Before and After

Before

Ta-Da! A black Sharpie was used for the "Welcome." 

Snake Stories

Every day this week, I've thought of writing a snake blog. Well here I am. Let me just start with this: snakes around here are as ubiquitous as sunshine in Phoenix, palm trees in Florida and winter snow in Canada. Essentially, yep. They are here. The topic of snakes and anything adjacent is part of polite conversation. 

In the last four years, I've learned to co-exist with the thought of snakes. I don't do well co-existing with the actual critter. As young children, my siblings and I had a traumatic experience with a rattler. My brothers are the exact same way about snakes. I cannot go to the reptile house at the zoo. I cannot look at a picture of a snake. After finding one in my greenhouse last fall, the floor in there is now covered in sulphur. I am who I am. The end. 

Snake story 1: 

My pal Joy wanted to see a movie this week. We saw Zootopia 2, which happened to be about a poor, misunderstood snake. Just no. We were the only ones in the theater at the matinee showing of a kids' movie, so we ended up chatting more than watching the movie.  

Snake story 2: 

My hairdresser, Crystal, lives on 800 acres, south of Fouke, Arkansas. Though, I wouldn't expect y'all to know where this is, think of it next to the Sulphur river, about 10 miles from the Arkansas-Louisiana border. About here. 

Around that red star. Kinda. 

Anyway, Crystal grew up on these 800 acres. This is woods, wilderness and boonies. There is more poison ivy per square foot in this area than anywhere else in the state of Texas--that level of "boonies." Last weekend, Crystal found a snake in her front yard. And this has upset her. Her front yard! "Why couldn't it be in my back yard?" she asked me. I hate to tell her this... 

Anyway, the snake slithered into a hole and she put a concrete block on the hole. I didn't point out there's probably a second hole. Hopefully it's in the back yard. 

Snake story 3:

Deb lives in a normal neighborhood. The neighborhood was established around 1980. Because it's East Texas, there are ponds everywhere. But please note, it isn't a wildlife kind of neighborhood. It's just a regular suburb. 

Driving back from her house this week, I found this sign. 

This isn't a lake. It is the size of the retention reservoir
found at the end of my former street in Mesa AZ.
Maybe 1/4 of an acre? Can we please stop normalizing critters? 

Snake story 4: Today I visited a friend who lives outside of Texarkana in an unincorporated part of town. She showed me her green house and millions of awesome plants she has. She then told me, oh yeah! She found a snake inside her green house yesterday. It got away. She also found a copperhead closer to her children's swing set last weekend. That one is now dead. Neither of these two locations are near each other, so this is two different snakes. 

We then went on a county-wide hunt for sulphur: the magic ingredient which is supposed to repel snakes. On our third stop, we found a 50 pound bag of the stuff. 

Random Monday Ramblings

Today I went to the doctor for my chronic 1,000-car pileup headaches I've been dealing with. Doc said, "stress." Sure. Okay. I mean, she's not wrong about that stress thing. 

While I was at the doctor's Marty had an interview. The person interviewing him made the interview go long because he was telling him the "best places to live" in this job's particular city. I'm not even googling to see if there's a Trader Joes.

I then went to lunch at the new First Watch in town. I met Deb. Both of us had this crazy idea that it couldn't possibly be crowded on a Monday! How wrong we were. By the way, First Watch hasn't changed. The menu is expensive and exotic for Texarkana. The service was so bad that Deb, a refined Southern woman, gave a generous11 percent tip.  

Oh yes, I told Deb about Marty's interview. To be fair, she already knew because Polly told her last week. But, it was a mistake anyway. Why? Because the newest Corona, Little Miss Hates Me, and her sweet and darling mother (she's wonderful!) came in and because there was no place to sit, they were invited (by Deb, Patron Saint of all Lost Souls) to cram into our two-person booth. And guess what came up in polite conversation? Grrrr... Little Miss Hates Me also is a terrible gossip. 

I think by this time tomorrow half of Texarkana will know Marty had an interview with this organization and it wasn't for a local job. Also, half of Texarkana will not care it was a first interview, there are several candidates and so far nothing has come of it and might not. 

For the record, I did not say to Deb, "Don't tell anyone," because 1) it hadn't come up as a point of conversation and 2) there hadn't been time between me mentioning Marty's interview and LMHM and her wonderful mama sitting down.

Speaking of LMHM. She wanted to tell me Ms. Judy needs me to take her to the upcoming woman's banquet at church. Oh dear! I need to talk to Ms. Judy. I'm out of town that weekend and won't be going to the woman's banquet*. That's too bad. I adore Ms. Judy. She doesn't drive and I and would be happy to take her anywhere I'm going.  After living in the South, I know LMHM didn't mean anything untoward (this time) by mentioning this. It's standard practice: get your news from whomever is dishing it out. But it still bugs me.  

And let me pinch my forehead while I speak of gossip for a moment. I got a text message from one of the Master Gardener's wishing me well now that I've moved to Arizona. Huh? What? Huh? I wrote back, letting him know I live in Texarkana, just taking a break from Master Gardeners right now. Yes, yes. I know this will change at some point, but this is what is true for now. I haven't moved anywhere. Nor have I mentioned to anyone in that organization my living situation. The dude doesn't even go to the Church of Christ! So, I'm really curious about his info source. Geez! His note made my head hurt.   

After lunch, I met Pete the Painter who gave us this outrageously low quote on painting our exterior trim and our bathrooms. Both need to happen before the house goes on the market. I can paint the bathrooms, but I'm not getting on a ladder and painting the exterior--especially if Pete the Painter will charge per hour than less than the cost of a First Watch meal. 

