Why I Don't Miss Real Estate

I guarantee if she'd gone into property management she'd have nailed those emotions in three months. 

 

The Christmas Party

I mentioned some time back, I was invited to join the Lady's Auxiliary (also known as "Unit 3" for some unknown reason) at our church. I agreed because I figured I should probably get to know some of the folks at my church half as well as I was getting to know the ladies at the Church of Christ. So far, Unit 3 has had one meeting. They also had a Christmas party scheduled for December 3. 

Well, on December 3, the only person who was healthy enough to attend was me, and I was in Arizona. So, they moved the party to this past Wednesday.  

Up until the hour before it started, I'd been looking forward to this Christmas party. Then, the anxiety kicked in. I'd met most of the ladies who'd be attending (one time), but couldn't tell you their names. Marty had worked all day, was recovering from a cold and looked like he wanted to do anything other than go to this thing. How was this exactly going to work out? What if they were serving shrimp? Who would I talk to at this shin-dig? What if I said something anti-Southern? Anti-Catholic? And God forbid, Anti-Texan?  

Also, this crowd knew each other for more than 30 years. Marty and I were the outsiders. Plus, they were all in their late 50s-mid 60s. At 54, I'm the baby of the group. My anxiety lasted until I walked in the door and our hostess Melody greeted me and offered me--and I'm not making this up--an apple pie moonshine shot. I stopped at one and wished there was Fireball Whiskey to chase it down with, just to cut the edge. I think Melody stopped at 17. If she was drunk, it didn't show. Melody reminds me of Marty's late mother--a gregarious, bossy, Catholic Texan. She is a hoot.  

Before eating, everyone sung Happy Birthday to Marty, who was the only December birthday in the bunch. After we ate, we played some silly party games and then we had--and mind you, this is Texas where polite society and political correctness aren't what the rest of the world considers for either--a "Chinese" Gift Exchange game. Each party had to bring a man and woman gift. I ended up with a set of mixing bowls that Polly can take with her if she promises to eventually move out. Marty got earbuds (which are now mine). 

I now feel much more comfortable with Unit 3. I have a tentative lunch and sewing date with one of the ladies for later next month. Marty even mentioned perhaps we should stay for coffee and donuts after mass and visit next week. So, it looks like he had fun too. 

Adventures in Writing Groups

This past year, I was involved with two writing groups. My original writing group was made up of an international group of women. They were wonderful for plot development. The best writer of the group dropped out for employment reasons, leaving  three of us. Now, I'm finding the two who are left aren't what I'm looking for when it comes to in-depth story structure. I like them. But I feel like I'm helping them at this point more than they are helping me. This group isn't going anywhere, I'll still participate. However, I'm starting to zone out. 

I also got with a writer friend in Arizona and she and I formed another group last summer. One woman in our group, Alice, oozed passive aggressiveness. She had control issues and kept changing the meeting time. Plus, Alice wouldn't send us a chapter for our meeting. She'd send us weird stream of consciousness and a list of themes she'd want her non-existent story to cover. We were then expected to discuss this--though we had no earthly idea what her story was about. One day, my friend congratulated me on how I kept my cool when Alice didn't want to show her face in our Zoom meeting. That truly was a shining moment of my adulthood. 

The feedback Alice would give would be to purposely misunderstand the basics of narration. In my chapter I'd write, "I walked towards the road, mindful of the heavy rush hour traffic." and her feedback would be "How can the reader be sure your character is really doing this? Also, when you say 'road' do you mean an asphalt street? Dirt path? There are different kinds of roads in different cultures. Does your character have the phycological wherewithal to make these kinds of decisions?"  

In my imagination, I put her in a writing group with great authors and thought of how she'd approach her feedback to them. She would have told Mark Twain if she was beta reading Tom Sawyer, "How does your reader really know Tom and Becky are in a cave and not in a space ship instead?" Steven King would have gotten pointless feedback such as, "Andy Dufresne. Should he really be in prison? Are you sure that's the best spot for him? Prison reform is such a hot topic" (DuFresne was convicted of murdering his wife in 1947 and the majority of Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption takes place in a prison. So, yes!) And of course Jane Austen would have gotten, "I'd rather see Mr. Darcy end up with someone like Lydia. A better match for him." 

Anyway, the last time Alice decided she needed to change the meeting time, I wished her well and changed the Zoom access so she couldn't come back. 

We also had Olive in this group. Dear, Sweet Olive. I've been working with Olive since June. I brought her into the group, thinking she'd benefit from more than me telling her how to fix her story. Olive spent a great deal of each chapter letting the reader know what her character was eating: McDonald's baked seabass, tuna sandwich and when we pointed out the reader will assume if the character is living, they are eating, Olive just changed the order of the meals and didn't add any more actual content to her murder mystery. 

Olive's story seems to be in the same place it was when we started, which is nowhere with better subject-verb agreement thanks to my friend and me. Additionally, Olive doesn't provide beta reading feedback to either my friend or myself, other than to say, "I'd like to compliment you on your use of strong verbs." 

