DOHOMED

Today the Director of DOHO took on the vitamins and miscellaneous perishables in our cabinets. All is now catalogued. Marty and I have been given direct orders to no longer buy vitamins at Costco. Fair enough. We don't need to buy a year's supply of magnesium. 

I'm told the Christmas decorations are put away and my Christmas present is almost complete (reveal later!). Next on the Director's docket: the garage. Bwahahaha!

Oh yes, the only reason I'm writing this is because I'm at an impasse with my desk. 

Lest you think this is a complaint, Buckaroo is really enjoying his leadership role and we are enjoying watching him blossom. Plus, the house is less cluttered. 

Let's call this the "Before" picture.

The Director of DOHO

This morning, after Marty left for his gainful employment, Buckaroo, the Director of the Department of Home Optimization, called a work meeting. Given we had a quorum, he moved forward. 

First on the list, Christmas decorations would be coming down immediately. This wasn't terribly difficult. Because it rained every weekend from Thanksgiving to Christmas, there wasn't much outside decorating this year. Also, we opted to go small. We had a Charlie Brown-style Christmas tree, no lights, a few decorations, only two three four nativity sets*, a wreath on the door and garland around the fireplace. 

I then ran a few errands and came back to find the two young adults reorganizing the cabinets. Plus Buckaroo was cataloging all of the spare boxes, jars and bags we have--not a bad idea actually. I'm ashamed to admit I've bought too many jars of harissa at Trader Joes. The expired was tossed. The excess will be given to food banks in the local area. 

All in all, our home already feels lighter. 

Tomorrow, I tackle my desk. 

A couple of photos. 

Discussing with his sister how much hot cocoa she really needs. 

Deciding which hot cocoa is better. 

*It's a Catholic thing. I assure you, I have plenty more. 

Three-Time Winner

Corona night is always a hit. We eat dinner, play board/card games, laugh, and then laugh some more. Our cares, troubles and the world's problems are left outside and nobody leaves in a bad mood. Most games we play are more or less short in duration and for larger groups. Once in a while, we break up into two rooms and play a couple of different games at the same time. 

And then, once those who can't stay awake past 9 go home, Krissy breaks out Mexican Train. Generally there is anywhere between four and six of us, with threats of at least two calling it a night by 11--because Mexican Train is a REALLY LONG dominoes game that goes until after midnight, and sometimes after 2 a.m. 

Three Corona Nights ago, after the early birds left, Krissy brought out the dominoes. I brought out the peanut butter M&Ms (someone always brings them). And then moderately chill Patty, ultra-competitive Krissy and ultra-competitive Deb, the Queen of the Coronas and I, played Mexican Train until some wee hour of the morning. Much to Deb and Krissy's consternation, I won my very first game of Mexican Train. 

When I say "won," what I mean is I smoked them.  

In November, I also brought the peanut butter M&M's and as we sat down I pointed out that whomever brings the candy wins the game. They chided me but I went home with my second smoking victory. 

Now, there is no special skill or talent to this game. I just won because I won. However, this did not sit well with Deb and Krissy. 

So when Deb sent the group text out last week saying I was not to bring peanut butter M&Ms last Friday night. Most on the Corona text had no idea what that was about. However, there were two others who understood completely. I responded with "Bwhahaha." 

Though I didn't bring any candy, I did win my third Mexican Train game in a row. The closest score to mine was 150 points higher. Deb, the Queen of the Coronas threatened to not invite me back. Krissy seconded that. I told them both, that was fine, I'd just post my score cards on Facebook, showing everyone else their crushing defeat. 

The DOHO

You might have heard of the Department of Government Efficiency? Well, the Sunshines on Arizona Avenue have implemented the Department of Home Optimization, otherwise known as DOHO. The DOHO has only been in effect since Monday. However, the attitudes around here have shifted. We've had leftovers all week without complaint. My closet is cleaner. I'm coveting the plastic storage containers I've seen at Dollar General and Hobby Lobby.

Heading this department is Buckaroo, the family's unyielding starter-tyrant who is already making severe changes. 

"Mom, your desk is a disaster. I expect it to be resolved before January 1." 

"Polly, it's time to 'bless someone else'* with those clothes you don't wear that are cramming your closet."   

"Hey Dad, I think this weekend we should clean the garage. What? You are going to Little Rock with Mom? I can go. That way you two don't spend too much money at Trader Joe's." (We were planning on inviting him along.)

"Here's my white elephant gift." (Holds up an ancient stuffed-toy moose). "No point in buying something new." (At which point, Polly and I explained that perhaps something more adult would be appropriate for the adult Christmas party he was attending.)

Our DOHO didn't stem from a need to save money, it came about from the patches of clutter which cropped up in inconspicuous places and on my desk. Though we are generally tidy, there are pockets-- reams, actually--of paper generated from two college students and the avid Dungeons and Dragons players residing in my home. Additionally, we have an entire cupboard full of metal tumblers and I'm pretty sure they are unabashedly spawning. The cabinet over the refrigerator is now cram-packed full of candles nobody bought. And, would you look at that! I could wear a pair of socks once a day for a year and never wear the same pair twice. Now, to be fair, socks, candles and tea towels are common gifts around these parts. Plus, we moved from a severely larger home to the one we have now. Three years later, I still rummage through boxes stashed in the garage or the shed, looking for this and that. 

Here's to a more optimized home. 

*This just tickles me! This was the term I used when the kids were little and we were donating items.  

I'm Gonna See My Little Brothers Next Month!

Happy me! Just booked my ticket because I'm going to Florida to visit my brother, Darwin, in a couple of weeks. And later in January--I'm sorry, I STILL don't have an arrival date, but I know I'm going to be staying until at least February 11--I'm going to Phoenix to visit Squirrel. 

Though Darwin is 100 miles closer to me than Squirrel, I'll fly out of Little Rock. I hate driving through Florida more than I hate driving through Texas, I guess. Still haven't decided how I'm getting to Phoenix. 

Three Years Today

Today marks three years since we became Texans. 

Three years ago, I had a father and a cat. 

Three years ago, the family looked around in confusion, wondering where the bright sunshine, desert and pink houses went. What we found instead was a forest, four seasons and a place where possums unapologetically live in folks' back yards.     

Three years ago we discovered we are fabulous cooks. 

Three years ago we discovered donuts could taste amazing. 

Three years ago we discovered our Arizona winter clothes were inadequate.

Three years ago we discovered the locals own more than one rain coat, several pairs of warm gloves, hats, scarves and umbrellas. 

