The Elusive Shasta

When I was recovering from my Unfortunate HospitVALzation, I lost my tast for Diet Coke. The fountain 44 oz and otherwise. I was mixing Farmer H's Wild Turkey with Shasta Diet Cola. I had bought a 12 pack of it just before I got sick, for that very purpose. When it all didn't fit into his red Solo cup, I took a sip out of the can. IT IS DELICIOUS!

I have been craving Shasta Diet Cola. The original 12 pack is long gone. I bought some Best Choice Diet Cola when I was in Country Mart on one of my first trips to town after the sickness. I figured it would be about the same. IT IS NOT! There are two cans left, from the 24 I bought. So I've been on a quest for Shasta Diet Cola. I want about half a can with supper.

Of course I could not remember where I got it. I mistakenly thought Country Mart. But all I saw there last week was Best Choice. I didn't get any. 

On Wednesday, I went to Save A Lot. Shasta was on my list. I went up the aisle and found it. Of course it was hard to get into my cart. It's in big square boxes of 12, instead of the long rectangular boxes of 12 like most sodas. AND it was on the top shelf. Two boxes to a cardboard flat. Hard to get loose, up over my head. I had to move one flat over to get a grip, so I could poke out the flat part that leaves you a little handle. But I did it! I got two boxes.

I carried one box in the Mansion. After putting away my groceries, I went to get a can to put in FRIG II to chill for supper.

IT WAS SHASTA ROOT BEER!

I bought the wrong kind! To be fair, all the boxes have the same design. White, with a slight color variation in the pattern. And Root Beer must look amazingly similar to Diet Cola! I guess when I moved that top shelf flat around, I got into the Root Beer that was next to the Diet Cola.

I told Farmer H. He was planning a trip to the Devil's Playground anyway. I called and said to look for the Shasta Diet Cola. 

"Okay. In case they don't, you say Country Mart has it?"

"No. Save A Lot has it."

"Okay. I'm writing it down."

I got a text later.

"Country Mart is faxing out Shasta and going to best choice thats why you didn't find it or thats what the girl stocking shelves told me"

"I told you it's at SAVE A LOT! You never listen. You even said you wrote it down."

"I wrote down SHASTA."

Anyhoo... Farmer H was no more successful than I in procuring my new cheap elixir. So it's kind of hard to complain. But you know I will...

A GOOD Example Of Customer Service

Tuesday, I bought gas for T-Hoe, and some lottery tickets at the Sis-Town Casey's. I had a friendly cashier, who rang up my purchases just right. Quick and efficient. I forked over my money, thanked her, wished her a nice day as well, and headed back to T-Hoe to pump my $20 of gas that would fill 1/4 of his tank.

 

I was in the middle of the parking lot, halfway to T-Hoe, when I heard:

 

"MA'AM? MA'AM"

 

I turned around. Am I a MA'AM? I suppose so. It was my cashier, running after me.

 

"I'm so sorry! I forgot to hand you your PowerBall ticket!"

 

"Oh! I forgot I bought it! I only buy them when the Jackpot is high. Thank you so much for bringing it to me!"

Now THAT is customer service! She made a little mistake, and ran after me to make it right.

Wouldn't it be funny if that ticket wins something? Heh, heh. I never win anything on PowerBall. Not even $2. But the Jackpot for Wednesday night is $202 million. 

 

Can't win if you don't buy a ticket! Or if you leave it on the edge of the cash register...

A Picture You Don't Want To See

The Pony continues to take pictures along his route. I am deliberately not showing you the one we will be discussing today. In fact, I didn't even ask The Pony to send it to me. In fact, The Pony prefaced the reveal with the disclaimer, "I don't think you want to look at this pictures, but remember when I talked about..."

 

Now is your chance to look away. To click the BACK arrow. To put your cursor over the X, and close this tab before it's too late! I am about to move forward with the tale.

 

Here goes...

 

"Remember a couple weeks ago, when I was telling Dad about a yard I see when I do the Backroads route? The yard that apparently has a septic tank problem. It has a pipe coming up out of the ground, and other stuff comes out too. I told Dad that there's even TOILET PAPER scattered across the ground sometimes. Well... here's what I saw a couple days ago when I did that route again."

 

"WAIT! I don't want to see it! Just tell me, I guess."

 

"It was CORN!"

 

"Oh, yuck! I'm glad I didn't look!"

 

"Yeah. It was pretty bad."

 

"Yet you took a picture of it!!! I guess it's like they say about beer: you don't really BUY IT, you just RENT IT. And like Mr. S used to say at the lunch table every time we had corn: 'You don't really EAT CORN, you just RECYCLE IT.'"

 

"Yeah. I guess so."

 

There. Aren't you sorry you read to the end? 

 

But aren't you happy I didn't show the picture?

The Street With A Thirst For Carnage

On Saturday, I was over in Sis-Town to mail my first letter to Genius since I returned home from my Unfortunate HospitVALzation. I haven't been down to use New Delly in my dark basement lair. I was down there to print a copy of our tax return a few days ago, but the giant industrial printer Genius gave us, from a deal he got through the university when he was in college, ran out of ink in the yellow cartridge. That means it won't print! Not even on grayscale, with plenty of ink remaining in the blue, black, and magenta cartridges.

Anyhoo... I had handwritten a letter, and of course enclosed some scratchers. I also went to get a bit of gas for T-Hoe at the Sis-Town Casey's. I took the back way towards home. In involves the street where The Pony broke his ankle two months into his CCA (City Carrier Assistant) career with the USPS. On the right side of the street, in the block where the houses and the sidewalks end.

