Road Trip

A Polliwog on the beach

The Sunshine crew took a minor road trip yesterday. We went to Daytona Beach. As road-trippy as that might sound, Daytona Beach is about 25 miles away. In fact, as the crow flies, I live closer to the ocean than I do to any major theme park. 

     A future beach bag or two. 

While we were in the area, I wanted to check out an upholstery fabric store. I'm looking for water resistant fabric to try my hand at making a beach bag or two. We hit up the Buc-cee's because... reasons. We also made it to Trader Joe's. I must say, it was a great experience to actually go into a Trader Joe's and not stock up on five of everything.* 

Of course, it didn't feel right to go to Daytona Beach without a visit to the ocean. None of us felt like hanging out on the beach too long, but we walked a bit, enjoying the lack of tourists. There are a few galleries, museums and quilt shops I hope to check out in the area. So, I'll be back. And if I can go without the young adults, I can skip the Buc-cees.  

*I'm realizing how differently I shopped in rural Texas and how mainstream it became. A trip to a big city: Little Rock, Dallas or Shreveport once every five-six months and stock up on much better priced meat, spices, and the more unusual items we like. The prices were always much cheaper, leaving us to buy milk and bread locally--which were about $1.00-$2.00 more expensive in Texarkana. The produce at the grocery store wasn't great either, but fortunately, I had connections to better quality veg. I didn't mind the lifestyle and it was nice to go out of town with a family member or a friend for the day to get the shopping done.  

Arbitrary DeBary

Sandhill cranes live across the street. Its fun to see them, not hear them. However, aside from a couple of cottontails, a hawk and an unfortunate snake sighting from late July, that's about all the wildlife I've encountered. I've been told there's a lot more out there--including several neighborhood bear sightings. 

***

We don't have kitchen chairs. I have zero idea what happened to them in the move. They weren't left behind. They didn't arrive in Florida. If you happen to be driving along Interstate 10 and see six farmhouse chairs on the side of the road, hit me up. 

Oh yes, I'm also waiting for the rest of my dishes because they also didn't make it to Florida and I bought half a set last week and got a rain check for the rest of it. 

***

I cannot explain this, but I'm having to sleep under a wool blanket at night. Our AC is set reasonably high, so it isn't that we are freezing ourselves out. It is just cold in the house at night. 

***

Our unpacking is at an impasse. We are waiting on flooring for two rooms before we finish unpacking those rooms. At that point, we'll get furniture for the empty rooms. We are waiting for one cabinet from Amazon AND the hardware for another cabinet (the seller keeps asking which hardware we need and I keep responding, "ALL OF IT.") before we can finish unpacking the kitchen. 

***

The Fur Mafia is having a field day exploring the new house and all of the half-opened boxes ("Any idea where the air fryer/purple towel/Dad's socks/frisbees happen to be?" "Check that box over there."). They both want to go outside, but the hawks are laying in wait. So are the bears. They are making the best of their incarceration. 

The Murder Mystery Book Club

After a bit of tomfoolery, the Murder Mystery Book Club had its first meeting. The tomfoolery was brought to you by Victoria, the group's founder, who did not realize when she told us to meet at the Dunkin Donuts on Howland Boulevard there was more than one location. When the majority of us went to the wrong one, we were unapologetically directed to drive another 15 miles to her location. 

Anyway, Victoria started this entire group. She's a severe woman who just turned 80 and has lots of rules and opinions. One of her edicts was to set the five of us down and explain how book clubs work. 

HOW BOOK CLUBS WORK

• This would be a murder mystery book club. 
• All books must have 300 pages or fewer.*
• There'd be no chit-chatting until after our meeting was over, because we'd be focusing on what we read.** 
• The person "hosting" the book club (location to be determined) would be responsible for finding and distributing the books for the next book club. 

Which brings me to Victoria's opinions. I pushed back on one person finding six copies of next month's book, driving all over the county to hunt down the book club member to ensure the woman received her copy. "That's how book clubs work," she insisted. "I think we are all grown adults. We can find our own book." I countered. This is a hill I'm willing to die on. I won't be responsible for another's participation in a voluntary event.  

Apparently Victoria has never been challenged on anything in her life and did not appreciate my mutiny. But with the other four on board, I won--though, come to think of it, I could have distributed copies of The Redeemed (which is a murder mystery***) and forced them to read that.  

Victoria also stated that "there wasn't enough time" to read a book for September, so therefore, we'd start in October. One of the more timid women whispered to me, "But, there's three weeks left in September." And I pointed this out to the rest of the group, suffering Victoria's glare. But I did acquiesce, perhaps we could meet October 1 if that would give everyone enough "time" to read our first book. 

What I found as the meeting went on was that the other four were whispering to me when they didn't agree with Victoria, expecting me to be the mouthpiece. I didn't mind. It's going to be my book club too (at least that's the current plan). I suspect we'll all find our place. I just didn't want to be responsible for scouring the planet for someone's book when they can go to the library and get their own book club book. 