Three years ago we discovered we could leave our personal belongings in our unlocked car at the Walmart and find our personal belongings right where we left them.   

I told Marty when we left Arizona, I'd commit to living anywhere for five years. I'm pretty sure I can handle another two years in East Texas.

The A List

There were eight of us last night. Deb, the Queen of the Coronas went all out--dinner party style--with a grandly set table, centerpieces, and several types of forks. As I sat, listening to the conversations around me, I wondered how I got so lucky to meet these women. 

As much as I miss my Arizona peeps--and I miss them all--I'm grateful to have been welcomed unconditionally into this group for no rhyme or reason. Their culture and upbringing is so different than what I know. And yet... There is truly an awe of being included when starting over. And if that sounds hyperbolic, I remember rambling around Wake Village, mourning my daddy's passing, wishing I had a sympathetic ear at a time when I desperately needed a friend. So, I have some reasons. 

Forgive me. This time of year brings out the sentimental. It is exactly three years ago today that I saw my father for the last time. Three days later, we arrived in Texas. 

Anyway, mini-Corona night was a blast. We played some new Uno game (which the Sunshines are getting for Christmas), where one hand lasted three hours and there are "draw 10" cards. After half the ladies left, the four remaining played Mexican Train--a dominoes game, Krissy is very sorry she taught me, especially because I cleaned their clocks for the second time. 

Next week is the official Corona Night. There are sixteen Coronas, if we all show. It is obvious this past week's party was only for a select few. I'm honored to have been on that A-list. 

The Yep List

Well now, if I'm going to have a Nope List, why not a Yep List? 

This one seems easier. 

The 2025 Yep List

The Coronas. That's a no-brainer. Even though the 837 daily group texts can be tedious, the women continue to make me smile. 

Writing. Another no-brainer, and what I do during 90 percent of my week. 

Sewing. What I do when I have writer's block. 

Gardening. I see a pattern here: creative pursuits.

Yoga. I really should write a post on Texarkana yoga.  

Master Gardening. This is a sanctioned activity that requires a bit of scheduling. There are educational classes and volunteer opportunities. However those activities do not have to include the Community Garden Coalition or working with children.  

Some One-On-One Social Activities. What comes to mind: Once a month lunches with Joy and Leah. Once a month teas with Val. Once a month breakfasts with Suzy. 

The Thursday Lunch Bunch. Mainly, this is all Church of Christ ladies and me, their adopted whateverIam. There can be anywhere from six to twenty of us. I go a couple times a month and I've never been disappointed. 

Book Club Number Three. The women are fabulous. The discussion is lively. 

The Golden Quill Writer's Group. We just started this and it is taking off! Texarkana (and the surrounding area) needed a writer's group. I'm an officer until next year--at which point I happily give up my office to someone more worthy.  

One Writing Critique Group. (this is not the Golden Quills) I recognize I need this in my life because writing is a lonely pursuit and regular feedback is important. I had two critique groups at one time. Of those  people, I'm willing to keep one of those writers. In a perfect world, she and I start a completely new writing critique group. I should also add, even though the Golden Quill Writer's group has writers, that doesn't mean they have folks I want as part of my critique group. If one is writing about dragons, they don't want to read romance. If one is writing a mystery, a writer with a burning interest in Texas history probably doesn't want to critique a who-done-it. So, this takes a bit of finessing. 

The Nope List

When I first moved here, I had zero hobbies, no life and a lot of time. I said yes to every invitation that came along--not that many came along that first year. I remember walking around the grocery store,  trying to strike up conversations with strangers just to have human interaction. My activity level didn't pick up until last year, when I was test driving new hobbies and speed-dating new friends. This year was more status quo, and I learned something: I don't want this many hobbies and I don't need to have this many people in my life.

Though I'm grateful for these experiences, I'm ready to let some of these things go. Therefore, I've started my 2025 Nope List. 

The Gathering of Authors--as an author or volunteer In fact, I'm really okay if I have nothing to do with this event in any capacity for any reason at any point in the future. 

The Community Garden Coalition I haven't written much (if at all) about it. The short version is this: it is under the umbrella of the Master Gardeners. The woman who runs it has zero leadership skills whatsoever. Her husband is an insufferable know-it-all who dislikes anyone who challenges him with logic and facts. I'm not a good long-term fit because: 1) There's no future vision for this group, and when I've pushed the woman in charge, what I've discovered is that if I'm not careful I could be the one running it in a couple of years 2) The husband and I butt heads. It's best to bow out gracefully, while this group is still in its infancy. There are other opportunities I can find within the Master Gardeners. 

Leadership Roles At the last Master Gardener meeting, the issue of needing people to serve as officers came up. Some %#^&$! piped up and nominated me for treasurer. Obviously this person has no clue, because any soul who's had two conversations with me knows better than to put me in charge of a detailed spreadsheet of numbers. I said, "I'm not a good fit, plus, I'm going to have to miss several meetings next year." Or at least, I'm now going to miss several of them. Speaking of leadership roles, I'm currently the secretary of the Golden Quill Writer group. It was supposed to be until January, however, we recognized changing officers three months into this new group was foolish. What I do isn't difficult and takes very little time. But I'm a one-term secretary. 

The Saturday Book Club I like these ladies, however, most of the time, they don't read the book. They just get together, have a (terrible) lunch and catch up from the last time they saw each other. I hate going and finding out I took the time to read the book and have put effort and thought into the story only to discover nobody else did. 

The Library Book Club These folks aren't my peers. There's no discussion. The facilitator asks us to rank the book 1-5 and would we recommend it to a friend? Most of the time the books aren't that great or thought-provoking.  

The Tuesday/Friday Lunch Bunch I don't think I've written about these women. They are wonderful and get together twice a week. They aren't religious, are known to drop an occasional swear word when the occasion calls for it and have a variety of broad perspectives on any given topic. I'm not real active with them, however they are still welcoming when I show up. Though every time I'm with them, it is an enjoyable experience, they just don't meet at a convenient time for me. Also, I am the youngest of this group by about 12 years. Of all that I am letting go, this is the one that makes me the saddest.

Sacred Heart Catholic Church I still go to St. Edward's Catholic Church (St. Ed's) on occasion. But I'm done with Sacred Heart. The church is dirty. The priest insists on incense (an old Catholic tradition designed to accelerate the climb to Heaven through suffocating parishioners). This particular priest also likes to shake his finger and tell those who took the time to show up how those who aren't in the pews are destined to a potential damnation. At least at St. Ed's, the priest just gives a nice history lesson based on the Gospel reading. He's much more interesting and less damning. Plus the church is clean and I can breathe. 

