Fat Sausage RumpusHolery Rumble

During our recent CasinoPalooza in northeast Oklahoma, our breakfast options were limited. In the past, we ate breakfast at a restaurant in the casino hotel. It is now closed. No more breakfast buffet! Our choices were a grill inside the casino itself, where we have had lunch on occasion. They have updated their menu to serve breakfast items. When Farmer H and I took The Pony to Oklahoma last year, we ate breakfast there. It was okay. Breakfast doesn't start there until 9:00 a.m. This time, we didn't really want to wait. Think of all the people who would be getting in line at 9:00.

We didn't really want to go somewhere in town to eat breakfast. "Town" is about 15 minutes in the opposite direction of where we were headed. Our other option was a little coffee shop down by the check-in desk. They serve pastries and basic breakfast items. That's the choice we made.

The Pony and Farmer H had biscuits and gravy the first morning, and also a bear claw. I had a sausage/egg biscuit.

 

It was delicious! Even though it was microwaved and served in a plastic container. Look how thick that sausage is! It's actually a sausage/egg/cheese biscuit, but I didn't want the cheese. I could have had bacon instead of sausage, but I'm a sausage kind of gal.

On the second morning, The Pony had biscuits and gravy and some donut holes. Farmer H had the biscuits and gravy and a cinnamon roll. I didn't get pictures of their food, because I was distracted.

The available seating was across the main walkway, in the bar. Of course the bar isn't open in the morning! There were high stools along the bar itself (no thank you, said Mrs. HM's wobbly knees and ample rumpus). Or four tables with sturdy upholstered chairs. There were only three chairs per table, except for the one by the window, which had four.

Wednesday morning was not busy. My sister the ex-ex-mayor's wife, and the ex-ex-mayor, took a table next to ours. Nobody was at the other tables, except for two women who chose a tall table and tall stools just outside the bar area.

Thursday morning, Sis and XXM got downstairs before us. Only two tables were left. They took the table by the window, and Sis sat at our table to save it as we were coming down the elevator. I sat down at ours, Sis went to hers, and the guys went to order and bring back the food. All at once there was a kerfuffle at the table next to me, where Sis and XXM had sat the previous morning.

Three older women sat at that table. Another almost-as-old woman was arguing with them, and gesturing. She did not seem to gain satisfaction, and turned to walk away. At that moment, a fourth old woman sat down at that table, and I noticed that they now had FOUR chairs.

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Were you needing chairs?" asked Sis.

Young-Old Woman turned around and came back. "Yes. Every table had three chairs, but now it seems that some chairs have disappeared! Where have all the chairs gone?"

I guess the Old-Old Women felt guilty. One of them, anyway. "We took a chair from your table. Because we have four people."

"Here. Do you just need one? We have two we can spare," said Sis, the peacemaking former kindergarten teacher. She dragged a chair over to give the Young-Old Woman.

"Thank you. We only need one."

There might have been fisticuffs if not for Sis! I'm wondering if those Old-Old Women took the chair from the Young-Old Woman's table after her group had already set down their things and got in line.

RumpusHolery apparently crosses state lines...

Pony Cake, Pony Cake, You Bad Man...

...this ain't your roof, and eating anything under it is something you no longer can! 

 

The Pony baked a cake on his day off Wednesday. Just stuff he had sitting around his house, I suppose, that he'd moved there from our pantry. Stuff he had bought on his shopping trips, or stuff I had gotten for him to make here. Foods earmarked for The Pony.

He sent me a picture of his cake. Actually, he sent the picture to his MANAGER at work, by mistake. Then he sent it to me.

 

 

Just a homemade cake from a mix, to enjoy as a snack. That's BEFORE Farmer H helped himself to a slice. I can't guarantee how much is left. Even though he declared, "I only had ONE PIECE." You never know what SIZE the piece was with Farmer H.

The Pony went to work on Thursday. He was expecting the arrival of a new laptop he'd ordered. It required a signature for delivery by FedEx. Farmer H said he'd be there watching for it. So he could sign, and the package wouldn't be sent back.

You know where this is going, right? 

When Farmer H came home, I asked if the package was delivered. It was, around 1:00.

"Oh, you didn't have time to get your Senior Center lunch for $5 today?"

"No. I ate a piece of cake."

"The Pony's cake? That he just baked? That's not right! You can't just go helping yourself to anything you want in his house! IT'S NOT YOUR HOUSE! Now that he's living in it. You're the landlord! A landlord can't just come in and eat what he wants!"

"I sent The Pony a text saying I ate it."

"That's not the same. You should ASK before you eat it!"

"He was fine with it."

I don't think so. It's not like Farmer H was going to starve. The package got there at 1:00. That's barely past lunch time. He even said he got Burger King on his way home!

If The Pony was more motivated, I suspect he would change the locks.

The Incident Of The Sweet-Smelling Farmer In The Evening

Farmer H is trying my patience! A jury of my peers (Me, Myself, and I) is ready to throw the book at him!

 

Tuesday evening, I went into the master bathroom to do what a person normally does in a bathroom. And I DON'T mean take a 2-hour bath in a big triangle tub. Farmer H had just taken a bath, though only about a 20-minute version.

 

The master bathroom smelled so good! Not at all like a wet Farmer H. Delicious, almost. What was that aroma? So familiar. Something I like.

I was perched upon the throne, posed like The Thinker, contemplating this sweet-smelling vapor. THERE IT WAS! On the side of the big triangle tub. MY Vanilla Coconut Soap from Bath and Body Works! That is NOT bath soap for the common masses! It is my CHRISTMAS GIFT from my sister the ex-ex-mayor's wife! Every year she gives me a few bottles of fancy (to me) soap. 

 

I hoard my Christmas gift soaps under the kitchen cabinet. In fact, when Genius and Friend were last here, they immediately started foraging for any soaps they could scam for their apartment. When The Pony moved out, he also rummaged around under the sink, holding up assorted bottles, asking, "MOTHER MAY I take this soap with me?"

In fact, I told The Pony in no uncertain terms that he could NOT take my Vanilla Coconut Soap. I LOVE COCONUT. Vanilla, not so much. But the coconut can overpower it. I let The Pony take a Christmas soap. An actual scent reminiscent of Christmas. And I had let Genius take a berry-blend soap. I'd do anything for my boys. But not for Farmer H!

Farmer H can just use his bars of Irish Spring in the big triangle tub! He thinks not. He wants a liquid pump soap. So I told him to get one out of the hall towel closet. A run-of-the-mill common bottle of soap from Save A Lot, for the common people like HIM. 

Farmer H tried to tell me that he found my Vanilla Coconut Soap in the hall closet. I don't believe him. I keep them under the sink. I use them on the edge of the kitchen sink. Right now there's a foaming variety in a pinky-purpley bottle that I think is called Peach Bellini. It smells divine.

