Almost

Welcome to La Fogata

I met Leah for lunch Monday. I really like Leah, probably more than I like anyone else in the whole Texas-Arkansas area where I live. In my head, we have a lot in common, though our friendship is slow-going--but that seems like the norm around here. Or maybe it's the norm for my age. At any rate, Leah and I met for lunch. Seeing her, as always, was fun.  

In the futile attempt to find marginally reasonable Mexican food, I suggested a place on the Arkansas side: La Fogata, which translates to "the fire." I believe the joint was named this because the place looks like a dumpster fire. I sent pictures of the building to Marty and his reply was "modest." Yep, in a back-alley kind of way. That said, it probably is on the top of my Mexican food list for Texarkana. 

Set off of Genoa Road, La Fogata was situated next to a bog. I was greeted by the restaurant's friendly cat. The staff was pleasant and even turned the music down to something reasonable once we sat down. 

I guarantee there is a critter or two back
there in that bog.

The menu held promise. For example, though the chili reyenos came with or without chicken, they were made with poblanos. A far cry from the folks making this dish with a variety of non-poblanos that we tend to see around here. As a bonus, they also weren't covered in avocado mayo. The salsa had the correct spices and the chips reminded me of Arizona. I ordered the two for one enchilada plate. And here is where it all took a turn. The chicken enchilada had zero spice. The cheese enchilada was just a rolled up quesadilla--but I didn't have the heart to tell the staff that. It wasn't until I was driving home did I realize what the true issue was: La Fogata, just like everywhere else around here, uses flour tortillas for their Mexican food.  

Leah asked what I thought of the food. It wasn't Tex-Mex, which is a high compliment. I'll probably drag

The La Fogata Kitty Cat

Marty back there and order tacos and have Marty take a gander at the chili reyenos (no chicken, please). If the food isn't passable, at least we can drench it in the salsa. 

The New Girl

Though I thought about canceling sixty gazillion times Thursday, I managed to make it the 4.7 miles to lunch with five minutes to spare. It just so happens, Cindy, the woman who invited me, was also parking her car at the same time as me. She came over, and asked if I was sick. Nope, just ready to pass out from nerves. 

There were twelve of us. I knew four from the Coronas. I knew three others from the monthly prayer meeting. (one of whom is VERY anti-Catholic and it cracks me up how much effort the rest of the ladies go to ensuring she doesn't know I'm Catholic, though I really don't care if she knows or not). 

I don't know why social anxiety is my jam, but it is. However, when I walked in, Corona-Patty said, "I saw your name on the list. I'm glad you came." Corona-Krissy said, "A few of us are going to the movies tomorrow. Want to come?" and Corona-Ruth said, "Oh please do come to the movies. You can sit next to me."   

Prayer Meeting-Ginny asked about my sister-in-law's surgery. And Prayer Meeting-Jenny mentioned she thought it was a "hoot" that I lived on Arizona Avenue and was also from Arizona. Neither of these bits o'trivia I had volunteered to the gang.  

Friday, I joined Krissy and Patty at the movies (Ruth now had a sinus infection). The movie was terrible, but as I explained to Buckaroo, I agreed to go, so that I could get to know people. I wasn't going for the movie, but for the company. 

Saturday I got a text from Krissy, inviting me to a play that night. I couldn't make it, but I no longer feel like a complete outsider. I have hope there will be future invitations. Perhaps at some point I won't feel like the new girl any more.

The Lunch Bunch

In late November, Cindy invited me to join the Lunch Bunch, a group of ladies she knows, who meet once a week. She said they have a great time and promised I'd like them and get along just fine. In November, my timing to visit with them was off. The first opportunity I had to go they met at a seafood restaurant. Then, there was an emergency trip to Arizona. The next time I could make lunch, they were meeting at someone's home for a Christmas Party. I opted to wait until 2023. 

Today is the first lunch of the year. This week, I've done everything but collapse into a ball of mush over this. My social anxiety is through the roof. Cindy reached out yesterday, reminding me that TODAY'S the DAY!, which did nothing to quell my fright.  

All sorts of self-defeating thoughts have raced through my head in the past few days. What if I don't fit in? What if I say something stupid--well, let's just stop right there. I will say something stupid, my filter is defective. What if they don't like me? 

It really is difficult to be the new kid in a small Southern town. Plus, I have a bit of PTSD from my six weeks at the Ole Brokerage where a majority of the folks were nice to my face and nasty behind my back. 

I shared my concerns with Marty, who pointed out I generally do fine in these types of situations and I just need to get out of my head. I'm not sure how he measures "fine." However, he did suggest I look on their super-secret Facebook group I'm now part of, just to see if I knew anyone other than Cindy. 