Anyhoo... I was tooling along in T-Hoe, noting the scene of The Pony's accident, listening to 70s classics on the radio. There's a soccer park along that street, on the left. I was going up a slight hill, approaching a sharp curve to the right. A woman and three little boys had just come around the curve. They were on the left, the soccer fields side. No interest to me. They were well out of my way. The boys were all the same size. Maybe 4 years old. The one in the lead had a little scooter. The kind that looks like a skateboard with a handle. He was pushing it along beside him, not riding it.

Something told me to KEEP AN EYE ON THOSE KIDS. Nothing out loud. Just a hunch. BE WARY. I can't explain it. I've had that kind of feeling before, late at night on the highway, where I always made a right turn onto a side road. I'd get over on the shoulder so as not to slow down traffic as I approached my turn. That one night, something told me not to do that. And when I got close enough to turn, I saw a car parked on the shoulder just before my turn-off. I would have slammed into the back of it by the time my lights illuminated it, and I realized it was there.

Anyhoo... I was only going about 20 miles per hour down this street, because I'd been looking at where The Pony broke his ankle. I kept my eye on those boys. My nerves were humming.

WHOOPSIE! 

 

The boy lost his hold on the scooter! The scooter rolled along, picking up speed, and veered into my lane! It was headed straight for T-Hoe! I put on the brakes. Came to a complete stop, and waited for the impact. A little scooter wouldn't hurt T-Hoe.

The little boy started running after the scooter! The lady hollered at him to STOP, panic on her face as she chased after him. The boy turned and ran back to his side of the road, but the lady kept running and caught the scooter before it hit T-Hoe. She pushed it back to the boys, who were standing still on the side of the road, the scooter boy crying. The lady pushed the scooter back, and briefly scolded the crier for running into the road. She held onto the scooter. They continued down the hill. I moved T-Hoe forward again. I smiled and waved at the lady.

You can never be too careful around little kids near a street.

It's Almost As If Someone Is Trying To Send A Message

Yet AGAIN, I awakened in the early morning hours to see that on the TV screen was a symbol I hold dear: The LADYBUG!

 

Friday night, I had been watching Man v. Food when I fell asleep shortly after 1:00 a.m. But when I woke up, the show had changed to The Big Bake. I think it was an old episode, since I was watching on the Cooking Channel, which shows reruns of most cooking shows that start on the Food Network.

 

Anyhoo... I grabbed my phone and tried to get a picture of the giant cake, which was a girl in a raincoat with a LADYBUG umbrella, and small ladybugs on the ground, which were cupcakes for the judges to eat.

That's the best picture I could get of the whole giant cake.

 

It was the umbrella that first caught my eye.

 

Then I saw those cute, cute ladybug cupcakes.

 

The judges got a taste, but I don't remember the flavors. They loved it, though. 

 

Don't mind our old VCR, and the bases of the boys' bowling trophies on top of the TV stand!

 

There's the actual cake that they had to slice to also serve the judges. I don't remember what they said about it. About all I remember is that the ladybug team didn't win.

Surely the TV programming has run out of ladybug cakes to show me...

Still Life On The Route

The Pony doesn't paint bowls of fruit. But he sometimes takes an artsy-fartsy picture with his phone while out on the mail route.

 

I'd say this was a victim of the recent 2 inches of rain we received on Tuesday. But thinking about it, maybe not. Rushing water would not likely trap a ball full of air. Surely it would have floated along on top. So maybe some kid was just practicing soccer. Or the ball was washed away at the end of the storm's aftermath, and floated along a shallow stream of water to its current resting place.

So many scenarios. Only one truth.

The SilverRedO Saga Continues

Farmer H liberated SilverRedO from Mick the Mechanic's shop last week. His intention being to take SilverRedO to another mechanic to get the head gasket fixed. But the more Farmer H drove SilverRedO, the more uncertain he became that the head gasket was the problem.

The new plan was to take SilverRedO to the local Chevy dealer where we bought him. It has changed hands now, and Farmer H doesn't have the close personal contact with the family owners like he did before. Still, he wanted to get SilverRedO into their shop, and either get the head gasket fixed for around $1600, or get a new engine put in for around $6000. I KNOW! But it's still cheaper than the new used truck Farmer H had his eyes on for $29,000.

Anyhoo... the Chevy shop couldn't work SilverRedO in until March 30. That's just for an exam, heh, heh. To see what they think is wrong. Meanwhile, Farmer H has been putting his own fallow-lying automobile expertise to use.

"I noticed that my truck smokes sometimes, and sometimes it doesn't. Yesterday, it backfired really loud. And when I turned onto our blacktop road, I couldn't get any power out of it. I had the oil changed. It didn't lose any oil. The more I think about it, the problem is something with the fuel system. Like maybe there's water in it. Or an electrical problem. It kind of seems like something is wrong with the PCV (Positive Crankcase Ventilation) valve. It builds up pressure inside the engine, and lets oil leak by the valve seals. That's what my other buddy told me. He works on the vehicles for the next county over's sheriff's department."

"So are you going to tell that to the Chevy mechanics?"

"I'll let them see what they think is wrong, but I'm not agreeing to any work until they tell me, and give me an estimate. When I came home, the CHECK ENGINE light came on. So I'm not going to drive it until I take it to the Chevy dealer."

"Don't you have a chip thingy I got you to plug in for the CHECK ENGINE light? And it gives you a code for what's wrong?"

"Yeah."

"I remember I got it for you to check T-Hoe."

"Yeah."

"So you have it?"

"Yeah."

Okay. Am I missing something here? Farmer H can just take that gadget out and look up what's wrong with SilverRedO. I'm pretty sure that's where the Chevy shop mechanics will start.

There is no rhyme nor reason to how Farmer H does things. But he DID say that fixing PCV valves is a lot cheaper than fixing a head gasket.

Mrs. HM Lost $14 On Scratchers

You may not realize the significance of the title. You may ask yourself, "Surely Mrs. HM has lost more than THAT on scratchers before. So why the drama now?"

