Fave Dispenses Advice

When I got to town on Saturday, the rain started to fall more heavily than I judged necessary! It had been a mere mist when I left home, yet NOW, when I wanted to walk from my rightful handicap space into the Gas Station Chicken Store, I was going to get wet. I ducked my head and plodded on.

At least I was the only customer inside. Fave was bemoaning the weather.

"I know! I don't mind the gloominess. I kind of like it. But I hate to get wet!"

"You ARE really wet." Said Fave, as she took my winners and swiped them across her ample bosom, covered by her employee apron. "So are your tickets!"

"Well, I'm an old lady. I walk slow. And it's pouring!"

"I'm just so bored. Nobody's coming in. The time goes slower."

I bought my tickets, chatted few minutes, and started for the door, grasping them in my hand as usual.

"I'd put them tickets in my titties!" advised Fave. "So they won't get wet, and you can still scratch them."

"You know, I think I WILL!" I stuffed the tickets under my jacket, shirt, bra strap. "That's a good idea." 

They stayed nice and dry. Can't say the same for the rest of me. But my tickets were fine. In hindsight, there was such a lack of business that I might as well have parked under the roof. No cars were waiting for those gas pumps.

The Lucky Conspiracy

The strange disappearance of our adopted and lost rescue dog, Lucky, grows stranger and stranger. You may recall that we had him for seven days, with several escapes from collar and harness. Yet he still stayed here, looking for Farmer H, and roaming the yard with my little Jack.

The biggest question was how Lucky got his collar UNDONE on the day he disappeared. It was not broken, not chewed. The plastic prongs were somehow squeezed just right to "unbuckle" that collar, which was left attached to the lead which tethered Lucky to a big screw in the ground.

Well. I am currently formulating a new theory, which smacks of CONSPIRACY!

I have been telling Farmer H to call the Animal Control Guy (ACG) and tell him that Lucky got loose, we can't find him, and will take him back if he is captured again. That's just common courtesy, and also a heads-up as to why we will not be providing proof of his shots and neutering. [Still haven't cancelled that vet appointment yet.]

Farmer H finally sent him a text on Monday, one week after the disappearance. ACG asked Farmer H to send a picture, so he could remember which dog. Farmer H did. And got a response.

"Okay. You adopted my friend's dog, Officer Somename. He will be devastated! Don't tell him yet. I hope the dog comes back."

Are your conspiracy juices flowing? Something is not right here!

First of all, why would Officer Somename be devastated to hear that his former dog Lucky is lost? Because it seems to me, somebody who loves a dog so much would NOT HAVE LEFT IT IN THE DOG POUND FOR TWO WEEKS before it got adopted! Especially if his "friend" was the ACG at the dog pound!

Secondly, how would Farmer H know Officer Somename, and his contact info, to tell him that we lost his dog that we adopted? Why did ACG tell Farmer H not to tell Officer Somename about Lucky disappearing?

HOWEVER... if a true friend like ACG was to tell his supposed friend, Officer Somename, that he had just given away his beloved dog that he hadn't told him about for two weeks... then a true friend might "accidentally" leak the name and address of the adopter to his supposed friend, Officer Somename. 

It's possible, right? That Officer Somename could get our address and come looking around for his beloved doggie. That he might not want to just knock on the door and say, "Can I have my dog back?" Because that might be frowned upon, as well as being an embarrassment that he hadn't bothered to look for his dog at the most logical place for two whole weeks.

If Lucky's former owner were to show up, say, on a Monday, when most people are at work, and walk up to Lucky and unsnap his collar... Lucky would go right along with him, not needing a collar or leash, and get in the vehicle, wherever it may be parked, and thus there would be no sign of him along the roads or in a neighbor's yard. AND if that former owner were to declare, "Hey, my dog just showed up again!" then nobody would even question it. He's a police officer, you know.

Something is very fishy here. If Lucky's former owner had come to ask about Lucky, we would have given him back. No money was spent on him, aside from the $31 harness he chewed up in 20 minutes. Of course there's the emotional toll now, of not knowing what happened to Lucky.

I really hope one of these guys DID come and take Lucky. And that he's being loved, and is safe and fed and happy.

This conspiracy theory makes way more sense than Lucky magically opening his collar and vanishing into thin air.

The Weather Is Gettin' Chili

About five weeks into autumn, and the temperatures have finally cooled in Hillmomba. For the past week, we've been dipping into the 40s at night, and only hitting low 60s by day. Right now, it is 49 degrees at 1:00 on Monday. You know what that means: 

TIME FOR A BIG POT OF CHILI!

I watched the forecast, and planned ahead. Picked up my hamburger Saturday in Save A Lot. They have the best meat. I already bought my beans last Thursday, on errand day. This time I used chili beans, blackeyed peas, and Maple Bacon Beans. Plus a can of diced tomatoes with garlic, and two packets of chili seasoning. Then assorted dashes of ketchup, steak sauce, Heinz 57 Sauce, Worcestershire sauce, sweet honey BBQ sauce, and Franks Original Wing Sauce. Once that came to a boil, I turned it down to simmer, and added 2.4 pounds of hamburger that I'd browned with two diced onions.

