corner, the turkey had been purchased, and despite having a variety of goodies needed already stocked, I had to add to line items written down in my little brown book. Yes, I still write a shopping list. There are still a few of us left, and we nod to each other in the stores. We have become a 'brotherhood', an 'alliance'. We are the written list writers! The childhood game of "I went on holiday and I took....", or "I went shopping and I bought...", can only be played for as long as the memory allows. "I am going shopping and I need....", becomes, "I am going shopping, where is my list!" 'Alexa' and her pals are not privy to my list. After all, she wouldn't understand. "Alexa, I need washing up liquid". She replies, "I am sorry, I cannot find a store called Tantrum Trolleys near you!"
The mornings had turned cold again, and I knew the weekend's swim may have been an anomaly. My beautiful flowers, that had been bought by my husband the previous week, greeted me as I entered my office. The aroma caused by the lilies was very pleasant and the blooms were full. I felt rather blessed. Work continued and it was time to do battle with the post office. I had sent a letter, via certified mail, requiring a signature upon arrival, to the Texas Department of Transportation. It is a common practice. I had taken the letter to the post office, rather than put it directly in the box, and had a stamp from the post office upon my receipt. As you can imagine, the receiving entity occupies rather a large building, downtown, and apparently receives 'boxes' of mail each day. It is a government entity. In short, it is a 'big deal'. However, the postman who was charged with delivering my letter was obviously unaware of its existence. Yes, I am being sarcastic! To cut a very long story short, after several conversations with customer service representatives, I received an email from the receiving post office, with profuse apologies, and the promise of delivery on Monday. However, by Monday afternoon, my letter was being sent to its destination, in Georgia! My language, when communicating a complaint, does not become rude, nor perverse. Instead, it becomes a lexicographers delight! I used my new favourite word, 'languishing', when referring to the letter and its prolonged time in the post office. I threw in the old favourite, 'ante-penultimate', and a few other linguistics that probably hindered rather than progressed the forwarding of my letter. It sends shivers down the spine of a shop worker! (As long as they are not an 'ex-pat'!) Of course, the person on the other end of the telephone line has nothing to do, personally, with my letter, and I am very polite. To the recipient of my email, I was more terse. He had made the mistake of ending his message with, "If there is anything more I can do". Well, in words of local dialect, "Heck, yeah!" I did not put that in! I wondered if I would get a response. I felt better so at least there was some benefit to the exchange!
After berating the post master with a method that probably obfuscated rather than defined, I went to wash the dishes. My mother always had a sentence which I thought was very telling. "These things are only lent!" Perhaps a more common version would be, "What goes around comes around". I finished my washing up, lifted the bowl of dirty water and went to pour it away. The handle of the bowl snapped, and the contents splashed all over the counter, on to the floor, and all over me! I stood in a puddle, lips pursed, wondering if I had been too harsh on the postmaster! "No, mum. You taught me to use these 'big words', so I used them!" I could but wonder!
The clean up project took a long time. The paper towels provided by our managing company are not particularly absorbent. Imagine mopping up after a flood with wrapping paper! Who needs a pool to go swimming! After the area looked reasonably normal I came back, with my broken bowl, to the office. I had already mentioned about needing foodstuff. "I went shopping, and I bought some turkey bacon. I went shopping and I bought some turkey bacon and some beef sausages. I went shopping and bought some bacon, sausages, and a bowl because this one is broken and I spilt water everywhere, and the paper towels are useless so it took forever to clean up!" Still dripping, I walked, head held high, into the back room and put the dishes away. Still dripping, I walked back to my desk, and ignored the sniggers that were coming from the other room.
The homeowners association meeting had been scheduled for five. It was then delayed until five thirty. It was then questioned whether it was needed. There were only two items on the agenda, and both were from me. Neither seemed to be agenda worthy. However, it was decided that some things needed to be discussed above and beyond my paltry offerings. "Why do you want a sign by the grass above the pool?" I was asked. I replied that when we were looking after 'the boys', I had seen a prolific amount of canine waste around the roses. We, that is the HOA have a couple of signs that are rotated around the property, and as a reminder that this was an offense, I wondered if one could be moved back to said area. There was a discussion as to whom was the culprit. Obviously, a dog! No I did not say that! Someone described a possibility. "You mean the guy who runs away", I said, without paying much attention. All eyes (via screen) were on me. "Well, when I go for a walk and he sees me, he picks up his dog and runs away. If I go down to the pool, before I can say "Hi", he picks up his dog and runs away. So it's possible he doesn't pick up the poop, but I can't say for sure." Horror! I used a word that was not in my mother's vocabulary! I was asked what the dog was like. "It's fluffy", was my response. A look of distain came back from one of the committee. "It's black and white...and fluffy". A further look of distain. "What breed is it?" was the comment from the distain looker. "I don't know breeds. It was not a dachshund or a corgi!" I said with certainty, and an iota of sarcasm. "King Charles?" No. Definitely not English! We narrowed it down to a Bijou or Lhasa Apso, perhaps! "Small then?" Heck yeah! I resisted the comment that it would be hard to just pick up a St. Bernard and run! It had been a long day. My certified mail was heading for a vacation in Georgia, and I had been almost drowned in a liquid avalanche! Sarcasm becomes rife when I am tired!
cranberry sauce!" What is a Thanksgiving dinner without cranberry sauce? It's a Thanksgiving dinner! It had been on my list, but we had left the shop the previous weekend without the purchase!
