Nope, Because Nancy Isn't a Crazy Weirdo

Preface: When I told Marty about this incident, he commented the woman's corpse must still be missing because I wasn't in jail.

After a six-month hiatus, I made my way back to the local yoga studio. As I was getting settled, I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me, who said lots of pleasant things. She had the right kind of vibe, laughter and essence, bringing me back to my Phoenix life. I said to her in a wistful and nostalgic  way, "You remind me of my friend Nancy." 

When yoga started, I found myself having to concentrate, focus, and move deliberately, because after six months, I'm not as limber as I used to be. 

So there I was in my down dog, focusing on breathing, not falling on my face, and keeping my back straight. The instructor said in her sing-song tone: "If it is in your practice, extend your left leg," so I did--all while my arms shook. 

That's when the woman who no longer reminded me ANYTHING of my friend Nancy, reached across and--I wish I was making this up--tickled my foot. I'd like to add, I was no longer focusing on breathing, falling on my face, or keeping my back straight, and neither was anyone else in the room.

The woman laughed, as she said to me, "I bet your friend Nancy would have done that too." 

Update

 Buck made it through his first day of class. He's pumped. 

And, the drive wasn't too bad. 

He's a Good Driver

Buckaroo starts the University of Arkansas (Hope, Arkansas campus) today. He's been puttering around for the past few days, nervous. 

I asked him today what is bothering him. He tells me it's the drive--which is 30 miles one way. "Yes I know I've driven in Phoenix!" he said--though I hadn't brought it up. Indeed he has. He's driven farther and in heavier traffic, as he will soon learn. 

In some ways, it's a relief that his biggest fear is the drive and not his course load. But, I'll tell him that in a few weeks when he feels a bit more secure.  

I'm Not Making This Up

 On the ol'e Facebook: 

Sewing Gratitudes

 When I was 13ish, I took home economics where I was "taught" to sew. Except the teacher had one foot into her retirement and zero tolerance for creativity, understanding or compassion. 

Fast forward to the end of the term and she found my sewing project an abysmal mess. It was. I'd asked for guidance from her several times, only to be blown off. The teacher held up my abysmal mess to the class in an effort to shame me and as an example of terrible sewing. I lost it on her and said lots of things I had on my mind. Somewhere after that, the Powers that Be, thought I should be in shop class. They were right. I loved shop and I hated sewing from that moment on. 

One day, Bonus Mom patiently sat with me and taught me the basics of sewing. However, I wasn't in the season of my life to truly make it a hobby. And then I retired and moved to Texas where Val taught me to sew and Bob taught me to quilt in the first ten months I lived here. Every sewing project I work on now is done with gratitude to the three who helped me learn these skills. 

These projects I post here will hopefully, someday, remind my children how important creativity and inspiration is. I'm far from an expert. I want to tackle more complicated projects (clothes) at some point, but for now, I'm happy with what I'm doing. 

A going away table runner for Corona Ginny.

A birthday present for a shut-in neighbor.

This is a Problem

 I'm on day 4 (FOUR PEOPLE!!!) of not having windshield wipers in East Texas. 

If you live somewhere like, say... Arizona, you might not understand the significance of this. These windshield wiper thingies have two purposes. First, they remove the inevitable bug splatter. But they also push this thing called, "rain" out of the driver's field of view. And though the forecast doesn't call for rain at the moment, wait an hour and it will.  

Oh, it appears the windshield wiper motor went out. It isn't a simple fuse fix, but it will be taken care of some time next week. Probably. 

The Rules*

Corona Bylaws

1. A representative from auxiliary chapters must attend an annual Texarkana Corona night.

2. Auxiliary chapters will host surprise inspections from Texarkana Corona representatives.

3. Members must appreciate potlucks, carb-loaded snacks and be connoisseurs of fruit salad.**

4. Members must love to travel and appreciate the beach.

5. Members must lift each other up in thought, word, and deed—except when they fall on vacation, then pictures must be taken before any, “lifting up.”

6. Members will laugh often, love always and forgive each other after every Uno No Mercy game.

7. Members must carry the burdens of their Corona sisters, while unconditionally trusting each other in all aspects of life, except during an active game. At that time, it is acceptable to take their cards or dominoes with them if they must leave the table.

8. Members must be generous at all costs, including making room in the front pew Sunday morning.

9. Members must be a sister in Christ and port in the storm.

10. Members must take an oath of discretion, because whatever happens at Corona night, must stay at Corona night.

  

* Background: Corona Ginny is moving to Tennessee to be Gigi to her only granddaughter. This is a loss for all of us and a gain for her granddaughter. Ginny has told me the same thing we all say: she's never had a group of friends like the ones she's made here. 

Ginny's going away party is tonight. A group thread went around for two weeks discussing what we should do for a going away present. As with all group texts, there's a lot of dithering, nothing is resolved and there's always a ton of tangents, so the main message is lost. 

When riding with Deb, the Queen of the Coronas to Little Rock this week, I took over the text thread and announced we were making a Corona "Starter Kit" for Ginny, complete with a few games. I said this was Deb's edict, which made it easy, nobody argued. Then, Deb and I bandied around the idea of giving Ginny a "Certificate of Authority" to start a Tennessee Corona Chapter, complete with bylaws. Yesterday we wrote up our bylaws. 