Here's the deal. On Monday, The Pony had two winners on the $2 scratchers I bought for him. One was a $4 winner, the other a $10 winner. As usual, he declared that he wanted me to cash in the tickets, and buy him more. He didn't care what tickets. Only something that caught my eye. My eye is pretty good, you know, at picking winning scratchers.

Monday night, I told The Pony to hand me his winners. He scratches them at the cutting block or kitchen counter, then throws away the losers, and leaves the winners on the counter by my glasses case. I was sitting at the kitchen table, and wanted him to hand them over the sink counter, so I could put them in my purse with my own scant winners.

"They're not over here."

"What did you do with them?"

"I left them right here on the counter. Like I always do."

"I remember seeing them there when I made my salad. I didn't move them. Did you throw them away when you made your supper? I know you were using the whole counter, making your pasta."

"No. I didn't throw them away. Did you put the somewhere else?"

"No. I don't think so. If I did, they'd be right there by the sink. Where I can reach them from over here. Look around."

"Not here."

"Huh. They're not in my purse. There's nowhere else they could be! Unless in the trash. Not THAT trash! The trash Dad took out on his way to the auction. To put in the dumpster up at the end of the driveway."

I looked all over the kitchen. That night, and the next morning. Those winners were GONE!

That's a terrible way to lose money on the lottery.

Terror At 4.5 Blocks

Sweet Gummi Mary! I don't know what can go wrong next.

 

Tuesday, I was mailing my AT&T bill, after first cutting the return part (with all the account information) extra-large instead of tearing it at the perforation, so it wouldn't slide around in the window envelope, and come back to me six weeks later, stamped NO SUCH ADDRESS. 

When I pulled away from the drive-thru mailbox, I noticed something new on T-Hoe's dashboard. 

IT WAS THE FLAT TIRE SYMBOL!

I pushed the button that shows me all kinds of insider info about the operation of T-Hoe's innards. The tire pressure readings showed LF 38, RF 36, RR 36, and LR -- !

-- !!!!!!

That means NOTHING! 

I didn't feel any thumping when  I drove. I've had a flat tire before. It thump-thumps! The car wobbles. But T-Hoe was driving the same as always. How odd. I had just left the Sis-Town Casey's. I hadn't noticed that my left rear tire was flat when I came out. That meant T-Hoe's tire had gone flat in the distance of one mile or less. 

My heart was pounding. I couldn't drive on a flat tire! It would ruin the tire. Maybe the rim, too. Lucky I was RIGHT BY Pony House, where Farmer H was working. I drove the 4.5 blocks from the main Post Office to Pony House, and parked in front. I called Farmer H.

"Are you inside? Can you see out the window? My sensors say that my left rear tire has NO AIR in it! I just opened the door and looked back but it doesn't look flat to me."

"I can see you. That tire is fine."

"Are the sensors on the right tires now? What if it means one of the other tires?"

"I'll come out."

Farmer H walked around T-Hoe, and reported that all tires were fine.

"You've got a bad sensor."

Good to know. Now T-Hoe's brain flashes THREE messages on the dashboard. 

Check Park Assist

Check Suspension System

Check Tire Sensors

It's a wonder I can drive, with all those distractions flashing under my nose.

More Cute Mailroom Creatures

The Truth in Blogging Law requires me to inform you that the cute mailroom creatures I will discuss today were not actually IN the mailroom. So that's out of the way now. Don't try to sue me.

The Pony sent me a text and pictures Saturday morning.

"Co-worker asked if we want a puppy."

"Have to ask Dad first. What kind? Some shepherd, maybe? Looks like it will be big."

"Not sure. I think she said they'd be medium or big dogs when grown."

"Still have to ask dad."

 

Here they are:

 

 

That's gonna be a big dog for sure. Here's a picture of all 8 of them:

 

I wouldn't mind to have a puppy. A female would probably be best suited to the companionship of both Juno and Jack. Of course there was still Farmer H to consult. The Pony put it off most of the evening, until just before he went to bed. You know the answer, right?

"I don't want no dog!"

I didn't want a dog, either, back when Farmer H made a deal to take PUPPY JACK without consulting me. That turned out pretty good...

They're Like Blind Men Describing An Elephant

Wait a minute! I think I just called myself an elephant!

I had yet a different cashier at Country Mart on Friday. Not the old lady who put my age as 65, nor the young lass who put my age as 21, nor the fastidious man who put my age as 33. This was a middle-aged gal who was quite congenial. As she handed me the bag with The Pony's wine, she said, "This is the most important one!"

When I got back to T-Hoe, I checked the receipt.

 

THIS cashier put my age as 55. I won't complain. I guess she would be what is referred to as a realist.

Quite A Late-Night Coincidence

I was sitting up watching TV Friday night. Nothing was on! All these DISH channels, and nothing to watch. I settled on what may or may not have been a current episode of Spring Baking Championship. Sometimes the contestants are quite creative. Sometimes they have disasters. A challenge called for them to make whoopie pies. The catch was that they had to also make them relate to a spring critter like a caterpillar, bee, butterfly, or THIS!

 

Yeah. Just a coincidence that I randomly chose a show that would have a LADYBUG. 

I took that picture off the TV screen, so it's not the best view.

The Rich Get Richer

On Friday, The Pony gave me money to buy him a lottery (heh, heh, once again, I typed "lootery") ticket. Not just any lottery ticket. The new $50 ticket. He didn't specify where he wanted me to get it.

 

"I'm going to visit Sis. So I'll be at the School-Turn Casey's, and the Sis-Town Casey's. Also, I'm going to Country Mart on the way home."

 

"It doesn't matter. Wherever you feel like there's a winner when you look at it. Though with your recent track record, I might be crazy..."

 

"I'll get it when it speaks to me."