The Thursday Murder Club is the first book. Oops. It just so happens it has 364 pages.  

Now then, I am making Victoria out to be a bit of a dictator. She was. And me being the youngest in the group did nothing to work into her good graces, but she'll get over it. Or she won't. (I don't know why she made a big deal about my age, but she stopped the conversation and said only to me, "How old are you? 45?" And when I shared my age, she accused me of fibbing.) But she also took feedback from the lovely--LOVELY--group of ladies and once she calmed down, Victoria was quite pleasant, interesting and funny. I made sure to thank her profusely for putting this together, which seemed to soften her up. I also started a group chat, which wasn't too difficult but the rest of them seemed impressed. 

Lest you think this was an unpleasant experience, it wasn't. It truly was a lot of fun. However, I noticed my social meter was in overdrive and it took more than a quiet hour watching the rest of the Diamondback's game to reset. I've met many Victorias. She moved here in the past year from New Jersey, then lost her husband. She wants friends and connections and doesn't know how to go about doing it. My personal feeling is that the group will form organically and whatever unreasonable expectation Victoria wants will would be mutinied by everyone else over time so that this will be everyone's murder mystery book club. 

*Most murder mysteries are more than 300 pages because of the nature of the genre. 

**Riiiigggghhhhtttt. Tell a group of women they can't "chit-chat" and see what happens?  

***I didn't mention I write books. 

Speed Dating Churches

One of the many aesthetics
at the Alliance Church

Our neighbor, Karen, (that's really her name, and she's delightful!) invited us to her church. She went as far as to call a few folks, and tell them to be on the lookout because it was a holiday weekend and she's out of town. That's okay. I really didn't want to be led by the nose while Karen introduced me to 36 strangers. 

Intricate stained glass
above the stage/pulpit.

So, Buck and I went to the Alliance church. I have mixed reviews. Neither of us are interested in a rock and roll church, which this one is. We found out it was "hymn Sunday" which meant standing for a half hour, singing while electric guitars and a keyboard accompanied us. It was also "Communion Sunday," which, to these two Catholics was unheard of--as Communion should be every Sunday. 

On the plus side, the people were nice and the pastor's message was interesting. They also offer a book club, an active young adult group and a few other interesting community options. So, there's that, but there was no Texarkana Church of Christ energy. 

Buck is looking to make friends. I asked at the Catholic church if there was a young adult group (there is not). So, this is why we ventured out. I'm not sure this is the place for me. Buck's on the fence and said he'd get back to me. However, the rock and roll vibe was a bit much for both of us. Fortunately, about three others around here have also invited us to their churches. 

Settling In

Across the street. And not bears. 

We slept in our own beds in our new house last night. Though we are still tripping over boxes and what-not, it was a fabulous experience to be surrounded by the familiar. In fact, to celebrate our new dwelling, there might have been some cat shenanigans around 2 a.m. that included a race around the master bedroom, ending with the two jumping onto the bed and rolling around my feet until they were summarily removed from the room.

Oh yes! There was also Luna growling and barking at the top of her lungs around 3 a.m. like zombies were attacking. I told her to go back to sleep and hoped there wasn't a snake outside. Today I discovered bears live nearby and like to patrol. They have zero qualms about jumping the fence into the back yards. Bears. BEARS! Somehow snakes aren't as scary. 

So sweet!

So far the neighbors are friendly and fun. I'm told by several folks this is a great street to live on. There are a lot of kids around here--which I love. This past weekend, cute twin boys (probably age 7) brought us chocolate chip cookies. We intend to return the plate and the favor with something homemade--once we get our house up and running. 

Speaking of getting the house up and running--I'm single-handedly keeping Amazon afloat by purchasing cheap storage containers, trash cans and curtains. Lowe's sent out a wellness check expedition because they hadn't seen me in 25 hours and obviously something must be wrong. Surprise! We'd gone to a different Lowe's the day before. This did not bode well for the three folks--all I'm on a first-name basis with--whom missed me terribly. I felt like I was two-timing on my Lowe's location. And let's not forget, Capital One! Their CEO thanked me for my generous contribution to his child's European Study Abroad program this semester. 

I have my first play-date next week. I answered an ad in the Next Door ap from a woman who is starting a murder-mystery book club. We all meet next Monday to discuss how to set this up and what to read. Though I'd love to be self-serving and suggest Elaina Harper's latest book (coming out September 22), I'll let that pass. My last book club didn't even know I wrote books for the first two years I was in it. 

Moving Cross Country Day 47,001,936

Our worldly possessions.

Oh, this has to end soon. Right? RIGHT?!!!

Our Uboxes, which were promised to us for Monday, August 31 arrived today. And that is the most wondefulist of news. However, 7 Uboxes don't fit easily on my driveway and therefore one Ubox is kinda on the sidewalk. So, let's add this to another of the HOA infractions I'm sure are stacking upon us. The earliest these boxes can be picked up is Monday. 

