Bird Watching

The Overlords have a new hobby. 

For the record, before I went to bed last night, the plant on the right had a lot more leaves. 

That red thing on the bottom of the window (outside) is a bird bath.

 

Very Random Texarkana*

Jesus is everywhere.
He's about an inch
and a half high. 

I uttered, "Hold the mayo" on my Taco Tuesday taco order. 

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. 

Service

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.

Praying for Another Pause

Marty and I are part of a Church of Christ "life group," which is a small group of couples who get together once a month to eat barbecue and visit. Generally someone throws in a Jesus conversation--but that isn't necessarily because this is a church sanctioned event, and more because, well... welcome to the South. 

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)}.] 

hh

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 his 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).  

They Like Their Football in These Parts

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. 

Luna Update

A couple of months ago, Luna became ill. She refused to eat. She ignored the kittens. She didn't want to go outside and bark at the dogs next door--Ace and Bobo. She didn't even want her toys. Our poor Luna went from 70 pounds of muscle to 65 pounds and then to 55 pounds as the infection ravaged her and we sat by stroking her head, telling her we love her. 

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. 

My Money is Really on September*

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. 

*I'm meeting up with Bliz in Missouri in September.

Tomato Tragedy

The one ravaged survivor

I went to a tomato grafting class. I drove all the way to Mount Pleasant for this class. I learned how and why grafting is good. 

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. 

Random Texarkana

 

After hours of terrorizing the home while we were sleeping, the Overlords finally tuckered themselves out. Now if they could just be this calm at 2 a.m. 

_________

I had a chance to hang out at Tessa's the other night. She and I caught up on all things in our lives. I always enjoy visiting with her. She has no idea how interesting she really is. 

Tessa currently has two awful real estate clients right now. At once. Both needy. Both obnoxious. Not gonna lie, her stories caused a bit of PDSD. I had some truly lovely clients. I also crossed paths with some horrible humans who make me hope Karma gets them. 

_________

I'm currently teaching my pal Joy how to sew. Our first session left me feeling like I have a long way to go in the instruction department. I promise it was me, not her. Next week we'll try it again. 

 

The Town has about 865 People. Maybe

My nephew, Patrick, hanging out
with the Fouke Monster

Fouke Arkansas, the rural town about 15 miles from Texarkana has a Dollar General, Monster Mart (tourist trap convenience store with a room dedicated to Fouke Monster merch) and another convenience store across the street. On the outskirts there's also a liquor store where they sell alcohol for wildly crazy prices.* My hair stylist has a shop right next door. Fouke also probably has at least one Church of Christ and Baptist church--though I'd put money on more than one. There used to be an authentic Mexican restaurant there with amazing street tacos. Sadly, the locals had no appreciation for good food and the place closed.  

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. 

 

The Clawsfather

He smiles when he sleeps.

Roosevelt is the more chill of the two Overlords. He was the cuddler until he hit teenagehood. And now Roosevelt is perfectly content to have someone pet him as they stand nearby, worshiping him. In return, he'll purr like he's running a two-stoke engine.

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. 

Did I Mention He Shredded an Entire Roll of Toilet Paper Last Night?*

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. 

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. 

Vintage 1955

My gift to Gail

While in Arizona, I texted Deb, the Queen of the Coronas and asked if anything was happening for Corona Gail's 70th birthday. Her Majesty replied with, "not yet." And then another thread started with all but one Corona on it. And Viola! A surprise party was planned. 

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. 

Independence Day

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. 

Polly is in there somewhere--I think she's behind the conductor's arm. 

My Money is on Creepy Weirdo

7.13 Miles as the Crow Flies. 

Tuesday night, I morphed from City Girl to Small-Town Girl in about 15 seconds. While looking for Marty in the Texarkana Airport parking lot (about 20 spaces and I was just blind), a man walked up to me and asked if I knew if there was Uber in Texarkana. 

"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. 

 

There and Back

Somewhere in Pinal County

I'm home from a whirlwind trip--if one can call a week "whirlwind." Girl's weekend in the foothills of Tucson was almost perfect--in case anyone wanted to know what the noise was Saturday morning, it was a scream when I found a nope-on-a-rope hanging out on the sidewalk. Seeing my brother and his family made me smile for days on end. I saw a friend I wanted to see. And, I saw Bonus Dad, who walked without assistance the length of his assisted living apartment. He is still as wonderful as ever. 

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.