Let's start the week before last. I didn't swim. It was too cold. I cleaned the pool, I read for three hours, as my book was a real page turner, and I could not stop, but venturing past my knees into the water, was just not going to happen. I could have, and there would have been a time when I would have, but I was quite pleased that I did not feel the need! Suffice it to say, I spent the afternoon just doing very little! It was Sunday and I was 'resting'.
Monday morning started quite differently. Dana had an appointment at the VA. It was a follow up, and I wanted to go with him, as it was a 'follow up'. He had been before for a 'general' visit, and Edward had accompanied him, but I wanted to go, not least to see how he was doing after the crazy episode at the end of last year, but to experience this amazing facility about which he talked! Shallow, maybe, but I have heard 'horror stories' about veterans and experiences with the Veterans' Affairs offices.
The building was very clinical, as would be expected. It was very bright. It was very large. We headed to the 'next level' where we found the optometrist, made an appointment, walked back and checked in. Everything about the place was run with precision. If your appointment was at nine, you were called at nine! There was a sense of camaraderie that is not often seen. Older veterans were never given much respect because their duties involved serving in places where a lot of the population felt the government had no right interfering. The fact of the matter was that a soldier (in any area of military service) had signed up to protect and serve, and did what they were told, and went where they were assigned! Conflicts were not their fault, not started by them, nor did they decide when they were 'over' but they chose to give up so many years of their lives to do it. They wanted to protect and serve, and if their government chose to put them in places where others felt they should not be, then it was part and parcel of the job! Conflicts are not started by those who take an oath to protect and serve! I shall stand down now, but will take my soap box with me as I feel it may be required again!
As we waited for the 'call', I watched as men and women, of all ages, some in uniform, most not, came and went. We chatted to a couple of women, one older and in a wheelchair. She had been in the marines. She 'joined' in 1965, and although was told not to volunteer for anything, volunteered for everything. However, she was a woman, and the only women that saw combat of any sort, were nurses. She was in administration. She still served her country and put her life on hold. Her daughter, who was with her, had been on active duty. She served in Baghdad. Again, no matter your opinion, she went where she was assigned, and I was grateful for all those who were at this facility, as they were willing to die for me! Although she was willing to sign up for another 'tour', she did not, as her husband sent her a 'dear Jane' letter and threatened to relieve her of her parental rights of their children. (Soap box comes out again.) I was devastated. No matter what your differences, you married a solider! If you have 'irrevocable' differences, then so be it, but when your 'soldier' is putting their life on the line, for others, to threaten such an action is, in my opinion, awful! (I could use stronger words, but it is just my opinion.) The fact the 'parent' puts others first, and not just their kids, may seem to be a little off-putting to some, but as I said, "You married a soldier!" Of course, there could be mitigating circumstances; abuse; neglect; but as the woman to whom we spoke 'won' her girls, and they are still willing to be with her, and near her, (they stick close together,) it would appear that it was merely an 'irrevocable' relationship between the adults. I felt my mouth open and had to stop my jaw from dropping too far. I know it sounds selfish, but thankfully my husband was called before I started to cry!
Before we left the building, we went to 'enrollment' where we met and chatted with another veteran, and mutual admiration was exchanged. There was a 'travel' kiosk, which I (naively) thought was an 'agency' rather than a 'refund of fares' opportunity.
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Despite the late arrival at the office, I was not pressured. Things had been put into perspective. I worked for as long as needed and went home, ate dinner and eventually went to bed. Did Jack Nicholson's character in 'A Few Good Men' have a point? A discussion for another day! Have I lost readers? Oh well!
"We are looking to serve someone in the Carolinas, not sure if it is North or South, but can you help us?" came the soft Scottish accent over the phone. I replied that we could and she continued. Apparently, an old client who was lost due to a paralegal shift (as is often the case) had been told by her current process server that they were unable to help. After ironing out the particulars, she said, "Where are you from?" I responded, "North West London, and I was about to say, you sound like you are from out of town". She told me she was from Scotland, and it was so nice to hear a 'British' accent! As patriotic as the Scots are, and as fiercely loyal to being 'Scottish', when confronted with a fellow Brit overseas, we are once again, a United Kingdom! We chatted back and forth about Austin, and how we both got homesick on occasion, but enjoyed the city, and then said our farewells.