 

So off I went, mulling it over on my drive. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like the School-Turn Casey's was the place. In line, I looked at the ticket case. That $50 ticket was kind of falling from its place at the top left corner of the case. Like it was leaning forward, wanting to be bought. When I got back to T-Hoe, I looked at the ticket number. 015. The 15th is The Pony's birthday date. So I felt like it was meant to be.

By the time I got home, I was kind of worried about that ticket. Such a lot of money. I've been wrong before with my hunches. But this was THE PONY'S money. Oh, well. He can afford a loss. His bank account has grown fat, with only his car insurance and his phone bill to pay. The Pony came out to carry groceries for me. It was his day off.

"I'm scratching my fifty now. I'll finish putting away the groceries in a minute."

 

"I'll sit down here to see what you get."

 

The Pony grabbed a quarter, and started scratching at the kitchen counter. He scratches off all the bottom numbers first, instead of the set of numbers to match. He's looking for a WIN symbol, or multiples of a number. That means he'll be a winner.

 

"WINNER! I got the symbol for automatic win."

 

"I'm so relieved! We know that you at least got your $50 back."

 

After scratching all the numbers, The Pony picked up the ticket and brought it to me. So I knew it must be good.

 

"Look. It won $200!"

 

"Well. I guess I made the right choice!"

 

The Pony stashed his ticket away with some previous winners. He's saving for CasinoPalooza. Before we leave, I'll buy those tickets from him, and cash them in over time as I buy my scratchers. 

Yeah. That kind of spoiled my own tickets. Nothing spectacular. Though I DID win $20 on a $3 ticket. I'd take a picture of The Pony's winner, but I don't feel like getting up to deal with it. It's not nearly as much fun to brag about somebody else's winner...

Another Sign Of The Season

The Pony wore SHORTS to work on Thursday! It was 73 degrees when I drove home from town. That's sweatin' weather for The Pony. He didn't order any USPS shorts with his uniform allowance. Just pants and shirts. So he wore dark gray cargo shorts left over from high school. They needed a belt, since The Pony has grown more svelte now that he's working for a living.

"Oh, Mom. Listen to this. It's what I heard while I was driving on my route."

"That's the ICE CREAM MAN!"

"I know! I kept hearing it, and I looked in the mirror, and he was behind me."

"Are you allowed to buy ice cream while you're working?"

[There are rules about what employees can do in uniform. Like don't buy alcohol, or lottery tickets, or anything that might give people a reason to complain. Even if they've clocked out, and are on the way home, it is advised to take off or cover up identifying USPS uniform symbols. Such as The Pony turning his sweater inside-out, so the emblem is not seen.]

"If I'd had change in my pocket, and not so much mail, I would have stopped. I saw two old gray-haired people come out with a kid. I guess their grandkid. They bought him ice cream. They all might have got some. So the ice cream man was making money."

"Now that he's been out playing his tune, I bet more people are prepared for him. This time he probably took them by surprise."

"Yeah. I'll try to have money with me next time."

Guess What's In The Pony's Mailroom NOW

Okay. You don't have to actually guess. But it's not a dog toy that looks inappropriate and smells like chicken. It's not a shovel. It's not an oil-spill soaker squid. It's nothing from the Meat Church.

"Oh, Mom. We now have boxes of baby chicks and ducklings stacked against the wall. The boxes say, 'Live chicks, deliver immediately,' or something like that. I think the people who order them come to pick them up, because I don't think the rural carriers are allowed to transport live animals. Besides, they can't leave them by a mailbox."

"No. Something would eat them. Unless it's a house way down a road where the carrier goes anyway, to the house. Do they make noise?"

"Oh, YEAH! They'be been cheeping since they got here."

"That reminds me of when Genius was in kindergarten, and the teacher moved his seat to where he was by the baby chicks that hatched. Only it wasn't a treat for Genius. It really bothered him. He'd get home and say, 'All day long, CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP! I'm so tired of hearing those chicks!' Can you see inside? Can you go look at them?"

"One of the clerks was over there with the delivery driver, saying, 'Oh, look at their little speckled heads!' I guess they will be there until the people who ordered them come pick them up."

Never a dull moment at The Pony's workplace.

A New Estranged BFF

Farmer H has grown disillusioned with his buddy Mick the Mechanic. SilverRedO is once again being held hostage on Mick's lot. Oh, Farmer H could go and recalaim SilverRedO any time. But he wants that head gasket fixed.

SilverRedO has been there about a week and a half. In fact, Farmer H has borrowed a truck for hauling stuff to Pony House. What's the point in having a truck if you can't use it? At this stage in his life, Farmer H does not need to be borrowing trucks.

"Mick is about to make me mad! He was supposed to start working on SilverRedO on Friday. But when I asked about it yesterday, Mick said, 'I'm not sure I want one of my bays tied up with a long-term project.' So I think I'll just go get my truck and take it to someone else. Maybe the Chevy dealer. Or I know another guy who can do it."

"Well, the dealer might charge more. But I agree that you need to get your truck back."

"Yeah. I can haul Pony's furniture with it, then get it fixed."

I HOPE SilverRedO will start after sitting so long. I also understand that Mick the Mechanic is a businessman, and he needs to do what's best for his business. He could probably make more than the $1600 that SilverRedO would bring him, by cycling more jobs through his shop during the time it would take to fix that head gasket. I don't think Farmer H will hold it against Mick for too long. He's just all hyped-up about going without his truck for a couple weeks, so soon after getting it back after the tow truck damage during the snow.

Mick has always put Farmer H's jobs ahead of others when he needed something done, like a tire repair or brake problem. I'm pretty sure Farmer H will get over it, and Mick will once again be his BFF.

