Mrs. HM Is Bamboozled By The Highway Department, And Almost Hit By A Car

Sweet Gummi Mary! I've had it with this highway department! The bridge is still not resurfaced, even though there has been intermittent work and lane closures. 

 

Wednesday, the local paper online said that our lettered county highway would be undergoing resurfacing on THURSDAY, from 7:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. And that local residents might not want to wash their cars, since there would be gravel and oil spread on the road to seal it. So not an actual application of blacktop, but a cheaper and quicker way to seal "low traffic" roads. The article described the process. Gave the roads where the work would start and end.

 

"What am I supposed to do? I don't care about getting T-Hoe dirty, but I don't want to get in that traffic mess. I guess I'll go down the back road and come out over behind the local junior college. That's close to the bank. I can go there first on my errands."

 

"Well, you don't have to go all the way there. Other roads branch off."

 

"You know I'll get lost! I'll just stick with the way I know."

 

"Yeah. You can do that."

 

So I did. Went the very back way, and did my errands, and came back the regular way, since by then it was 3:45, and I thought they might be getting done and cleaning up.

 

I was kind of right. THERE WAS NO RESURFACING ON THE WHOLE WAY HOME! No sign of resurfacing. The bridge was still not done, either!

 

I wasted my whole detour for NOTHING! Those dang liars! I imagine they'll pop up on Friday, when I least expect it, and wreak havoc with my travel plans.

 

Oh, and while I was standing at the left lottery machine in Country Mart, scanning in two $3 winners so I could buy more scratchers... a lady came through the door with her kid in the cart with the built-on plastic car, and ALMOST HIT ME!

 

I know it's hard to see when you come through the door. Especially when pushing an extra-long cart with a car on the front. So I didn't make a scene. Didn't even huff or shoot her the stink-eye. But she said to her companion:

 

"Oh, no! I almost hit that lady. I'm so sorry!"

 

"It's okay. Not a big deal. But I was almost hit by a CAR, heh, heh!"

 

I can forgive that cart-car driver way easier than the highway department.

Sweet Sweet Juno Is Souring Me On Farmer H

I'm a little concerned about my Sweet, Sweet Juno. First she had that limp on her back leg. We can't see anything wrong with the leg itself, nor her foot pads. She was at least leaning on it Wednesday. Maybe she jumped off the porch, or off the carport chasing after Jack and Copper Jack in their squirrel quest. Juno is no spring chicken. We've had her since she was a too-young pup, and we got her in 2011. So she's 11 years old. That's 77 in dog years!

Anyhoo... I had told Farmer H to check Juno's leg. He said she runs away from him. Yes, she does. But he didn't say he'd actually TRIED to get a look at her foot.

Juno is molting her summer fur, and now that most of it is gone, she looks THIN. Way too thin. I've been telling Farmer H that the dogs don't like that food he bought last. He SAID he bought more food, and is mixing it together. Yet the bowls are full when I leave for town in the afternoon. He feeds them before 7:00 a.m. So they are consciously shunning that food until they get really hungry.

So worried am I about Juno that I told Farmer H to get her some canned food. He at least did that. Got her 10 cans. Just for her, not to share with Jack. Farmer H says she's been eating her canned food. She also eats the treats I dole out, so it's nothing wrong with her mouth, or a pain that might keep her from eating.

Farmer H said he'd get some wormer, just in case that's her problem, although little Jack is quite rotund, and not suffering the same ailment that is slimming Juno. THEN he forgot to get the wormer. So maybe tomorrow. 

 

Last night, Juno had her can of food. Then I gave her an expired chicken-something frozen dinner with hamburger grease from our pre-taco meat. Thawed, of course. And she was in the middle of eating that when I tossed out some expired Buffalo Chicken chunks to Jack and Copper Jack. She ran out of her house to snatch one from under the tiny mouth of little Jack! So it doesn't seem to be a problem with her appetite. Except where that dry dog food is concerned. I hope that food is not what's making her sick!

