There were twelve bagels of the desired variety in the racks, and I took them all. Into a plastic bag they went, and off I went to the cashier. "Ma'am. The bag is split", said the lady who is usually behind the counter at the bakery, but had driven in a couple of seconds after us. "Come over here and I will transfer them, and give you a ticket". Time was running down, but I did as I was told. As the bakery employee had just walked into work, she had to get 'set up'. I waited as the seconds started to tick away, and eventually, she handed me the buns, in a stronger bag, with a sticker that gave me a discount on the dozen. I marched swiftly to the till. "So when could you come in?" asked a manager to his employee, attempting to sort out a work rota. The employee to whom the question was being asked, seemed a little vague. "Could you come in at this time?" came another question They were standing at the end of the desk where I had taken my wares; the only desk that was open. The cashier was also standing looking at the rota. More customers came to pay. The three members of staff stood pondering over the duty roster, with hands stroking chins, (their own) as if in deep thought. No one said a word. I had thought about clearing my throat in an effort to raise an alarm, to let them know that there were several people now standing in the queue. "If I called you at six and asked you to come in, would that be okay". "Hmm", came the reply. I started to think this would be a fun place to work. Rather than 'the hours are', it would be, "When can you make it?" An elderly gentlemen interrupted the trio, asking for clarification on a receipt. "Let's move over here. Looks like people want to get out of here", said the manager. I then realised that the cashier at the desk, where the people waiting to check out and number of bagels in my bag, were of equal amount, was not actually involved in the conversation. Welcome to Randalls. Although time had now ticked into the negative, and I was going to be rather late for work (which would have been 'way cool' if I had actually worked here, by all accounts) no one seemed to be concerned. This is how they roll, and if you don't like it, well have a nice day! I would not consider taking my business elsewhere, (for the things I actually purchase there,) as the entertainment is second to none! It's Austin, y'all. Enjoy! I had my bagels, so mission accomplished!
By the time we got to work, the bell had already rung. I cleared a few things from Friday that I had left purposely untouched, and turned on my computers, ready to seize the day.
The door to our office has not been closing properly. When talking to an office neighbour, I was introduced to the fact that instead of calling and reporting maintenance issues, it was recommended that you go through the 'portal'. I was unaware of said 'portal', as I have always called, or emailed. However, I was not averse to protocol, and sent an email, asking how to go about getting the door fixed. It was a simple request. "Our office door is jamming. Looks like the door has warped. Do I let you know?" I knew that the lady with whom I had been electronically chatting had relinquished her role to another. I received a very cheery response, asking me if I had put the request to Angus. I wrote back. "I do not wish to sound uneducated, but is Angus a person on an app?" The response was that of a young person to a geriatric, although I could almost feel the compassion through the written word. "Ha ha", it started. "Angus is our portal". In good old English, my first response was "Flippin' 'eck!" The email was very helpful. I was given instructions on how to let 'Angus' know what I needed doing, and if it was too much for me to handle, she would take on the task, and make sure a work order was submitted. I replied that I was wiling to move with the times, and the process seemed fairly straightforward. I submitted a work order to, or through, 'Angus'.
The day progressed, and it was rather quieter than usual. I was very thankful. I came home at lunchtime to go swimming. "So, France won. Did you see the game?" asked Raul, as I descended to the pool. "Weather's hot, isn't it. No sign of rain", I said, with a cheeky grin across my face. He laughed. We chatted for a while, giving the World Cup final game the traditional autopsy, and put it to bed for another four years. After a brief period of exercise, I returned to work for the afternoon.
I left Dana at the office on Monday, went for an evening swim, and then returned to collect him. Clearing my mind 'through laps' seemed to be a good idea, and I managed to clear my desk with a renewed vigour.
