Winter's Wicked Game

We are expecting winter weather this next week. The weather broadcast Polly religiously watches is predicting snow next week for Galveston--Galveston!!!! As for where I live, the jury is out on precipitation. However, we are slated to to drop into the teens every night starting tomorrow. 

Normally I don't mind winter weather staying in January. However, our heater went out this morning with an ozone-induced fizzle, making those who were home scramble to ensure we didn't have a fire burning anywhere. Buck ventured into the attic and nosed around only to find out the strong burning electrical smell just happened to be coming from there. 

The unit is under warranty. However, the guy who put it in is out of town until late Saturday night. The "earliest" he can come out is Sunday morning, when Marty will greet him at 10 a.m. come hell or high icebergs. Hopefully he has the part on-hand to fix whatever broke. 

As for the Sunshine's, we'll be fine. Polly is house sitting for Tessa this week. So, anyone who has more desert rat attitude than pioneer spirit can lodge with her. I have long underwear, wool blankets and a burning desire to introvert. Plus, someone needs to keep Luna company. 

Winter is Coming (Maybe)

 

Texarkana Today

As I was leaving for my drive to Little Rock yesterday, the storm chasers, the Facebook hysterics and Polly, our weathernerd, were telling us the 7 inches of snow predicted for next week would be arriving precisely Thursday (today) morning sometime. Texarkana already took precautions of running out of French toast basics, having medical providers cancel appointments, banks closing, canceling school for the elusive "snow" day and the like. 

Even Little Rock got into the action. Snow plow drivers meandered through the city, rehearsing for their big moment--and not in the least whatsoever driving like cocaine-addled baboons who do not know how to operate snowplows on Interstate 30. It wasn't much of a problem. Kinda. Maybe. 

Airport officials told us it was fortunate we were all going to our destinations when we were because most likely the airport would be closed on Thursday. Sadly, I wasn't checking a bag, so I left my heavy winter coat inside the car to I make the 2 minute trek from long-term parking to the terminal. It occurred to me once we were in the air and I checked my connecting flight, I had 30 minutes to make my plane. So, if something went wrong, I'd be stuck in Saint Louis without a coat. Fortunately, Bliz lives in Saint Louis. But I didn't get stuck. 

Florida Today

Instead, I'm in Florida introverting with my brother. We've worked on a jigsaw puzzle while he smoked a brisket. We've talked, laughed and laughed some more. This is the first time I've seen him since my father died--and that wasn't a time to laugh. Speaking of Dad, his ashes are at Darwin's house, so we've gotten reacquainted. I'd like to tell you I'm cold, but that hardly seems fair when the temperatures didn't reach 32 degrees today in Texarkana. But it was cold for Florida. 

And Texarkana didn't get snow. They might see snow tomorrow. According to my sources, it will be melted by the weekend.  

Namiste

The Crow.
Don't try this at home.

"Yoga" in the South isn't what I'm used to as a transplant from the Southwest. My memories of yoga classes included thirty folks in a large room, built into a former grocery store-turned corner gym where there was lots of room to move, breathe and sweat. Well, that is except for the evening classes, which tended to be packed with about 60 people all holding Warrior One. 

Generally, the teacher, a tiny child my daughter's age, made sure to run up to me after class and give me fake platitudes about how great I did--which always bugged me because I was the regular and the teacher was whomever was on rotation. Nor did I need the atta-girl. However, this way they could mark it on their checklist they "encouraged*" a potentially reluctant and uncoordinated fat lady. 

Yoga here is a bit different. First, there are three studios in town. Two are on the Texas side. One is downtown, on the Arkansas side. All are about equal distance from my house, about four miles. Sadly, all are into hot yoga more than I am. All pretty much run the same type of format. I go to the one on the Arkansas side because it offers a wider variety of classes, including "chill flow," which seemed to be just regular yoga without the heat jacked up. 

Each class of about seven, held in a room the size of my master bedroom, starts with--and I'm not making this up--prayer requests. Someone's daughter has a broken toe. Someone has to travel to Dallas and it is supposed to rain. Someone's friend is struggling with cancer. Someone just passed a tough test (also a part of prayer known as a "praise") and then this is added into the warmup. 

The playlist music is the easy-listening Christian variety, found blasting through several local retail establishments. The poses are the same, without the chaturanga dandasana transitioning to the downward dog--not that I miss planking, because if any aspect of yoga could go away, this is what I'd pick. The yoga teachers around here like to emphasize a few harder moves and encourage folks to try them, while at some point during class we all watch some flexible 20-something have a go at the crow, the firefly or the compass.