My special Christmas soaps are NOT meant for Farmer H's butt. Such an atrocity has not been observed in the Mansion since Farmer H sullied my beloved sweatshirt, Ol' Baby Blue, by holding it over his private area while traipsing through the house post-POOLIO, and being surprised by The Pony.

RumpusHolery Continues At The Gas Station Chicken Store

Chivalry is dead, and common courtesy lies a-mouldering in the grave.

Mrs. HM does not expect special treatment. She counts herself ahead when the young person who enters an establishment ahead of her does not slip through the portal like Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom, and then pull the door shut in Mrs. HM's face. Nor does she expect to be given upsies in line. But she DOES assume that customers will be taken in first-come, first-served order.

RumpusHoles have a different agenda. Like the Big Bubba who took my turn in the Gas Station Chicken Store on Monday.

I had walked in and was two steps from the counter with my two scratchers to cash in. Big Bubba, perhaps 30 years old, wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and square-toe cowboy boots, was coming up the soda fountain aisle. He had to be at least six steps away. Six of HIS giant steps. 

Big Bubba strode to the counter and put down his soda and got out his money. Of course I stopped in my tracks, lest the wake of air following him knock me over. I stepped back by the stack of Michelob Light cases, to let Big Bubba complete his transaction. He was paying for his soda, and for gas.

You'd think that wouldn't take long at all. But you'd be wrong. Big Bubba took his red tickets for the gas drawing, and STOOD AT THE COUNTER while tearing them off one-by-one. THEN he walked past me to the collection box, LEAVING HIS SODA AND TICKET STUBS ON THE COUNTER. 

The cashier was fed up with Big Bubba's antics. Her eyes met mine through the plexiglass.

"Are you ready?"

"Sure."

I stepped up. Made a big to-do about trying to see the scratchers in the glass case under Big Bubba's soda and scattered ticket stubs. I actually needed to look, to see if the MO MONEY MONDAY new tickets were in the case. They were not.

Big Bubba came back. Rather than say, "Oh, sorry," and move his stuff out of the way of ME, the next paying customer who should have been ahead of him... he started quizzing the cashier.

"I just put the wrong tickets in the box. I was supposed to put the other ones. Can you get them out?"

"No."

"I guess it won't matter? Because there are numbers on both sets. So I will still have the numbers to show it was mine if it's drawn."

"Yes, you should keep your ticket numbers."

"But will that be all right? To have the wrong ones in the box? Will they still get drawn?"

"I don't know. You can always come back and see the number that was drawn on Monday, and check your numbers."

"But will they still be okay?"

"I really don't know. You'd have to ask Man Owner about that."

Sweet Gummi Mary! That guy just wouldn't give up! I'm surprised he didn't ask her to burp him and wipe his butt! Once your transaction is over, it's OVER! Get back in line and wait if you have questions about YOUR mistake!

I wish I'd been mobile enough to keep him from cutting in on my rightful place in line. And that I'd had a string of 20 one-dollar tickets to check, none of which I'd bothered to scrape off the scanning code area...

Farmer H Brings A New Meaning To "SMOKED HAM"

Farmer H still has that buddy up at the Storage Units who brings excess foodstuffs left over from the program his wife runs to distribute food to those who can use it. He hasn't brought the regular boxes of food in quite a while, but this past weekend, he brought Nutter Butter Cookies, and packages of sliced ham.

 

Farmer H has two 16-oz Family Packs of Nutter Butters. They have not yet been opened. He also has two packs of smoked ham slices. Not like a holiday ham. Just like lunchmeat. I didn't see the packaging, but I'm assuming each one was a pound. They are round slices in clear plastic. Farmer H opened one, and we put it in two Chinese Tupperware containers.

Here's the thing. Farmer H had the ham in The Original FRIG over in the BARn. He brought the two packs over on Sunday afternoon. He carried them in and set them on the cutting block. Then put one in FRIG II, and cut open the other pack to have a sandwich, and put in the Chinese Tupperware.

Sunday night, I found THIS on the cutting block:

 

I have posed it here on the kitchen counter, but it was found on the cutting block, next to the bag of medical supplies that we'd brought back from our CasinoPalooza trip. At first, I thought it must be a fake Mucinex tablet. Like maybe Farmer H had take some with him and it got shuffled around in our stuff on the counter in the hotel room

It was definitely squished, and I was planning to throw it away. I turned it over to see what was on the other side:

 

That's not fake Mucinex! That's NICOTINE GUM! Oh, sure. Right away, you're going to assume it's OURS, due to being EXPIRED already, heh, heh. But let me assure you, nobody in this household has ever had a need for nicotine gum. We are not smokers.

Admittedly, I have taken a puff or two when goaded by my Cuba MO teaching buddies during poker games. But I never smoked a whole cigarette. Definitely didn't need any nicotine gum to break a habit. Nor has Farmer H. Nor The Pony. 

I might have been persuaded that a loose, attempted-shoplifting tablet could have fallen into the bag that The Pony brought out of Walmart when he bought our first aid supplies. Except for that expiration date.

I asked Farmer H WHY there was nicotine gum on the cutting block.

"I don't know. Unless it was the ham. Maybe it was stuck to the ham. I don't know nobody who would need it except my buddy who gave me the ham."

Well. That is curious indeed. With ham you get nicotine.

It Wasn't Just Me

Friday evening, Farmer H brought home Subway for supper. It's the least he could do. After all, each month I cut out food coupons for him from that annoying, fall-apart, slick loose-leaf advertising thingy that gets stuffed all willy-nilly into EmBee. Sometimes it tears apart when I rip it from her cylindrical innards. Farmer H usually prefers the Burger King coupons, or maybe KFC. Now and then he'll use the Hardee's coupons, or Dairy Queen, or Steak n Shake. Rarely Subway.

I guess this deal was too good to pass up, or else Farmer H was just yearning for a Subway Sandwich. He usually gets the Cold Cut Trio. This time, he got the chicken. I forget what it's called. It's those slabs of chicken sitting in some liquid under the lid of that metal container. I used to get it. Not bad, depending on what you put on it. Anyhoo... I had the Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki. It's probably been over a year since I had a Subway sandwich. The Pony was not a fan, so we partook of other take-out options while he was here.

When I bit into my Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki on wheat, I was not pleased. The sandwich-maker had put all the pickles in one place! WHO DOES THAT? They're sliced pickles. Surely, a normal person would scatter them across the sandwich. Not dump a stack of about 10 slices in one bite area. The coupon was for BUY ONE FOOTLONG, GET ONE FREE. Quite a deal. You might think the pickle problem was only on a six-inch section of the Subway. But no. The exact same pickle distribution was found on the other portion.