The Nuts Are Connected To The A$$hole

I went in Orb K on Monday for scratchers. Two registers were open, each with a customer. The customer on the left left. So I stepped up to that register. It's next to the scratcher display. The clerk was tearing off my tickets when I felt a breath on my right cheek.

"Here's my nuts."

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

An arm appeared in my peripheral vision, the reached past my shoulder to deposit a package of peanuts on the counter, next to two small dessert-like containers setting to the side, which I had not noticed previously.

Maybe I'm crazy, but I am of the opinion that a customer being served at the moment takes precedence over a "forgetter." Has the right-of-way, so to speak. The clerk would not have asked if she could help me if she was waiting on a Forgetter to run get something in the middle of a transaction. The register was clear. My tickets were rung up.

This wasn't even the customer who just left! So there had been at least one other transaction since the Forgetter, and before mine.

It didn't help that the Forgetter was a short man, wearing a dress shirt, who reminded me of a former boss.

A$$HOLE!

Indisposed, But Not Indisposable

The Pony worked 12 hours on Saturday. Sadly, he did not get the route he'd been filling in for all week, the one he had a hold on for a few months, and is quite familiar with, in Downtown Hillmomba. Instead, he was put on the route he did his training on, which is about an 11-mile walking loop.

The Pony does not mind the walking. Even with the wind whipping from the northwest, wind chill in the 20s, chapping his face and hands. He has a windproof coat with a hood. The problem was, he was feeling a bit... um... indisposed.

"I had to make three emergency stops at the Casey's. I'm NOT going to be the one to soil the seat of the LLV." [Long Life Vehicle]

As IF anyone could tell a difference on those vehicles in such ill repair!

Anyhoo... The Pony didn't clock out until 8:00 p.m. Rather than having me get supper ready on his way home, he decided to stop by Burger King. Which I declared did NOT help his... um... indisposedness.

Looks like ol' HM was right. The Pony called out of work on Sunday morning, being... um... indisposed three more times before noon. I know he was feeling better then, because he ate a leftover corn muffin from two days ago.

 

No harm done in missing a day. The Pony has to use up his accumulated leave hours before his 1-YEAR date of hire. He has a mandatory 5-DAY break then, before starting his second year as a CCA (City Carrier Assistant). He just got a letter a couple days ago, saying the five days will be from April 19-23. Any accumulated hours of leave will be wiped from his record if not used before then.

 

How time flies.

Mrs. HM, The Ageless Chameleon

I was back in Country Mart on Thursday, and picked up The Pony's wine, and Farmer H's Wild Turkey. The problem with the registers seems to have been resolved. I put the liquor bottles on the conveyor with my groceries and Pony/Farmer H snacks, and they scanned like normal.

I had a different checker again. It's a tall guy who might or might not be on the spectrum. He gets the job done, but is a little slow, and makes some odd remarks at times. He's a nice guy. I saw him one day while I was waiting at the deli counter. He was putting on a backpack, and talking to the deli worker. Said he was clocked out, and headed to his OTHER job. Which was working in the kitchen at the sports bar next to the Liquor Store down the street. A guy who works two jobs is a stand-up guy.

It didn't dawn on me until the next day that I should check my receipt and see how old HE thought I was! Lucky for me, it was twisted up in my purse (I twist the receipts I've already recorded in my checkbook register).

 

 

33!!!

Heh, heh! Not a patronizing 21, not an overestimated 65, but a nice middle-aged inoffensive age in order to ring up my two bottles of alcohol.

This guy should get Employee of the Month.

My Body Has Forsaken Me!

Sweet Gummi Mary! Can I ever catch a break? Here I am, fresh from almost dying 39 days ago, having shaken off the itchy VIRUS rash and the giant hive-y blobs from the Lovenox shots... and now I have a new old issue to deal with.

Since I came home from the hospital and went off the steroid and antibiotic they sent me home with, my lower legs have been swelly and red. Don't get me wrong. They're always red, from the top of the ankle to the crew sock line. For the past 7-8 years they've been like that. Not bright red, but pinkish. They don't hurt or cause problems. The docs and nurses poked at them in the hospital. Never said anything was wrong or prescribed treatment.

I showed my NP this new swelling on my follow-up doctor appointment on Wednesday. I had a little blister the size of a jellybean on the inner side of my left calf. He looked at it. Said it was nothing to worry about. I told him how in March of 2020, I had that giant egg-sized blister pop up on the outer side of that same calf. How it was just after lockdown, and nobody was seeing patients, and Farmer H got a butt-shot on the parking lot of his NP's office. 

 

My NP chuckled. I explained how I treated it with triple antibiotic ointment, and kept it covered with breathable large bandaids. He agreed that such treatment was proper, and said I could do the same if this little one came open. But to notify him if it looked infected or oozed yellow goo. He also said he was ordering some test I forget, but it seemed like a circulation thingy, similar to an ultrasound I had for blood clots long ago. He also said I could go to Wound Care, in the bowels of the hospital, and have it looked at. Since it wasn't yet a wound, I declined.

Anyhoo... the very next day, I had put a long, wide elastic wrap on my legs to keep down that swelling. I'd been using them off and on for a couple weeks. Wore them to the casino, which made my legs feel better during the long ride there and back. Thursday evening, I changed clothes in the master bathroom so The Pony could get into his 2-hour bath sooner. I wrapped my legs while sitting on the toilet, rather than out on the couch as usual. In fastening those little elastic metal hook thingies to keep it from unraveling, I poked my left leg, on the outside edge, above the calf. It's happened a couple times. No big deal. I just re-situated that fastener.

As I was pulling up my sweatpants, I checked to make sure the two fasteners would hold. The wrap felt wet. What in the Not-Heaven? I mentally accused The Pony of splashing water on my wraps when he started his bathwater. They'd been sitting on the edge of the tub, all rolled up. WAIT A MINUTE! That was blood! Not much. Just a tiny spot. I stuck a folded piece of toilet paper under the edge of the wrap. It was just a scratch, after all.

