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Sunday, April 8, 2012


The erratic and diverse occurrances of this week have all proven to make my week far from dull. 
Work was inconsistent, which was not surprising, with the run up to the Easter weekend.  Monday, which is usually the quietest day of the week, turned out to be a race against time, as I had to prepare some papers for one of our guys to take to Dallas, on Tuesday.  We had some reports of possible storms, but being several hundred miles away, we were not aware of the tempests that raged.  Jerry called us mid afternoon to say that he had seen one of the tornadoes touch down; a sight that was fantastic, as long as it was from a distance.

By Wednesday, I was ready for the weekend.  After the stormy weather the day before, the temperature was slightly cooler first thing in the morning, so I opted for a trousers suit.  Unfortunately, the fresh start did not continue, and by nine, I was starting to regret my choice.  I was due to have my nails manicured, (that still sounds very strange.) and received a call to ask if I could reschedule to one o'clock. I had left the office, and was sitting in the car when I received the call.  Hanging up the phone, I walked back into the office, removed my jacket, and ran my fingers through my hair to get it off my face.  I am not sure how movie stars create the sexy, alluring look when they sweep their mane from their forehead, and maintain an even better coiffured look.  I looked like I had been pulled through a hedge backwards, by a raging bull!  My silky blouse was only half tucked in, and it stuck to my back when I removed my jacket.  I was about to make myself more presentable when someone walked into the office.  'Good morning', I said, rather than 'hello', to try and maintain a more sophisticated air.  Presumably having taken lessons from Angelina Jolie, she swept her curls from her face, and asked to speak to Dana.  Although it is not a secret, we do not publicise the fact we are married, unless someone asks, and it is often presumed, with an English accent, that I am just the receptionist.  As this young, very young lady had not met Dana before, she had no reason to suspect that I was anything other than the rather unkempt Brit who answered the phone. 

I have never felt comfortable in micro skirts, nor have I had anything ample enough between my neck and waist to flaunt, but I was in the presence of an expert.  I resisted the temptation of trying to find Marilyn Monroe's version of, 'I wanna be loved by you' with the 'boo boo be do' bits, as a musical accompaniment, and went to find a comb!  To give her the benefit of the doubt, (which I am accustomed to do,) it would appear that she had one of those hard to reach itches, as she stood with her back to the door post ,and stretched up and down against the wood.  It was at this point that Dana's oblivious gene gave way to the 'is she flirting with me' gene, and he looked across at me.  He maintains it is always reassuring to see me with my bottom lip clenched tightly between my teeth, as I fight back the laughter.  The very young lady finally left, and Dana remarked, 'that was obvious, wasn't it!' 

My one o'clock appointment was preceded by a trip to the Post Office.  We had a paper to send to Mexico, and this had to be delivered by Registered Mail. I had done my homework, and put the suggested stamps on the envelope, and completed the paperwork, as per the official website.  Fortunately, the queue was short, and I was called to the counter very quickly. 'Hmm, why you put so much on here?', I was asked by the official behind the desk.  I wondered how I had got it so wrong.  He weighed the envelope again.  I explained that I needed the return receipt, and the price went up slightly.  I then said that I needed it to be 'restricted to the addressee'.  That, apparently, was not going to happen.  'You aint gonna get no restricted delivery in Mexico', he laughed, but said he would check.  'Dang girl!  You is right!' was something I would never have heard from the postmaster in Hertfordshire!!
Thursday, I opted to wear something more appropriate for a heat wave.  The weatherpersons, once again, reported that the temperatures were above average, which always makes me want to ask if they have considered recalculating the 'average', as every year, at least since I have lived here, we experience, 'above'.  It was hot.  I kept my head out of the weather, and did not need to sweep unkempt strands from my forehead. 

The last day of the work week was not as quiet as we had anticipated Good Friday would be.  The schools were not open, nor were the surrounding county courthouses.  We were, of course, open for business.  Samantha and I had to make a trip to the post office again, although this time it was for far less complicated reasons; although buying stamps is never as easy as it would seem, as our main office does not hold a great deal of stock.  However, we were successful, although a trip that includes stepping outside the office door, normally means an encounter with someone who literally does not have a home to go to.  This time it was a young man who wanted $4.25.  I did not recognise him as a 'local' and did not hear the reason for the specific amount, as I do tend to turn a deaf ear to many stories of explanation.  Watching, as I do from time to time, the people who spend their day under the tree, at the end of the road, I witness the artistry, and excellency, of how they achieve their goal.  They are quite adept.  I have seen each member of a group ask different people for money, each giving different reasons, (at one time one asked Samantha, another asked me, and another asked one of our servers) then pool the proceeds, and send the best dressed to the convenience store to buy beer, and cigarettes. I do admire their tenacity, and their pitch is perfect, but I am not going to feed their habit, whether it be all they live for, or not.  I may seem unsympathetic, but when too many have taken pity, the 'fallout' is normally under the shade of our office porch!  'I know my #*^% problem is not yours!' was perhaps not the best way to react to my saying, 'sorry I cant help', but it must have seemed like the right thing to say at the time.  Not to be put off, another string of abuse came from the young man's mouth, in an attempt to change my mind.  I did consider telling him that it would be better to alter his routine, but thought it best not to encourage a hopeless situation.  He was not adopted by our resident nomads, who are content with a 'no' and generally wish us a nice day, and presumably moved on to pastures #*^% greener.
The weekend has come and gone far too quickly, as usual.  Samantha and I tackled Walmart on Saturday, and my attempts to look for shoes on Easter Sunday was thwarted due to the shops being shut for the holidays, as it should be!  I did receive a compliment from a young man, approximately the same age as the very young lady who came into our office during the week.  He said he liked my hat, and said I looked very classy.  I chose not to believe that meant 'old'!  He didnt need a song, nor did he appear to have an itchy back! I told Dana we were even!  We live a simple life!  However, when the highlight of your week is how well your lemon curd turned out, it's time to get a hobby, and maybe....
another story.

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