Is it just me or has anyone else noticed there are certain things that are going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible..... Or, nearly the worst time possible?
     Usually, it's man-made stuff that goes on the fritz at the worst time. But sometimes, it can be other things too... but in my experience, it's usually the man-made stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a conspiracy.

     For this post's purposes, I have a personal example, a friend's example and a third example that affects more people than you might think in this part of the world.

May in Snyder

   
     Take one look at the picture on the left. Snyder at 72. No big deal. But then look at the high temps for the rest of the week.
     I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count as to what man-made device is NOT working very well at our house.

     You guessed it. Our air conditioning's struggling and not doing a very good job at that!
      Our situation I think is a perfect example of my lead sentence.... Has anyone else noticed there are certain things that are going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible.

     Thank goodness for fans and A LOT of deodorant!

   

Memorial Day Water Leak

         The next example of bad luck, poor timing and a general pain in the fanny situation comes via a friend. We passed by his office today and spotted his truck.
        Our brief text conversation sums up the surprise and unwelcome situation.

Our Text Talk

     This is perfect instance of 'if something completely unexpected and most certainly unwanted' is going to happen somehow it seems to happen at the worst time possible.
     
     Ben and Rod, who are referenced in this text, aren't holiday workers. They pull plenty of long hours more than their fair share days of the year to take off on the holidays.

      And I know everyone included in this water leak fiasco is a family person and at least two or more have incredible appetites for good beef.
     
     So on this holiday, that so many use as a 'family grilling get together' opportunity, this water leak would definitely qualify for the bad timing, rotten luck, really frustrating type of  unexpected and unwanted interruption.

     There is one more example of a bad timing, rotten luck interruption that's not man-made, but affects so many in west Texas.
       It's the call from the sheriff's office that sounds something like the following:

The Dreaded Cow Call

       The phone rings. The caller I-D shows SCSO.
 
       "Hello."
       "Mr. Robertson?"
       "Yes." Of course, anytime anyone calls me Mister or William it's not going to end well.
       "This is Deputy Jones with the Scurry County Sheriff's Office. You have cows out."
       It's not a question. It's a statement.
       "I do? Where? How many?"

      You get the point. The call's completely unexpected and usually at the wrong time. I can't think of a single time that we got that call that it wasn't at the very least inconvenient if not absolutely the worst timing possible.

     Cows are funny. They don't get through a fence Monday through Friday during regular business hours. And when they get out at night, not only are they usually Black Angus cows, they usually escape their pastoral prison with superior bad timing.

      Once, I got the SCSO call while we were hosting a Christmas dinner party for 75 people. I left, got the cow back in the pasture and fixed the fence before dessert.
      Another time, a big red bull got out and dodged capture for about an hour in a driving rain and hail storm.

     So, the question; why are certain things going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible issue crosses the man-made vs. natural line. I suppose we can't do anything about it other than acknowledge the issue with a rhetorical question. Of course, why wouldn't you break or get out at any other time.?

Bill Robertson, Once my water froze when I had a house full of company expecting/hoping for their morning showers.
   

Mother's Day: Flower Power & County Roads

     There are a lot of good things in life, but one of the GREAT things is putting a smile on someone's face. T & I owe a giant debt to our friends Theresa and Rodney Dupree who own and operate The Blossom Bucket in Snyder. For the second year, they asked us to help deliver flowers for Mother's Day.  Mother's Day isn't their Super Bowl, but it's darn close.

Rodney & Theresa Dupree

     Mother's Day of course is on a Sunday. It's always on a Sunday. In a bit, I'll explain the "dumbass charge" I think Rod & Theresa should implement. But first, more about our day(s) of delivering in the "Bucket."

"The Bucket"

     Our delivering began on the Wednesday before Mother's Day. We're veterans so we get assigned the "Bucket," very possibly the roughest riding mode of transportation since the covered wagon. I mean if we hit a pebble, it sounded like a gunshot. If we were in a big city, I'd think someone was trying to 'pop a cap' in us. Still, the "Bucket" is fast and very well air conditioned.
     The way it works is: Customers call or come in to place their orders. We literally walk in and out the back door and very rarely venture beyond the backroom.