Tuesday was somewhat busier. The postman left a couple of letters, as is usual on a Tuesday, and one was addressed to a couple, at our office address, but without a suite number. The letter looked as if it contained a cheque, and I did not want to 'return to sender', as I had been told, previously, that they are not always sent back. Occasionally, and I was told that this was more often than not, they can be left in a large pile, until someone decides it is time to 'spring clean'. I was left to form my own opinion as to 'what happens next'. In light of such a comment, I decided to do some detective work! The appraisal district website for our county did not show a property owned by the couple. I tried to find a phone number, but it was not published. I found a phone number for the sender, who lived in Arkansas, but she did not answer. I then started to dig deeper. I was quite pleased with myself as I found a connection between the recipient, and another lady of the same name. It was not a common name. I noticed a home owner with the same name, was possibly related to the recipient as shown on the telephone website. I found a number for the home owner. Before calling, I did what I should not do, and opened the letter. It did not seem official, as it was hand written by an elderly person, and it was also not properly sealed, so I did not feel I was in total violation. I could argue that it was addressed to my address, and therefore, I was not tampering. It was a condolence letter. This prompted me to continue with the call. However, I was unsure as to what to say. I think I would be a little wary if I received a call from a stranger asking me if I knew the would be recipient of a letter I had received. I bit the bullet, so to speak, and called. "Hello. I am so sorry to bother you, and you do not know me, but.....". I hesitated. That did not sound good, but I was on a mission. I explained the circumstances, and the lady on the other end of the line was most gracious, and helpful. She knew the male name, but not the female. I had wondered if the sender had made a mistake with the feminine name, and it appeared I was correct. It appeared that the lady on the end of the telephone, was (and still is) married to the builder of our building, and although she had no idea how the Arkansan got the address, if I sent the letter to her, she would forward it. She then gave me her address, which I thought to be rather brave of her, despite the fact that I knew what it was as I had found it on the appraisal district website. Mission accomplished! When I told Dana what I had done, he decided we should just close the business and become 'PI's' in our retirement years! "Why did the mailman put the letter in our box, as opposed to any of the other businesses?" he asked. I told him that Randy had told the new mailman, "If you want to know anything about anyone in the building, ask Tracie". Dana looked. "Who is Randy?" he said. "Great investigator you would make", I laughed. "He was our mailman for two years!" Dana recalled, somewhat shamefully. "That was the question you asked. Not, 'why does he think you are so nosey'?" Dana responded. "That is why you would make a great PI!" Compliment?
I decided that it was not too late to swim after seven in the evening, and did so on Tuesday, despite being a little concerned about mosquitoes.
Joe did not respond to my text on Wednesday, so I did not go for coffee. I did go to the new venue for my nails, which is now back downtown. It was an easy drive there, and a much easier drive back. I returned to the office to find that the door had been fixed. 'Angus' had done me proud. I had also received an email from my new best friend, giving me details of the intricately performed repair, which was far from a modern day technological solution to the problem. "By using a two-by-four and my rubber mallet hammer, I was able to hit the door frame at the top corner lowering the door to close properly". I was very grateful, but found the descriptive method most amusing. In my opinion, 'old fashioned' rules!
The temperatures soared above the century, and we were given heat advisory warnings.
Our weekend was somewhat fraught. Samantha had received devastating news about Frank, and the air was soured from Friday afternoon. However, he is still rather lively and we are not beyond hope, faith and miracles, and he is certainly not ready to leave this earth just yet, (as has been corroborated by all who have seen him, and have experience with animals,) so I am not going to 'go there' at this point.
Shopping continued, and we hit all the usual suspects! The temperature continued to rise, and each time we left the car, our energy was sapped just a little more. I collected a picture, from Costco, that I had ordered on Friday night. It was one of Dana playing his guitar, and I had taken it secretly more than two years ago, and had failed to get it printed. I was rather pleased with the outcome and hoped he would be too. I hovered around the bananas in Walmart, and noticed an elderly lady looking rather intently at fruit. Her hair was a similar colour to mine, but was cut in a short bob, and had a slight silvery hue. As is customary in this area, I went across to compliment her. ("We don't do that here", I heard my mother's voice in my head, remembering when I complimented a lady in Waitrose supermarket, when at home one summer.) "Your hair is beautiful. Beautiful cut and beautiful colour", I said, as she browsed the cherries. Her face brightened, and she smiled, and then her lip started to quiver. "Thank you", she said, and then her voice broke, "You have made my day". I was unsure as to whether it was worth 'doing that here', as she looked through glazed eyes, but the immense gratitude across her face made me realise it was a good thing! A kind word turns away wrath, I thought, and perhaps I had just answered a prayer.