All Committees Related to Sacred Heart Catholic Church I am not currently part of any committee related to Sacred Heart Catholic Church. However, I get regular text messages from the Ladies Auxiliary and a couple other committees someone thought I needed to be on. I never respond because I never volunteered to be on these committees. I'm now ready to reply to the group texts and ask that my name be taken off the roster. 

Angel Quilters I tried out this group. They have a great mission. They make quilts for cancer patients. I have zero issues making quilts for cancer patients. I have zero issues making quilts and giving it to the Angel Quilters to pass on to cancer patients. I have a million issues with spending five hours every Tuesday afternoon with these women while they bash whatever they are grumpy about on this particular day. The last time I went, they went on a collective rant about how stupid and greedy realtors are. Given I was outnumbered, I saw no reason to correct their collective opinion. There've been other collective rants I haven't agreed with, and five hours a week of group-think is a little too much. 

Nominated for the Nope List 

One of my online writing groups I have two. Both have been in hiatus. Neither group has the personality profile where I would feel comfortable suggesting they be combined into one bigger group. Additionally, I'm finding I only miss ONE member from ONE group and her specific writing feedback. Given I own the Zoom account, they count on me to facilitate this. I don't have a desire to facilitate at this time. 

The reason I'm not taking this off my list just yet is because we haven't been meeting. If the groups (except the one writer I mentioned) die out that's fine. If I can find a different writing group (bringing in the writer I mentioned), I'd be fine with that.  

I'm Bringing Pasta Salad

 A quick note went out to a select few folks: 

"Mini Corona night Friday. Theme: Italian food. I'm bringing garlic bread. Tell us what you are bringing for dinner." 

Goodness! After my first year in Texarkana where I watched paint dry and looked forward to the mail carrier stopping by just so I could say hello to someone--anyone--a text message like this is still a treat. I'm so tickled to have been on this list, because the "real" Corona night is next week--with everyone. This is more of an intimate group of--dare I say it--A listers. 

Come to think of it, this list could also be the ones Krissy wants to beat in dominoes. Given I smoked her during our last game, I probably should let my ego fall a notch or two.  

Island Time

 

18 holes of mini-golf near the Gulf. 

When we asked the young adults what they wanted for Christmas, they said they wanted a family vacation. It just so happened, this was the week which accommodated everyone's schedule. 

The vacation destination came about through about two weeks of bantering. Branson and New Orleans are both 5 hours away. St. Louis 8 hours. Chicago 10. Nashville, 8 hours. Pigeon Forge 10 hours. And then, some brilliant person pointed out we froze our buns off in Eastern Tennessee last year and how about going somewhere warm? 

And hence, Galveston was tossed on the table as a vacation destination. "You going to be okay if there isn't a theme park involved?" I asked the three other Sunshines. And what do you know!? They assured me they were fine. 

We've been hanging out in Galveston for the past four days. There's been about 23 miles of walking (I tracked it), which has included museums, axe throwing, two hours of a Catholic priest stand-up comedian, miniature golf, walking by the seawall, bike riding, and board games. There's been great debates: such as can one find a better food scene in a democrat or republican-run city. The unanimous consensus is democrat-run cities. We've talked about childhood friends, extended family and their future dreams and goals. 

As for Marty and me, we are eating up all the extra time we have with our grown children. We know this time is coming to an end at some point. 

Canceled

No Jury service. 

Bummer. I wanted to serve. Just not this week. 

Civic Duty

I'm scheduled to report to the court house tomorrow for jury duty.  

Here's what I know: 

I am not being given the option of "call in the night before and we will let you know." Nope, I got a "See you on November 19 and don't be late," letter.

I have not been selected for a jury as of yet--at least to my knowledge. 

I leave for vacation on Friday.  

Observations

I've had a bit of a mental list going in my head. Thought I'd dump it here. 

Where I live: 

• The word "boil" is one syllable. I can't even pronounce it, so please don't ask. 

• The word "ice" is twelve syllables. 

• Personal questions aren't considered personal. For example, I wear a brace on my knee. I've done so for the better part of 20 years. Around here, when I wear shorts or a skirt, perfect strangers will walk up to me and ask, "What's wrong with your knee?" I'm told they are being (ahem) "friendly." 

• Gossip is considered news. Polly has a medical issue. I asked someone I know who is familiar with insurance for some guidance (because our insurance denied the coverage AFTER the tests were run). After giving advice, she said, "I'm heading to Bible class. We'll be praying for Polly today." At one point, I fought this. Now I'm so used to this, I often forget it is NOT normal and a bit creepy.    

• Going to Bible class is considered a social activity. 

• I turn left onto busy streets at five p.m. on Tuesday afternoons without traffic lights and I don't fear for my life. 

• Gasoline is currently $2.36 a gallon and my electric bill last month was $83. 

• It is normal to discuss wildlife as if they are residents of the area and not wild critters. As an example, I just uttered this sentence: "Did you see the dead snake on Brown Drive?" (I checked. It was dead. ) 

• It is normal to "reply all." It is considered rude NOT to "reply all." In this case, I'm okay being rude. 

• If two or more are headed somewhere (like Hobby Lobby, the coffee shop, movies, etc.), it is customary to invite everyone else along in an text thread and then have everyone else "reply all" their status, so that your phone will ding for the next 20 minutes. Additionally, for some maddening reason, it is also customary to "heart" every response in the group text so that your phone will ding for another 20 minutes thereafter. My phone is usually on silent and I miss out on invitations because I don't see them until hours later when I scroll through 300 text messages. 

• Someone who is ill will have 35 meals delivered to their home, whether they want the meals or not. If you are a foodie, it is best not to mention illness is running rampant in the house, lest you want 50 pounds of homemade fried catfish, cornbread and banana pudding on your doorstep. Which brings up this: someone cared enough about you to take the time to make you a meal. Oh, by the way, you probably are also on 5 prayer lists.   

• Speaking of fried catfish, cornbread and banana pudding... the color of food in the South ranges from yellow to tan. Don't believe me? The Pantone color for chicken spaghetti is PMS 7402C. 

• Mayonnaise is a staple in Southern cooking. I don't understand Southern cooking.  

Nope. No. Never. Not Gonna Happen.