** Drinking appears to be a gray area with the Church of Christ, so wine is euphemistically referred to as "fruit salad." I've suspected that's why they keep me around, so their parties aren't a "Church" event. 

Pollywog

 This one turns 25 today. 

Polly hysterically laughing while we were in Traverse City last year. 

She has the sweetest heart. She sings like a song bird. She is smart, funny and fierce. I suspect this is going to be a banner year for her. 

Unfortunately for Marty and me, Polly has plenty of young adult plans for the next few days which don't involve her fuddy-duddy parents. She's out with friends, soloing at church and going out for sushi with  the friend who makes her smile. 

Sigh, perhaps we can kidnap her for the weekend and entice her with Indian food in Little Rock. 

My Day With Buck

Buck walking into campus.

I love that my 22  year old son will spend time with me. Today we went to my hair appointment, where he waited patiently while Ms. Crystal and I chatted. She then turned her attention to Buck, asking all about the girls and whatever else he was willing to disclose in front of me. My best guess is Ms. Crystal wouldn't mind introducing him to one of her daughters.

As I drove back from North Fouke in a rain storm, my windshield wipers suddenly stopped working. So, we hung out under an overpass on Interstate 49, for the rain to sorta clear up for an hour. Buckaroo is good company in frustrating situations. The rain cleared for about 35 seconds, enough to give me a false sense of hope and zero visibility. Meanwhile, Buck googled "where is the interior fuse box" in a 2014 Rav4. The answer: nowhere convenient. 

We left the car at a gas station and my pal Joy drove us back to Wake Village while another thunder cell reigned upon us. Welcome to the South. 

Back to my day. Buck, knowing I had a few things to accomplish took off in his car and ran my errands, including picking up a birthday cake and getting lunch for the family. Meanwhile, the weather cleared enough for Marty to go with me to pick up my stranded car in nowhere Arkansas.  

When Buckaroo returned, the two of us drove through the now sunny skies to Hope, Arkansas where Buck starts school next week. He got his parking permit and chatted up several folks, while I stood around twiddling my thumbs, pleased he wanted me to come in the first place. After we were done with those errands, we high-tailed it back to Texarkana Arkansas where he picked up his student ID (don't know why we couldn't do this in Hope) and his text book. 

All day, my son discussed his life, his job, his future goals and aspirations. This is my child who makes me laugh and calms me when we are stuck under a bridge in a thunderstorm. As a mama, I'm glad to call him mine.

I've been up two hours

 How it started

How it's going

A Random Evening in a Small Town--Stream of Consciousness Version

I met Tessa--my former realtor, former boss, and current friend--for our monthly taco night. Across the restaurant, the girl I picked out the first weekend we lived in Texarkana for my son to marry saw me and sent me a smile and a wave.   

On a side note, Buckaroo has shown zero interest in meeting this wonderful girl. She doesn't know my son exists. But after three and a half years, she and I are now, "wave across a room" kind of pals. So, progress. And before y'all raise an eyebrow, there are two fine young men in this girl's family and I've watched their mama scope out Polly. That Mama has that "look." Polly also has zero interest in getting to know those young men. However, she thinks their sister would be an ideal prospect for Buck. 

After tacos, Tessa took me to her listing where I put on my former Realtor hat. We tore the listing apart, picking at all of the strange things the seller didn't do. Or was planning on doing. Or shouldn't have done. We also played the, "What would we say to our buyers if they were here and we were trying to sell this place?" game. "Open floorplan!" "New build!" "Possibilities and potential!" "Dark avocado green bathroom tile is probably all the rage!"

The seller blames Tessa for not getting the place sold. She and I both know having small details like a space to put a kitchen table, outlet covers and any other color than--I'm not making this up--black exterior paint makes loads of difference, especially if you are selling 1,400 square feet for more money than one can buy most larger homes in that same neighborhood. Unfortunately, the seller doesn't believe Tessa's suggestions and didn't hire her for her expertise.

Oh yes! The seller also wants--and I'm not making this up--a $10,000 earnest deposit from the buyer. 

Afterwards, we drove over to Tessa's place and hung out for a bit. As I was leaving, I saw Tessa's next door neighbors sitting on the front porch, which was fortuitous, because I just happened to have their pie pan in my front seat, ready to return. This gave me a chance to introduce Tessa to Mr. and Mrs. Dakota, who told me that a sweet lady we'd been cheering on, just passed away from ovarian cancer.  

As we are discussing this, Tessa was looking confused. I turned to her and explained that the woman was married to a real estate agent in town. NOW Tessa knows who our friend is.

After leaving the trio to visit, I ran back to Tessa's listing and turned off the water in the front yard, figuring the flowers got enough of a drink (so Tessa didn't need to go back out). I sent a note to Tessa suggesting she might want to consider locking the door at her listing at some point. But maybe that's just my big-city paranoia talking. 

I then drove across town--all three miles--and got home in time to see a couple of innings of Diamondbacks baseball (but fortunately didn't stay awake long enough to see them lose. Again), play with the kittens and tell Marty we are going to a funeral. 

Booyah!

 

The cover concept includes a sunflower. daisy.

I celebrated my big July goal by by going to the movies yesterday and watching Superman. I had the entire theater to myself for the morning show. It was so strange to have three hours without animals and people up in my space. 

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).