We Didn't Find a Mixing Bowl. Yet.

Every couple of weeks, I drag Marty out of the house and insist he drive somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care. Just GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. After 5 months, the unemployment is taking its toll. He's still happy he took the job in the first place. He's still happy he is no longer there. But his happiness level is beginning to crack with the day-to-day outlook no better than it was during the fourth quarter of 2024. And let's face it, there's only so many videos of medicinal herbs, societal-breakdown, and boot reviews (with the influencer using a table saw to cut the boot in half) Marty can watch. And there's only so many reviews of said videos the rest of us want to listen to. 

Anyway, this week with the blessings of the young adults, Marty and I managed two excursions. The first one was to Fouke and Genoa. Both are little towns on the Arkansas side, which are more or less considered suburbs. Our hairstylist is in Fouke. When I say she's in the middle of nowhere, it is an understatement. But yeah, she's in the middle of nowhere. 

Afterwards, I drug Marty to Three Chicks, a feed store, with the promise that they had medicinal herb seeds (they did. I have cheaper sources.). Three Chicks also has a cafe with inexpensive lunches and I knew Marty needed to try this place. We also went out into the back patio and hung out with the chickens and goats for a bit. I took a few pictures and by a strange coincidence, the person I was going to send the pictures to, called me the next day.  

You know, life in rural Arkansas. I still get a kick out of how normal this is for folks around here.  

(Sorry forgot to send it) 

When one of the young adults came to me Wednesday night and mentioned that Marty NEEDED another round of "let's get him out of his head," I suggested we go to that fun-fun metropolis, Longview Texas! My reasoning was this: I need a mixing bowl to replace the one gravity took from me. It is part of a set. I'm scouring the thrift stores looking for a replacement bowl. Plus, Marty is into videos about boots and men's fashion so who knows! The Longview resale shops might be a win-win. 

I'll let you y'all sit with that a minute. Take your time. And yes, he still only wears Hawaiian print shirts--which one cannot find here. But the YouTube men's fashion videos!

Longview Texas is about 80,000 people. To get there from Texarkana, it is ninety miles of back roads. Longview has all the basic places and reminds me a lot of Flagstaff AZ with better municipal infrastructure. 

We found a "bistro" which turned out to be a restaurant attached to a gas station. I vetoed it when the menu included tandoori chicken which had "velvety gravy" and the menu boasted tacos with "scrumptious onions." Instead, we found a fast-food joint.  We also found a place called--and I'm not making this up--"Food Factory" in a shady part of town. We'd eaten by then, but that didn't stop us from inquiring what the sign meant, while noticing the lack of road-kill at the same time. (Welcome to Texas). 

Just for fun we took a different route home. This was the view there and back, but this photo was taken about forty miles from our home on the drive back. 

East Texas on a sunny day.

They Were Gone in Four Days

I've been toying with driving back to Arizona for one main reason: oranges. I have memories of my ten year old self, hiding in the orange tree in my front yard, reading books my mother's John D. MacDonald* books and living off the sweet valencias. Oh my! 

There's nothing like a fresh orange. Nothing! Y'all don't know how good you have it. Oranges in Texarkana grocery stores aren't even orange. They are a motley green-orangish. So, why bother? A few weeks ago Marty and I went to Dallas and I bought oranges. They were a wonderful fake. Polly and I were burning through the bag. That is, until I got a care package this week from a dear friend in Arizona who sent me fresh citrus from her trees. I did a taste test between the leftover Dallas oranges and the ones from Arizona. Not even close. 

Yesterday, I went to a friend's house for lunch. I brought over soup and oranges for dessert. My friend said, "I really don't care for oranges." Bwhahaha! She'd never had a real Arizona orange before. She's now a fan and gets the hype. 

Oh yes! Polly is making lemon curd. 

*At the age of ten, I read EVERYTHING I could get my hands on--except Judy Blume, stories of preteen girls struggling through preteen girl experiences. I wasn't allowed to read those. My mother considered them too "adult." So, I binged on my mother's John D. MacDonald novels. Judy had nothing "adult" compared to Johnny Mac's pulp.  

Beds

Lots of construction takes place here. 
Side note: this might be on my next book cover.

 One of the amazing ministries the Church of Christ does is making beds for foster care. The man who started this years earlier has managed to expand it to East Texas and parts of Arkansas. 

