They're gonna get me one way or the other. Either Farmer H, whom I'm pretty sure is trying to kill me in a variety of ways on a regular basis, or The Pony, whose vehicle of my demise will be unintended, offbeat, and untraceable.
When Farmer H returned with the Milk Chocolate cake mix, and the usable Fudge cake mix, he couldn't wait 10 seconds for me to gather up my sore knees under the kitchen table. I had just collapsed on the chair, after holding onto the kitchen counter, and was waiting for them to unstiffen from all the standing, so I could swing around to put my feet under the table. But no. Farmer H had to charge through like an entitled bull playing chicken with the proprietor of a china shop!
As he rushed past me, Farmer H kicked the toe of my right CROC, twisting my knee, and sending himself hurtling into the kitchen wall about three feet away. Then HE acted like the one who should be upset! Sweet Gummi Mary! He barely stumbled, and caught himself with outstretched arms on the wall. I've seen athletes doing wall push-ups with more vigor. If you can't pick up your feet and step over, or thread your steps through the non-CROC-occupied 18 inches of walkway, then WAIT UNTIL THAT WALKWAY IS CLEAR!
The cook's feet have right-of-way, and were there first!
A few tears and a few harsh words from Farmer H later, my 32nd wedding anniversary continued, with me deviling a dozen eggs, and Farmer H turning so forgiving that he sat down across the table from me and sampled three of them. Three half-eggs. Not three full eggs. I am not that forgiving.
Anyhoo... I finished pre-preparing my Wednesday dishes. Thanksgiving prep went smoothly enough. And I gotta say, EVERYTHING WAS DELICIOUS! Even though I made my food the same way as always, it turned out particularly tasty this year. MMMMMM.
We all filled our plates and sat down to feast. Farmer H went first, and said he was TRYING to wait until everyone was at the table before he started feeding. If he was smart, he would have let ME go first. Because I don't inhale my meal like the other two.
Of course Farmer H finished. Then The Pony. Who went to get dessert, which was NOT his very special Oreo Cake that he had requested, but rather the frozen sampler of cheesecake slices that I picked up at Country Mart, because Farmer H likes cheesecake. Then Farmer H had a slice. I continued to work on my plate of savory dishes.
I might need to check Farmer H and The Pony for fever. Farmer H actually sat at the table ALMOST until I was finished eating. He did not run out of the Mansion to go somewhere. And wait till you hear this...
THE PONY STARTED PUTTING AWAY FOOD!
That's right! The Pony put the lids back on containers, and found room in FRIG II to stash them. He seemed to care about helping people not get food poisoning! He set all the dishes from himself and Farmer H over by the sink where I could wash them. Such a thoughtful act!
We need to start calling him Mr. MoneyPony. He got his fake check stub in the mail, even though he can access it online. He's been NETTING in two weeks, more than I gross in a month of my teacher retirement. Extrapolating that data, over a year's time, The Pony would be clearing more than my 28-years-experience with a Master's Degree gross teacher salary for the last year I worked.
The Pony relaxed in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom for two hours on Wednesday night with his wine. But he was a teetotaler on Thursday at Thanksgiving dinner.
"I'm only having Sprite today. I have to be at work at 6:00 Friday morning, and I expect a lot of people to call out. So it might be 7:30 or later when I get home."
The Pony binge-drinks responsibly! And cares about preventing food poisoning.
Way to go Pony!! You just reminded me of what else I wanted to thank Pony for and to apologize for as our mail person is probably really more than a little perturbed with us. My dad uses our address for his mailing address, as he is in assisted living and does not feel confident that he would receive all of his mail there. We both donate to various places of our choice and as a result, you get requests from your regular donation site, along with any other affiliated locations that heard that you are a soft touch for free money, or something like that. Well, with my dads mail and our mail, it often (a lot) of times gets doubled up. I just went through 6 months of filing (tossed into a basket for the secretary to get to - which is me and I hate filing) and between the 2 of us, we have received 23 "gifted" calendars so far. That, on top of all of the junk mail - well, I'm just saying that I'm sorry and I truly feel bad for the mail people, even more this time of year. Pony is a trooper and I hope he stays safe and becomes a millionaire in his own right. Go Pony!! Ranee (MN)
ReplyDeleteSounds like The Pony is growing up, being all responsible like that. I am astonished at Farmer H though, sitting at the table all that time.
ReplyDeleteWhen you are doing a lot of standing, could you lift each foot in turn a couple of times just high enough so the knee bends a little? That might help with flexibility and maybe less stiffness when you go to sit down. Then before you stand up raise each foot in turn as if straightening the leg. To ease the stiffness.
Yes. That means he can host Thanksgiving next year. He's already proving he can be a responsible host, with adequate concern for the health of his guests.
ReplyDeleteRae,
ReplyDeleteThat's a lot of calendars! You surely won't miss any appointments...
I've started leaving all my junk mail catalogs stacked on the passenger seat of T-Hoe until they threaten to slide over during a sharp turn. Then I take a trash bag and put them in the dumpster. It eliminates the step of carrying them in the Mansion to throw away.
The Pony's salary is paid from the proceeds of that junk mail! So he should be making millionaire before I become a Pennyillionaire.
***
River,
It's hard to say which one surprised me more: the clean-up Pony or the sitting Farmer.
I don't think the standing foot lift would help much, because I might fall over! I DO lean on something, and pull alternate legs up closer with a bent knee. AND I do stretch out my knees from the sitting position before standing.
***
Sioux,
Maybe The Pony won't have time to prepare a full meal. He'll probably have to work until 8:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving Eve. So we might just get wine and soft cheeses and tasteless whole-grain crackers. Maybe a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie for dessert.
No, you have that wrong. Those brownies come two to a pack. There's a line scored on them to show how they're divided. Either The Pony goes all out and gives everybody TWO servings of dessert, or he's cheap and each guest gets only one (and perhaps he eats the extra later, after the guests have left).
ReplyDeleteHe could begin with hard cheeses, and take them into the shower (in bags) since I imagine he won't have a triangle tub at his new place. That way, he could soften them up.
Actually, he could do lots of the prep work in the shower. Cleaning the veggies, etc. while he showers. Living green has its advantages...
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteI think the giant box of Cosmic Brownies might have them unscored. I'm pretty sure I noticed this one time, wondering why all Cosmic Brownies were not the same. Or it might be the regular box. That would be a good investigation, if only I could catch both kinds of brownie before they were all eaten.
I hope Farmer H doesn't install a low-flow shower head in The Pony's shower! It might interfere with his food prep!
The Pony most certainly WILL have a triangle tub in Pony House! It's already bought and set in place! Not quite as triangle-y as ours, but more than oval. It can be admired in pictures of Pony House Master Bathroom on my other blog.
"Thankful am I for compliments given, more thankful I'd be for help in the kitchen" My new kitchen it very tiny, requirig no steps to get to anything other than the fridge that sits adjacent in the hall to the bedroom. It will work fine, as I am not used to help!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteThat's good, because I can't be sending The Pony to help you! He's a little busy at the moment.