Not only was my pickling suspect, but the taste of my sandwich was off. Like maybe they'd tweaked the sauce. It was not just the pickle/no-pickle flavor throwing off the taste. Oh, I still ate my sandwich! I just figured maybe my taste was off, perhaps not remembering what that sandwich actually tasted like after so long.

Farmer H carried his paper plate into the kitchen to throw away.

 

"That wasn't as good as usual. I don't know what it was. Kind of like the chicken wasn't no good."

 

Let the record show that our sandwiches had DIFFERENT kinds of chicken. Mine was in cubes, his in planks. I don't think it was the chicken. I think maybe it was a new additive or cheaper ingredients in the bread or chicken or sauce. Farmer H also had cheese on his sandwich, but I take mine without. 

 

Something is amiss in Subway. I don't know if it's all over, or just local. As far as I know, the owner is still the same. Maybe it's something with the supply chain that has altered the standard ingredients. We may give it one more try, since there's another BOGO coupon. But it will be Subway's last chance.

Pic To Prove It Happened

Remember when The Pony got his new refrigerator delivered to Pony House? And Farmer H installed the ice maker, and the first batch of ice came out BROWN? Here's the proof:

 

 

The Pony dumped it in the sink. I'm pretty sure he dumped the second batch as well, even though it came out clear.

I'm glad the water line has cleared itself now that The Pony is there using city water. He'll be needing that ice soon enough, when he returns to work after his mandatory five days off at his 1-year anniversary.

The weather's not getting any cooler for a while...

The Pony Gets Spooked: Part 5, The After-CasinoPalooza Knocking

The previous, perhaps-paranormal, incidents that spooked The Pony happened the week he moved into Pony House, before our recent CasinoPalooza. This one was on the morning after he returned. I got a text at 10:53 when it happened, but sadly for The Pony, I had fallen asleep sitting on the short couch, and didn't see it until a half hour later.

 

"Another knock! This one was either exterior wall, or *inside the wardrobe from Grandma*"

 

"Yikes!"

 

"Pretty sure it was the wardrobe."

 

"We used to hear footsteps walking across Grandma's bedroom. Grandpa thought it was a burglar one day when he was home for lunch. He even went upstairs with a baseball bat to check on it. Nothing there."

 

I did not get any response from The Pony after that text. As I type this on Friday at noon-thirty, I'm pretty sure he's okay, and just using his last day off to play computer games.

The Pony Gets Spooked: Part 4, The Knocking

Tuesday morning, The Pony came to the Mansion so he could ride to CasinoPalooza with us. While gathering up items to take out to A-Cad, he mentioned that he had no trouble getting up and getting ready on time. He heard a KNOCK somewhere in the vicinity of the living room of Pony House.

 

"How many times did it knock?"

 

"Just one."

 

"It was probably them squirrels running around on the roof."

 

"No, Dad. This was a knock."

 

"Or the wires blowing against the side of the house."

 

"No. I know the sound of that wire that hits the house outside my bedroom wall. This was on the inside. One knock. From the living room."

 

"On that wall where your TV is? Like where you heard the sound that you hear in the theater before a movie starts?"

 

"It wasn't exactly on the living room wall that I could tell. But it was somewhere in the house, on the other side of my bedroom wall."

 

Surely there's a logical explanation...

The Pony Gets Spooked: Part 3, The Sounding

When The Pony was picking up more of his stuff at the Mansion on Sunday, I asked if he had watched Saturday Night Live. He's not a regular watcher, but we had seen parts of it on his last Saturday night in the Mansion.

 

"No. But that reminds me... Something really weird happened last night. I was watching TV in my bedroom when I heard a noise in the living room--"

 

"Like something crashing? Like out here?"

 

"No. It wasn't a crash. You know that sound when a movie is coming on? Before the credits or the movie starts? THAT'S what I heard!"

"Did you leave the TV on in the living room?"

"No. It was off. But I thought maybe my bedroom remote might have messed with the living room TV. It's just on the other side of the wall."

"Did you go look and see if it was on?"

"NO! And it wasn't on this morning when I went out there."

"What time did that movie-starting sound happen?"

"I don't know. Sometime between 10:00 and 1:00. I'm pretty sure it was just my remote..."

"Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. The more I hear of things happening in your house, the more I think things are happening in your house!"

Still. That's probably a logical explanation. Although from the time The Pony wakes up, he turns on the TV in his room. So I guess the remote doesn't work through the wall in the morning. Only at night.

The Pony Gets Spooked: Part 2, The Glowing

The Pony has been having a heyday ordering food at Pony House. I suppose he really missed having that option, after living in an actual city during four years of college. On Thursday, he ordered Chinese from a restaurant we used to go to when Genius was a toddler. I don't remember ever taking The Pony there. It's just up the street from Casey's and the mechanic shop that repairs all the LLVs (Long Life Vehicles) for the post office.

 

"I warmed up my Chinese on Friday night. It was kind of late. I turned off the kitchen light when I was done, to go to bed, and I saw something strange."

 

 

"I was standing in the middle of my living room, behind the couch, and I saw that there was a glow coming from my bedroom. It was on the bedroom door frame. Coming from inside. Kind of a purple glow."

"OOH! That's creepy!"

"Yeah. But then I remembered that I have that fan thing to cool my laptop. The one you set the laptop on. And it has that feature where the lights come on around it, and run through a pattern of different colors. I had left it sitting on my bed. So that was making the light."

 

"Well. At least that explains it."

 

TOMORROW: Part 3 of The Spooking of The Pony

The Pony Gets Spooked: Part 1, The Crashing And The Lighting

The Pony has been getting used to living by himself again. Getting used to living in his new, 100-year-old house. When he came home to the Mansion on Sunday, I asked if he was scared being there alone at night.

 

"No. Not really."

 

"Do you hear noises?"

 

"Well, there HAVE been a couple things happen. But it's probably nothing. You remember that day we had the storms? Dad had already gone home. I heard a loud noise over on the other side of the house. I went to Bedroom 2, to see if something might have crashed through the roof. It was still daylight. The bedroom looked okay. Dad has his stuff set up in there right now, like a workshop. Nothing had fallen out of place. 

 

Later that night, I saw a glow. I wondered why my hallway was kind of lit up. I went to look, and saw that the light was on in Bedroom 2. I didn't remember if I had turned that light off when I was in there looking to see what made the noise earlier in the day. So it was probably nothing. I guess I just forgot." 

"Yeah. Probably..."

TOMORROW: Part 2 of The Spooking of The Pony

Deleting Cookies Didn't Cross The Pony's Mind

When The Pony moved (mostly) out of the Mansion last Sunday, he took some items from the pantry. Namely, his bazillion spices and sauces and oils. Also some things I'd bought for him when he came home from college, that he kept meaning to use, until he got a job and had no time. Like packets of instant noodle dishes, and brownie mix. 

 

There was also a packet of cookie mix. The Pony returned to the Mansion yesterday, to get a few more clothes, and mentioned that he had made the cookie mix.