Last year, I asked for donations for my birthday from the lunch bunch crowd for this ministry. Part of me did it for selfish reasons. I don't need more tea towels and lotion--two staples of Southern gift-giving. But the ministry always needs pillows, sheets and Home Depot gift cards. I'm pleased to say, this started a trend of donating to charity in lieu of Lunch Bunch birthday celebrations.  

Additionally, there is a group of women who get together about once a month and make these beds from raw materials. I've been known to brandish an electric drill and sander on a few occasions in a warehouse across town--come to think of it, I'm probably the youngest woman there. A group of men install these heavy wooden beds in their intended locations. 

But yesterday, the ladies were asked to install five bunkbeds (which is ten beds, stacked) into a domestic violence shelter. There were eight of us and we managed to get this done in three hours. The first few beds weren't heavy. One person could manage a foot piece or a railing. By the end of the day, it took three of us to move a twin mattress. And my arms are so tired today--but not sore. 

We weren't able to take pictures because of the nature of our mission. (I didn't have my phone with me, and I couldn't convince Ruthie to do it on my behalf, that's okay. She has boundaries and she's definitely a rule follower.) You'll just have to take my word for it. It was impressive site to see these beds fully put together--mattress and all. 

In other news, Marty has an interview tomorrow. A first interview--which is more like a speed date and doesn't have any significance at this time. However, I thought about his interview as we constructed these beds. I love living purposefully. But I kept thinking throughout the afternoon, would this be another probably last moment here in Texarkana.  

This is not a picture from the domestic shelter.
Just a photo of the beds we constructed in the past. 

Texarkana Crime

 On the ole Facebook this morning. 

A Few NIce Days

View from the front door Monday morning. 

We are sorta thawing. At least during daylight hours. Every night the ice and snow melts and refreezes, humbling us further. The mail hasn't run in days, nor has the trash. Schools and churches are still closed. Grocery stores are open, but the Interstate isn't navigable, so the grocery stores aren't restocked. The greenhouse is warm, but the door is jammed closed by an ice drift which refuses to budge. So the thirsty plants will remain thirsty but warm. That kind of thawing. 

Yesterday, we de-iced a couple of cars, just to make sure we could open the doors. Frozen car doors are a a thing! Then, the young adults, one who loudly proclaimed hours earlier she was "sick" of being stuck inside with us, took a drive in search of somewhere their parents weren't. 

Today we de-iced the cars again--it freezes overnight--and Marty and I took a quick drive to assess the neighborhood. We have friends in their 80s and I'd been a bit concerned about them because according to the outage maps, they were hit. They are fine and they had power. 

We are told another cold front is coming through this weekend. However, this one doesn't have precipitation, so it won't add to the ice layer, but the current ice won't melt either. Right now my walking stick when I venture into the yard is a heavy iron bar Marty bought 27 years ago to break up the caliche in the yard of our first house. The bar is taller than me and I look ridiculous, but I'm not breaking a bone, navigating to check on the greenhouse or corral Roosevelt--who still runs through our legs, zooming outside. Other than returning Bob's sewing machine--I didn't use it--I don't really need to go anywhere anyway. Plus, I have two young adults who are aching to run errands if we decide we need groceries. 

In other news, Marty announced he will not be looking for a job in Michigan. 

A Pretty Picture

Yes I did go outside in socks, flip-flops and no jacket to take this picture.

The desert girl in me loves looking at the snow. Pretty white stuff all over the ground! It is still snowing. We are cozy. Marty is making beef stew. Polly is making homemade marshmallows. Why? I don't know. 

The ice under this snow is a bigger issue. The water freezes to the power lines, causing them to snap. Water freezes to tree limbs, causing them to snap onto power lines. Power is going down all over Bowie County. Friends have already started texting and saying they are in the dark. I'm expecting that will be the case here too by the end of the day. We have blankets and a fireplace. We're fine. 

However, my fantasy backup plan is an airbnb, six hours away in 65 degree Gulfport Mississippi, which will take pets. I'm sure there's one out there that isn't too expensive for our unemployed family. Right? 

Prepping

Don't let his cuteness fool you.
This guy likes to bolt outside at the least convenient times. 

We spent the day:

Making candles, because if the power goes out we can use the same heating method I've been using in the greenhouse to keep us moderately chilly.  

