The Piano Men

 

It's time we discussed the 1923 Banana Club. 

The 1923 Banana Club, or "Banana Club," as the locals call it, is a lounge/bar/music venue in downtown Texarkana Arkansas. The place got its name because it was in the basement of the Central Market back in the day. Produce from the trains (across the street) would come in and be stored down there. There are still the hooks where the bananas hung, lodged into the ceiling. 

Down those steps. If you know the code
(and have reservations) the entertainment is yours. 

The place is fashioned as a speakeasy, with the front entrance down a staircase and a secret code to enter. Allegedly this code is on their Facebook page, but I have yet to find it. Once inside, there's a small lobby--think the size of a modest walk-in closet--with a sliding door, letting patrons into a venue which probably seats 75. 

The vibe is secret hideaway meets frat party. The place is decorated with paraphernalia that might have been found in a speakeasy from 100 years ago, along with a ton of historic explanations. Most nights there's music--and there's a lot of great musical talent in the Ark-La-Tex area, which makes up for the terrible service (it's always terrible). The place is owned by a man I've never seen sober. I've often wondered if this is part of the act or he just has a bionic liver. But like most places around town, terrible service and inebriated owners don't define the experience. Nor does it lessen the fun. 

I took this picture Saturday night. Though you can barely make out anything with the lighting the way it is, there are instruments hanging off the wall. The lighting always looks like this.  

Saturday night a few of us went to see the Two Pianos guys who played for three hours (minus a 15 minute break). The audience sang along while they performed everything from Baby Got Back to the requisite Sweet Caroline. They took requests and nothing stumped them. 

One of the musicians happens to be married to our newest Corona. We sat in the front, which might have been a mistake for poor Debbie*, who was picked on all night by the two. Given this is the Bible Belt and they are part of the Church of Christ music leadership, the pianists were much more lude than I expected. 

Fortunately for them, the audience laughed--even Deb who was a great sport about everything. However at the end of the night, they did offer a public apology, pointing out they would be seeing those of us who sat at our table in church in a few hours. Another private apology followed before we left--this dude was sweating bullets!--along with a third apology the next morning before church. 

I'm still laughing. And honestly, so is everyone else. In fact, Deb was so popular, two guys who were about the age of Buckaroo came up to our table and invited Debbie to Wataburger on Stateline because she seemed like such a good hang. 

"You could be my great grandsons!" she exclaimed. 

"So are you coming?" they asked. 

She didn't. 

*To give you a snippet about what 70+ year old Church lady Debbie the Queen of Everything endured for hours Saturday night, after church yesterday I ran into Deb who wanted me to go to a bible class with her. I never go. She pushed. And then I said, "That song we sang a minute ago, wasn't it in the key of D? As in D for Debbie does Dallas?" 

She gave me a playful swat and said, "Bye. Have a good Sunday." 

Normalcy

With the Sunshine's plans in limbo for the moment, life in these parts has taken to a peaceful stasis. That's such a relief on the ol'e endocrine system. I'm personally hoping the more time goes by, a decision to stay for a few more years can be discussed. But I'm not optimistic as much as I am wistful. Marty could land a job at any time and change the trajectory of this bliss. Whatever the outcome, I'm okay. We are where we are for now. 

Because things are calming down, I'm looking at getting back into the master gardener program. I didn't take a hiatus because of Marty's lack of job, I took one because I felt like I was juggling too much, too often, and with conflicting purpose. I like the master gardeners. I like that they promote plants and understanding in the community. The people are mostly fun and the information is valuable. I'm pleased to bring this back into my life.

Right now as I write this, Marty is cooking pad tai for lunch. Roosevelt is at my feet attacking an elastic hair band from Polly's collection. Leon is attacking Luna's swishing tail. Later this afternoon, the Sunshines have plans for frisbee golf, board games and watching Diamondbacks' baseball. 

I like this level of normal. 

Celebrating Sherman

Sherman's family is in town this weekend and it has been one big party bonanza. Though there's only six of them, their energy feels like 60. Make no mistake about it, they they are wonderful. Even Buckaroo*, who tends to be standoffish (I have no idea where he gets that from) is getting into the action. 

Though Polly had met Sherman's family before, she was beyond nervous for this weekend's festivities. who could blame her when her dear boyfriend sent her a text message with a detailed itinerary, giving times and locations for everything from a group walk around Bringle Lake to Saturday's workout. I was overwhelmed looking at the list, yet marveling at the level of detail he put into his text. Fortunately I'm not his girlfriend and I'm not expected to socialize non-stop for three days straight. 

However, the Sunshine family did have their level of obligations for the hurrah. We joined the Sherman Clan (and Polly) for bowling Friday. Marty doesn't bowl. My high score is 39. Lucky for me, I sprained my wrist earlier in the week** and wasn't ask to defend my title as Worst Bowler Ever--this is a competitive bunch. Buck did partake in a game or two. Mostly, Marty and I sat around chatting with Sherman's delightful folks.

Sherman's younger sister and husband live in Birmingham Alabama. Some sadist let it slip that might know something about Birmingham. Sherm's brother-in-law is hopped up to hear the story. However, I told him I'd need a beer in me and a half-hour to tell the tale. Brother-in-law hoped Friday night's dinner would be the time. Bro-in-law began to sit next to me at the restaurant, but Sherman's mother--God bless her!--shooed him away, deciding SHE would sit next to her new bestie. 