After banging our heads for months, my friend and I decided to let this "group" fall apart. Now, I've put my friend in charge of finding us two qualified writers who will give critiques that are in line to our plots. They don't have to be at the same level of writers as us. But they must be team players. We'd like to see people who want to grow (like us) and want to offer us feedback to help us grow as well. 

Currently, my friend has rejected more potential writers than she's let move through this process. As of right now, there is one person she's strongly considering. My friend sent me a copy of her writing for me to read. I sent something terrible I wrote years ago and asked for feedback in return, just to see how this person would respond. If we can do better than, "Is your character really running through the forest like you suggest?" I'm probably on board.   

Have Spade and Gloves Ready

I just put my application in to be considered for Bowie County's Master Gardener program. It is a joint program through Texas A&M. Though I would think they would take volunteer labor when it is available, apparently this isn't the case. This is a big deal and there is a selection process. I'm thinking of Rush Week for potential gardeners. 

Part of the application was a several page questionnaire. And, like all Southern activities thus far, it came with a litany of personal questions designed to see if I was a serial killer would be a good fit. 

Please explain your volunteer history for the past twenty years, use additional paper if necessary. I homeschooled. Doesn't that count? I raised kids, co-oped classes and homeschool events, was part of Polly's Girl Scouts, was one of the "Volunteer Moms" with the karate studio. And the list goes on. However, none of this was plant-based. 

Please explain your professional experience for the past twenty years. Use additional paper if necessary. Honestly, I could have written a six-volume set on this one, but I kept it simple: Homeschool mom (it's work), real estate broker/agent, owned a property management company for a spell, freelance writer.  

Please explain your horticulture experience. Include both floral and food. Use additional paper if necessary. And this is where it got tricky. I've managed to grow a tomato in Phoenix and spend under $1200 in water doing so. I think that should count for something. Instead, I embellished my one year of Texas experience. I've successfully grown a bumper crop of jalapenos. Plus, I've planted tulip bulbs two years in a row. I wrote all of the above paragraph with a lot more words and made it sound glamorous.

If selected, what do you wish to accomplish being part of the Master Gardener Program? I want to grow more than one tomato a summer for starters. But I didn't put that down. Nor did I put down, I wanted a reason to leave my house once in a while. Instead, I kind of paraphrased their mission statement and added a few more flowery sentences. Hopefully there was enough fertilizer on my answer to grow into a real opportunity.  

There were two more pages of questions along these lines. I don't know what the program is looking for in their selection of folks. Candidates will be selected by the end of January. Right now my fingers are crossed I'll have a chance to play in the dirt and learn a few tricks along the way. 

An E-mail From My Favorite Human

I love this kid! 

Dear Auntie,

You should get a letter in the mail.

It might get there early, late, or on time for Christmas.

It will include a letter.

Merry Christmas From Patrick

A Cold Winter's Day

Being the new kid in town makes me ever so grateful when an invitation comes around. Yesterday, in front of the storm, Cindy invited me to lunch. Even with the promised frigid temps, I wasn't turning this down. We both rushed to the grocery store for last-minute provisions (she insisted I do this and told me I wouldn't be sorry--I wasn't. There were two gallons of milk left at Walmart 10 a.m.), ran home to put away our milk and eggs (they would have froze in the car) and then met at the pizza place for a quick bite. 

I met Cindy through the Coronas. Right after Thanksgiving, she needed outpatient surgery and I offered to drive her to Sulphur Springs--70 miles away. At the time, I thought nothing of the act, as I had way too much time and four walls that were closing in on me, but Cindy (as well as several of the Coronas who reached out after), have expressed a heartfelt gratitude. 

Actually, the gratitude is mine. It is nice to meet new people and have genuine conversations. I never felt lonely in Arizona, even as an introvert. My first nine months in Texarkana I was spiraling into the loneliness abyss. 

But I digress. 

Cindy lives on a farm with three horses, a donkey and three goats. At lunch she was working out the logistics and trying to figure out if they could all get along in her garage for the night with a space heater. I haven't heard how that worked out just yet. But she didn't think the horses would make it otherwise. This is what people in a small town with a weather anomaly talk about.  

Anyway, after our lunch, the temperature had dropped from 34 degrees to 27. I had grabbed a pizza for the family for dinner. Then I stopped by Petsmart and bought one of the few remaining packages of puppy pads, figuring Luna might not want to go outside in the middle of the night. It turns out my idea wasn't that unique. That's usually what dog owners do when there's a cold spell. Incidentally, the puppy pads were a waste of money. Luna went outside in 7 degrees and then promptly came back in and burrowed under the blankets. I think Luna has the right idea for today. 

East Texas Bi-Polar Weather

For those of you who love, love, love winter, come get your weather. I did not sign up for 7 degrees. Actually, never mind. By next week it's supposed to be in the mid-60s. 

In other news, while wrapping presents the other day, I ran across the gloves I was giving the young adults for Christmas. I handed the gloves to them early. By Christmas they would have no use for them.