Meanwhile, Farmer H is nearing dog house cohabitation with Juno, because he used my regular can opener on her dog food! It's not a fancy can opener. Just a hand-held version with black plastic handles. You might say that Farmer H had no other alternative, except I bought TWO can openers the day before! A plain metal one, and another kind of like my regular can opener. And specifically told Farmer H to use one of those on Juno's food. His picture is in the dictionary next to non-compliant. Or nincompoop. Maybe both.

Anyhoo, I hope Juno starts picking up weight. I fear that she is just getting old. Though aging has not had the same effect on me...

Junkestician, Heal Thyself

Farmer H is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he can build a shed! Sometimes his porch light is on, though nobody's home. But the porch is sturdy and the light doesn't flicker. He may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but the box is handmade, dovetailed, sanded, and lacquered, with monogrammed initials inlaid.

 

Saturday, Farmer H went to his Storage Unit Store as usual. He wanted to make some sales in his last remaining weeks, and was still there when I called him around 3:30 as I was leaving for town. I think I was just inquiring as to his whereabouts, and if he wanted something from the store.

 

"I don't know, HM. I'm not feeling well." 

"What's wrong with you?"

"I just don't feel good. I'm putting my stuff away now."

"Did you have lunch?"

"No."

"You'd better eat something when you get home, before going off to the auction."

The more I thought about it as I drove to town, the more I was convinced that Farmer H shouldn't be driving himself home in his delicate condition. He has diabetes, you know. And shouldn't be skipping meals. I remember when I had to drink that sugary stuff at the doctor when I was pregnant with Fetus Genius, and they let me leave, and when they gave me the test results, I found out my blood sugar had been 48! No wonder I could barely find my way back home, and had trouble remembering how the gas pump worked at Casey's! 

Anyhoo... I had an inkling maybe Farmer H was having an episode of low blood sugar. I had some butterscotch hard candies in T-Hoe's console. Sure, they're probably several years old. But might give Farmer H a boost to get him back home to eat some protein. Mrs. HM to the rescue!

Within 7 minutes, I was pulling onto the gravel lot of the storage units. There was SilverRedO down by Farmer H's locker. I drove up, and Farmer H came out. So did another guy, younger, who might have been helping Farmer H put away his stuff, or might have been about to rob him blind. He kept walking. Farmer H stepped up to T-Hoe's passenger door, and stood there. Looking through the window.

"What in the Not-Heaven? What are you doing?" I put the window down. "Aren't you getting in for a minute?"

"No. I was just seeing what you wanted."

"I bet you haven't eaten anything for 7 or 8 hours! Do you want a butterscotch?"

"Yeah. I'll have one." Farmer H took the bag and shook them in his hand, then put them back except for one. "I had a sausage biscuit that my buddy brought around 7:30."

"So it HAS been that long! And you only took ONE butterscotch?"

"I'm on my way home. I'll eat something there. And I just had a couple of those auction cookies before you got here."

"Those tasteless shortbread cookies in the tube? Did it help."

"I'm feeling a little bit better..."

"You need to start taking better care of yourself. You can't just go all that time moving stuff in and out of your locker, and not eating!"

"Yeah. I'm going to put a mini fridge in my new locker so I can take a sandwich."

Not exactly helpful for Sunday's sales. I made him take some string cheese, and Ritz crackers. He said his buddy "across the way" usually brought a cooler. So he'd put his cheese in it. 

The Perfect End To Casino Robbery

And now, for the tale of the next forkin' thing depriving Mrs. HM of her peace of mind...

At the end of our casino outing last Thursday, we had plans to meet up front at 3:15. Farmer H would go out and bring A-Cad around to the front doors for me and The Pony, who stays with me for moral and perhaps emergency physical support.

The Pony found me at 3:00, at my favorite Wonder 4 Tall Fortunes slot, playing Indian Dreaming.

"Dad already went out to the car. I'm supposed to text him when you're ready for the car."

