We Didn't Find a Mixing Bowl. Yet.

Every couple of weeks, I drag Marty out of the house and insist he drive somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care. Just GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. After 5 months, the unemployment is taking its toll. He's still happy he took the job in the first place. He's still happy he is no longer there. But his happiness level is beginning to crack with the day-to-day outlook no better than it was during the fourth quarter of 2024. And let's face it, there's only so many videos of medicinal herbs, societal-breakdown, and boot reviews (with the influencer using a table saw to cut the boot in half) Marty can watch. And there's only so many reviews of said videos the rest of us want to listen to. 

Anyway, this week with the blessings of the young adults, Marty and I managed two excursions. The first one was to Fouke and Genoa. Both are little towns on the Arkansas side, which are more or less considered suburbs. Our hairstylist is in Fouke. When I say she's in the middle of nowhere, it is an understatement. But yeah, she's in the middle of nowhere. 

Afterwards, I drug Marty to Three Chicks, a feed store, with the promise that they had medicinal herb seeds (they did. I have cheaper sources.). Three Chicks also has a cafe with inexpensive lunches and I knew Marty needed to try this place. We also went out into the back patio and hung out with the chickens and goats for a bit. I took a few pictures and by a strange coincidence, the person I was going to send the pictures to, called me the next day.  

You know, life in rural Arkansas. I still get a kick out of how normal this is for folks around here.  

(Sorry forgot to send it) 

When one of the young adults came to me Wednesday night and mentioned that Marty NEEDED another round of "let's get him out of his head," I suggested we go to that fun-fun metropolis, Longview Texas! My reasoning was this: I need a mixing bowl to replace the one gravity took from me. It is part of a set. I'm scouring the thrift stores looking for a replacement bowl. Plus, Marty is into videos about boots and men's fashion so who knows! The Longview resale shops might be a win-win. 

I'll let you y'all sit with that a minute. Take your time. And yes, he still only wears Hawaiian print shirts--which one cannot find here. But the YouTube men's fashion videos!

Longview Texas is about 80,000 people. To get there from Texarkana, it is ninety miles of back roads. Longview has all the basic places and reminds me a lot of Flagstaff AZ with better municipal infrastructure. 

We found a "bistro" which turned out to be a restaurant attached to a gas station. I vetoed it when the menu included tandoori chicken which had "velvety gravy" and the menu boasted tacos with "scrumptious onions." Instead, we found a fast-food joint.  We also found a place called--and I'm not making this up--"Food Factory" in a shady part of town. We'd eaten by then, but that didn't stop us from inquiring what the sign meant, while noticing the lack of road-kill at the same time. (Welcome to Texas). 

Just for fun we took a different route home. This was the view there and back, but this photo was taken about forty miles from our home on the drive back. 

East Texas on a sunny day.

They Were Gone in Four Days

I've been toying with driving back to Arizona for one main reason: oranges. I have memories of my ten year old self, hiding in the orange tree in my front yard, reading books my mother's John D. MacDonald* books and living off the sweet valencias. Oh my! 

There's nothing like a fresh orange. Nothing! Y'all don't know how good you have it. Oranges in Texarkana grocery stores aren't even orange. They are a motley green-orangish. So, why bother? A few weeks ago Marty and I went to Dallas and I bought oranges. They were a wonderful fake. Polly and I were burning through the bag. That is, until I got a care package this week from a dear friend in Arizona who sent me fresh citrus from her trees. I did a taste test between the leftover Dallas oranges and the ones from Arizona. Not even close. 

Yesterday, I went to a friend's house for lunch. I brought over soup and oranges for dessert. My friend said, "I really don't care for oranges." Bwhahaha! She'd never had a real Arizona orange before. She's now a fan and gets the hype. 

Oh yes! Polly is making lemon curd. 

*At the age of ten, I read EVERYTHING I could get my hands on--except Judy Blume, stories of preteen girls struggling through preteen girl experiences. I wasn't allowed to read those. My mother considered them too "adult." So, I binged on my mother's John D. MacDonald novels. Judy had nothing "adult" compared to Johnny Mac's pulp.  

Beds

Lots of construction takes place here. 
Side note: this might be on my next book cover.

 One of the amazing ministries the Church of Christ does is making beds for foster care. The man who started this years earlier has managed to expand it to East Texas and parts of Arkansas. 

Last year, I asked for donations for my birthday from the lunch bunch crowd for this ministry. Part of me did it for selfish reasons. I don't need more tea towels and lotion--two staples of Southern gift-giving. But the ministry always needs pillows, sheets and Home Depot gift cards. I'm pleased to say, this started a trend of donating to charity in lieu of Lunch Bunch birthday celebrations.  

Additionally, there is a group of women who get together about once a month and make these beds from raw materials. I've been known to brandish an electric drill and sander on a few occasions in a warehouse across town--come to think of it, I'm probably the youngest woman there. A group of men install these heavy wooden beds in their intended locations. 

But yesterday, the ladies were asked to install five bunkbeds (which is ten beds, stacked) into a domestic violence shelter. There were eight of us and we managed to get this done in three hours. The first few beds weren't heavy. One person could manage a foot piece or a railing. By the end of the day, it took three of us to move a twin mattress. And my arms are so tired today--but not sore. 

