February Photos

Monday, February 24, 2020

Journal: Trip to Texas


By the way, it was a short-lived thing, Larry’s being in insulated overalls in 75° weather (I was mistaken about the coveralls; they were only overalls).  He soon had the wiring fixed well enough that we could proceed... and Tuesday morning while I curled my hair and packed our bags, he found where those wires were broken to one of the trailer brakes, and had it ready to splice into new wiring as soon as we could stop and get some at an automotive shop.  So, because of that little snafu, we didn’t leave Midland, Texas, nearly as soon as we’d hoped to.  The overalls were fine, that morning:  it was only 31°!
Larry is always optimistic (“This won’t take long!”) and he generally knows exactly how to do whatever needs to be done.  As Lydia once said when she was just two years old, sitting calmly in her little car seat while Larry put yet another new engine belt in our pickup as we sat stranded atop McDonald Pass in Montana, “My Daddy can fix anything.  And he just about can.  
A friend, upon hearing this story, remarked, “When I was little, I thought my dad could fix anything, too.  Later I learned it was just creative use of duct tape.”  haha

The Woodspring Suites motel where we stayed didn’t offer breakfast, but that was okay, because we had a leftover pancake from iHop (Larry had that with several packets of jelly I had absconded with from the previous motel, along with some yogurt) and half of a sweet potato with butter and brown sugar from Cracker Barrel (I had that).  Larry didn’t think a sweet potato made a very good breakfast at all, not being fond of them; but I love sweet potatoes, and thought it was a fine and dandy breakfast.
I got a note from my friend Sue, from whom we would be purchasing the Bernina Artista 730:  I’m getting so antsy to meet you guys today!!! 
“Here’s something to think about.  I don’t know which way you will be going when you leave Galveston, but you are welcome to leave the truck and trailer here while you explore Galveston.  It might be hard to navigate the streets and parking in Galveston.
“Be safe out there!  Rain has arrived again along with temps dropping back into the 40’s and 50’s.  It’s currently around 65° here.”
“We do plan to leave the trailer and Dodge... somewhere,” I replied.  “It all depends on what route we’ll take to head for home.  Larry has been looking at lists of parts he will need to repair the truck.  If he finds some at a good price and they’re not too far out of the way, we’ll pick them up before we turn north. 
“Good grief, I don’t think you want a flatbed trailer and a ker-smooshed truck sitting at your house!  Aaaiiiiyiiiyiiieee, that would take the value of your entire neighborhood down by a quarter mill.  Eh?  🤣
We would want a safe place for it, of course; we saw cars near Odessa that had evidently had mechanical mishaps of one sort or another, parked on the shoulders of the roads – and they’d been stripped clean of tires and wheels, headlights, taillights, sideview mirrors, and more! 
Larry got the proper wiring at Lowe’s, and put it on the trailer.  He’d done a temporary fix the previous evening, but one trailer wheel didn’t have brakes.  He told me it would be fine (he always thinks everything will be fine), but I know that if there’s ever a scary driving situation, particular with dumb drivers (we’re never the ‘dumb drivers’; it’s always ze uzzer guy who’s ze ‘dumb driver’), whether or not one’s rig is in good repair might make the difference in whether or not one can avoid an accident.
Soon Larry climbed in the pickup, started it ---- and off we went, 334 miles east across Texas. 
We came upon a large pickup truck loaded with long boxes going slowly (that is, the pickup was going slowly) (well, actually, the boxes were going slowly, too; but only because they were on the back of the pickup), hazard lights on, and we had to putter along behind him for a while until we got a chance to pass him. 
Larry’s explanation:  “He’s hauling light bulbs.”  (That’s his standard explanation anytime anyone is traveling slowly, or with hazard lights on for some unfathomable reason.)
Early that afternoon, we stopped at a convenience store where they had fresh pulled-pork BBQ sandwiches on their warmers, sending out tantalizing aromas.  I don’t particularly like barbecue flavors, but I have to admit, those sandwiches smelled good, probably because that half a sweet potato I had for breakfast had done worn off.  But... I don’t eat sandwiches in the early afternoon!  That’s a surefire recipe for weight gain, for me.  I thought maybe, just maybe, I could weasel a bite from Larry; that would be good enough.  I got myself a bottle of orange juice and called it good.
Back out at the pickup, Larry opened his sack to get out his sandwich – and there were two in there.  The lady had given us two – and charged us for them, too.
Larry didn’t mind; he could easily scarf down both.
I saved him from himself and ate a third of one.  I’m noble that way.
There were a lot of RV parks in that area of Texas; many of them are for transient workers, as there were oil wells everywhere, and new ones are being put in at a fast rate. 
Another observation about a significant part of the country we drove through:  the garbage alongside the highways is atrocious.  Not only did we see plastic bags, Styrofoam and cardboard and plastic cups, and other smallish bits and chunks of flotsam, we also saw a grand plenty of old couches and chairs, worn-out tires, and even a stove with most of its innards missing.  Ugh.