 

"It was expired, which is not surprising. But apparently that did not affect the cookies!"

 

"HOW old was it?"

 

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure it expired in SOME November..."

 

"What ingredients did you have to add?"

 

"Just some butter and water. It was really dry. So instead of using 2 tablespoons of water, I had to use 4. It looked okay after that. They turned out fine."

This appears to be the first dough, the dry form.

 

 

Then the moister version, after extra water. I'm surprise Pony the Butterton didn't use more butter...

 

The Pony blobbed the dough onto his cookie sheet. He's a blobber!

 

Checked on them in his FREE (courtesy of former Back-Creek Neighbor Bev) oven.

 

I'm not so sure The Pony waited for them to cool before strapping on the old feedbag!

 

"Did you add more chocolate chips to the cookie dough?"

 

"Yes."

 

"They look very chippy for a mix! Is the reason I asked."

 

"Yep! I added a bunch!"

 

Good thing he had several bags of chocolate chips that he brought from the Mansion.

Curb Non-Service

Stop me if you've heard this one. Heh, heh! AS IF you could stop Mrs. HM from prattling on and re-telling a story. Sometimes I'm as bad as Mr. S at the lunch table during the Semi Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank.

Anyhoo... I forget if I told you about what happened last week during our stormy time. The power had gone off twice at the Mansion, for a couple minutes, and then an hour later for about 10 minutes. Thank the Gummi Mary, it came back on. This was the day before the tornado in the forecast.

Anyhoo... I found a parking spot in front of Casey's. Several parking spots! How lucky! I was gathering my winners to cash in when I sensed somebody at T-Hoe's window. It was the cashier who witnessed me getting robbed by the Country Mart lottery machine a while back.

"Oh, hi."

"I just came out to tell you that we can't sell anything."

"My power was off twice already!"

"Ours is back now, but our computers won't reboot. So we can't sell anything."

"Thank you for coming out to tell me!"

"You're welcome. I just wanted to let you know."

What great customer service! Or NON-service.

I felt bad yesterday when I went in Casey's, and that gal was working. She had a bandage on her left hand and wrist. Like a gauze bandage, but with some of that stretchy stuff to hold it on.

"Oh, did you hurt your hand?"

"Yes!"

"What happened?"

"Well, I managed to pour boiling water over it. They say it has 1st and 2nd-degree burns."

 

"Oh, no! That makes me hurt just to think about it! I hope you get to feeling better."

"Thanks. You have a nice day."

"You too."

Poor gal. Imagine how hard it would be to come to work with your hand bandaged and hurting. Hard to drive. Hard to count back money. Hard to tear off scratchers. 

I almost felt guilty for being a customer, but she was as nice as you could want.

I KNEW I Shouldn't Have Switched Lines

I hit the afternoon rush in Country Mart on Friday. You might think it would have been matriarchs loading up on fixin's for Easter Dinner. It was not. It was a couple of old ladies with kind-of full carts, and men with single or a handful of items. Not even a cart.

Of course nobody was in line at the two open registers when I wheeled by with my cart/walker, on the way to get a 3-pack of Puffs With Lotion. I passed two ladies, who were apparently on their way to a line. When I came back they were both waiting. 

I chose the line with two customers, rather than the line with three. Of course it was slow-moving. I switched. It worked out time-wise, but you'll never guess whose line I was in...

THE "HM IS 65-YEARS-OLD" CHECKER!

Seriously. I should have stayed in the young man's line. All he has ever done is told me he couldn't ring up Farmer H's Wild Turkey 101 because it would shut down all the registers in the store.

Anyhoo... where does this gal get off, proclaiming me 65 YEARS OLD for the second time? She's no spring chicken! She has a Beatles helmet of white hair herself. I don't think she likes me. Every time I get in line, she's talking about GETTING OFF.

"I only have one minute until I'm off!"

"Huh. I always seem to be here when you're just about to clock out."

"Yes."

"So you should actually feel HAPPY every time you see me, because it means you're done working." I did NOT add a "Heh, heh" after that comment.

Old Lady Checker agreed with me, and hollered at the gal waiting nearby, "I'm off in one minute!"

"I know. I'm just waiting for my drawer to be counted."

Surely it's just a coincidence that she's always leaving when I get in line...

A 14-Month Party In The Back

I have not visited Terrible Cuts since February, 2021. That's 14 months of growth for my Lovely Lady-Mullet. That's a very long time to allow a Party in the Back. The Business in the Front has been cut short several times. I take the scissors from the bathroom drawer, and butcher away when my bangs become annoying.

To be fair, The Pony DID try to trim my Lovely Lady-Mullet twice. On the back porch, with a pair of orange-handled knock-off FISKARS, supposedly adhering to the instructions I gave him second-hand after watching a video about undercutting on YouTube. You might imagine the results...

Actually, The Pony's maiden effort did not turn out too bad. It was the second attempt that was atrocious. It was almost as if The Pony DIDN'T ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT HELPING PEOPLE! 

Anyhoo... with our upcoming CasinoPalooza, I figure it's time to make myself more "socially acceptable" if I'm going to be allowed to be seen with my sister the ex-ex-mayor's wife. We won't discuss the color of the Lovely Lady-Mullet at this juncture...

Waiting For The Other Horseshoe To Drop

This is the time of day when I miss The Pony the most. It's 6:20 as I type this, and I'm used to keeping one ear on my cell phone, for the text from The Pony saying that he's clocked out, and on the way home. That would be a signal to start some supper, and run a bath in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom. Now I have nothing to look forward to! Just another evening with Farmer H in the recliner, watching Gunsmoke or Cheyenne or The Waltons. Loudly.

I am glad The Pony has this week off. Especially today, Wednesday. We had such bad storms in the forecast that ALL THE LOCAL SCHOOLS CANCELED CLASSES! Just because there might be tornadoes during the time school let out. 

Sweet Gummi Mary! Where was this policy back when I was teaching??? I got stuck there one afternoon due to an ill-timed snowstorm. The buses couldn't run. That meant the teachers couldn't leave. Somebody's gotta supervise those kiddos! Back then, after an extra hour of this forced captivity, our counselor told me, "You have a long way to drive. Why don't you go pick up your boys and start home? We can manage."

WooHoo! Wasn't that sweet of her? We were not even remotely good friends. But she had common sense. When I made my way to Elementia to get 5th-grade Genius, and 2nd-grade Pony, only one of them could be found. Genius was missing! Turns out he was given the privilege of shoveling snow at the side of the building. Without gloves.

Anyhoo... back then, I had a head start, and it still took me an HOUR to get home, rather than the usual 25 minutes. The Athletic Director had a 4WD Bronco, and drove some kids home (with parent permission) because nobody was able to come get them. The cooks had churned out hamburgers to feed supper to the remainders of the student body. Thank the Gummi Mary, nobody had to stay overnight.

