Celia Hayes – The Accidental Texan

This week, my daughter had to get a new veteran ID card, since she had her VA disability upgraded. Yes, service in the Marines for two strenuous hitches came at a physical price. She made an appointment at the Randolph AFB ID section to bring in all the supporting paperwork, and then we were reminded that my original issue blue retiree ID card wouldn’t be valid after the end of this month, never mind that it was supposed to be valid indefinitely. So she suggested that I come with her to the appointment and see if the issuing office couldn’t process both of ours at the same whack. This necessitated bringing Wee Jamie along, in the folding Cocomelon stroller that he is about two inches from out growing entirely.

Anyway, her appointment was early enough in the business day that there wasn’t much of a crowd, although I expect there will be a rush this week of retiree veterans like myself, replacing our old blue veteran ID.

To our relief, they were agreeable to doing both of our ID cards on the same appointment, even if I was a last-minute addition to the schedule. The tech processing our new cards was a female airman one-striper – competent and well-spoken, but seeming so very, very young. (Baby troops are so cute when they are little, and just barely housebroken…) Anyway, there was a bit of amusement when she initially read my daughter’s documents as having been a Marine at the rank of captain, and both my daughter and I burst out laughing. No, we were both NCOs and fiercely proud of it, although I expounded a bit on how sometimes certain people in certain skills have an invisible, much higher rank than their actual pay grade. The example I gave was that of a CID NCO, and of my own, when I was doing the regular radio news program at AFKN-Seoul.

I should have mentioned other specialties which have the invisible higher rank in the grand military scheme of things, and thus are sought out and respected by those in the know: the junior enlisted computer or mechanical expert who is gifted beyond all expectation, the clerk who can sort  out the most stubborn administrative tangle, that one NCO who knows everyone and plays the system like YoY o Ma plays the cello – they have an invisible rank and respect far beyond their actual stripes. My daughter added another piece of advice, which may have been more relevant to the Marine Corps, which run maybe 3% female, than to the Air Force, which stood at 13-15%. Her suggestion was to network extensively with other female NCOs, when our baby troop achieves that rank …and then we finished up getting the new ID cars, and left, with Wee Jamie still behaving very well.

But as we left, I thought of all the advice that we could have added; that a female NCO rightfully ought to keep her personal life a mystery to co-workers. That when suggesting some new process or way of doing things to a supervisor, one ought to volunteer to do the hard work on it yourself – because there will inevitably be work involved with a new process. That there are only about six different ways to do anything at all in the military, all of them about equally efficient, and usually it’s just a matter of habit and inertia that favors one above the other five …

Then I remembered that we were about old enough to have been mother and grandmother to the young one-striper, and realized that – well, there are some things that one has to figure out on ones’ own to really, really stick.

Be to her, Persephone,

All the things I might not be:

Take her head upon your knee.

She that was so proud and wild,

Flippant, arrogant and free,

She that had no need of me,

Is a little lonely child

Lost in Hell,—Persephone,

Take her head upon your knee:

Say to her, “My dear, my dear,

It is not so dreadful here.”

Prayer To Persephone – Edna St. Vincent Millay

One thing and another has led the garden at the back of the house to have become a total wreck. Between Snowmagedden 2021, some hard freezes over winters since – the back yard was not a refreshing sight. Two sapling fruit trees were killed outright, one was half dead branches, and the fourth may or may not leaf out at all in the next few weeks. This is exasperating, as the nectarine that we planted in front at about the time is thriving, grown to a nice size and produced a bumper crop of fruit last spring. The three grape vines that I also planted to grow up and cover the long arbor were also savaged by frost. I think that two are still alive, but I need to go out and trim the many dead branches.

The yard was also piled high with oak leaves from my next-door neighbor’s humongous oak tree – which is only a fair exchange, as my Arizona trash tree in the front has piled lavish quantities of dead leaves along the edge of their driveway. The various firebush plants, though, have naturalized and spread, and there is a volunteer Esperanza which has grown to a pretty good height. But all these native shrubs first went overgrown and sprawling, before the last cold snap killed off most of their leaves … so my back yard, which has on occasion looked like a veritable garden paradise; lush, flowering and green, now looks like something you’d see around the Addams family mansion – all dead stems and dried leaves. The raised beds are all empty of anything but compacted soil and more dead leaves. The last few years, a lot of my time and energy has been spent helping to take care of Wee Jamie. But this spring, I have reached a limit; I am tired of looking at the ruin.

This week, I’ve set aside some me-in-the-garden time, sweeping up and filling the recycle bin with oak leaves, trimming back the overgrown branches, and running them through the mulcher, to make some mulch chips to put on the raised beds and on the space that I planted some sun-loving daylilies and delphiniums that came in an assortment from Costco. I also splurged and bought a young mandarin orange in a 5-gallon pot from the same place, at half the price that it would have been from one of the plant nurseries. I wanted to buy one last year, but Costco’s small trees and shrubs are seasonal, and once they appear, they aren’t there for long.

I’d like to plan on reviving many of the hanging plants in baskets, as well. The hot weather last summer killed all of the Boston ferns, and a couple of years ago, all my spider plants had their roots eaten by thirsty squirrels. The hardscape, the pavers and the stone bed borders are all in good shape, but the chicken coop needs a new roof over the run area before we start with chickens again.

