A Nothing Post

I just want to put this out there. 

Marty has another interview with another company next week. This will be two interviews in three weeks. 

Now then. There was a third "interview" with a third company. However, it consisted of Marty staring into his computer's camera, making a video about himself and answering a host of provided questions. He never spoke with anyone in person. In his assessment, he said he came across as a first-time podcaster whose only subscribers were his favorite aunt and mother.  

Though we aren't hurting for food and shelter, the lack of employment is affecting each of us in a variety of awful ways. So, if in your charity, you could send positive vibes, juju, or prayers (Honestly, I'm not fussy) to your choice of places, I'd really appreciate it. 

I need this season to come to an end sooner than later.  

Diabetic Coma Week

Let me just say this: I love the people around here. They are amazing. Also, I'm not a diabetic. But this week I ate like I want to be. 

I had a birthday. 

Polly made blueberry cobbler for Easter/my birthday (not the same day, but close enough). The blueberries were the ones I picked a couple years ago in Fouke and froze for a special occasion. It was probably the best blueberry cobbler ever. EVER! She also made ice cream, but primarily she made the ice cream for Sherman, because he doesn't like cobbler. Or, he didn't like cobbler until he tasted Polly's. 

Peanut Butter Pie.
Even looking at it makes my
pancreas cower in the corner. 
But... nom... nom... nom...

On Monday, I met Deb and a boatload of other folks for dinner. Deb made me a peanut butter pie. I'd never had one before. And let me say, it was absolutely fabulous. For my birthday gift, Deb gave me the recipe because she doesn't want to make one ever again. There are probably 20,000 calories a slice and a portion of it is residing in my freezer. But if you ever have the chance to eat peanut butter pie, I recommend it. 

On Tuesday, I went to the Pike County Extension Homemakers meeting. When lunch came around, the potluck consisted of mayonnaise, mayonnaise* and rich chocolate cake. I was hungry. I'm not apologizing. The end. Afterward, Val and I walked around downtown Murfreesboro, where she surprised me with a birthday ice cream. I ate three bites and apologized for not finishing it. All the while I worried about my weeping endocrine system. 

Yesterday, the Thursday Lunch Bunch celebrated my birthday. Corona Jan brought cupcakes. I blew out my candle and passed on the cupcake, encouraging someone else to take them home. 

I must finally be a grown-up because I recognized I've eaten my quota of sugar for the week.  

*Someone bragged--BRAGGED--that the food they brought was "mayonnaise free" because she used Miracle Whip, as if that is any less gross. 

The Pike County Extension Homemakers Meeting

This past week, my pal Val dragged me to the Pike County Extension Homemakers meeting. I'll unpack this for you. 

Pike County is somewhere in Southwest Arkansas*. It's claim to fame is that it is the home to the Crater of the Diamonds State Park, the largest you-dig diamond mine in the US. Small cities named, Murfreesboro, Delight, East Delight, Daisy, Kirby and Hopewell reside in Pike County. The entire county has a population of around 10,000, so take the term, "cities" lightly.

Printed inside is the agenda and the
"Extension Homemaker" creed. 

The Extension Homemakers is a volunteer group focusing on family sciences ("home economics" is the term I heard in school). They meet to discuss such topics as food preservation, sewing, community involvement, cooking, gardening and whatever else falls into this category. Val has been trying to get me to join and I've begged off. Anyway, the Extension Homemakers is big around here. 

The Pike County Extension Homemakers held their meeting and opened it up to the area. And the area responded with a ton of people driving from all over to attend. Val and I drove about 70 miles. The day's topic was on quilting. 

Here's the great news. Many folks brought quilts and most told a brief story behind the quilt. One woman had been in a coma at the age of 37. She remembered nothing from before her accident. He daughter brought her a quilt and explained that the woman had made it for her. Another brought her baby quilt telling the story of her mother, finding out she was pregnant after her father went off to WW2. Her mother worked as a phone operator during the day and made the quilt at night. She didn't meet her father for four years and has memories of dragging it with her, out the door the day her dad came home from the war. Those kinds of stories.  

Here's the not great news. Our speaker, Mr. Sam Somebodyoranother, I heard talk two months ago when Val dragged me to a homesteaders conference. He gave the same talk, which he did not deviate from in the slightest. And dare I say, he gave the talk to the same audience. 

I did find out this time Mr. and Mrs. Sam worked for twenty years as school teachers in Fort Defiance AZ (on the Navajo reservation) and we spent a fun moment boring Val about all things Arizona. Fabulous fact: my father helped build the massive powerplant outside of Holbrook, AZ. The Sams and Val know this. And now you do too. 

Lunch was a combination of mayonnaise-based foods and super-sweet desserts. Though I would have had more than grapes, cheese and crackers (plus one of those pieces of cake) had their been more options, I would have been shocked if anything else had been served. Which brings me to this: if this is a group "dedicated" to food management and a better lifestyle, why couldn't the menu be more varied? Sigh... I guess I should be happy there wasn't a chicken spaghetti in sight. 

I am not going to inundate you with the thousands of quilt pictures I took, but these two are worth a view. 

A BOOK QUILT!!!! 

This is hand sewn. That means, a needle and thread.
Though this picture doesn't do it justice, there are so many intricate details.
It was by-far the most elegant quilt there. 

*The only reason this is a foot note is because I couldn't figure out where else to put my glowing adulation. Arkansas is one of the most underrated states. It is gorgeous. The people are wonderful. The vibe is terrific. Little Rock is pretty cool and has the metropolitan feel without being too big. And if there was work for Marty almost anywhere in the state, I'd be on board in a heartbeat.  

