The Shreveport Rose Garden

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. 

This is a Cosmo Cloud, the most fragrant of the fragrant roses I've ever smelled. 
Oh my!

I'm going to find an Evergreen rose bush, and then locate
somewhere in my garden to put one. 

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).

Joy, smelling a rose. 

Birthday Month

The portulaca Corona Gillian gave me. 

Lots of wonderful folks in these parts helped me remember I had a birthday this month. 

A few weeks ago, Corona Gillian accidentally spilled that Deb, the Queen of the Coronas, was throwing a surprise party for me. Bless them both and thank you Gillian for the fair warning. The Coronas are such a wonderful group of women. They are all so thoughtful, loving and kind. Most of the time I wonder why they put up with me, while also wondering when they are going to figure out what a fraud I truly am. I'm ashamed to admit my gifts are still stacked beside my desk, awaiting thank you notes. I'm promising myself they WILL be written today!!!! 

In addition to my surprise party, the coordinator of the Thursday Lunch Bunch insists on celebrating everyone's birthday. And because she's a Corona, she knew I'd recently made it another year around the sun. Honestly, I didn't want the fuss--plus I was hip-deep in typing and stopping, getting dressed, leaving the house and eating tends to be an inconvenience. But Corona Jenny insisted I pick a restaurant and tell her my favorite flavor of cupcake. I picked a pizza joint and I don't care for cake much, so any flavor worked because I wasn't eating it anyway. 

One of my stipulations for my Lunch Bunch birthday was no gifts. But I know this crew: that wasn't going to be an option. So, I asked for donations for a foster care charity run by the Church of Christ. That idea turned out to be a winner! I raised $180. A couple of days ago I got a nice note from the man who runs the charity, thanking me and telling me how the money was used. Squee! Win-win. I suspect more Lunch Bunch folks are going to do this in the future. 

There were other celebrations as well. My family loved all over me  and gave me a few more absolutely necessary garden whirly-gigs. Polly made a delicious blueberry coffee cake (not the same as the Lunch Bunch Wal-Mart cupcakes). Friends and brothers called from other parts of the country. And I am officially birthdayed out for another year. 

Book Update

A writer's friend: compression gloves. 
I own several pairs. 

Other than playing with plants--I do that a lot--I've spent quite a bit of time writing staring at my computer screen. Not fair. About two chapters a week flow out of my fingers when my hand isn't too swollen. 

After careful discernment, I've opted to go a different direction with the editor I originally hired. My gut screamed she wasn't the right fit for this story. Two weeks ago, I wrote her asking if she'd be willing to take on a different role in this project. I outlined exactly what I'd like. Incidentally, it would have been less work and the same money. However, I haven't heard back. That alone tells me I made the right choice.

It's really too bad, because I think she was the right fit for my young adult novel (already completed) and another story I'm working on that is more secular. When I met with her earlier this month, I suspected the idea of my main character offended her. He's a priest. That's his value system (just like if my main character were a vampire, he'd do vampiry things based on his value system). This book won't have the same religious undertones as the last one, but my main character is still a priest. 

By the way, I recently discovered Tylenol Arthritis. Pop two of those bad boys, rub CBD ointment all over my hands and I'm good to go for about 2,000 words. I'm got about six chapters left to write before I need to start figuring out the editing process. So, here's hoping a solution falls in my lap. 

Writer's Blockage

It is 3:23 a.m. Luna has taken my spot on the bed. Again. That's okay. I was awake. I'm probably not going to sleep well-ish until I'm done with my latest project. 

My current goal is to finish my manuscript by next Wednesday. Head out of town, read and review it when I get back, and give it to my editor by our prescribed deadline. However, as it was once pointed out to me, no battleplan outlives the enemy. 

In addition to a needy dog, I have other humans in my home who like me enough to demand my time. My mom has some significant drama which requires a bit of attention and sympathy. I have a garden to finish up--and let me just say this, SQUEE! It's looking better. Also, I have an out of town trip tomorrow, something I planned a month ago. I'm leading it. So, yeah... I guess it's happening. And, its Birthday Month(TM), and people are insisting I act the part. 

However, biggest challenge happens to be I'm not great company even for myself. I'm writing about a dark and vile subject. And if I can be so bold, something which hit too close to home recently. (I was writing about it before I found out it hit our home.) Every ugly chapter where I have to write more about the villains spirals me further into an emotional abyss. Yesterday I wanted to take a Lysol shower. 

All for art, right? 

This Month's Electric Bill

 Behold! 

