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| The cover concept includes a |
My manuscript is done! The Redeemed.
It's off for editing.
And then rewrites.
And then copy editing.
And then rewrites.
And then proofreading.
And then rewrites.
Want to know how long it takes an indie author to publish? I just booked my proofreader for March.
I'm spending August not writing (so far).
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| That red thing on the bottom of the window (outside) is a bird bath. |
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| Jesus is everywhere. He's about an inch and a half high. |
People who've just met will ask for classifications such as, "Are you part of the Ashdown (Arkansas) Johnsons?" or "Which church do you attend?" or "Where do you like to fish?"
On the Texas-Arkansas state line, the State of Arkansas, in their certifiable wisdom, is changing the Interstate 30 on-ramp with traffic lights and replacing it with--I'm not making this up--a traffic circle.
It had to be explained to someone in my presence that a Southern accent does not equal a lack of intelligence. I thought everyone knew that.
I was part of a group text this week asking if anyone had a "spare" half-bag of potting soil.
There's a bunch of tiny and rubberized Jesuses floating around, everywhere. I got mine from Deb, the Queen of the Coronas.
I've been at Bob's Quilt Shop four times in the past week. I've bought zero fabric in that time. FOUR TIMES. In fact, I'm currently not working on any sewing projects.
I might have accidentally made the sign of the cross during a prayer at a Baptist church recently.
I've come to the conclusion that if someone on Facebook calls you out for being, "rude," it's the biggest insult imaginable. And to call out a worker at a business for being, "rude" might get the company boycotted.
Overheard: "Why is your shower so high?" "Because my wife is tall."
Me: "Mr. Jerry passed away last month." Other person: "Are you sure?" (I sent a sympathy card, so yes, I'm sure.)
People quote Bible verses in normal conversation as evidence when argue their point--whether or not the verse applies. AND people defer to Scripture for the last say on topics--also whether or not the verse applies.
I was talking to a woman who told me picking figs is "harder than picking okra." (It isn't.)
People freely give canning recipes and directions with the same amount of authority. "Go past the Dollar General on Kings Highway--the one on the South, mind you..." and "Add just a bit of sugar--white, not brown, mind you."
Sometime in the next few days I guess I'm making fig preserves.
Saying, "be safe," or "take care," is how people around here say good-bye. It's the equivalent to, "you matter to me."
I don't care what anyone thinks. Sweet tea is just uncarbonated soda.
If one were to leave their car windows down for any length of time, they'd mostly find zucchini from someone's garden in the front seat and a colony of yellowjackets in the back seat.
*I'm in the middle of a ton of edits.
I truly believe we are called to serve.
This is a value I've instilled on my children. They've been known to drop everything, to feed a neighbor's chickens, rake a lawn or help a stranger carry groceries. During the lockdown, when my nephew Patrick stayed with us for days on end while his parents worked, both cousins jumped in without being prodded, engaging Patrick with activities. That's who my children are. To them, this is a part of regular life.
This past month, Buck has been heading over to a local game store and helping the owner. He's bartering some "game cards" (that's the best I can do) for help with a major project this small business owner doesn't have time to tackle. He's spent hours there helping this dude out. When I asked my son why he's taken this project on, he looked at me like I have six heads. Oh yeah... the guy needs help. Plus, "game cards"--duh--, which apparently have a lot of value. But knowing Buck, he and the guy hit it off and this is no big deal.
And let me just say, this does my heart good. I may have caused trauma and potential years of therapy in other aspects of my young adults' lives, but when it comes to serving, I'm just fine tooting my own horn.
We were initially invited by Corona Gail and Her Majesty, Deb, as a way (in my estimation) to cement Marty as a member of the Church of Christ. It hasn't worked. But we're in. So, there's that. We've been part of this group for about eighteen months. I enjoy these visitsi. [=8???????????????
ik./g;]7\
(Thank you Leon, for yo]ur help typing)}.]
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Leon is now on my shoulder and batting my hair.
Where was I? Oh yes, our life group. There are about twenty of us. I very much enjoy these afternoons. Marty comes and sits in the corner more or less--but I've noticed he's becoming more social, which is strange because between the two of us, he's the extrovert.