That Red Circle

Last year I met Freddy, who runs the Gathering of Authors*. She asked me if I would help her with the 2024 event, which for the past 14 years has been held the first weekend in November. I explained I was working for Bowie County with the elections and the timing didn't work for me. So, I'd be happy to help in other capacities, but not on the day of. Freddy--who really should be a real estate agent, with her inability to hear "no"--decided if I was showing any sign of being willing to help at all, would move the event to the weekend after the election. Problem solved! After all, how tired could I possibly be? 

Throughout the year, while Freddy sat at her day job, I helped gather silent auction donations from generous folks. It took little time to drive up to the local tire shop/restaurant/salon/gift boutique and ask for the gift card/trinket they'd committed to giving. And frankly, I didn't mind.  

As the event day grew nearer, and it appeared I wouldn't be working early voting, I told Freddy I'd be free to help on the actual day of the event. Tears--TEARS--rolled down her eyes as she expressed her gratitude, telling me she had "no idea" how she was going to handle this event "by herself" this year. To hear Freddy tell her tale, she was a one-woman wonder who carried the success of event on her shoulders. And to be fair, this has been her baby for the past 15 years. She really is the face behind the Gathering of Authors. 

Freddy even invited me to the dinner the night before where two delightful people were speaking. In all honesty, I didn't want to go. I asked if it would be all right to pass on it, but she insisted. After all, she said, it was the least she could do for all my driving around Texarkana for the past six months. 

Sure. Fine. I came. I ate a pulled pork sandwich and heard an amazing tale from our keynote speakers. 

The next morning, the actual day of the event, I dutifully showed up at 8:30, just as Freddy asked. The poor girl was frazzled. "Here could you handle... no wait! Hey? Where's my phone? Call my phone for me. I lost it." And in her next breath, "I see you called me? What did you want?"  

But what I found out was that I wasn't the only volunteer she'd pulled the "I'm a one woman show and desperately need help!!!!" routine. In fact, there were so many of us, I had nothing to do. 

I'm not going to say I resented the entire experience, after all, I agreed. I'm a grown woman and know how to say "No," which will be the first word that comes out of my mouth next year. I met some amazing local authors. Two of whom are joining the Golden Quills this coming week. I got a free book for my nephew and accidentally sold one of mine just through a little networking.  

I am going to say I was beyond exhausted. I had not caught up on my sleep. I have a garden which needs attention. I have a book to write. I have a few Coronas I wouldn't have minded hanging out with. And, I have a family I love and wanted to spend time with. 

By the way, I announced at 11:30 that morning I was heading home. I'm not sorry. The event was up and running and there were 690 other volunteers helping out. Frankly, I'm convinced if I'd just skedaddled out the door, Freddy wouldn't have noticed.

Incidentally, I don't hold any ill will against Freddy. Take her out of the confines of this event, and she's pretty cool. I can compartmentalize crazy and am grateful others often offer me the same grace. 

A few weeks ago, Freddy asked if I want to have a booth at next year's Gathering of Authors. After watching this year's event, my answer is firm: "No thanks." I don't see the point. It is like a huge book fair in the middle of nowhere. The price for the booth is nuts and I didn't see enough book buyers driving to the middle of the forest from Texarkana to make the entire experience profitable for the authors. 

After I passed on a booth, she instantly pivoted and wanted to get my commitment in helping out next year. 

That's a Hard Ho. Nope. No Way. Bless your heart, that's not happening.  

*Money raised goes to the Greater Texarkana Autism Awareness

Election Day part 2

We had a line of enthusiastic voters starting around 6:15 Tuesday morning. People braved the thunder and lightening, ready to do their civic duty, all in the name of Team America. 

One of the best parts of election day was the sheer volume of first time voters who came in. We celebrated as many as we could. First time voters are such a treat! We high-fived them, clapped and cheered them along. Other voters stepped up, congratulating the new voters. Our new voters weren't just young adults, we had folks as old as 78 coming in for the first time to vote. 

Sadly, we also had several who tried to game the system, giving us the same talking points of how it was legal to register and vote on the same day. Or better yet, how they knew they were registered, even though their name wasn't showing up in the system. Those folks couldn't tell us when they registered or if they'd voted in other elections. And--every single time--when we offered to call the courthouse to find out why they weren't in the system (because it does happen more often than it should) they all bolted. And my favorite: we had the ones who lived in Arkansans, were registered to vote in Arkansas (so they said) but insisted they always voted in Texas.

For the most part, everyone was friendly and kind. Someone even brought us bottles of water! Nobody wore candidate merch Tuesday. However, there was a larger than necessary faction of voters who wanted to take selfies, or pictures of their ballots, or talk on the phone and process the entire voting experience with their best friend. 

At the end of the day, we had 750 voters. To put that in perspective, during the primary we had about 500. I got home at 8:30 and managed to arrive before Buckaroo, whose site had significantly less voters. I went to bed, not having the least bit curiosity about what was going on with the the outcome of the election. In the morning, I found a plethora of play-by-play text messages from Polly, who stayed up watching the results. 

 

Election Day

Today is Election Day. I'm sure you knew that before you read that previous sentence. Unfortunately, given the number of people who showed up at my voting site yesterday wanting to vote, I'm guessing the word hadn't gotten out. 

Yesterday, Miss Hattie (my presiding judge--Yay!) and I set up the voting machines. It took us three hours of setting up machines, unwinding electrical cords, and testing and verifying the machines. Buckaroo came by after he set up his own voting precinct (yep, he's doing this too) and helped us. 

A word about Miss Hattie. She's a Southern woman of indiscernible age. Buck met her yesterday, later telling me her first name is obviously "Miss." No matter what she asks, every answer automatically begins with, "yes, ma'am."

When I talked to Miss Hattie yesterday, she wanted to make sure we were on the same page about what to do if we had "aggressive" voters. I'd heard about the ugly voter last week who didn't want to remove his red hat. I had no idea Miss Hattie had been the one threatened. She isn't having any of it today. 

By the way, she has me working the line/floor/door instead of checking in voters because (according to Miss Hattie) I have "no-nonsense facial expressions." I'll have my 10,000 steps by 9 a.m. However, I get to be the ones to remind folks to leave their handguns and election merch in the car.  

I've packed a second set of clothing. Incidentally, I noticed Buck has as well. It is pouring rain right now--which seems to be a requirement around here for election days. Because there are voters who need to who utilize curbside voting, if it's raining, the voting machine and the voter get the umbrella and I get soaked. Every time I've done this, I've changed clothes. 

Polly and Marty Sunshine have been given marching orders of what to bring us for lunch. Polly is bringing food to me, Marty is bringing food for Buck. Last time, our team had a potluck. However, I was the only one who brought anything tasty and it was pretty much gone before I got my lunch at 4 p.m.

