THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN ............!

Although technology is running rampant, and whilst no one really wants to be taken over by a robot, no one wants to be left behind, there is something to be said for the 'written word', or even old fashioned (not by my standards) pen and paper!  I apologise now, if this post is somewhat 'deep', rather than amusing, although I am sure there are some that will see the humour, if somewhat cynical.  The older I get, the more I laugh at the inability of youth, and the naivety of the old!  (I include myself in the latter, despite not being really ancient!)

There was I, ready to go for a swim, when I received a text.  Not a phone call, not a letter, but a text.  My neighbour had misplaced her cat.  It is a 'house cat'.  She wondered if we still had a community newsletter.  Unfortunately, the newsletter required too much work and no one wanted to take it on. It would have been within the parameters of my fortes to create a newsletter, but time would not allow.  I informed my neighbour that whilst we did not have a community newsletter, we did have a network.  I was in the water with two people who were quite proficient with the network, and if I could have a picture, maybe they could help.  One lady saw the picture and told me that she had seen it on 'next door'.  Actually, she said she had seen the cat in a garden in the surrounding neighbourhood in the morning.  I presumed she meant physically, but it transpired, she meant on-line.  I also texted another neighbour, who has animals and is familiar with methods to find runaways!  I put the two women in touch with each other, and pretty soon, there was a post on 'next door', and the photo had been distributed through various social media outlets.  

The afternoon was glorious.  I chatted to a couple of neighbours about The Beatles, and how the new genre of music changed the world. One of them was reading a book, regarding John and Paul, of said band, and there were several elements about which he had no clue, whilst his lady friend, having been virtually reared by an older sister, was very acquainted.  As I was brought up in England, during the sixties, there was no avoiding the 'Mersey Beat' as it was known. We commiserated over lost youth, and discussed the new generation and their inability to understand life without hand-helds.  Talking about the difference between being brought up in the USA and England was quite animated, and the candor about our life experiences was quite interesting.  We agreed that we would not want to be 'young' again, if it meant having to grow up with today's generation!  

I read for a while.  A book.  I did not read on my phone, on a tablet, nor did I listen to a 'podcast'.  I read! Typed paper pages!  I am such a rebel!  So old-fashioned.  Yet, to me, there is nothing more satisfying than turning over the last leaf and closing the back cover over the multitude of pages.  

As I left the patio, I saw my neighbour who had misplaced her kitty.  She had been around the neighbourhood and posted notices on all the surrounding trees, etc., and had done the same on our dumpsters, so far to no avail.  

At around seven, I received a text, not a phone call, not a letter, from my neighbour to say that the cat had been found.  Despite the powers of the Internet, the various 'apps' used to convey the messages, texts and other modern day helps, the animal was retrieved when her next door neighbour saw the hand written (not typed, nor computer generated) note on the dumpster, and knocked on her door.  The cat had been, apparently, sitting very still under a car, all day.  Presumably overwhelmed at being outside, she had stayed put, with the owners of the car, not daring to move it, should it scare her.  The moral of this story is that people who had never spoken to each other before, were now conversing.  Conversing seems to be a dying art!  Why speak, when you can communicate without talking!

Of course, I am not averse to technology.  I like the fact that I can connect with my family and friends, at the touch of a button.  The world has become a smaller place, or a more connected place.  However, the lack of imagination of the younger generation is somewhat disturbing.  Life before handhelds is inconceivable.  

I happened to send an email to a client, who had sent us a paper, which was incorrectly issued.  As is my practice, I sent it from my work email, not changing the name of the sender from my husband's to mine, not to be dishonest as much as proactive.  My name at the bottom of a message causes a degree of concern from some people, even though my experience in the field is more than two decades, which is a lot more than most of those with whom I communicate.  However, I digress.  The email was sent and I received a response, indicating that there was a problem with the electronic communication. I answered with a note indicating that there was something to be said for the 'old days' when we had to collect paperwork from the court, and emailing the writ was in its infancy, and caused a modicum of anxiety.  The responder came back with a chilling email, alluding to the take over of AI and basically, the downfall of the human race. Interestingly enough, the sender was one of the 'younger' generation.  I wanted to tell him that he 'pen is mightier than the sword', but feared it would fall on deaf ears, or blind eyes, as it was an email!

With the euphoria of finding the kitty, followed by the depression of the Gen Z, with whom I had communicated, my week continued on a more even keel.  I refused to be drawn into the apocalyptic mindset, at least for now.  Plants still need watering!  Cut flowers still need liquid!  Gourmet food still needs to be prepared!  

Moving right along, and the current state of play was still very much routine.  I used pen and paper to work out calculations.  My husband uses a calculator with such speed, it sounds as if he is 'touch typing'.  The 'calculator app' is used by some, but the youngest member of our team simply asks his handheld for the answer.  If timing was critical, either myself or my husband would arrive at the answer quicker than the others.  Me, because I have a pen between my fingers, and paper to hand.  A phone has to be picked up, and the 'app' opened.  Dependent upon the 'speed' of the 'connection' would dictate how quickly the handheld would respond.

Of course, resistance is futile, ultimately, but I feel it compromises my ability to function, and I am too fond of my brain cells to give in, totally! Perhaps I am naive in thinking that I could survive in a wilderness, but old habits die hard!

A happy medium would be good!  I think we are beyond that!  There is no turning back.  However, I will continue to be me!  As I said, the week was routine, and the postman still delivered the mail, (some of it to the wrong address, which was quite satisfying, to think human error is still alive and well,) and I still had to put outgoing post into the box, at the bottom of our driveway.  I continued to answer the phone, mostly to 'spam' callers, who claimed I was losing business due to the lack of 'buzz words' in my profile!  I was unsure as to what profile they were referring, but apparently, having the nature of your business in the business title does not qualify.  I could increase the volume of work, and achieve more if I listened to their experts. I did fall back into old habits, and respond, by saying that I could, in point of fact, increase the volume of my work, and achieve more, if I did not have to answer the phone every two minutes to someone who offered me advice on a subject I was clearly achieving better without!  

The week came to a close, and we left much later than usual on Friday.  It had been quite an eventful week, one way or another, with a modicum of old and new having their attributes exhorted!  

The couple with whom I discussed 'The Beatles' returned poolside, and we continued our conversation, with more excerpts from the book.  (The paper book, with pages, and covers.)  I explained that Liverpool, from where the Beatles hailed, was to England, as Texas is to the USA.  Independent!  It was a phrase that they understood!  I had actually borrowed the saying from another book, (paper with covers,) about a Soviet Union country.  I would never have known had I not read.....!  The pen is mightier than ....well at least mighty!  Still mighty!

Perhaps this 'written word' is mightier than an act, or deed.  Perhaps it will make some think.  It matters not, as I am not an 'influencer' or 'educator', (although I would prefer to be the latter, as the former is a little too modern,) but however this was received, it could not be so without the Internet, without technology, unless I had published it in a newspaper, or newsletter (which we no longer have in our community) or indeed, a monthly journal.  (What is a monthly journal?)  I hope you enjoyed.  I did!  Perhaps there will be more profound content, or perhaps not, in ........... another story!

I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE YOU CRY!

