Hot summers and humidity

The story of the skirt relates to the time I was working in a bank.  My female co-workers just nodded their head when I answered "Madame T" after having been asked my name.  I did not know that French Canadians, at that time, addressed each other by their given name, used 'tu' on the first meeting and expected to hear me say "Ellena".    Bad start, I was considered to be the arrogant newcomer from Europe.       
I gave the girls an occasion to get back at me when I told them that I want my circle skirt to stand out in a circle as wide as their skirts and asked what to do about it short of inserting whatever it was they inserted into the hem of the underskirt.  Their kind advice was  "wash, rinse in sugar water and dry in sun". Smart- me did so.                                                   
The little branch of big TD bank was not air-conditioned then.  Do I need to explain what happened on the day where heat and humidity climbed extremely high?  Sitting in place all afternoon was a very sweaty/sticky situation.

Soon after and shortly prior to leaving the bank, I realized that I had become a trusted and in their eyes experienced friend.  One of the girls was getting married and asked me specific questions concerning the night of the wedding, another girl came back from their honeymoon and shared with me that her husband asked her to do such and such and did I think it was OK.  A young man walked me home after work, talking about Elvis P. whom I had hardly heard about, to then casually pose questions concerning abortion.  I was not much help to any of them being very uncomfortable talking about personal matters but, I was pleased that I had made friends that trusted me.  

 Today is the first time that I notice the man sleeping on the bench but Pasha always makes me smile the way she moves proudly down the catwalk with purse on arm.

(Shaking my head in disbelief that I bought a purse for her). 

 

???

This is for whomever had not seen it 2 years ago and especially a riposte to RR's comment on my last post.

          The cologne
          Splashed over his face and neck
          In the morning
          Well fitting suit with buttons of same cloth
          Tie in place
          Well heeled

          Nothing could cover the smell of
          Anxiety and depression

          His hands very soft
          His eyes piercing
          Blue ring circling brown iris

          What were his thoughts
          On his 7 km daily long walks
          From the small hamlet
          To the nearby town

          Umbrella in hand in case...
          "skata spiri" (shitty pimpleface) when unhappy with me
         
          I do not know my father

Take away the chain and add umbrella is 100% him even the face.

A ray of sunshine

Yesterday was my what I call 'biblio day'.

We are three female volunteers guided by Goldie Locks, our librarian.

Since the library is closed to the public when our gang is at work, I was surprised to see a nun standing at the counter talking with Goldie Locks.  No idea who heard the knock on the glass of the door and who was allowed to let her in and less of an idea as to the content of the conversation that I observed since I can't find any time to get my hearing checked.  I am only 7 steps away from the counter and and all else that is happening around me is also very close it being a small library but, when I work I usually concentrate on what I am doing and it being the monk's job that was assigned to me, I was minding my business, did not notice that the nun was gone nor ask why she had come in.                     Then, as the lawn mover started his usual Thursday-moan, and as I lifted the blinds away from the window to sneak a look outside to see how far lawn manicure had advanced it is this that came into my view and made me grab my camera. 

A ray of sunshine that will last me till next biblio day.

picture taken through window in front door

Nuns bring good memories back to me.