One last reminder, be kind to your election workers. Even if you've already voted, if you are in the neighborhood, they wouldn't mind a bottle of water and and good vibes.  

Oh, and keep your political merch at home. Miss Hattie isn't having any of it. 

The Rules of Engagement

In case you haven't heard, tomorrow is Election Day here in the US. Though there are now several ways to handle one's ballot, many traditional folks wait until the actual first Tuesday of November to cast their vote. This year, I'm being told it will be a busy one. So, to make mine and other election workers' jobs a tad easier, I thought I give y'all marching orders. 

1. Election workers are paid pittance. We aren't doing this for the money, fame or glory. In fact, by the time 5 a.m. Tuesday morning rolls around, there are several of us wondering if we might have the teensiest tickle in our throat so we can call in sick. That said, be kind to those serving. And--this is a personal favor--remind others to do the same. 

2. You might have to wait in line. Yep. That happens. Yelling at us how you "have been here 45 minutes" doesn't change the fact you've been here 45 minutes. We are working a 16+ hour day and don't care. Also, if you you are waiting in line when the polls close, you will still get to vote. That is Federal Law. So, stay in line. But please don't take it out on us that you waited until the end of the day to vote. 

3. Unless you are active law enforcement, your firearm does not come in the voting room. Don't argue with me. Don't "what if..." me. If you have a problem, take it up with the Secretary of State. Thank you.

3a. "Active Law Enforcement" means someone with a badge. We aren't talking about a a mall cop. 

3b. One last thing about firearms. We both know what "Active Law Enforcement" means. Give us a break. There's a line 100 people deep outside and now you are holding it up fighting me about open carry/NRA/the Second Amendment. Put your gun in your car. We are too busy to deal with you.  

4. We ask Federal Law demands that your phone is off. And more importantly, all recording devices (such as your phone) are off while you are in the voting room. Surly you saw the 15 signs posted all over the place mentioning this! You cannot take a selfie of you, holding your ballot. You cannot take a picture of your ballot as "proof" you voted. You cannot take a video and put it on TickTack/Instagum/Faceplant/XYZ or any other social media site. 

4a. Don't be difficult about the phone/camera rule. It's posted everywhere. I have no desire to talk to a judge at 11 p.m. Tuesday night, explaining why I "allowed" you to film Karen over there casting her ballot. Please! Just help a girl out.   

5. We celebrate first time voters. Join us. We love seeing newly Naturalized Citizens and/or 18 year olds vote. 

6. A word about the "I voted stickers." You will notice a few extraordinary things in that tiny, yet sticky, piece of paper. a) The pronoun is I. Singular. You need ONE sticker. b) The verb is past tense. It already happened. You may not walk into the voting room and take your sticker before you voted. It's like demanding the receipt from Walmart before paying for the groceries. 

6a. If you need "proof" your ballot was cast, that's what the sticker is for--not your camera.

7. Please (PLEASE!!) keep all your election merch at home when you go vote. Though Connie may be your desired candidate for Little Miss Rice Patch, if you wear her button into the voting room, I will have to ask you to remove it because that's called "Electioneering" and it is illegal. Karen over there can call the Secretary of State's office and I will be seeing a judge at 11 p.m. Tuesday night and explaining how I "allowed" you to influence Karen's Little Miss Rice Patch vote. This goes for candidate T-shirts, hats, and other SWAG too. 

7a. If you have a T-shirt which might say something derogatory about the other candidate, such as "Mary is the worst Little Miss Rice Patch Candidate EVAH" it still counts as Electioneering.

7b. If you are sporting any slogan from a political campaign, I'm told that is considered the same as sporting the candidate's name. I heard a story from early voting last week of a voter who threatened one of the election officials because the election official (doing his job) wouldn't give him his ballot until the the guy removed his red hat with a particular slogan. Don't be that guy. And if you feel you should be entitled to display a potential slogan without a candidate's name, that's awesome. Feel any way you want as long as you take off the hat for the ten minutes you are in the voting room. 

8. If you participated in early voting or mailed your ballot in, don't stand in line for an hour and then feign outrage about how you haven't voted and the system is rigged. We have your signature on file and can tell you what day and what location you voted at. 

9. There are no paper ballots to punch or ways take a marker and color in the line. Everything is done on the computer now. If that isn't your thing, sorry. That's how it is done in my county. If you need assistance, I'm happy to help. However, I will not give you a paper ballot because there are NO PAPER BALLOTS and this is 2024--even in Bowie County, Texas. Don't take out your luddite frustrations on my clerks.

10. When you come in to vote, we will not be discussing political opinions. You cannot goad me, shame me or trick me into discussing anything on the ballot. As an election official, it isn't my job to tell you who to vote for. Besides, I'm sure you already have an opinion or two. 

And finally this word. I honestly don't care who you vote for. I never will. If one party or the other doesn't win, the world will still revolve on Wednesday and I expect to continue breathing. Though the playbook looks different to some, we are all on Team America. You do you.   

Darkest Before Dawn

It is currently 30 minutes before the sun is supposed to be fully in the sky. There are no pinks, oranges or yellow hues glowing in the distance. There's no teasing of the sun's rays, reflecting off the clouds, giving off any sort of light whatsoever. In fact, if I hadn't checked the clock, I could have mistook the hour for 2 a.m. 

Here, the sun just comes up. Poof! One moment it is completely dark--(forgive me) as night--and the next moment the sun is high in the sky. Same with the sunset.   

I miss sunrises. I miss sunsets. 

I will never get used to this. 

The Upcoming Holiday

Folks in these parts take Halloween a bit too seriously for my tastes. Don't even get me started about how last year it took me 45 minutes to drive 1/10 of a mile because the streets were clogged with trick-or-treaters... But, if it works for them. 

Recently, Marty and I walked to Dollar General. On the way back I snapped these photos from various homes around Wake Village. The one I didn't get was of the scarecrow that was taller than the actual house. 

This last one we've debated about. Would someone find a bat hanging on a street sign in Mesa or would it have been stolen or would the city officials have kyboshed it? 

Sewing Social Circles

Dr. Jekyll created a monster. I tell him that often. Bob, is a 66 year old paramedic who loves to quilt. A couple of years ago, he put an ad in the neighborhood newsletter, asking if anyone wanted to learn to quilt. With way too much time and way too little social life--then anyway--I signed up. 