Rain, once again, stopped play.  Most people are enjoying the cooler temperatures and the rain has certainly brought the humidity down, but for those of us who were brought up in less heated climes, and a back garden with perhaps a sprinkler attached to a hosepipe, that was run through the kitchen window, attached to the kitchen sink tap, (faucet,) or a plastic paddling pool, but no immediate access to a swimming pool, or lake, or area of water to swim, or beside which to relax, sitting by a pool, and being able to swim at will, is more of a blessing than I could ever have imagined.

The mornings felt much cooler, despite the temperature being higher, the humidity made it feel almost autumnal, or at least Texas autumnal, and more like the summer mornings I remember in Blighty!  The rain held off for most of the week, threatening to return at the weekend, again, but as our lakes and rivers are fuller than they have been for probably a decade or more, once again, no one was complaining!

I almost missed the entry for the contest to see Bri Bagwell, a country singer, who hailed from New Mexico, but now considers herself a Texan.  The browser I use for one particular radio station did not show any contests.  I thought it a little odd, and opened another browser the Friday before last, and saw that there were, indeed, several contests for each of that particular group of stations.  I entered us all for the contest, and waited.

On Tuesday afternoon, the emails arrived to say we had been 'selected'.  I knew my daughter was going to be 'out of town' on a day trip, to meet up with a friend who had moved away, so I asked if the 'new guy' in our office would like to join us.  He seemed a bit perplexed.  "What do you mean?  Did you win a contest?  How?"  To go into details, would just take too long.  He seemed eager to join Grant and me on the trip, and asked what we had to do.  "Show up!" I said.

Leaving the office at eleven, leaving my husband to take care of everything, including all the spam phone calls, which seemed to be at a premium this week, we travelled the spoiled highway, where they are putting a 'surplus to requirements' (in my opinion, and the opinion of all whom I have asked) toll road.  The lovely, country highway has been ruined, having had all the 'Christmas' trees removed, and replaced with solid wall.  No doubt they will replace them, as they have with the fauna and flora along my perfect highway, which was ruined a few years ago!  I know it may seem like I am standing in the way of progress, but the same is felt by most of the people who live here.  Why?  However, I digress.  We arrived at the radio station to a stupendous welcome from our hostess, and hugs all round!  Our new guy was slightly overwhelmed.  Although not hugged, he found it quite unnerving to be part of a group (albeit very small) who were welcomed with such enthusiasm, by a DJ!  "Do you know her, well?" he asked, after she looked at pictures of my youngest grandson, and almost melted (genuine or not, the sentiment conveyed the former) when he saw the snap.  "We do now", I said, and told him of our experience at the previous radio station, and how we were treated like VIP's.  

Lunch was amazing.  Shoeff's BBQ catered, and the food was definitely superior.  We were invited into the 'lounge' and as I was at the front of the queue, procured the front row seats.  Bri Bagwell was very gracious.  She writes her own songs, and has a very humble quality about her.  Never feeling quite good enough, she said she is always encouraged by the interviewer, who always gives her praise, and the additional boost she needs to continue.  It was not false modesty.  However, she did say that some younger female artistes have made comments on various social media pages, to say that she has encouraged them.  Her voice was pure, and her songs heartfelt.  Like a lot of country artists, she draws from experience.  She sang about her 'rescue' dog, a song about 'whom rescued who'.  Several charities have benefitted from money raised from the singer, and her dog!

The 'any questions' part of the performance came around, and no one put up their hand.  Having made a complete fool of myself, several performances ago, and having redeemed myself since then, and not drinking the 'ranch water' which contains more alcohol than is safe for my tongue, I put up my hand.  Mine was no so much a question, but more of a statement.  I told her that she was amazing, which in my opinion, since she had overcome so many pitfalls, and having been told at the tender age of 26 (over a decade ago) that she was too old for the industry, and that she was inspiring. Not only was she inspiring to those younger, but to those older, and I was a good deal older than her.  I said that I had been inspired.  I felt as if I could climb any mountain, and forge every stream, (not in those words, but Julie Andrews has to come out somewhere when I am being inspired,) in that if I put my mind to it, I could succeed.  The whole room was silent.  I thought I had said something wrong.  I almost panicked as the interviewer left the stage and walked across the room to a child, who had come with her father (a sponser of the event) and asked if she had a question. The young girl said that she loved dogs too!  Ms Bagwell replied accordingly, and then got up from her chair, and looked at me.  She said she hoped my comments had been recorded, and that it was the best interview she had ever had.  She proceeded to give me an enormous bear hug, and said I had made her cry.  Was that a good thing?  Apparently so! I told her that we were both immigrants to Austin, me having travelled just that bit further, and one year before, but both none the less, immigrants!  

The photo session took place, and I was happy wearing my giant Stetson to match that of my new friend.  She hugged me again.   Our 'contact' was standing at the side.  I thanked her, as usual, with profusion, and she told me that we were her 'people' and she always looks for our entry!  (That's cheating, said my son, and Grant's mum, but if you are a VIP, then you get the invite!)  

We left and Grant told me that he had watched Bri's face as I made the comment.  He said her lip quivered and then her chin, and he thought she was going to 'lose it'.  "Did I redeem myself?"  I asked.  He said that I really did!  Dana enjoyed his barbecue sandwich so much that he said he had to stop himself from driving down to Belton (about an hour away) for dinner!

What could compete with that day!  The week progressed, and the promise of our condo having a new roof became a reality, with the roofers measuring up for a start the following week.  I was going to have to be judicious with my time, as I figures the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and whilst not wishing to entice on a romantic level, my theory was that it would work the same on a 'corporate' stage!  Keep them fed with tasty morsels and they will do a good job!  Bribery is such an ugly word!  

The weekend was quite uneventful.  I had started a new book, again, and it was going to take some time to finish.  Small writing, very detailed, and very, very English.  Showers, despite being fierce, only lasted for a short time and just kept the temperatures down slightly.  However, it has, so far, been quite  a mild summer.

With the prospect of a lot of mess, and a lot of cooking, next week seems to have taken on its own burdens, and although I doubt I will make anyone cry (at least I hope I do not make anyone cry) and there are no 'meet and greet' on the horizon, I am sure it will be eventful!  All to be revealed in .... another story!

THE ENGINE THAT COULD!

After reading the Grapes of Wrath, although an excellent piece of literature, left me feeling rather depressed, I decided to go for something much lighter.  The Ruth Rendell novel was both gripping and amusing, and although I have not read any of her work, I now have another favourite author.  However, finishing up on Saturday, left me with the dilemma of where to go next.  Admittedly, I limit my reading to weekends, and the odd evening, if I have time after a swim, but I usually read something deep followed by something either adventurous or light hearted.  Going back to another Steinbeck was probably not a good idea!  Of Mice and Men is a very famous title but I had no clue as to the content.  It was a short book, and when it started to rain and I only had a few small chapters left, I continued to read on my couch!

To say my mood was less than light on Sunday evening, would be an understatement.  Still remembering the harrowing circumstances of 'The Grapes', followed by the tragedy ending the short story I had just read, I longed for something to lift the mood.  The rain, despite needed, had caused havoc, and the State mourned.  The plight of Steinbeck's characters, perhaps, put things into perspective, or perhaps, brought truths home!