Making multiple trips to the shed, for toilet paper, paper towels, my 1950 copy of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Long Winter, inventorying the board games still out there (Nope. Plenty inside. There's a reason they are there).

Cutting down the prematurely growing iris bulbs--because I didn't think covering them would matter if it's zero degrees. 

Dithering about covering the azaleas, and deciding not to because they lasted through the 2021 freeze. 

Cleaning out the garage and bringing in the glass/plastic bottles we stored in the outside pantry. Don't need frozen Dr. Pepper Zero or cracked jars of salsa.

Making enchiladas. 

Chasing an escape artist cat who thinks he's cute and an adventurer like his namesake. 

Insulating the outdoor spigots. 

Climbing into the attic to ensure the pipes are covered.

Locating the water main and making sure it is easy to turn off if we have a burst pipe.

Having a family meeting on what to do if a pipe bursts and/or the power goes out. Polly's answer: hang out at Sherman's. The rest of us start a game of Settlers of Catan.  

Reassuring the plants in the greenhouse they will be fine--but I brought one inside anyway. 

Sealing the greenhouse roof because Marty opted to bring a space heater out there and ran the extension cord through the roof. 

Loosening the caps on the spare bottles of water we store in the garage, because if they freeze, they will expand. For those who think it is excessive to keep spare bottles of (tap) water, you haven't lived in rural Texas. My family scoffed too until we needed a few gallons. 

Cleaning the house.

Checking e-mails to discover the Church of Christ is having online service. Still no news if the Catholic Church expects their parishioners to drive through ice to show up for an hour on Sunday. 

Chatting with Val, who wanted to meet up and walk the mall. Instead, we had a long text thread and wished each other well.     

All this is to say, we are totally ill-prepared and have zero idea what to expect in the next few days. 

Oh yeah... There's another storm coming next week. 

And Away We Go

 

We are expecting weather. Lots of it. 

Five years ago, Texas had something similar and the entire state shut down. The issue wasn't the two feet of snow, but the ice forming on the trees and power lines, causing both to snap. 

Texarkana was without power for a week. Folks around here still tell the horror stories of trekking to the gas station on those icy roads (on foot mind you) to buy a convenience store burrito for dinner for lunch because the Road Runner Gas Station had a generator and was open. So one can appreciate the level of freak-out. 

Though it was 59 degrees today, Sam's Club's parking lot was filled to the brim when I drove by today. I didn't stop. Our prep took place earlier in the week--though I did fill up my car today, just in case I feel the urge to drive to Phoenix in the next 72 hours. I also bought puppy pads, just in case Luna doesn't feel like venturing into 0 degrees (minus wind chill). 

My level of prep consisted of changing next Monday's book club to the week after. I also stopped by Bob's quilt shop and borrowed his sewing machine (mine is on the fritz) just in case I feel inspired to sew. I doubt I will be, but thanks to Bob. Tomorrow I'm making enchiladas to snack on for the next couple of days. Marty is promising to make stew as well. 

To reinforce the fact we have zero idea of what we are doing, Marty and I made a list of our next "prepping" steps. Clean the house. Grab extra toilet paper stored in the shed. Make a few extra greenhouse candles. He and Buck are going into the attic to make sure the pipes are covered. We have a few board games stored in the attic or shed or somewhere and we want to find those too. Cover the strawberry patch in the garden. That kind of thing. 

Honestly, if the power goes out, we will all be curling up on the couch with a fire roaring and the greenhouse "heater," reading books, playing board games and munching on cold chicken enchiladas while fretting the probable death of the greenhouse plants. However, I'd appreciate if the power stays on. 

Heating the Greenhouse

 Growing up where I did, I had no idea greenhouses needed an additional heat source. Marty and I have enjoyed playing with the alternate ways to heat up the place. We have three 50 gallon farm tubs filled with water which act like (according to the resident nerd) a "heat battery." Whatever. The greenhouse is warmer and humid. 

But the most useful method has been using my terra cotta space heaters.   

Ugly but functional. 
Oh yes, I had just watered the plants before I took the picture.
Additionally, that brown container to the right is a farm tub.  

The gist is, put a candle under the pot, give a small space for airflow, and the pot will warm up and radiate heat. It works. The greenhouse has stayed over freezing--even last Saturday night when the outside temperatures dipped to around 20 degrees. 