Anyway, in our life group, there's a real estate broker and his wife. The Mister and I talk shop on occasion. His wife has been battling ovarian cancer. This sweet woman is about my age. She has a wonderful outlook on life and a perpetual smile on her face.
Ovarian cancer is one of those cancers which doesn't have a cure. It has a pause. And then it doesn't. Unfortunately, last I heard, her pause is over. At this time, the family is asking for privacy and the word, "hospice" is being bandied about.
What I'm discovering is this is hitting Marty hard.
Do I have a dress for a hypothetical future funeral? How will boss react* about him taking time off for a hypothetical funeral? Let's plan on bringing the Mister a meal or two after his wife passes. No! Let's make sure we take him out for a beer once in a while. --All of this is from Marty.
My friend's cancer has been on my mind too. Dying is always tougher on the living I think. Anyway, today I went to Amazon and bought a black dress because it turns out I don't have one any more. Hopefully the first time I have a chance to wear it, it will be for a happy occasion--like a cocktail party or party and not for a hypothetical funeral. And perhaps my friend will have another pause and we'll be able to laugh with her and her husband some Sunday afternoon during our life group.
*There will come a time when I will write in greater depth about Mary's boss. She is a work-a-holic who doesn't believe anything less than a 50 hour week is acceptable and vacations mean "being allowed" to leave the office, but take one's laptop with them and log in for at least three hours a day (which happened on our vacation).
Please file this under, "things that make you say, 'huh?'." *
Most of the teens around here are respectful and rarely does some kid's poor choices make the local rounds. Correlation? Coincidence? Random occurrence and I'm trying to extract causality? Yeah... probably that one.
There are two high schools in Texarkana Texas (plus a handful of others in the outskirts). Of the two high schools:
Texas High School (Texarkana, TX) is ranked 3rd in Class 5A division for the entire state. (250 5A schools)
Pleasant Grove High School (Texarkana, TX) is ranked 5th in Class 4A division for the entire state. (218 4A schools)
*Because I felt a need for a deeper dive, in comparison, Arizona has 29 5A high schools and 51 4A high schools. One can fit 4.35 Arizonas into Texas.
Doc P was awesome. But even a three day IV drip didn't exactly bring her back. When she returned from the hospital, I'd hide her appetite stimulation pills and medication in hot dogs and spam and she would turn up her nose. I even resorted to lifting her on to our bed--her favorite sleeping place where she could lay in a sunbeam. Among the Sunshine clan, we whispered among ourselves. Was she in pain? Was she suffering?
And then last week, Leon was playing with her blue bone--one of Luna's favorite toys and the one she earned in obedience school in Mesa. I watched as, much to Leon's astonishment, Luna marched up to her and snatched it away. Luna then walked to her food bowl, sniffed the kibble and ate a couple of morsels. Figuring this was a good sign, I put together a smorgasbord of Luna-centric flavors, chicken, spam, sweet potatoes, canned fish and mixed it with the kibble. Luna ate it all! She then went outside and barked with Ace and Bobo. Afterwards, she took a very long nap. But the switch had been flipped!
Every day we are seeing more life in our dog. We still have a long way to go before we see a 100 percent healthy Luna. She still needs the appetite pill. She still has bladder issues here and there. She's showing signs of playfulness. She greets the Amazon driver. She's patient (mostly) with the Overlords. Her ribs aren't showing. My dog food grocery bill is skyrocketing.
And we are all pleased to have our Puppers back.
Sydney Jean, my 2014 Toyota Rav 4, has about 1,400 more miles before she rolls over to 100,000 miles. I set this up asking the family to place their bets. The winner gets the coffee or iced tea drink of their choice from a local haunt.
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| The one ravaged survivor |
Then I took my three tomato plants home and followed the directions. Keep in total darkness for three days. Day four repot into a bigger container, add soil and fertilizer. Because it's been over 90 degrees, keep them inside instead of in a greenhouse. You know, treat them like the fragile babies they are.
After 10 days the plants can go live in the garden as free range tomato plants.
After 60 days harvest and eat all the tomatoes my heart desires.
My heart desires a lot of tomatoes.
All of that is well and good, but I didn't factor one teensy, tiny issue. The Overlords.