An Easter Tale of Two Churches

Let me put this out there. 

Sunday, I went to Easter mass at the Catholic church. I arrived early enough to find a suitable place to sit. In the lobby and even after I sat down, I smiled and said, "hello," and "happy Easter" to a handful of folks. NOBODY responded. 

Nobody! 

Not one! 

Nada!

NOT EVEN PEOPLE WHO KNOW MY NAME could be charitable enough to say hello. 

Given this is the South, this must have killed these folks not to be friendly. 

Also, nobody originally sat next to me. I had 95 percent of a pew to myself. I saw Sherman across the way, holding a seat for his girl* but he was too far away for me to make any kind of polite acknowledgement. 

With five minutes to go before mass, a father of a family of four came over, asked if I was holding the pew and proceeded to sit him and his family next to me. As the family walked by, I said, "Hello," "Good morning," and "happy Easter." No acknowledgement. Sheesh. 

Polly ran in and slid next to Sherman right before mass started. I looked at the time. If I hurried I could make service at the Church of Christ.  

So, I did. 

As soon as I arrived at the Church of Christ, I met Corona Patty at the entrance. She said hello, good morning AND happy Easter. I met up with Ms. Judy** and chatted with her for a bit before Corona Gail slid in, grabbed both of our shoulders and declared, "Two of my favorite people." And I'm certain she meant it. 

Ms. Jane (her first name is "Ms.") greeted me with an, "I heard you..." and then proceeded to tell me the latest bit of gossip about me. I also corrected her while being in too good a mood to hold a grudge against Little Miss Hates Me for spreading such things--I know she was the source, bless her heart. And honestly, I don't care.   

At the pew, Corona Joan gave me a hug and I whispered, "Just fled mass." Corona Joan is also Catholic, whispered back. "Good move." Her Majesty, Deb, Queen of The Everything came in and sat next to me. That is, until she smelled a new person, jumped past Joan and myself, greeting the newcomer and inviting the unsuspecting woman to six upcoming events. And this is all before the service started. 

I sat in the pew during service with a light heart, genuinely happy to be there. This was a mass of loving folks all living in communion. 

*I explained to Sherman that day at Easter lunch, he could have a girlfriend with long beautiful hair or he could have a girlfriend who arrived anywhere on time. 

**Someday I simply must write a blog post about this beautiful soul. 

A Trip to Carthage Texas

The Texas Country Music Hall of Fame

Carthage Texas has a rough population of 6000 folks. When I started working on my current book, I ended up doing a deep-dive into Carthage. However, none of my deep-dive made it into my book. 

For those of you unfamiliar with Carthage and dying to know where it is, head south of Texarkana until you reach it. It should take you about an hour and forty minutes. The city (I checked, it's a city) is twenty miles from the Louisiana border. It qualifies as a place I would consider living if Marty found employment because it has two Dollar Generals. I believe it also has a hospital and a Wal-Mart Supercenter. The downtown also has a charming park, surrounded by old, musty buildings  which appear to be boutiques, thrift stores, eateries and--I'm not making this up--two Edward Jones investment houses. Yep, you can stand in front of one Edward Jones office in the downtown square, look across the park and see the other Edward Jones office. 

I've wanted to visit Carthage for a while now, because I discovered the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame is located there. It isn't that I'm a huge Texas Country Music Hall of Fame kind of girl, but because of so many summers spent with Bonus Dad looking for obscure small-town museums, I was intrigued. So, after Marty finally gave in, he drove me to Carthage. 

I'm ready to go back. 

Let me first say, we ate at the Texas Tea Room.* It was the BEST food I've eaten in East Texas. Ever! We brought leftovers home, but others who live here absconded with them and also expressed their appreciation and admiration to what good food tastes like. I suggested they open a franchise in Texarkana, but I'm not sure the owners are that ambitious. Probably for the best. The zucchini I had was grilled. In Texarkana it would have to be fried. 

I made this picture large so you might have a better view. This is an old-time a safety deposit box sitting in the lobby of the Texas Tea Room. 

After lunch, we headed off the city center about 300 feet to the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame. The place was more interesting than Marty feared. I thought the history was fascinating. It consisted of a gift shop and two rooms with displays. There was a conference-center kind of place as well--probably for live performances. A working (and free--the docent in the gift shop promised me) juke box sat in the display rooms and we were able to pick out a few songs to liven the mood as we walked around. We spent about two hours in there, soaking up the history and music. Time well spent.  

Photos below, but first, a couple of notes:  

To be inducted into the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame one must have been born in Texas. Except the Oak Ridge Boys. Only one is from Texas so the governor at the time made the others honorary Texans so they would be able to be inducted. 

Eagles' Drummer Don Henley is from (and rumor has it, currently lives) in East Texas. He's been "invited" to be inducted. But so far (according to the docent) he's had schedule conflicts. 

This one surprised me. I thought Buck (former owner of KNIX in Phoenix) was from Arizona. 

Dale Evans

I wish I would have taken a better picture of Buddy Holly's display. It was rather large. 

Marty is a HUGE Roy O fan. 

The Gambler Himself

We've got Willie, Waylon, and Kris Kristofferson
 (and a few others) in this display.

*For those who aren't familiar with the term, "Texas Tea" means oil. There are tons of brownfields (oil fields) near Carthage. 

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.