One of the really great parts about living here is that Amazon comes overnight. In Texarkana, "Amazon Prime" meant anywhere from two days to a week. I got used to it. Today I received Luna's ear medicine, shelf paper, a cat box mat and shelves for under the bathroom sink before I even woke up. 

The handyman we hired is awesome. He has a mildly autistic son who is helping him. Unfortunately, son is extremely meticulous and goes at his own pace. Though I don't mind this too much, I do need to set up my bedroom this weekend. So, I'm not giving too much leeway for the painting. And honestly, if I had a ladder available, I probably could have done this myself. But my time has been better spent, cleaning the place (the former owners are pigs) and running up the credit card. 

After two days of cleaning, the house is feeling more like my home. I'm making landscaping plans for the front yard--like removing the rogue palm tree growing in my hedge. I've put in shelf paper and made plans for each drawer. I believe Marty and the Young Adults have opted to install a "coffee bar" by the kitchen table, because I'm not willing to part with counter space. 

Though we are still discovering some of the home's eccentricities, of all the houses we saw, nothing is making me regret this purchase. It was the best of the bunch. Also, we've been told by every stranger with an opinion, that the City of DeBary is the best of the locations around here. 

And even when I start feeling pissy and selfish about the move, our new house and some of our challenges, I look at my text messages and count my blessings. Corona Jenny is currently hospitalized. She's had three heart procedures in four weeks. Now, she's back in the hospital and she's scared. The notes to Jenny going around today were sweet and heartbreaking. Corona Suzy, Little Miss Hates Me (she really does), Corona Cindy and Corona Sherry all went to stay with Jenny. I sent my own private message as well. It puts my life in perspective. 

The eventual office/sewing room.
It's purple! Squee!!!!!!

Great room. Couches are in the Uboxes.

Corona Ruthie gave me that welcome sign. 

Lots of Heavy Sighing

A friend, who is a former ex-pat, once told me when she moved back to the US, every purchase decision she made carried the same weight as if she were buying a toaster. At the time, I found that fascinating. When I moved to Texas, I understood exactly what she meant. And now I'm living it again. 

I'm making buying decisions from ceiling fans to mops. Every decision lasts a maximum of four seconds. The decision consists of a heavy sigh (two of those seconds) and pointing to my preference based on color, style or price.   

Yesterday I picked blue paint for soon to be not-black bedroom walls. The only white walls to test out the colors were in the closet. I also put the blue paint samples on the black walls. Neither sample looked great in either setting. But I also realize both look better than the black. So, I sighed and pointed to one of them. If I have regret over my choice, I'll change it later. Or I won't.  

I've spent way too much time at Lowe's and WalMart, sighing and shoving stuff into my shopping cart. We spent half of Serbia's GDP on cleaning supplies yesterday--the seller's left us a going away present of a filthy home. I also bought a broken ceiling fan (returned and replaced), a toilet and industrial vinegar for weed control. There are still lots of other decisions to make: dishes--ours were left in Texas--shelf paper, a vet to treat Luna's ear infection, drivers licenses, bank accounts, desk chairs, trash cans, and a toaster. 

Florida Life

The only home
purchase I've made. 

We've been in Florida since Friday and done very little. That's okay. Our nervous systems are shot from the past month. Or, at least mine is. This is down time while we wait for our furniture to arrive. 

Some day I'll write about my last week in East Texas. Or, I won't. Everything from the last Corona night to the card Tessa gave me was extreme in its own way. Plus, I'm shocked at the number of text messages I've gotten since we moved. Folks just saying hello. I appreciate all the kindness. 

But, back to Florida. 

The young adults go out every day, exploring. Yesterday they found an ice cream shop and an Irish Pub. Buck has also found every gym in town and managed to wrangle a trial membership to one of them. Polly and I also breezed through the Hobby Lobby, looking at decorating ideas for her bedroom. We walked through the aisles marveling, like crazed tourists. By the way, I'd forgotten how wonderful a FULL SIZED Hobby Lobby is! Yep, a mini-Hobby Lobby is a thing. And not a good one. 

Yesterday, we had our final walk-through on the new house. The young adults were more excited than I thought they'd be. They agree the master bedroom must be painted asap. I mean, who paints a bedroom black? Yesterday we also brought over a bag of sulphur and Marty liberally sprinkled it around the back yard, while I pointed out inches of space he missed. I'm just doing my part to ensure the snakes go elsewhere. 

Today we close on the house. Afterwards, we'll get to work painting and doing all sorts of things. And this lull will be part of our history. 

Moving Cross Country Day 2,908,671

I'm sitting in an Air B&B in Debary Florida. Or, DeBary. Not sure which spelling yet. After two days of driving, we arrived last night. I'm tired and not ready to process much else. However, I have to read 6 tons of papers that need to be signed for the closing of our new home. That's about all I have right now. 