The little red engine is not so much an engine, but the housing to an engine that hobbles along our road each morning.  The truck, low to the ground, and as a person would be well into its senior years, chugs into our neighbourhood, and attempts to climb the hill to the top, where it is filled with articles needed for the days roofing project.  It wheezes along, and all I can hear is the children's tale, The Little Engine That Could!  "I think I can", hums from the exhaust, that with all it's might keeps from toughing the surface of the road.  Next comes the muscle car, that knows beyond any shadow of a doubt, it definitely can!  The muscle car is merely a form of transport (although perhaps merely is not a good word to use, and its owner would probably be very hurt to hear his pride and joy in the same paragraph, let alone sentence, as merely.  The variety of trucks and vehicles that follow differ from day to day, depending on the crew working.  The little red engine hobbled along at the beginning of the week.

Work was brutal!  An employee (not ours) in training, had been taught how to file a law suit.  However, he had not been told that when the writ is issued it needs to be married up with the petition, and sent to us.  Three months he has been filing petitions.  (Law suits.)  For about two months he has been watching the writs being issued.  It was not until status was being requested on several did the trainer realise that no one had told him of the process after filing.  Writ after writ was being emailed to us, and my 'inbox' was screaming like 'a woman in travail' to use a well known expression.  Each time I downloaded one project, another few popped in!  I knew, vaguely, how many to expect, which did not make it easier.  However, my generational sense of responsibility was activated, and I just got on with it.  Did I need a break?  Of course,  Did I take one? No!  It is not within my 'gen' to do so!  My understanding of the younger 'gen' is that I do not understand!  However, I digress, and my soapbox is getting old and is very well used, not unlike the little red engine!  

"How can I help?" I asked one of my neighbours, who had suffered during the storms.  The leaks had caused him to move out and live with his mother, which gave me an indication as to how bad were the leaks!  All I could do was offer.  I had nothing that he needed!  It was a reminder of 'The Grapes', and how those who had nothing were willing to share everything.  I said all I could offer was a bed, or extra towels, linen, etc.  A roof.  He thanked me, after telling me he was "happy for me" when I said that I did not have a leaking roof, or workmen stomping all over my condo.  I understood the sarcasm, and he understood the sentiment.  The feeling of helplessness was quite prevalent.  Thankfully, he had options; not because I did not want him to stay, but because he had other options!  

As the muscle car vroomed along, albeit as a tiger crawling on its belly, ready to pounce, I chatted to our maintenance man.  He has been a gem throughout the whole 'roofing' problem.  The little red engine wheezed its way up the hill.  "I think I can" gasped the exhaust!

We had one day without rain.  It appears that our lake has gone from thirty percent full, (which is rather empty,) to ninety percent full, with surrounding lakes being ninety eight percent full!  This happened all within two weeks!  The horrors of the tragedy are still not fully realised!

Our week progressed.  My daughter had asked if we could babysit on Friday, and I had agreed.  As the little one is no longer in a cot, my anxiety was quite high.  How did I keep him in the room if he decided to get up?  Putting a gate in front of the door was not an option as he has worked out how to 'work' it!  A contraption for the door handle was the answer.  "Put this on the door knob and he wont be able to open it" my daughter had said.  Much as I did not like to 'lock him in', it seemed like the only option.  I knew I would have my 'mum ears' on when he came to stay.  

Eventually, we came to Friday/  The red engine and muscle car, came into the complex.  The drivers waved.  It reminded me of my own plight with the new 'gen'.  The muscle car cannot understand why it can't go fast, and why it has to go into prowl mode, whilst the little engine coughs and splutters and does not die!  "Why doesn't it just quit?" says the muscle car.  "I think I can" says the red engine, and does!  I went into work, and gave it my all!  I left with a few things still left to do, which is most unlike me, but as the papers were 'not going anywhere' until Monday, it seemed prudent to maintain my sanity!  My grandson decided he needed his daddy, and was throwing a two year old tantrum.  Grandma took him by the hand and led him to the car.  By the time we left the car park, he was looking for a bear!  "We are going on a bear hunt, a bear hunt, a bear hunt" I repeated, and eventually he lost interest in the tantrum.  We found a train, a bike, a digger, a truck!  Now to get him into bed!

The door thing was brilliant.  It would have been more brilliant if brilliant grandma had put it on the inside of the door, rather than the outside.  The child was able to open the door at will.  I could not get into the room!  Sometimes I amaze myself!  Thankfully, I could just get my thumb and forefinger to work through the gap.  Even more thankful was I that my son-in-law had not realised my daughter had provided me with a 'lock' and put a spare in the bag!

I could not quite work out how to get the timer off the sound machine.  The train sound seemed to be what the little one wanted to hear.  It turned itself off every hour!  Eventually, I had no option but to send a message to the expert.  She came back immediately with a few options, together with, "Do you need me to pick him up".  I refused to give up!  I could do this!  Eventually, I worked out how to turn off the timer, and get the train sound!  It was now close to eleven, and I hoped he would go to sleep for the rest of the night.

Around two thirty, I heard a little cry.  It was not hysterical, nor particularly disturbing.  It was more of a moan.  I got up.  "Fix it. You need to fix it".  I had no idea.  Fix what?  It appears that the the quilt needed to be unraveled and placed strategically before sleep could be accomplished.  Apparently, I 'fixed it', and I went back to bed.  

Sleep was not meant to be, an I lay awake listening, before getting up to go for a swim earlier than I had anticipated.  I returned and decided to give everyone a treat.  Pancakes.  I do not 'do' American pancakes, but I did! 

The muscle car was not seen over the weekend and probably on a fast road, showing off its power, and making the most of its freedom  The little red engine was, no doubt, resting ready to try again on Monday!  I am going to try again on Monday.  Hopefully, the back of the project has been broken! Much as we enjoy breaking records, we are willing to let the record of last week stand for a while!  Maybe there will be more exciting things to happen in ............ another story! 

TEXAS STRONG!!

The news had been devastating this week, with the loss of life from the floods in Texas.  Our prayers, and hearts go out to those who have lost loved ones and those who still have family members missing.  It is a tragedy.  I start with this, because it is tragic, and humour seems to be out of place.  However, we are Texas and Texas survives!  I ask for forgiveness from those who find my post inappropriate, perhaps adding light to the darkness.  Thankfully, my week was not tragic, and for that I am grateful!

It was a short week leading up to the 4th. The 249th anniversary of Independence was fast approaching, and we were all set for a four day week.  Of course, the week started with, "Can we get this done before the 4th", and other such requests.  

A birthday swim was not expected, as the rain was quite harsh.  I had planned to drive over to Samantha and we were going to head out to the parade in her town.  Come rain or shine, it was going ahead!  I went out early, so that I could be ready to leave early and get to her early!  She wanted to be at the parade at eight, as it started at 8:30 a.m.  "I can't see it being that crowded" said my husband, who was not going to join us.  Really.  "You said that about the first 'midnight madness, on Thanksgiving", I reminded him.  Samantha arrived at my house a little after seven thirty, and we were at the car park a little before eight.  Free hotdogs and drinks were being handed out, and despite the drizzle, the crowd was already three deep.  We spotted a small space, and I maneuvered into place.  The rain started and we put up our umbrellas.  Resistance was futile!  Samantha got the little one out of his push-chair, and put him in his 'shark' suit.  A waterproof onsie with a hat and visor to keep out the rain.  We stood, without umbrellas, and watched as the red, white and blue lights came over the hill.

