Probable Lasts

With Marty's job situation in limbo, I've reflected on a lot of probable lasts. It's too bad, because though there are things I'm not crazy about in Texarkana, I like it better than the idea of leaving. 

Today, while we put away our Christmas decorations, we all sort of took a moment and reflected on the idea this was probably our last Christmas here. I packed away some of the Christmas decorations folks here gave me, feeling sentimental. Corona Joan has given me these amazing Christmas plates for the last two years. Corona Gail gave me this beautiful "Joy" ornament. 

Corona Cindy made a gorgeous table runner a couple of years ago I won in a silent auction by outbidding Deb, by $5. Deb may never forgive me. However, I might give it to her anyway. Maybe not. 

Deb, the Queen of Everything, is taking off next week for her three month stint in warmer weather. Several folks suggested a mini-Corona night before she left. I pushed harder than most. But I didn't want to tell her it was because I wanted one probable last Corona night. She's busy, I didn't want to guilt her into it. Plus, what if I'm still here when she gets back? Would she think I was crying wolf? 

When I head out to my favorite coffee joint to meet Val or Joy, I ruminate along those lines. How many more? At the Master Gardener Christmas party a few weeks ago, I teared up on the way home, wondering if that had been my probable last event with them. I mean, if we are still here when dues come around in March, it means Marty doesn't have a job. The same goes for Golden Quills--but in that case, an anonymous soul paid my membership for 2026--which in some ways is too bad because Betzy is working her level best to turn away good writers.

I was a wreck after the book club Christmas party, knowing my time here is coming to an end. I agreed to host for January, because I wasn't sure how much time I had left. What a lovely group of women. That's all I have to say. 

Very few of these folks are comprehending that Marty is unemployed nor do they fully understand my time here is probably limited. A few, like Joy, get it. I'm pretty sure Corona Joan and Corona Gail figured it out, but neither bring it up. I don't either. Most say silly things like, "Has Marty thought about commuting to Shreveport?" For what job? Plus Shreveport is roughly 75 miles from here. And my favorite, "There's a company with the name, 'tri' in it on the I-30 frontage road that uses computers. He should apply there."  

As soon as my edits are complete, I'm going to start working on getting the house shoveled out--think an early spring cleaning. I need to paint the bathroom and the kitchen. I'd like to get the landscaping around front spiff up. There are a few minor this and thats which need attention. Because--just in case--we are selling our house and taking off to parts unknown. In the meantime, I'm grateful for my time here. And I am absorbing my Probable Lasts with as much grace as I can. 

But then again, perhaps Marty will land a job here. We'll call that an improbable miracle. 

The Writing Process

My current manuscript is almost complete. To be fair, it IS complete. I'm in the line edit stage. Marty swears I haven't slept in a year. He may be right. 

Here's how the book writing process works: 

Write It

Write for days. Weeks. Months.  Let the characters consume your every waking thought. Say random things during social events which make you look crazy because you aren't paying attention to the conversation around you. 

For example, "What are you doing this weekend." Reply: "I wonder if I should have the cat jump from the refrigerator and on to the burglar's head instead of from the second floor balcony."  

Forgive your friends when they look at you like you aren't all there. Because, well, you aren't.

Beta Readers

Find people who like you enough to read your manuscript and who are willing to give you brutal advice. If they say things like, "that was a nice story," they aren't qualified beta readers. Generally these folks are also writers who are expecting you to return the favor.  

Rewrite It

Sort through the Beta Readers' comments and pick out the useful feedback. 

Not useful: I hate that you named your character Meredith instead of Mary.
Useful: Bearer bonds were discontented in 1982 and that negates the premise of your story. 

Not useful: There's no street in Lafayette Louisiana called, "Ashland."
Useful: Your serial killer's name is Hannah-Belle Lecter. You know there's a fictional serial killer named Hannibal Lecter right? 

Once you have everything sorted out, rewrite. Plan on living on almonds and M&Ms. Protip: the best way to stay productive is to keep your phone on do not disturb. 

Developmental Edits

Send your manuscript to your developmental editor who will point out areas to elevate your story. The editor will tell you useful things such as, "Your secondary character isn't likable and here are ways to fix that." And "You have two major plot holes which don't move your narrative and what about having your main character flee from Argentina instead of Uganda because he's South American?"

Rewrite It Again

This time, take all that information the developmental editor sends and squeeze it into your story. Remove irrelevant chapters and add in relevant scenes. Argue with your developmental editor why the rose garden chapter must be in the book and acquiesce to keeping it there when she insists it is absolutely necessary. 