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| My nephew, Patrick, hanging out with the Fouke Monster |
Last week I mentioned that I'm of the mind that there's a six degrees of separation from anyone in Texarkana and Fouke. Incidentally, my hair stylist, Deb, the Queen of the Coronas, Corona Leah and Val my sewing friend are all from Fouke and--I'm not making this up--they are all related somehow.
Anyway, here's a quick video about Fouke (less than a minute). I don't know this dude, but I'd bet money I know someone who does. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/hPgqzEfBoHA
*All the liquor stores in Western Arkansas have wildly crazy prices because they can. One cannot buy anything other than Budweiser/Coors/Miller beers or wines in Bowie county. Want to make a margarita, you gotta buy your tequila somewhere.
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| He smiles when he sleeps. |
The kitten is also extremely patient with his brother. Every couple of hours, Leon will jump on Roosevelt and start biting him. Roosevelt, when tired of Leon's antics will give him a thwack, generally stopping the fight by using less energy and a lot more power.
For as calm as Roosevelt is, he's also the most adventurous of the duo. He looks at the outside with such wanderlust that I half-suspect there's an owl/fox/snake/hawk looking at him through the backyard storm door, licking it's lips, just waiting for him to escape. He likes to be up high and has managed to climb the walls like a parkour athlete. But, his favorite place to climb is onto my thigh while I'm typing, always surprising me and always--ALWAYS--using his claws.
I've just renamed one of the Overlords. His new name: Leondontbeamoron Stopthat!
He's still cute. And he's still the mama's boy between the two and has me wrapped around his little tail.
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| Thugs |
*I know it was him because he brought me the only remaining inch left of his kill and proof of his affection for me.
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| My gift to Gail |
Yesterday the majority of the Coronas met Gail at the lobby of the local Walk Ons restaurant, with walker, tiara and sash. After making her walk the length of the restaurant with the walker we sat in our highly decorated room and said all sorts of loving things like, "35 was half your life ago." and "Do you remember us?" and "How many of your original teeth do you still have?" and (to the server) "Can we get our friend a bib?"
There was a lot of laughing and a great amount of ribbing for poor Gail, who took the entire thing in stride. The gifts were somewhat 70 years old centric and Gail promised us she'd be showing them off to her sister--who happens to be four years older and tells her life begins at 70. To be honest, Gail, Deb and Tessa make 70 look youthful.
As we were parting, Gail said a lot of sentimental things including, "I've never had a group of girlfriends like you ladies." I'm pretty sure none of us have.
During my morning walk yesterday, someone said to me, "Happy Fourth of July." I automatically responded with "Happy Independence Day" because THAT IS WHAT IT IS! And then I felt like a jerk. I wasn't correcting the woman, I was just giving my knee-jerk reply--but it might have sounded a bit pious. Oops.
Independence Day is a big deal in these parts. I passed on the Corona Fireworks Party(TM) last night because I was obligated somewhere else. And if I skipped both events, there were about 7 others I could have found without much effort. Most folks decorated their interior and exterior of their homes. We just did the exterior and it was low key compared to the other homes in Wake Village.
And let me just say, The Texarkana Chorale's concert was outstanding, and not just because the Soprano 1s are always amazing. This concert just rocked! As part of the concert, the Chorale sang every military flight song, and the Veterans of each branch stood so they could be acknowledged. Of note, the Vietnam-era Marines (which comprised most of the Vets in the room) stood at attention and sang along to the Marine's Hymn. By the way, did you know "Taps" (which is really called Blades of Grass and Pure White Stones) has lyrics? Now you do and now I do.
Taps will always bring me to tears. Attend a military funeral and see if you aren't moved every time you hear it from then on. I dare you.
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| 7.13 Miles as the Crow Flies. |
"Yes. Where are you going?" I asked because folks in this part of the world don't mind their business and well, when in Rome the South...
"The Hilton Garden." The guy replied.
Without thinking, the following tumbled out of my mouth: "We are heading that way, can we give you a lift?" At the time I had no idea where the Hilton Garden was (I know now), but I knew there's less than eight miles between the airport on the East side of Texarkana and Wake Village on the West side of Texarkana, so how far out of the way could the Hilton Garden be?