I was surprised at the level of my emotions.  This little boy, dressed in his 'shark' suit, was a part of this parade.  He is an American!  He waved his little flag as the first group came down the road.  Army, Airforce and Navy cadets were marching by.  Everyone was cheering.  It was quite the parade, for a small town.  Then came the library staff on their float.  The baseball continency threw out soft balls.  Chick-fil-A came through, handing out coupons and throwing cuddly toys, one of which I caught.  The rain continued to fall, and we stood waving our flags!  

Many floats went by, and we collected all the things they were handing out, from plastic ducks to bags of sweets, and hats, t-shirts, and a lot in between.  The little girl next to me was quite exited.  "It's like Halloween!" I said to her.  "We have more candy than we got at Halloween!" she said, pointing to her mother's bulging pockets!  

"That's Cori's friend" said my daughter, as we watched a group of women on horses come down the hill.  Sitting behind her was Cori and her daughter.  Waving to the crowd, they spotted us.  "Teddy!" they both shouted!  My grandson was also picked out of the crowd by the photographer, who spotted his suit.  With the other two children, standing next to us, he became part of the proceedings.  

Despite being soaking wet, I loved being part of this tradition.  We stayed until the very end, and then unloaded the oodles of bits and pieces we had collected. 

After a shower and change of clothes, we went to Mozart's coffee shop, as is another tradition.  The rain poured.  "It won't be that busy, because of the rain" said my husband.  "You said Midnight madness would not be busy!" said my daughter.  Mozart's was packed.  The line was out of the door and led out into the deck, and beyond.  "It's fourth of July.  Nothing stops the Austinites, (or Round Rockians,) from their festivities", I commented.  

The weather was not conducive to sitting outside by the pool.  Samantha took the little one home, and we met up later for dinner.  The restaurant staff sang to me and presented me with an enormous piece of chocolate cake with a candle.  It had been a wonderful day, despite being very wet.

I drove to Samantha on Saturday morning, and off we went to the warehouse.  We walked around and heard the rain.  My grandson was in his suit and boots, and enjoyed jumping in puddles.  I waited under the cover, but when my daughter brought her truck around to pick up the shopping, which was in one box, ready to be put into the truck bed, in one foul swoop, I helped her.  Within seconds, I was soaking.  I had an umbrella but it was useless.  "I am too old to go in for a wet t-shirt contest", I commented to my daughter as I got into the truck, and sat shivering as my shirt stuck to me as if I had just jumped into a pool!  We continued with our shopping and I came home, and spent the afternoon watching the sky, for a break in the rain.

Although the rain did not stop, there was no lightening.  I went to the pool, with my umbrella, to cover my towel, as I had not checked the skimmers that morning, due to the storm, and planned to do so after my swim.  The skimmers were full, but of water and not leaves as I supposed they would be.  The water was splashing over the edges, like an infinity pool.  I admit, despite reservations, I swam before calling Raul.  Our illustrious chairman was out of town until Sunday, and I did not know how to drain the water, or reset the pump, should it need resetting.  I apologised profusely, but said I didn't know what to do.  He was very gracious and said he would come immediately.  He is a gem!  

Sunday morning was dry for a while.  The sun came out for a while.  The full horror of what happened in Kerrville was still not realised.  We are in hurricane season. According to all accounts, this is not the first disaster in the area.  The fact it was a holiday weekend, added to the death toll.  There are many heroes in this story, saving people, and the wonder of a woman found up a tree, alive and well, just waiting for someone to rescue her.  

The office opposite ours had suffered a roof collapse.  It was more of a tile collapse, as we recognised the failure of the air conditioning unit filter.  We have suffered from the same in the past.  When there is an excess of rain, the filters seem to clog and 'back up'.  It causes a mess, and of course, the first impression is that the roof has caved in!  

Stories of horror were revealed as the week started.  Communities in the next county had been submerged, and cut off from the 'mainland'.  Rivers had broken their banks and flooded farms, parks, and of course low level houses.  "How can we help?" was heard everywhere.  

Our community is being re-roofed, as there was considerable damage from the hail, last year.  Although the job should not have taken so long to start, variables (of which I will not go into) prevented the job from beginning, but it is now in full swing.  Unfortunately, like so many others, the roofers were 'caught out' by the severity of the rain, and some of the more recent repairs were not completely completed!  Suffice it to say, we had some leaks in one of our sections.  The workers were amazing, and showed up every day, come rain or shine, to work on the leaks.  I found out on Monday that the owner's daughter had been at Camp Mystic!  She was safe, but her friends had perished.  Everyone knows, or knows of someone ....!  It really brought it home!

Rain came and went throughout the week, and each time the clouds appeared, we held our breath.  I was concerned for my neighbours, but it appears they managed to contain the leaks, and will not start on the next block of buildings until all is complete in the others.  

I received many messages, asking how I was, and if we were near the floods.  It was nice to have so many people care.  In typical Texas fashion, establishments throughout the state gave their profits for one day to the 'disaster fund', and people flocked to the outlets to buy.  Many sat in queues for over an hour to order at take outs.  One particular fast food chain, P. Terry, had promised to open longer to accommodate their patrons, but had to close at least one store early, as they ran out of food!  The report was that people were buying double what they would usually do in order to give more!  

The week came to an end and we shut up shop!  My phone rang and I noticed it was my son, 'face timing'.  It was seven forty my time, so early hours of the morning in England.  Surprisingly enough, I did not panic.  I saw my oldest grandson sitting, smiling.  "Why are you up so late?" I asked, before noticing the cast, and sling holding his arm.  "What did you do?" I asked, although it was somewhat obvious!  Breaking a wrist whilst playing football was the answer!  His smile, from ear to ear, showed his pride with his 'badge of honour!'  Apparently, it had not hurt a great deal, and it was only the swelling that caused the trip to the hospital.  At nearly two in the morning, there was no one to tell.  "What time is it in America", he had asked his dad.  "Do you want to call Grandma?" was the response.  Once in a while it pays to be six hours behind!

There is a saying, "I was not born in Texas, but I came here as fast as I could!" (Please forgive any misquote.)  I feel as if I am part of Texas, having lived here for two decades, and my youngest grandson is Texas born and (being) bred!  We are Texas strong!  I heard that thirty million dollars has been raised so far, for the disaster fund, and whilst that will not compensate for loss of lives, it will help rebuild for those left behind.  No one, here, has been untouched by the disaster.  

I will end this week by using a phrase I have heard before, and will no doubt hear again, and one which you have probably all heard.  Take some time to hug your kids, loved ones, family, even neighbours, because you never know what tomorrow will bring!  There really is little else to say, until .... another story!

NICELY DONE!

Having been 'rained out' twice, I was unable to return to my 'happy place' last Sunday.  I had started to write several times, but as time and tide waits for no man, as the saying goes, time and tide waiteth not for me!  Saturday was beautiful, and then it wasn't.  I waited for our chairman to finish swimming and then I swam myself.  We both sat, in silence, read our respective books, both looked up at the sky as the wind started, went back to our books, looked up again, looked at each other, and decided it was time to go!  The shower was heavy, but short.  I returned to the pool, for a while.  Sunday, I decided to 'wait it out!  I heard the wind, watched distant trees start to flail, and the skies darken.  Still, I sat, until I was hit in the face by a small twig.  I fought my way through the invisible barrier of heavy breeze and by the time I reached my house, I was almost toppled over by the force of the elements!  As I stepped inside, the rain started.  I watched for a while and decided this was not going to end.  I am sure a few Father's Day plans were thwarted!   By sunset, there were no clouds, the rain had departed, and the evening was beautiful. Again, welcome to Texas, y'all!