Spend too much time on X (Twitter) with other writers who are also not fixing their edits. Remember you have other people in your life and once in a while and step outside and say hello to the world. 

Line Editing

Line editing is the fun process of going through a manuscript and finding issues in sentence structure, paragraph formation and word usage. For example, in my particular story, I used the word, "chessboard," three times in one paragraph. 

Generally during this phase, the writer (who is now partially psychotic from a lack of REM sleep) realizes one of their characters managed to go from point A to point B without any logical processes. Voila! They just arrived! And no matter how much they don't want to rewrite an entire chapter or two, the writer knows the story looks contrived unless this matter is resolved. 

Pretend like people still like you. Remember to do laundry, feed the dog and promise yourself you will sleep at some point. Protip: own more than one pair of compression gloves. Also remember nobody cares about your story as much as you do, and bone up on current events so you can talk about something other than what's in your imagination. 

More rewrites. And probably a Beta Reader or two at that point.  

Line Editors

Writers can--and should--have a line editor. However, prior to a line editor looking at their work, writers should have done their own line editing. Why? Because 1) the writer knows the story better and should be able to see if Hannah-Belle's brother is rolling his eyes when that is not an action he takes. He sticks out his tongue--that's his signature behavior. 2) A line editor won't catch everything anyway. 

Protip: keep a list of the manuscript's overused words. Currently my list is four pages long, front and back. I'll eventually dig out a thesaurus. Or rewrite the sentences. Another protip: writing "beside" instead of "next to" is a great way to lower the word count. However, sometimes "next to" is a better way to convey the moment.

Read it Over

And not only read it over, listen to it. More than once. Do this until you hate your story and think it is the stupidest drivel ever written and wonder why would anyone ever buy this garbage. 

Proofreader

Send the manuscript to a proofreader. Of course, you've already proofread it. But, I promise you missed a meaningful comma. There's a big difference between, Let's eat, Grandma and Let's eat Grandma. 

And to be fair, a proofreader won't catch everything. I've read plenty of books published by the big companies as well as books published by indie authors with proofreading errors. It happens. Writers expect it. Readers are outraged. Proof it yourself first anyway and forgive your proofreader. 

Anyway, The Redeemed is slated to be released this spring. Also, mysteries are hard to write. 

Luna's Bump

Luna's bump is back. It is even more visible because her fur is shaved from where she had surgery. Currently the bump is the size and shape of a drink coaster instead of the size and shape of an orange--like last time. We just had a chance to bathe her and get the dried blood off--Doc P wanted us to wait until the stiches were mostly dissolved. And now it looks like we aren't done torturing the poor thing. 

I'm not buying the fungal infection theory. She's been on anti-fungals for weeks. This thing is coming back faster than before. Google isn't any better at diagnosing this than anyone else with a veterinarian degree. However, I just deep-dived into: hygroma, a fluid-filled sac that develops over bony prominences and pressure points, especially in large breeds of dogs. This results in a dense-walled, fluid-filled cavity. 

This isn't exactly what's going on, but honestly, it's as good a theory as anything else at this point. 

She's still spry. In fact, she just came running, her ears flapping and her tail wagging, when I called her inside. This wouldn't be so awful if we could just get to the bottom of what's going on. And--I'm just gonna say it because it is affecting all of us--given she's our biggest monthly expense at the moment, if we could have her healed cheaply, even better.  

Deep in the Heart of Texas

Briggs Texas is in the middle of absolute nowhere. If one made a right triangle and used a point in Austin and another in Temple, TX, the third point might be Briggs. And that's generous. But think of it this way: An hour or more away from anywhere with reasonable medical care. 

When I deep dived into the Briggs Texas vibe, I found out they have feed store, strangely only one Dollar General, and two convenience stores. They also have a "community center," a Church of Christ on Walker Street and a competing Baptist church on Church Street. Oh yes! There's also a cow processing plant (slaughter house) for the local ranchers. 

According to the map, "Briggs State Bank" is an historical landmark. However, after a further review, the building sported overgrown weeds and no parking lot. We decided "historical landmark" is some sort of euphemism for "dilapidated dump." 

The population of Briggs Texas happens to be hovering around 100. Someone on Reddit asked what people do for fun in Briggs. The only reply was "sex." So, I'm not sure the population numbers are completely accurate. 

A job matching Marty's qualifications came up in Briggs Texas, though the company remained a mystery. As much as I would love to stay in a small town, I kyboshed this opportunity. 

