HELP!

Do not bring
this to a sewing class.
 

 I may have mentioned a few months ago, my sewing teacher, Val accidentally ended up teaching a remedial sewing class. At the time, I took the class (again) it was because I wanted to get out of the house. What ended up happening was her students were having such a difficult time with some basics (like threading a needle) that I became Val's assistant.

To be fair, during that class, I always finished my project within a half an hour because I followed the directions and--per the requirements of the instructor--cut my fabric out at home. Also, I had enough rudimentary knowledge that I was able to help other students. I also became her, "Let's all gather around the sewing machine and see how this is done," Vanna White student. That particular class only finished two of the six course projects. Val was doomed from the start.  

That course ended and Val moved on to another beginning sewing class. I knew she was teaching another one, but with the master gardener program looming I didn't sign up for one more thing on my plate. Plus, I'm working on a few sewing projects of my own and didn't want to buy fabric for a pillowcase I didn't need or a garish oven door towel.  

Bring THIS to a
sewing class. PLEASE. 

And this brings me to this past week. On Tuesday evening, Marty and I went for a walk around Wake Village.  A text came in from Val. It said, "Help!!!!! Can you come to the school?" Given Texarkana College is five minutes away, and my walk was completed, oh... why not! 

I walked into Val's class and she looked up. "Great! I'm glad you're here." Val had eight students--a full house. There were TWO of the eight students with toy sewing machines. Most of her students seemed to be on par with the class. However, Val pointed to a 12 year old girl off by herself and introduced me to Maggie. For the rest of the evening, I was Maggie's private instructor. 

By the way, Maggie's mother was in the room--with a real machine (Maggie had a green toy), real pins, real scissors and real accessories necessary to sew. She was sitting nowhere near Maggie. I'm guessing that may be why Miss Maggie was so needy.* Maggie didn't have the right instruction, tools, machine or life experience to keep up . 

Given the sewing machine Maggie had to work with, her pillowcase came out pretty amazing. I loved watching her face light up as her project came together. Her seams were straight-ish and dare I say, it might have been the best pillowcase in the class. Next week I will bring a few extra items I have laying around for the poor girl so she can some decent tools--including a pin cushion, better pins and reasonable scissors.  

Yes, I'm planning on showing up next three Tuesdays. If nothing else, it will get me out of the house. And I'm guessing Val's class will be much smoother with someone giving Maggie a bit of attention. 

*This is not in any way to dog on Maggie's mom. I have been that mother who purposely sat away from my clingy kid so they could have another teacher/mentor offer them guidance. I wanted my child to have a win where I didn't direct it. So, I totally understand. Maggie would not have done so well if Mom had been hovering. And Val had a full load and didn't have time for the one-on-one attention Miss Maggie needed (it really is an adult class). But geeze Mom! Give the girl some reasonable tools to do her project!

A Tale of Two Book Clubs (part 2)

 About a month ago, I mentioned to Gail--she's one of the Church of Christ/Lunch Bunch/Coronas, I liked to read. We then got into an interesting discussion about books, stories, plots, etc. I told her I'd found the Texarkana Library's book club and then made a heavy sigh, filling her in on the crazy stories we've been reading. 

She told me about her book club. It is through the Church of Christ and invited me to go. "But I don't go to your church," I said. "That's okay. You are our sister anyway." (Squee!) She cautioned me that March's book--if I wanted to come--was a long epic Russian tale. She hadn't started it just yet, but she was looking at the book with a hairy eyeball. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"A Gentleman in Moscow," she replied. 

And this is where I went all book nerdy. You see, A Gentleman in Moscow happens to be one of my absolute favorite stories. Everyone should read this book! 

I started gushing about what an amazing story teller Amor Towers happens to be. I shared with her my observations and even found one of my favorite quotes from that book. 

"Why did you write the poem?"

Rostov: "It demanded to be written. I simply happened to be sitting at the particular desk on the particular morning when it chose to make its demands."