A Surprise Send-Off

I'm a bit floored by the phone call I received today. It was the pastor of the Church of Christ. I knew he has my number (and e-mail). He knows my name. He knows Marty Sunshine. We've texted before about random things. I think the world of his wife too. But I've always just assumed I'm just someone in the congregation. 

Anyway, the pastor called because he wanted to know if lunch was an option tomorrow. Not just the Sunshines and him, but his wife and a few others who know us. Yes. Lunch sounds great--and not only because every pan here on Arizona Avenue is packed. The gang getting together makes me laugh. 

Then he asked if the Sunshines would like to come up to the front, during Chruch have the elders surround us and pray over Marty and I. His other option was to mention we were leaving from the pulpit, and and wish us well. I went with option two, lest we scare off Marty and Buck, who both plan on coming. And honestly, I am not someone who wants to stand in front of a bunch of folks and be surrounded by elders praying over me anyway. 

Not gonna lie, I broke down during our phone call, overwhelmed by the extension of friendship. This is how amazing this church is. Friendly. Positive. It speaks volumes that three Catholics from the same family attend voluntarily--though only one of the three goes regularly. This isn't a small church. On any given Sunday, there's about 400 people in the pews. I'm not friendly, but I'm not standoffish either. But I honestly never expected anything like this. And I assure you, nothing like this happens in a Catholic church.  

All Grown Up

 

2006

2010

Pollywog is 26 today. Hard to believe this sweet thing is so grown up. At one time she'd discuss the finer points of chocolate candy. Now, she's talking about a restaurant in Florida she heard of where she and I can order chocolate martinis. 

It is also my youngest brother's birthday. He's 53 today. 

Moving Cross Country Day 19,111

You get the idea. 

Yesterday I realized I forgot to tell folks we were moving. I mean, I strategically mentioned the whole Florida-thing at church a few Sundays ago, knowing the word would get around. I thought that would be enough. 

But it wasn't. There are folks in Texarkana who don't go to this church--or any other church who hadn't heard. So, I posted on the ole' Facebook. Word got out. I'm overwhelmed by the kindness of others. 

***

We have a few logistics issues that, had I not been a former real estate agent, we would have been blindsided by. The biggie being how sellers sign over the deed for their home. 

I thought sellers just came in and signed when it suited them. Not in Texas. Here, it's a big party the day of closing, where the buyer and seller get together and sign all together. And according to the small minded, inflexible  escrow officer there's no other way to do this--even if the seller will be in, say...Florida? the day of closing. This has caused a huge cluster of crazy. Fortunately, the escrow officer in Florida stepped up (also agreeing that that has to be the stupidest thing either of us has heard of) and is willing to help get us signed so we can close on our new house and not be in breach of contract. 

What gets me is that nobody bothered to mention this until I reached out to escrow and tried to make an appointment to sign. I was told no. I explained the situation and was still told no. I offered to find a power of attorney who'd sign on my behalf. That was a "hell no." (because title officers are lazy and just don't want to deal with the paperwork) I have to sign--no matter what--on the day of closing. 

The unfortunate result of this is we are leaving another day early to meet with the Florida escrow officer, around her schedule. 

***

In other news, I have two good-bye food dates today (soup!) and two good-bye food dates tomorrow. I'm tired of eating. And I'm really tired of saying good-bye. It is emotionally draining and I'm overwhelmed by the kindness of others. 

Moving Cross Country Day 9,871:

Today we made significant progress packing and loading the Uboxes. Though we aren't leaving for another week and half, no matter! The beds and lamps are already snuggly stowed away. I'm sitting on my mattress, which is on the floor, writing this in the dark. Marty and I are taking bets on how many animals will decide they need to sleep with us tonight. I'm voting for zero, but my educated guess is at least two. 

Polly is house-sitting on a farm outside of New Boston Texas for the next week. She's come back to help when summoned, but overall would prefer to stick to her edge of the world. Buck has a week left at work. 

Yesterday, Polly came into town to help me schlep the Overlords to the vet so they would be current on their shots before we left. We also bought three months' worth of medicine for Luna so I wouldn't have to speed date vets the day I arrived. By the way, I am doubling down on my number of pets in the bed. Roosevelt will definitely be here, smothering me in my sleep for taking him to see Doc P. yesterday.

Speaking of Doc P., he is looking for a vet for us who can handle Luna's delicate immune system. I'm gonna miss Doc. 

Tomorrow we are hoping to make it through a bit more packing and loading--barring the weather. Thunderstorms stymied our progress today. 

Oh yes, still thinking about David, his wonderful wife and poor daughters. Probably will for a long while. I did talk with Bonus Dad. He's going to risk flying to Chicago for the funeral. Because I'm in the middle of this crazy, I won't be going, but I'd like to. 

It's All I've Got

Around 3 a.m., I wrote a mental essay about grief that I thought I'd get around to posting later in the day. I had comments about grieving leaving East Texas and the lovely people I've met. Grieving the so-called friends who've taken the time to eloquently tell me everything wrong about me, my life choices and my children. Grieving the wonderful real friends I've made. And Grieving David, who's passing is so raw to his family and me, I can't shut off the tears long enough to call Bonus Dad. 