"Okay. He said 3:15, and I said I'd have to go by the bathroom first. Here. You can go cash in my ticket while I finish playing this out."

"Um. So... you're not going to include that on your ticket? Won't you just have to cash it out anyway, or send me back?"

"Heh, heh! You act as if I'm going to be left with some money! That's probably not happening."

"Well. Just in case, I'll stand right here by you. Give me that ticket! I'll hold it for you."

Good thing I did. I might have been tempted to put THAT back in and lose it as well! Anyhoo... I played down my credits and The Pony left to cash my ticket. He said he'd wait in the chairs by the front door, and text Farmer H when he saw me come out of the bathroom. That's a sad testament to how slow I walk! From bathroom to front door in the time it takes for Farmer H to start A-Cad and drive around.

Anyhoo... I always go to the bathroom before our 90-minute drive home. Only THIS time, I was feeling a bit... um... indisposed! So I figured I might as well make a little deposit in that bathroom before hitting the road. I don't normally like to do that out in public, but that IS the purpose of a bathroom. 

 

In fact, the lady running right up my rumpus on the walk over there was in more urgent need than was I. At least she didn't knock me out of the way. There was room to go around, but she must have been using my aerodynamic airflow to draft and use less energy. Once we entered the bathroom proper, she darted into the first stall the minute I stepped past. She was one of those "AHHH" people. Really. That is totally unnecessary! But she let her sigh fly at the same time she let her other business fly.

I can't really fault her for her business, since I was there for the same purpose. Though much more quiet about it. She was out of there quickly, and I was left with three empty stalls to my right. It didn't take long for me to do my business. That BBQ pork loin from lunch was squealing its way right out of me! I reached for the toilet paper.

There was a big silver metal holder containing an upper and a lower roll of toilet paper. I'd used the upper one with no problem when we first arrived. The bottom roll was full, still intact and unused. But there were scraps on the floor. Like single squares. 

 

As I tried to pull out some TP from the top roll, the square tore off in my hand. And the next one! Those two rolls were too close. The double-ply sheets of the top roll were no longer lined up. So each square was really flimsy. It took much shimmying and finagling to pull out a small strip of squares. In my efforts, several single-ply squares dropped to the ground. Except they didn't. They landed on the leg of my pants! And stuck like velcro!

Of all the times for this to happen... when Farmer H was probably fuming in the car over his losses, having gone out early to sit and wait on me. And The Pony waiting to text him at a moment's notice. You can be sure that I plucked those squares off my pants one by one! No way was I walking out of the bathroom with TP stuck on my leg! It must have had static electricity.

Anyhoo... I made it out unmarked. And made sure to tell the tale to Farmer H and The Pony as we pulled away. The Pony rolled his eyes and seemed to think it was too much information.

There's no such thing in The Blogoverse.

Casey's Bathroom Is The New Clown Car

My series of misadventures last week included a couple of bathroom incidents. NO! NO! It's not like THAT! Nothing that would scar me (or YOU) for life. Just something you don't expect, nor want, to happen when you have a need to use the facilities.

 

Last Wednesday, I was over in Sis-Town doing my errands, to free up Thursday for our casino trip with The Pony. I started my tasks at the bank, then proceeded to the Sis-Town Casey's for T-Hoe's weekly gas and my scratchers. 

 

I have learned to take advantage of a clean roomy toilet as it presents itself to me! You never know when you might get tied up in a convenience store line or an unfortunate traffic incident. So I always do my business in the Sis-Town Casey's bathroom. I have also learned to use the facilities BEFORE pre-paying for my gas, because the pump shuts off the pre-payment after an inordinately short period of time, necessitating a walk back inside and another wait in line to have it reset.

 

Anyhoo... I was there before the after-school rush. I proceeded to the bathroom, where there are two stalls. They are both roomy, but only the handicap stall has a bar on the wall for help in arising from the throne. Of course that's the one I covet.