It turns out, I spent last Saturday night--New Year's--with 90 percent of the folks in the Lunch Bunch. Most of them are Coronas! Same women, different social event, with a few other women sprinkled in. 

Okay. I think I will be fine. 

I hope. 

As long as I don't say something completely stupid. 

But for the record. I'm still nervous.    

Four Mississippi is Approx Two Miles*

Last January the high for the month was 35 degrees. We went through our (Arizona) winter clothes by January 4th. We found out why people have fireplaces in their homes and why wool blankets are all the rage. We also discovered why people wear socks. 

Two weeks ago it was 7 degrees and our hot water heater froze. Since then, the weather has been more or less wonderful--except for the rain. I'm over the whole rain-thing. I never knew the importance of having a weather app on my phone until I moved here and discovered that people, who are not Polly, actually pay attention to the weather, hour by hour, on purpose.

East Texas on a sunny
January morning

Monday, after days of rain, the sun came out around 3 p.m. and I opted to grab a bit of vitamin D. With my new earbuds and a podcast, I went for a walk around Wake Village. What I didn't do was check the weather radar to see what Mother Nature had in store an hour later. This will be a lesson I guarantee I won't forget any time soon. 

About a mile and a half from my home, I noticed the clouds rolled in. As I walked East, I saw lightening in front of me. This was a surprise for two reasons, first, I wasn't expecting any more storms for the day and second, storms here come from the West. Essentially, I managed to walk around long enough that a thunderstorm had circled around East Texas and now I wasn't close to home. And just in case I wasn't completely convinced that this might have not been in my best interest, the second time I saw the lightening, I only got to 6 Mississippi. 

Wake Village on a warm January day

After repeatedly calling the three Sunshines with no luck (why did the young adults pick that moment to put down their phones?) and sending SOS texts to all of them, explaining I'm out in the open and please come get me, I started looking for cover. Given this is more or less friendly territory, I figured I could just duck under someone's porch if necessary. Otherwise, I was already drenched so I'd just keep walking towards home.

I made it to my block about the time the lightening hit 4 Mississippi and then Marty called, wondering where I was. "I saw it was raining," he announced right as a clap of thunder went off, shaking the ground. 

Today on my walk, I took a couple of pictures of the clear sky. I wanted something to remember the good times by, as it is supposed to rain on and off for the next two weeks. But hey! At least this January it is supposed to be in the 60s.    

*According to Polly, our local weather expert. 

   

The Best Soprano in Texas

 

Polly in 2006

Polliwog was named Soprano 1, Section Leader ("First Chair") for the 2023 Texas All-State Collegiate Choir. 

I'm Not Making This Up

Just in case y'all don't believe me. 

Fuzzy's Tacos is our go-to taco joint, not because it is fabulous, but because it is consistent, inexpensive and we are pretty sure the Health Department isn't going to close down the kitchen*. The food is reasonable, if you don't mind brisket in your tacos and a complete lack of spice. 

Saturday, the family took a drive over to Stateline Road and had a few tacos. If you want salsa hot sauce, here's what Fuzzy's will give you.  

There is some debate if "aged red peppers" are the same as chili peppers. I say no, especially after trying their Butt Burning hot sauce. It was more like sugary ketchup with a bit of black pepper.  

*The best and mostly authentic taco joint I've found has a questionable kitchen. They are cheap, but I just can't get past their cleaning practices. 

 

The New Year's Party

The Coronas had a New Year's party. It was eight of us, eating "Mexican" food, compliments of Deb, our hostess who knows a guy who makes decent tamales in, "South Texas." Hoping to add some authentic, I brought dulce de leche bars, which were about as authentic as the corn dip and Fritos Cindy brought. 

Sigh... I've been gone from Arizona two weeks and I'm already missing real Mexican food.

We played cards and dominos and munched on all things that bring on Type II diabetes. Though these parties usually end by 10 p.m., we were there until 1 a.m. We watched the Time's Square ball drop at 11 p.m. and then an hour later we watched the Nashville Note drop. Then Krissy sang, "Auld Lang Syne." Afterwards, we went outside and lit sparklers like we were eleven years old. 

At some point, someone commented that I was the "new kid," and the other six corrected her. Nope. Not any more, which was nice to hear--though I still feel like a complete outsider. The party was a laugh-fest, which was a nice way to end a crappy twelve months. 

Of note, while driving home, the streets were completely empty. There were no erratic drivers or crazy folks still celebrating. I saw one car, two possums and three deer during my 10 minute drive.