Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Is Big Mother

Farmer H sometimes thinks he's pulling a fast one on Mrs. HM. You'd think he would realize by now that I always catch him in his attempted deception. Here's an example that goes back many years.

Farmer H used to bowl in a league every Thursday night. He did this for years, while the boys were growing up, and sometimes took one or the other along with him with the promise of bowling alley food. They didn't go very often, though. So Farmer H was pretty secure that his secrets were safe. Every week, the bowlers wagered money on scores. Every now and then, Farmer H would reveal that he'd won the pot. Never very much, maybe around $20.

What he neglected to mention was that at the end of bowling season, the winning team split a bigger pot. Around $100 apiece. And he especially neglected to mention that his team won the league!

It's not like I would have asked for a cut of the money. That belonged to Farmer H, even though I set out $20 a week for his fees and supper (extra if one of the boys went along). I had no claim to his winnings, but it would have been nice if he didn't try to keep it secret.

It wasn't much of a secret, though, because one of my colleagues was in the same bowling league. He knew that Farmer H's team won, and asked me on Monday how much Farmer H was enjoying his winnings. When I revealed that I didn't even know about it, we agreed that I would sit on that knowledge for a while, and then spring it on Farmer H at a most advantageous moment for myself. The plan worked great, and for 3-4 years, Farmer H would periodically say, "I still can't figure out how you knew about my bowling league prize."

Heh, heh. Even though we played trivia matches with my colleague, and he and Farmer H sometimes discussed the bowling league, neither of us let it slip. FINALLY, out of the blue one day, Farmer H shouted, "NOW I know how you found out about the bowling money! COLLEAGUE!"

I bring this up now, because Tuesday evening, Farmer H went to meet COLLEAGUE (who retired a few years before I did) to pick up something for a class reunion. I was pecking away in my dark basement lair on New Delly, when an email from OnStar popped up about A-Cad's monthly diagnostics report. It does this for T-Hoe, too. I don't know if the date is linked to the billing period, but the report only comes up when you drive the car. Like, we'll get in A-Cad early in the morning to start a trip to Oklahoma, and the report comes to my email before we even get to town. I never get the diagnostics report when the car is sitting in the garage. The report shows tire pressures and oil life and mileage and any problems that need attention.

Well! I guess Farmer H thought he was getting away with driving A-Cad, unbeknownst to me. He knows that once I'm in from town, I rarely go back outside now. It's too hot to walk, and my Posterior Tibial Tendinitis is slowly resolving itself. So I guess he figured he'd drive the ritzy car, and probably put gas in it, saving himself his own weekly cash allowance that is meant for his Trailblazer gas and expenses. A-Cad's gas, though, always goes on the debit card, which takes days to show up in checking. Plus, we were planning a casino excursion for Wednesday, and Farmer H could pretend that he took A-Cad to town for gas to have it ready.

I sent Farmer H a text: "Why are you driving the Acadia?"

I didn't get a response. I wonder how long it will take him to figure out how I knew... I'm always watching him, you know. Even if the eyes aren't my own.