I gotta say, from what I tasted, it will be DELICIOUS!

I prefer my chili with some crumbled saltines...

...mixed in. So the "juice" isn't so juicy. But I still want the juice. That's the flavor.

Farmer H said he likes TOAST with chili. He might have mentioned this before, but I have never seen him eat toast with chili. Not even when we had the toaster sitting on the counter, all the years when the boys were living here. But I offered to make him toast in the oven, so we'll see how that goes. Also, we're having some sliced Oberle Cheese. 

Which is a soft garlic flavored cheese, made locally, that comes in a long thin roll.

Mmm... I can't wait. I'll try to get a picture if I remember. 

[As you can see, I remembered!]

Gone To The Dogs, I Guess

I swear, The Universe must be in cahoots with snooping internet spyware, and eavesdropping smartphones. I can't blame Alexa, because I won't allow her in the Mansion. You know what I'm talking about. How any little thing you're talking about ends up in ads on your computer or phone. Sometimes things you don't remember saying out loud! 

Anyhoo... of course Farmer H and I have been discussing Lucky since he disappeared last Monday. It seems like every TV commercial since then is about pet sitters or pet foods or pet medicine or just has a dog in the commercial for people products! I'm sure I'm just sensitive to seeing dogs right now, so I notice the presence of canines more.

NOW, The Universe is mocking me! 

When I was in 10Box at the lottery machines, I saw a guy walking a little dog on a leash. INSIDE the store! A cute little dog, light brown, looked like maybe a cross between a dachshund and a chihuahua. He was long, but didn't have the full dachshund ears, and his face was a bit shorter, too.

The guy walked the dog back over to the checkout. I guess his wife was paying. He turned to me and said, "SOMEbody's going to win all the money!"

"I WISH! As long as I win enough to keep playing, it's fine with me. It's my entertainment. I like your little dog. I have a half-dachshund half-heeler. Shaped like a dachshund, but colored like a red heeler."

"Oh, they're something all right!"

Yes, they are. I was hoping he would tell me more about the little dog, but the groceries were paid, and they started out.

I mentioned this to Farmer H.

"This is the second time in about a week that I've seen a DOG inside 10Box! What's up with that? I thought businesses didn't allow dogs inside, unless they were seeing-eye dogs."

"Oh, yeah! Everybody lets them in now. I guess so many people saying they're support dogs."

"I guess they're afraid to ask. In case somebody will say it violates their rights, or they shouldn't have to disclose 'health information.' It just seems odd, people bringing their pets inside."

Who do they think they are, flaunting their pups in Mrs. HM's face???

Don't they know how inconsiderate that is, if another shopper just had a new dog disappear?

Returning A FAVEr

I have been so preoccupied with rescuing and losing our newest dog Lucky (still no sign, sadly) that I have not shared some news from the world of Hillmomba lottery.

You may recall that I have a favorite clerk at the Gas Station Chicken Store. I seem to get more winners from her than from anybody else in any other store. Of course, I DO go there every day, and FAVE works four out of seven of those days when I'm there. Maybe she is just luckier to me because I get the majority of my tickets from her. Still, she is congenial and polite. When I have a good four days, I give her a little something the next time I see her.

Last week, I won $150 there in one day! I had two $50 winners on $5 tickets, and the other tickets added up to another $50. I bought a couple of crossword tickets elswhere, especially to give her. She likes the crosswords. I gave her two of the $5 kind, and two of the $3 kind, in an envelope with her name on it. I don't want her to get in trouble, you know. I didn't buy the tickets there, and a sealed envelope is her private property that nobody should be opening.

Anyhoo... whenever I do this, I go by my own unwritten rule. If I'm buying a crossword for FAVE, it's always the second ticket I buy. For example, if I'm getting myself a crossword or two at Casey's, or out of a machine, the second crossword is designated for FAVE. I set it aside from mine. That way I don't debate on which number of the ticket I would rather play, or which one "feels" luckier to me. Nope. The second one is for FAVE. I feel especially guilty if my adjacent ticket wins something, because then I think FAVE has less of a chance to win. But that's my rule. The second is for FAVE.

I gave her the envelope on Thursday. When I stopped for my tickets on Friday, FAVE said, "I couldn't wait to tell you! I won $100 on one of my crosswords. I even showed my grandma! It came at just the right time, too! I was out of money!"

That was great news for me. I was not a bit jealous that FAVE had a good winner. That's what I hope for when I give people tickets. She was meant to win it, not me. Second-ticket rule!

The next day, I got a $100 winner. Not on a crossword, and not from FAVE. It was a new $5 Christmas ticket out of the machine at Save A Lot. I figure it was karma and Even Steven in cahoots. What goes around comes around...

Perhaps Reading NUMBERS Is The Only Requirement

My head is buzzing with all the bees in my bonnet lately! Now The Universe has turned the bank against me!