Today was just rain and hail and lightning and possible tornadoes. But if the timing was right (or wrong), then those kids would have been kept on school premises until it was safe to let them go.

Turns out we only had heavy rain. I'm sure some people's heads are exploding at the missed day of school. Better safe than sorry.

I hope The Pony gets clarification on his safety procedures when he goes back to work after his time off. I don't want him flying around like the cow in Twister.

A Funny Thing Happened During The Return Of The Pony

Never a dull moment when The Pony is present. When he returned to the Mansion for his soaps and razors (and a shower, since he was already here, with all his beauty paraphernalia available), we had a bit of excitement.

 

The Pony arrived between 9:00 and 9:30. He was soon in the shower, making himself more presentable. Afterwards, he packed up some things from his room, and from Genius's room, where he'd kept some hanging clothes.

 

It was between 10:30 and 11:00 when I was sitting on the short couch watching reruns of The Middle on the FF network, and The Pony was standing by the railing around the 13 rail-less basement steps chatting with me. 

 

The Pony is always manipulating something. I think the Fidget Spinner was made just for the likes of him, even though he never had one. Anyhoo... this time he was holding a short rod of some kind, with about a dozen plastic hangers hanging on it. He was shuffling those hangers around mindlessly while talking.

 

"I'm going to load up my stuff and go to Walmart before I go back home. I think I'll text Dad to see if he wants to go for lunch. I think he likes it when I do that."

 

"Yes. He does like that. I'm going to miss you SO MUCH! I kept thinking about you all night."

 

CLUNK

 

"What was THAT?"

 

"I don't know. It was definitely in the bathroom! I thought you got your stuff out."

 

"I DID. I'll go look. Oh. It was a shampoo bottle. Not even one near where I took my stuff. I didn't touch this one."

 

"Huh. Sounds like SOMETHING wants you to stay..."

 

Yeah. Can't explain that. It had been at least 15-30 minutes since The Pony had been in the bathroom. That night, while again sitting on the short couch, I heard something fall over in the kitchen. Never found anything out of place.

The Return Of The Prodigal Pony

The Pony couldn't wait to move out, to spread his wings, to make his way in the world without the albatross and millstone of Farmer H and me, respectively, hanging from his neck, dragging him into the abyss of uncoolness.

HE WAS BACK AT THE MANSION BY 9:15 THE NEXT MORNING!

"Starting over. I'm gonna shower when I'm over, just since I left all my soaps and razors. Then I'll pack up a bit more, steal some ice water, and go to Walmart for a curtain rod and stuff while Dad works."

Wow. That was only 16 hours that he was on his own!

The Pony DID forget to pack his soaps and razors on Sunday. And his own ice-maker made brown ice, due to the water pipes needing to be flushed out since the water service had just been connected. AND he loves our fresh well water. Having lived just down the street from Pony House, in my $17,000 house, I know that city water is not so flavorful as well water. And that sometimes on weekends, the water is brown anyway. I guess too many people doing their laundry, getting the old pipes all stirred up. I knew not to wash whites on the weekend.

Anyhoo... I was happy to see The Pony again! I didn't even cry this time when he left.

Farmer H Is The Landlord From Not-Heaven

The Pony loaded up most of his stuff on Sunday afternoon, and moved out of the Mansion and into Pony House. There are still some items there that need fine-tuning, but Pony House is basically a safe, livable house, suitable for inhabitants. 

"You know your dad, Pony. Some ground rules need to be discussed. He has no business coming and going as he pleases, now that you will be living there. He'll have a fit, I'm sure. But you two need to reach an agreement about what times he can come in there and finish up."

"I know. I'm kind of wanting to get used to my house during my week off."

"That's the thing. He will want to continue his schedule. Not because he has other things to do, but because it's HIS SCHEDULE. Just like him eating anything that's UNDER HIS ROOF."

When Farmer H came through the kitchen door, The Pony was in the living room packing some stuff. I tried to break the news to Farmer H first.

"We need to talk."

"What have I done wrong now?"

"Pony will be getting used to living in his house this week. So you can't just go barging in whenever you feel like it."

"I ain't waitin' till noon to go work on it!"

"Why do you have to be there early? The Pony gets ONE WEEK off per year, and should be able to spend it how he likes. Moving in, playing computer games, sleeping. Whatever."

"FINE! I don't need to go over there at all! That's fine."

This was accompanied by much arm-waving and drama. Because Farmer H is the master of passive-aggressive shenanigans when a calm discussion is needed. The Pony made his exit to load more stuff in his car. Then remained quiet when he came back to pack more.

"I'm sick of you acting this way every time you don't get your way! This should be a happy time, The Pony's house is ready, and it's a milestone for him to move in. Pony. What would be a good time for Dad to work on your house tomorrow?"

"I'd say not before 9:00."

"That's reasonable, right? You can get there at 9:00?"

"I don't have to go all week! Do what you want to do with your time off! I still have a lot of work to do there! But don't worry. I won't go there this week."

"Stop it! This is stupid. What's wrong with going there at 9:00?"

"I just don't want you getting there at 7:00 or 7:30, Dad."

"I don't go that early. I usually get there at 7:30."

"I've seen you leave here at 6:45! It takes you 45 minutes to get to my house???"

"No. I have to stop for my donuts..."

"See? I just don't want you there so early, before I get up and shower."

"I still have to fix your shower!"

"Good thing I have another one."

"I never hooked that one up!"

"What? I thought you had it all done."

"No. Not that one. And the other needs to make sure the caulk set up. I guess it might be ready. It has to dry for 24-48 hours. I guess you can pull the tape off, and see if it held. I just did it on Thursday."

"THIS IS SUNDAY! So it should have been enough time..."

"Okay. So you two agree that 9:00 is okay? Pony, you might just have to take a bath and not a shower yet."

Seriously. I don't know WHY Farmer H starts a project and jumps to another one. You'd think he would get one room ready, and move to the next. Especially after gettting all the plumbing done, and the flooring, and those general items all the rooms needed first. But then SWEET GUMMI MARY, pick a room and finish it out!!!

It's not fair to The Pony to invade his privacy like it's not really his house.

The Minister And Ministress Of Misinformation

Farmer H and I were planning to attend the yearly dinner hosted by our credit union. My sister the ex-ex-mayor's wife and the ex-ex-mayor also belong. They said they were going. I decided I did not feel like sitting like a packed sardine, just for a free meal and a chance at door prizes, and The Pony had to wait at Pony House for the internet installer. So Farmer H went by himself.

I had asked Sis a few days ago if Farmer H could sit with them. You know, since he's such a shrinking violet and has trouble making friends... Sis said they would look for him.

Anyhoo... off Farmer H went at 5:15, for the event which started at 6:00. It's about a 25-minute drive. He sent me a text. 

