Farmer H and Mrs. Hillbilly Mom are taking a trip this week. A 9-hour drive to Oklahoma to visit The Pony. Who of course doesn't want to come home, and who "doesn't feel like driving long distances" to meet up with us halfway at Downstream Casino. Even though he gets a gambling stake when that happens.
Of course I don't mind driving 9 hours to see my precious Pony. Nor missing a two-night stay at a casino. There's a big casino where The Pony lives! Not IN the casino, of course. But about 10 minutes away if the traffic is good with no highway construction detours. I figure we'll all have an outing there while in town.
Because he's The Pony, he was quite apologetic about his actions denying me two nights at Downstream. Not a big deal. We can go there any time. It's only five hours from us. Also, when asked if there were any treats he'd like me to bring, The Pony demurred. I offered his special Chex Mix, made with Bugles and extra garlic salt and garlic powder. "You know I like it, but I know how long it takes to make. You don't have to."
OF COURSE I'M TAKING CHEX MIX TO MY BABY!
Not only that, but whether he wants it or not, he's getting three 6-packs of soda. The REAL Coke that Farmer H bought me in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness (and usual state of ignorance), the Sprite left over from Christmas dinner, and Mountain Dew Ice that I bought for Farmer H before discovering that it was not diet, but included sugar. Shh...not letting Farmer H know that I had an uncharacteristic moment of ignorance. No siree, Bob!
I might have mentioned (only due to the Truth in Blogging Law) that when Farmer H took The Pony to move into his apartment last summer, he neglected to get him some dishes. Uh huh. Which we found out on our last visit. So The Pony went over six months with no dishes or silverware (and didn't think to mention it), save paper plates and plastic utensils that he bought himself at Target. Anyhoo...we remedied that situation while we were there. I guess I still feel the guilt of Farmer H's oversight. Because when I was in The Devil's Playground last week, I picked up these for The Pony:
I know. It's not much, and they're actually for children...but The Pony is MY CHILD, and I think he might like them. Besides, they were only a dollar-something per pack. Not like it's gonna cut into my scratcher money. Farmer H already put them in the back of A-Cad, so we don't forget to take them.
Soo...I spent the morning (which for me runs until about 1:30 in the afternoon) making The Pony's Chex Mix. It takes 2.5 hours from start to finish. THEN I put it in plastic containers that once held storebought pulled pork, and deli sandwich meats. That's our Hillbilly Tupperware.
You'd think that Even Steven and his buddy Karma could give Mrs. HM a break, wouldn't you? For being so selfless to take time out of her busy retirement schedule to make The Pony's special treat. But no. By the time I left for town, courtesy of Farmer H's arrival home from his Storage Unit Store, it was already going on 2:00. I was hoping to get my 44 oz Diet Coke, some scratchers, and return to have lunch by 3:00. But no. Even Steven and Karma in cahoots put Mrs. HM behind a slow driver before she was a mile from home.
My mom was a slow driver, but even SHE didn't drive 15 mph on our blacktop county road! This was a tiny car, smaller than the KIA hamster cars, in an odd green color like a plate from a 1950s diner. I didn't know if the driver was drunk, on a Sunday drive, looking for a certain address (heh, heh, like houses out here post their address), or just being annoying. I kept my distance, in case of the drunk thing. Three times, that pedal car stopped in the middle of the road!!! Yeah. No signal. No flashers. Just came to a complete stop without warning. Good thing Mrs. HM is not a tailgater. I'd have thought the driver was one of those pranksters who likes to slow down and wait for you to pass and then gun it...except for all the down-the-middle driving. Either drunk or looking at a cell phone, I imagine.
Anyhoo...as if delaying my lunch for another 10 minutes wasn't enough of a karmaic non-reward...as I walked into Country Mart to get myself some scratchers from the machine...I ALMOST FELL FLAT ON MY FACE!
Actually, a fall by Mrs. HM would not be flat. Too much boobage to prevent that. I caught myself, I don't know how, but in that staggery way that you stumble forward, sure you're going down, but recover. I'm so old now that I don't even care about making a fool of myself! I was pleased as punch, happy as a clam, that I did not face-plant on the tile. I stepped right to the ticket machine, because a guy had just walked up to the one on my left, where I'd intended to go. A worker coming in from her break straightened the second of the two rugs from the entry vestibule. Good on her! As she went by, I said, "I almost went down!" Not to to shame her and her employer for having a rug with a flipped up corner. Just to let her know that I knew I'd made a fool of myself with witnesses.
Yes, I was not rewarded by Even Steven and his buddy Karma. But I would still prepare treats for my little Pony. I'm selfless like that.