There were smokestacks here and there with flames shooting out of them.  I typed into Google, “Why are flames shooting out of smokestacks—” and Mr. Google pompously finished my sentence, “—in Texas.”  And here’s the answer:
That flame one sees burning at the top of a refinery’s pipe stack is an important, safe, and regulated part of the refining process.  Although the visual of a flickering flame is eye-catching, there is no need for alarm.  Flaring is a crucial, environmentally sound part of converting oil into gasoline and other products.
Flare stacks are primarily used to combust flammable gases that are released through pressure relief valves, rather than emit these gases directly to the atmosphere.  Pressure relief valves are essential safety devices that automatically release gas to protect against the danger of over-pressuring industrial equipment and possible equipment rupture.  Pressure relief valves are required by law through industrial design codes and standards.
Flaring also reduces emissions that would otherwise go into the atmosphere by 98%.  The process combusts and breaks down gaseous compounds from their original state to carbon dioxide.
As we traveled southeast, the fields and pastures and lawns changed from the golden-brown of winter colors to the bright green of spring.  Deciduous trees were acquiring a misty green tint, and, farther south, there were magnolias and cherry trees in blossom.
Some trees, still leafless, showed clearly those round clumps of green in the middle of them:  mistletoe.
By 2:30 p.m., we were in San Angelo, Texas, and in another hour we were in Eden, where it was 50°.  We were 157 miles from Belton, where Sue lives.
The fields were full of calves, kids, and lambs.  They peered out at us curiously from behind their mamas, while those same mamas didn’t so much as glance up from their grazing.   They’ve seen it all before.  😃
Our GPS jigsawed us across Texas on narrow, bumpy roads... but I don’t think there was much choice, really.
It sprinkled and drizzled part of the way.  We went through the little town of Rochelle, where a bright, flashing neon sign near Main St. proclaimed, “Buzzing with Pride!”  The high school football team is called the Hornets, and the stadium is named ‘Hornet Pride’.  But the town looks more like they should toll the death bells for it, what with most of the old store fronts all boarded up or the windows knocked out, one or the other.
We saw a lot of houses made of what appeared to be stone, and perhaps some of them, such as this pretty little house, actually were.  But others were crumbling to bits, and I wondered aloud, “What are all these ‘stone’ houses made out of, anyway?  Contact paper?”
We got to Johnny and Sue’s house about 7:00 p.m., and very much enjoyed meeting them.  While Sue showed me the machine and the huge collection of wonderful things she was giving me along with it, Larry and Johnny visited, and Larry unhitched the trailer and wrecked truck near Johnny’s boat and shed. 
Two of the items in the amazing assortment are sturdy, short-legged wooden tables that Johnny made.  One fits perfectly around the machine itself; the other fits around both the machine and the embroidery module when it is connected to the machine.  They are beautifully done – 2x4s cut in half and glued together, sanded smooth, then stained and varnished to perfection.
We saw evidence of Johnny’s skillful wood crafting throughout their home.
After leaving Johnny and Sue’s pretty home that night, Larry told me some of Johnny’s stories.  Imagine how I cringed over this tale:  Johnny made a woman a set of gorgeous birch cabinets, at her request.  He sanded them down beautifully, nice and smooth and ready for the stain and varnish of the woman’s choosing.
She chose...  blue paint.
Aaarrrggghhh!  Once one paints unvarnished wood, the paint soaks into that wood forever.  Johnny would’ve never, ever used birch wood, had he known that would be the outcome.
As I’ve mentioned, we were driving an extended cab 1996 Chevy pickup.  In 1996, Chevrolet did not make rear doors that opened on their extended cabs; in order to access the back seat, one must fold the back of the front seat down, and then slide the entire seat forward.
Since we were going to be gone for a week and would be traveling through a wide variety of weather, I packed quite a few bags of clothes, so we could layer as needed.  This meant... the pickup was nearly full already, before picking up the Bernina with its entourage.
(And no, I did not pack ‘too much stuff’, never mind whether or not we actually used it.  I did NOT pack too much stuff, ya hear?!)
Well, Larry pulled all those bags out of the truck in order to put the big Bernina suitcases and gear in first.  Then he began packing everything back in.  After two or three packing and repacking tries, everything was in there. 
But... was there room for me?!
San Sapa, Texas
My large camera case now had to rest at my feet beside the door, and every time I got in from that day until the day we got home, I had to swing my feet up and over that bag in order to seat myself.  And no, the bag couldn’t sit next to the center console, because then I would’ve had to sit crooked, which would’ve put me in misery.
But... I coped.  We need exercise on long driving trips, after all!  heh
Finally, we were ready to go.  We thanked Johnny and Sue again, wished them farewell, clambered into the pickup, and Larry turned the key.
The truck wouldn’t start. 
The dome light had been on the whole time Larry was packing, along with the power converter, and these ran the battery down – faster than it should’ve, I thought, since the battery had been new not so very long ago.  Turns out, the battery had lost a good percentage of its lifespan way back last October when Larry drove it to Lincoln and the clutch went out.  He’d turned the key on in order to run lights or windows or some such thing – and forgotten to turn it back off.  For a couple of months.  It sat forlornly awaiting its new clutch, and Larry didn’t discover the totally flat battery until he finally had time to work on that clutch.
“No problem,” said Larry, and pulled out his battery pack.
No go.
The battery pack was too low on juice to start the truck, as Larry had used it several times to power the air compressor to add air to the airbags. 
So Johnny backed their SUV out of the garage and jumped our pickup.  It still took a little while before it would start.  But we waited while it charged, and pretty soon, Voilá!  We were up and running again.
But... there was one more small problem:  the emergency brakes don’t work on that pickup, and Larry needed to put away his battery pack and a block of wood under one wheel.  And the truck is a manual shift, so someone needed to hold the brake pedal down while he did these things, as the driveway was on enough of a slope that the pickup would roll.
I hopped out, scurried around to the driver’s side, climbed in while Larry stood at the side, one leg inside the cab holding the brake pedal down, and then wiggled my foot onto the pedal whilst he wiggled his foot off the pedal.  He trotted around putting things away, then returned to the cab and we repeated the previous operation, in reverse – only this time it was more tricky, since I couldn’t stand outside the truck and stick one leg inside to hold the brake. 
But, with a bit of finagling, and with the pickup only rolling a few inches and nobody getting run over, we got ’er done.
I hurried back around to my side, remarking to Johnny and Sue, who stood by sympathetically (I think) watching the show, “I’m sure there’s a better way.”
They laughed.  (They’d probably been trying to keep from it for several minutes.)
We drove to Rockdale and stayed at a Days Inn motel.  Several times, in booking through Expedia.com, we have wound up with rooms at a discount, even up to half price.
It was a lovely room, but basketball players obviously helped design it, as they had the previous-night’s room.  The sinks were so high, I had to stand on my tiptoes to wash my face!
I’ve decided Larry has nighttime klepileptopsymania.  This is a combination of epilepsy and kleptomania, and exhibits with the supposedly-sleeping culprit suddenly kicking violently, then jerking all the covers away from his hapless bedmate. 
The bedmate doesn’t take these things lying down, I’ll have you know.  She fights back.
“If medical doctors don’t know there is such a thing as klepileptopsymania,” I told him the next morning, “It’s just ’cuz they’ve never watched you sleep!
Wednesday morning when we went to the breakfast nook in the motel, we could hear several children talking and playing in the adjoining meeting room.  We soon realized that they were one of the managers’ children, as he was keeping a close eye on them as he worked nearby. 
I looked up from my waffle to see an adorable little black boy peeking out the meeting-room door at me.  I grinned at him.  His eyes grew wide, and then he grinned back.  When he peeped out again, I gave him a little wave.  A few minutes later, he came sneaking out, crept up behind me as I was getting myself a glass of juice, and gave me a hug. 
I said, “Hi!” and patted his head, all full of soft little curls. 
So that’s one good friend I made with nothing but a grin and a wave, and I don’t even know his name, and probably will never, ever see him again.
A couple of hours later, as we were driving southward, we passed a little place out in the boonies, and on the garage door of the small building at the back, someone had painted “SHOP”.  I think we should grab some paint and a wide brush and paint “HOUSE” on the front of the other building, don’t you agree?  People clearly need to know.
There was a light rain falling, and it was 48°.
Two good things about this: 
1)    It was more restful on the eyes, and
2)    I could edit photos on my laptop without the sun glaring on the screen. 
Two bad things about this: 
1)    It was spoiling my pictures, and how would we see across the Gulf?!, and
2)    It was turning my hair-sprayed hair into a motorcycle helmet (which might turn out to be a good thing, should I bump my head on anything, or should a pickpocket try clubbing me:  I could just headbutt him.)
As we drove, I thought often and fondly about all that Bernina Stuff back behind the seat.  This Artista 730 has a nice big color screen... and it will even accept my embroidery cards.  I’ll be able to design things on my computer, and then transfer them to the machine.  I can use the fancy buttonhole CD Hannah gave me!  There are larger embroidery hoops, and designs will save much quicker.  I can ‘type’ things out, instead of going along punching o.n.e...l.e.t.t.e.r...a.t...a...t.i.m.e.
We kept seeing billboards for Cracker Barrel announcing, “30 meals for less than $8.99!” 
I said, “All of them, for less than $8.99?!  How does anyone eat that much?!” 
Look at this:  the azaleas were blooming!
That afternoon, I discovered a picture of Larry’s wrecked pickup sitting on his trailer – on my very own Quilt Talk group!  Sue had posted it, taking the picture from her front porch.  She wrote, “Here is the smashed truck and trailer making friends with Johnny’s boat on this rainy day.”  😄