There's a downside. Even used candles from Goodwill aren't cheap. The least expensive candles in town are at Hobby Lobby. After spending enough money buying candles (and eliminating most of their stock) I switched to melting down the old candles, supplementing my stash with paraffin and making my own. However, someone else must have the same idea because Hobby Lobby is now out of paraffin and wicks. 

Protip, put the candle one is making inside a pan to avoid getting wax all over the stove. 

Melting old candles and making a new candle. 

Random Texarkana--The Winter Edition

I'm not buying the -16.
But I do believe the 2 degrees. 

While at the grocery store yesterday, Marty and I watched the crazies hoard milk, eggs and bread. One woman grabbed six gallons of milk. Marveling at the quantity and not completely tuned into the weather forecast, when I asked how many children she had. She said two and Texarkana is expecting snow. 

Yes but, is she planning on selling the milk on the black market for those who are just dying to make French toast and don't feel like hauling their backsides to Walmart on Saturday when three inches of snow cover the ground? Or is she expecting this winter weather weather to paralyze the ArkLaTex area? If she thinks this is a sign of the Second Coming, I've got news for her! That milk will spoil.   

Why was I at the grocery store? I wanted broccoli for part of our dinner.  

_________________

The unemployed Sunshines have been weathering the cold overnights with a bit of creative thrift. We've added a few more blankets to the bed. We have space heaters. The heater is set for 60 degrees. We all have extra socks. I'm not interested in turning on the gas fireplace, given that will skyrocket our gas bill. 

For the greenhouse, which doesn't stay warm on on sunlight alone when it's 25 degrees, I've made a heater using candles and a terra cotta pot, I acquired because someone tossed it to the curb*. 

Candles got expensive and the freezing temperatures have lingered, so I started making my own. Sadly, I've bought up all the paraffin wax at Hobby Lobby, so I started taking the spent candles and melting those down as well. So far it's working. The greenhouse isn't toasty, but its above freezing. 

However, I doubt It will make a difference if the nights go into the single-digits. Marty and I are talking about alternate solutions, including running an extension cord and taking a space heater out there. Alternatively we could bring the plants into the house. I'm of the mind to bring the plants indoors--though the Overlords will think they have a new playground. Leon loves plants. Roosevelt loves dirt.  

*Tossing to the curb is Non-HOA/Southern speak for "free, come take this." I've done this myself on occasion.  

Beeville TX

Marty found a job post in Beeville, TX. And like all weird geographic locations, I jumped into the rabbit hole. Beeville is between San Antonio and Corpus Christi--though closer to "Corpus" (as the Texas say). It's population is about 13,000. Skidmore and Blueberry Hill (both with populations hovering around 800) round out the greater Beeville metroplex.

Though landlocked, Beeville is home to Chase Naval Field. The city also sports a college, two Dollar Generals, three Catholic churches and one hospital which seems to have a second story.  Outshining Texarkana, Beeville also has an H-E-B, which I hear is a wonderful grocery store. And let's not forget the ton of farms and ranches nearby.  

Great news! Lincoln Borglum, the Mount Rushmore sculptor and actor Scott Borland are from Beeville. On top of that, it is rumored baseball great, Nolan Ryan spent his teen summers working at a local dairy farm. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend a summer in Beeville? Right?    

Housing is deceptive. I saw beautiful Queen Anne homes with wraparound porches for sale at 1988 pricing. However, with a closer look, the homes showed a few quirks I'm just not into, such as multiple air conditioning units crammed into multiple windows. Though claw footed tubs are unusual in 2026, it's a strong indicator the home doesn't have a shower.  

"How would you feel about commuting an hour from Corpus?" I asked Marty after closing the tab for Zillow. "How would you feel about another few months of unemployment?" he countered. In truth, this is a job posting. So, this is a non-issue right now. But it's still fun to check out other places in my state.  

The Beeville Courthouse, which looks suspiciously
like it might have been the setting for Back to the Future. 

Random Texarkana Photos

Downtown in December

A wonderful Texarkana Chorale concert.
Polly is hidden behind the conductor. Sorry.

Sherman's birthday present. 

My pal, Joy, holding up her sewing creation. 

The Overlords birdwatching.
Leon: Think you can take that chickadee?
Roosey: Bro, hold my catnip. 

