My Latest Catch Phrase

The only phrase I seem capable of uttering in answer to anyone's questions these days is, "I don't know." 

Anyone: "How's Marty's job search?"

Me: "I don't know." 

I do know. The recruiter he spoke with said his resume makes him look, "old." Which is true but there's no way to hide 35 years at the same company. The same recruiter said he gets around one hundred resumes a day from folks who've been replaced by AI--just like Marty. In addition, the Nation's job's numbers just came out, they stink.  

Anyone: "What are you going to do if Marty doesn't get a job?" 

Me: "I don't know." 

The truth is, I do know. It's complicated and we aren't ready to reveal our plan because there are many moving parts that spark more questions and unknowns. I can summarize it by saying I suspect I won't be living Texarkana by September. I guarantee I won't be moving to Yoakum, Texas.  

Anyone: "Has Sherman picked a law school?" 

Me: "I don't know." 

I know Sherman has options. He has to make a decision by the end of the month. He will be gone by July. 

Anyone: "What's going on with Polly and Sherman?" 

Me: "I don't know." 

This is half-true. I have enough life experience to interpret what I'm seeing and hearing. But it isn't my relationship and I'd rather be adjacent than in the middle.  

Anyone: "How's Luna?'

Me: "I don't know." 

Luna is struggling. I've had to lift her onto the bed a couple of times because she isn't always capable of jumping. Other days, she is nuzzling Roosevelt or letting Leon attack her tail. 

Anyone: "How are you doing?" 

Me: "I don't know." 

I'm fine. Tired of being in a holding pattern. Tired of uncertainty. Tired of 20 legs at home all hours of the day. Tired of living without sunshine--I miss vitamin D and UV light--I really need these clouds outside and the ones in my life to go away. 

Yoakum Texas

Hello. And welcome to another edition of, "Are we desperate enough to move here?" 

Today's contestant is Yoakum Texas, which as the song points out, is "1,000 miles from nowhere," and I'd be willing to believe that is highly accurate.  

Seriously, when Marty told me about a job there, I looked up this place. If I agreed to move here--which, for the record, I won't--it is closer to Beeville Texas (Y'all remember Beeville???) than anywhere else. And that's still an hour away, along Texas backroads. It is also about smack-dab between Houston and San Antonio, but to get to either place also requires navigating back Texas roads for a longer amount of time.  

A few details about the (I'm sure) charming metropolis of Yoakum. The population is hovering around 5000, but smaller than Wake Village, TX. There's a Catholic church. And it appears Yoakum is ambitious, because there is a "College Drive," but alas, no institute of higher learning. Lately I've raised the bar on my qualifications for any small Texas town to be in the running as a future Sunshine home. One of them is it must have more than one Dollar General. Bummer. There's just the single location. 

Let's talk about medical for a moment. There is a hospital. Honestly, it looks like a repurposed Baptist church. 

Welcome to Yoakum General Hospital,
where they'll save your life or your soul. 

 But that's not what exactly got me. While searching around, I found this article: Here's How to Spend the Night in a Haunted Texas Hospital.  You're welcome. 

Now then, I'm certain Yoakum has charm. After all, according to the Internet, Yoakum is rooted in deep history. Named after Benjamin Yoakum, the town was formed in 1887. Several notable people claim to be from Yoakum, but they've all fled. 

I told Marty when he mentioned this place, if he felt like he needed to take a job there, fine. I'd be listing our modest Wake Village ranch home for $2 million and stay here and wait for it to sell.  

Random Texarkana

I found out today, as a Texas resident, I can join the Houston Public Library system for free! I am so thrilled! As a resident of Wake Village, I can pay $20 a year to use the Texarkana Library--which has a limited selection of reasonable reading and listening material. This is a game changer! 

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Last week I went on a little road trip with Tessa, who needed to get her car serviced. The closest dealership for her car was in Dallas. Marty has new-to-us car fever and wanted a play by play on every vehicle I "looked at" while at the dealership. I saw a blue car and a black car. They both had air conditioning. Because I hate shopping, I invested more time buying my last toaster than I did looking at car's on Marty's behalf. 

By the way, I had a great time with Tessa, who understands I'm dealing with a bit o'cabin fever around here. 

Oh yes! Some time next week Marty and I are limping the minivan to Dallas to buy a new-to-us car. We were going to do this six months ago and decided to wait until Marty got a job. He doesn't have a job yet, but we are in serious need of transportation.   

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Polly's bestie is having a gender reveal party this weekend. Polly is dragging Sherman along because he has yet to meet the bestie and her ginormous family. I was invited because I know the ginormous family (plus Polly's friend is very sweet). I like Sherman and offered to go as his emotional support human. I like Marty too and told him he could stay home and spend that time surfing Web sites of Dallas car dealerships. 

