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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