Flower Power Team

      The 'middle' room looks like the picture to the right. Theresa and a team of flower artists have a station. They have more knives, scissors and assorted trimming tools than Meredith Grey.
     Rodney generally takes all the orders and somehow the paperwork gets to a station and then VIOLA! Theresa and the flower artists knock out dozens and dozens of arrangements.      We simply walk in, pick 'em up and head off in the "Bucket."
     The turnaround's usually pretty darn quick. We walk in and we walk out with usually four to eight deliveries per trip,,,, depending on where we're going. And where we're going can many times prove very interesting.

Ready for Delivery

     Theresa (Dupree) has a sweet policy. They'll deliver only within the city limits for Valentine's Day, but county wide for Mother's Day. Theresa's reason is simple. Too many moms live in the county and simply can't drive into town to pick up their yellow, purple, red or rose' arrangement. So, we, the deliverers, put some serious mileage on the "Bucket."
      Granted Snyder's a small town and Scurry county's sparsely populated, but.... that doesn't mean we know where we're going all the time.
       If a delivery's in town, Teresa (Robertson) usually knows the people because most times she taught them or their children in the fifth grade. If the delivery's out in the county, that's where Rodney is Mr. Direction. I suspect he's never, ever been lost in Scurry county. If you ever need directions, give him a call. His cell is 555-Not-Lost.

She Love Me

     I think it's safe to say that I see more of Scurry County when we're delivering for The Blossom Bucket than I see at any other time of the year.
      By now, maybe you've seen my Facebook post of my pretty cow. I've decided to call her Gladys.
      We came across Gladys, and I mean really came across Gladys because she wouldn't get out of the driveway, while delivering to a home north of Snyder.... pretty far north.
      Gladys finally moved and gave me this come hither look as we were leaving. You can't really tell from my picture, but Gladys is quite 'with child.' I wonder if Gladys was giving me a 'what about me' kind of look.
      Not all deliveries are a jump out, drop-off and get back in the "Bucket" scenario.

Rodney in the "Bucket"

     Rodney and Theresa can't turn down other business. In this weekend's case, they had all the Mother's Day deliveries and two funerals.
     Funerals come with big arrangements. Usually, we can drop the roses, violas, irises in a styrofoam holder in the back of the van.  But when it comes to the big stuff, that calls for a Plan B & that's when Rodney becomes "Cargo Man."
      In the picture, Rodney is bracing about four large arrangements plus the three or four other arrangements braced on tripods. I'm just glad he chose to ride in the back and didn't ask me to hold everything while he drove.
     The funny thing is, the whole while we were delivering with Rodney holding on for dear life, we were talking politics, the future of Snyder and telling stories. Then, he rode back to the shop in the back. His fanny had to hurt.
      Now to my "dumbass" suggestion.  President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation in 1914 making Mother's Day the second Sunday in May.  My math is bad, but I think that was 104 years ago that Mother's Day has been held on the second Sunday in May. 104 years!!!
      But..... and this is big..... You'd be surprised by the volume of people (not only men,) who wait til the last few hours to buy anything for Mother's Day.
     So, I suggested a "dumbass" fee to Rodney and Theresa. Of course, they'd never do it, but here's how I see it happening.

     It's the Friday afternoon or later before Mother's Day Sunday and a customer walks into The Blossom Bucket or really any other flower shop. The conversation might look like this....

     "Hi! Can we help you?" asks the business owner.
     "Uh... yeah. I need something for Mother's Day."
     "Okay. Great. We can help you. We have this, this and this."
     "Uh, how much are these?"
     "$49.99 and we can deliver them if you'd like."
     "Ok. I'll take them and yes. I'd like them delivered."
     "Great. That'll be $84.99."
     "Uh... ok... I thought you said $49.99. Is it extra for delivery?"
     "I did and no. We charge a $25 dollar dumbass fee."
     "What?"
     "Yeah. This isn't the first Mother's Day. In fact Mother's Day has been around on the same weekend for 104 years."
     "So, you're charging me for waiting til the last minute?"
     "Yes because you're a dumbass."
     "Okay. I'll take 'em. Can I borrow a pen to fill out the card?"

     Theresa and Rodney would never do this. In fact, they let us leave around 6:00 pm on the Saturday before Mother's Day. But I'm pretty sure they fired up the "Bucket" to make some late deliveries. That's how they roll. They know that the flower arrangement is $49.99, but the smile is worth a MILLION DOLLARS.

     Good job. FLOWER POWER!!

Bill Robertson, Just because people say they live in Hermleigh--they really don't.

