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.  

Azle Texas

We've passed the five month mark for Marty's unemployment. The vibe around here is serene--with the exception of the Overlords' daily escapades. Leon is currently addicted to breaking the rules by zooming outside and jumping into a small patch of poison ivy in the woods on the other side of our fence. But that's for another blog. 

Anyway, once again Marty has applied for another job in an obscure Texas town. Today's winner is Azle Texas. 

Azle Texas is in Tarrant and Parker counties. As someone who lives in an area that straddles two states, I can only imagine the logistics when it comes to managing the municipalities. The city boasts a population of 15000--which is roughly three times as large as Wake Village and two and a half times smaller than Texarkana Texas. However, Azle has the distinct honor of being on the outskirts of Fort Worth. Think of it like being in Gold Canyon, AZ and taking advantage of all that the Valley has to offer while living the small-town dream. So, as far as I'm concerned, though it doesn't have a beach attached, it is major league baseball and trader joe's adjacent and offers clean air.

After a quick dive, I'm seeing that Azle is separated from the Fort Worth area by two man-made lakes (Eagle Mountain--though I see zero mountains on the map--and some other lake that doesn't seem to have a name) and a nature preserve. I'd like to go out on a limb here and say perhaps the gators aren't this far West. Hopefully. 

Well crap. After another deep dive, it appears Eagle Mountain Lake has its fair share of alligators. 

Let's talk about crime. According to the bastion of truth, the internet, crime in Azle Texas is 18 crimes per 1,000 residents--slightly lower than Texarkana. Crime in Mesa AZ is 270 per 1,000 residents. Wake Village has about 10 crimes per 1,000 folks. 

The notable people list was not what I expected. Author James Reasoner stood out. He's written more than 150 books. Jon Shirley, president of Microsoft also came from Azle--but I'm not sure on this one. On Mr. Shirley's bio, it doesn't say anything about Texas. So, maybe he set foot in Azle, saw a gator and high-tailed out. Also of note: James Casey, tight end coach for the Cincinnati Bengals and General Jon T. Walker, World War 1 and II badass. 

As I write this, the company Marty sent his resume to has gotten back to him and asked for more information. Yawn. This happens often. Its a sign he's generated interest--most likely in this case the HR department (which I'm guessing consists of a clerk and decision maker) has glanced at his resume and decided if anyone is willing to apply to live in Azle they must be taken seriously. But it's a long way from getting excited. 

Azle has one Catholic church, a cowboy church (it's a thing!), Church of Christ and about 586 Baptist churches. The city has a Wal-mart and four Dollar Generals, a Target and movie theater are both in the next town about 10 miles away. Oh yes! The Trader Joe's is 20 miles from Azle. I could get used to that. 

Plants Plants Plants

My dues to the Master Gardener are overdue and I'm going to be kicked out come March 1. Marty says pay them--it's only $25. It isn't exactly about the money. I hate paying them and then Marty takes a job three days later in Lincoln Nebraska*. So, it's about the unknown. I hate being in flux. We all do. But I love the Master Gardener group. The people! The knowledge! Serving my community! 

Anyway all that is to say, I'm on the fence about the Master Gardener program. 

What the alyssums should
look like when they sprout.  

Yesterday, I spent the morning playing with plants. I have a garden around the outside of my greenhouse. Last year it was full of veggies. This year, I haven't mapped out what I want to plant. Honestly, if we are moving, I'd rather the greenhouse garden look attractive and inviting, so I'm thinking that garden will focus more on flowers. I did throw out a few seeds: daisies and alyssums. 

I also planted carrots and cut back the oregano and lemon balm that survived the freeze. I'm hesitant to plant lettuce because we can never eat it as quickly as it grows. There's a shade garden at one end of my yard which I'll get to later this week. I want flowers there too. Let me reprhase that. I want flowers to FINALLY grow there this year. 

Inside the greenhouse, I tended to my sprouts. So far I have one yellow squash plant sprouting. This is disturbing because I planted 8 of them. I also planted 8 zucchini plants. None of them are coming up. These seedlings aren't for me. They are for the Master Gardener sale next month. I know enough to know I cannot keep squash and zucchini alive. The bugs get my plants every year. 

I also replanted new tomato seeds. I have a few coming up, but the ones sprouting aren't the variety I wanted to eat. So, those will go to the plant sale and I have a few new ones for me. By the way, these will be in planters because if we move, I'm giving them to someone else. All my herbs are coming up. As are my cucumbers. I'll keep a plant or two and give the rest to the plant sale. 

Some of my seedlings. 

What I hope my hosta
will look like. 

I'm also experimenting with a few different plants. I want to try my hand at grafting, That's another reason why I have so many seedlings starting. And, I found some seeds I'd saved last year in a paper towel (I store these kinds of seeds in a baggie in the freezer). The paper towel got moldy so I planted the whole thing anyway. The mold won't hurt the soil (microbes!). I'm curious if the seeds are viable though.