 

I walked in and saw feet under the first stall. I poked the handicap door, and it was latched. I leaned against the wall to wait, trying not to seem like a perv peeping into the cracks of the other stall's door. A woman was washing her hands at the sink. We had a full house. I rarely encounter a single soul in that bathroom.

 

Anyhoo... I heard a flush, and the denizen of the handicap stall emerged. She was a middle-aged woman, slim of build, with neither wheelchair nor cane, and an unencumbered gait. I have no idea why she would need a handicap stall, but perhaps she had a spasm-y bladder that put her in urgent need, and she couldn't wait. I limped myself into the handicap stall.

 

I heard further flushing, and some milling around. New feet became my neighbor in the other stall. When I came out to wash my hands, the sink area was full of two not-so-small women. Neither was washing her hands! They were chatting. Having a family reunion of sorts. As if they didn't have somewhere better to do that. One had an item on the back of her neck that looked a bit like a maxi-pad. Or maybe it was an actual bandage. The other was telling her it looked okay. Whatever...

 

Still, they stood and talked. I know the main talker could see me in her peripheral vision. Even Maxi-Pad could see me in the mirror. Yet they stayed. Not washing. Not drying. Blocking the double sinks. I gave up and left. I have GermX in my purse in T-Hoe. The world won't stop revolving if I don't wash my hands for five minutes. I'm not a face-toucher.

 

As I stood in line to pay for my gas and order up my scratchers, those two lingerers went out the door. I swear they were trying to out-wait me!

 

I have no idea why the Sis-Town Casey's bathroom was the place to be at that very slim window of time.

One Forking Thing After Another

Mrs. HM has been having a few days of not-the-best luck. Too many incidents to cram in all at once. But we'll start with the most obvious:

 

On Tuesday, I ate part of my fork. I can't give you a review of its taste, because I didn't taste it. Didn't even know I ate it until I saw the end after I licked it clean of the baked potato/broccoli/cheese/sweet banana peppers that I had as my side dish. 

I'm guessing that everything came out okay. That I am not harboring a fork tip that will eventually work its way out of my digestive tract, through my thick skin, and fall to the dark green ceramic tile of the master bathroom floor as I'm getting ready to shower.

Side note... in college, I ran five miles a day. I missed a curb one fall morning, only a block into my run, and slid my knees across some gravelly concrete. I was able to continue my run with minimal blood loss, and wash and treat and bandaid the worst knee when I returned to the dorm. By springtime, my wound was well-healed, with a little bumpy scar. It itched every now and then.

Imagine my surprise when I scratched and a PIECE OF GRAVEL CAME OUT! That was kind of weird. But painless. And then the itching stopped.

The more you know... the less you WISH you knew!

Seniors Be Eatin' High On The Chicken

Farmer H took a picture of his meal from the Senior Center on Friday. Not a bad deal for $3. Of course he said some of the "old people" once again threw away their whole tray. The food on it. Not the ACTUAL tray, like one of my old colleagues from the Semi Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank used to throw away his plastic chili bowl off the tray. Knowingly! 

 

According to Farmer H, the lunch was two PIECES of BBQ chicken, potatoes "a la gratin," green beans, a cucumber/macaroni salad, and cherry pie. He said the servers are going to ask that old lady next time: "Are you going to throw away your tray? Because if you are, why don't you just say you don't want it, so we don't waste food?" Good luck with that.

Anyhoo... doesn't something about those chicken legs look a little bit off? There's a bone where there shouldn't be a bone. Was that chicken a peg-leg? Did it not have a thigh?

When Farmer H left the Mansion Friday morning, he did not know what the Senior Center was having for lunch. Of course it ended up being the same thing we were having for supper. Chicken and mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese! From Country Mart deli. Yeah. He didn't get all the other sides.

Farmer H ate it like it was good. It cost more than $3.

Reading Farmer H's Mind

NO! Don't try this at home! You can't possibly read Farmer H's mind. You'll cause your noggin to explode from twisting your own gray matter into knots, trying to figure out what Farmer H means!

