Driving to work yesterday morning, I planned the day's obligations in my head.
First, there would be a quick stop by the community garden, then a run to the bakery, then work, then Margarita night, then to the high school to watch Granddaughter #2 perform in the band's "sneak preview" of this year's half-time show. About the last thing The Husband said as I headed out the door was, "Don't forget the band blowout tonight at 7:30."
The band blowout was already on my to-do list. It had originally been scheduled for the 26th, but I'd seen a Facebook update that said the 19th. Evidently, The Husband had seen that same update.
I was in the garden by 6:45. A few of the purple grape tomatoes were *almost* perfectly ripe, so I picked them (they were "grocery-store ripe"), weighed them, and put them in the food pantry pickup box. The garden soil was very dry, so I dragged the water hose to our plot and turned it on. When I pushed the lever on the sprayer nozzle, water spewed from the connection in all directions, soaking my sandals and the front of my shorts. I gave the plot a thorough watering, put everything back where it belonged, and headed for the bakery.
We've been buying bread from this local bakery ever since we noticed that our store-bought bread NEVER MOLDS. (WTF? What are they putting in it?) The baker is a good dude and makes wonderful stuff. Picked up a loaf of honey cranberry bread, a sausage-egg-cheese scone for breakfast/lunch, and a chocolate-filled croissant. We'd bought a chocolate-filled croissant a couple of weeks ago, and it had been filled with fluffy light chocolate. I could see a bit of dark chocolate peeking out of yesterday's batch, but that was ok; I like dark (any!) chocolate. I intended to bring the croissant home to share with The Husband, as I'd done with the previous one.
The first hour at work was quiet, as usual, but come 8:00, activity picked up at an unusual pace. One of the officers explained that several new recruits were starting that day. They'd be welcomed and briefed in the training room behind the kitchen where I was working, then they'd be taken to the real training facility, where they'd be put through the wringer. ("You ought to come watch," he said. "It will be funny.") Soon, the H.R. folks came through, followed by several spit-polished recruits, and then the sheriff, himself. Meanwhile, I learned that the Juvenile office would be having a meeting in that same training room, starting at 11:00. It didn't matter to me who did what in the training room, so I kept working.
At a little before 10, dude came in, carrying some pans to go into the oven, and before he left, he indicated that his group would be needing the kitchen for a working lunch. They "usually" set up the food on the counter and eat at the table, he said, with a meaningful glance at my paper-strewn table.
I'd just finished alphabetizing the Bs; they were in neat stacks on the table - Ba - Be -Bi - ready to go into folders. Folders, pens, and labels were laid out on the counter. I asked when the meeting would be over. 1:00, he says.
Not wanting to lose 2 hours of work time (I'd set a specific goal for the day), I was irked, and worked a compromise with him. I'd clear off the table and counter long enough to let them prepare the meal, but they could set it up for serving (and eating) in the training room. He agreed, and when he came back a little before 11 to prepare the food for the meeting, I went to Home Depot to get landscape fabric pins for the weekend gardening chores I was planning. They were pretty much finished preparing the lunch set-up by the time I got back, so I commenced the Cs.
I don't usually eat lunch, but what they were serving smelled delicious, and my tummy began to rumble. But, hey, I had that chocolate-filled croissant, didn't I? I hadn't yet promised half of it to The Husband, so I unwrapped it and bit into it, expecting fluffy filling, like the other one I'd had. But the filling was more like thick ganache. It was perfectly tubular, as if it had been extruded from a pastry tip, and its dark chocolate color made me think of a dog turd, but that didn't keep me from eating the whole thing while I worked on the Cs.
My workroom was busy with comings and goings all afternoon. As soon as the meeting broke up at 1:00, the recruits came in with their shirt-tails and tongues hanging out. They were hungry and tired, and jumped at the offer of the food left over from the earlier meeting. As they were lined up to serve themselves, I heard one of them say to another, "Do you think we should eat this? It could be another trick!" They must've had a rough morning.
By 3:00, I'd met my alphabetizing goal, so I packed up and came home. The plan was for The Husband to come home a little early so that we could eat dinner (and get that margarita!) a little early and make it to the band blowout on time. We met up with The Sister- and Brother-in-Law a little before 6, had dinner, and left for the high school at 7, hoping we weren't too late to find a parking place.
The school parking lot and stadium were EMPTY. Ordinarily, 30 minutes before the event, the place would be packed - this band is well-supported by the community - but NOBODY was there.
I whipped out my phone and pulled up the band's FB page. The announcement said the blowout would be on the 26th. The post that had stated the 19th was GONE, with no explanation, so we headed for home, thinking, Damn we could've had another margarita. ;)
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