Hotel Crazy-fornia

Sing with me now: "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave..." 

For the third... maybe fourth... time I'm back on the Ladies Auxiliary text thread. And for the third... maybe fourth... time I sent a note to the president, explaining that though I love these opportunity to pray for y'all--thank you for that--I haven't been part of this group in more than a year and a half. Therefore, would someone kindly remove me (again) from this text thread. I don't need an additional 37 group texts every hour. I already ignore 67 group texts an hour from people I'm involved with.

Here's a Glimpse into Introvert Hell.

I got a wedding invitation in the mail today for two people I do not know. When I say, I do not know, I mean just that. This cute couple had their pictures plastered all over this invite. I've never seen them before. I don't recognize their names. We aren't Facebook friends. I'm not Facebook friends with anyone in their families--I checked. 

The location (Surprise! Church of Christ), date and time were on the invite. But there is no phone number or way to RSVP. 

What's a girl to do? Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm busy that day. 

Probably. 

Maybe. 

I'm not asking Deb, the Queen of the Coronas, or anyone else affiliated with the Church of Christ about this, because I'm willing to bet they got an invite, are attending AND did I mention I'm probably, maybe,  busy that day? 

This is Why I'm Awake

Sound Asleep

Around 2 a.m., I felt a presence nearby. I opened my eyes to see a figure hovering over me. I did what a normal, sane person would do under the circumstances. I screamed. 

At which point, Luna, who has the emotional maturity of a hungry and sleep-deprived toddler, jumped down from the bed, crying, running in circles, while looking for the closest toy she could find to bring her comfort. 

I opted to appease the dog instead closing my eyes again. So, I went to her, trying to soothe her. After all, as far as she was concerned, I'm the one who scared her. And the fastest way to get her not to wake up the remaining residents of East Texas was to appease her. 

And you know what the dog did then? She jumped in my spot, spread her weight so she was impossible to move and went to sleep. 

Book Club

After two years of book club, I finally drew the short straw and had to host. Hosting itself isn't difficult. We meet at the Church of Christ building. I know how to go to Walmart and purchase snacks. I can send out a friendly reminder, "Hey y'all show up." 

However, the book I ended up with, for reasons which are too long and complicated for this patch of cyber space, happened to be a Vietnam War-era novel. The Women was a fascinating read. However the majority of the ladies in this book club are all ten years or more older than me and lived through the Vietnam War in a way I didn't.

In addition to the anxiety of having to discuss a hot-topic with folks who have emotional attachments I don't have, my biggest ally, Corona Gail--WHO ORIGINALLY GOT ME INTO THE BOOK CLUB--wasn't planning on coming. No matter what I said or offered as a bribe, she wasn't willing to change her plans for a trip out of town with her husband just so she could spend two hours chatting about this book. "But..." I said, my eyes bulging as I stomped my feet. Gail patted my shoulder and gave me a big sister, "You got this." "NO I DON'T!" I wailed. 

Fortunately, Corona Joan heard the exchange, popped her head up and said, "Book club? What book club?" And then, with five days to go, Joan read all 470 pages and showed up as my emotional support human. 

However, Joan is younger than I am, so, there's that.*

Back to book club. Normally we socialize and eat snacks until there's a pause in the conversation. Then, the hostess says something like, "Who all read the book?" From there, the hostess has a list of questions pertaining to the book and our particular thoughts. There are even a few hostesses--doing their everyday disciple best--to relate how our how, as Christians, we identified to the story. (But there's only a few.)

With the advice from my awesome Arizona friend, I started this week's meeting with this statement: I was completely unqualified to lead the discussion. I explained I didn't know the Vietnam War existed in my lifetime until I was around 12. My generation was never taught anything about it in history classes. I asked for each member to share their experiences of living through that time and compare it to how they felt the author handled the main character's journey. Though I had pre-planned questions, they felt trite compared to hearing about the woman whose husband was a fighter pilot. His time was up in 1965. He opted not to reenlist. However, he went to San Diego two years later and found out several members of his squad had been killed in Vietnam. Another shared how someone she knew lost limbs bailing out of a burning helicopter. Another shared how her husband went straight to college from high school--something he hadn't planned on doing originally and he still was drafted. And the stories went on. 

Of all the book clubs, this might have been the most interesting. It certainly was the most impactful I've been to. Though I have zero desire to ever host again, I'd be happy to be Corona Joan's emotional support human even if she ever gets sidled with hosting a book about being a landlord or something equally traumatic. 

*Note to self: One day I simply must write about the age dynamic in the Coronas. It's a thing.