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Weird small-town quirks that I just don't get. I get text messages from people our family knows asking if Buckaroo or Polly might be available to help out with something or another. These same people have both young adults' phone numbers, but instead of reaching out to them, they reach out to me--like I'm setting up a playdate on my offsprings' behalf. My adult children are responsible enough to manage their own schedules. 

This past week alone: Bob who owns the quilt shop asked me if Buck could help him move something. I remind Bob I don't know Buck's schedule. Deb, the Queen of the Coronas, asked me if Polly was available for an odd job. She then sent a second text asking if Buck was available for a different odd job. I know she has their number! The head of Bowie County elections sent a reminder text to me, because Buck and Marty* were expected at a meeting the next day. I responded with their phone numbers, saying, "just in case you need to let them know, here's there numbers." But he'd already sent a message to both of them. Sheesh! 

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Now then, this bit of hypocrisy goes both ways. I once called a doctor Polly (who was 23 at the time) was seeing and I had zero affiliation with. I called and asked for Polly's prescription to be sent to a different pharmacy. They did it without questioning me or confirming with Polly. A few weeks ago I thought about starting our taxes. I needed Buck's interest statements from his investment account (he's a saver!). I just waltzed in to his investment guy's office, asked for it and explained to the receptionist I was Buck's mother and I was getting taxes taken care of. No questions asked. No calls to Buck to see if it was a problem. To be fair, Buck knew I was out running errands and I was heading there. He had his phone on standby in case someone needed Buck's authorization. Apparently they didn't. Try that in a big city. 

*Buck and Marty were hired by Bowie County to set up voting machines for this election. Buck has done it before. It's a real job with procedures and it pays better than being an election judge. I doubt anyone else's spouse was sent a reminder text for their hubby to "remember" to show up. Double sheesh! 

The Day After

We had eleven of these left
at the end of the night.

Yesterday was a long introvert-hell day. Not only did I have to interact pleasantly all that time, I stood from 6 a.m. to11:45 p.m., when I finally collapsed into the minivan at the New Boston* courthouse and let Marty drive me home. Though the polls closed at 7 (our last voter left at 7:45 p.m.), new election guidelines passed down from above say that every unused ballot must be counted at the courthouse. There are 25 precincts in Bowie County. And I got home earlier than most.  

Today, I'm brain dead. I ache from top to bottom. Even with my glasses on right now, my vision is blurry. My phone is off. I'm sitting at my desk, with headphones on, listening to nothing. This is recovery day. 

Our voter turnout was one of the best in the county. I hope I did my part to give them a great experience. That's what I'm committed to. Voters were mostly pleasant. The ones that weren't can live in their own karma. Very few had to be told to get off their phones. We had moms and dads who brought their littles with them to vote. I used to do that when my babies were small. And we had a couple of first-time voters  we celebrated and got the other voters to celebrate with us. 

As promised, Tish handled the paperwork--and I'm thrilled she did. She's good at it and I am not. My clerks were wonderful and good sports. As for Tish, my life will go on quite peacefully if I never work with her again. I wish her a beautiful life. 

I've enjoyed my time working at the polls. Even if I don't leave Texarkana, I think I'm done with elections for now. Perhaps I'll change my mind, someday when I'm willing to take my headphones off. 

Side note: nobody who recently changed their name had trouble voting. Nobody had to produce anything other than a state ID--though we took handgun licenses, passports and military ID. It wasn't a problem. So, no matter what you might hear on the news, please don't believe it. Nobody who was registered to vote was turned away. 

*Bowie County's county seat is New Boston, a town of 4,612--smaller than Wake Village in population, but much larger in land mass. It is 20 minutes either via back country roads or through the construction on I-30. I remind myself when I drive to New Boston, it would be like driving to Chandler or Queen Creek if I lived in Mesa, but with less traffic. Living here, it feels very far.

Primary Day

Today is election day here in Texas. I'm at a voting location having the time of my life. Probably. Maybe. Whatever. I'm working. Most likely this is my last Bowie County election. Even if Marty gets a job locally, I think I'm going to take a break after this election. Burnout is real. 

As a public service, may I just remind you to please leave your campaign slogan hats and shirts at home. Please your firearm in your car. And please!!!! (PLEASE!) Turn off your phone. No. Seriously. TURN OFF YOUR PHONE. 

We election workers are on the job for a fifteen hour day. We run on vending machine food and thank-yous.  So, give your election workers some love. We've been up since o'dark hundred. We don't care who you are voting for. We don't care about your opinion about the Little Miss Rice Patty candidates and why one is better than the other. We just want to check you in, give you a ballot and make the line move. 

And please, TURN OFF YOUR PHONE! 