Saturday morning, Marty, Buck and I (Polly is house sitting for Tessa), found our way to the weekend's main event. Lieutenant Sherman received his promotion and is now Captain Sherman! I'm pleased he had a pretty big Texarkana crowd, given it was a holiday weekend. We celebrated with him afterwards on catered Chick-Fil-A minis, chatting with everyone. There were pictures, and I was touched Polly was included in several. Sherman even wanted a pic with the Sunshine family! 

There's a bunch of other events today. But I'm staying home. I've already slipped into my sweats, gone to Lowe's and bought plants, and worked on my latest woodworking project. The Sunshine's presence is requested for dinner tonight. I'm psyching myself up to share the Great Alabama Tale, and looking forward to another evening of laughter and new friendship. 

Captain Sherman's Promotion Ceremony

*This is the first time since Buckaroo got this job 18 months ago, that he took time off from work. On a holiday weekend Saturday, no less! 

**Valerie and I were walking around downtown Wednesday morning and I tripped on the uneven pavement in a grand flourish. I managed to fall in two states because this happened on Stateline Road. Val did what any good friend would do, after figuring out only my dignity and wrist were injured, she laughed. Fortunately I got up before she could capture the moment and post it on all the socials.   

Pivoting

My mood

Well, here's a fine how-do-you-do? The house two doors down from us, which was for sale for $50,000 more than we were planning on listing our house for, just lowered their price to our rock-bottom price sales price. The house two doors down is bigger, has a third garage bay and a fourth bedroom. So, it would be like comparing apples and scissors. 

Marty jokingly suggested we buy the house two doors down, move in so we aren't so crowded, and make ours into a rental. I'm all for it. 

Anyway, we aren't going anywhere right now. We are leaving, just not right away. Of course life can change AGAIN at any time. But, whew!  

Petty Suffering in Introvert Hell

During my time in Texarkana, I'd successfully avoided the Church of Christ's Tuesday morning's lady's Bible class. Until Yesterday. I know my time here is almost over and I wanted to see if maybe, I'd missed out on something. 

I had and I hadn't. 

I knew 99 percent of the attendants by name. One hundred percent of those around me were positive and happy, gracious women. I love that about these people. They are truly beacons of light and joys to be around. 

This week happened to be Deb's turn to lead the class. She started by commenting that I showed up for the first time (because she made me) and knew the Scripture better than most everyone there. She isn't wrong, but I didn't want to show anyone up. Instead, I announced I was only there because Deb said I had to go and today I planned on practicing my best, "Southern Talk." You know, "Oh my!" "My word!" "Dear me!" "Heavens."* 

I should also like to point out that today's topic was Second Timothy Chapter 2, which is the best example of the pious Catholics walking among us who like to declare that proclaiming their personal petty martyrdom for the rest of us to relish in is akin to holiness (it isn't). I promise, a lot of my good story fodder comes from those who take Second Timothy Chapter 2 out of context. But that wasn't the audience for me to share this publicly. 

And to be fair, that's not what the rest of the ladies got out of today's class anyway. 

Here's where it got interesting. I was naïve in thinking that a one hour Bible class ended after one hour. Oh no! That's the warm-up. The Bible class is the gateway drug to fellowship. In this case, all 13 of us heading off to a leisurely lunch. I tried backing out of it (shooting eye daggers at Deb for neglecting this tid-bit, though come to think of it, "If two or more Church of Christ members are gathered, there is food."**). However, fun Corona Suzy nudged me to the restaurant and sweet (non-Corona) Sharon and I bonded over our hatred of mayonnaise and eggs, so I had to make a showing. 

Unfortunately, lunch lasted another two hours and I was ready to kill someone. As an introvert whose day was rearranged, it was best to smile and keep to Southern Talk. Thoughts of putting my pious Catholic suffering into practice came back as I suffocated under the love and fellowship of these great ladies. But honestly, THREE HOURS??? Out of my home! Out of my sweat pants! Away from my garden! This is hell on an introvert, whose biggest plans for the day included working on edits and petting the dog. 

Will I go back? I don't know. There's only a handful of classes before they break for the summer and I doubt I will be here come fall. However, in the event I ever decide to attend another Bible class, I'll be prepared for it to take all day.  

*"Bless your heart," that old reliable saying, would have been taken out of context in this situation. 

**Corona Gail says this often enough there's no disputing it. 

Saturday Morning with Tessa

 

100 percent accurate

In my second venture into the real world after this awful illness, I met with Tessa Saturday morning. Tessa, you might remember, was my real estate agent when I moved here. I worked for her for six weeks. As a consolation prize for hanging out in her office and dealing with the unholy shrews totally delightful women who worked there and welcomed me with open arms and didn't sabotage me a teensy bit, Tessa introduced me to the Coronas. 

Tessa also happens to be besties with Her Majesty, Queen of Life, Deb (who really is a true delight, unlike the majority of Tessa's horrible agents). Also for the record, Tessa is also pretty awesome and I really like her. 

Anyway, Saturday morning, Tessa needed to vent about her real estate woes. I listened like the friend I hope she considers me to be. Unfortunately, I understood everything she was talking about. The antics of her clients brought back enough PTSD that I have zero interest in ever thinking about selling houses again. EVER. Every story of clients thinking Tessa was some sort of concierge, lawn service (the woman is in her 70s) or dog babysitter made me laugh as I commiserated with the nuttiness of her situation.* **

When she finally breezed through all that, she looked at her phone and said, "I'm going to have to go in about five minutes." 

I countered with, "That's just enough time to tell you that you are listing my home in early June. And please let me be the one to tell Deb." 