Instead, all I've got is this: grief sucks.  

Today's News

 

David is now hanging out with his mother and little sister

Bonus Mom and Dad's son, David, suffered a massive heart attack yesterday. He didn't wake up. As for me, I'm walking around like a zombie, mired in grief. 

David is the reason I know Bonus Mom and Dad. And for that alone, I'm thoroughly grateful to him. 

For forty years, he'd been a great friend in many happy and dark moments. He'd been encouraging me for years to buy a place on the Lake so our families could spend our summers together.  David leaves behind a wonderful (WONDERFUL!) wife and two equally terrific teenaged daughters. Though my heart is hurting, I can't imagine what kind of hell they are going through right now. 

Public Service Announcement

Pro Tip: If you ever feel the need to give me your two cents about my life and what you think of the choices I've made, please feel free to keep it to yourself. I didn't ask. I'm not twelve. I'm a grown woman who can think for herself. I'm willing to part ways with "friends" who feel called upon to share their unsolicited opinions about my life, my marriage and my adult children. 

It's Official

 

Marty and I have spent a week looking for a new place to live. Well, we've actually spent months in analysis, conversation and discernment figuring out where we wanted to live. I wanted a small town vibe. He wanted a place where there's more chance for employment. When we came to Florida in May, we found a few areas. When we came this week, we (finally) found a house. 

We are moving to DeBary, Florida. The place is part of the greater "Deltona, Daytona Beach, Deland, Debary Metro" area (yes, really). DeBary is half way between Orlando and Daytona Beach. The population is 22,000--but the entire metro area population is closer to the size of Mesa or Tucson. Because of the bottleneck into the Orlando area caused by waterways, DeBary feels like it's on the outskirts of town instead of Orlando/Sanford adjacent. I'm totally okay with that. So far, the people are friendly. The area is clean. Oh yes! They have a dinosaur named Clayton. 

What I've Learned This Week

1. I'm not a patient person. 

2. I'm not at my best when I'm on the verge of homelessness. 

3. Marty is a patient husband and a better person than me. 

4. I've seen every floorplan imaginable since 2003. I can walk into a home and instantly know if it will work. I shop for houses the way I shop for toasters. 

5. I decided on Monday which house I wanted. Marty decided Tuesday. The offer was written. It's Friday morning and I'm told the sellers "will sign it soon." 

6. I have no desire to live in this hotel any longer. And, if they don't "sign soon." I'm probably going to be in this hotel for another four days. 

7. See bullet item 2. 

Our Random Wednesday

While waiting for the sellers to get back to us on our offer (still waiting as I write this), we did a bit of Goodwill hunting. You see, I have a pyrex mixing bowl set. The 9" bowl went to its Great Reward after a row with gravity. I've been trying to replace it for the past year. Though I could buy a brand new one online, I haven't because I don't trust the delivery folks in Texarkana to safely deliver a glass bowl. 

Anyway, Marty and I have been scouring thrift stores in multiple states on the Great Bowl Hunt. I've found 12" bowls and 4" bowls, but never my treasured 9" bowl. And to be fair, I didn't realize how much I used that particular bowl until I didn't have it. 

While killing time yesterday, Marty and I wandered into a Goodwill. He said to me, "If there's a bowl here, it must be a sign you are destined to move here." 

A bowl for me and a spare for Gravity. 

My mother sent me another snake text. She sends them often. I feel confident she won't be coming for Thanksgiving this year. 

I'll Mention This to Mom Later

An example of the random snake texts Mom sends me.

I don't like snakes. I get this from my mother who continues to send me wild text messages, chronicling every snake adventure she's ever had or thought about having. None of them, mind you, has ever resulted in anything other than seeing a snake. As I pointed out to her, she's made it 80 years and never been bitten. She's winning. 

Anyway, Mom wants to move to Florida (I'm lobbying for her to live near my brother in Boca Raton) but the thought of a snake is enough that she's hesitating. Okay, who am I kidding, there are a lot of reasons for her hesitation, but she only talks about snakes being around every corner as her latest reason. 

Yesterday, I felt compelled to send her an unsolicited text: "I've been here three days and haven't seen one snake. I think you'll be safe." 

And then, as if I jinxed it, twenty minutes later, I was inspecting the back yard of one home we were looking at, and out slithers the longest black snake I've ever seen. To its credit, it slithered under the fence and away from the property. However, as a public service, my scream warned everyone in a 500 mile radius the damn thing existed while Marty said to our agent, "Well, we won't be putting an offer on this house." 

Actually, we are putting an offer on this house. But I'm reserving the snake story to share with my mother at a later time. 

It Can Only Go Up From Here

Marty and I arrived to our final destination today and began stalking the homes we've picked out. My absolute favorite that I'd fallen in love with, is a complete dud. And let me just say, the realtor's photographer did an outstanding job of hiding the gross neighborhood. 