The class ends with the option of the yoga student wrapping themselves in a studio provided blanket (nope), while we lay in savasana, with the easy-listening Christian music playing in the background. Meanwhile the instructor mills around, plopping a hot towel on folks' head--unless one is quick enough to stop them. (And let me tell you! My reflexes by this point are spot on!) The instructor will then read a small devotional or something inspiring. Right before releasing the class, she says--and I'm not making this up--Jameson, which is Hebrew for "supplants" or Irish for "whiskey." 

For the record, I'm not sure why "Jameson." 

At this point, there's always a random, chipper woman running around trying to hug her fellow participants like we've just struggled through some sort of twenty-four hour team-building exercise and have bonded as sisters. We haven't. However, sometimes I'll hug back.

The classes are intimate and encouraging without the fake platitudes. The instructors know all our names. My biggest complaint is the classes aren't consistent. Because of this, it is hard to plan my exercise week. One week chill flow is offered on Mondays at 9 a.m., the next week that time slot might be hot yoga, pound class, or yogalates and my chill flow class will be at 11 on Thursday. However, even with the different rituals and a maddening schedule, it is still a great workout. And who knows, in time, maybe I will master the crow. 

* I once saw the gym's checklist where the yoga instructor was to mark down that they encouraged someone during class. The fat lady is an easy mark. 

Texarkana Pro-Tip: Buy milk prior to January 13th.

Okay, this needs to be addressed because I feel like I'm in Bizarro World. 

The entire ArkLaTex area has lost its collective minds over the weather. Last week--that would be circa December 2024--some official web site for the Arkansas weather guys posted that it would be "28 degrees colder than normal" in this area around the 14th of January 2025. Yes, they were predicting the weather three weeks in advance. Even if you live some place with consistent January weather, like Phoenix, I'm sure you can see issue with this. Right? 

An hour after this post, the Arkansas weather guys issued a retraction. Oops! Please excuse the typo. The temperatures in the ArkLaTex area during the week of January 14 would hover around 28 degrees. Probably overnight. Just like most every January on record. 

Dang! If I had those kind of prediction skills, I could be a weather guy too! 

But, with too much time to surf Facebook and not enough intellectual curiosity, the masses have turned this into Freezeaccolypse. Even with others correcting them (pst! It was a typo and immediately fixed. And you, know... JANUARY), the wackjobs are running around shouting something about Texarkana being the epicenter for the Second Coming. There are all sorts of old-timer tips to help some of us newcomers cope: Like be sure to get your bread, milk and eggs before the 14th. 

I guess we can serve Jesus French toast if we are lucky enough.  

I should also note, the first January we spent here, it never got above 35 degrees. I didn't own a winter coat until the following December, when, coincidentally, it got down to 7 degrees for a couple of nights and yet, there were no reports of frozen bodies. Last winter, the Facebook complainers kept going on about how warm January was--and it was, right after the snowstorm and follow-up ice storm impeded life for two weeks. 

It seems to me, if you've lived here more than one January, there is no reason to complain that January is cold. It also seems to me there is an entire section of population who completely don't understand the concept of seasons. And yet, they didn't grow up in Phoenix. 

The After Picture

 Buckaroo approved. 

DOHOMED

Today the Director of DOHO took on the vitamins and miscellaneous perishables in our cabinets. All is now catalogued. Marty and I have been given direct orders to no longer buy vitamins at Costco. Fair enough. We don't need to buy a year's supply of magnesium. 

I'm told the Christmas decorations are put away and my Christmas present is almost complete (reveal later!). Next on the Director's docket: the garage. Bwahahaha!

Oh yes, the only reason I'm writing this is because I'm at an impasse with my desk. 

Lest you think this is a complaint, Buckaroo is really enjoying his leadership role and we are enjoying watching him blossom. Plus, the house is less cluttered. 

Let's call this the "Before" picture.

The Director of DOHO

This morning, after Marty left for his gainful employment, Buckaroo, the Director of the Department of Home Optimization, called a work meeting. Given we had a quorum, he moved forward. 

First on the list, Christmas decorations would be coming down immediately. This wasn't terribly difficult. Because it rained every weekend from Thanksgiving to Christmas, there wasn't much outside decorating this year. Also, we opted to go small. We had a Charlie Brown-style Christmas tree, no lights, a few decorations, only two three four nativity sets*, a wreath on the door and garland around the fireplace. 

I then ran a few errands and came back to find the two young adults reorganizing the cabinets. Plus Buckaroo was cataloging all of the spare boxes, jars and bags we have--not a bad idea actually. I'm ashamed to admit I've bought too many jars of harissa at Trader Joes. The expired was tossed. The excess will be given to food banks in the local area. 

All in all, our home already feels lighter. 

Tomorrow, I tackle my desk. 

A couple of photos. 

Discussing with his sister how much hot cocoa she really needs. 

Deciding which hot cocoa is better. 

*It's a Catholic thing. I assure you, I have plenty more.