The winds had been swirling. and tornadoes have been reported near and far.  The debris left from the storms has seemed out of place with a beautiful sunny day following a storm. The speed at which the breeze turns into tempest is rather frightening.  As a Londoner, I was used to rain, heavy rain, even the odd 'great storm' but it all appeared to come in order.  Perhaps I have 'acclimatised'!

Walking down to take a swim on Monday, I had to smile to myself.  As we are approaching the anniversary of our 'ex-patriation', I still marvel at the differences.  There was I, walking along the road, albeit in our community, but in effect no different to a cul-de-sac, or perhaps private road, wearing atop my swimwear, a beach towel around my waist and a toweling robe.  Water bottle and phone in my pocket, and sliders on my feet, cap pulled down over my brow, I stroll along looking like I have just got out of bed, and quite frankly, a mess!  In what alternative universe would this be 'okay'! Actually, in MY alternative universe!  I have never received an enquiring look, or a confused stare, just a "Hey, how ya doin?" or more often than not, "Is the water warm enough for the rest of us?"  Perhaps they just think it is the eccentric English woman being herself, or perhaps it is because this is Austin and people go to the supermarket in their pyjamas!  

Much as I have never really tried to be inclusive, I have never gone out of my way to be alternative.  It just happened.  Perhaps I was actually made for this place!  The dress code is unique!  Looking reasonably normal in my toweling robe, beach towel, cap and sliders, contrasted with looking a little out of place in my business attire, heels and trilby!  

Although I have stopped 'playing' with telemarketers, for the most part, the female that was rather dramatic caught me at the wrong time.  "We see you have listed your house for sale, and have people looking in your area.  How much would you like?" she lied!  When I am concentrating on something else, and am interrupted by a spam phone call, the sarcastic bent within appears to be at its strongest.  "Four million dollars!" I replied.  I almost said 'pounds' but caught myself just in time.  After a brief pause, no doubt to collect herself, she asked how many bedrooms and bathrooms my house contained.  "Three", I responded, still concentrating on an email I had to send, explaining a rather unique set of instructions on an order we had received from a court.  "Three bedrooms and three bathrooms?" came the question, hesitantly.  "Yes", I responded, making sure the email was succinct.  "What makes you think you can ask that price?  Have you had it appraised? Did someone tell you that is what your property is worth?"  She appeared to take this personally!  I could hear the contempt in her voice.  "You asked me what I wanted, and that was my answer", I said, perhaps more sharply than intended.  Of course, I heard the click of the call's demise from her end!

The delivery man stopped by with a rather fat envelope.  He had just returned from a trip to Italy and Switzerland and was ready to tell me about his experience at Heathrow.  "We had a long layover but our plane was delayed so we had to rush through.  When I told the lady we had to catch a connecting flight, she said that everyone had to catch a flight!"  It appears they did catch their connection, by the 'skin of their teeth' but he was quite shocked at the lack of sympathy, and general courtesy.  I had to smile.  Most of the officials I have encountered coming into the USA have been polite, some a little sharp, but always courteous.  Some have been friendlier than others, and some more personable, but upon arriving home, it is all 'business'.  "Where have you flown from?"  Stamp; stamp.  "Next!"  I have often wanted to stand and say, "And a very good morning to you too.  Have a nice day!"  I think, perhaps, they have put up with so much abuse over the years, the less they say the better!  However, our delivery man was not just up in arms about the abruptness of the Brits.  He said the Italians were actually rude!  I smiled again. "Were they rude or did they just sound abrupt?" I questioned.  I remembered a friend who was married to an Italian.  Her mother thought they were always fighting, but they were merely talking. "Their language is passionate, and it comes out in many different ways.  "No.  They were rude!" he decided.  "So a good trip all round then?" The sarcastic bent on auto-pilot.  "Amazing.  It was fantastic!" he responded.  A bit of good news!

The Brit struck again!  I still have no idea what causes the phenomenon that causes people to sit up and listen!  Over and over, we (the Brits) are reminded about 4th July, and the independence gained from (broadly speaking) my ancestors.  Yet, the accent seems to draw so much attention.  Back to the story.  Our mail box at the office is, once again, broken.  This means that we have to go to the post office to collect our mail.  We had no idea it was broken.  We assumed the postman had put our letter into a neighbouring box.  It happens! The first we heard of it was when the mail carrier came into my office with a stack of post.  "The box is broken.  I have told them about it and hopefully it will be fixed, but until then, I am going to bring your mail in everyday".  I thanked him, remarked how kind it was of him to do so, and was rather profusely grateful for the continued lobbying for our box to be repaired.  However, on the days our postman does not work, we do not get our post!  The one draw back is that sometimes, just sometimes, we receive other people's post in our pile.  Of course, being neighbourly, I become the sub-postman!  "Come in.  You don't have to knock!" said our office neighbour.  Sitting at his desk, the proprietor was training a new employee.  "This is the nicest person in the world!" he said, introducing me to the trainee.  I rolled my eyes, and smiled.  Flattery would get him everywhere!  "Why d'ya knock?" he asked.  "Because I am the nicest person in the world!" I responded.  I gave him his mail.  "Where d'ya get this?" he asked.  "Is the box fixed?"  I didn't realise that the postman did not deliver to everyone. "He drops off your mail?  Everyday?  You don't have to go to the post office?  How d'ya do that?"  he raged.  "I am the nicest person in the world!" I stated!   The trainee was a little bemused by the interaction.  I went on my way, to the marketing agency downstairs, as well as the attorney's.  Not all of us are like the custom officials!  Perhaps it is the large smile, perhaps it is the accent, perhaps it is the classic dress, high heels and hat!

Our busy week came to an end, and I was looking forward to being able to finish my book.  The Grapes of Wrath had been on my reading list for some time.  I was vaguely familiar with the storyline, but had no idea how much it would 'draw me in'.  Although it is a very depressing tale, it is full of people taking care of each other, as well as others being horrific to their fellow man, I found it hard to put the paperback down!  However, I have had a lot of things happen to prevent this.  I have made it a policy only to read outside, otherwise I think I would spend every spare moment with my nose in a book, so the weather has prevented me on one count.  Being sociable and chatting to neighbours by the pool has been another aspect.  Then, the strangest reason of all.  My book was misprinted!  I got two thirds of the way through, read chapter 22, turned the page, and was back to chapter eleven!  About seventy pages were missing!  Thankfully, our local 'half price books' had another copy and I was able to complete this devastating story!  The ending left me rather numb, and convinced me to look for a lighter theme before heading back into the classics!

The rain stayed away, for the most part, over the weekend.  A few sprinkles here and there hit my umbrella, but nothing was as fierce as last weekend.  Another weekend came to an end, and time trudges on!  Perhaps I shall have something very mysterious and interesting to write in .... another story!

IT NEVER RAINS...IT POURS!

Perhaps I should start at the beginning, (a very good place to start,) but to know where is the 'beginning', becomes a little hazy.  I have started this post three times, but have not had the time to finish.  The beginning.  Was it two or three weeks ago?  I am unsure.  Let me take you back to a little over a month ago, and work forward from there, although what happened a little over a month ago was years in the 'planning' stage!  