I swam a lot on Saturday, refusing to heed warnings that insisted I stay indoors, as I submerged myself into the shady area of the pool and read in between laps. My Spanish neighbour thought along the same lines as me. After my spell by the pool, I returned home to find Dana fast asleep, and put the picture into a frame ready to show him when he awoke. "Wow, that is good. Who is it?" he asked, not realising at first. He then recognised the decor, and realisation flooded his face. "Wow! That is good!" Mission accomplished, again!
Dana and I went out for dinner on Saturday night. We traveled across across town to one of the steakhouses that has 'good bread', and found it to be busy. This was a good sign. However, although when good this place is very, very good, when it is not, it is horrid, to quote an old nursery rhyme. I ordered the standard. Steak and chips, as we would say in England, although here my 'side' would be 'fries'. Dana was hungry. "Steak and Parmesan chicken", he said to the waiter, who took our order. Our salads arrived and were as ordered. Our main course arrived and whilst mine looked delicious, Dana's was not correct. They had given him a steak with a Parmesan crust. The waiter apologised, and took the plate away. I started to eat my meal, as my husband insisted. As I was almost done, his meal arrived. Shortly after, so did the manager. "I am so sorry. We have taken this off the bill. Anything else we can do for you, it's on us. Have a dessert. Please". Dana thanked her, told her it was unnecessary as he was now enjoying the meal, but she insisted. We did not want dessert. At one time in my life, I think I may have taken everything offered, but my attitude has mellowed, and it would be 'for the sake of it'. Neither of us were interested in dessert. "We could just take the chocolate cake, and I could recreate Buffalo and sit on it", I said to Dana, remembering a similar problem and the offer to pay for my dinner and free dessert when I was 'on holiday' with the kids. The bill came up and Dana felt rather guilty about the subtraction, and decided to leave a larger tip than normal for the waiter. "How much was it?" I asked. The amount seemed excessive, as my meal was not as expensive as his, and his meal was the one removed. When he looked at the bill again, he saw that I had been charged for the parmesan crust. "But I didn't have it!" I said, and we both started to giggle. The waiter looked over, but did not approach. "I don't feel so bad now!" said Dana.
I slept on Saturday night better than I had slept in months. The outside temperatures were still very hot. We had breakfast and I went for my constitutional. The air was thin, and I could feel the heat attempting to steal my vigour. I refused to succumb and walked to the top of the hill. I felt quite liberated on the way down the hill. I was wearing a white flowing dress, golden flip flop type sandals, and my hair was in braids, covered by a hat. A little 'hippy like', I told Dana. In fact, I felt a little conspicuous, by my standards, and before we went to breakfast I told him that we were bound to meet someone he knew, who would wonder why he was with a woman who insisted on dressing like 'mutton dressed as lamb'. "Would you dress like that in England?" he asked, expecting an affirmative reply. "No way!" I said, making him wonder why. He thought I looked elegant. Different world!
We did not meet anyone at breakfast, although I did continue with my 'kind word' theme, and approached a couple whom I had seen enter, to tell them that they looked very striking, as they did, and very elegant. They were very touched, and thanked me with gumption.
The barometer is reading 105 degrees for today, with 109 for tomorrow. When I moved to Texas, the temperature in England had not yet completely changed to Celsius but for those who prefer the other scale, that is 41 and 43. Doesn't sound as hot to me! I plan to disobey orders and go outside later, swim and read, and maybe doze. After all, at my age, why not! If I can look like a hippie for breakfast, I can look like a 'senior' by the pool!
Next week is going to be interesting. I know that I have a lot of work on my desk, already, as I left on Friday in a great hurry, accompanying Samantha to the 'you know where', to pick up the pup, and disregarded anything else. I plan to stay positive, and next week is next week, so there will be ............ another story!
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