why this was the case too, but I gave up four-letter words for Lent. Anyway, you get the idea about my day with Clerk B. She won't be there tomorrow.  

Turns out she too is in the Master Gardener program. She questioned if I was really in it, because she didn't see me Saturday at some event. Nope. I was working the election. 

It's supposed to be the Easter Bunny,
not a caterpillar

We had two complaints today. One from a woman frustrated because she felt there wasn't enough signage in the parking lot of the Church of Christ (where the elections are held). I'm sure if we had a neon arrow, and a conveyor belt which would carry her car to the designated spot, it would not be enough signage. But, I took down her concerns, and passed them along to the Powers that Be.

The other complaint was from a woman who was not voting. She wasn't even in the voting room. However, she felt the people in the room were too loud and it was unfair for those who were voting. Her specific complaint came in when a group of older men were checking in and their voices were booming. Oddly enough, she and the people she drove to the voting place stood outside the room after she whined to me talking loud enough that I'm pretty sure Arkansas got an earful. However, I registered her complaint with the Powers that Be as well. 

Around 5:30 Polly arrived with Chick-Fil-A. It was a surprise dinner for me. She told me she met Buckaroo at the restaurant who was also planning on buying Chick-Fil-A for me! However, she beat him to it. 

One more day this week. I'm looking forward to sleeping in until 7 a.m. on Wednesday. 

Dads and Moms (Day 2)

One of many symmetrical designs.

Let me start by saying, whoever decided the polls should be open on a Saturday from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. needs to come see me. We need to talk. It's a stupid idea. It means I wake up at 4 a.m. and have to be people-y all day. Especially when I'm in charge. 

I will also say around noon I texted Marty and told him he needed to gather bail money. Kara was on my last nerve. I think that was about the time she started bragging to everyone about "tarantula season" in Arizona. Or maybe when she started bragging about how she should have a PhD in property management because she's rented so much. Or maybe it was when she shared her sage (and extremely unpleasant) opinion on Catholics. 

For the record, there's an awesome app on my phone called "Happy Color." It kept me busy so I didn't have to respond. 

Also for the record, Kara's okay as a person when I'm not trapped in a Breakfast Club scenario with her for 12+ hours at a time. I don't see us being besties but in small purple patches she's fine. Oh, it also turns out she's in the master gardener program too, so I'll be seeing her more.  But enough about her. (for now).  

Back to Early Voting at the Church of Christ on Saturday in Texarkana. We had a trickle of people in 12 hours. The good people of Texas paid their tax money into having folks like me sit at the election poll, color on my phone, play with "I voted stickers" all while making polite small talk. 

We did have one gentleman come in. He is 88 and was cantankerous as anything. He used a walker. originally refused to give photo ID--giving my new clerk a hard time--and griped about all the "technology" associated with voting these days. The three Southern women I worked with cringed, unsure how to approach him. He seemed to chew their politeness out and spit it back as venom. As for me, I cracked my knuckles, got my best no-nonsense face on and said hello. All the while, all I could think of was how much I missed my father, because everything from his crusty-on-the-exterior demeanor to his disability reminded me of my Dad. 

Normally I don't offer to assist voters (we help when THEY ask), but I already figured out that he just wanted attention and most of what he was doing was a ruse. I brought him a sample ballot. I talked with him for a moment and even moved the chair out of the way in front of the voting station so he could sit on his walker instead. I showed him all the fun features (like the "next" button) the voting machine had. I even listened to him give his opinions about the candidates. When he was done voting, his rough exterior had melted and he'd taken the "I voted" sticker from me. As for my co-workers, they were impressed. He'd been the toughest voter we'd had. 

When he left, I went in the bathroom and wiped my eyes. Monday will be two years since Dad died. It's been on my mind for days.  

The afternoon wore on, and we made more small talk, I colored more pictures, and I made more designs with the "I voted stickers." Just so you know, it is against the law to take pictures in the voting room. So, the picture I took was because we all moved the table to the doorway during one of the hour-long lulls we had. 

Sadly, Kara received unfortunate news around 4 p.m. Her mother had been hospitalized and she is several hours away. Kara left early and won't be returning for the remaining shifts. Therefore, because I need a co-judge, I deputized one of my clerks. 