Tessa wasn't surprised, but she was surprised if that makes sense. I've been alluding to this particular thing for months. Even Deb won't be totally surprised. (I did tell Tessa the reason Deb hasn't heard yet is I don't want to deal with the Deb-guilt. Tessa said, "Good luck with that."). Honestly, nobody should be surprised, though my pal Joy--who is my first local friend to get this news--took it pretty hard yesterday. She raised a leery eyebrow and asked, "So, you are saying you are moving in a year or two?" Um... no. 

Anyway, Tessa wanted to come over and "evaluate" what needed to be done. No deal. I told Tessa we have four adults, two cats and a senior dog living under one roof. Our house looks like we have three households and feline chaos living there. Before Tessa comes over and tells me to move a table to the other corner, I need to find the other corner. Unless she's got a buyer wanting a 20 year old starter home in Wake Village and will give us a long escrow, sit tight. We'll meet up again before she lists it. Maybe by then she'll have saner real estate stories to share with me. 

*Note to anyone thinking of buying a house: unless your seven year old is on the mortgage, he doesn't have a say in the property. Thank you very much. 

**Note to anyone thinking of selling a home: if your real estate agent says, "this cash offer is a good deal and you should consider it," please do and don't blame your agent if the next offer is $40,000 lower, takes a month to get, and is in line with the current market prices. 

In Other News

 

We're moving this summer. 

I don't know when or where exactly, though we have a few areas in mind (it will be somewhere in the Orlando area). No. Marty doesn't have a job at this time. But he's now concentrating his search to Orlando area and remote jobs.

It took some convincing that buying was better than renting with two cats and a senior dog, but I've managed. Today I spoke with a loan officer and started the preapproval process. Because of Marty's retirement, this is an option without him having current employment.  

This week, Pete the Painter came by and painted our outside trim. I also had him freshen up the bathrooms and the front door. Those were painted early in our time here  by--I'm not making this up--six meth-heads who camped in our home for four days. 

I plan on breaking the news to Tessa soon. She's going to be listing our home. When? Not sure. We can't list our house until we can get rid of about 60 percent of our personal belongings--some of which will be stored in Uboxes (like everyone's personal desk). After all, the house has to look like four adults, two cats and a dog can comfortably co-exist without tripping over everyone's stuff.  We have another teensy problem, we are expecting thunderstorms for the next two weeks and we can't get Uboxes delivered here (they come from Shreveport) until the rain subsides. This is life in East Texas. 

After I finish my edits for The Redeemed (coming later this year), I'll start working on filling the thrift stores with items to repurpose and posting all over Facebook Marketplace. But, that's next week's issue. 

This is Totally Rational

I've sworn since I moved to Texarkana, that the first snake I saw, I'd be high-tailing it back to Arizona. 

In the last four years, that statement has been amended to the first alive snake I saw on the Texas side. Because, the empirical evidence I currently have is only alive snakes live in Arkansas. I've seen my fair share in Arkansas. I've also seen my fair share of dead snakes on the Texas side.* 

Last week, during our drive back from Florida, somewhere in mid-Louisiana, in the middle of a huge thunderstorm where my phone was alerting me every three seconds of tornado warnings, Polly called Marty. She said, "Hey Dad, I just found a copperhead." After I finished exclaiming my displeasure, Polly said, "Oh... I didn't realize you were on speaker phone." 

Fortunately, Fate decided to riddle my immune system with all sorts of nastiness since we returned, so I haven't been outside in days. Marty swears the snake has now slithered back under two sets of fences and into the woods behind our house. He also swears he's put down sulpher--but it rained, so he will have to do it again. And, he swears he raked the leaves where Polly found the critter and did not find a copperhead, much less any other snake. However, I've noticed a shovel has been strategically placed in the garage. 

Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is on notice that I may be moving in. She's got my room ready. 

*I should add, last fall I found a harmless grass snake in my greenhouse. But: 1) I recognized it as harmless 2) there's currently enough sulphur spread out over the greenhouse floor that I'm pretty sure it isn't coming back. Probably. But my brother and sister-in-law are waiting anyway.  

Gotcha Day

A year ago Buckaroo brought us the Overlords. Leon and Roosevelt have been fun and chaotic additions to the Sunshine family. 

A year later, they are still maniacs. Leon still kills paper. Roosevelt still climbs everything--especially people in the middle of the night. They also extremely sweet. Leon will wrap his front legs in a hug-fashion around an unsuspecting person walking by. Roosevelt is so lovey-dovey and will purr with the smallest amount of attention from anyone, including Luna. 

Though brothers, they are about as different in size and personality as one can expect. However, they are extremely bonded, even to the point of crying for the other (also in the middle of the night). 

Roosevelt and Leon

Looks Like One (or More) of Those Coronas Must Have a Direct Line

This illness is lingering. It's taken its toll to the point where I accidentally "replied all" to an e-mail today and at some point I probably should care. Right now the best I can do is muster an "oops." 

Being this sick is so awful that, after six days, I broke down and asked the Coronas for their help with some Divine Assistance. Though I'm now answering 17,081 text messages instead of sleeping, the truth is, I'm starting to feel better. Looking back, I probably should have asked for prayers last Wednesday.  

For the record, there is no antibiotic for bronchitis. It just has to run its course. 

If you are looking for a good stock tip: whatever company makes Ricola sugar free cough drops. I'm on my third bag in six days. 

Back Home

Marty and I returned from our trip, on fire for changes to the Sunshine household. And ever since, I've been on fire with a fever and awful sore throat. Today I can sit. So there's that. Roosevelt and Luna are snuggling near me, taking turns giving me their healing love. Leon is busy killing a dust mite in the corner of the room. However, he came by, checked out the action on the couch and then decided the dust mite might have brethren who need conquering. 