My memory had failed me on a few occasions this week. When watching a television programme, someone had mentioned a 'Faraday cage'. I knew little about Michael Faraday, the scientist, despite his name being that of my house team in high school! I was always in the yellow team. From the age of four until I left the educational system. We were generally the weakest team, winning sometimes, but never enough to be the all round winner. However, I digress. Recently, in fact over the past couple of months, Faraday's name has been thrown around regularly, and I can say with certainty that I have heard his name more times in the last few months than I have throughout my whole life, despite being at high school for five years! "We had four teams", I told Dana. "Faraday was yellow, Jenner red, Newton Blue, or was it green? The blue, or green team that wasn't Newton was...." and it had gone. I looked up 'British scientists' and was not inspired. I could not think. Who was the fourth? I messaged my friend Lynda. "Hey how are you. Been meaning to message. Hope all is well. By the way, do you remember......?" Within a minute, I received a reply. "At work. Chat later. Lister". Lister! Of course, the cowpox man. How could I forget! Whether he was blue or green made little difference. He was the fourth man. Not, of course, to be confused with Anthony Blunt, the infamous British spy! Lister saved lives! Lynda saved the day!
I drove across town to get my nails decorated on Wednesday, and listened to the radio. My preferred station had been taken over by another, and two new hosts were on air. The dry humour of the previous male, and the giggle of the previous female, with her propensity to be the straight guy in the comedy act, was missing. However, I was willing to give the new couple a chance. "Kitchen disasters", the host said. They were asking people to call in. A very sweet sounding lady, perhaps an older lady, called in and told her her disaster. She had forgotten to put sugar into her banana pudding. I sat and listened to the "Oh my", and "No way", and wondered. Okay, perhaps here it is a disaster. Banana pudding is a staple! A food group of its own, as they say, but to me this was a mistake, not a disaster. I should know. A disaster is setting fire to your oven when experimenting with Yorkshire puddings. Actually, the disaster is repeating the exercise! The horror in the voices of the hosts, and the sympathy that was extended made me realise that I really do not understand Texans at all! However, my husband and Grant also did not see it as a disaster. "A kitchen disaster is having no croutons in the pot", said Grant. I smiled, big! What a compliment! My homemade croutons have become a snack for the 'exercisers' when they finish. It is a race to the counter when the work out is done! "Thank you!" I said, still beaming.
By Friday, my letter had apparently made it back to Austin, headed out to somewhere obscure, and was now sitting in a post office, with a zip code so far out of town, that it would take a day's journey to get there! "Awaiting pick up" it said. From whom? Santa Claus on his way over Nova Scotia?
Despite the mornings getting warmer, and the sun shining for most of the week, Saturday morning was dull. At a little before seven, the sun was struggling to rise. Unlike me when complimented on my croutons, it could not project a ray, let alone beam! Drizzle fell on my shoulders and whilst I did not get as wet as when the bowl broke, it was damp. I walked 'the circuit' four times, and headed back for some coffee. It was not hot, but not cold.
Our shopping trip was fun. "I went shopping and I bought...". The list was rather long, but almost everything was ticked off. I could not remember it by heart, but Thursday is sorted!
Although still somewhat cloudy, I persevered and dangled my legs in the water. It was too cold. I read, and read. It was a glorious afternoon.
After breakfast, I walked again, and spoke to my daughter who had been on a three mile run! Very commendable!
I journeyed down to the pool, despite the sun's stubbornness. One of my neighbours was walking her dog. She said that she had not been swimming all summer. "I know it's not summer anymore", she said, as she headed on. "It's never winter in Texas!" I heard myself saying. "True!" she responded. I muttered to myself as I made my way down the steps to the pool patio. "Did you hear yourself?" Of course I did. "Never winter in Texas?" Perhaps I do understand the Texans more than I think!
Dangling my legs in the water did not inspire me to swim. I returned to my chair. The sun decided that this might be a good time to come out and play! It was really quite warm. Perhaps I could go for a swim after all. I did manage to get in up to my waist, and put my arms down by my side. If I was a cartoon, I would have turned blue, and had icicles coming down from my nose, chin and ears! I didn't need torture! Instead, I returned to my chair, enjoyed the sun's playtime, and then came home after a couple of hours of bliss!
Thanksgiving Thursday is approaching fast, and I have a turkey to cook. Despite not knowing what the following week will bring, at least I know I can depend on Thursday being a 'day off'. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all, or just a Happy Thursday to one and all. I am going to enjoy a short work week and then, perhaps, settle down for ...... another story!
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