Part of me is thrilled I won't have to work with Kara for the rest of this election. However, I also remember how I felt when my father was hospitalized and I was out of town. It is a feeling of abject helplessness. For her sake I hope this is a false alarm and her mother is fine. 

Day One Done

Today (Friday) was my first day of being a precinct judge for early voting. I was one of two judges. The other one, Kara, belongs to the other political party--assigned this way by design. We also have two clerks--one from each political party--working at the polling place. 

Earlier in the week, I'd reached out to Kara to introduce myself. She didn't respond. I then took the initiative of sending out an e-mail to our team, introducing myself, setting the schedule and breaks, etc. I bring this up, because given she couldn't bother to get back to me, I had a feeling I knew what I was in for with my co-judge. And I was not wrong. 

The good news is I have only three more shifts with her. The bad news is she reminds me too much of Marty's sister-in-law (his brother's wife), who will not lift a finger to help with anything, whines about how horrible her life is and has to one-up everyone around her. If you won the lottery, she won it twice. If you lost your grandmother, she lost two grannies and a cat. Anyway, I have three more 13 hour shifts with Kara.

I'm not making her sound worse than she is. However, I am making my threshold of tolerance sound lower than it is. Pretty much, I tuned Kara out most of the day while she blathered on to the clerks.  

Kara's abject laziness and non-stop talkativeness aside, today went well. There was one slight hiccup. I stepped outside to eat lunch when the tabulation machine started beeping. One of the clerks hunted me down to tell me I needed to get back into the voting room right away, as if my mere presence could stop the beeping. It could not. 

The only other interesting tid-bit is I kicked out a Southern woman who started talking trash about "those people." I was horrified. I have experienced racism one other time since I got here with a member of the Ladies Auxiliary (and probably one of the primary reasons I don't want to hang out with them). My feelings then and now aren't different. If the woman I kicked out today feels the need to call the Secretary of State's office to report me, I will give her the number. 

Overall, I enjoyed my first day. Corona Patty and Corona Gail stopped by to vote and say hello. Many people thanked us for working the voting polls. With few exceptions everyone tended to be polite and friendly. Now off to sleep. I need to be back at 6:15 tomorrow. 

Random Texarkana (Small Town Stuff)

On the Facebook Texarkana Metro site last December: someone posted they lost their debit card in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby. They were currently forty miles away. Would someone be so kind as to head over to that parking lot, take a peek and if they find it, the owner of the card would be happy to cashap a few bucks to them for their time. The following post a few hours later was the same person, praising the sweet man who went over to the Hobby Lobby parking lot and found the debit card. 

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Our garage door is broken. It is a major inconvenience. It will be another three weeks before our new replacement door comes in. Meanwhile, I'm using the front door for all egress and ingress. However, I keep forgetting to lock the door. I realize Luna will probably scare away anyone with impure motives, but the big-city girl in me should know better than keeping the door unlocked. In fact, I'm home right now and my front and back door are both unlocked. I do that now. 

However, two weeks ago, Wake Village had a rash of violent crime, all within 24 hours and all on the same block. This has been the ONLY violent crime since we moved here. A juvenile shot his father (non-life threatening). A man stabbed his two girl friends (also non-life threatening). Another man took off with his brother's car and the brother held on and was dragged down the road (also non-life threatening). The first two were immediately apprehended. The car thief's brother's face was plastered all over--you guessed it--Facebook and was found and caught within 24 hours. All are being held in the bi-state jail. 

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I left my house ten minutes from my appointed meeting time at the barbecue joint on Stateline Road, which is roughly six miles from my home. Anxiety set in, I wouldn't have dreamt of leaving my home ten minutes prior to an appointment and having to drive six miles in Phoenix. Without speeding, I made it in seven minutes. I really need to chill out about travel around here. 

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Nobody--and I mean nobody--gives directions based on cross streets. Want to know where the Dairy Queen is? It is across the street from the old K-mart. Where's the old K-mart? Right next to the Dollar General located near the skating rink which isn't there any more, because "they" turned it into a car wash. Want to know where the book store is? In the old print shop on State Line, next to Mr. Tupper's former gallery (which went out of business 26 years ago). If you can't find these places, just go to Facebook. Nobody here has an actual Web page. They all use Facebook. 