Mystery solved.

Another ^!%&*^%$ Open Letter

Dear Betzy, 

I'm just gonna throw this out there. You are an officer of a voluntary writing group. Can we unpack that sentence please? 

Let's start with "officer." Yes, you are the secretary, not the Supreme Empress, Queen of the World. 

Next up, "voluntary." Nobody is paid. Everything is optional--including my participation. If you send me a text and I don't respond for an hour, that's the way it will be. If you need an immediate response, just try the old fashioned way and call.  

And finally, let's talk about "writing." You claim to be a writer. May I suggest adding a few more nouns and verbs to your arsenal? Perhaps find a few that are smoother around the edges and might get you further when requesting assistance. 

I'm really trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. I really am. But girl, you are in your 40s and driving me bonkers. Hopefully you aren't doing this to all the members because, if you are, the writing group I was a part of starting is probably destine to fall apart. And nobody wants that.   

And one more quick nugget: this wasn't set up as a social group. We are there to learn the craft of writing. We don't want to be chummy and hang out--you've met writers? Correct? They aren't social, they are introverts who deign to leave their homes once a month and only when there's a really good speaker. Otherwise, they can hang out with their own friends, family, or cats. Your job wasn't set up as the social coordinator. your job was initially set up to take minutes and announce when the meetings are being held. I don't want this role back. I want you to succeed in this role. It isn't difficult to send out an e-mail once a month and posting on social media. Start with the baby steps first. Find some cohesion and go from there.    

I Made It a Mile

Random Under-Decorated East Texas House 

If I recall from 8th grade Earth Science, December 21 has the least amount of daylight in the Northern Hemisphere. I didn't think about this particular tid-bit when I opted to go for my walk today at 4:55 p.m. So there I was, strolling down Arizona Avenue, enjoying the weather and a chance to stretch my legs. I even remember thinking how great it is that, because Marty isn't working, he's doing all the cooking so I didn't have to figure out dinner. 

Sunset today was at 5:13. In East Texas, we don't have the spectacular sunsets I grew up watching. The sun is either up or it is down. There's no such thing as twilight and dusk. And that's a shame the streets in Wake Village are very narrow and there's no sidewalks on Arizona Avenue--and don't even get me started on the old fashion notion of a street light. 

Also, I'm pretty sure the temperature dropped ten degrees as soon as the sun went down. But I could be wrong. It might have dropped 50 degrees. After all, it's East Texas and meteorology is more of a street thug than a true science. 

On the bright side, on my way back, I saw all my neighbors' lit Christmas displays. People around here like to decorate the outsides of their homes as an ode to the Griswolds, so there's was enough light to guide me home.   

Sewing Projects

 When we moved here, I had ample free time and no social life. So, I pursued all the hobbies I always wanted to pursue--including sewing. Here's a sneak peek at the young adults' Christmas presents. If I can figure out what I did with the navy blue ribbing I bought before Sunday, I might also finish the jacket I was planning on making for Buck. I will then make Polly a pair of lounge pants. Otherwise, I'll make those after Christmas along with the lounge pants I want to make Marty. But for now, I'm burned out on sewing. 

For Buck
Protip: don't sew plaid material.
Matching the plaid seams are a nightmare. 

For Polly. 
Disclaimer: The dress doesn't look as
good on the hanger as I think it will on her.
She's petite, so it will hang below her knees.
She hates 3/4 sleeves, so this has long sleeves. 

Four Years on Arizona Avenue

Today is Marty's birthday. 

It also marks the fourth anniversary for the Sunshines living in Texas. 

January 5, 2022

December 17 2025
A new roof and a lot of yard decorations. 

Life with Pets Part 3

Luna has a weird--or "rare" according to Doc P.--fungal infection, which has caused the huge lumps on her. He assures me it is not a snake bite. I'm glad Luna is getting treated, however it might have been cheaper for it to have been a one and done snake bite than another medication for this poor puppy. She's now on 7 pills. However four of them are temporary. 

For the record, the cone of shame is staying on her for another few days so she cannot get to her healing wounds. 

Life with Pets Part 2

Leon doing to a roll of paper
towels what was almost done to him. 

This afternoon, Marty and I went to check on the greenhouse while Luna pranced around the back yard, hoping the dogs next door didn't notice the cone of shame around her head. And then, Marty took her back inside while I picked up Luna's toys. 

I heard and saw two things at the same time. Above me, the screeching sound of a hawk. In front of me, Leon, who had snuck outside. 