Since a few people have been confused about this truck, here’s the story again:  Larry purchased the wrecked pickup for $6,500 online.  He will rebuild it.  It’s a 2017, and was still worth $45,000 when its previous owners crashed it.  The company from which we bought it purchased it before it was given a salvage title, so it still has a clear title, which is always a good thing.  We’re hauling the truck on one of Larry’s flatbed trailers.
2:00 p.m. found us in Cypress, a northwest suburb of Houston.  We would be traveling through Houston and several more of its suburbs (it has about 15) for another 1 ½ hours to get to Galveston.  Houston has a population of 2.313 million (according to the 2017 census) – and the Greater Houston area with all her suburbs has a population of 7 million people. 
Wow.  The entire state of Nebraska only has a population of 1.929 million, and the greater percentage of those are in Lincoln and Omaha.
The rain nearly stopped, and we were hopeful that the sky would clear, but it wasn’t 15 minutes before it was raining like anything again.  I wondered how those motorcycles ahead of us liked it.
(Well, the motorcycles were probably neither this way nor that way about it.  It’s the riders who were likely feeling a bit like swamp creatures.)
A great part of the city seemed to consist of oil wells, derricks, refineries, oil tanks, and manufacturing facilities for the production of each of the abovementioned entities.
“You’d definitely want to call Digger’s Hotline if you were digging around here,” remarked Larry, watching a backhoe deftly working its way between a row of red flags.
The majority of my shots in Houston, I think, are of multiple layers of bridges going every which way.