Cheese, Beverages and Dallas

Texas Bluebell Fabric
Squee!!!

I might have mentioned this before: Marty Sunshine hates to go anywhere by himself. Anywhere. And now that the kids are older and more independent, it is left to me to honor the fine print of our marriage contract and make that !%*&$ drive with him to Dallas. 

It isn't that I don't like Dallas (okay, it's a big city. I'm done with big cities. They drain me.). It's just that I don't know my way around Dallas. And between Marty and myself, I'm the one with the better sense of direction. Anyway, for the third trip in a row, that's how I spent Saturday. 

Our first stop was a quilt store. I offered to help him find a chair and get comfortable while I looked around, but honestly, as far as quilt stores go, this one wasn't that great--though I found some Texas bluebell fabric. I've already warned him there will be other quilt shops in the future. Dallas has several. 

We then went to Winco which seems to be the closest place to us that sells this one type of coffee Marty can't seem to find anywhere else. We also stocked up on the non-perishables we can't find locally. If you need small jars of adobo chilies. Hit me up.

And, because I had to go to Dallas, I wanted a reasonable lunch. Fortunately, Dallas has restaurants. We found a place with fabulous grilled cheese sandwiches, which we shared and chased down with a flight of beer. Not necessarily a culinary paring. But hey! I live in Texarkana where "culinary pairings" include brown gravy and boiled okra. 

After lunch, we hit up Trader Joes and got Marty's tea. We bought several other things as well. My freezer is now full. And as much as I would have loved to have bought the ice cream sandwiches, I doubt they would have survived the drive home.  

On our way out of town, we stopped by Costco and ordered a cheese pizza for the young adults. They love Costco cheese pizza. Too bad we didn't buy any beer to pair it with.  

I Promised

My favorite human (and nephew), Patrick, called me last week. He told me he will be getting his black belt in karate later this year. He said, "Remember how you promised you'd come to my black belt ceremony?" I do remember. He then threw this at me: "Awesome!!!! I will see you in August!" 

Sure, Fine, Why Not?

 I am a Presiding Judge for the upcoming Presidential Primary Elections. This happened for a litany of reasons. 

1. Deb fled the country is on vacation in Mexico until some time in March. She usually has this role. She hates me thought highly of me enough to suggest to Ritchie, one of the Powers that Be, I might be a good fit. 

2. My political affiliation made me a good candidate for the position. They already had enough Presiding Judges from the other party. Though Texas doesn't have voter registration based on political parties, the voting places still need this represented for some reason. 

3. I didn't say, "not it," when Ritchie asked for volunteers. Actually, Ritchie called me directly and inquired about my day. He had "God Bless America" on Muzak in the background and talked about our God-given freedoms, the Constitution, and the American way. Then he sprang it on me that he "needed" me to be a judge. Okay, the second sentence didn't happen--but it felt like it did. 

Anyway, I agreed--this once--to be a presiding judge. This once, Right? Who am I kidding?

Phyllis is Right

 

Luna-Tic

Luna LOVES toys.

The two weeks of winter has subsided (for now). My tulips are starting to sprout. No word from my daffodils and crocus bulbs I planted, but it's only February 1st. Luna is no longer spending the day, hiding under the blankets.  (More recent pictures below because, reasons.)

The warmer weather is bringing out the puppy in her. Therefore, every day she and I go for a walk.  Unfortunately, even after copious amounts of obedience training, Luna still has a bit of a rebellious streak. Any stray squirrel, armadillo (no kidding), possum, cardinal, chickadee, blue jay or cat requires me to restrain all 70 pounds of muscle and repeatedly command her to heal. 

Plus, after we adopted her, we found out Luna had been a bait dog before we rescued her. She's been traumatized by other dogs and that's just the way it's going to be. Therefore, if any of my neighbors--which seems to be ALL of my neighbors--have their unleashed dog out in the front yard with them, I live through a special hell. 

My other option is not to take her on walks, which is like holding a tightly wound spring in my hands for hours at a time.  I'm thrilled Luna is still so active at her age. Even better, I'm glad I'm getting such a great resistance training workout every day. I just wish my arms were still the same length. 