Of course, Leon thought his moment of freedom as awesome, as I chased him around the yard, unaware his life was thisclose to ending. Oh jeeze! When I looked up, it wasn't one hawk but two. Not a moment for the faint of heart. Marty must have heard my shouting because he came outside again and helped me corral the fool back inside. 

Life with Pets

Luna came home yesterday, with a few shaved sections and four tubes sticking out of her. The tubes are "leaky," which means blood randomly spurts through the tubes and around the tubes, leaving droplets throughout the house. Additionally, we are told Luna is not to jump on the bed or on furniture. However, nobody told Luna she shouldn't jump. 

This has caused a bit of an issue because: 

1: Luna likes to be with me. Everywhere. Always. This is all sorts of wonderful, but when I'm sewing, I don't need her underfoot in the master bedroom. 

2: The master bedroom is one of the few rooms with carpet. Did I mention Luna bleeds? 

3: Our bed is higher than normal beds and she will want to jump on our bed with stitches and the bloody tubes sticking out of her. 

Additionally, the Overlords have been offering their sympathies by stealing her toys and trying to lick her wounds. 

All that is to say, Marty graciously took Luna last night on the couch and I grabbed the Overlords and threw them in the master bedroom and let them wreck chaos throughout the night. Marty and I are disagreeing on who had the raw end of the deal. 

***Bonus Content*** 

Real conversation at the Sunshine home yesterday.

Me: How do you think Luna got that bump on her back to begin with? 

Marty (not looking up from what he's doing): It's a snake bite. 

Me: Doc P never mentioned it being a snake bite!!??? 

Marty (shrugging and ignoring my growing hysterics): Our animals used to get bit by snakes and would have lumps like that. They'd usually go down on their own. Sometimes they didn't if it was especially bad.

Me: Wait? Does that mean there's a snake in our yard? A poisonous snake? 

Marty (now completely zen and totally not the least bit bothered by my shrieking): No, but there probably was one at some point this summer. It probably came under the fence. (From the woods behind our house).  

(Young adults backing out of the room. Buck mouthing to Polly, "Take me with you on your date with Sherman tonight. Please!!!")

Me: You need to put out more snake away. First thing tomorrow morning. 

Marty: It's going to be 40 degrees tomorrow. The snakes are hibernating. 

Anyway, I don't care what the temperature, Marty is throwing more of that stuff down. He can sprinkle it all over the neighborhood for all I care. 

One of Luna's wounds.
We call this one, "Ode to Locutus of Borg."

A Week in the Life

 

Because no battleplan outlives the enemy, life hasn't taken the smooth road I'd like this year month. With Christmas less than two weeks away, and me telling my editor she'd have my latest round of changes by December 15, I got sick. Fun fact: I've slept more this week than I've slept in the past six months. Oh yes, I'm on the mend, thankyouverymuch. 

I missed four events this week--one of which was Krissy's fabulous Christmas party which I look forward to every year. And let me tell you, I have to be VERY ill to miss that one, especially because I may not be living here this time next year and it makes me sad to think I won't be attending another of Krissy's fabulous Christmas parties.  

I've gotten edits done through my first act--and promptly fell asleep earlier this week when I realized I wrote "chessboard" three times in the same paragraph. I haven't had the nerve to look at my current manuscript since. But I should at least send my editor some sort of proof of life. Eventually. I think it is fair to say she isn't getting this manuscript until 2026. 

Because the Sunshine Christmas is a modest affair this year, I'm sewing. I started making a blue jacket for Buckaroo. And what did the kid do? He went out and bought a blue jacket in the exact style of the one I'm making him. He'll have two blue jackets soon. I'm also making a dress for Polly. And, if I am inspired and I have time they are getting lounge pants because I have the fabric. Sherman is getting something too. I just don't know what. 

On top of it all this week, Luna had emergency surgery to remove an I-don't-know-what-to-call-it-and-nor-does-Doc P from her spine. But it was the size of an orange. She now has four drainage tubes in her and she is randomly bleeding because she won't be still. Who can blame her with the Amazon driver coming by to say hello and the random squirrels taking over her back yard. And then there's the overlords who found her new toy duck. Luna is having none of that!  

We were supposed to go to Little Rock. Maybe next week. I was going to clean the house. Maybe I'll find out I have a fairy godmother after all. 

Today Her Highness, Deb, the Queen of the Universe and a force multiplier of positive energy, called me, demanding to know why she was unaware I'd been sick. After we determined, me telling her would have only disturbed me with more group texts, she asked what I needed. I told her I need a time machine that would allow me to get this past week back. 