Bob and his wife Cindy opened a quilt shop this year. I found that to be useful, though I'm not sure Marty agrees. 

Anyway... A couple of weeks ago, I realized Corona Krissy had a birthday coming up. Though I don't normally make handmade gifts, I found this pattern, which seemed extremely easy and would make a fun pillow. Plus, it really reminded me of her. 

 

I was right! It took me an hour to make! 

Then I realized Corona Jenna had a birthday the day after Krissy's. I certainly couldn't give Krissy a handmade gift and not give Jenna a handmade gift at the very same birthday party. Plus, Dr. Jekyll had a sale of fabric. So, why not? 

And wouldn't you know it? Corona (and real estate agent) Tessa also has a birthday this week. I had enough fabric for for two table runners. So... 

But it really isn't Tessa's kind of thing. She's more elegant and less whimsy. Besides, I hadn't seen Bob and Cindy in two days and I heard he had new fabric. So, I made this one. 

And then I realized there is a deer backside in the middle star. 

That's okay, Marty likes this table runner. Or, I might donate it to the Master Gardener's White Elephant Christmas party game.

Tessa is probably getting a whimsical table runner. 

But, Corona Connie ALSO is celebrating her birthday this week at the same birthday party. And, she's a  quilter. Fortunately, Bob and Cindy had gifted me some pretty fabric that I was itching to do something with. 

This one is my favorite. 

My one hour pillow gift turned into three weeks of sewing in my bedroom as well as several hours at Bob's quilt shop running his long arm quilting machine. Bob taught me to use his long arm quilting machine so that I don't have to pay him to do this.  

Oh, and while I was at Bob's quilt shop today, I met Rebecca who lives down the street. We've already made plans to get together to sew.  

 

Random Texarkana

 Two Three Random Sunday Texarkanas

1. After church today, a woman in her mid-50s scaled the pews and salmon-dived through the crowds to get over to Buckaroo. She wanted to introduce herself and say she'd never seen either of us at church* before. And by the way, she had a daughter about Buckaroo's age who was a senior in high school who (as she frantically looks around) was "around there somewhere". When she found out Buckaroo was 22, she then started telling us about her lovely 21 year old daughter who would be home at Christmas and perhaps they'd be sure to sit near us during Sunday service.

2. While this was going on, Buckaroo wasn't paying any attention to this conversation because a woman I barely knew had walked up to us, introduced herself to my son and started telling him HE "needed" to read my book. At this point, Buck was taking baby-steps towards the door, looking for a break in the crowds so he could bolt. Unfortunately, Corona Gail, Corona Krissy, Corona Ruth and Corona Suzy cornered him (and me) to say hello. 

3. Buckaroo came to church with me today. 

*I go almost every week and sit in the same place. 

Election Update

The Early Voting schedule came out and I am not on it. Fourteen hour days for five days at a time are taxing in the best circumstances. And though Texarkana is fairly civil, I don't see any reason to subject myself to extra crazy. Besides, after the additional training we received on what to do if there's a bomb threat, active shooter and other types of discontented voters wishing to do more than express their right to vote, I'm not sorry. 

When I called to confirm I had the next two weeks off (yippee!) I was told there are too many folks who need additional training so Rich has the newer folks working Early Voting, giving the "seasoned" ones the time off. Whether it is truly that or it is because Rich's boss hates me--he really does--I don't care the reason. I'll take my sanity instead. 

I am working the election at my "usual" location in the hood. Plus, I'm working with my favorite Presiding Judge--this is our fourth election together. This time I'm the Alternate Judge. Other than the fact she will be the one signing the time cards, I'm not sure any of the roles and responsibilities between us will change. 

National Buckaroo Day

How can this one be 22?

It feels like just yesterday my baby was asking me to sew superhero costumes for him and selecting pretty rocks to give to me. Today, he, Marty and I went to Little Rock for his birthday lunch at his favorite dumpling restaurant. Tomorrow we will continue the celebration. Polly will be around and we will hang here, eat one of his favorite meals and play Uno and Settlers of Catan.  

A few pictures from through the years.

 

Patrick's Visit (The Vampire Diaries)

This is day 237 of 4 hours of sleep. The great news is I'm getting a lot done--like housecleaning, laundry and watching the weather updates on Milton*, because there isn't a lot to do at 3 a.m. in Texarkana.

My favorite human, Patrick and his mother (my wonderful sister-in-law) left yesterday. His cousins loved on him for four days, Buck took him geocaching and made all kinds of Lego creations which might actually impress a special architect friend of mine. Patrick liked the idea that he has toys in two different states. Additionally, Patrick and Polly made birthday cookies for Buckaroo. Even Luna got into the action, making sure to play with her long-lost pal every chance she got. 

We took an hour drive to Mount Pleasant (population 16,000) on Monday where we toured the Sweet Shop, the largest hand-crafted chocolate factory in US. The Sweet Shop provides private label the chocolate to many retailers including Nordstrom's, Neiman Marcus, Target and Buc-cees stores. Plus, between Patrick's charm and Buckaroo's self-proclaimed "drop dead gorgeousness" the two got their fair-share of free samples from the cute 20-something tour guide who would have been flipping her hair off her shoulder every time she smiled at Buck (or he at her), if we weren't all wearing hairnets in the factory. 

Patrick is enamored with all things Texarkana. Knowing this, last Christmas, I gave him a book series from Cal, a local author who writes books for boys. Cal is a friend and one of the fellow founding members of the Golden Quill Writers. He wanted to meet fan-boy Patrick. And Patrick wanted to meet his (ahem!) Favorite Author. Tuesday before Patrick and his mother drove back to Dallas, we went to Cal's office, where the meet-and-greet took place and Patrick got to meet "someone famous."
 

Patrick and Cal

*Speaking of Milton, I have a cousin in Tampa. Marty's Uncle Sunshine lives on an island west of Fort Myers and my brother Darwin is in Boca Raton--on the east side of the state.

  

Happy!

My favorite human, Patrick, arrives today!!!! 

How Big is this Place?

Maybe because I live on the very Eastern edge of the state, but I rarely think about how big Texas actually is. This morning, around 3 a.m., I was woken by a state-wide "Blue Alert" because 406 miles away a police officer had just been killed. To put that in perspective: my former home in Mesa, AZ to Venice Beach, Los Angeles CA is ALSO 406 miles.

I did a bit of digging and discovered these facts: 

North and South Carolina fit easily inside Texas with room to spare for Virginia, Alabama, West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee and Georgia. 

Also of note, I live closer to Chicago, IL than I do to El Paso, Texas. 