6:07 "Your Sis and Mayor are no show as of now"

 

6:07 "They said they were going."

 

6:09 "I am going to the auction"

 

6:09 "Not eating?"

 

6:10 "Whatever. I'll text them." 

So I sent a text to Sis.

6:12 "Farmer H has been waiting at CU dinner. Said since you're not there, he's going to the auction. So don't look for him, or save him a seat."

Sis replied.

6:15 "We are here. I am sitting by him right now. Ex-Ex-Mayor told me it started at 6:30!"

6:16 "Then Farmer H is a liar! He texted me two minutes before I sent yours."

Much later, more info was revealed.

 

7:52 "We had just sat down in our seats when you text me about not saving him a seat."

 

7:53 "He didn't answer me when I texted about him leaving and not eating. I told him I'd let you know. NOW Pony has texted me that Farmer H is at Pony House!"

 

7:55 "Well anyway he wasn't lying when he said we weren't there because we just got there when you text me. Yeah it is over. We are on our way home."

 

7:59 "Maybe he's on his way to the auction, which is probably almost over by now."

 

8:21 "OMG! I just came out of the bathroom, and Farmer H was SITTING IN THE LIVING ROOM!"

 

Seriously. I could have died from a heart attack! I'm pretty sure Farmer H is trying to kill me. 

 

If he and Sis had just been more clear about what they were trying to tell me, it would have been much easier. Farmer H could have said,

"I am going to eat and then go to the auction. OR "They just got here." OR "I'm at Pony House, headed home, no auction."

And Sis could have said,

"We just got here. Thought it was later."

I am not a psychic when it comes to mindreading these misinformers!

The Pony Forsakes The Mansion For Greener Pastures

He's leaving. He's really leaving! The Pony is moving out of the Mansion, and into Pony House. For the past two days, he's loaded up boxes into his Rogue. The furniture has been delivered. The water bill transferred to his name. On Saturday evening, the internet installer is coming. I'm pretty sure The Pony says his new internet will be 4000 times faster than mine.

 

I could hardly sleep Thursday night, thinking that it might be the last "normal" night that The Pony was snoozing under my (meaning FARMER H's) roof. Indeed. He told me Friday evening that he'd probably be back Saturday night, unless the internet installation took a long time. But that his plan was to be moved out Sunday, to begin living his life on his own in Pony House.

[ ]

That's a moment of blog silence while I tear up and sniffle. It's so hard to lose The Pony again. I was thrilled to have him back, safe and sound, when the OU campus shut down after the 2020 spring break, during THE VIRUS, robbing The Pony and his cronies of goodbyes and graduation. Such a relief not to worry about him being 9 hours away.

Now I can worry about him being 20 minutes away...

THIS Is What I Try To Avoid

It's ne'er-do-wells like this that drive me crazy! They're the reason I prefer to park on the left and of a parking row, or next to a handicap walkway, or off to the side where few people park. I was parked just fine when I went IN Country Mart on Wednesday. It's when I came OUT that I observed my worst nightmare:

 

That's T-Hoe on the right. You can tell by all the dirt! I had just put my groceries in T-Hoe's rear, then paused to take a picture to document this IDIOT who made sure I couldn't comfortably re-enter T-Hoe. It may LOOK wide enough, but that's not even enough room to push the cart back to the building. I had to go on the other side of the IDIOT.

 

Yeah. Plenty of room in that space. No need for the IDIOT to cheat over in case of a close-parker, due to the walkway here, for the handicap space out of frame to the left. Nobody was going to get too close to the IDIOT and prevent the door from opening. So no reason at all to park like an IDIOT.

When I got there and parked T-Hoe, a NORMAL PERSON was next to me. Still, I cheated over a bit, just in case a different car was parked there when I came out. Good thing I did! As you can see from both photos, my cheating-over was reasonable. About the amount of space where the shadow of this IDIOT's car falls. Still room on the other side of T-Hoe for the person on the right of me to get a door open all the way.

I had to hoist myself onto T-Hoe's running board with the door open only one notch. I COULD have let T-Hoe's door rest against that IDIOT's car, except it wouldn't. It automatically closed back to the first notch. Heavy doors has T-Hoe. It was really hard to grab the leg of my pants and pull my knee back enough to get my left foot in.

A less tranquil shopper might have KEYED THAT IDIOT'S CAR! But that's not Mrs. HM's style. She suffers in silence, except for rassen'-frassen under her breath once the doors are closed.

The more I think about it after the fact, it would have been grand fun to go to the service desk, and have the license number announced so the driver could come outside and move the car so I could get in!

Part 4 Of The Heat-Fueled Kentucky-Derby-Contending Trotter Mrs. HM

After leaving the Gas Station Chicken store without purchasing anything, in a fit of claustrophobia, after being line-jumped, I headed for Orb K. They sell scratchers too, you know! I got my favorite parking space next to the handicap walkway (it's not a handicap space, which is on the other side of the walkway).

I had just hobbled up the concrete ramp, and taken about three steps down the sidewalk toward the door, when all Not-Heaven broke loose. Two screaming little demons kids ran up behind me, squealing and elbowing each other to get ahead. They were around 5-6 years old. The older little girl was arm-checking the little boy. I had turned to see what was going on, lest I be crashed into and felled like a giant redwood. Sure, those kids would bounce off my ample rumpus, but their momentum would upset my equilibrium.

The sidewalk is narrow just in front of the door. There's usually stuff piled there for sale, like chunks of firewood, or a display of windshield washer fluid jugs. And there's a support pole for the little roof. Heh, heh! Those kids funneled themselves right into the impassible pole/display area. I was on the edge of the sidewalk, hoping not to be knocked off the curb. The kids' dad yelled at them to settle down and listen. Good luck with that...

Inside, I discovered that I was 9th in line! What kind of people get out on a Sunday afternoon to stand in line in a convenience store??? At least they have a corral area to funnel the customers. You have to wind through candy shelves to await your turn at the next open register. They have three registers, but only the middle and right side were manned, with woman clerks.

My turn was with the middle clerk, a young gal I'd seen there once or twice. She was polite, and scanned my two winners that totaled $23. I asked for my tickets by the numbers assigned to them on the scratcher display board. I got two $5 tickets, two $3 tickets, one $2 ticket, and two Cash4Life with Easy Match, which are $3 each. That's $24 total. I had the extra one-dollar bill in my hand to pay.

Young Gal scanned my tickets.

"I owe you $6."

"No. I owe YOU $1."

Young Gal looked confused. She spread out the tickets. I repeated what I'd asked for, explaining the dollar amounts.

"Oh. It's the Cash4Life. I didn't do the Easy Match."

"Well, I want the Easy Match." (I'm done accepting what clerks want to give me after they make a mistake!)

Young Gal set those tickets aside, and printed me two with the Easy Match option.