The surprised man declined my offer but we continued chatting for a moment longer.
When Marty found me, I introduced the two and said good-bye to my new friend. Marty promptly offered him a ride--which the guy also declined.
Hopefully the man just considered us the Southern Hospitality Welcome Wagon and not creepy weirdos.
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| Somewhere in Pinal County |
For the record, I hate flying through DFW. Speaking of records, I think I now hold the record of making it from Terminal A to terminal B in and to my gate in 12 minutes--of which 7 of those minutes I was on the tram. Thank you again, American Airlines for changing my flight without permission and giving me so little time to catch my connection, but more importantly, being so committed to my fitness.
One more tiny thing: happy belated birthday Freedom. I'll call you next week.
Found on the Texarkana FB's site. The man had been pulled over for speeding*. He explained to the officer he was having a "bad day" and was on his way to a funeral. He then commented he couldn't even get his tie tied.
So, this happened.
*The article didn't state if the guy still got a speeding ticket. I will tell you, around here, on any given Sunday morning, if a police officer pulls someone over and the motorist says they are late for church, there's a good chance the driver will get off with warning.
I'm Arizona bound tomorrow--provided my flight takes off at 6 a.m. Otherwise, I'm making a mad-dash to Dallas to catch my 8:30 a.m. flight to Phoenix because, American Airlines changed my flight and "helped" me by giving me an earlier flight. I originally had a 10 a.m. flight which would have been a great continency if the Texarkana flight is nixed. Crossing my fingers and toes this flight isn't cancelled.
And don't even get me started about how American Airlines "helped" me by changing my flight home by giving me 30 minutes to go from terminal A to terminal B at DFW to catch the last flight of the day back to Texarkana.
This trip has been nine months in the making. Bliz, Pammy and Bucky and I are staying at an AirBNB in Tucson where we hang out by the pool and sip adult beverages for three days. We are doing this in Arizona because Bliz was already using her vacation to Dad-sit while her mother is gone for a spell, so she was already in the state. Next time I'm holding out for Maine, Greenland or the Southern Hemisphere--anywhere cooler than Arizona.
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| A lovely and large hospital in Texarkana where Buckaroo works on Tuesdays. |
I'll wait here while you read that again, scratch your head and process what I wrote. Take your time.
Here's the funner parts of the above paragraph: health insurance companies won't let folks change policies outside of "open enrollment"--which happens to be around November. Therefore, we are stuck with Blue Cross Blue Shield of Texas for our health insurance.
We can also change insurance next April and be added on to Marty's garbage perfectlywonderfulandhowcouldIhavethoughtanythingotherwise? health insurance when his company has their own open enrollment.
And the funnest part: the only insurance the local hospital (and its affiliate services and doctors) will take--other than Marty's health insurance happens to the hospital's own in-house insurance (available in November!). Guess what? The price of their own in-house insurance just went through the roof.
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Luna is home from the hospital. Marty, Polly and Buck all got happy greetings. The Overlords crept in and stared to see if they were welcome. When Luna didn't growl, Roosevelt gave her a nose-boop-hello. Leon (our resident thug) carried away one of Luna's prized toys and didn't look back.
Luna still isn't speaking to me for abandoning her. Her health is sorta better, but it is relative. Last Sunday night I wasn't holding out much hope. I'm more hopeful right now but right now Luna will eat a few ounces for Polly, and only Polly.
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This past week--and I swear I'm not making this up--I went hunting for the airport. Why? Because the City of Texarkana (Arkansas) moved it. I'm glad I went searching, because next week my flight leaves at 6 a.m. and given one now has to drive two miles down some winding country road, I might have missed it. I hear TSA at the Texarkana airport is still ultra-militant and it doesn't matter if I have a Known Traveler Number. TSA Texarkana Arkansas doesn't honor it. Plus, everyone checks their carry-on for the first leg of this flight. I'm curious to find out if the new airport has a jetway or if the airport is still using the metal staircase in homage to 1954.
Oh yeah... next week I'm heading to Arizona.
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| Too sick to lift her head. |
Right???
I think Marty is more worried about me than her. The Overlords are looking around everywhere for her. They are so unnerved by the change in scenery, that they aren't even willing to steal her toys right now.