Her Royal Majesty (Deb) called me today, wanting to see if I'd be healthy enough to go to tomorrow's funeral and Corona night. Right now, probably not. But I told her yes, anyway. I want to be with Corona Patty (and her family), who is burying her younger sister. Plus, Corona night... But honestly, I need a bit of Divine assistance if I'm going to be well enough to socialize tomorrow. 

Earlier today, Buckaroo called me from the store. He's got a board game afternoon planned at someone's home. The context he presented was that one of the newer members offered to host. He asked me if he should bring flowers for a hostess gift for the young woman hosting. Yes, this would be for board games with college students. I'm guessing he means for the flowers to be a banal gesture and not a romantic advance, so I told him a bottle of Dr Pepper would suffice. 

Before he left for his afternoon adventure, Buck came home and presented me with these, saying "Feel better soon. And, oh yeah... stay out of the garage until Sunday."

  

Perhaps the Divine assistance I needed. 

 

Small Worlds Colliding

I should preface this by saying I'm six states away from home. I should also preface this by saying Deb swears I know everyone. Everyone. I don't. 

So yesterday--six states away from home--I struck up a conversation at the local coffee shop with a woman. She's from Austin and we got to talking and I told her I live in Texarkana. She told me if I haven't found a "church home" in Texarkana, I really should check out the local Church of Christ. They are a dynamic bunch and about three years ago helped her out. She and a friend were coming back from Little Rock on their way to Austin.  They got stranded in Texarkana and called the local Church of Christ for help. "A really great couple" came to their rescue and put them up for the night. 

I finished the story for her, because I remembered when this happened and knew exactly who the couple was: Corona Gail and her husband. They still talk about this delightful woman and her friend who were stranded on their way to Austin. 

Vacation

Marty and I are on a vacation, unwinding and recharging our batteries. As I write this, he's emailing a company who is looking to hire someone with his skills. They reached out and asked some specific questions. 

Yep. We're just a fun couple, hanging out on a Friday night on our separate computers. 

Last Quilt Update for This Week (Probably)

On Thursday, Val, her adorable mother and mama's friend made it to the Event of the Season: Quilt Week. The big show happened in downtown Paducah Kentucky and apparently crazy people who play with fabric and those adjacent all made it to this four day event. We only went one day. But I assure you, there's enough to do and see to last four days. And honestly, one day was plenty for me.

By the way, I had better Mexican food in Kentucky than I ever had in Texarkana. I'm still letting that settle in. 

I'm tired, so y'all are just getting a few pictures. If you are the kind who doesn't look at the photos, I promise a few of these pictures are especially taken keeping in mind the three of you who read this. So, don't skip today. 

Sedona

RBG with the Dissent Collar
Can we please put our differences aside for a moment. Come on, isn't it cool a Supreme Court Justice has a quilt made in her likeness? 

The Paducah Tour

 On Wednesday, Valerie, her adorable mother and I headed to Paducah. Adorable Mama had some shopping to do at all the usual haunts--Hobby Lobby, T.J. Maxx, Home Goods. Valerie and I had another agenda. But first, we found the Wall. 

One of the mural pictures on the Paducah Wall

The Ohio River on the back side of the Wall. 

The Wall is an engineering marvel which spans about three miles along the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio Rivers. It was put in around 1940 after the 1937 Ohio River Flood destroyed a good portion of Paducah. About thirty-ish years ago, someone painted murals on the wall, telling the story of the area. 

After the Wall, we found our way to our true destination, the National Quilt Museum. Yep. It's a thing.

 The place was interesting--think art pieces on fabric. And though these were lovely to look at, I prefer quilts for their history and journey into greatness (Great-grandmammy made this quilt from leftover dresses and great-granddaddy's dungarees. She wrapped my memaw and her three siblings in it during the blizzard of 1903.). All that said, I'm glad I went this one time. Would I go back? Maybe if opportunity and Fate ever collide. 

When we were done with the Quilt Museum, Valerie and I headed to Hancock Fabrics of Paducah. This is the Mecca for fabric. Known by quilting enthusiasts everywhere, Hancock Fabrics of Paducah is two mega-warehouses worth of every known 100 percent cotton fabric print. I did find fabric for the quilt I want to make my nephew. Our life is about to change and I don't know if I'm going to get this quilt done before his birthday in June or if the fabric is going to live in my bathtub for the time being. 

Oh yes, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the other purchase we made: Valerie introduced me to moonshine. Our flavor: Apple pie. It did not go down smooth, but I sure slept well Wednesday night. 

A few choice Quilt Museum pictures below. And yes, all quilts. 

Cats on a Hot Tin Roof

This was my absolute favorite piece.

Murray Kentucky

Though it fits my criteria of a suitable place to live because it has more than one Dollar General, I'm not moving here. Though I would. In a heartbeat. This place is cute. 

I'm currently sitting in Murray Kentucky. The town of about 20,000 and the closest metropolis is Paducah, about an hour away. The town is home to Murray State University and the Fighting Murrays? Fighting Murrs? Fighting Rays? I have no idea. I looked at the list of notable folks from Murray and the only one I half-recognized was the eldest sister of Michael, Tito and Janet Jackson. 

I sent this picture to Sherman, who is currently in Washington D.C., looking for housing.
He starts law school in the fall. I suggested he try here instead. 