My day continued. I spoke to the lady several times, as there were some problems with her papers, and I pointed out what I knew to be wrong. She was most grateful, and said that she was new at this, and obviously, I had been doing it for many years. I eased her mind by letting her know that many attorneys do not know the rules when it comes to civil process! I said that my husband was known as the attorney's attorney and had probably forgotten more than I would ever know, and waited for the corrected papers
Finding process servers in rural parts of the state is sometimes an ordeal. Occasionally, I will have to put it in the hands of a Sheriff, but the destination of the papers from the Scottish lady was not an easy place like, "One of the Carolinas", but very remote part of Mississippi. Instead of trying to find law enforcement in the area, I made a search for 'family' lawyers. 'Family' does not indicate they are all related, but those who deal with divorce and custody cases. One firm came out on top and I called them. I explained that I had a 'family law suit' and wondered who they used to serve their papers. The lady on the phone (who was definitely a southerner) did not hesitate to give me a name. I retrieved a phone number and left a message.
The logistics of our business can be stressful at times, but other times they can make me laugh. I received a call from someone whose drawl lengthened by the word. He would take care of my paper, for a reasonable fee, and did not require payment ahead of time. He gave me his email address, and told me that he lived on 'Road' and then gave me the number of the house and street. I found it very amusing.
As the weekend approached, promises of a cool down could be heard. It was quite warm and I received a message from our Chairman to ask if I had been swimming. The water was 71 degrees! I was tempted to ask, "Have you?" knowing that he would not so much as dip his toes below 80, but I resisted.
My new Scottish friend called with an update, and some more information, which had been sent in an email as well. It was rather amusing as the email was a 'reply all' variety, and I could see the 'back and forth' between her and the attorneys. They were not anticipating the serve being straightforward as they thought the servee would perhaps try and avoid. Not with my guy, I thought. He seemed to sure of success!
Late Thursday afternoon, I received a call from Mississippi. The respondent in the case was not at work, and had left early for the day, a most rare occurrence, so my guy was heading for the home address. He would call me once done! I wondered if he was as good as he thought he was, and if he could penetrate this fortress that was apparently surrounding the respondent. Sure enough, I received the call. "I don't know if the picture came out good" he said. I was a little shocked to receive a picture of the respondent with paper in hand, like a 'mug shot' of an arrested person! It was the ultimate insult to injury. "Here are your divorce papers, now pose, and smile!
It had been a particularly interesting week. It was rather chilly on Saturday. We decided to try something new for dinner. Although we had been to this establishment before, we could not remember why we did not returns, as the menu looked fairly appealing and the pictures of food were quite authentic. The last time, only time, we frequented the establishment, a guy proposed to his girlfriend. There were only the four of us in the restaurant at the time. It seemed time to try it again. As we walked in, there were three occupied tables. We looked at the menu, saw some bowls of steaming food being delivered to tables, and asked our waitress for a recommendation. She merely showed us the 'entrees' list. Everything looked wonderful in the pictures, but the steaming bowls did not seem to be on the page.
We ordered, and waited. The two initial couples left, and another man entered. Two people came in to order 'take out'. We waited. Another four came in and sat by the door. Another four came in and sat across from us. The waitress ran around the restaurant, took the orders, and disappeared behind the half wall that separated us from the kitchen. One of the 'take out' orders was completed, then the other. The gentleman who came in after us was delivered a 'steaming bowl', and the four who were sitting by the door received an appetiser. We signaled to the waitress. We had been sitting for thirty minutes. "I will get them to hurry", she said. Another 'take out' order was completed, another appetiser was brought out, and finally, our dinner was placed before us. Mine was cold, as it was meant to be cold, and despite looking absolutely phenomenal, it was a little disappointing. Dana's steak and steamed vegetables, despite looking every bit as appealing as on the picture, was cold. The steak was like leather and unchewable!