Wednesday around 12:30, Farmer H sent me a text:

"HM I got some leftover chicken from the senior center it's barbecue chicken I'll bring it home tonight for supper it's at Ponys in the refrigerator"

Farmer H never met a piece of punctuation that he liked.

Anyhoo... I assumed we would be having some legs and thighs of BBQ chicken. Some sides. Each in a styrofoam container like when he brought me that Reuben sandwich. On the phone later, when I asked what sides he had with lunch, he said some salad and sweet potato waffle fries, and a slice of cookie pie.

Imagine my surprise when Farmer H walked into the kitchen with ONE styrofoam container, the size you would put a hamburger in.

"Oh. I thought we were both having the BBQ chicken for supper."

"We are! There's plenty there for two people."

"That's the only container?"

"Yeah. It's just the chicken pieces. For sandwiches."

Here's what he brought, after I already took half of it out to warm it:

 

"That's what I told you. It's barbecue chicken pieces."

"PIECES mean PIECES! Like legs and thighs."

"This IS pieces. It's... it's..."

"It's PULLED chicken. Like pulled pork. You could have told me. We have buns to eat it on. You acted like it was actual PIECES of chicken. Like fried chicken."

"Well, this is what it was. We had sandwiches of it. FOUR of the old people who live upstairs in the apartment THREW THEIRS AWAY! Just dumped their whole tray in the trash. They get theirs for free, but I don't think they should waste it like that. They told the gal they didn't like it."

"Yeah. It's too bad it got wasted. But I guess they didn't know they didn't like it until they ate it. And then it's to late to put it back."

"They can't even save it if it isn't touched! They got rules against it."

"Did you pay for this?"

"No. They can't sell it. There's rules against that too. But instead of throwing it away, they gave it to me. I hope nobody finds out. Them other guys would get mad."

Farmer H. He's always got connections. The chicken was delicious.

The Prescription Plot Thickens

Sweet Gummi Mary! Somebody at the pharmacy or doctor nurse practitioner office is as off their rocker as my Sweet, Sweet Juno!

You may recall that I've been trying to get all 3 of my refills on the same schedule. Two had one month left, and the other was out. I called the pharmacy on Friday, and the tech said they would contact the doctor nurse practitioner for me. Then on Monday night, I called in my refills to their prescription automated line.

Tuesday, I got a message that 1 of 1 prescriptions were ready! What in the Not-Heaven? I didn't even bother to call and ask. Their automated line had told me in a robotic voice that one prescription was out of refills, and it would take an extra day to contact the doctor nurse practitioner. So I figured I'd wait. The plan was to swing by there Wednesday evening on my way home from errand day.

Well! Wednesday morning at 10:00, I got a text that said 3 of 3 prescriptions were ready. Yes. I hear you saying how happy you are that things worked out for me. But what you don't know is that when I opened up the bag once I got home, I discovered that two prescriptions are out of refills, as I expected, and the one in question

NOW HAS 4 REFILLS LEFT!

So much for getting them synchronized. I don't even know where to go with this. I'll just make my appointment for my 6-month checkup within the next 30 days, and tell the doctor nurse practitioner that I need refills. I figure he'll write them for all three, and when I come up short after the four refills, there will be another scrip on hold for them to refill it again as the other two expire.

This really shouldn't be so hard for them to understand...

Juno Is Off Her Rocker

As I sit at the kitchen table typing, it is 11:54 p.m. on Tuesday night, and my Sweet, Sweet Juno has lost her flippin' mind! I have no other explanation for the current shenaniganning of which she is partaking.

 

Juno's dog house is a mere 15 feet away. Ten feet of kitchen, then five feet on the other side of the door. She is scraping and scratching the floor of her house like a madwoman! I don't know what is going on. I opened the door and asked her, but she surprisingly did not answer. So I shouted her name, and she came out of her house like nothing was going on. Just strolled out, looking for a treat!

