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| My Apple genius granddaughter |
As you may
remember, I did a face plant on the bathroom floor at two a.m. three weeks ago.
Glad to report my bruises are almost gone. But when I fell, my Apple watch did
not call Colin or Jordan as it is programmed to do. That was the main reason
Colin gave me the watch. So we’ve been wondering and worrying and planning to
go to the Apple Store whenever Colin comes up here or I go to Tomball.
But today I had an
inspiration. My oldest granddaughter is a student at Colorado University and
works part time behind a genius bar at an Apple Store in Boulder. I sent her a
long email, detailing my woes, and then spent the afternoon texting with her as
she walked me through checking various settings. I had to apologize for my denseness,
but she was sweet and patient—gave me clear instructions where to find various
settings. Finally, she suggested that old remedy—turn it off and let it
re-start. Then Jordan called me as a test—and voila! It worked! I can answer
calls on my watch, and should I fall again it should notify Colin and Jordan.
When Colin gave me
the phone, he said, “Now if you’d just fall on the floor, we can trust that it
works.” I declined, and I decline to test it again, but I feel reassured—not
that I plan to fall again!
Different kind of
evening tonight—it was Central Market’s 25th anniversary celebration.
Mary had two tickets and her husband was not interested, so she and I wandered the
market while he sat in the café and read. I don’t get inside Central Market
often anymore because I used their curbside pickup service, but it was fun to go
up one aisle and down another, spotting several items I forgot about but will
now remember for my next order—the pimiento cheese I like, chicken sausage with
spinach.
The celebration
consisted of different food stations and involved a lot of waiting in slow lines,
but I got one of their motorized carts and waited in comfort, looking around at
people and groceries all the while. At each station, the serving was small, but
I still felt like I’d eaten when we got through. We had a good green salad with
crisp apples, cheddar, and a vinaigrette—delicious; a bite of strip steak with
micro greens—steak was good, greens had no dressing so weren’t appealing; crab
bites (I was afraid they had shrimp and didn’t try, though I can eat crab and
love it), sushi, chocolate with a bite of orange, crisp toast with citrus and
yogurt, ice cream with Balsamic vinegar drizzle, bread and butter, Parmesan
with a pear/Balsamic drizzle. We skipped the salmon bite and the station with
jalapeno bites and margaritas.
I did just a bit
of grocery shopping, and Mary was patient about fetching items I needed—avocados
on sale, a special cheddar that has Roquefort embedded in it, chips and Jordan’s
favorite dip.
Mary, Joe and I
went to dinner afterward at an Italian place where they had pizza and I couldn’t
even finish my Caesar salad. Good visit, good times.
Another of those
evenings when I was struck by how good people are to the handicapped. One group
at Central Market urged me to get in line ahead of them. I thanked them profusely
and explained I was waiting for someone; a woman stayed behind to open the restroom
door for me—the kind of door I often struggle with. She saw me out with a
cheerful, “You have a good one.” Such incidents reinforce my faith that most
people are good. Got to remember that in these trying days.
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