Luna in January

Luna today, after her walk

Sewed In

Because I spend most of my waking hours working on the Great American Novel, part 2, I recognize the need to do something--anything--else once in a while. One of the more fun aspects of these projects is that my brother, Darwin, has been texting me quite a bit lately. So, I sent him pictures of my progress. He is floored I learned how to sew. 

This past week, while snowed in, I sewed this for Corona-Jenny's upcoming birthday. She likes red trucks. Jenny, like most of the Coronas, is heading to Mexico next month to hang out with Deb. Where it is warmer. Much warmer.  

I will not be going to Mexico. There are several reasons for this, including our garage door just broke a week after we paid for a new exterior gate and partial fence repair.  

Corona Suzy, who happens to be one of my favorites of the Coronas, has a birthday this week. She is going on the same trip to Mexico. I made this without a pattern and after watching several Youtube videos on how to assemble such a bag. Polly, who also has an upcoming trip (not to Mexico) is now strongly hinting she'd like something like this. 

 

Local Celebrities

This past week, I had two experiences, which showed me how much the locals love their beloved folks who've made it. 

Thursday night, I substituted for a (non-Church of Christ ladies) Bunco, which was held in the back room at one of the local deep-fried hamburger joints on Stateline Road. This was the first time the Bunco group met at this location. When the owner came to check on us, one of the organizers said the location was perfect. She then asked if they could book this place the third Thursday of every month for the remainder of the year. 

The owner replied with, "Well, as long as the Governor doesn't need the room, it's fine with me." 

I piped up, "We will just invite Governor Abbot to join us." 

And then the room went silent. All dice rolling ceased. All eyes were on me. The manager looked at me with pity. Someone cleared her throat then said. "You mean Sarah." Oh yes! I was on the East side of Stateline Road. I hadn't thought about the fact I'd crossed into Arkansas.

Then came all sorts of vetting for the Governor of Arkansas. Someone taught her Sunday school class. Another had her father (and also former Governor) as their preacher back in the day. Someone else was friends with Sarah's mother... and the list went on. By the time the conversation ended, everyone in that room had some sort of one degree of separation from Governor Sanders except me.  

_____

Friday night Corona-Krissy, Corona-Patty and I--along with most of Texarkana, apparently--braved the weather and attended the Temptations concert. The one hundred year old Perot (another local celeb) Theater was sold out. 

You see, one of the city's own, had come back. Otis Williams, the last surviving founding member of the Temptations, is from one of the Texarkanas. I'd point out that he left here (TX? AR?) when he was eleven and spent his formative years in Detroit, but why bother? The day before there was even an unveiling of an Otis Williams mural in the area in his honor. 

I'm pretty sure, given the conversations around us, anyone over a certain age also had a one degree of separation from Mr. Williams. In fact, there was a sweet elderly lady who stood up the entire concert, dancing-ish, who claimed she might have been his third grade teacher. 

By the way, Otis Williams is 82 and can still dance and sing. It was a great concert. Much better than Alabama's "I owe my bookie and need some cash so I need to tour" Tour some of us attended a few months ago. 

A few photos of the mural and the concert below. 

 

Hotel Texarkana

 "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave." --Hotel California, The Eagles

The minutes from last week's Ladies Auxiliary meeting came in. I thought it was a mistake they sent it to me, because I'd made it clear I was no longer part of this group. In the event there was a miscommunication, I opened the notes, hoping somewhere in there it might be documented that I wasn't part of this group any more. Instead, I found two bits-o-shenanigans. 

1. Though I said very clearly in September that I would not be the secretary of this group, according to the minutes, I am the group's official secretary. In the event I opt to loose my mind and join them again, I will do such a horrible job they will immediately fire me from the position I DO NOT HOLD NOR AGREED TO HOLD IN THE FIRST PLACE.* 

2. The minutes also read said I was taking a break for a "month or two." 

I'd e-mail the person who is "covering" for me--it said that in the minutes too--and correct the record, but I think I'm just gonna let them be them. It makes for good blog fodder and life it too short to be worked up about their audacity. Revenge will be mine. I'm writing a fiction series about the Catholic Church in the Diocese of Tyler. I think there might need to be a Ladies Auxiliary Club in one of my books.  

*For the record, if I wanted to be part of this group AND they had asked me, I would have happily obliged. It isn't that difficult to take a few notes and read a few letters. 