We weren't able to take pictures because of the nature of our mission. (I didn't have my phone with me, and I couldn't convince Ruthie to do it on my behalf, that's okay. She has boundaries and she's definitely a rule follower.) You'll just have to take my word for it. It was impressive site to see these beds fully put together--mattress and all. 

In other news, Marty has an interview tomorrow. A first interview--which is more like a speed date and doesn't have any significance at this time. However, I thought about his interview as we constructed these beds. I love living purposefully. But I kept thinking throughout the afternoon, would this be another probably last moment here in Texarkana.  

This is not a picture from the domestic shelter.
Just a photo of the beds we constructed in the past. 

Texarkana Crime

 On the ole Facebook this morning. 

A Few NIce Days

View from the front door Monday morning. 

We are sorta thawing. At least during daylight hours. Every night the ice and snow melts and refreezes, humbling us further. The mail hasn't run in days, nor has the trash. Schools and churches are still closed. Grocery stores are open, but the Interstate isn't navigable, so the grocery stores aren't restocked. The greenhouse is warm, but the door is jammed closed by an ice drift which refuses to budge. So the thirsty plants will remain thirsty but warm. That kind of thawing. 

Yesterday, we de-iced a couple of cars, just to make sure we could open the doors. Frozen car doors are a a thing! Then, the young adults, one who loudly proclaimed hours earlier she was "sick" of being stuck inside with us, took a drive in search of somewhere their parents weren't. 

Today we de-iced the cars again--it freezes overnight--and Marty and I took a quick drive to assess the neighborhood. We have friends in their 80s and I'd been a bit concerned about them because according to the outage maps, they were hit. They are fine and they had power. 

We are told another cold front is coming through this weekend. However, this one doesn't have precipitation, so it won't add to the ice layer, but the current ice won't melt either. Right now my walking stick when I venture into the yard is a heavy iron bar Marty bought 27 years ago to break up the caliche in the yard of our first house. The bar is taller than me and I look ridiculous, but I'm not breaking a bone, navigating to check on the greenhouse or corral Roosevelt--who still runs through our legs, zooming outside. Other than returning Bob's sewing machine--I didn't use it--I don't really need to go anywhere anyway. Plus, I have two young adults who are aching to run errands if we decide we need groceries. 

In other news, Marty announced he will not be looking for a job in Michigan. 

A Pretty Picture

Yes I did go outside in socks, flip-flops and no jacket to take this picture.

The desert girl in me loves looking at the snow. Pretty white stuff all over the ground! It is still snowing. We are cozy. Marty is making beef stew. Polly is making homemade marshmallows. Why? I don't know. 

The ice under this snow is a bigger issue. The water freezes to the power lines, causing them to snap. Water freezes to tree limbs, causing them to snap onto power lines. Power is going down all over Bowie County. Friends have already started texting and saying they are in the dark. I'm expecting that will be the case here too by the end of the day. We have blankets and a fireplace. We're fine. 

However, my fantasy backup plan is an airbnb, six hours away in 65 degree Gulfport Mississippi, which will take pets. I'm sure there's one out there that isn't too expensive for our unemployed family. Right? 

Prepping

Don't let his cuteness fool you.
This guy likes to bolt outside at the least convenient times. 

We spent the day:

Making candles, because if the power goes out we can use the same heating method I've been using in the greenhouse to keep us moderately chilly.  

Making multiple trips to the shed, for toilet paper, paper towels, my 1950 copy of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Long Winter, inventorying the board games still out there (Nope. Plenty inside. There's a reason they are there).

Cutting down the prematurely growing iris bulbs--because I didn't think covering them would matter if it's zero degrees. 

Dithering about covering the azaleas, and deciding not to because they lasted through the 2021 freeze. 

Cleaning out the garage and bringing in the glass/plastic bottles we stored in the outside pantry. Don't need frozen Dr. Pepper Zero or cracked jars of salsa.

Making enchiladas. 

Chasing an escape artist cat who thinks he's cute and an adventurer like his namesake. 

Insulating the outdoor spigots. 

Climbing into the attic to ensure the pipes are covered.

Locating the water main and making sure it is easy to turn off if we have a burst pipe.

Having a family meeting on what to do if a pipe bursts and/or the power goes out. Polly's answer: hang out at Sherman's. The rest of us start a game of Settlers of Catan.  

Reassuring the plants in the greenhouse they will be fine--but I brought one inside anyway. 

Sealing the greenhouse roof because Marty opted to bring a space heater out there and ran the extension cord through the roof. 

Loosening the caps on the spare bottles of water we store in the garage, because if they freeze, they will expand. For those who think it is excessive to keep spare bottles of (tap) water, you haven't lived in rural Texas. My family scoffed too until we needed a few gallons. 

Cleaning the house.

Checking e-mails to discover the Church of Christ is having online service. Still no news if the Catholic Church expects their parishioners to drive through ice to show up for an hour on Sunday. 

Chatting with Val, who wanted to meet up and walk the mall. Instead, we had a long text thread and wished each other well.     

All this is to say, we are totally ill-prepared and have zero idea what to expect in the next few days. 

Oh yeah... There's another storm coming next week.