Oh yes! My pal Joy sent a note saying, "see you tomorrow." We hadn't yet picked a destination for our upcoming nature walk. So, I asked where we were going. She replied we were going to the movies. Movies? Okay then. You know, I might get a reasonable nap in the movie theater. There might be something to this. 

I should also mention Corona Krissy called me. She felt we should get a group together on Friday to celebrate my accomplishment of making it another year around the sun. Friday is Good Friday. It is the beginning of the holiest of all religious Christian holidays. And, I fast on Good Friday. So, is this possible to do this after 8 p.m.? Krissy told me it is not possible but respects my beliefs. She informed me another day will be selected. 

Though I love these women and enjoy hanging out with them, I don't want to celebrate my birthday. In fact, the very idea is giving me a headache. 

*Out of town in this case means anything from I'm dragging Marty away for a Galveston weekend to I'll be at the Wal-Mart in New Boston, Texas at the very time of the banquet and won't be available to eat chicken spaghetti. But actually, I do have tentative plans.    

Small and Meaningful

Small and Meaningful

The decision has been made and I'm outvoted. We will eventually be moving. Most around here don't know this, but if anyone is paying attention, they can see the small and meaningful actions being taken to for our home to be put on the market.

Where are we going? Don't know. More on that later. 

Anyway, back to small and meaningful actions. Yesterday, Marty and I tackled more of the front yard. Before you smirk, please understand, revamping the front yard is a massive undertaking. So far, we've reseeded the grass and added a flowerbed in the side yard. And now we've managed to rebuild the bed on the North side of the front yard. The one in front of Buck's room. The flowerbed was covered in wild strawberries, dandelion, burweed and--Heaven help me--green briar. For those who aren't familiar with green briar, it is an unpleasant pokey plant that grows 1,000 feet per second. And it takes over whatever it wants to take over. Essentially, it is the Leon of plants. 

Speaking of Leon, while we were working in the front, Marty turned around and found Leon behind him in the grass, hanging out, and staring at at us. When the cat realized he'd been caught outside, he just sat down, purred, and waited for Marty to bring him back inside.

Anyway, significant progress was made on the front flower bed. Eventually I'll add flowers. But right now I'm happy the weeds are gone. We still need to tackle the rest of the front flower beds, but that has to wait until April, when we have money again. 

Before.
Lots o' weeds. 
Note the rusted trellis with the sunflower hanging from it. 

     

After. There's lawn on the grass side of the castle rock. I promise.
It looks better than the picture suggests. 
Oh, and notice Luna.  

 

Remember the rusted trellis? 

Still needs to dry and a
few details will be added before it goes back up. 

Leon's New Hobby

Leon likes to binge watch YouTube. He prefers birds over fish and butterflies. 

Jobbing

A vintage ballot box from the
Rosenberg Library Museum.

Currently, I'm the bread-winner in the Sunshine household. I keep telling Marty I'm supporting him in the fashion he's used to--mind you he grew up one of seven in a one bath, single-wide located in the middle of the desert.

Anyway, I've been hired to help with the Bowie County primary recount. My gig is for two days and pays slightly more than minimum wage. We take a sealed ballot box, unseal it, empty it, sort the ballots into political party and then hand count several of the races. 

Several of us sit in a locked (from the outside) room. There are three at each table. We are given a specific race to audit--like dogcatcher. One person selects a ballot. Calls out the name on the ballot ("Jones"), a second person marks a tally mark next to Jones on their sheet. The third person watches the entire process making sure the person calling out the name and the other who marked the sheet do it correctly. Lather, rinse, repeat. The goal is for our count to match the count that came out on election day. Today our table recounted more than 1,200 ballots in five races. 

Though tedious, I'm working with great folks and the day flew. However, I let it slip I won't be working in the polling places for the next election. I've been told there will be "methods" to change my mind. I offered to work behind the scenes (if I'm available) but the polling place? Nah... 

Someone asked me if I was "afraid" to work the November election. Another woman pointed to me and said, "Not her. The voters are afraid of crossing THAT Yankee." No. I'm not afraid of voters. The voters are great. It is fair to say I have zero interest in standing up for 18 hours and working with an unpleasant co-judge. 

In other news, Marty has been contacted for a potential job. The kind of job that comes with benefits. That doesn't mean an interview but it means a company has told him they are interested in maybe, potentially, possibly talking to him sometime in the near future. Perhaps. Nobody here is holding their breath. But it is nice that someone noticed Marty's talents. 

Around the World in 36 Hours

The Eiffel Tower in Paris Texas

This past week, Marty and I went on a road trip. We went to Dallas, Paris, Reno, Detroit and Boston.* And, we didn't leave Texas. By the way, taking the back roads took no longer in time and distance than taking the Interstate.

Sadly, we didn't make it to Athens, Carthage or Naples. We don't even have to go go as far to see these three places! 

While in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, in addition to buying groceries, checking out an 1860s historic village in McKinney TX and shoe shopping (a bust), we bought a new-to-us car. Marty named it "Stebbins"** because he's is a big believer in unfortunate nicknames. 

*If I understand the lore correctly, Boston is actually a suburb of New Boston. At one time, the area was once made up of Boston, Old Boston and New Boston Texas. Currently, New Boston gets most of the fame and glory, but "Boston," exists within the boundaries of New Boston somewhere. 

**Marty is insisting you know that the car is named after Purley Stebbins from Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe mysteries we both love.