This would be a shameless self-plug if I had more than three blog readers.
In this case, I'm just cleaning out my pictures. 
The Stained Page, a wonderful downtown coffee shop, carries local authors. 

 

Birds on Arizona Avenue

I've turned into the age where I randomly take photos of birds. You've been warned. 

Just your average woodpecker. 

We believe that's a Carolina Wren.
What caught our eye was this picture was taken in December
when the only birds around seem to be hawks and cardinals. 

We have two families of cardinals who hang out.
Steve and Joseph are the two males. Mary and Martha are the females.

That's Steve (or Joseph). 

 

This dude was outside my home looking for Wiley Coyote. 

 

As an afterthought, I'm posting this dude again. He and his brethren are active right now.
And he's gorgeous.
Plus, I took the picture on Arizona Avenue. 

Today's Texas Protip

That pile is bigger than it looks.
The barrels are full compost barrels. 

Today's Texas Protip comes from my pal Myra, a Texarkana native. 

Add mothballs to your piles of leaves. This will (allegedly) keep the slithering critters away.

Speaking of leaves, dear Heavens it's January!!! Where are all of leaves coming from???  I can't rake them fast enough. 

Now off to Dollar General, y'all. 

Deb Reluctantly Agrees

I wrote two blogs: one what I didn't like about Texarkana the other about what I did. Because I like you three readers, it's probably best not to inundate you with 2500 words--which is the average size of a chapter. So, I'm breaking it down.

The truth is, there are a lot of intangibles I like about Texarkana. The things I don't like are tangible. When Deb pressed me last week why Marty wants to leave, it broke down to a few major issues. The biggest is the lack of quality medical care. 

There are two orthopedics in town. I saw one when I had hand surgery. My left hand is botched, and I really need it reevaluated. My right knee (I believe) has a torn somethingorother. It's been this way for quite a while. Phoenix will freeze over next August before I go back to that ortho. Marty saw the other ortho when he dislocated his shoulder. I think I had the better experience. 

When we moved here, there were two hospitals. Another was being built. One of the two hospitals closed. Now there is one active hospital and the medical company sponsoring the building of the new hospital filed Chapter 7. So, there’s a large unfinished eyesore that may someday be a hospital.

Also, somewhat related, the collective physician age around here hovers around 65, and I've received more than one retirement letter from a doctor. Not that I go to many doctors, but they provide a mass mailing anyway. One of the few cardiologists in town passed last November. The others aren't taking on new patients. I don't need a cardiologist, but I find that troublesome.  

I speed dated dentists when I got here. The third dentist didn't even recognize I was missing a tooth. The second one has done such damage to my mouth that my current dentist (number four) thinks I'll eventually have to have two teeth pulled. But not yet. 

Last week, I went in for a cleaning. The hygienist was so horrible that I refused to go back. Seriously, she should have first bought me dinner and told me I was pretty given how violated I felt. As I write this, my mouth still hurts. I thought maybe I was being too sensitive about the hygienist until I talked with Deb (who goes to the same dentist), who confirmed that yes, this hygienist is terrible. 

A List of Why The Overlords Should Never Go Outside.

 1. This guy and all his hungry pals. 

A Probable Last

Last night I went to Deb's prayer group. I've been avoiding her group for the better part of a year because it has been hijacked by--what others who also avoid her prayer group call--"Narcissistic Drama Whores." But I went and my low expectations were met. But it was great to see Deb and several others who are more patient then me and haven't run screaming from this group. 

With many of Deb's prayer meetings, there's often an afterparty where inevitably I get drilled about the Catholic church. Last night was no exception. A few Coronas stuck around and asked their questions. The afterparties are always worth it. We laughed for quite a while--a far cry from the prayer meeting. We even discussed the Church--something most folks around here are fascinated about but don't know anything about.  

At some point, Deb, who is leaving for her yearly trip to Central America in the next few days, figured out I might not be here when she gets back. (I probably will be, but maybe not for long.)

"That's why I pushed for a mini-Corona night before you left." I shrugged. "I just didn't want to guilt you into it." 

Deb jutted her hands to her hips. "You should have guilted me!" 

And then she went into how I'd make friends where ever I went. As if that's my problem with leaving here. Nope, I want to keep the friends I've already made close by. I already left people I love in Arizona. I don't want to do it again. But that's a future-me challenge. Or, maybe Marty will find a job which allows him to work remote.