This month's Church of Christ book club meeting was this past Monday. A group of folks from diverse backgrounds (including the token Catholic) all met. Other than Gail, I hadn't met any of them before.* We were served a quick brunch, heard a talk from one woman who'd gone to Russia in the 1990s and showed us some of her treasures she'd brought back. We asked lots of questions about the culture and then settled down into the nitty gritty of the book. Each of us were able to speak, contribute to others and shape the conversation. It was enlightening and I left feeling like I was around a bunch of readers who wanted to discuss a story instead of rating it in on a scale of 1 to 5. By the way, Gail has changed her tune on this particular "long epic Russian tale," but may not be as giddy as I am about the story.  

More than one person invited me to come next month--Gail will be out of town. I hope I can make it. April's book is Painted Horses. I've already started it. But it is a letdown after A Gentleman in Moscow. But then again, most every book under the sun is a letdown after A Gentleman in Moscow. 

As for the library's book club. I hated the premise of April's book--The Fourth Hand. It also turns out I have a Master Gardener event that day, so I won't be going anyway. 

*Though I hadn't met any of them before, a delightful woman came up to me and said, "I think you know my sister, Leah. 

A Tale of Two Book Clubs (Part 1)

I originally joined the Texarkana Library's book club for the sole purpose of meeting people. It was last July. My home on Arizona Avenue was smothering me. I would have gone to June's book club, but I had workers in my home who just couldn't get a bathtub installed in under three and a half weeks.  

My initial expectation was the book club would be a diverse group of book nerds who wanted to have interesting discussions about that month's book and would bring to the table a unique, yet intelligent, perspective. 

What it turned out to be was Tammy the Librarian (and I assure you, she's pretty cool--just not in this setting) asking each sweet octogenarian (also awesome folks) as well as me and a woman named Joy for a rating 1 to 5 and ONE sentence about what we liked about the book. If anyone dares not to like the book (sigh) they are cast as a mini-pariah for the meeting--even if I point out obvious plot gaps like the killer had to know the victim because otherwise the storyline didn't go together or the fact everyone else seemed to miss out on the reason the main character was in Lake Superior in the first place was because he was committing suicide and that "pretend friend" that bothered all of the Book Club participants throughout the story was the main character's guardian angel. But I digress... 

At any rate, the books are tyrannically selected by Tammy the Librarian, who hasn't read them either. Tammy then buys them in bulk through Amazon and tells the Club members not to break the spine and return the books by the next meeting so they can be sent back to Amazon for a full refund. I have a significant problem with this and just get my own copies (usually through the library). So far the two best books we've read were a child's book and the Lake Superior story. Rounding third place was March's book (a 1970s sci-fi). However, we didn't meet in March because Tammy had a bum knee. 

At the end of the meeting Joy, who was an English lit major and I usually stand outside the library chatting and looking for validation ("You did recognize the main character was trying to kill himself? "Yes, but I didn't want to embarrass the rest of the group." "Do you think the characterization of the theme of rebirth was accurate?" "Absolutely. Great analysis. Too bad the book was horrible"), until we decide it is raining, freezing or could be better served moving our discussion to (whips out phones) say next Tuesday? Cracker Barrel or Indian food? 

The entire meeting lasts exactly 59 minutes, with Tammy saying she has to lock the meeting room door before she rushes back behind the check-out counter. 

A Random Saturday

Why are these
things relevant? 

Saturday morning, I nudged Marty and insisted he head out early. Well, "early" for us. So, around 10 a.m., we drove three miles to downtown to the "Texarkana Home and Garden Show," which was in an abandoned  building half the size of a Walgreens. We talked to a few builders (our goal), entered contests to win gift cards, ear buds and a "Mexican" dinner. None of these entries wanted more than our first name and phone number. 

Every single vendor was passing out can logoed cozies, which makes me think some slick promotional products salesman had a run on these things and managed to convince every business in Texarkana that these were hot items. "They are great for your pop," one plumber--bless his heart--told me, offering me two of them. "I don't drink soda," I replied. "Well, your husband can use them for his beer."  Ah... The South. 

I now have the name of a few builders who may want to bid on my mythological sun room, which is in the early stages of development. Stay tuned. 

Afterwards, Marty and I walked around Downtown--which is one street and three blocks long. It took us five minutes. We ended up at a burger place we'd wanted to check out. We've checked it out. Marty brought half his burger home for Buckaroo. I brought 2/3 of my burger home for Luna. 