I'm One of Those

Public Service Announcement

If you are driving in 22 degrees, and you are one of those people who like a pristine windshield, and see a spec of dust on it, do not turn on your automatic windshield washer and then your wipers. And I recommend, if you don't follow the above advice, don't do it while you are turning left in the only busy street in your city. 

By the way, in the event you are curious what could happen, I have it on good authority that the water will freeze and affix to the windshield. It makes visibility zero. 

Bi-Polar Weather

It appears winter is upon us. It also appears I had no earthly idea what "winter" consisted of, while I resided in Arizona. If there's anything I miss about Arizona other than the people I love, it is reasonable January weather. 

I'm still not entirely certain I understand the concept of an East Texas winter. Two years ago, when we moved here, it did not get about 40 degrees for the entire month of January. Last year it did not get below 40 degrees and it isn't an exaggeration when I say it rained all month. 

On a side note, my mother lives in Vermont. My mother loves Vermont and glamorizes the weather. She cannot fathom why I have no desire to live there. But I digress...

Anyway, January 2024 in East Texas has promised to be cold. However, East Texas can't decide if this is normal or not. Lest you think I'm grossly exaggerating: 

• Two days ago we were under a tornado alert (which is finitely more disturbing than the usual "tornado advisory.") We had everything set up, including putting painter's tape on the windows, moving my father's stained glass to safer places, making sure we had drinking water, charging our phones, and drugging our overly-anxious dog, Luna, so she wouldn't freak out when the thunderstorm hit--but she freaked out anyway.
• Today's low was 19 degrees, the high is allegedly 58 degrees (I've felt 58 degrees before. Mother Nature and I will just have to agree to disagree on this.). 
• Tomorrow's low is expected to be 18 degrees and the high is expected to be 25 degrees. 
• Next Thursday's low is expected to be 26 degrees and the high is expected to be high is expected to be 52 degrees. 
• Next Friday's low is expected to be 17 degrees and the high is expected to be high is expected to be 38 degrees. 

You may have noticed I skipped Monday - Wednesday. That was on purpose. On those days, I will be longing for the 25 degree low. In fact, according to the bastion of truth, the Internet, we won't even see 25 degrees. As an added bonus, it's supposed to snow. 

Buckaroo works in a job which requires him to be outdoors for several hours. This past week I went online and bought him two hats and a scarf. Tomorrow he will be buying long underwear. But first, I had to explain to him what long underwear is because he thought I'd made up the term.  

In addition to all that, we have alarms on our phones to remind us to turn on the water faucets before we go to bed. We discovered that water pipes do freeze overnight. Which brings me to this burning question: why is it the conventional norm around here to keep the hot water heater in the garage if it is supposed to freeze for up to two months every year? Speaking of hot water heaters and alarms: we also have an alarm to turn on the space heater in the garage for a couple of hours at night to "heat up" the garage prior to going to bed. The theory being maybe the water heater won't freeze. But experience tells me it probably will. 

Ode to Joy

A friend of mine told me recently to surround myself with people and events which bring me joy. Those words I've taken to heart and it has made a huge difference in my everyday choices. 

Yesterday, I received a group thread text from the Catholic Ladies, saying they were having a meeting this week. Wait! I thought they met on the third Thursday of the month? And crap! I had nothing booked to counter this stupid meeting. Plus, they are going to an expensive restaurant where more than half of the menu consists of shellfish. 

And then I started brewing.  

Originally, I figured I could just fade away and some organized person would drop me from their volunteer list. Given that hadn't happened, I took action. I called the woman who brought me on to this group and told her this wasn't the season for me to be involved. I needed to step back. 

Frankly, I'm sure this isn't news to anyone in this group--if they even think of me at all. And given last time they were looking for volunteers to clean the church nobody signed up to help me, I'm going with nobody is thinking of me.  

Letting this go has made my heart lighter. I'm happier. I am feeling the joy.  

New (to Me) Sewing Chest

I bought this ratty wooden chest at the thrift store for $10. It was dingy brown and falling apart. Now I wish I took a "before" picture or two. Some critter had chewed the legs and top. After a bit of love, I transformed it into my new sewing supplies storage chest. 

Don't look too closely at it. There are a lot of mistakes, but I really needed a storage chest more than I needed perfection.