On Tuesday I drove eight hours and passed through five states to Murray to join my pal, Valerie and her adorable mother. Mama lives in Murray. This is "Quilt Week" in Paducah. Quilt Week is BIG in these parts. Allegedly people come from hither and yon to look at quilts, discuss all things quilting and pick up copious amounts of fabric. 

A quick comment about the copious amounts of fabric. I was in a fabric store yesterday, on the phone with Marty who said, "You have a bathtub full of fabric. You don't need more." I shifted to plants--we were heading to a plant store after the fabric store. He pointed out I don't need more of those either. There seems to be a large Venn crossover between quilters and plant hoarders.   

Anyway, back to Tuesday. I'd no sooner stepped out of my car when Val, her adorable mother and me packed our dinners and headed over to the Calloway County Extension office where the Extension Homemakers had their meeting. Thursday's topic? Food preservation. Quilts. And if you feel like you've read that before, you have. Val dragged me to a different Extension Homemakers meeting earlier in the month where the topic was quilts. 

Back to this meeting. There were forty folks there--all members--and me. (Valerie is a member of this one AND the one in Texarkana Arkansas.) Members brought quilts they were donating for a variety of charities: Veterans, children in crisis, cancer patients, dialysis. Also, members brought personal quilts and told the stories about them (A favorite story: "I made this for my baby girl in 1963, my great-granddaughter now uses it"). Oh yes! There was some sort of quilt contest where members voted on the best one. Adorable Mama won! Honestly it was a no-brainer, though she was surprised. 

This is Adorable Mama's quilt (her head is peeking out).
This quilt is a testament to my poor photography skills, because this quilt is gorgeous. 

They Are Back

It's turtle season. That means Luna is bringing us turtles from the back yard. 

Per our usual routine, we take a sharpie and write the number on the back before we release the critter into the front yard or down the street. Luna is currently working hard to beat her 2023 record of 10 turtles in one season. 

But seriously, where do these things come from?  

Sunday Morning's Visitor

I post too much about critters because East Texas has their fair share and it's slightly more interesting than writing about the weather. 

Anyway, look at this guy, scurrying along my fence yesterday morning, coming home from a long night of doing whatever these creatures do in the middle of the night. 

The picture really doesn't capture the size.
He's bigger than Roosevelt, our 10 pound house cat. 

The only reason I knew he was there was because Luna was outside and started barking her "critter bark"--its a thing. I was the only one awake. When I went to investigate, I dreaded what would happen if I had been an armadillo (they carry leprosy) or snake (nope). Gonna go out on a limb and say, I did not sign up for either. 

So there I was... Luna was barking up a storm and pushing the fence so hard I thought she'd either knock the dude or the fence down. Neither option made for a pleasant morning. As soon as the guy saw me, he froze in place, ensuring Luna jumped harder and barked longer. After sorting everything out, I dragged her inside. Wouldn't you know it! The possum struck this pose for about ten minutes while I watched, facinated, from the window. 

Oh yes, possums will also eat snakes, so I don't mind him hanging around. Even if Luna has other opinions. 

A Nothing Post

I just want to put this out there. 

Marty has another interview with another company next week. This will be two interviews in three weeks. 

Now then. There was a third "interview" with a third company. However, it consisted of Marty staring into his computer's camera, making a video about himself and answering a host of provided questions. He never spoke with anyone in person. In his assessment, he said he came across as a first-time podcaster whose only subscribers were his favorite aunt and mother.  

Though we aren't hurting for food and shelter, the lack of employment is affecting each of us in a variety of awful ways. So, if in your charity, you could send positive vibes, juju, or prayers (Honestly, I'm not fussy) to your choice of places, I'd really appreciate it. 

I need this season to come to an end sooner than later.  

Diabetic Coma Week

Let me just say this: I love the people around here. They are amazing. Also, I'm not a diabetic. But this week I ate like I want to be. 

I had a birthday. 

Polly made blueberry cobbler for Easter/my birthday (not the same day, but close enough). The blueberries were the ones I picked a couple years ago in Fouke and froze for a special occasion. It was probably the best blueberry cobbler ever. EVER! She also made ice cream, but primarily she made the ice cream for Sherman, because he doesn't like cobbler. Or, he didn't like cobbler until he tasted Polly's. 

Peanut Butter Pie.
Even looking at it makes my
pancreas cower in the corner. 
But... nom... nom... nom...

On Monday, I met Deb and a boatload of other folks for dinner. Deb made me a peanut butter pie. I'd never had one before. And let me say, it was absolutely fabulous. For my birthday gift, Deb gave me the recipe because she doesn't want to make one ever again. There are probably 20,000 calories a slice and a portion of it is residing in my freezer. But if you ever have the chance to eat peanut butter pie, I recommend it. 

On Tuesday, I went to the Pike County Extension Homemakers meeting. When lunch came around, the potluck consisted of mayonnaise, mayonnaise* and rich chocolate cake. I was hungry. I'm not apologizing. The end. Afterward, Val and I walked around downtown Murfreesboro, where she surprised me with a birthday ice cream. I ate three bites and apologized for not finishing it. All the while I worried about my weeping endocrine system. 

Yesterday, the Thursday Lunch Bunch celebrated my birthday. Corona Jan brought cupcakes. I blew out my candle and passed on the cupcake, encouraging someone else to take them home. 

I must finally be a grown-up because I recognized I've eaten my quota of sugar for the week.  

*Someone bragged--BRAGGED--that the food they brought was "mayonnaise free" because she used Miracle Whip, as if that is any less gross. 