I did get a few really lousy photos of the Houston skyline.  Distance, weather, bad roads, and a bouncy pickup were all conspiring against me.  But here it is.
We stopped at a convenience store and got cartons of green grapes, purple grapes, and fresh pineapple.  I opened the carton of red grapes.  The lid was tight, and when it finally popped off, grapes shot around all over the place, making Larry laugh at me.  (I did manage to capture them all, wipe them off, and put them back into the container.)
Larry ate green grapes, then put the lid back on.  I ate purple grapes, then put the lid back on, having quite a bit of difficulty on account of it being such a tight fit.  As soon as the lid was in place, Larry announced that he wanted some.
“Why’d you wait ’til I closed it to say so?!” I griped, prying the lid off again.
And once again, grapes shot around everywhere.  Larry laughed all the harder.
The grapes were good (dirt from the floor notwithstanding), and the pineapple was totally scrumptious.
A little while later, we went over a bridge, and there, off to the left, was... ... ... the Gulf of Mexico!
We drove southwest on Galveston Island to Jamaica Beach, San Luis Beach, and took the Bluewater Highway Bridge over San Luis Pass, with Chocolate Bay on the north and the Gulf of Mexico on the south.  We were surprised to discover that it’s a toll bridge, and cost $2.00 each way.  It was much too far to go around, at that hour of the evening, so we just paid the tab.
Finding a lane leading to a public-access beach, we turned that way.  It was cold and windy, but we put on coats and hats and walked to the water’s edge to watch the big waves cresting and frothing up onto the sand.  There were several kinds of sandpipers, along with brown pelicans, terns, and seagulls.  This is a laughing gull.  He doesn’t find anything humorous at the moment.
Upon reaching Surfside Beach, where the road turns inland, we made an about-face and headed back, driving right on the beach itself for some distance.
The houses on pilings truly amazed us.  Some were unbelievably high, higher than those we saw along the Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana coasts back in 2013.  Many were gorgeous mansions, and a large percentage were new, built since Hurricane Ike devastated the island in September of 2008.
We took our things into our room at the Beachcomber Inn at Galveston, right across the street from the Gulf.  The waters were turbulent, and breakers came curling and crashing onto the shore.  Very satisfactory.

Then off we went to find something good to eat.  I was determined to find an excellent seafood restaurant, because there were a couple of dishes I particularly wanted to try.  I hunted around online, and chose the restaurant:  Landry’s Seafood House.
I had crawfish bread with ‘crawfish tails, mozzarella, Louisiana spices, tomatoes, and garlic’, along with crab and shrimp gumbo, made with ‘dirty rice’.  Larry had a plate with a variety of seafood, vegetables, and dirty rice.  What I’d really wanted to try was crawfish, but the crawfish bread was the closest I could find on the menu. 
We’d no sooner given our waiter our order, than I spotted one of those stand-up menus in a little wooden frame at the other end of our table, advertising crawfish!  Rats.  No, crawfish.
When the waiter returned, I told him this tale, saying I’d never had crawfish before, and asked if I could have just one (as opposed to the whole plateful).  He took my request to the kitchen – and soon returned, bearing a pretty little saucer with not one, but two little red crawfish, boiled and spiced to perfection.  He even told us exactly how to twist them apart and eat the tail meat (which is the only part of crawfish one eats).  They didn’t even charge us for this ‘delicacy’; they sent it out ‘compliments of the kitchen’.  😊😋
We cracked open our crawfish and gave them a try.  Tasty.  A lot of work to go to for one small bite, though, should one happen to be starved.

The rest of the food was really good, too.  I took most of the crawfish bread back to the motel in a little Styrofoam box.  Restaurants serve such large portions!  I can’t eat that much.
Thursday, we did some exploring around Galveston.  It was still rainy, windy, and cold.
The old houses in Galveston’s Strand Historic District are something to see.  Too bad the day was so dark and gloomy! – many of my pictures were no good.



Below is a once-stately mansion that’s in sorry shape; sad that it’s been left to deteriorate like that.
We would’ve liked to have seen Moody Gardens and the Aquarium, but decided it was too expensive.
We went into Murdoch’s big souvenir store (the photos of Larry and me were taken on their deck), and got a small wooden and canvas boat to give Johnny as a thank-you for storing our trailer and wrecked pickup at his house for a couple of days.
Then Larry headed northeast on the Seawall Boulevard without really knowing where he was heading at all, as he is oft wont to do, and we wound up at the East End Lagoon Nature Preserve, looking out into the Inner Bar Channel with the Gulf beyond, where were anchored many big ships. 