Tomorrow we head out with our agent to look for our next home. Marty is asking me to be optimistic. I'm ready to pivot. In the interest of marital harmony, I'm optimistically ready to pivot. Marty is optimistically ready to leave me in a swamp. I can't say I blame him. I'm tired of me too. 

I did find this sign as we were driving around through one neighborhood. 

 

A Week in the Sunshine Life

Roosevelt, having opinions.
This suitcase is on top of our unacceptable bedspread, Tessa covered up with her "acceptable" one.  

This past week: 

Sunday: we had a good-bye party for Sherman, who is starting law school in Washington DC.

Monday: we had an accepted offer on hour house and planned on leaving for Florida on Wednesday. Polly helped Sherman pack his apartment and take care of this and that. 

Tuesday: we no longer had an accepted offer on our house and I raced over to Buckaroo's job to tell him not to quit just yet. He said, "Does that mean you will be home Thursday? I'm only asking, because I planned a party because I didn't think you'd be home." I helped Valerie in her sewing class.  

Wednesday: we accepted another offer. Marty and I spent the day staring at homes and trying to figure out where in Florida we wanted to live. Polly helped Sherman get his belongings together. 

Thursday: In order not to infringe on Buck's party, and the fact Sherman and Polly would soon be parting, we took off for Natchitoches Louisiana. It's two hours away and we needed to reset from the crazy week.  It was a French fort back in the day, before the Louisiana purchase and the area is chock-full of interesting history. Polly helped Sherman finalize his move. 

Friday: We came home to the aftermath of Buck's party--a few pizza boxes, a bag of stale chips, and a very full trash can. We also heard from Polly, who was doing a quick turnaround trip with Sherman to Atlanta to visit his folks before turning North towards Washington DC. I went to Corona night, ate way too much sugar and laughed like I'd never laughed before. I got home at 11:30, after coming in third in Mexican Train. Oh yes! I finalized my book. The Redeemed comes out September 22, because why not launch a book in the middle of another major life event? 

Saturday--today: I got up around 5 a.m. Marty and I drove to Quincy Florida, where I'm writing at this moment. Marty is watching some Spiderman movie. Polly is back from her turnaround trip, as she flew into Shreveport today, and a friend picked her up and took her back home. Buck assures me the Overlords are fine and he isn't planning on having a party tonight. I've talked to my Florida real estate agent and we have a game plan for Monday.

I'm tired. 

A few Natchitoches pictures. The last two are Fort Jean Baptiste. A very interesting place, which was settled in the 1700s. 

My Coronas

I sent a note out on Tuesday, saying I wouldn't be at Corona Night. We had a contract on the house and Marty and I were leaving Wednesday to Florida to buy a home. 

Messages poured in. Love notes about how much they would miss me. And how could this really be happening? The text messages were the kind of friendship a girl could ever ask for. Their notes made me feel happy, loved and wanted. 

Then Tessa called and said something along the lines of "Remember that offer? Well, it is no more." 

About that time, Corona Krissy chimed in with a private message about how much I mean to her and how she'd miss me, not only at Corona Night but in general. So I told her we no longer have a deal, I just didn't feel like updating about how life had changed. Krissy asked me if she could do it for me. So, she did. It just said, I'd be at Corona night because I'd just gotten word the deal fell through. 

Tuesday afternoon, just about every Corona reached out to me, offering me love and support. Some notes were private. Some were public on the group thread. All messages were kind and made me feel happy, loved and wanted. It was all the friendship a girl could ever ask for. 

Valerie's Beginning Sewing Class

So my friend Valerie is teaching a sewing class. She is on week two and has 10 students. Normally she has six. In an effort to get out of my home, I offered to come hang out in her class and answer a question or two. That was the theory. The reality was she had 10 Gen Z students, who were expecting Instagram-worthy outcomes on their second day of class. 

Cami latched on to me and was afraid to make a move unless I hovered nearby. Though she is very sweet, it wasn't realistic because there was only one of Valerie and nine others who were having troubles of their own. 

But Cami was nothing compared to the 20-something girl who walked in with a crappy attitude, which screamed, "I am in hell and don't want to be here!" My first thought was, "You are here. You paid for this class? Why?" The girl asked, "What do I do?" I prompted her to thread her machine. "I don't know how." She replied and folded her arms. "Get out your thread..." I started, pointing at the spindle where the thread goes. With all the attitude of a preteen girl who'd spent the night at a friend's house, she complied and rolled her eyes. She asked, "Now what?" And yes, it went like this, step by step, with this grown-ass uncooperative woman rolling her eyes at every instruction. 

Anyway, this chick started out as a nightmare, full of vinegar. At one point she said, "I'm having a bad day." And oh boy! Was that not the moment to say that to me*. I gave her a rundown on MY day and all of the sudden this brat softened her stance. By the time I got back to her after dashing over to Cami who needed a pat on the back, the girl had managed to figure out how to sew the first part of her pillow case. And when I told her she did a great job, she turned into a whole different person. It is interesting that both of these young women were so anxious about sewing and handled it so differently. 