The Pike County Extension Homemakers Meeting

This past week, my pal Val dragged me to the Pike County Extension Homemakers meeting. I'll unpack this for you. 

Pike County is somewhere in Southwest Arkansas*. It's claim to fame is that it is the home to the Crater of the Diamonds State Park, the largest you-dig diamond mine in the US. Small cities named, Murfreesboro, Delight, East Delight, Daisy, Kirby and Hopewell reside in Pike County. The entire county has a population of around 10,000, so take the term, "cities" lightly.

Printed inside is the agenda and the
"Extension Homemaker" creed. 

The Extension Homemakers is a volunteer group focusing on family sciences ("home economics" is the term I heard in school). They meet to discuss such topics as food preservation, sewing, community involvement, cooking, gardening and whatever else falls into this category. Val has been trying to get me to join and I've begged off. Anyway, the Extension Homemakers is big around here. 

The Pike County Extension Homemakers held their meeting and opened it up to the area. And the area responded with a ton of people driving from all over to attend. Val and I drove about 70 miles. The day's topic was on quilting. 

Here's the great news. Many folks brought quilts and most told a brief story behind the quilt. One woman had been in a coma at the age of 37. She remembered nothing from before her accident. He daughter brought her a quilt and explained that the woman had made it for her. Another brought her baby quilt telling the story of her mother, finding out she was pregnant after her father went off to WW2. Her mother worked as a phone operator during the day and made the quilt at night. She didn't meet her father for four years and has memories of dragging it with her, out the door the day her dad came home from the war. Those kinds of stories.  

Here's the not great news. Our speaker, Mr. Sam Somebodyoranother, I heard talk two months ago when Val dragged me to a homesteaders conference. He gave the same talk, which he did not deviate from in the slightest. And dare I say, he gave the talk to the same audience. 

I did find out this time Mr. and Mrs. Sam worked for twenty years as school teachers in Fort Defiance AZ (on the Navajo reservation) and we spent a fun moment boring Val about all things Arizona. Fabulous fact: my father helped build the massive powerplant outside of Holbrook, AZ. The Sams and Val know this. And now you do too. 

Lunch was a combination of mayonnaise-based foods and super-sweet desserts. Though I would have had more than grapes, cheese and crackers (plus one of those pieces of cake) had their been more options, I would have been shocked if anything else had been served. Which brings me to this: if this is a group "dedicated" to food management and a better lifestyle, why couldn't the menu be more varied? Sigh... I guess I should be happy there wasn't a chicken spaghetti in sight. 

I am not going to inundate you with the thousands of quilt pictures I took, but these two are worth a view. 

A BOOK QUILT!!!! 

This is hand sewn. That means, a needle and thread.
Though this picture doesn't do it justice, there are so many intricate details.
It was by-far the most elegant quilt there. 

*The only reason this is a foot note is because I couldn't figure out where else to put my glowing adulation. Arkansas is one of the most underrated states. It is gorgeous. The people are wonderful. The vibe is terrific. Little Rock is pretty cool and has the metropolitan feel without being too big. And if there was work for Marty almost anywhere in the state, I'd be on board in a heartbeat.  

An Easter Tale of Two Churches

Let me put this out there. 

Sunday, I went to Easter mass at the Catholic church. I arrived early enough to find a suitable place to sit. In the lobby and even after I sat down, I smiled and said, "hello," and "happy Easter" to a handful of folks. NOBODY responded. 

Nobody! 

Not one! 

Nada!

NOT EVEN PEOPLE WHO KNOW MY NAME could be charitable enough to say hello. 

Given this is the South, this must have killed these folks not to be friendly. 

Also, nobody originally sat next to me. I had 95 percent of a pew to myself. I saw Sherman across the way, holding a seat for his girl* but he was too far away for me to make any kind of polite acknowledgement. 

With five minutes to go before mass, a father of a family of four came over, asked if I was holding the pew and proceeded to sit him and his family next to me. As the family walked by, I said, "Hello," "Good morning," and "happy Easter." No acknowledgement. Sheesh. 

Polly ran in and slid next to Sherman right before mass started. I looked at the time. If I hurried I could make service at the Church of Christ.  

So, I did. 

As soon as I arrived at the Church of Christ, I met Corona Patty at the entrance. She said hello, good morning AND happy Easter. I met up with Ms. Judy** and chatted with her for a bit before Corona Gail slid in, grabbed both of our shoulders and declared, "Two of my favorite people." And I'm certain she meant it. 

Ms. Jane (her first name is "Ms.") greeted me with an, "I heard you..." and then proceeded to tell me the latest bit of gossip about me. I also corrected her while being in too good a mood to hold a grudge against Little Miss Hates Me for spreading such things--I know she was the source, bless her heart. And honestly, I don't care.   

At the pew, Corona Joan gave me a hug and I whispered, "Just fled mass." Corona Joan is also Catholic, whispered back. "Good move." Her Majesty, Deb, Queen of The Everything came in and sat next to me. That is, until she smelled a new person, jumped past Joan and myself, greeting the newcomer and inviting the unsuspecting woman to six upcoming events. And this is all before the service started. 

I sat in the pew during service with a light heart, genuinely happy to be there. This was a mass of loving folks all living in communion. 

*I explained to Sherman that day at Easter lunch, he could have a girlfriend with long beautiful hair or he could have a girlfriend who arrived anywhere on time. 

**Someday I simply must write a blog post about this beautiful soul. 

A Trip to Carthage Texas

The Texas Country Music Hall of Fame

Carthage Texas has a rough population of 6000 folks. When I started working on my current book, I ended up doing a deep-dive into Carthage. However, none of my deep-dive made it into my book. 