Speaking of Luna, I then took her for a walk, where she tried to charge a toddler. Unfortunately, it was one of my neighbors. I know Luna was only excited to see a little person--she loves little people. Plus, because she was on a harness and a leash, and is 70 pounds of muscle, my right arm is now two inches longer than my left from controlling her. Fortunately, the parents of this little one were really awesome about the entire experience. They laughed. I was mortified. Luna's walk tomorrow will be in a very different direction.  

After all of that, Polly, Marty and I made it to our canning class at Texarkana College by 1 p.m. My sewing teacher, Val was conducting this class. It was a three hour information dump and I learned quite a bit--including to have a healthy respect for botulism. 

If it will stop raining long enough, I will finish planting my garden so I can actually have food to grow so that I will be able to eventually put in practice some of what I learned today. As a side note, Joy--a woman I met last summer--happened to be in the class. She's pretty awesome too. 

While in the class, Tessa called. She left a random voice mail about a house Marty and I "just have to see." We have first dibs! She told me all about how awesome the house was, but forgot a few details like the address and price. Marty and I are not interested. I don't even want to flirt with thinking about another house. However, I didn't call Tessa back. 

Instead, I put in my headphones, put on my audio book ("A Gentleman in Moscow"--everyone should read/listen to this book once a year) and went for a Luna-free walk. 

Gotta Love Those Texas Critters

True phone conversation yesterday with an Arizona friend. 

Friend: What are you doing?

Me: Weeding the flower bed. 

Friend: Sounds like fun. 

Me: Well, if I don't, the copperheads have a place to hide. 

Small Town Observations

 After living in a mega-metropolis all my life, I'm surprised at what is becoming normal while living in a small town. 

• I called Polly's doctor the other day. I asked that her medication be transferred to a different pharmacy. My reason for calling: she was at school and I'm her mother. HIPA laws be damned. I did the same with Marty's prescription at a different doctor. Nobody questioned this. 

• Worship music is everywhere: The dentist's office. Restaurants. Gas Stations. EVERYWHERE.

• Speaking of Worship, it is the culture. Polly and I attended a baby shower in January. There was a blessing before we ate. Marty's work's holiday Christmas party included a prayer before breaking bread. The police department (Arkansas side) went to Facebook, asking for prayers for a child who'd been injured during a crime. Every Corona party starts with a prayer. Buck's martial arts tournaments (which are not held in Texarkana) start with prayers. Polly's concerts start with prayers. It would be weird not to. I asked my Texarkana acquaintance who is not into the whole Jesus thing how she feels about this element of Southern culture, she said it doesn't bother her. "You do you," was her attitude.

• Roasted, braised, steamed and raw vegetables are mere suggestions. If the salad happens to be raw, it is mixed with--and I'm not making this up--mayonnaise (which, is gross). Otherwise, people eat breaded and fried veggies. On purpose. Often. As a side note, there probably aren't enough cardiologists in this town for the amount of fried foods that are served in restaurants. 

• People go out of their way to be kind. When I take my afternoon walks, motorists wave. I'm thinking it is a state law to wave to pedestrians, or it is a state law for pedestrians to wave to motorists. On several Texarkana Facebook groups I belong to, I see posts about "hey strangers, I need a ride to Wal-Mart, anyone heading that way from (the town of) Leary? May I tag along? Six people will respond. The same will go for "My mother is by herself and lives on 123 Elm Street. I can't get over there, but she isn't answering her phone, would one of you perfect strangers in the neighborhood mind checking on her? Nobody minds, and not ten minutes later we all will have an update on this person's mother. Speaking of kind, the other day I saw a boy, about 10, walking home from school holding his little sister's hand. She couldn't have been more than six--that level of kindness. 

• Even in the dumpier parts of town, litter and graffiti isn't a thing. Sure, the homes are older. Sure, there are run down neighborhoods. But these folks still take care of their yards. Their streets are clean. The other day I saw someone walking across a crosswalk, who stopped, and picked up a piece of trash before the light changed. I doubt I would have noticed this kind of thing in Phoenix, if it happens at all. You Phoenicians, please let me know. 

I Still Mean It

I've been up since 3 a.m. The "cat" has a horrible snoring problem that is keeping me awake. 

We need an extra room. Not a new house.