Our waitress was very disappointed when we commented and asked if we would mind waiting two minutes for a new piece of steak to be cooked. She appeared to be quite devastated by what had occurred, so we concurred. I suppose we were either not in a hurry, or felt that the young lady would have broken down and drowned in her own lake of tears, but fifteen minutes later, a steak, in a 'take out' carton, arrived at our table. It was hot, so they presumable only had only just taken it off the grill. We paid our bill and left. The waitress followed us out, almost on her knees, begging our forgiveness. It was a strange scene.
Sunday morning we decided to go out for breakfast. It was a nice outing, and we enjoyed our experience. The Waffle House has never been known for its sparkling cleanliness, but that is part of the charm! We were greeted by the hostess, and sat at a table which sided on to the 'kitchen'. I decided to have a waffle with my egg and toast. It was not thick, but fluffy and quite good. The maple syrup was sticky, as it should be. The jug that held the maple syrup was sticky, the ring it left each time I put it down was sticky! The menus were sticky. It was amazing! The food was fantastic, as were the staff. Although assigned a server, everyone was taking care of us. Two ladies left as we were sitting, dressed as if they had been out all night, and cared not for modesty, and that was all part of the charm. They looked as if they would be able to 'take care of themselves', if anyone should choose to use the excuse that 'they were asking for it'. Perhaps I am being 'politically incorrect' on two counts here, but the truth should count for something! I admired them for dressing as they sought fit, rather than according to old fashioned 'protocol'. I remember my mother telling me I should not wear certain things, as I was vertically challenged and did not 'have the legs', which as a young girl was rather a devastating comment, but I stuck to what suited me, and only now do I sometimes veer from 'protocol'. (However, not as far as the ladies leaving the restaurant!)
Sunday evening, we picked up some chicken went to Samantha as it was Mother's Day, as mentioned. Edward had an appointment, and would be home later. We left some chicken for him and came home. Another week was about to begin.
My Scottish lady contacted me on Monday to say she had another paper for the chap whom had been served last week, and could we take care of it. Of course we could!
Grant asked me about my weekend and I told him where we had breakfasted. "I know the one" he said. Apparently, he would go there early in the morning when working at his previous job. "It is open twenty four seven, and there are a lot of 'gentlemens' clubs' around. All the girls go there!" I wondered! Not to put a label on the two 'girls' I had seen, but it was a possibility. I have no idea what time the 'clubs' close, if at all! Perhaps I was being really politically incorrect and labeling the women without cause.
Once again, March was as predicted. Hot days, cold days, miserable days and sunny days. Sometimes, all in one day! It was 'spring break' and also the music festival had started. Samantha and I had decided not to take part in any form this year, and it bothered us not. We found it interesting that it bothered us not! We agreed that we had the best years!
Our schedule was altered as some of the agencies that receive papers 'downtown' were closing early, so their staff could leave without getting caught up in the 'snarl up' that becomes the norm when roads are closed, and would be able to leave their building without being stopped and told they cannot drive along their exit route! I am sure 'the powers that be' have developed a more realistic way of organising the traffic over the past ten years, but then again, perhaps not!
The week was not as busy as the one before, although I did have a dental appointment. It all went very quickly and without incident. The kind I like! My fella in Mississippi once again served my papers, and got another picture. This time the respondent seemed to be laughing. Maybe he was told to!
Each day, I opened my laptop and typed a little bit more. "Tomorrow" I said to myself. It never happened!
Storms dictated my weekend. I was quite excited by the fact that the plants I had planted last year from my own seeds, that had not produced, were suddenly blossoming, a year later and tomatoes were being born by the day! I also noticed that the pepper plant that had been dormant, suddenly had buds for flowers. Perhaps, like a dough 'starter' it takes longer when it is done from scratch!
Saturday saw some rain, but not enough to quench the drought, but the storm on Saturday night, Sunday morning was quite prolific. Thunder boomed for an hour during the small hours, and I could hear the hail splatter against the windows. The debris was almost non-existent on Sunday morning but the pool was rather messy. All the little catkins had dropped from the tree, and were clogging the skimmers, as happens this time of year.
Finally, despite 'Tomorrow' not being here, I can publish this post before the next 'Tomorrow' becomes 'Today'. I have no idea what is on my agenda for the rest of the day, as the weather is still quite turbulent. Perhaps I will be 'on top' of things next week. Watch out, there may be ........... another story!
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