Some years ago, we talked, vaguely talked, about having our floors replaced.  (I didn't say it was exciting!) The carpet was sent by Martha Washington, with the original kitchen, when she moved into the White House.  "Drop it somewhere in that place called Tejas!" Her orders were adhered to, and around the said items, they built my condo!  About six weeks ago, we decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns, and get a quote!  To make a very, very long story as short as possible, on a Sunday morning, a very nice man came, showed us some options, measured up, gave us a price, assured us that the large items would not cause a problem, took a deposit, gave us a date, and left!  The 'manager' called on the Tuesday to say that although we had arranged for the work to start in two weeks, they could start the following day!  My husband seemed quite thrilled with the idea.  Me, not so much!  "Remove all your fragile stuff, things from cabinets, anything breakable.  Yes, the lamps would be good to be taken out."  It was the warning, "It is going to be like a construction site", that prompted me to move anything and everything removable.  I would not have time to get everything upstairs in an evening.  We left the dates as they were, and double, and triple checked that they would be able to move the heavy items.

In between household chores, and work, I managed to take all my 'breakables', pictures, pantry contents (that is part of the floor) and general bric-a-brac, upstairs and out of harm's way.  I set up a table in Samantha's room, next to the bunk beds, after storing some glasses on the chest of draws.  Upstairs was an obstacle course, but we weaved our way through.  The night before the work was due to start, I took the remaining few things upstairs, and hoped I hadn't forgotten anything.  

Of course, when the two men arrived to take a look at the area, they stood over the pool table and shook their heads.  "Can't move this", the foreman said.  "Yes you can". said I.  We went back and forth for a while, and I remembered my ex-husband's party piece mimicking an English plumber.  Sharp intake of breath, shaking of the head, and a very long, "Nawwwww" emitting from his lips.  After calling their manager, they reluctantly agreed to go ahead. "Sign here", said the foreman.  "What am I signing for?" said I.  He told me I was just agreeing to the work.  On insisting I would like to actually read what I was signing for, he became quite offended, and flipped back a page on his iPad, before quickly flipping forward for me to sign.  I flipped it back, which basically set the tone for the next hour.  I was a trouble maker!  My son-in-law came to sit in the house while I went off to work.  They were due to lift the tiles in the kitchen and replace any boards in the living room that needed to be replaced.  An hour had not yet passed when I received a call.  They had 'downed tools'.  I came home to find the foreman walking too and fro.  "Asbestos!" he called out.  "No, it is not!" said I.  All the units had been tested besides the fact the floor was laid after the ban.  (The carpets were a different matter.)  "It is dangerous!" he retorted.  "I know!  I completed two, not one but two lots of asbestos training", said I, leaving out the fact it was about thirty five years ago, but some things remain clear as day!  Enter Raul, who spoke the foreman's native language.  "What is wrong with you?  You know it is not Asbestos.  Don't you want to work?"  I stood and pretended I understood every word he said, and the foreman became rather sheepish.  His workmen, however, had been spooked.  We overcame the problem  by them putting down a layer of cement in the 'affected' areas, and they would put the floors over that when it was dry.  This led to another problem.  My dining and kitchen area, and my front porch/hallway, would be slightly raised.  It would be okay!  

The 'electrics' for my unit were what gave Nicola Tesla his first thought when he was a toddler.  Yes, they are that old, and have really needed replacing for a very long time!  I could not use my microwave and kettle at the same time, due to the excess surge it put on the power.  When the units were built, no one had an inkling of how much electricity would be used in the future, nor the strength of machine, or power needed.  "The electrics have blown", said my son-in-law, who had predicted a nice peaceful day, allowing him to get some things done.  "All you have to do is be there" I told him.  My husband came home, called an electrician, and within the hour they were at the house.  "They banned this stuff in 1980!" my husband repeated to me.  "They are city approved, and will come and change out all the sockets and light switches on Monday.  Then they will fit a new fuse box."  Of course, the expense would be down to us.  We had, vaguely, talked about having the wiring replaced over the years, but we could live with using the microwave and kettle at different times!  Monday!  They would come back first thing Monday!  No problem!  Only there was a problem.  I now had to wait for the floor people to finish, so I could bring everything back downstairs, as there was no clear path to the sockets or light switches.  Remember the table I put up in Samantha's room?  I took my husband into the room.  He looked at all the objects on, and under the table.  "How do you get to the chest of drawers?" I posed.  "You can't" he said.  "Well, that is where the socket is!" I replied.  "Also, there is one behind the bunk beds".  The electricians would have to make two journeys!  

Arriving home on the Friday was bitter sweet.  The floors looked magnificent, but I could not restore my living room 'bit by bit'.  However, the raised areas in the dining and kitchen area, and small hallway had created a wonderful feature!  I now had a sunken living room!  Admittedly, we were only talking an inch, perhaps less, but it is a step down and that was enough for me!  My excitement was genuine.  

My weekend was spent cleaning floors, moving furniture and getting the sockets accessible.  On Monday morning, my usual household chores were set aside, as it was impossible to do them properly, and I set about removing things from the second bedroom.  By the time the electricians came, I was ready for a battle!  If I had one 'sharp intake of breath', or a single shake of the head, I was ready with fists up!  I showed them the bunk beds, which I had manage to move out a tad, and the other sockets which were almost accessible.  "No problem, ma'am" said the main man.  I retired without a punch being thrown!  Metaphorical punch, of course!

I forgot to mention the other 'fun' aspect.  Bad things happen in threes my mother always said.  Superstitious as she was, I am not, but it just happened that way. When the electrics were blown out, my air conditioner went on the 'fritz'.  "That's odd" said the technician, for the fourth time.  "Please, stop saying that!" said I.  He could not work out the dynamics.  It would appear that the people who fitted the unit hooked it up to the old drain system, which in itself is not a problem, but it would have been better to got 'right' instead of left.  He got it going, and then said, "That's odd...sorry!"  It appears, the reason my thermostat had thrown everything out of whack over the last decade, is because someone had wired it wrong!  I can't even blame Martha W. for this one!  If ever we had a power cut, it would take some careful pandering to get it to work properly, and because it appeared to be working if ever we had a technician out to 'service' or check it out, it had seemed to be working.  He put on a new thermostat, and within twenty minutes, not hours, the temperature was down to the required setting!  

At last!  Everything was fixed.  Everything apart from the cars! Did I mention?  No I didn't!  Both cars had a/c problems!  They are both fixed!  Dana took his to our usual mechanic.  I had to take mine to a 'specialist'.  We found a very nice family owned business that took care of my 'old lady'.  I was told what was wrong and how it was to be fixed.  Go on.... ask me anything, anything about how air conditioning works in a car.  Anything!  I could not perform the actual task, but I could instruct the mechanic!

The holiday weekend was spent putting things back.  The rest of the week was spent putting things back.  This weekend was spent putting things back.  Admittedly, I have not been as judicious as I might, and have taken some 'me' time.  The obstacle course is less daunting, and the pantry has been put back together, of a fashion!  Most of the things not 'put back' are items I am considering throwing/donating/destroying!  

In essence, that is why I have not finished this post, until now.  Did I mention the storm?  No I didn't.  A real storm, not simply the one in a tea cup that we endured over the last few weeks.   That will have to be in ...... another story!

WHO AM I?!!