There were eight others in various levels of learning who had questions and needed assistance. We covered them all in two and a half hours and congratulated every one when they completed the project. Everyone other than Cami finished their pillow case before class ended--but Cami has promised to send me a photo when her pillow case is done.   

*I had a really, really BAD day. 

Looks Liike I'm Gonna Miss Next Week's Corona Night

72 hours into this tedious task.

We got an offer on our home. That was the plan, right? We are told we are getting a second offer. Of course an "offer" doesn't mean we are accepting what the buyer is asking for and hopefully the second offer will be a bit more attractive. But, oh my! After three showings, this is certainly news. 

I'm trying to be excited. Instead, I'm sitting in Polly's room--she has the only desk in the house that isn't in storage--working on a few formatting edits (hyphenations mostly), ignoring the world around me. I need to get these edits done because Marty and I, once we accept an offer, need to high-tail ourselves to Florida to go house-shopping. In truth, I doubt even if I wasn't working on these edits that I'd be excited. 

The rest of the family can be excited for me.  

Small Town Facebook

This is so sweet. What's even cooler is the number of responses this person got. All positive. All helpful. I hope the person posting finds her delivery driver. 

Our Home on Arizona Avenue

The house is on the market. As of the time I'm writing this, we've had one showing. Welcome to a soft housing market in a small city. 

To commemorate the tidiness of our home, here are a few pictures. Mind you, I doubt we can keep up this level of declutter (we do keep the place clean). But I thought I'd let you see what the magic of camera filters can do. 

Our grass really is this green, thankyouverymuch.

This originally was earmarked as my sitting room. However, Buck used it as his man-cave up until last week. I'm sitting in that chair right now typing this up because my desk is packed.

Oh, and that green table? Buck refinished it last winter. He's very proud of it and we like it.
I fought Tessa to keep it in the house. That's also my Dad's stained glass lamp on top of it. The table on the other side of the chair was also one of my refinishing projects. 

For the record, that fire is photoshopped. The table in the forefront is solid walnut, and yep, refinished.

I hate that backsplash.

Polly is housesitting for Tessa this week. She brought back the bedspread. 

The greenhouse looks so small. The yard is pretty large. And the grass really is that green thankyouverymuch. 

The Coffee Shop Crawl

Deb had never been to the Stained Page. How this happened, I have zero idea. So, I met her Friday morning at the best coffee shop/book shop in town. Don, the owner, greeted me (adding to Deb's theory that I know everyone in town). He also told me I'd sold another book (squee!). 

I'm here a lot.

Anyway, Deb and I sat and visited. For me, I hadn't been out of the house much for anything memorable in weeks. The packing the house had been priority. But spending time with Deb is always special. I know it's coming to an end soon, but I'm trying not to think about that. 

After enjoying my tea and she enjoying her coffee, we made our way a quarter mile to Good Luxe, another local coffee shop. We just breezed in, decided their selection and prices weren't for us and breezed out just as quickly. 

We didn't feel the vibe.

From there we went to the newest coffee joint in town. I don't know the name (it used to be called Alley Cats). This old time train car serves coffee and "food." However, they were out of coffee. We ordered a breakfast burrito plate to split. I asked for water and was told they don't "serve" water. So, I asked for a cup of ice. They do serve that. Deb looked at the beverage selections and opted for beer to go with her Mexican breakfast. She was disappointed on both fronts. First, she ended up with a non-alcoholic beer. And second "breakfast burrito" was a generous phrase for this lump of unacceptable grossness. I believe it is covered with soy cheese filled with mock-sausage. We ate about two bites and high-tailed it out, with my cup of ice in tow. 

Inside an old time train car

Toxic waste

After that atrocity, Deb and I walked around downtown. She showed me where the Woolworths used to be. And the JC Penny. And the first Dillard's Department Store* had been located. She told me of coming to downtown Texarkana as a teenager and a young adult, giving me town history and sharing her lore.  At some point, we meandered into a cute little gift shop. If I wasn't in the process of packing up my worldly belongings and if Marty wasn't out of work, I might have dropped a few bucks on another garden gadget. Probably. I mean, can one really have enough garden whirligigs?  

Downtown Texarkana (Arkansas)

As we made our way back to the car we made one final stop at Kilwins. They'd just opened up as well and were nowhere near as icky as the train car place. Kilwins is an ice cream and candy chain, with locations all over the South. I'd never heard of them before last Friday, but I had plenty of time to check them out while Deb shopped for gifts for a few Coronas who have birthdays coming up. 

There happens to be two locations in the Orlando area. So I've heard.

I've decided, when I grow up, I want to be just like Deb. 