Doc. P. said I can call "any time" but I doubt he means it. He also said I could stop by if I needed to, but cautioned it would be harder on Luna if I did--especially if she wasn't ready to go home.
When I checked yesterday afternoon, she still hadn't eaten anything. Doc is supposed to "reevaluate" her this morning and will give me an update when I call at exactly 8 a.m. for an update.
I'm home from my first June vacation--a bittersweet time with Marty and extended family. Yesterday, Marty and I drove through multiple thunderstorms in six states during our eight hour travel, coming home to what Buck and Polly swore was a "clean house." It probably was and I just missed it. We also came home to kittens who have doubled in size but have some unfortunate (but curable) issue that now needs to be addressed by the vet. And, we came home to an ailing Luna, who is only worse for wear. Polly had taken her to the vet last week where she found out Luna had lost 5 pounds in two weeks.
Our travels took us to the East coast of Florida, where we hung out for a few days. We then went to our old stomping grounds, the West side of Florida where we visited Marty's Uncle Sunshine, who though near 80, is still one of the most positive and dynamic people I've ever met. And as much as I loved seeing my brothers, I doubly loved visiting with Uncle Sunshine.
One of the great (or icky--you decide) aspects about driving is the amount of conversation possible. I'm not gonna lie, I had a few talking points chambered for Marty and I managed to get most of them from we left Texas and finish before we made it to Alabama. Marty and I have a few changes we are implementing. It's long-term plan and requires a lot of moving parts, but the outcome is promising and I recognize necessary and best for the Sunshine family. Sadly, part of that plan means I might giving up a few things, but I'll be okay. More on that when there's more to share.
It turns out I'm at that age where I take pictures of birds when I'm on vacation. I'll spare you and only post two.
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| For the record, that is not an owl. That's an Anhinga. |
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| A pelican hanging out on Matlacha Island |
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| My little brothers at a nature preserve somewhere in Palm Beach County Florida. |
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| The view from the Airbnb on Matlacha Island |
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| Buckaroo, 14 years ago |
This is on top of his "real" job at Lowes--which he more or less hates but it pays well. At Lowe's he works in the garden department. It is typical that I will get a call at least twice a week while he's working asking something about plants. "Mom, I have a customer here who wants to know about potting soil." or "What's the best fertilizer you recommend for tomatoes?" Lowes would like Buck to work full time. Buck's bound and determined to pass EMT school so he can get away from Lowes.
He's got such a great reputation in town for being industrious, that past week, Bob who owns the local quilt shop needed help setting up shelves and asked Buck to come over and take care of it. Sometimes Tessa the Realtor has odd jobs for him, like would he sit open a building going up for auction in a questionable part of town for a few hours? Or is Buck willing to clean out some big debris at a vacant home and take it all over to the dump?
In addition to his working, he's raising the two kittens in our home. One of the kittens, Leon, came to us a bit feral. Buck is doing his level best to civilize this guy. Given Leon is currently curled up sleeping on my shoulder as I'm typing this, AND purring--that's a new activity for this cat--I think Buck is doing a pretty good job.
Actually, I think Buck is doing a pretty good job at life in general.
*Okay, I'm not supposed to talk about my young adults on this blog, but whatever. They don't read it and probably won't until I'm dead--and probably not even then.
It isn't the first time I've heard a similar story lately. The other one was in Texarkana, and the woman was sitting in her recliner, reaching out to folks on FB because she was too terrified to move and wanted someone to come over right then and there and remove the critter. A stranger came to her rescue.
My father-in-law was sent home with directions to see his primary care physician--advice he may or may not follow. But for now he's hanging on and plans on doing life his way.
Marty and I are back on track for vacay later this week. I even went so far as to book a hotel for our first stay. I haven't packed yet... Perhaps that will come after my Adulting Reprieve is over.
I've been up since 2 a.m. sitting with Luna, who just wants pets and rest. The kittens Overlords see it differently and have been doing their best to cheer her up all night. They even gave back one of their hostages Luna's toys.
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| Don't let the lack of movement fool you. Thugs and the Clawsfather are in a short regroup before their next adventure. |
We've been having a few hiccups around the o'le Sunshine place.