SWEET GUMMI MARY! When I unwrapped that wrap a couple hours later...

 

THE EGG-SIZED BLISTER WAS BACK!

 

The top edge was loose, the skin white like when the top of a blister is ready to come off. A little blood had settled in the bottom edge of the blister, where the skin was still attached. It didn't hurt a bit. The clear fluid had seeped out on the wrap in a couple of spots.

 

I washed my hands, used GermX, got my trusty big bandaids, slathered them with ointment, and covered my egg.  I'll be treating it like last time. It took two weeks to completely heal back then. In fact, it's been almost exactly two years to the day since this happened before. Then it was the evening we returned from a 9-hour trip to Oklahoma. I bumped that area getting out of A-Cad, and then sat too close to my underdesk heater.

This time, I blame the VIRUS for messing up my skin and immune response. And that tiny instigator, the pinprick of the wrap-holders, which was not even in the blister area itself, but an inch or two above it. I'd rush off to the doctor, but my NP had JUST seen a version of this blistering, and was not concerned about such a "wound" itself, but only if it showed infection.

The Pony's Mystifying Package

Never a dull day at work for The Pony. He had a new picture to show me on Wednesday. Another package picture. Nobody knows what it means.

 

What say you? The Pony said there were no clues on the package. That's the edge of his hand, blocking the address, and I trimmed it so as not to manicure-shame him for his half-grown-out Golden Eye nail polish on his pinky finger.

Too bad the package wasn't damaged, so whatever was inside could be seen leaking out. Or maybe it's a GOOD thing the package wasn't damaged. Maybe somebody at the Meat Church was praying for it. But I'm pretty sure it's not THAT kind of church.

Maybe It's Just Me

Or maybe it's just HIPPIE, my not-so-trusty laptop. It's no secret that my laptop is my lesser computer. I'm loyal to New Delly, the desktop down in my dark basement lair, that runs off the tower built especially for me by Genius. I'm not a bit guilty about declaring a favorite.

Anyhoo... is it just me, or has BLOGGER lost its ever-lovin' mind? You can answer that. It's not a rhetorical question. Here's the problem.

THE CURSOR JUMPS BACK WHILE I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF TYPING!

It's SO annoying. I'll be typing away, then all at once I'm in the paragraph above, in the middle of an already-done sentence, sometimes even in the middle of a word, typing my new thoughts! I cry shenanigans! How can you type a proper blog post like that? 

 

I guess maybe it happens when the cloud spinny thingy is updating and saving what I just wrote. It also happens when I'm typing in the comment section. 

IS it just me? In which case I'm going to need a name for this new conspiracy to get Mrs. HM. Or does it happen to everyone?

Future Sweet Dreams For The Pony

FINALLY, Farmer H got me a picture of the sheets he bought at the auction for The Pony's soon-to-be new bed in his soon-to-be livable house. The $20 sheet sets that The Pony authorized Farmer H to buy. He asked for blue. And maybe green or gray. Farmer H said he bought blue and gray. Just one more misleading statement by Farmer H.

 

 

There they are, posed on The Pony's new chair. So obviously, Farmer H unloaded the sheets over at Pony House. I suppose they won't get in the way. The closets are done. And hopefully The Pony will have a washer and dryer before he's ready to put these sheets on the new bed he will hopefully have before moving in.

As you can see, Farmer H bought BLUE and TAN sheets. They're okay with The Pony. And they're 6-piece sets, which includes a flat sheet, fitted sheet, and 4 pillowcases. The Pony's gonna hafta buy some pillows!

I think this was a good buy on the sheets. But good luck fitting them back in their plastic containers after washing! I'm pretty sure they'll just go on a shelf.

Never Buy A New One And Pay On Time, If You Can Get A Used One For A Dime

Okay, I'm borrowing a little from the Ozark Mountain Daredevils song "Horse Trader." But the sentiment is the same. No need to spend a lot on something new if you can get it used. Or KEEP it used.

SilverRedO needs a new Head Gasket. Yeah. I have no idea what that is, but my Estranged BFF Google says it will cost between $1200 and $2000 to repair it. Seems you have to take the whole engine apart. And hopefully get it put back together with no spare parts laying around all willy-nilly.

Farmer H has been playing the old "Grandma's up on the roof" joke with me, only he's not joking. He's been alluding to the resolution of the SilverRedO problem. Speaking as if SilverRedO might be repaired, but the cost would be prohibitive. Having SilverRedO in Mick the Mechanic's shop, and relaying possible things that might be wrong.

Anyhoo... once I asked again what was wrong with SilverRedO, I looked it up for myself. That amount for repairs is not something I wanted to hear, but it is not insurmountable. I looked it up, because Farmer H had actually uttered offhandedly something about "...if the truck is even worth repairing." REEEE! Jam on the brakes! Farmer H is never without a truck. If SilverRedO is not repaired, that means Farmer H is trying to weasel a new truck out of Mrs. HM!

THAT IS NOT HAPPENING! Not after the Great Pony House Project.

So I asked about SilverRedO on Monday, since The Pony was off, and made a trip to Steak N Shake, and saw Farmer H parked (in A-Cad) at Mick's shop.

"Mick says it's a head gasket."

"So? That will be under $2000 to fix."

"Well. It's going to be $1600. But if I could find another truck with low mileage for $5000-$6000 more, it would be worth trading."

"Getting it fixed is way cheaper than getting another truck! We just put all our money into Pony House."

"Yeah. I was looking at what [dealer where we bought SilverRedO] has in stock, and they want way too much! I bet we could trade A-Cad and get back the full price we paid new."

"Maybe. But that won't be any help, since we'd need to buy another car, and pay way more than it would have been a year ago. Prices of everything have skyrocketed!"