Every week, on errand day, I go through the bank drive-thru to get our weekly cash allowance. I sent in my withdrawal slip that I have a hoard of, taken right from the counter at the bank, when I had to walk inside. Or sometimes when the teller asks if there's anything else, I ask her to send out a few withdrawal slips in the tube canister. So I KNOW the withdrawal slip is nothing foreign to the bank workers.

Every week, I ask for the same amount, in the same denominations. I only get $100s and $20s. Farmer H and I use our weekly money however we wish. Of course mine goes mainly to lottery tickets and gas for T-Hoe, and his for gas and playing those fake slot machines, or auction treasures. The rest of the cash I set aside in one of our safes, in specific envelopes marked for Christmas, insurance, taxes, and miscellaneous. That way we never have a big expense come up that requires taking money from other accounts. It has already been set aside. Like a Christmas Club account, but available when we need it. What Farmer H doesn't see in the balance, he can't go off and spend, thinking we are rolling in dough.

Anyhoo... I always write on the withdrawal slip the bills I want for my cash. It saves the teller from having to ask, or make the decision herself. I have very legible writing. Printing in block letters. I get compliments all the time on my inkpenmanship. I write the requested bills directly above the withdrawal amount, and follow it with, "Please." Then I CIRCLE IT. You'd have to be blind or an idiot to miss it. Or perhaps a psychopath to deliberately ignore it.

Thursday, there was one other car already at the drive-thru. I sent in my canister. The gal said she would be with me in a minute. The other car finished and drove off. I was talking to The Pony, who was riding shotgun. It seemed to be taking a while. Another car pulled in at the lane where the first car had left. Then it also left. We were talking, but I was still conscious of the time it was taking.

Finally the teller came back and said to have a good day, and sent out the canister with my cash. I opened up the envelope to retrieve my driver's license. It seemed a bit thin compared to usual envelope. I looked at the bills, and 

THEY WERE ALL $50s!

I HATE $50s! They're not enough if you're making big purchases like some of Farmer H's business deals, and too much if you want to buy lottery tickets out of a machine.

No way did I want to sit there longer, and send the bills back in, and hope to get what I wanted. Even without a schedule, there's only so much car-sitting Mrs. HM is willing to do on errand day. I made sure to complain, though, to The Pony.

"This is NOT what I asked for! I had it clearly written on the withdrawal slip. How can they not see that? It's the same every week. Now I'm stuck with these dang fifties! I HATE fifties! Maybe Dad will be able to change them out with his business money. Or I can do it with the saved money at home. But that's AT HOME. I was wanting to buy tickets out of the machine in Country Mart. And all I have is this $100 winner from yesterday. I'm not scanning that into the machine."

"Can you cash it in at Casey's when you get gas?"

"No. They always mess it up. It's something about that store. They can't seem to understand how to take payment for gas out of a scratcher winner. I've tried it twice before, and it takes forever to get a manager to come fix whatever they do. And I'm not going to hold up the line, doing two transactions."

"Oh! I have some of my casino cash with me. I might have some twenties. But they're mostly hundreds."

"That's fine! See what you have. I'd rather have hundreds than fifties, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind! I can use fifties at the casino next time we go."

The Pony came to my rescue with five twenties, and enough hundreds to cover my fifties. I hope I don't get that same teller next Thursday. If I get fifties again, I'm going to complain! Have your calendars ready... 

A Needed Distraction

It's Thursday, and still no sight or news of our adopted dog Lucky. Jack has been barking his fool head off for 2.5 hours, looking towards the neighbors' house where Copper Jack used to come through the fence. There has been no sound of any other dog barking. Those neighbors have a little inside dog, too, but have not replaced Copper Jack since he had to be put down due to cancer. Jack also came up on the back porch, and barked down into the corner of the woods by that neighbor's house. Odd that it's the only direction he faces, while barking at nothing. 

Thank the Gummi Mary, Farmer H is still around to distract me from my moping. He carried in some old groceries Tuesday evening. A box of trash bags, and two kinds of paper plates. He actually put them away. Sort of. 

He got the box of trash bags right. Set them on the floor beside the wastebasket, in the recess under the counter where a dishwasher would go if I had one...

Farmer H put his "good" paper plates under the few remaining "good" paper plates on the counter. Then things went awry.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, shocked at his disbursement of those three items. All I'd asked was for him to bring them inside. Farmer H took the plain paper plates, that I use for things like chopping onions so as not to dirty my cutting board. I keep a few in the wooden paper plate holder emblazoned with "Everyday China." The rest are in a cabinet to the left of the sink.

I saw Farmer H trying to sneak the sealed package of plain paper plates into the cabinet. I had ASSUMED he was going to rip open the package and stack them. He even asked where they went. Despite my succinct directions, he opened three different cabinets. That man cain't understand nothin'! Finally, he opened the right one, and saw the stack of plates there.

"WAIT! What are you doing?"

"Puttin' this pack of plates up."

"Not like THAT! Why would I want a PACKAGE of plates in the cabinet? Take off the plastic and stack them on the others. When I need plates, I want to just reach up and grab some, not stop what I'm doing to unwrap them!"

I swear. Farmer H does these things on purpose, to get out of doing them in the future.