Luna is ill and I'm afraid her best days are behind her. Doc P gave her some meds, but she can't keep them down. Right now we are on a watch and see regimen. She sleeps most of the time. She drinks a little milk and hangs with me. About 237 times a day, the kittens bounce in, bring her greetings and joy and drag out whatever Luna toys they can carry when they leave. Most of Luna's toys are bigger than them.
My father-in-law was rushed to the ER this morning. He's 89. I don't have further news. Marty and I are slated to go on vacation to another part of the country later this week, but instead, we might be going back to Arizona.
Polly asked me this morning what to do if Luna takes a turn for the worse while we are (hopefully) on vacation. She already knew the answer, but was looking for a way out of that kind of hard decision.
This past Saturday, I drove 56 miles of back country roads to Daingerfield Texas. Daingerfield consists of a Dollar General, an EZ Mart gas station and Greer Farm, the u-pick blackberry and blueberry farm. As a public service, y'all need to know: if one follows GPS , they aren't going to end up at Greer Farm.
Trust me on this one. This is where the GPS took me.
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| Not Greer Farm |
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| Greer Farm |
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| More Greer Farm |
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| Full disclosure: I sampled a lot of blackberries. |
Last summer Polly and I stumbled upon the Longview Arboretum. It happened to be closed that day, but the Powers That Be let us in* and invited us to wander around those beautiful gardens at our leisure. Two hours later, a very hangry Polly drug me out out of that green wonderland with threats to pick the ickiest nursing home she could find when the time came if I didn't leave right then. I've always wanted to go back.
This coming Thursday, the Master Gardeners are planning a field trip to the Longview Arboretum (90ish miles).
And though I'm usually up for an adventure, I'm digging in my heels. You see, someone in the Master Gardener group decided to throw a side trip first. After all, if we are already going to Longview, why not stop by Mount Pleasant and see someone's garden there too? And that would make sense if Mount Pleasant was anywhere along the route to Longview. But, in this case, it is driving 70 miles out of our way to then drive another100 miles. ** |
| Wake Village to Longview. All forest roads. |
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| Wake Village to Mount Pleasant and then to Longview. Don't let I-30 fool you. It's 1 lane, and under construction for the next 15 months. |
My pal Joy and I decided not to go for tea or lunch today. Instead, we walked around the plant nursery as our social event. She said she would only buy what she could carry.
Joy's never been a mother.
I carried my lilies and her peppers and her hibiscus and a few other pots while she speed dated several other flowers she couldn't live without.
The reason I was prudent today is I found a porch swing I think I absolutely have to have. Perhaps Marty and I will go back over this weekend and pick it up.
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| Okay, I did buy this. Look at that color! |
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| A small potion of the poison ivy growing along my back fence. There's enough oil to contaminate East Texas. |
Last week I got a text from Corona Gail. "Let's have lunch today. Meet Deb and me?" You see, Lunch Bunch was cancelled that day. However, Corona Gail and Deb, the Queen of the Coronas were hungry. They thought to include me. Just me. Not 25 other people we all know.
Just me. That isn't a humble brag. It is a floored realization someone thought enough to invite me to lunch.
I process this often. Each time I'm overwhelmed in an abundance of gratitude.
After living in the same place for 50+ years and then starting over, I never take for granted these kinds of invitations. The invite from Krissy for a Girl's Trip to Branson and another from Deb to tag along to Little Rock for the day. The plants dropped off on my doorstep from Master Gardener pals. A local writer sending me a sample from his book and asking for my opinion. Calls, texts and follow-ups from those who heard I'd been battling some sort of weird fatigue/infection (I'm better now). Even a simple last-minute invite for tea makes my heart swell.
But it isn't just the folks I met here. This entire experience intensifies how much I cherish the friends I left back in Arizona. I don't think a day goes by where I don't have flash memories of homeschool park days, meeting up for tea or lunch, hiking, chatting with a Bonus kid's mom, great real estate clients, and other moments with the ones who helped shaped me and loved me first. Moving here has given me a deeper appreciation for those I left behind.