An Open Letter to Betzy

Dear Betzy, 

Please let me start off by saying you are the perfect person for the role as Communications Officer for our writer group. Though the position is dubbed, "secretary," I think you've elevated it nicely. And for that, I'm excited because I was glad to step back and relinquish this role. East Texas has needed a writer's group. Last year we were getting our feet wet, figuring out what to do with it. Now that the writer's group is established, I see true commitment and leadership in you. What was created will flourish with your passion. Thank you for carrying this torch.  

Now then, a few things about the world outside of East Texas that you should know. And please note, I'm only sharing this with you because you've made me the victim of your shenanigans. There is never a time to send a group text and demanding EVERYONE on the text--whether they are a member or not--respond to said text. Why? Because our phone does not need to blow up 837 times in an hour with, "yes I'm coming," or "no, I'm not available for the party" or "who are you and why do you have my number?" 

Additionally, if you've already broadcasted your message in other mediums, such as e-mail, some sort of weird phone app not everyone uses AND social media sites, there's no reason to duplicate your efforts. Therefore, if not everyone responds to your text, please don't feel the need to send out another group text to the same folks admonishing the people who didn't respond. This is a Christmas party, not a medical procedure where you need everyone to participate.  

That said, if you receive some sort of other communication with an RSVP, there is no reason to broadcast everyone else's reply. If Suzy isn't going, we don't need to know--especially if Suzy isn't a member of the writer's group. If Joan is going, awesome! There's no reason to tell us before the party. Let us be pleasantly surprised.  

Also, does it really matter what we are bringing? You said a book for a book exchange. At some point there are folks who might think you have control issues if you must have this information prior to the party. It is true, I have zero idea what book I'm bringing for the book exchange. Please don't feel the need to send out another group text reminding me that I need to get it together by tomorrow. 

Speaking of tomorrow. I'm rethinking going. It isn't you, it's me. Sorry, it's cold. I don't want to drive 20 miles for a party after dark and probably drive in the rain or on ice. I have zero Christmas spirit. I got rid of all the books I didn't want four years ago when I moved. Because we are on a tight budget I don't want to buy a book either. I could throw in one of the books I authored, but no. 

Anyway, these are small wrinkles I'm sure will be ironed out as the group grows. I see great things for this writing group--especially if you target your communication to us with future writing-centered events and stop focusing on crowd control. And as much as I hope your enthusiasm catches on, I also hope you find a way so soften it and spread it out instead of inundating us all at once. 

Sincerely, 

Everyone Else

A Happy Sewing Circle

My sewing pal, Valerie talked me into co-teaching a tote bag class. We were expected to teach how to make this. 

I made this last summer.

However, the only person who signed up for the class was someone who had sewn two pieces of fabric together once before. Our student was my pal Joy--who is an overthinker and task oriented. She isn't used to enjoying the journey and likes to appreciate the end result. I've tried before to teach her to sew and found out that I don't have the right skill set for that. However, I knew Val did. So, once Joy entered the shop and we found out nobody else signed showed up, this became a two-on-one sewing class. 

I can only speak for myself here, I had a great time with these two ladies. It truly is a blessing to laugh for three hours with people I like, while doing something I love. We didn't get through a tote bag, but Val did teach Joy the basics of a straight seam. Perhaps in the beginning of the year, if Joy is up for it, I'll go over and show her how to make the second side of her bag. And if Valerie has some time, maybe I drag her along. 

Joy's first side of her bag.  

As a side note, during the class, Sherman began texting me. He was shopping for Polly's Christmas gift and sending me photos of his options. Joy, Val and I looked at his selections and decided the dude is probably overwhelmed and stuck in some sort of gift-giving hell. Plus, if he took four seconds to channel his inner 13-year old self, surly he'd see the design on the pocket of the jacket he was looking at as a penis. Right? I mean, it seemed obvious to us 50-somethings who couldn't unsee it. To save him from himself, we threw out a few ideas. 

A Normal FB Post

I never used Facebook in AZ and was planning on deleting my account once I moved here. Don't know if I will keep it when I leave Texarkana, but for now, posts like this make me smile. Texarkana Arkansas is in Miller County. 

We Caved

Our money saving measure lasted until late last night. 

The heat is currently on. It is 34 degrees--at 2 in the afternoon. It is the warmest part of the day. My writer's meeting has been canceled tonight because of snow. 

Not sorry.