Tish

Tomorrow is Primary Day in Texas. Once again, I'm working as a judge--though I've begged to be a clerk for years. My usual partner is Ms. Hattie. However, she's sitting this one out--probably at a beach somewhere. Instead, I'm working with Tish. And Tish is none too happy to be my co-judge. 

I've known Tish from the three years of working the elections. I've always liked working with her. A few weeks ago, I sent her a note, telling her I was happy we'd be working together. Tish's response was terse and she didn't mask her displeasure. I sat on her response for a while, letting it simmer. Maybe I read it wrong? Maybe I'm being sensitive? I read it again an hour later. Nope. It wasn't my imagination it was a bitchy and ugly response. 

So, I sent a note, saying if I've done something to offend her, it wasn't intentional. Additionally, I apologized for any misunderstandings. 

And then, Tish doubled down! I let it go. I have zero idea what I've done to upset her, but here we are. 

Now then, I'm no longer 12 years old and I don't expect everyone to like me. I'm totally okay with that. Given I attempted to make the relationship right, I truly feel I've done my part. I don't have an issue with Tish, and if she isn't telling me what I did to (unintentionally) slight her, I'm moving on and letting her live in her drama. 

For the record, I love-love-LOVE this part of adulting. Who knew the, "I don't give a jolly-darn" phase would be so rewarding! However, I don't want tension tomorrow. So, I've decided to let Tish be Tish and I will adjust accordingly. I can learn a lot from her and I get paid the same if she's happy I'm there or if she isn't happy I'm there. We have two clerks who will be there and don't need to work in a tense environment. Therefore, I've let Tish's drama go.

Today Tish and I set up the voting room. She was unfriendly and dismissive, the way a queen bee likes to be when they want to make a point. And trust me, I went to enough preteen slumber parties that I recognized the behaviors! I bit my lip so I didn't laugh at this 60+ year old woman who clearly has a bug lodged in her backside. But I have to tell you, I'm okay if I catch a one day flu and can't make it tomorrow.  

As we set up today, Tish announced she would be handling the election paperwork. I watched her face as she told me this, with her "cross this line and see what happens" face. However, for me, THIS WAS THE BEST NEWS EVER!!!! Ms. Hattie hates paperwork, and I've been stuck with it for the past several elections. So, what Tish wanted to use as some sort of alpha move is a true gift!  I even thanked her! My response was unexpected and I could tell Tish was surprised her proclamation didn't have the gut-punch she wanted.  

Hopefully we will be so busy tomorrow she will relax. If she doesn't, I'll just live rent-free in her head.  

My (Current) Last Master Gardener Meeting

Earlier this week, after a great deal of discernment, I'd made up my mind to put my master gardener membership on ice. What does that mean? I wouldn't pay my dues and I'm no longer a "certified" master gardener. If I re-join do I have to start over? I don't know. I haven't wanted to explore that yet. But I will.

It wasn't the dues money that made the decision. I can figure out how to scrape up $25 if I need to. The truth is, I'm distracted. Other aspects of life getting the best of us. And, I'm not my best self. I don't want do something else intentionally for the sake of doing it. I love the master gardener community. I love the education. But I don't want to commit to events three months down the line. I just don't. That's where I am. 

I went to Thursday's master gardener meeting as a way to "complete" my time. I wanted to say hello to everyone, one last time. Plus, our past-president had an interesting talk on worm gardening! Truly, a garden is about growing fertile soil and cultivating plants. Worms are good. Mostly. Good stuff. 

My pal, Joy, drove (I hadn't told her this would be my last meeting.) and we arrived a few minutes late. I found a seat in the back and settled in to learn about the different soil preferences between night crawlers and red wigglers. After the presentation, the treasurer stood up to give her report. Instead of her usual report saying, "this is how much money we have," she pointed to ME and waggled her finger. Calling me by name, she said to the group of thirty, "You haven't paid your dues. They are due now." 

I'm pleased to say living in the South for the past four years made a difference. I'm also pleased a bail go fund me wasn't needed because I did not throw out my real thoughts. I did say something along the lines of, "Unless you are going to wag your finger at everyone else and publicly call out the rest of those who haven't paid their dues, I suggest you move on." People laughed that uncomfortable laugh when they see something awkward. To her credit, the treasurer looked astonished, shut up and sat down. 

I know someone else would probably offer to pay my dues. I don't want that. Though it hadn't been about the money, the treasurer's lack of decorum sure did a number on my psyche. Marty's unemployment is taking its toll in many ways. However, I don't want sympathy or charity. I do want dignity. 

I sent a note this morning to our fearless leader. I told him the truth: I'm distracted. I asked how the reinstatement process works because I'd really like to revisit this if Marty decides we'll be staying in Texarkana.