Sometimes I wonder

I really do...I wonder what kind of thinking I do, lol...before I make a life decision. Coming here: I was "in love" with someone totally inappropriate. Then, my friend Sharon, who has since died, said she wished I could be closer, as both her daughters adored me. OK, I can get closer. Texarkana is 71 miles south of DeQueen, Arkansas, where they lived. So I moved to Texarkana. And they moved to Raine (sp?) Louisiana...which is a wide spot in the road near Crowley...on I-20 waaaaay down there, almost to the water. And THEN they moved to about as far north in Arkansas as you can get. (Preachers move a lot, especially snaky ones.) And then she died.

I really loved her younger daughter, Rebekah...she was so funny, and such a PERSON, even at 11. Um, oh shit. She's like, 30-what now? Let's not go there. She's older than I was when I moved here. I have lost touch with her over the years; my ex-husband didn't like me keeping touch with my friends from before his time. No, he didn't *say* that. He just made life miserable when I did. I'm a little shy about making contact again with people who knew me years ago: I have changed SO much - not the inside me, but the outside, crippled-in-a-wheelchair-can't-dance-anymore me. I don't look the same, much, either. The inside me is slowly -very slowly - returning to the person I was, but the outside is permanently altered. There are days when I look in the mirror and go 'what the f'. That's not who I remember being there. *sigh*

Having been divorced nearly a year, I still find little things he did...and is doing...to pay me back for letting him go...dumping him... things like - hiding the paperwork for the house where he knew I'd be unlikely to look for quite a while. I don't know WHAT he did with my birth certificate. And just recently, he's found himself an apartment in his home town - and of course, needed electricity...but did he have to put HIS address on the account that has served this house? No, I don't think so. So now I have the hassle of having to call the electric company and get that fixed. Like when he moved out, and put in a change of address - for the entire household. Yeah... that made sense. Can YOU say 'passive aggressive'? As is always the case with him, he gets mad, but 'nice' people don't get mad, so he hides it...and does something mean and sneaky in another direction. It will be fine, eventually. I'll have gotten rid of all the stuff he left behind...including that little bitty sense of resentment that I feel for what he did to me in those 11.5 years...11.5 LONG years.

I came to Texarkana

I came to Texarkana in 1988, February...coldest month of the year in Minneapolis. Had to leave my car running all night to make sure I was able to leave in the morning. I left the city wearing two pairs of pants, a sweater, mittens, and a fake-raccoon-fur coat that, zipped up, made me look like a brown striped sausage with legs. (Note, this is not my car, I have no idea what happened to the multitude of pics I took of the green meanie, but this is close. Mine never looked that good.)


In Minneapolis, I routinely took home over $600 a week. I moved to Texarkana, and accepted $5.50 an hour. I still wonder what I was thinking... I had nothing but an antique table, a sewing machine, several boxes of glassware (antique, etched crystal) my clothes, bedding, 30 pairs of shoes, and a huge persian cat. I found a place to live, which cost more than I could afford...and had to move immediately - not because of the cost, I would've managed that, but the landlady went from, oh, yes, cats are ok to 'you have to get rid of the goddam cat' practically overnight. I have no idea why. Toby the persian was the least offensive cat I've ever known...he had no claws (due to the accident which made him mine) and he hardly ever got on ANYthing but me. No clue. 


So, the boss I was working for offered to get me into his Mom's rental. OK... and she went ballistic on me. Started leaving nasty notes and threatening me...still don't know why that, either, lol, but the common denominator there was me... boss then moved me into an old house he owned half a block from the printshop. BINGO. Stayed there several years. It was a great house, a double shotgun - you yankees won't know that that is, I didn't. so here's what it is: a house that all the rooms run together. It was a 3/3;  front door opened into a living room, a second large room followed, dining room? I don't know... and then the kitchen. Off the living room, a bedroom, then a large bathroom with a large closet, and a second bedroom, which opened, weirdly, also into the kitchen. From the kindness of their hearts, this boss and his wife loaned me some furniture, so now I had a couch and a bed, and my dining table and sewing machine, lol...why I brought the sewing machine, I don't know, but I still have it.


First lesson learned from that house: Lock the back door. A man who lived in a shed on the next door property was coming into the back porch and draining water from my water heater...I added a padlock. I'm all for helping people out - but I'd like to know i'm doing it. Second lesson: DO NOT put anything on the outside of the house saying you love cats. Trust me. Dangerous. My friends' daughter asked me to do the guest book at her wedding, and my 'gift' for that was a hanging art thing that said 'I Love Cats'. I put it on the door. Shortly thereafter, people started giving me cats. At 3 a.m. I would hear a car pull into the parking lot of the Housing Authority next door. A car door slam. Car revs off... 'meow?' 'meow?' oh shit. Now I have another mouth to feed on that 5.50 an hour.


Then, another lesson learned: People who stand on the corner with signs saying 'will work for food' want neither food nor work. And probably have more money than I do. I gave a man in that position a bag of food (half of what I had) and got cursed for it...and laughed at back at the shop. Stupid Yankee got suckered. Yeah, but only once.


Ok, that's enough for now...