Flocks of terns, laughing gulls, ring-billed gulls, great-tailed grackles, and even colorful pigeons entertained us as Larry tossed them pieces of crackers.  They were so tame (or brazen, one or the other), they’d hover (well, the terns are the only ones of the above-mentioned birds that can really hover very well) right outside our vehicle window, screeching for more.  What a ruckus they made, screaming and diving to snatch crackers in midair when they spotted one flying their way!

I looked at a map on my laptop, and discovered where we were.  Not wanting very badly to go back through Houston, we instead decided to take the Galveston-Port Bolivar Ferry across the Texas City Channel, a part of Galveston Bay.
It’s a component of the highway system, so it’s free.  The seagulls, terns, brown pelicans, and great-tailed grackles follow the boats all the way, and the grackles land right on it, and on the vehicles.  They have quite pretty whistles and chatter noises, and are so fun to watch, with their long, fan-shaped, glistening purple/indigo/black tails.  They’re similar, but quite different from, our common grackles.  Some people don’t like them, but I really love to watch and hear them.

As we were approaching the dock on the other side of the channel, we passed a rock jetty completely covered with both brown and white pelicans, cormorants, and laughing gulls.
Below is the Point Bolivar Light, a historic lighthouse in Port Bolivar, Texas, that was built in 1872.  It served for 61 years before being retired in 1933.
A little before 5:00 p.m., we got to Winnie, Texas, a little town with a population of 3,254 in far southeast Texas.  We stopped at an O’Reilly’s Auto Parts store, and Larry bought a step for the side of the pickup so I could get in and out easier.  Too many ins and outs, too much turning this way and that to take pictures while driving Galveston Island, and I’d hurt a rib so badly, I could hardly get a good breath of air.  I took some Advil, and it felt a little better.
The step helped immensely.
It would’ve been a lot prettier had it been sunny instead of rainy, but at least the clouds were in interesting layers.  Still, a lot of my pictures are blurry, because it was too dark, and the pickup was too bouncy.
We were driving through Sour Lake, Texas, a little before 6:00 p.m., when Larry spotted a quilt shop called Quilts, Etc. 
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “I’d intended to look for a quilt shop in Galveston to get something for Sue, and totally forgot!”
Larry obligingly went around the block, and we went in.  I chose a quilt kit and several fat quarters for Sue.  I got a ceramic coaster with a Basket of Lilies quilt block painted on it, and a couple of fabric panels – and Larry found a panel with deer on it that he wanted.  He rarely asks me to make anything for him, so when he asks, I comply.  But you’ll have to wait your turn, dear.
Keith texted me, asking how badly wrecked the Dodge pickup is. 
“Well, I think it looks like a heat-seeking missile hit it,” I told him, “but Daddy’s been whistling happily ever since we picked it up.”
His response:  😂🤣
We stopped at a convenience store that evening.  I started to fill a Styrofoam cup with coffee from one of those big Thermos pumps, when the little old man working there came running at me full blast, waving his hands, shaking his head, and crying, “No coppee!!  NO COPPEE!!”
I smiled and nodded and put the cup back. 
Do you think those Thermoses blow up if you press the thingy on the top when they’re empty????  😲
Or maybe he just didn’t want me taking all the dregs that he takes home to brew more ‘coppee’.  😛 😜
We stayed at the Baymont Inn in College Station, Texas, that night.
Wouldn’t you know, it was sunny and nice in Galveston Friday.  🙄😏
We headed toward Belton to pick up the pickup (sounds sort of like ‘quilting a quilt’). 
In one of the little towns we passed through, we went bounce-jouncing around a corner lickety-split, and my very large Styrofoam cup of coffee leaped out of the holder and committed suicide right at Larry’s feet.  Fortunately, it had had time to cool off, so he didn’t get burned.  I accused him of making it fall out on purpose, since he’d asked why I was getting such a huge cup in the first place.  Amazingly enough, only a couple of inches of coffee spilled; 80% of it was still in the cup.  It was Texas pecan coffee, really good stuff.  Gotta order some of that!

We pulled into the drive of a little church and poured the coffee off of the rubber floor mat, then proceeded on our way.
We got to Johnny and Sue’s house about 1:30 p.m.  Sue was at a quilting retreat, but Johnny was there.  We hadn’t been able to get him on the phone, so we just drove in unannounced, and Larry went to pounding on things with crowbars and hammers and monkey wrenches.  Worked much better than doorbells and telephones; Johnny was soon coming out to see us.  😅  (Since someone will doubtless take me serious, I should explain that Larry wasn’t making all that racket just to bring Johnny out; he was hitching up the trailer to the Chevy.)

People are kind of free with their terminology around Clifton, Texas; I don’t think one smallish lump in the terrain makes a ‘mountain’, do you?  Yet a ranch we went by was called ‘Wild Mountain Ranch’, and there was only one small hill, and nothing wild about it.  They must be wannabe mountain dwellers, just like us.
I spotted a wide concrete drainage ditch built into the side of a hill.  I pointed it out to Larry:  “Look, there’s a runaway ramp.” 
Larry glanced at it and replied, “Uh-huh.  It’s for motorcycles.”  😂
The clutch on the pickup wasn’t working just the best (unless it’s the transmission; the matter is up for debate), so Larry began looking for a good place to stop and work on it. 
After peering at the map on my laptop, I told him, “There’s a nice big cemetery at the next little town.”
“That would be good,” agreed Larry.  “I could pull the left front tire up on a tombstone, and lift it just the right amount.”
We drove on, and instead went to the Hico City Park, where there was a nice paved shelter plenty big enough to pull into.