Speaking of experiments. I planted a blue hosta. That one is in a pot because if I move, I'm taking it with me. Right now I'm on the lookout for a purple one as well. 

Most of my plants are outside right now. I moved them when we stopped getting under 40 degrees at night. However, I still have a couple that are inside. 

A repotted purslane or portulaca. The other one (I transplanted half of it) is outside, enjoying the weather. A pretty flowering plant that tastes great in salads. 

Corona Krissy gave me this. It is a purple heart plant (also called a wandering jew). Too heavy to move and because it's inside in the heat, it's blooming. I love this plant. 

And when I was finished yesterday, I generously sprinkled sulfur all over the greenhouse floor. Last year I found a snake in the greenhouse (you heard the shrieking, I'm sure). It was a garden snake and it slithered out a crack. Sulfur is supposed to deter snakes. It's warm enough now that they aren't hibernating. Hopefully I spread enough so any critters thinking of coming near the greenhouse will change their minds.  

*At this time Marty does not have any prospects in Lincoln Nebraska, nor do I think he's applied for a job in Lincoln. 

Ms. Daisy's Daisy Quilt

Pictures below.

Paramedic Bob called me earlier in the month. He owns the local quilt shop and once in a while Buckaroo does odd jobs for him. I help him out too--mainly by telling everyone where they can find quilting fabric in town. 

Anyway, several weeks ago, a delightful woman drove more than an hour from some small town in Nowhere Arkansas with quilt pieces her mother, Ms. Daisy, hand-sewed together in 1982. The delightful woman wanted someone to make this into a quilt. Bob didn't have time (did I mention in addition to owning a quilt shop he also saves lives?) so he called me. 

Bob and I looked at her quilt blocks--which we both will swear on a stack of Holy Bibles were shaped like rectangles when we first saw them. My best guess is the fabric was once probably once a sheet or a set of curtains Ms. Daisy cut and sewed into hexagons. She added the leftover outgrown clothes of her children to complete these blocks. I only mention this because the color palate Ms. Daisy used is not what is in fashion now and Bob didn't have any reasonable fabric to compliment this. However, we did our best. 

Anyway, I took the job. And then I figured out they weren't rectangles but smashed hexagons. I spent two weeks staring at these things, trying to figure out a pattern that might make a reasonable quilt. Please keep in mind: if you've seen a blanket, you might notice it has four sides. These blocks did not match that and if sewn normally, would render an unusual pattern that wouldn't translate into a rectangular quilt. 

After several renditions of ideas from waves to the abstract, Marty and I sat down with these things. He is the one who came up with the design. However, that didn't get me any closer to figuring out how to piece it together and ultimately make it into a rectangle. So, I spent another week staring at the whole thing until an idea formed. 

I then went to town tearing up my kitchen, piecing the whole thing together. No matter, we all like to stand up and hold our bowls while we eat. 

It took me two and a half weeks of thinking and a week of assembling to come up with my final design. Tonight I dropped it off with Bob, who will longarm quilt the whole thing. Then I have to bind it. But, overall, I think it came out pretty well. And also, a huge shout-out to Bob who donated the fabric and interface backing to this project. Bless him. 

For those who think "skill and craftmanship" went into this, I'd like to set the record straight. I've been sewing for less than four years. I've made about 12 quilts in the last three and a half years. It wasn't skill and craftmanship. It was a seam ripper and a vocabulary of a sailor. However, I learned so much!  And honestly, it was fun to make this. 

The paper model with far too much math involved. 
Modern quilts are assembled in blocks from multiples of four.
This 1982-era block was multiples of six, squeezed into a rectangle. I half-wonder if Ms. Daisy never made it into a quilt because she figured out she was putting hexagons into a square hole and said, "oops!" 

  

Not gonna lie, I was afraid to cut Ms. Daisy's pieces. They were very frail.
I added a backing to them to make them sturdy. 

This looks simple. It isn't. 

Missing from this picture: the ironing board we all walked around. And Luna, who liked to be underfoot when I was cutting. My sewing machine was set up in my bedroom and Marty had to walk around that when he wanted to get to his side of the room. 

Also, see the orange piece on the small table? EVERY PIECE OF MS. DAISY'S HAD THAT SCALLOPED EDGE. So, they all had to be cut. My heart ached cutting into the blocks.
What if I mis-cut and ruined her hand-sewn block? But it had to be done to make this work. Plus, I wasn't sewing scalloped edges.  

That can of air on the table was to deter Leon who thought it was great fun to jump up there and take off with random quilt pieces. 


Ta-Da! 

Bob has this now and is putting it on his longarm machine. The red patch in the middle was from one of the leftover blocks. I originally thought I'd use some of the leftover blocks and make the border. However, that looked too busy. After I put this red piece in I debated pulling it out. But the 44 year old fabric is so frail I was afraid if I pulled it out I'd make a bigger disaster. 

So, Bob is going to sew (with his longarm quilting machine) a heart there and put the letter "D" inside it (for Ms. Daisy). The design on the quilt will be daisies.