"Okay. Now I owe you $4."

"NO. I owe YOU $1. Look. I got two $5s, two $3s, one $2, and $6 on the Easy Match. That adds up to $24. I cashed in $23 in winners. So I owe you $1."

Young Gal looked at the tickets I had sorted out on the counter. Confusedly. She checked the register receipt. 

"OH! One of the $5s didn't scan."

"See? I saved you money!"

"I'm not used to working up here."

Seriously. Just say 'Thanks' and accept it. Don't make excuses! Young Gal was perfectly polite, but I suppose I wanted some VALidation for being honest and not ripping her off for $5 that she'd come up short on HEAVILY REGULATED LOTTERY.

 

I related the incident to The Pony and Farmer H.

 

"Dad, you wouldn't have told her she charged you too little."

 

"Maybe not. After I tell them once, I figure it's THEIR problem."

 

"That's how you get your bargains at Lowe's!"

 

"They should know how to do their job."

 

Farmer H has a point. But I'll still try to explain it, as long as they're trying, and not rude about it.

Part 3 Of The Heat-Fueled Kentucky-Derby-Contending Trotter Mrs. HM

After squeezing my knee into T-Hoe, courtesy of the Close-Parker, I drove through Farmer H's pharmacy lot and into the parking lot of the Gas Station Chicken Store. Upon entry, I saw two women standing to my left, at the little lottery station between the two bathroom doors. They were filling out the draw ticket thingies where you pick your own numbers, then hand it to the cashier to scan in to print your ticket.

I got in line behind a man, who was in line behind a woman currently paying. Another woman was on the other side, where I used to stand after procuring my delicious 44 oz Diet Coke. So I knew there were three people ahead of me.

The lady was buying a scratcher and gas and some kind of snack. She asked for a bag. While I was waiting, one of the Draw Ticket Ladies turned around. She paused a moment, then walked up in front of me to the waiting man, put her hand on his shoulder, and said,

"Well hi there!"

He looked at her kind of funny, then said, "Hello."

And SHE CONTINUED TO STAND THERE! She was obviously cutting line! I don't think they knew each other. They didn't make small talk about old times. Draw Ticket Lady DID comment on the picture taped to the plexiglass, which was an old white man with a mask under his chin.

"I wonder what his picture is up there for."

The Lady in Waiting on the other side of the line said, "Maybe he won the red ticket drawing for gas."

 

Draw Ticket Lady said, "Maybe he didn't pay for his gas." 

Man Waiting said, "You gotta pay for your gas before you pump it."

Which is not correct at the Gas Station Chicken Store. They let you pump first. They have really good cameras outside! But they say the police don't really want to chase down the gas thieves because they get released as soon as they haul them in. It's a low priority call. So the owners have said they put up the pictures, hoping somebody knows them and will tell them. So in case they just forgot to pay, they'll come in, or if they don't want the embarrassment.

Anyhoo, I didn't see anything written on that old man's picture. It was such a closeup that I couldn't tell if it was taken inside or outside. But on the wall by the door was a picture of a young black man by the gas pumps, with a note asking "Have you seen this man? Drove off without paying for gas."

 

Now I was not fourth in line, but FIFTH! Ain't that a bite in the rumpus? And to make matters worse, three men came in, one after the other, and I saw another car pulling up to the pumps. The Gas Station Chicken Store is tight quarters! We were already taking up the room by the door. Those guys had to go down the third aisle to get in line, because I was blocking the middle aisle, and the waiters in front of me were blocking the soda fountain aisle. When yet ANOTHER dude came in the door, I'd had enough.

 

"It's too crowded in here for me! I'll go somewhere else today."

 

Out the door I went, fit to be tied over that line-cutter. I took my business to Orb K. Where my day did not get any better...

 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Part 2 Of The Heat-Fueled Kentucky-Derby-Contending Trotter Mrs. HM

I went back to Country Mart at 10:46 on Tuesday morning to get my $8 refund from the unable-to-process-draw-tickets lottery machines. The little man who helped me saw me park, and came over to T-Hoe's door. He chatted with me on the way in, picked up a cart to return inside, and took me over to the service  desk. The lady working there was helping someone else on the other side, but came right over to me when Little Man Mike told her I was there.

"Now what did you say you wanted from the ticket machine?"

"I tried to get a PowerBall ticket from the left machine, and two Cash4Life with Easy Match from the right."

"Okay." She printed me those tickets from a terminal she had right there behind the service desk.

"Thank you. That's what I wanted. Are the machines working okay today?"

"Yes. The paper to print the tickets was jammed in both of them."

"Oh. I thought maybe the paper ran out, from all the PowerBall tickets people have been buying. Thank you for getting my tickets."

I must say, I was a bit surprised she printed those tickets. I was expecting a refund. Which I would have promptly put back in the machines anyway...

____________________________________________________________________

Anyhoo... back to my terrible Monday.

I went from Country Mart to Casey's. For once, there were only two cars parked in front, all the way down to the left side. I parked in front of the door, with a regular spot and a handicap spot on my right, and four empty spaces on my left.

Inside, I saw the clerk was the tall lady who had been buying tickets at Country Mart's right machine while I was losing my $2 in the left.

"Hi. Country Mart's machine stole my money, so I'm buying tickets here!" I handed her a $20 winner to cash in.

"I saw that!"

"It was only eight dollars, and I'll get it back tomorrow. So no big deal."

I completed my transaction and started back to T-Hoe. Another customer had come in while I was doing business. And now I saw that he had parked RIGHT BESIDE T-HOE! As in close. We were still both within the parking lines. I had cheated over to the right, to leave more room for T-Hoe's gargantuan door to open. This guy had done the same thing. For what reason I don't know. He was slim. Nothing else was parked on his other side.

So I had to only open T-Hoe's door to the first notch. I could hoist myself up on the running board, sore shoulder and all, but getting my left knee to bend and get my foot inside was an issue. I struggled with it a bit, and then got inside by pulling on my pants leg, and enduring the over-bending of the knee.

I was sure my day could only get better from there, but I was incorrect...

TO BE CONTINUED...

If Mrs HM Was Hot-To-Trot Yesterday, Then TODAY She Could Win The Kentucky Derby!

Sweet Gummi Mary! As if yesterday wasn't ire-inducing enough, what with the missing item in my package having been replaced by a cheaper item nothing like it... TODAY makes that issue look like a pea slept on under a stack of mattresses by a non-princess!

 

The package issue was Saturday. As I type this, it is Sunday night, and I am still fuming six hours after the "incidents," and having already shared my tale of woe with Farmer H AND The Pony.

Everywhere I went, there were problems. In fact, it's going to take multiple posts to do them all justice. And I do mean ALL. Save A Lot, Country Mart, Casey's, the Gas Station Chicken Store, and Orb K. What are the odds Mrs. HM would encounter trouble at EVERY VENUE SHE PATRONIZED?