*A word about Dillard's Department Store. The FIRST location was a small five and dime in Nashville Arkansas--about 50ish miles from here. Mr. Dillard wanted to expand, so he closed his Nashville location and opened a bonified department store in Texarkana. That was the flagship for his empire, which happens to have its corporate headquarters in Little Rock. 

Just a Day in the Life

What a day! After a master gardener event this morning, I met the Thursday lunch bunch at Jason's Deli. The ladies suggested many ways to make my house not sell, including they'd drive by and throw trash in my front yard. What a way to tell someone they'll be missed. 

When I got home, I stared at my ultra-clean house and sighed. Today is the last day before our home goes on the market. It's clean and all but Roosevelt cares about this. Roosey would rather eat the silk flowers Tessa brought over and knock the vases to the floor in protest. Not that I blame him. 

Anyway, after about thirty minutes of wandering around aimlessly, I convinced Marty to go on a road trip. We ended up in Idabel Oklahoma, which is about an hour away. I'd tell you it was a cultural excursion, but we'd both know I was lying. Idabel is a dump.

For those of you who love-love-love Oklahoma!
This is the "Welcome to Oklahoma" sign taken in Arkansas while driving 70 miles an hour.

Marty and I did find one thrift store, which did not have my 9" mixing bowl I'm trying to replace. I was told by the shop owner, what I'm looking for is "valuable" because it's pyrex (lower case). It isn't. I can replace the entire set of mixing bowls for less than $20 mail order. I only need one bowl. So, the the hunt continues.

We also wandered into a weird convenience store/fast food restaurant called, "Braums." I've heard folks in Texarkana rave about the place, waiting for one to magically appear in our town. However, I didn't understand the appeal with the overpriced groceries and a questionable-looking kitchen to cook a burger.  

I did find a place called "Mia's." Though we didn't stop, I did take a picture of the front and side and sent it to my pal, Mia*, telling her if the whole physician thing doesn't work out, it looks like she has a backup plan and it consists of Jesus and diabetes. 

Mia replied, "I like you, even if you are crazy and watch baseball." 

The side of Mia's Sweet Tooth 

After all our travels, Marty and I stopped by Big Jakes BBQ and bought an order of ribs. We made it home by 5 p.m., made a salad and ate dinner. 

 

*One of these days, I simply should write about my pal Mia, who I spend almost every Wednesday with. But not today. 

Staging

The house is more or less ready to be listed. I guess. Or I thought it was when I told Tessa to order the photographer. 

When I sold houses in Arizona, the rule was less is more. Declutter. Depersonalize. If you have pictures on the wall, it distracts buyers from looking at the features of the house. But, what do I know? 

Our décor style is minimal-eclectic. Most of this has been boxed and stuck in Uboxes. We bought new stuff 28 years ago. Since then we had gifted artist children, whose pictures (and photos) graced our walls. I've refinished several pieces of furniture, which we use. My children have quilts which were hand-made and live on their beds. Plus, my father was an accomplished stained-glass artist, and I have several of his lamps and this beauty that I love, and I would have done a lot of low and dirty things if my brothers even thought about claiming this for themselves when my father died. 

My Daddy made this.

Anyway, Tessa came over yesterday and decided our décor was too white trashy "abrupt" for buyers. "Abrupt" she explained would turn buyers off. For example, the table cloth on our kitchen table "makes the house look like old people live here." Or--hear me out--the table cloth hides the stained and scratched kitchen table. She brought over a table runner and jug to decorate our kitchen table. That table runner will not be on the table before we wake in the morning, because the Overlords LOVE playing under tablecloths when nobody is looking. I'm moving the jug to the counter. Oh yes! She also put an area rug under the kitchen table. Why? I don't know. Something else to vacuum.

Additionally, Tessa told me to buy more fruit for my fruit bowl, because it looks "too empty." I can't eat more fruit! I eat an apple a day, buying enough apples to fill the bowl would be another 10 day's worth of apples. Nope. 

She felt our bedspread needed to be changed out to bring "color" to our bedroom. Because, white and purple aren't colors, I guess. So, she brought us new bedding. Because colorful bedding sells houses. 

This hideous bedspread is being removed exactly
1.3 nanoseconds after the photographer leaves. 

She also insisted that Polly's quilt should be covered up, calling Polly's quilt "old lady" which totally pissed off my daughter. To Tessa's credit, she didn't have any comments about the lamp in her bedroom. 

Colorful but not as unsightly as my bed. But Polly wants her quilt.

To be fair, Tessa is a great agent. She sells more than anyone else in the area. She has great instincts. But I honestly don't think that adding throw pillows to my couch or grouping my lighthouse pictures on my wall and adding a nautical shrine to a corner of my house that never had, needed or wanted a nautical shrine really matters in a starter home in Wake Village. This isn't a Paradise Valley mega mansion. 

I'm not making this up. 
(excuse the paper towel roll)

The housing market is soft. I don't expect this house to sell very quickly. So, maybe adding fake flowers and white rolled up wash cloths in my bathroom (you know, for "color") will be what it takes to bring in a buyer.