Graduation, Late Bartenders and an Active Shooter

     We came to Tennessee for my baby boy's college graduation, but first we got freakishly close to an active shooting scenario.

     The easiest way to tell this story is in chronological order, but to address the lead sentence... There was a deadly active shooter situation at the Opry Mills Mall in Nashville, less than half a mile from our accommodations and in the exact location where we were walking less than 28 hours ago.

     Here's how we got to this point. Teresa and I are in Tennessee for my youngest son, Joe's, college graduation from Tennessee Tech University. For the first time in many times to visit, we flew. We had a 5:50am flight out of Lubbock through Dallas Love Field to Nashville.

     We decided to spend the night in Lubbock before our flight. I'm cheap. So we picked the lowest priced full service hotel. Big mistake! Suffice it to say, the lost reservation, the overly cheery check-in lady and then the late bartender were NOT a good start to our expedition to Tennessee.
      Things improved with a great Club Sandwich and perfect onion rings, but when they didn't give us our wake-up call and we found leftover coffee and coffee grounds in our in-room coffee maker the next morning... that pretty much crossed them off our list for any future visits.

     We flew Southwest. I pretty much closed my eyes till we landed in Nashville. But everything was fine. We rented a car. It's a 2019 Jeep Cherokee and for whatever reason it turns itself off at every stop. The car's great, but that turning off to presumably save fuel's gotta go!

     Fast forward to our connection to this shooting at Nashville's Opry Mills Mall. Just yesterday, we had lunch at Chuey's and then took a walk inside the mall while waiting for our room to be ready.
     We walked by the exact location of the shooting. We even pointed out to ourselves the exact stores where the shooting happened.... Old Navy and Annie's Pretzels.

     Okay if you've read this far and want to know more, here are some more precise details and conversations that we experienced within the last couple hours.
     The day began with a short drive from Nashville to Cookeville for lunch with Joe and his longtime girlfriend Sharon. Great visit. Not so good lunch. The lesson is and probably has been for many years is: Don't expect much when your college aged child recommends any place for a meal.

     Our drive back to Nashville was uneventful until our exit. First, there was a road sign saying "Exit 11 North closed at Briley Pkwy." Then, cop car after cop car after cop car. All with their sirens blaring. I didn't know where Exit 11 was but we were headed that way.

     As it just so happened, T wanted to get her toes done. I wanted to stop at the grocery store for supper tonight with Jack back at our accommodations. T got into "Snappy Nails." I parked and walked toward the next door grocery store.

     While I'm smoking outside, as I can't smoke in the car that kills itself at every stop, I notice a young couple pacing outside the store.
     "Sir," I heard a thickly accented man's voice say.
     "Sir."
     I can tell from his accent he's from out of town. The young woman with him isn't saying anything. She's just kind of hanging out behind him.
      "Sir, can I have a cigarette? She's upset."
      "Uh, yeah."
      "Got a light?"
      I gave him my lighter. He fired up while the woman still hung back. His accent was thick but understandable. He was dark skinned with dark hair. She was light skinned but not in an American, freckled kind of way. She also wore a lot of jewelry including a Star of David around her neck.
      "We just ran and got a ride to here."
      "What?"
      "We ran from the shooting at the mall."
      "You were there?"
      "Yes, we left everything. My wallet, my keys, everything."
      "What happened."
      "It was gang related. There were only three shots. It wasn't terrorism. We're from Israel."
      "You know it wasn't terrorism because you're from Israel."
      "Yes, we've had experience with terrorism."
      "You work at the mall?"
      "Yes."
       "Where, at one of the kiosks? What do you sell?"
      "Flat irons."

     I gave the man a couple more cigarettes and went into the store. By this time, the mall shooting's big news inside. Meantime, I can hear the sirens still blaring even through the closed, sliding doors.

      Time passed as I wondered the aisles waiting for T as "Snappy Nail." After that, the trick was (and still is) getting back to our accommodations. At this writing, Exit 11's still closed. The road to our place is blocked by police cruisers. The good news for us was/is, we found a back way to our room. But even getting into our compound, we had to prove our identity to security. In fact, Jack was supposed to come over for supper but due to the chaos we've decided it's better that we re-schedule for another day.

      Although the situation's much calmer now, the hard truth is a 22 year old is dead and another 22 year old is in police custody.

Bill Robertson