Despite the threat of raging storms, we have not seen a lot of rain, per se, or should I say per capita! The beautiful, if somewhat ferocious, light shows we have witnessed, as others have undergone tempests causing flooding and tremendous damage, have rarely led to precipitation, although we have encountered a few cloudbursts, and even prolonged periods of splosh!  Thankfully, for me, I have been able to resume outdoor exercise and continue to be the eccentric who defies the elements.  Little do they know!

Being regarded as 'a local' has been a little bit of a habit as of late, and being asked for 'recommendations' is always a little unnerving.  I am considered the 'wise sage' when it comes to entertainment in the city, (I shall leave out the word 'old',) as apparently, I have ventured to places of which others know not!  

I do rather enjoy when people move from another state and I can greet them with the "Welcome to Texas" slogan.  We are a proud state, independent and for the most part, a little 'old fashioned'.  I may be chastised for that last comment, but there are still the quaint 'southern' ways that make it special.  Again, I may be chastised for that last comment, and asked to explain 'quaint' together with 'southern' as history does not always depict the 'south' for being 'quaint' or, indeed pleasant.  However, I digress and do not intent going on a snowballs trip down a somewhat awkward memory lane.  (I may be chastised for that last comment, using the work 'awkward'....!)

Old fashioned is a word I would use when referring to 'politeness'.  Despite the younger, younger generation's inability to do anything without their 'handheld' devices, (the 'z' rather than the 'x',) there are still enough older folk to remind me that this was a 'door opening' community.  There is still an element of 'Stepford' about Austin, and politeness is in abundance in local stores and communities.  I held the door for a gentleman only last week.  He immediately took over the task of holding told me that it was a "gentleman's job to hold the door for a lady!"  Little does he know!  "Why thank you Sir", or "Howdy, ma'am" still tickles me.  The late, great Dennis Waterman (English actor) once gave an interview, and said how foreigners perceived the English as either speaking with a plumb in their mouth, or a cockney. (I may have misquoted, but it was the gist of the sentence.)  There was no in between.  When I came to Texas, I realised that people really did talk like they did in the movies!  "Well, I do declare!" was a phrase used by one of my husband's friends, that made me laugh over and over again.  However, once again, the rabbit trail has been slipped down, and I am so 'off piste' it will take more than one pair of skis to get me back along the trail!  

Where was I?  Indeed!  "Welcome to Texas".  I do not have the drawl, and do not add the 'y'all' as a suffix, but I still enjoy it when I can use the phrase.  Unlike the "Hey! How y'all doin'.", when walking into a shop, and knowing that it is rhetorical, "Welcome to Texas" has a certain affectionate quality.  

Bringing Europe to Texas is not a new thing.  New Braunfels, which is about an hour away from me, is renowned for its German influence, and with many people from south of the border, Spanish and Portuguese bent, albeit somewhat modified.  Although I have attempted to debunk the myth that English food is bland and boring, I do tend to venture further afield, bringing Greece to the table!  My moussaka, made with Indian eggplant, and parmesan cheese, was perhaps not quite as authentic as an Athens' taverna, but did taste original.  A dessert recipe came from an old 'simply take' card that had been produced by Sainsbury's supermarket, which I had been using as a bookmark.  Despite being the American staple, apple pie, in any shape or form, can claim British nationality!  Taking green bean casserole and sweet potato pie back to England, gives reason to announce, "Welcome to Texas", but does not give the real feel of the people!  Occasionally, very occasionally, I go Tex-Mex, to see the reaction of the natural born natives of this state!

Warmer and warmer it got during the week.  Getting dressed for work has always been a 'thing' for me.  If I am dressed for work, my mind is dressed for work.  Imagine my surprise, when the Texan on the news programme that was playing, said the very same thing!  Apparently, there has been a move to make 'casual' the norm, as the younger generation are more 'comfortable' and able to work better if they are in more 'flexible' clothing.  The presenter claimed that he could not imagining not 'dressing' for work.  A suit and tie is the norm for him, and I was delighted!  

"Do you have a card?  I am an attorney and need to serve someone", said the less than well dressed man who entered my office.  Of course, there was no reason to suspect him not being an attorney, as a dark pair of jeans and white button up shirt, perhaps with a 'conventional' tie, perhaps with a 'bolo' tie.  He was far more casual, but again, in your own office, you wear what you want!  Perhaps 'doing research' calls for casual clothes, despite 'digging' not being in dirt with a shovel!  I digress!  I gave the man a card and did not expect to see him again.  I was wrong!

The office opposite ours has not had a 'full time' occupant since the speech therapist vacated.  A new company sign was put on the door, and someone did appear to move in, but they never appeared to take up full occupancy. We wondered whether they worked at night, but there did not seem to be any sign of movement.  As stealthily as they moved in, (despite my managing to catch them when they first entered the building,) they moved out!  'In and out like a flash', would be tortoise like compared to how they came and went!  This week someone new appeared to move in.  I was more than a little curious.  Nosey is such a misunderstood adjective!  We thought, at first, it might be the 'construction' company that have taken three offices in our building.  However, there was a dog laying on the carpet, and no one in the 'construction' group appear to have canines.  Someone left, in a hurry, and I looked out of the window to try and get a glimpse.  

I decided that they were nothing to do with the construction company.  The man whom I saw comingback in to the office looked more like the English actor Bill Bailey, and resembled a sixties hippy rather than someone who would be putting down irrigation pipes.  Not that I have anything against sixties hippies, as I would have loved to have been part of that scene, minus the contraband!  The freedom aspect always seemed to be so appealing.  Of course, I think I may have been slightly disillusioned!  I grabbed our mailbox key and exited the office.  Stealth was not my forte.  In the furor to see the new person, I rushed out so fast that I nearly knocked the poor man over.  Of course, not by design, but perfectly coordinated, nonetheless, I apologised and introduced myself.  "Welcome to the building", I said, wondering why I say that, as it makes it sound like we are all spying on each other. when in actual fact, it is only me who is doing the spying!  Spying?  Perhaps 'curiousing' would be a good, if not made up, word!  Suddenly, out of the back office, a figure emerged.  It was too late.  He had been spied upon!  It was the 'attorney'.  "Hello" I said with great gusto.  "Hi." he replied, looking as if I recognised him.  "Again", I confirmed his suspicions.  "Yeah, we met.  She has such a cool office", he recovered.  Is that the best he could do?  Perhaps he is an attorney.  Perhaps he does think I have a cool office.  However, I am still doubtful.  The non-construction guy introduced himself and told me that they are a tech company, and deal in something I did not catch.  Perhaps it was hippy slang!  He seemed very pleasant and I told him that we are always here and if they need anything....(Like what?  ridiculous statement number two....and as you know doubt know, I probably have many more lined up!)  

The eccentric Englishwoman hobbled out in her stilettoes and made it to and from the postbox without encountering anymore prey!  

The week continued, with rain here and there.  We were frantically busy/  In fact we broke record after record in 'numbers' but that was probably due to one of our clients being very behind and finding someone to help 'catch up'.  Grant won tickets to a hockey game, but there were only four, and no one else won so I let him distribute them fairly.  Samantha and Edward are now a threesome with the baby so I bowed out.  

After a swim, I sat and listened to the thunder rolling on Saturday.  It got closer, and closer until the wind was quite ferocious, and the skies dark grey.  I gave in and headed home.  Thankfully, I have an umbrella and it was used!  I returned an hour later when the skies were blue and rain appeared to be a thing of the past.  However, the thunder still rumbled well into the evening.  