For those of you unfamiliar with Carthage and dying to know where it is, head south of Texarkana until you reach it. It should take you about an hour and forty minutes. The city (I checked, it's a city) is twenty miles from the Louisiana border. It qualifies as a place I would consider living if Marty found employment because it has two Dollar Generals. I believe it also has a hospital and a Wal-Mart Supercenter. The downtown also has a charming park, surrounded by old, musty buildings  which appear to be boutiques, thrift stores, eateries and--I'm not making this up--two Edward Jones investment houses. Yep, you can stand in front of one Edward Jones office in the downtown square, look across the park and see the other Edward Jones office. 

I've wanted to visit Carthage for a while now, because I discovered the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame is located there. It isn't that I'm a huge Texas Country Music Hall of Fame kind of girl, but because of so many summers spent with Bonus Dad looking for obscure small-town museums, I was intrigued. So, after Marty finally gave in, he drove me to Carthage. 

I'm ready to go back. 

Let me first say, we ate at the Texas Tea Room.* It was the BEST food I've eaten in East Texas. Ever! We brought leftovers home, but others who live here absconded with them and also expressed their appreciation and admiration to what good food tastes like. I suggested they open a franchise in Texarkana, but I'm not sure the owners are that ambitious. Probably for the best. The zucchini I had was grilled. In Texarkana it would have to be fried. 

I made this picture large so you might have a better view. This is an old-time a safety deposit box sitting in the lobby of the Texas Tea Room. 

After lunch, we headed off the city center about 300 feet to the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame. The place was more interesting than Marty feared. I thought the history was fascinating. It consisted of a gift shop and two rooms with displays. There was a conference-center kind of place as well--probably for live performances. A working (and free--the docent in the gift shop promised me) juke box sat in the display rooms and we were able to pick out a few songs to liven the mood as we walked around. We spent about two hours in there, soaking up the history and music. Time well spent.  

Photos below, but first, a couple of notes:  

To be inducted into the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame one must have been born in Texas. Except the Oak Ridge Boys. Only one is from Texas so the governor at the time made the others honorary Texans so they would be able to be inducted. 

Eagles' Drummer Don Henley is from (and rumor has it, currently lives) in East Texas. He's been "invited" to be inducted. But so far (according to the docent) he's had schedule conflicts. 

This one surprised me. I thought Buck (former owner of KNIX in Phoenix) was from Arizona. 

Dale Evans

I wish I would have taken a better picture of Buddy Holly's display. It was rather large. 

Marty is a HUGE Roy O fan. 

The Gambler Himself

We've got Willie, Waylon, and Kris Kristofferson
 (and a few others) in this display.

*For those who aren't familiar with the term, "Texas Tea" means oil. There are tons of brownfields (oil fields) near Carthage. 

Before and After

Before

Ta-Da! A black Sharpie was used for the "Welcome." 

Snake Stories

Every day this week, I've thought of writing a snake blog. Well here I am. Let me just start with this: snakes around here are as ubiquitous as sunshine in Phoenix, palm trees in Florida and winter snow in Canada. Essentially, yep. They are here. The topic of snakes and anything adjacent is part of polite conversation. 

In the last four years, I've learned to co-exist with the thought of snakes. I don't do well co-existing with the actual critter. As young children, my siblings and I had a traumatic experience with a rattler. My brothers are the exact same way about snakes. I cannot go to the reptile house at the zoo. I cannot look at a picture of a snake. After finding one in my greenhouse last fall, the floor in there is now covered in sulphur. I am who I am. The end. 

Snake story 1: 

My pal Joy wanted to see a movie this week. We saw Zootopia 2, which happened to be about a poor, misunderstood snake. Just no. We were the only ones in the theater at the matinee showing of a kids' movie, so we ended up chatting more than watching the movie.  

Snake story 2: 

My hairdresser, Crystal, lives on 800 acres, south of Fouke, Arkansas. Though, I wouldn't expect y'all to know where this is, think of it next to the Sulphur river, about 10 miles from the Arkansas-Louisiana border. About here. 

Around that red star. Kinda. 

Anyway, Crystal grew up on these 800 acres. This is woods, wilderness and boonies. There is more poison ivy per square foot in this area than anywhere else in the state of Texas--that level of "boonies." Last weekend, Crystal found a snake in her front yard. And this has upset her. Her front yard! "Why couldn't it be in my back yard?" she asked me. I hate to tell her this... 

Anyway, the snake slithered into a hole and she put a concrete block on the hole. I didn't point out there's probably a second hole. Hopefully it's in the back yard. 

Snake story 3:

Deb lives in a normal neighborhood. The neighborhood was established around 1980. Because it's East Texas, there are ponds everywhere. But please note, it isn't a wildlife kind of neighborhood. It's just a regular suburb. 

Driving back from her house this week, I found this sign. 

This isn't a lake. It is the size of the retention reservoir
found at the end of my former street in Mesa AZ.
Maybe 1/4 of an acre? Can we please stop normalizing critters? 

Snake story 4: Today I visited a friend who lives outside of Texarkana in an unincorporated part of town. She showed me her green house and millions of awesome plants she has. She then told me, oh yeah! She found a snake inside her green house yesterday. It got away. She also found a copperhead closer to her children's swing set last weekend. That one is now dead. Neither of these two locations are near each other, so this is two different snakes. 

We then went on a county-wide hunt for sulphur: the magic ingredient which is supposed to repel snakes. On our third stop, we found a 50 pound bag of the stuff. 

