Joyce came by for coffee this morning. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since my wedding, but Grant has been telling Dr. Scherer all about Joey’s progress, so Joyce came by to see for herself.
As we sipped cappuccino and discussed the risk of ennui in Coldwater during the winter, she offered a terrific idea to keep Joey and me from getting bored while we wait for tourist season to return: Volunteer to help out at the grade school.
She said Coldwater Elementary is always in need of volunteers to help with stuff like making copies, reading to little kids, and helping teachers prepare materials for bulletin boards. There are a few parent volunteers, but most of the kids’ parents are working two or three jobs just to keep food on the table, so their ranks are fairly limited. Joey and I don’t have anything else to do with our mornings during the winter, and Joey is great with little kids, so I think we’ll head that direction Monday morning and offer our services as volunteers.
I am really amped about this idea. I think it will be really good for Joey, and it will keep me busy.
I’ve decided to make peace with winter by using it to give myself some much-needed “me time.” Tourist season was awesome, but a few months of uneventful dreaming probably aren’t a bad thing. I could stand to spend a little more time jogging.
More Joey time would be good, too; I’ve kind of neglected him lately, and he’s noticed. He broke my heart yesterday when he asked, “Sissy, why don’t you read to me any more?” Not that he can’t read to himself these days, but he misses the attention, and he misses hearing stories that are a bit too hard for him to read to himself.
Harvey could use some obedience training, too … and then there’s the stack of books I bought in Tucumcari a few weeks ago and haven’t had time to read … and the sign out front that needs to be repainted.
I’ve already sorted and inventoried two-thirds of the photos, so I should be able to give the Chamber director a calendar design by Monday so she can start taking orders. Would it be totally self-serving if I included one of Miss Shirley’s historic photos of the Tumbleweed in the calendar?
Brother Jerry had a great idea today: Since Grant and I plan to get married this fall, and since I’m already up to my teeth in preparations for the fall chili cook-off — which coincides with the first day of fall break for Coldwater Public Schools — Brother Jerry suggested we just have our wedding ceremony sometime during the festivities, thus saving me the hassle of planning two separate events. He pointed out that almost everybody we know will be there anyway, and we can save ourselves the expense of a reception if we just make the wedding part of the activities.
I love Brother Jerry….
I know tourist season is winding down, but I think I’d like to take a little time off now and then without having to impose on Joyce. I’ve been talking to Grant, and he knows several reliable kids at Coldwater High who would probably like to have part-time jobs turning over rooms and helping me man the front desk. I can’t spend a lot, but I’ve done well enough with the Tumbleweed that I think I could manage 10 to 12 hours a week without breaking the bank.
Whoever works here will have to be able to put up with Joey, Harvey, and the cats. Grant has a kid in mind. I’m trying to decide whether I want to mess with a formal job application or just say, “Come by and talk to me if you want a job.” The latter would be less work, but the former might be better for the kid, as it would give her some experience with the application process.
On an unrelated note, it looks like we’ve got some storms blowing in from around Moriarty and Dilia. Should be a good night for curling up with a book and listening to the rain….
Things have been slow around here lately, and Ryne Sandberg is bringing his I-Cubs to Albuquerque this week. Unless somebody can give me one good reason not to, I think I’m gonna shut down the Tumbleweed and take Joey to the Duke City for a few days. He still hasn’t forgiven Grant and me for going to the last game without him. Maybe an autographed baseball would make it up to him.
At least the weather won’t be so bloody hot when we’re standing in line to meet the man of the hour, and I can make it an educational excursion by taking Joey to the Biopark and some of the museums while we’re in town. I don’t think he’s ever been on a vacation, so this could be really exciting for him.
Grant just called from Santa Rosa. He should be here in the next 20 minutes.
Joey and Harvey are out front, pacing up and down the block like crazy men. I hope they aren’t creeping out the guests too much.
Harvey is excited because Joey is excited. Joey is excited because he has learned to read “Where the Wild Things Are” since Grant’s last visit and has been gleefully reading it to every little kid who walks into the lobby. He’s dying to ask Grant to help him find where the Wild Things might be on his map.
Meanwhile, I am excited about an idea somebody sent me.
Lillian Redman, who owned the Blue Swallow Motel in Tucumcari for many years, used to have a little card in each room that talked about a prayer for “The Stranger Within Our Gates.” I just got a text message — complete with photo — from somebody who found Miss Lillian’s blessing hanging on the wall in a motel in Missouri.
I am planning to type it up and turn it into a little postcard or something for all my rooms.
This is what the Tumbleweed office looks like. I mention this because I am trying to decide what to do with that empty space to the right of the counter in the lobby. I’m torn between adding another table and chairs or putting in some racks and shelves and filling them with Route 66 merchandise. I think some Tumbleweed Motel T-shirts and coffee mugs would sell fairly well. I’d like to hand out postcards, too, and maybe some kind of small toy for little kids — car bingo cards or coloring books or something.
If you were going to buy a Tumbleweed Motel souvenir, what would it be? I’d like to get some feedback on this before I invest in a lot of inventory. I don’t want to end up with boxes and boxes of T-shirts nobody wants, y’know?