I live closer to Miami, FL than I do to Phoenix. 

And finally, Texas is twice the size of Italy and about the same size as the Ukraine.  

On the Facebook

There are a few ways to get news around here. All of them include Facebook. This was posted the other day. And let me say this, it is a pretty typical kind of post. 

Marty pointed out this happened on the Arkansas side and that might have played a role in the poor grammar... I think they were speaking into their phone and Google couldn't translate the drawl. But, that's off topic. 

Texans Love Their Football

According to that bastion of accuracy, Google there are more than 9,000 high schools in the State of Texas. Breaking this down further, there are 252 5A schools, which consist of 1300-2200 students. 

Currently undefeated, Texarkana's own Texas High is ranked fourth in the state in 5A football. They are in the same company as schools in Dallas, San Antonio, Austin, Corpus Christi, Houston, Lubbock and Houston. Even area rival high schools* are getting behind Texas High, cheering them on to the state championship. 

*There are 3 in Texarkana, TX, one in Texarkana Arkansas, and 5 more throughout Bowie County. However I believe only Texas High School is ranked 5A

It Was Bound To Happen (Part 2)

When I came home last night from some Corona-thing, Marty said, "Don't look in the trash can." 

Well now, though I can respect that kind of talk from my husband of 26 years, it didn't stop me from asking the very obvious question: "Why?"

"I just killed a snake and I hadn't gotten around to putting it in the outside trash just yet. I thought I had more time before you got home." And then, Marty looked at me and said these words. "It was on the back porch. I'm pretty sure it was the same one Polly found last week on the front porch." 

Though I appreciate his effort to appease me, I am pretty sure it isn't the same snake. First, the snake Polly found last week was black. This now-dead one, I'm told, is tan. (Marty could not confirm it was a copperhead and I wasn't opening the trash can). Second--and this is just me--I'm pretty that snake didn't slither to the back yard just to hang out on the back porch. To be fair, I don't know what goes on in the inner workings of such a creature's mind, but perhaps this one came from the woods behind our home?  

Ever proactive and terrified that I'm following through on my threat to move back to Phoenix*, Marty told me he'd already set out even more Snakeaway from the bag he'd purchased last week. He offered to buy another bag as soon as this one ran out if it would make me "feel better." It won't make me feel better. But yes, he can buy more and liberally distribute it everywhere.  

*And for anyone reading this who wants to point out there are snakes in Arizona, I'm aware. When I was six, there was a rattler in my Phoenix backyard. My little brothers and I have been terrified of snakes ever since. However, since then, most snakes have been driven out of the suburbs. And, the majority of the time they are polite enough to let others know they'd like to be left alone.  

My Texas Card

During Lunch Bunch Thursday, I made the mistake of saying I'd never tried Blue Bell ice cream. I said this the same way I'd say, "I've never tried to impale my eyes," or "I've never won the lottery's mega-millions." You know, one of those casual in-conversation statements. 

It is no exaggeration when I say, every single member of my lunch party dropped their fork and gaped at me, as if I'd actually forgotten to mention I'd won the lottery the day before, right after I'd impaled my eyes. Deb, the Queen of the Corona's snapped, "There goes your Texas card!" 

And the shaming began... 

The shaming continued during dinner last night before we saw The Hunchback of Notre Dame. What? I hadn't YET tried this wonderful Texas treat? It had been more than 24 hours since I'd made my fateful confession. What was wrong with me? How could I willingly miss out on 66 wonderous flavors of creamy goodness? 

The true answer is I've had Michigan ice cream and I doubt anything will top that. However, my Texas card was on the line. So, at the grocery store today, I bought Blue Bell ice cream. Let's just say, it isn't isn't Michigan ice cream nor is it the worst ice cream I've ever had. 

In order to have my Texas card reinstated, it wasn't as simple as sampling Blue Bell. I had to pledge my loyalty to Dr Pepper, Wataburger, the Alamo, the Texas Rangers and promise to always hate the cheating Houston Astros. Nobody brought up the Dallas Cowboys or Tex-Mex, which probably was a good thing, because I'm not sure I'm that good a liar. 

I'm pleased to say I'm now an "official" Texan once again. 

Too Bad The Weather Isn't Checking the Calendar

Turns out there's a law in the South that states a wooden door hanger must be displayed on all homes. I'm just doing my part. 

Yesterday

Today

21 Days

 Well now, after 21 days, Bonus dad left the hospital today and was transferred to a skilled nursing facility for his rehabilitation. Hopefully he can go back to Arizona soon. 

It Was Bound To Happen

A snake was found outside the front door tonight. Before Marty could help it along to its Great Reward, the snake slithered away and is now under a bush, laying in wait. Texas is a stand your ground state, and as far as I'm concerned, this is a credible threat. If I weren't so tired from a marathon trip to Michigan last week, I'd be in the car right now heading to Phoenix and far away from that snake. 

Marty has applied the rest of the Snake-Away, and assures me he needs to "pick up some more." I've pointed out Home Depot is open for another twelve minutes and what is he waiting for? 

I'd like to tell you I'm handling this like a calm, capable adult, but we'd both know I'm lying. 

Decompression

It seems my only life events worth speaking about are the fact I'm a published author (a life goal realized!) and Bonus Dad (a life worth knowing!). And given Bonus Dad is much more important than 260 pieces of paper, that's where I'll start. 

I spoke with Bonus Dad this morning. I told him with the amount of time he's spent in the hospital I was surprised they weren't charging him rent. He laughed at my joke. He's supposed to have surgery today or tomorrow. he wasn't sure. 

Bonus Dad has a few complications which have come to light from the heart attack. Hopefully the surgery today (or tomorrow--Bonus Dad was pretty hungry when we spoke, so either give the poor guy a meal or take care of this!) will remedy these issues. He's ready to go back to Phoenix. 

As for me, I'm still exhausted. It's Thursday and I have only left the house once in the past 36 hours and that was to grab a coffee for ailing Buckaroo. I'm reconsidering showing up at Corona Night tomorrow--which will set off a string of invitations, text messages and phone calls from fabulous and wonderful people I'm not ready to be around. 

Another Word About Francine

Because of where I live, even with the eye of the storm (now) expected to hit Louisiana, there is still residual rainfall and tornadoes my direction. Nobody explained this to me when I signed up to live in the Ark-La-Tex region.

According to some internet site, the rainfall is supposed to start Thursday morning in this part of the world. I guess Mother Nature didn't get the memo, because it is pouring outside right now. Protip: ANYTHING you might see or read about "Texas not being affected by Francine" is probably not true. 