Random Monday Ramblings

Today I went to the doctor for my chronic 1,000-car pileup headaches I've been dealing with. Doc said, "stress." Sure. Okay. I mean, she's not wrong about that stress thing. 

While I was at the doctor's Marty had an interview. The person interviewing him made the interview go long because he was telling him the "best places to live" in this job's particular city. I'm not even googling to see if there's a Trader Joes.

I then went to lunch at the new First Watch in town. I met Deb. Both of us had this crazy idea that it couldn't possibly be crowded on a Monday! How wrong we were. By the way, First Watch hasn't changed. The menu is expensive and exotic for Texarkana. The service was so bad that Deb, a refined Southern woman, gave a generous11 percent tip.  

Oh yes, I told Deb about Marty's interview. To be fair, she already knew because Polly told her last week. But, it was a mistake anyway. Why? Because the newest Corona, Little Miss Hates Me, and her sweet and darling mother (she's wonderful!) came in and because there was no place to sit, they were invited (by Deb, Patron Saint of all Lost Souls) to cram into our two-person booth. And guess what came up in polite conversation? Grrrr... Little Miss Hates Me also is a terrible gossip. 

I think by this time tomorrow half of Texarkana will know Marty had an interview with this organization and it wasn't for a local job. Also, half of Texarkana will not care it was a first interview, there are several candidates and so far nothing has come of it and might not. 

For the record, I did not say to Deb, "Don't tell anyone," because 1) it hadn't come up as a point of conversation and 2) there hadn't been time between me mentioning Marty's interview and LMHM and her wonderful mama sitting down.

Speaking of LMHM. She wanted to tell me Ms. Judy needs me to take her to the upcoming woman's banquet at church. Oh dear! I need to talk to Ms. Judy. I'm out of town that weekend and won't be going to the woman's banquet*. That's too bad. I adore Ms. Judy. She doesn't drive and I and would be happy to take her anywhere I'm going.  After living in the South, I know LMHM didn't mean anything untoward (this time) by mentioning this. It's standard practice: get your news from whomever is dishing it out. But it still bugs me.  

And let me pinch my forehead while I speak of gossip for a moment. I got a text message from one of the Master Gardener's wishing me well now that I've moved to Arizona. Huh? What? Huh? I wrote back, letting him know I live in Texarkana, just taking a break from Master Gardeners right now. Yes, yes. I know this will change at some point, but this is what is true for now. I haven't moved anywhere. Nor have I mentioned to anyone in that organization my living situation. The dude doesn't even go to the Church of Christ! So, I'm really curious about his info source. Geez! His note made my head hurt.   

After lunch, I met Pete the Painter who gave us this outrageously low quote on painting our exterior trim and our bathrooms. Both need to happen before the house goes on the market. I can paint the bathrooms, but I'm not getting on a ladder and painting the exterior--especially if Pete the Painter will charge per hour than less than the cost of a First Watch meal. 

Oh yes! My pal Joy sent a note saying, "see you tomorrow." We hadn't yet picked a destination for our upcoming nature walk. So, I asked where we were going. She replied we were going to the movies. Movies? Okay then. You know, I might get a reasonable nap in the movie theater. There might be something to this. 

I should also mention Corona Krissy called me. She felt we should get a group together on Friday to celebrate my accomplishment of making it another year around the sun. Friday is Good Friday. It is the beginning of the holiest of all religious Christian holidays. And, I fast on Good Friday. So, is this possible to do this after 8 p.m.? Krissy told me it is not possible but respects my beliefs. She informed me another day will be selected. 

Though I love these women and enjoy hanging out with them, I don't want to celebrate my birthday. In fact, the very idea is giving me a headache. 

*Out of town in this case means anything from I'm dragging Marty away for a Galveston weekend to I'll be at the Wal-Mart in New Boston, Texas at the very time of the banquet and won't be available to eat chicken spaghetti. But actually, I do have tentative plans.    

Small and Meaningful

Small and Meaningful

The decision has been made and I'm outvoted. We will eventually be moving. Most around here don't know this, but if anyone is paying attention, they can see the small and meaningful actions being taken to for our home to be put on the market.

Where are we going? Don't know. More on that later. 

Anyway, back to small and meaningful actions. Yesterday, Marty and I tackled more of the front yard. Before you smirk, please understand, revamping the front yard is a massive undertaking. So far, we've reseeded the grass and added a flowerbed in the side yard. And now we've managed to rebuild the bed on the North side of the front yard. The one in front of Buck's room. The flowerbed was covered in wild strawberries, dandelion, burweed and--Heaven help me--green briar. For those who aren't familiar with green briar, it is an unpleasant pokey plant that grows 1,000 feet per second. And it takes over whatever it wants to take over. Essentially, it is the Leon of plants. 

Speaking of Leon, while we were working in the front, Marty turned around and found Leon behind him in the grass, hanging out, and staring at at us. When the cat realized he'd been caught outside, he just sat down, purred, and waited for Marty to bring him back inside.

Anyway, significant progress was made on the front flower bed. Eventually I'll add flowers. But right now I'm happy the weeds are gone. We still need to tackle the rest of the front flower beds, but that has to wait until April, when we have money again. 

Before.
Lots o' weeds. 
Note the rusted trellis with the sunflower hanging from it. 

     

After. There's lawn on the grass side of the castle rock. I promise.
It looks better than the picture suggests. 
Oh, and notice Luna.  

 

Remember the rusted trellis? 

Still needs to dry and a
few details will be added before it goes back up.