The dandelions are already going to seed down there, and starting on the next batch.  Here in Nebraska, the dandelions are still hibernating and shivering from the cold.
When Larry completed the operation, we departed with great expectations for a
smoother shifting experience.
Our hopes were soon dashed.  The clutch grabbed just as badly as ever, and the gears were still prone to grind and clash when trying to put it into third gear.  Larry says it’ll probably require a new transmission.    And yes, this is that pickup he took on trade from that young man who assured him that everything was totally redone with new parts, and there were no problems whatsoever.

Hungry, we started looking for a restaurant.  I found a review for the ‘Hashknife on the Chisholm’ restaurant in Salesville, Texas, north of Mineral Wells:  Regularly with a welcoming demeanor. The food is conveniently priced, regularly delicious and clean.”
How ’bout that.  They evidently hire raccoons to wash your food before they bring it to you! 
About this time, our appetites were abated somewhat by the aromatic suggestion that yet another skunk had met its waterloo, and we had just passed the site of the carnage.  Pewweeeee!  It’s a wonder there are any skunks left in the world, as many as they run over down there.
I found reviews on the Green Frog Restaurant in Jacksboro, including this one:  “Best frog legs I’ve ever eaten!  George Straight eats here every time he’s nearby.”
The owner’s answer:  “Thanks for the kind review, but we don’t serve frog legs.”
Hahaha
The reviewer is doubtless now wondering, What on earth was that I ate then, anyway?!!!
There was a brilliant sundog in the sky that evening as the sun was going down.
We ate at the Green Frog, Buffet-Style, All You Can Eat Restaurant – and it was very good.  There were no frog legs.
A mother at the next table told one of her small sons to ‘talk nice, because God doesn’t like it when you aren’t nice.”

I think she was trying to impress us, because it became obvious it was something she hadn’t before told him when he exclaimed, “Waaaaait!!!!  How would He know?!”
“Because God is everywhere,” she told him.  “He’s all around you, and hears everything you say.”
“Oh!!!  I know now!” yelled sonny triumphantly.  “He’s just like Santa Claus!”
(Funny, that was my precise thought just as she was explaining it.)
She smiled fondly on her offspring and assured him he was exactly right.  🙄
Leaving the restaurant, we headed on north toward Bowie, Texas.  The posted speed limit was 75 mph – but it was a two-lane road, and horribly rough.  We went around a corner where another road intersected the one we were on, and the reflectors and signs made it nearly impossible to see where we were supposed to go.  Had we been going 75 mph, both pickups, Chevy and Dodge alike, plus the flatbed, would’ve been out in yonder pasture.

At one junction there was a sign informing us that to the left was the little town of Vashti, while to the right was Bugscuffle Road.  😄
We stayed in America’s Best Value Inn in Bowie.  “It’s a nooo rooom!” the owner told Larry with great excitement, and obvious disappointment that I had booked online and somehow gotten a 50% discount.  (No, I don’t know how I did it, either.)  “You get much mo’ for you moneys!!!” 
The sink in that motel room made up for those others that were too high:  I could’ve washed my face in this one while kneeling on the floor.  Don’t motel manufacturers have any common measurements for stuff like this??
The nooo roooom consisted of an old room with a new paint job, somewhat wild and garish, where nothing coordinated in the slightest.  One wall was done in wide stripes of orange and bright sky blue, the stuffed chair and curtains were in burgundy and maroon, respectively, and the bedspread and ruffle were in mustard and rust.  But there was an adorable little old-fashioned red Frigidaire in there (though it was lacking one handle).  I want a cute little red Frigidaire in my house! 



