We May Lose And We May Win, But We Will Never Be Here Again

What does a loving family do with their last son when they only have precious hours left before he walks into his college dorm and out of their lives forever?

TAKE HIM TO THE CASINO!

Don't act surprised! It's the Hillbilly family, after all. We got up and ate the free breakfast at our Holiday Inn Express. No Ambiened middle-aged lady in a slip and no undies this time. The eggs were still cold. I took my own packet of instant oatmeal (Great Value brand) because the Quaker brand offered on the breakfast bar was too bland last time. AND The Pony pointed out a shaker of cinnamon. So at least that part was good. The Pony reported that the gravy was too strong. ? Not sure what he meant by that, but he only ate one half of his biscuit and gravy.

THEN the waft of perfume overdose hit us. I swear I almost choked on the miasma. Farmer H tried to act like it was nothing. He does that, you know. I used to call him Mr. Opposite. Now I have a more descriptive name for him. Anyway...he said, "It's probably just that old lady." AS IF! Like once you reach a certain age, you are allowed to smell however you want, and inflict your odor on the entire populace. Good thing we were almost finished.

We headed to The Pony's credit union. When he came down for enrollment with Farmer H, they opened an account. Of course they both promptly forgot their usernames. AND passwords. Let the record show that I was not happy to hear that it took them an hour to set up the account initially. Since I had to go in and get added to that account so I can deposit money for him. Let the record further show that it took 48 minutes to add me to that account, and update their passwords. Somebody needs to streamline their account process!

By now it was 10:00, and The Pony had a move-in appointment of 1:00-2:00. We didn't want to hang around the hotel. So we went to a grocery store to buy The Pony some nail clippers and a tire gauge. Classy parting gifts, don't you think? Perhaps we should have presented him with those items at graduation. Still with time to kill, we headed to the casino. It's only 15 minutes away.

We only got to spend 45 minutes there. I gave The Pony and Farmer H each $60. Which they both managed to lose in that short time. I, on the other hand, left with a deficit of a mere $15. Probably because my slotting was slowed by texts from the #1 son. He informed me that he won $5 on one of his scratch off tickets I sent him, and asked if we arrived safely, and if The Pony had moved in yet. He was incensed to hear that The Pony was gambling! Never mind that I had taken #1 gambling on the Christmas vacation when he turned 21. Last year.

Farmer H and The Pony braved the move-in crowds, and he left The Pony at the dorm. The plan had been for The Pony to drive Farmer H back so he could keep his car, but he had to run off to a social event (I know, that's SHOCKING), so we'll get his car back to him on Friday.

Farmer H and I went to eat at Golden Corral, which was much better than the exorbitantly priced, drunken loudfest of the steak house we went to in June. THEN we had another excursion to the casino, where Farmer H endowed with a new gambling stake reported that he broke even, but was forced to admit, upon further interrogation, that he had NOT made up this morning's money, so was still $60 in the hole. AND THEN he declared that it was OUR money. Au contraire, Mon Farmer! It is MY money from cashed-in scratch off winners. The money which I use for further gaming, and chose so generously to share with him and The Pony. It's not like I said, "Oh, we'll go to the casino. I'll get some money out of the cash machine." Nope. Farmer H needs to be more beholden to Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.

I DID let #1 know that he's the winner in the midst of a family of losers, with his +5 dollars on the day being the high-water mark to which we all aspire.