Mid-March is the last time that we can expect a winter frost in these parts – I’m also hoping that this summer is not going to be one of those hideously hot and dry ones. I also have all the tubes and drip emitters to revitalize the drip system in back – and that ought to take care of keeping what I have planted this weekend in good shape. Fingers crossed. I want a pretty garden again!

Well, actually two milestones; both just around the corner. One would be the final mortgage payment on Chez Hayes – the little suburban cottage patch of paradise that I bought two years before I retired from the Air Force in 1997. Thirty-year mortgage at an 8-point something rate of interest, but no down payment, because of being under the grace and favor of the VA. Yes, that rate seems high – but as my daughter the real estate agent tells me – historically pretty much the average. I never refinanced, as it seemed to be just too much trouble collecting up the documentation and paying for an appraisal and never took out any equity loans because that never really appealed to me as an option. In a relatively rare moment of economic sanity, I opted on a price for the house and sliver of garden, which gave me a mortgage payment that amounted to one-quarter of my monthly income at the time. This was about the same amount that I had usually paid in rent … so I was pre-programmed for that regular expense. There were times, post-retirement where the wolf lurked at the bottom of the driveway – but I was always able to scrape through.

The assessed value is now a little more than double the original price it went for in 1995. I have since been able to renovate the original back deck into a covered screened porch, renovated both bathrooms, replace the original contractor grade windows, siding, garage door, and the roof – that last, twice over, which is about par for this part of Texas. There are a couple more things I want to do, when there is a bit more money in hand after the mortgage is done: mainly, revamp the kitchen and install nice vinyl flooring in the rest of the house. This waits on my daughter buying her own place for herself and Jamie.

The other milestone is the legal settlement for the auto accident in July, which totaled Thing the Versa has been finalized. A nice check will be coming my way in another week or so. I was comprehensively bruised and badly shaken, besides sustaining some injuries which only became apparent afterwards. A good friend of ours, who is also Wee Jamie’s godfather, insisted that we should get an injury lawyer – a firm which he could personally recommend. So we did; it was a piece of good fortune for me, I suppose, that the other driver was not only clearly at fault (he bombed out of a parking lot and T-boned the Versa, passing by in the inside lane) but was also insured. This isn’t always the case, lately.

The payment won’t be enough for another car, as the injury lawyer assured me – but it will pay down a couple of outstanding accounts, mostly to do with the windows and the siding, and allow us to stay in hotels when we do book events a good bit from home. So, we are very happy with how 2025 is turning out for us, personally.

A couple of weeks ago, I started a sourdough starter, thinking that experimenting with home-baked sourdough bread would be another nice way to ensure good bread at a more bearable price than from the HEB bakery. The starter has developed a very rich, sour flavor on a rate of being fed every other day with half a cup of water and half a cup of flour and kept on the kitchen counter. But I haven’t baked a loaf of bread with it yet … and that was because I found another recipe for home-baked crackers made with sourdough discard starter. Unless you constantly bake with the starter, a certain amount has to be routinely discarded, otherwise it would take over. I ran across the recipe for crackers, tinkered with it … and we like the resulting crackers to much that I haven’t yet done a loaf of bread!

Preheat the oven to 320°. Cover the bottom of a 10×15 sheet pan with a piece of parchment paper and lightly spritz with oil. The parchment paper is absolutely key.

Melt ¼ cup butter and mix with 1 ½ cup of starter discard. The starter should be about the consistency of heavy cream or thin cake batter. The butter and starter mixture will cover the bottom of the sheet pan/oiled parchment in a thin layer. Sprinkle evenly with ¼ to 1/3 of a cup of Everything But the Bagel seasoning mixture. (The original recipe called for Italian seasoning, or Herbs de Provence, and a sprinkle of salt, but we liked the Everything But the Bagel season the absolute best.)

Bake for 10-15 minutes, remove from oven and lightly score with a knife into equal squares. The top of the cracker mixture should look a bit dry and not be liquid. Bake for another 15-20 minutes until lightly browned and beginning to separate along the scored divisions. Turn off the oven and allow to cool and dry-crisp the crackers. Absolutely yummy.

We were finally able to replace the big side-by side GE refrigerator-freezer; an appliance which turned out after half a dozen years of use to be a crashing disappointment. The various plastic bins and drawers inside began disintegrating at a rapidly increasing rate, to the point where one was barely held together with epoxy glue and strips of duct tape. The outside finish on the top was scratched heavily and was so thin that the metal underneath began to rust. Then the ice maker stopped working – followed by the door water dispenser. It wasn’t the top of the line appliance, just one of the more budget-friendly models, but I honestly expected it to function for much longer than it did, and have the plastic drawers and all last at least a decade. Anyway, we went straight to Lowes’ and added a new dishwasher to the shopping list. Both were delivered and installed in recent days, although after seeing the mess underneath and behind the old refrigerator, I am only grateful that I don’t know the installers socially. (My daughter says that they probably see worse … much, much worse.) The dishwasher and refrigerator are both stainless steel finish, and a modest upgrade to what they replaced. The refrigerator is a Frigidaire countertop depth, which gives back a little more space in the kitchen – French doors with the freezer below in a deep drawer. I rather like it, because I can reach inside without bending over or moving a few steps, while cooking at the stove. The dishwasher operates near silently and plays few bars of a pretty little chime when it finishes cycling through. I wish it were possible to program it to play something like the Flower Song from Lakme – likely, the top-of-the-line version offers that version. Anyway, that’s my week on the home front – how was yours?