"Yeah. I know."

The AUDACITY of Farmer H daring to look for a new truck! I think he has spent enough on his assorted outbuildings. Plus having TWO tractors because he never sold the old one like he promised if I let him buy a new one.

Farmer H needs constant watching...

Waste Not, Want Some

SilverRedO is having problems. He belches black smoke when started. Farmer H said what he thinks is going bad, but I know as much about engines as I know about geography. So let's just say that SilverRedO might need to have a Vanuatu replaced. 

It won't be cheap. 

Anyhoo... I picked up Farmer H at Mick the Mechanic's a few days ago. He decided not to wait for repairs. That meant he had to accompany me to Save A Lot. It would be so much simpler if I could strap Farmer H into the child seat of my cart/walker. He's not a good go-fer like the boys were when shopping with me. AND he finds more expensive treats for himself.

Farmer H DID find a bargain. Two porterhouse steaks for $12.98. They were HUGE! A better bargain than the three ribeyes I found at Country Mart. Farmer H grilled them on Sunday evening. He and The Pony feasted on steak, baked potato, garlic toast, and baked beans for Farmer H. I laid out a frozen hamburger to be grilled, and made a salad of romaine, Imo's cheese, boiled egg, and grape tomatoes. With Caesar dressing, since I got out the wrong bottle and didn't have my Ken's Blue Cheese.

Anyhoo... Farmer H is a good griller. The meats came out just right, although mine would have been better if it had been fresh meat, not thawed. I was still feasting when Farmer H and The Pony were throwing out their bones to the dogs.

"I had some meat left against the bone, and I can't cut it off. I'm too full to eat it, so the dogs can have it."

"Yeah, I had some left on mine too, Pony. I just gave it to Juno. So you can give yours to Jack."

 

"WAIT A MINUTE! Let me see! I'll eat that meat! I didn't have any steak!"

 

"Oh. Wow. To see you gnaw on that bone..."

 

"Thanks for not taking a picture! It's DELICIOUS!"

 

"We always ask if you want steak."

 

"You guys like it better. It comes in twos, mostly."

 

"We could buy another package."

 

"No. I'm satisfied with what I gnawed off the bone. Give it to Jack."

 

I can't believe Juno got a meaty bone before I had a chance to gnaw it!!!

Farmer Non Grata

Farmer H's dark secrets have been revealed! We'll get to that in a minute.

Imagine my horror when my INTERNET WAS DOWN on Saturday morning! It was just fine on Friday night when I shut down HIPPIE. The Pony had Saturday off, and was planning lunch and a Pony House tour with his cousin. He was in the shower, so I couldn't send him down to reset the modem.

I MADE MY FIRST TRIP DOWN THOSE 13 RAIL-LESS BASEMENT STAIRS!

Yes. The first trip since my Unfortunate HospitVALzation. Thank the Gummi Mary, there was no literal TRIP. I got down them just fine, holding onto the banisters with both hands, until I could no longer reach them past the 8th step. Then I grabbed the upper floor, and eventually the metal support pole at the bottom. The trip back up was not so smooth. I hurt my GOOD knee. 

Anyhoo... I saw that somebody had closed the door on the little cabinet in Genius's former desk, where the modem lives. FARMER H! He's always closing doors. It's like an obsession with him. I went to the NASCAR bathroom to flush the toilet. You know how toilets get if you don't flush them for a month. We have hard water, and sometimes a calcium ring will built up. 

Huh. The toilet did not want to flush. The water level was low, but then it rose higher than normal, and was sluggish to go out. FARMER H! He musta took a poop while he was relegated to the basement to watch TV. I plunged it, and squirted some toilet cleaner in. Might as well do a chore while I was down here.

I went into the workshop area, to unplug the DISH satellite that sucks in my innernets. We always do a double restart: the modem and the satellite. Huh. I couldn't get to the plug. There was a large cardboard box in front of the shelf. FARMER H! There were some empty Diet Mountain Dew bottles in it. That darn pig can use a wastebasket or a trash bag like a normal person, and NOT collect his trash in a cardboard box to set in front of my plug-in.

Also in the cardboard box was an EMPTY box of Krispy Kreme five-flavor Jelly Belly jelly beans. FARMER H! I order those jelly beans for the boys every Christmas. These belonged to The Pony, who left them downstairs and said he didn't really favor them, so I could have them. I was waiting for a time that I really wanted them. But Farmer H must have noticed that they were under his roof, and helped himself without asking anyone. Like it just randomly rains Krispy Kreme five-flavor Jelly Belly jelly beans in our basement.

Farmer H's excuse was that he found the jelly beans on the floor. In the box, with the shrink-wrap still in place. Which he didn't mention. 

I don't even know how to schedule this for our nightly This Is The Time Of Day We Discuss The Most Recent Thing You've Done Wrong session.

Country Mart Makes It Hard To Be An Alcoholic

I was back in Country Mart on Friday, for some Hawaiian Pretzel Slider Buns, Coke for The Pony, a pack of pinwheels from the deli (because my fried chicken friend came over to chat and told me she made them fresh that morning), some deli baked beans for Farmer H's grilling on Sunday, and SLAW. I also picked up a bottle of Wild Turkey for Farmer H. Like The Pony's wine, he has a bottle on the kitchen counter over half full. But I tend to grab awkward items while I'm in the store not getting much, to avoid a lot of heavy stuff to carry in on future trips.

When I got up front, two checkers were open. I got in line with the blond lady checker, who was taking payment from a man, with a man and woman having only one item being next. Something was taking a long time, so I went to the short checkout, where the young man who likes decorating for Christmas was working, finishing up a full-cart guy.

I set one of my two 12-packs of Coke on the conveyor.

"I can ring up everything but the alcohol."