This was supposed to be a non-smoking room.  What, then, was an ashtray doing on the desk?!  At least nothing smelled like smoke.
It smelled like paint.
But finally, we had a motel room with a heat lamp in the bathroom... (Why do they rarely have those things anymore??  It gets cold in there.)  So I, all pleased, gathered up my paraphernalia, went in there to have a shower, turned on the heat lamp -------- 
It was the wrong kind of bulb.  Didn’t even get warm to the touch. 
Here’s a conundrum:  In the same motel room where you have to kneel to reach the sink, the commode is so high, one can swing one’s feet!
(Okay, sorry; that was TMI.)
The floor in that ‘nooo roooom’ was a replica of old barn planks.  Now, it’s not that I dislike old barn planks; I actually think they are perfect in certain settings.  (Old barns, for instance.)  But somehow, well, ... it’s just that I sorta like plushy >>clean<< carpet in motel rooms.  Sigggghhhh...
There were no USB ports in that room, though there were a couple of ethernet ports.  Do people still use those??  Nooo roooom indeed.
Another thing – a small thing, but a thing, nonetheless:  those who decide where the trashcans should be placed in motel rooms must not have ever actually stayed in a motel room – or if they did, they never used a trashcan.  They often never put one in the bathroom, particularly when the sink is on the outside of said bathroom.  But a trashcan is needed in a bathroom, whether there’s a sink in there or not.  This room had a trashcan right beside the front door, so that you ka-bonked into it when you walked in.  It was likely put there by the trash collector, so he wouldn’t even have to set foot inside the room whilst collecting trash.  (I moved it.)
There was a lovely, soft, duvet on the bed-------- but it was covered with one of those nasty, horrid poly-rayon bedspreads!!!  Arrgghh, such sacrilege.  Most motel-room duvets are covered below and above with nice sheets, and I understand that.  But poly-rayon?!!!  😲😝
Yeah, I’m a Royal Penthouse Suite girl on a Dew Drop Inn budget.
Curling my hair the next morning, I kept thinking I was hearing Tiger snoring—until it finally dawned on me, someone on the other side of the wall was snoring.  🤣
We ate some breakfast in the breakfast room.  It was fine, but there weren’t many food choices.  We filled our lidded coffee mugs and went on our way.  After a few miles, I happily picked up my mug and took a sip.
!
What on earth do motels make their coffee out of?  Tar and turpentine??  Arrgghh.  Where’s some Texas Pecan coffee when you need it?!
By 11:00 a.m., we were on Rte. 81, and would stay on it all the way to Columbus, except for a short stint on I35.  Both roads are dreadfully rough.  I always worry whether or not the chains holding whatever it is we are hauling will hold.  😬
In Marlow, Oklahoma, almost all the bottoms of the tree trunks were painted white.
I looked it up, and found this:
 It's time for the White Trees to shine again, and this year, not just on Broadway:
The Marlow High School and Junior High Wrestling Teams are continuing the tradition of the white-washed tree painting along Broadway/Highway 81, North and South of Main Street.
The painted trees have become a tourist attraction and help in creating uniqueness in our small town.
We are expanding our efforts this year and opening up the tree painting to Marlow residents for the first time ever!
The wrestlers will be painting the trees Saturday, June 25, with a lime mixture so that it will endure the harsh Oklahoma weather that Oklahoma sometimes experiences. This is a community service to raise money for the Marlow Outlaw Wrestling program. The donated funds will go toward wresting gear and uniforms, camp fees, facility improvements, etc.
We greatly appreciate any donation that you are willing to put forth.
Thank you again for supporting you Marlow Outlaws!
Andy Howington
Head Wrestling Coach


Hmmm, how ’bout that.
We knew we were getting back to the north when we started seeing ice on the lakes and ponds.  But the birds are already migrating, and we saw thousands of Sandhill cranes, Canada and snow geese, and various other kinds of ducks and geese.  It looks so funny, when there are ducks and geese on the lakes, and sometimes they’re right next to each other, but some are swimming in the water, while others are standing tall on the ice, just inches apart.
We ate at the Olive Garden in Salina that evening, using a gift card from Keith and Korrine.  I had calamari and Italian chili.  Imagine my surprise when I decided to pull out my phone and inquire, “What is calamari?” – only to discover... I was eating squid!!!  Amazingly enough, I liked it.  Granted, it was breaded squid, fried crispy, and there were two different kinds of yummy sauce, one hot, one cold, both spicy and good, to dip it in.  I think maybe I wouldn’t want to eat boiled rubbery squid, all by itself.  😜
This oil well is located near Lubbock, Texas.  How many oil wells can you see?  How many derricks?
Would you believe, there are eleven oil wells and at least twelve derricks?  Might’ve been able to see even more, had we not been bouncing madly down the highway when I took the picture.
Hannah called to tell us that she’d just opened the bag of dry cat food that came from Wal-Mart a few days ago.  It was a huge, heavy bag that she could barely drag into the house.  Wal-Mart ships such bags in large, white, heavy-duty vinyl bags.  Since Hannah couldn’t lift the cat-food bag out of the white shipping bag, she opened the top of each bag, planning to dip out food for the cats’ bowls.
She scooped it out – and discovered... it wasn’t cat food.
Pulling the white vinyl away from the side of the food bag, she read, “Ol’ Roy Complete Nutrition T-Bone & Bacon Flavor Dog Food.
“Did I order the wrong thing?” I wondered, and looked it up on my computer.
Nope, I’d ordered Meow Mix Original Choice Dry Cat Food, as intended.
We stopped at the Wal-Mart in York to get a bag of dry cat food.  Upon leaving the store, we thought to cross the highway and go to the Sapp Bros. Truck Stop.  The store exit was on a steep slope, and the clutch or transmission had not improved with usage.  No cars were coming, so Larry, hoping to avoid jerking the pickup, didn’t quite come to a complete stop.
He was almost across the near lanes when he noticed that the median was curbed.  So he pulled into the turning lane, watching for the truck stop entrance ---- and then belatedly realized that he was indeed in a turning lane, ... ... ... for oncoming traffic.
Fortunately, York is a smallish town, population about 7,800; and, as it was past midnight, there were no cars in sight.
Except for the local policeman.
Almost instantly, there were flashing red and blue lights behind us.  Siggghhhh...
Larry handed over registration, driver’s license, and insurance card, and in his usual apologetic way explained what had happened.
And again as usual, the patrolman was sympathetic, gave him a warning, and then backed out of the way, leaving his flashers on, so Larry could safely back up the few feet needed to reposition and get back in the proper lane.
We drove around the spinney, found the entrance (and the correct lane from which to get into it), and pulled into Sapp Bros. in an extremely safe and prudent fashion.  🥴😇
We got home somewhere around 2:00 a.m.  The cats are delighted to have us home.  😻😻 Just look how excited they are.
Larry managed to go to church in the morning, but my ribs, hips, neck, shoulders, knees, and ankles were complaining much too loudly to get up and get ready when my alarm went off.  So, after making sure Larry was awake, I went back to sleep for a couple of hours.  By the evening service, I had recovered pretty well, so I went to church.