American Mothers Day is upon us, which means we are almost half way through May!  It seems impossible, but here we are!  The wind is still quite fierce but I think it will be warm enough for me to have a couple of hours respite in my preferred location!  Hopefully it wont be too busy.  

We actually have a few things planned for next week, plans that are set in stone as much as plans can be set in stone!  Never say never!  I shall report more in .......... another story!

IN COGNITO!

The family that came down to the pool on Sunday were not as pleasantly surprised as they thought they might be,  Two little girls and their dad entered the area, with expectations of a wonderfully fun afternoon in the water, but soon realised the temperature was not conducive to just standing around and splashing! Despite the beautiful sunshine, the month was still March!  Seventy four may be pleasant to sit, or walk, but as a liquid temperature, it is not particularly warm!  Having had my swim, I was now ready to get warm, again!  I left them to it, with the girls telling their father that they wanted to go home!

Once the week started, there was no time for frivolity.  The maintenance man at our office was called to fix a light.  He is a very pleasant chap, with whom I share a fascination of the younger generation and their ability to understand English, be it American or Original!  He has chased off many a solicitor, showing them the rather large sign on the door, that expressly forbids them attempting to 'sell their wares' on the premises.  We have come to the joint conclusion that they have no idea to what 'no soliciting' pertains.  Of course, I explained that in England, the sign would (or did) refer to the 'oldest profession' and 'ladies of the night' were not permitted to tempt possible customers to partake in illicit adventures!  Plying ones wares is not permitted in our building, in any shape or form, although I have not encountered any 'traditional' vendors.  Normally, we encounter those wishing to promote their telephone expertise, or electronic devices!  However, I digress!  Our maintenance man came in to check out a faulty light bulb and left having fitted a new and improved unit!  Within minutes, another bulb in another unit had blown!

It was with a strange sense of regret that I realised I am no longer up on what goes on in this city in which I live.  My friend, Michele, (the lady who first suggested I 'blog', and whose identify perhaps I should have not given, to protect the innocent,) told me that a colleague of hers will be visiting Austin in the autumn, coming primarily to attend the Formula 1 races!  She asked for some suggestions for day trips, good restaurants, and any other things of interest!  My first response was to suggest San Antonio, and the Alamo, or perhaps a longer drive to the Space Center in Houston.  Locally...well there I was stumped a little.  Not working 'downtown' and rarely venturing there, apart from going to concerts, which did not really give me an insight into what is actually on offer, I am a little out of touch!  Sixth Street, off which we used to office, is not the same buzzing place as it was, and other venues that were popular for visitors have been either closed or rebuilt.  I told her that I would get back to her with a list.  It was all rather sad.  I was no longer a 'tourist'!

Although I have been here for two decades, and am no longer the 'tourist' that I was for at least one of them, with tourist tendencies merging into the start of the second ten years, I am still not completely accepted as a 'local'.  I am quite happy with that as it keeps my identity alive!  My expertise on all things 'British' is considered to be a plus by many, although I am far more knowledgeable of US and Texan law than I am of current British.  "Not any more" I hear more and more, as I speak to family and friends.  A different form of government, of course, naturally means different 'rights' and knowing the 'can's' and 'can't's' of where you live, has to be an advantage.  However, on a culinary level, I think I have become pretty au fait with both!  However, a culinary level will not get me out of a speeding ticket, or parking fine, etc!  "Please, officer.  I can tell you how to bake the perfect cake", or "Contempt, your honour!  How about a great recipe for Yorkshire Pudding!", would probably not be considered a 'bullet proof' defense!  Nor, "I can tell you the difference between an English pint and tablespoon, opposed to an American!"   

Back to my week, and it progressed.  I won tickets for a hockey game, but could not attend.  Samantha and Edward gladly accepted the prize, and the little one had a great time.  Perhaps it is because the game is so fast.  Hockey was never 'my' game.  I managed to avoid it when in school, although Ice Hockey may have been more enjoyable.  Since moving here, I have become quite the fan, especially when 'given' tickets, grattis!  I was glad the tickets could be used.

The maintenance man arrived back on site, and wondered if the Brits were causing a revolt.  "Is it safe to come in?" he joked.  Apparently the issue was more severe than just a blown bulb and he had to come back with more equipment the following day.  "Let me know if there are any more problems!" he said, laughing that this was a 'take over' ploy!  

The week progressed, and it was looking to be our busiest ever!  The mornings were quite warm, giving way to hotter days, and by Friday it was looking like summer.  Blooms appeared, and the smell of lilac was very strong in the air.  Despite having the same smell, the blooms have a slightly different appearance.  It does remind me of home, and my childhood.  Lilac generally meant spring had sprung.  

One of our gals brought her son and daughter in law into the office, with her granddaughter.  Her son, whom we have known since a lad, had worked with us for a while many years ago, and it is always good to see him.  He mentioned that they were going to take a 'Duck Tour'.  "Duck Tour!" I repeated, and told him that I had been asked to give some suggestions of local things to do, to some visitors that were coming in October.  He was reared in the greater Austin area, and he admitted to feeling like a tourist now.  He had no idea what to show his wife as being typically Austin.  I admitted to having the same feeling, having been away from Downtown for so long.  "And I am a foreigner!" I added, mentioning that when I go home I feel more like a tourist, and definitely do 'tourist things'.  I have never taken a 'Duck Tour', although the 'water' part is not really appealing to me.  

We finished work on Friday night and exited the cool office building into a humid evening dusk.  April!  Rain had been forecast, and we were looking forward to it, as the ground has been very dry, but it did not appear to materialise.  I watched all evening for signs of a storm, but despite dark clouds gathering, no moisture fell.

Saturday morning felt slightly more chilly.  We had a slight downpour around five, but it had not made much difference.  The pool was still hovering at around seventy two degrees, even though the wind had picked up.  I emptied the skimmers and headed home.  After shopping with my daughter and grandson, where we were greeted in all stores like long lost friends, I decided to see if it was warm enough to swim. As the water was warmer than the outside temperature, it felt rather good, but it was not really warm enough to sit and read.  I headed back to the warmer inside!  I had to wear a jacket for the first time this week!

Always amused, but never surprised, by the change in the temperatures, I ventured out into what were arctic conditions on Sunday.  Although the temperatures read about 45, the 'feels like' due to the wind, was below freezing.  The bitter breeze cut through my coat, and my eyes watered as I trudged along, wondering why I had bothered to brave the elements.  I cleaned the skimmers, which were full, and swept the filters, as best I could, taking care not to allow my phone to be in a position to fall in!  It was not going to get much warmer, and the water temperature had dropped to sixty!  Although it was warmer than the outside temperature, I doubted I would be swimming later!  It was not as if I had to!  Perhaps in the early years, I would have taken on the challenge, and perhaps remembering what it was like to be a 'tourist' would revive the 'what you can do in Austin' memories, but other methods may be a little more appealing!

After speaking to my sister, and sharing events of our lives, I once again marveled at how I got here!  I feel that as long as I remember the times that I was a tourist, and indeed, a visitor, I would still feel everything was new.  An Englishwoman abroad!  Perhaps Texan in dress (sometimes) and Texan in activity and lifestyle (moreso) I will always be that Englishwoman abroad.  Perhaps some consider eccentric.  Sometimes it is exciting and sometimes mundane.  After all, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.  The question is, from which side of the fence do you want to view the grass.  Now that is a topic for ........... another story!