Here's the ugly truth: Though Texarkana was 100 percent Marty's idea--he was raving about this place as early as 2014--he doesn't like it here. I doubt, long-term, we are staying. This isn't the same kind of wanderlust we had when we were in Arizona and wanted out. I'm resigned to this fact and I won't talk him out of it. It's okay. There are legitimate reasons to leave--though it will break my heart to do so.
A future move isn't happening today, tomorrow or next year, but I know it is on the docket when he retires. What I've discovered with this bit of knowledge I don't share beyond my family and this blog, is that invitations like Gail's last week are so much sweeter, knowing there may come a time when I'm going to have to start over again and navigate through new relationships again. I don't take these invitations for granted and I'm beyond grateful to be included.
A bit of humor for y'all.
I've been under the weather this week. I missed Friday's Corona Night. When I texted Her Majesty the Queen of Everything Texarkana (Deb), telling her I wouldn't be there, she told me she'd been under the weather too and considered cancelling the entire festivities.
Additionally, last Thursday, the two of us, had lunch with Corona Gail, who is now also a bit peaky. Corona Shelly and Corona Leah are also a little sick. I saw Corona Leah on Wednesday. Gail saw Shelly earlier in the week.
I pointed out to Deb we are spreading a new (ahem) Corona Virus.
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| I had to bring over a desk, but no biggie. It worked out well. |
You see, for weeks I was trying to finish my manuscript. Every time I'd catch the creative flow, interruptions happened. Though my loving family means well, my patience was on the edge when a few Saturdays ago, a family member came in for the seventh time, just to ask me if I'd seen the blue sock, or did I know we were out of milk, or what time was something going on downtown next week. At that point, Marty suggested if I truly wanted to finish the story, why not just run away from home. So I did. I moved three miles from our house to an AirBnB.
What do you know?! For the first time in months, I didn't have Luna alerting me that her best pal, the Amazon driver, is on Arizona Avenue. Wait! The driver didn't stop. Why??!!!! Wait! Do you hear that? The driver is back. Wait! They drove by again without saying hello! The closed bedroom door only accelerated the challenge. Luna wants out. Luna wants in. Luna wants out. Wait! There's a squirrel! DID YOU SEE THE SQUIRREL!!??? To be fair, if the young adults are home, they often take her (after flopping on the bed and chatting with me for several minutes--unaware I'm typing and just nodding).
Or, "Hey Mom, Dad tried calling you a million times but your phone is off. So, he called me. He needs you to call him asap." (Me calling Marty only to find he figured out the password to our internet provider's web site on his own--because he originally set it up). Or... I can keep my phone on and have 387 text messages from well-meaning folk who feel the need to "like" every post on the text thread about what to bring to Deb's prayer group meeting three weeks from now. (Bonny: "I'll bring lettuce." Six others: adding a thumb's up or heart emoji to Bonny's text).
In the three days I was gone, I typed more than 20,000 words. I like this story much better than my last one. I like these characters better. This one is a mystery--which means the story telling is layered differently than a simple boy-meets-girl romance. My ending did not turn out the way I expected it to, but I like it better too.
My manuscript is finished. It is now brewing on my computer drive, waiting for me to start the edits--in a few weeks, thank you very much. In the meantime, I'm building a quilt and playing with plants.
I've been under the weather this week. It didn't really slow me down until yesterday afternoon.
Today I talked to a friend who innocently asked how the garden was doing. The tomatoes are great--I only have 90 zillion tomato plants. The spinach and lettuce are also thriving. My pepper plants are growing. The cucumbers are flowering. And I discovered something is eating my radishes and strawberries--which are at different parts of the yard.
Unfortunately, the okra is also growing. Lucky Marty.
Later, Luna sat in front of the storm door, crying to go outside. I saw what she was alerting to: a brindle-color cottontail. As much as I would love to have let her out to chase the bunny and bring honor to my strawberries, I didn't want to finagle a mangled rabbit out of her jaws. So, the bunny left on its own and Luna pouted.