We'll cover two of them today.

I had planned my trip. I needed a few items from Save A Lot. Things I only buy there. Like the BBQ sauce, and the store-brand Honey Nut Cheerios. We also need red Solo cups, and Oat Nut bread, bananas, garlic toast, and spaghetti sauce. I had a list. I had my winning scratchers to scan at their machine. I knew which tickets I was buying.

I turned T-Hoe onto the Save A Lot parking area, and saw that both sides of the parking rows were TAKEN! Maybe one empty space on the whole lot. No way was I going to squeeze in and then stand in line in the store. What kind of people go grocery shopping at 2:15 on a beautiful Sunday afternoon on the first weekend of the month?

Anyhoo... I drove out the lower end of the lot, deciding to come back another day. I should have realized this was a case of foreshadowing...

I proceeded to Country Mart, where I had planned to get our PowerBall tickets and The Pony's Cash4Life, and two of the $3 crossword scratchers. Since I had missed my chance at the Save A Lot lottery machine, there were also a couple $5 tickets I wanted.

As usual, I started at Country Mart's left lottery machine. I scanned in a $10 winner. I touched the screen to get one PowerBall ticket for $2. My balance dropped to $8. I waited for my paper draw ticket to come out the bottom of the machine. Nope. A message popped up. "Unable to process draw tickets at this time." 

Well, ain't that a fine how-do-you-do? It did NOT give me back my credit for the not-processed PowerBall ticket! As I was contemplating what to do next, the deli worker who gives me fresh chicken came up behind me.

"Are you buying my winners?"

"Maybe... but right now, the machine has taken me for TWO DOLLARS!"

"Oh. Let me get someone."

She hollered around to see who was working the service desk, and where they might be. It was Mike. The small older guy I see pretty often there. He was outside. She said he'd be back in a minute. So I got my other tickets using the $8 left. Then I waited. And waited. Then I went over to the right side machine, and scanned in another $10 winner, and touched the screen to get The Pony's two Cash4Life with Easy Match. $6 was subtracted from my credit. Then a message popped up: "Unable to process draw tickets at this time."

What in the Not-Heaven? I had thought it was just a problem with the left side machine, possibly being out of the paper needed to print those tickets. Now THIS machine had the same problem! I put in a dollar, and got a $5 scratcher. Then stepped back to wait some more.

The only cashier working hollered to another worker who had just come in from break: "Go get Mike. This lady has been waiting over ten minutes for him to come in and help her with the lottery."

When Mike came through the doors, he apologized.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know anyone was waiting for me. Do you need me to scan those tickets and see if they're winners?" He motioned to the tickets I had bought.

"No. I need to get my money back for the draw tickets that won't print. I have two dollars in this machine, and six dollars in that one."

"Oh. I am very sorry, but I don't have a key to the machines."

"Can you give me an IOU?"

"Step over here to the desk. I will get your information."

Mike gave me a little spiral notebook, open, and told me to write down my name, and what happened. A man came over behind me with his wife, asking for "Purple formula." Mike told him that the cashier could actually walk over to the desk and get it for him, but that he didn't want him to wait, so he'd get it. Then Mike started apologizing to me again.

"I am so sorry about this. And you're a regular, too! I see you in here all the time. You're SO POLITE! Such a nice lady. I apologize for the machines. The lady who can help you will be here in the morning. She gets here at 7:00. I'll leave her your note, and one from me. She's here until 2:00."

"So I need to be here by 2:00?"

"1:30. She will give you your eight dollars back. Could you maybe write down your phone number? I won't share it with anybody. I can call you when she's doing the machine. Or wait. Just tell me a time when you will be here, and I'll let her know."

"Probably 11:00. Unless that's her lunch time."

"Never mind if it's her lunch time! You come in at 11:00. You're SO NICE. I'm sorry for all this trouble. I am so used to people being mean. Talking down to me. I speak 9 languages! I used to be in Intelligence. But they want to act like I'm not even a person. It's people like you that give us a reason to work. When she runs the report on the machines, it will show up, and we'll get your money back."

"Thank you so much! I'm sure you learned how to deal with people like that, with all your Intelligence experience, but that doesn't make it any easier!"

"I wish everyone was as nice as you. I'm so sorry this happened."

"It's okay. I'll come in tomorrow at 11:00. Then I'll probably put that money right back into the lottery machine!"

So now I have to adjust my schedule! Not necessarily get up earlier, because I've been up by 8:00 since I came home from my Unfortunate HospitVALzation. To make sure The Pony is up, and talk to him before he leaves for work.

At least I had excellent customer service from the Country Mart crew.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Mrs. HM Is H To T

That stands for HOT TO TROT! And NOT in a pleasant way. In the usage of my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel, who said it when describing someone who was fit to be tied. Beside herself. Had her granny panties in a wad. Her nose out of joint. A bee in her bonnet. Hotter to trot than a wet hornet!

Please allow me to vent. I feel like the boiler at the Overlook Hotel. I don't have a Jack Torrance chewing aspirin and coming down to the basement to dump me.

I received a package today. It was delivered by FedEx. Nobody told me it was here. No email. No knock at the door. It was placed in the back of Farmer H's Gator under the carport. That's the BEST thing that happened with that package! I have no issue with FedEx today.

When I opened my package, AN ITEM WAS MISSING! Not only that, but a DIFFERENT ITEM was included. One that looked nothing like what I had ordered.

This was from a major online clothing company. I had ordered two shirts and two foundation garments. I received two shirts, one foundation garment, and a soft item in a see-through bag that looked like it MIGHT be a black v-neck cotton t-shirt. It was two sizes larger than anything I ordered. I'm pretty sure it cost about 1/4 the price of my brand-name foundation garment that was missing.

I called customer service. Louise was a good customer service rep. She had just the tiniest of an Asian accent. She was respectful and polite. I have nothing against Louise doing her job. However.... customer service for this company SUCKS!

The only way to get back my $43 dollars for the missing item is for me to SEND BACK THE UNORDERED ITEM! Is that legal? It is not MY fault that I was sent the wrong item. Why should I have to go to all the trouble of packaging that unwanted item, filling out a return form, driving to town, standing in line at the post office to mail it, then wait for an email E-Gift Card in the amount of my purchase??? That's a lot of trouble for somebody being cheated out of $43!

Sure, there may be some people who lie about not getting their items. Or what if they actually DON'T receive an item, and don't get a useless-to-them mistake item in their package? What do THEY have to do to get their money back?

I think the company should tell me to keep the unwanted useless-to-me item, and then immediately credit my credit card with the amount of the missing item. THAT would be good customer service. I've NEVER sent one item back to this company. Never called to complain of anything missing.

Maybe the company can't handle it this way, because they make SO MANY errors like this...