And the Worst Texas Critters Are...

They aren't this cute. 

Fire ants. 

Those #(&*$!@ thugs show no mercy while they eat someone alive. 

Ask me how I know.  

One Year

It's been one year since my Daddy died. 

One year since I last held his hand. 

One year since I said good-bye for the last time. 

I've been a a grieving basket case all week, though I've been keeping it mostly to myself, opting to start tearing up during still moments. It still astounds me at how different my grieving is with Dad compared to what a hot mess I continue to be about Bonus Mom's passing--both of whom I dearly miss. 

Even though I probably should be available for my brothers, today I intend to just shut off my phone and see where the day takes me. I just want to listen to the quiet. 

Nope Tenfold

THIS came out in the Texarkana Facebook group yesterday. Look at that proud mama's smile! I would like to also point out there is probably a protective bull gator somewhere that isn't accounted for as well.  

And, THIS is (roughly) how far Bringle Lake is from my home (4.6 miles as the gator walks). 

Marty has a Sinus Infection

I live in a small house. This isn't a complaint. The house is big enough. It is paid off. But the small house is a reality that gets in the way of dealing with Marty's recent freight train snoring my insomnia. Last night, I was awake at 1 a.m. and had nothing to do. My computer and sewing machine are both in the bedroom. The house was clean. It was too wet to go anywhere at that hour. "Anywhere" would be a gym, which I don't have a membership to anyway or the Waffle House across town and I wasn't hungry. Plus, streetlights are kind of a luxury around here, so driving around town in the rain might also mean driving through a puddle I didn't know was the size of a swimming pool. So, I cleaned the garage. 

Then, I started painting the boards for the garden. I'm painting them green because 1) I have green paint and 2) there is no place to buy paint at 1 a.m. even if I did want another color. Here's something I learned since I moved here: painting takes a lot longer to dry in wet weather than it does in the dessert. When I finally called it a night around 4 a.m., the boards were still too wet to move. As I write this, I have 12 more to paint. If the weather holds, I will be planting spinach this weekend. 

Something else I've learned since I moved here is this: the outdoor spigots are inconveniently located in dark corners around my home. In order to wash out my paintbrush, I'd need to traverse--in the dark--to a remote corner of my home and hope there wasn't a critter hanging out there trying to get out of the rain. Don't laugh. I'm not sure I want to take on a giant lizard/possum/armadillo/"occasional copperhead"* armed with a paintbrush and flipflops. So, I didn't wash the paintbrush. I used an old trick my father taught me when in the middle of a painting job, I wrapped the paintbrush in foil and threw it in the freezer for tonight's insomnia marathon.    

*About six months after I moved into the house, I asked my realtor if snakes were an issue. She said, "Other than the occasional copperhead, no."  

Remedial Sewing is Done

Tuesday night was our last remedial sewing class. I brought a zippered pouch I was making with me to work on. That was also supposed to be our final class project.  

Also, because I'd gotten a cryptic e-mail from Val earlier in the day, suggesting she was having a bit of a crazy week, I opted to be a good team player and grabbed a handful of fabric, several zippers and matching thread and threw them in my bag--just in case Val needed them as part of her class. Because nobody else advanced that far, these supplies didn't matter. The rest of the class finished their project from the second week: gift bags. 

Meanwhile, while I worked on every step of my zippered pouch, Val took what I was doing and passed it around the room, demonstrating what the next part of the process should look like. She'd cheerfully say things like: "see how the pinning is done here," or "when you install a zipper, make sure to test it before you top stitch," or "if you don't test your zipper before you top stitch you will be picking out every single stitch and starting over and this is what THAT will look like." 

That evening, as Val and I got into the elevator when class was over, I made some platitude about the class ending. All Val uttered was a "finally" under her breath. That was the most frustration she'd shown about this group of students. But I certainly understood her point. 

Incidentally, Val is offering a canning class next month. But she didn't mention that to her sewing class. 

I'm Not Making This Up

 Ah... life in a smallish town. 

A Balanced Week

Woot! The scales of sanity are tipping my direction. This week I have just a few things going on. My last sewing class, dentist and lunch with Leah--been looking forward to that. I may go to Lunch Bunch Thursday. I'm on the fence because I don't really like the restaurant. But I like the people. 

Wait! Polly has a concert today too. But that's just kind of normal around these parts. 

I feel like I can breathe.