Larry came home at noon today and got the vinyl flooring for the laundry room cut; it was lying there ready to be glued and rolled flat when he went back to work.  It’s been four weeks since the washer sprung a leak and created a waterfall into the basement.  I have a lot of clothes to wash!  Larry has washed some of his work clothes at Walkers’ shop, but it’s still a mighty good thing we have lots and lots (and lots) of clothes.  😏
This evening he painted a friend’s bumper, and when that was done, he came home and glued the flooring down. 

This afternoon, I clicked ‘Contact Us’ on Wal-Mart’s webpage, intending to use the Chat function to tell them of the cat food versus dog food mix-up.  But... Where’s the ‘Chat’ option?  Seems to have vanished.  That’s happen before.  Do all the chatters go on strike, and take the Chat button with them as they go?
I called instead, and, as usual, talked to a nice young woman whom I could barely understand, and who could barely understand me.  But in the end, all was well, and she promised to send me the bag of cat food I had ordered.  (If it winds up being gerbil food, it is NOT my fault.)  As for the dog food, I can give it to someone, and there will be no charge for it.
It’s Victoria’s 23rd birthday today.  She’s our youngest.  Our oldest, Keith, turned 40 two days ago.  Astonishing, how that happens.  I’m giving Victoria my wonderful and much-loved Bernina 830 Record, so I need to clean out the cabinet.  I have that thing filled to capacity.
Victoria has a Bernina 810 – just like the 830 Record, but without the open arm, and with a few less fancy stitches. 
We got it on eBay for $100 several years ago.  I’d put it in my watch list, knowing it was a bargain; but then thought maybe I shouldn’t spend the money.  The auction ended while Victoria and I were at church. 
Larry had stayed home, as he wasn’t feeling well – an unusual occurrence, for him.  He was watching the church service on my laptop when an eBay notification popped up, informing him that the auction was nearly over.  There were no other bidders on it; the price was still at $100.
He promptly bought it, never mind the fact that he had no idea what I wanted it for.  He just saw ‘Bernina’ and ‘$100’, and thought, Buy it!!!  Buy it!!!  Buy it!!!
It’s worth at least $500; that was a smashing deal.  It had been used in a home ec classroom and was very well maintained.  However, it does not have the electronic foot pedal that mine does, and it takes off with quite a lurch every time one steps on the pedal.  It’s sooo much nicer, when one has good control of one’s foot pedal and speed!  (Granted, Victoria herself is prone to take off from anything, anywhere, with a lurch; so you’d think it would’ve been an excellent fit.  haha)
My rectangular glass earth-toned beads that I ordered for the Atlantic Beach Path quilt arrived while I was gone, but no hexagon-shaped Swarovski crystals have come.  I suspect they’re in the package awaiting me at the post office; the silly shipper thought I needed to sign for them.  Aarrgghh, that’s aggravating when they do that, causing me an otherwise needless trip to town, because they invariably come when I’m washing my hair or otherwise unavailable.
Birds are beginning to sing their mating songs here!  There’s a joyful noise in our trees.  It’s a sunny 45° today.
Last Monday, Hannah sent me a picture of a box that had arrived nearly ripped open; it had been put on the porch between the house and a flowerpot, and was all ripped up.  Other packages were in a different flowerpot.  Must be a different FedEx driver (again)?
For months one of those guys brought boxes right when I was washing my hair... so he never saw me.  Then one time he popped open the door, said “FedEx,” sat the box down without looking up, straightened – and there I was by the table not five feet away from him.  Jumped clean outer’n his hide, he did.
Sometimes when something strange happens in their delivery/box placement mode, it’s because there’s a different guy running the route.  Some of them don’t have enough grey mattuh in ze ol’ punkin to make batting for a potholder.  Others just seem that way, because they’re mad at the world, and take out their vengeance on my box.
That box that had nearly been ripped apart contained my new Logitech wireless ergonomic keyboard.  Fortunately, it was in its own box inside the bigger one – but there was only one small scrap of brown paper in there to supposedly ‘cushion’ it!  Amazingly enough, it works.
My old one went kaput the day we left for Texas.  I think I’d used that keyboard with the last three laptops.  I’m glad to have one now with the small USB receiver; the receiver on the old keyboard was an inch and a half long, and forever getting in the way of things.  This one, however has a ‘sleep/hibernate/power off’ button on the top right corner.  I found this out by accident.  😲
And now, I shall get back to quilting, yeehaw!  (Seemed appropriate, since everyone kept saying ‘y’all’ to me last week.)


,,,>^..^<,,,          Sarah Lynn          ,,,>^..^<,,,




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