Oh, it appears Francine won't be as strong as Beryl! That's good news for everyone.   

In Other News

Through sheer determination and the fact I hadn't noticed my phone hadn't reset to Central time, I was on the road yesterday much earlier than expected. That may have been Providence, because I missed Little Rock rush hour and made it home before dark. Incidentally, Little Rock is the largest city I drive through to get to and from nowhere Michigan because I'm hell-bent on not driving in Indianapolis. 

The family is under strict orders to tell nobody I'm back. I need a couple days to recover. However, on Monday I let it slip to Deb I'd be at Friday's Corona night. 

Bonus Dad had a scan yesterday and is having a procedure today. This has nothing to do with his heart attack. Two weeks ago today he went into the hospital. Because he will be tied up with all of the above, I'll call him in the morning. I'm figuring he will be tired today. Hopefully he can be transferred to a skilled nursing facility soon. When I talked to him Monday, he came to the conclusion that when he got back to Phoenix (next week??) he won't be living in his home for a while. I pointed out that getting older is a humbling way of letting others have a chance to love on him. 

Hurricane Francine is hanging out in the Gulf. And that's bad because it means she's potentially gathering power. Beryl was a category 5 when he* hit. I'm hoping this one is weaker. Francine is the reason I headed back--well, that and Icky (Bonus Dad's youngest) arrived ten days earlier than he expected to take over, and the reason I'd been called up to help became redundant. Anyway, with Francine making landfall today, I didn't want to be driving in the aftermath, because there is a swath of the United States which is going to be affected by the storm. Plus, Beryl spawned off 68 tornadoes in this area alone. I'm hoping Francine has better manners.  

Speaking of Francine, Polly is supposed to go to Galveston this weekend. Her plans are up in the air--depending upon where Francine makes landfall. 

 *Yep, hurricanes have pronouns. 

Paying A Debt

So, here I am... sitting in "my" chair in the sunporch at the 100 year old cottage on the lake. David, Bonus Dad's son, is working on the boat. Next to me is Bonus Dad's empty chair--which is totally wrong. Next to me should be Bonus Dad, reading his latest book and the two of us hanging out in comfortable silence. 

Bonus Dad has been in the hospital eleven days as of today. Thanks to modern medicine, his heart is getting stronger. However, another problem cropped up and that has caused him to hang out there longer instead of being transferred to a nursing facility. The hospital and (hopefully) soon-to-be nursing facility are 80+ miles from the cottage. My choices are free housing or driving a crap-ton. I'm choosing driving. 

I'm happy to be here. There is NO other place I want to be. Even with my book launch this week. Even though I'm recovering from my last trip here a couple weeks earlier. Even though I'm missing the very first Golden Quill Writer meeting. Even though... 

I'm here because David called me last week. He lives in Chicago and needs to go home to his family. He asked me to take over for him until his younger brother could arrive. At the time, Icky (a loving nickname, I assure you) wasn't coming until September 16. My "job" is to visit Bonus Dad daily, get updates and bring lunch. Normally not a fussy eater, the food at the hospital is so terrible, even Bonus Dad is grossed out. 

Because I've made myself unconcerned with the medical stuff and only want hang with Bonus Dad, I've enjoyed every moment of our visits. He opens up and just chats. Many of his stories I've heard before. Some I haven't. And I'm finding out I know a few private stories his sons do not. 

All that said, Icky opted to fly to Michigan sooner than later, so I am not as relevant as I was. However, until Bonus Dad is moved to the nursing facility (fingers crossed for no more medical setbacks), I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing. Also, Icky is staying close to town so when David leaves tomorrow I will have the cottage to myself. I'm packing up Bonus Dad's stuff and getting it ready for his eventual flight back to Phoenix. His car is being shipped back. I'm probably hanging out until the folks come and get the car. 

Thirty-seven years ago Bonus Mom and Dad took in a very broken me. Even though I was a stranger to them, they loved on me and helped me heal when they didn't have to. They voluntarily stayed in my life. They've been part of my children's lives. Bonus Mom's sudden death tore me apart. The only one who truly seemed to understand that was Bonus Dad, who recognized my emotional fissures forming from years earlier starting to crack and stood by me and loved on me all over again. It is my honor to be here, paying back this debt. 

A Package Went to my Wake Village Home Today

A little light reading for Luna while I'm out of town. :-) 

 

Life Update

Bonus Dad had a heart attack last week. He's been ICU for a week. 

I'm heading for Michigan in the a.m. Driving takes as long as flying, plus there's nobody to pick me up at the Saginaw Airport (2 hours from the cottage), so I might as well drive.

Asking for a very tired friend...

 What is the metric for recovery time from a vacation? Two days for every day gone maybe??? 

So This is Happening...

Coming in September. Date tbd (waiting for my author proof).  If you are the "like on Facebook" kind of person, would you please like Elaina's page. 

A discontented priest, searching for change.

A high-end call girl looking for a way out.

What could go wrong?

A Happy Place

I am in a 98 year old cottage in Nowhere Michigan. The cottage was built in stages, with the original building erected as a two-room hunting cottage. From there, someone thought to take the main bedroom and make it two bedrooms, add a kitchen and indoor bathroom. In the 1950s--I'm not making this up--the basement was added. I should also mention, one of the basement walls is caving in, but I try not to think about it. Also, and I try not to think about this too much either, Marty Sunshine and Bonus Dad once had to seal part of the basement to keep the bats from coming back inside. The sunporch was added in the 1960s. The first of two upstairs bedrooms was added a couple years later. In the 1970s, the dining room and a bedroom above it (making two bedrooms upstairs) were added. In the 1980s, a half-bathroom was added to the upstairs. If you aren't big into the idea of a Higher Power, the construction of this house might just make you reconsider. 

Polly is with me--her first time here. She's in sensory overload, taking in the environment and the people. Of note, she hadn't really gotten to know David, Bonus Dad's son before today (he lives in Chicago) and was quite nervous. However, David has loved on her like she's a long-lost niece and taken her under his wing, promising her a fishing trip, a chance to drive the boat and all sorts of yummy foods. They've bonded over recipes and their mutual appreciation for water. Tonight she gets ribs.

As for me, I'm sitting in the sun porch, next to Bonus Dad on one side of me and the window overlooking the lake on the other. I could stay like this for the next month and be perfectly happy. 

Here are a few water pictures this trip. 

My current view

Lake Huron

Lake Michigan