"WHAT? I say it's time to start aging a little faster!"

"It's not the age. The register shuts down when it rings alcohol purchases. Shuts down our whole system."

"Oh. That lady DID have a problem ringing up alcohol last time I bought it. Okay."

I put my Coke back in the cart, and went back to the Blond Checker. Nobody had gotten in line yet. I set out my Coke, and the cold items, then the Wild Turkey.

"I can't ring up the alcohol. Our system goes down."

"OH! I thought it was just that one register! I get it now. Well, I guess somebody is going to have to take this back to put on the shelf, because I don't feel like walking back across the store."

Blond Checker set the Wild Turkey aside, by her bag-holding contraption. She finished my order, and I went to the lottery machine. Behind me, I heard the young man checker telling a guy he couldn't ring up the alcohol.

"You're kidding! That's crazy. I'll just get it somewhere else."

You'd think somebody would have gotten the bright idea to hang a sign on the alcohol shelf, saying that they couldn't ring up alcohol at this time. Surely they were getting tired of telling people, and walking alcohol to the back corner of the store for re-shelving. And on a FRIDAY AFTERNOON, too! 

Oh, well. Farmer H wasn't OUT of Wild Turkey. So not a big deal for me. The Liquor Store is virtually across the street, about a block down. People could easily go there to pick up what they needed. Since I didn't NEED it, I just went home. I already had my scratchers, and was not interested in going in another store.

At least nobody got a chance to type me in as 65 YEARS OLD!

Oh, How The Worm (Plus Even Steven) Has Turned On This $450 Scratchers Winner

So long ago, that day last month when I won $450 in one day playing scratchers. 

This week brought me:

SilverRedO back at Mick the Mechanic's due to spouting smoke and not wanting to run.

A losing day at the casino.

My hospital bill from my 4-day stay to keep from dying.

 

At least the casino was not over $450. One out of three ain't good. But it could be worse. In good news, The Pony went to the Devil's Playground when he got off work, to buy himself some razor blades. And he bought something for ME! He sent a text asking if I could guess what he bought me. I COULD!

 

PEEPS!

 

I'm psychic like that.

Thank Heaven, For Little Grocery Checkers

When I was in Country Mart on Monday, I bought The Pony another bottle of wine. He still has the last one, unopened, which I purchased as an ALLEGED 65-year-old! With his wonky schedule, you never know when The Pony will have a day off, and he likes to have wine on the evening before his day off.

Anyhoo... I also bought the Monday deli special, which is dark meat chicken, 6 legs and 6 thighs for $7.99. I think it's a Not-Heaven of a deal. I froze part of it, because we won't eat it that fast. We'll see if it warms up okay. If not, the dogs will have a great treat. Sadly, The Pony turns up his muzzle at chicken with bones in it.

The deli lady whispered over the counter when I asked for the special: "Do you want it FRESH?"

"Oh! Yes, please. How long will that take?"

"About 17 minutes. I'll go put it in."

"Okay. I think I can shop for that long."

I picked up a couple boxes of Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix. Some milk. Pretzel buns the size of Hawaiian Rolls. A can of PAM nonstick cooking spray. The Pony's wine and Mardi Gras cookie slice. Five bananas. Some deli tuna salad. It had been 17 minutes, but the chicken wasn't ready. So I just stood to wait.

The Deli Gal brought it out to my cart. Instead of being in the standard take-out box, it was in a big foil pan, with foil over the top.

"I put it in this pan, because we had some REALLY big chicken legs this week! You never know what we're going to get."

"Okay. Thanks!"

"Next time, if you want fresh chicken, you can call us before you leave home, and it should be ready when you get here."

"Thanks, that's good to know."

Those deli people are always looking out for me. As was the young checker I got this time. She was so polite. When I got out to T-Hoe, I looked at the receipt to make sure they charged me the $7.99 for the chicken special. They did. And then I saw it...

That young checker had put down my wine age as 21!

Farmer H Is The Pony's Personal Shopper

Farmer H is gone to the auction. He is on a mission to pick up some items for The Pony's new house. Oh, he'll be getting things for himself as well. But he specifically took orders from The Pony.

"Pony. Look in there on the trunk in our bedroom. See that clear pack of sheets? They sell them at the auction. They're new. That's a queen size. They're usually around $20. I looked them up, and online the same pack is $59. I can get you some for your bed if you want."

"Do they have other colors? Besides the brown?"

"Yeah. They usually have blue and red and green and maybe some other colors."

"Okay. Get me two. I want blue. And maybe green if they don't have two different colors of blue."

"They come with a top sheet, fitted sheet, and two pillowcases."

"Yeah. Get me two sets."

The Pony does not shy away from a bargain.

Try Getting This Kind Of Service At Pony House

Mark your calendars, people! The Pony came home 20 minutes late from work, because he was HELPING someone! So perhaps The Pony has developed a latent urge to care about other people, and actually help them. Proving that FAFSA inventory WRONG!

Anyhoo... The Pony went in to work at 9:30 on Monday. He texted that he had clocked out and was starting home at 7:50 p.m. But texted again at 8:10, to say he had been caught up giving someone advice on things they hadn't been taught. So I took his chicken tenders and fries out of the oven, to reinsert closer to time for him to get home. Then set them beside the slice of chocolate chip cookie-cake decorated with buttercream icing in a Mardi Gras theme, which I had gotten for The Pony at Country Mart.

When The Pony came in, Farmer H said, "Tough day?" And The Pony held up his shoe, which was coated with mud. As was the bottom of his uniform pants leg. 

I said I would wash his pants overnight, while he was in the bath Farmer H ran for him. And scrape off the mud, and wipe down his shoes with a wet paper towel.

Oh, and I may not have time now until tomorrow to write out the electric bill that came today for Pony House.