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| The veg garden surrounds the green house. Most everything is in early stages. |
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| Bottom right is 8 more tomato plants, top right is okra, top left is strawberries. The bottom left was supposed to be nothing. I was going to empty that plot and start over. However potatoes which did not grow last year are now cropping up. So, I guess it's a potato patch. _________________________ My bathroom has a garden tub. Between Polly and myself, I think we've used it three times. I have too much sewing stuff. Last March, while in Arizona, I borrowed my brother's jig saw with the intention of making this storage space. This past weekend, I made this. Fortunately, we are all meeting up in Florida next month. I'll give the saw back to him then. |
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| There's about 687 pounds of fabric and notions in plastic Dollar General bins under that wood. Eventually, there will be plants atop of that wood. _________________________ |
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| For the record, this is Buckaroo's desk. They were napping while he was at work. |
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| I moved them from the desk. Roosevelt's neck is fine. His brother (Leon) doesn't weigh enough to pin him down. |
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| Leon |
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| Roosevelt |
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| Luna also got a "big sister" toy today--a new is lovingly and proudly carrying around. |
This past week, I got together with several ladies to build beds. The ministry, Beds for Kids, is run by a pretty awesome couple. Their mission is to bring beds and bedding to local foster care kids. For my Lunch Bunch birthday this year, I asked for donations to this group instead of presents. I'm told five children got new bedding, complete with comforters, with the money given from these ladies.
Anyway, we spent a few hours in a warehouse drilling, sanding and nailing. We made 10 beds. Here's two of the results.
I just reordered checks. Why? Because the 21st century hasn't caught up to some places around here.
The City of Wake Village needs a check for the water bill. My bill arrives sometime between the first and the seventh of the month. The water bill is due by the tenth--no excuses. The City of Wake Village refuses to allow for payment via their web site. If I have a check sent from the bank, it will arrive late and then there's a $50 fee they add to my $50 water bill--okay, the bill is only $50 in the winter. Still! It's a nice little racket the city has going.
My lawn guy only takes checks or a cash app (I don't "cashap"). He does not want a check sent from my bank either. He wants payment the day of service.
Bowie County will take a check for the property taxes. Or, I can pay a $50 service fee to have them take the money from my debit card.
By the way, I'm paying property taxes today. I have two checks left. One for Bowie County and one for the City of Wake Village.
Recently, my Master Gardener pals Maria and Joy (The same Joy who was the first person I got to know three years ago--she's now a Master Gardener), took a trip to Shreveport to check out their rose garden. Warning! Get three plant nerds together and prepare to have your eyes glaze over.
The place was wonderful and displayed several kinds of roses. We meandered the trails oohing and ahhing, snapping pictures, identifying different roses on our plant apps, while inhaling the fragrance. Every once in a while one of us would point out something like the color or petal variation while the other two stood around fascinated. Now then, I'm not saying that while standing next to the Ragosa rose, someone knelt down, dug her hands into the Earth and pulled out a teensy runner from the root and ordered me to open my purse so she could take it home. But it could have happened.
The Shreveport rose garden--it has an official name, I'm sure--also has an herb garden run by the Arklatex Herb Society. It just so happens the President of the Arklatex Herb Society happened to be there weeding and planting in their patch of goodness. So the three of us snacked on various kinds of mint, cilantro, sage, dill, oregano, more mint, and basil while chatting with the nice lady about herbs. Plant nerds do such things. Now then, I'm not saying there was a stack of cilantro pulled out by the roots ready to be composted, but if there was, it is quite likely we grabbed several, rushed into the restroom, covered the roots in wet paper towels and took those plants home with us.
Afterwards, the three of us vainly attempted to find an authentic Mexican restaurant. In Shreveport, Louisiana. Yes. Really.
Given Maria is from Mexico and Joy and I are from Phoenix, we settled for Louisiana's gallant attempt at South of the Mason-Dixon line flavors instead. I had something with chicken smothered in Velveeta--which is not what the menu described, but whatever. I knew better than to order anything other than water.
I took about 987 pictures. Here's four of them.
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| This is a Cosmo Cloud, the most fragrant of the fragrant roses I've ever smelled. Oh my! |
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| I'm going to find an Evergreen rose bush, and then locate somewhere in my garden to put one. |
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| I'd like to point out, this rose bush has three different color roses. On the same bush! Squee! We were freakishly giddy over this discovery (as well as every other rose garden discovery). |
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| Joy, smelling a rose. |