Of course that was a signal for my little Jack to stop his half-hearted yapping at Copper Jack, and come running around the porch for HIS treat. I gave Jack a little scrap of a hush puppy left from my supper, because I like him better. Shh... don't tell Juno. It's only because of her infernal scraping and scratching. I gave HER a piece of a hamburger bun that went stale but not moldy. She took in into her house. 

As soon as I closed the door and sat down, Juno started scratching and scraping again!

I don't have a flashlight handy to peer inside. I suppose maybe she got one of her hoarded dried bones caught in a crack in the floor or side wall. No other idea why she would start this now. It's been going on for over 90 minutes!

At least she might file down her doggy toenails a bit before morning.

This Does Not Bode Well For My Prescription Refill Scenario

I called in my prescription refills Monday night. It's time. We'll see how getting a one-month renewal on one of the three pans out.

I'm not so confident. Also on Monday, I got a letter from my OLD insurance. Dated September 13.

"Your health coverage will end on July 1, 2022 because your employer's contract with us is ending. We understand this may be of some concern to you..."

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN!

Thank the Gummi Mary they saw fit to inform me on SEPTEMBER 13 that my coverage would be expiring on JULY 1.

Health insurance is a racket. I wouldn't be surprised if they try to collect my $731 monthly premiums for July, August, and half of September!

At least my prescriptions are on my NEW insurance. IF everyone is doing their job right...

Hillmomba Is Hoppin' And Poppin'

Never a dull moment in Hillmomba. I was discussing The Pony's texts about his new benefits as a regular City Carrier instead of a City Carrier Assistant, and Farmer H couldn't be bothered to pay attention.

"Um. Am I boring you? You can't go five seconds without looking at your phone. I am TRYING to tell you about The Pony and his 401k."

"I hear you. The Pony just sent me a text."

"He didn't send ME a text! Not since last night."

"He's asking me what's going on in Hillmomba. I said I don't know. I left my Storage Unit Store early, to go down to Bill-Paying Town to look at their flea market. What could be going on in Hillmomba? He says there's traffic all over the place."

"I don't know. Is there a fall festival? I hope it's not busy when I go to town."

"Oh. I think it's just a football game."

About an hour later, I started to town. I had just gone over the long high bridge that is still all scraped down and full of holes, but not being worked on. Up ahead, over the richie rich houses before you get to the prison, I saw smoke. Thick smoke.

"Huh. What in the Not-Heaven? Is somebody burning leaves? There aren't enough leaves yet. Such thick smoke. Maybe burning tires?"

On I went. Around the curve, past the richie rich houses. THERE! On a side road to the left were two fire trucks blocking the turn-off. And two sheriff's cars. And a BLAZING WHITE SEDAN, with flames shooting 15 feet into the air! I don't know if it was a convertible, or if the roof was just black from the fire.

By the time I started home, the emergency vehicles were gone. The smoke had dissipated. All that was left was the charred white sedan, now topless, a middle-aged woman in jeans shorts standing back watching, and a flat-bed car-hauler wrecker getting ready to load the remains.

I don't think that's the kind of excitement The Pony was talking about. But excitement still the same.

Farmer H Has Lost His Edge

Farmer H went to the auction last week and last night. He's lost his edge! He's not buying good stuff that I can show you. I think he has lost his concentration, due to visions of a new Storage Unit Store dancing in his head.

Last week, Farmer H went to the auction early, with items to sell. But he came home at the regular time. He said he didn't see anything he wanted to buy, and didn't hang around to get his money from the items he sold. He told the lady who runs the auction that he'd get it next week. He couldn't be bothered to stick around until the whole auction wrapped up.

Last night, Farmer H only bought one item:

 

That was a good deal! He only paid $2 for that family size bag of M&Ms. It would be around $6 at Country Mart. Maybe more! Farmer H himself said he should have gotten more than one.

Also, they had little stuffed animals 5 for $3. He wished he'd bought 20 of them, for Santa to give out when he goes to his yearly local pre-school visit.

I sure wish Farmer H had opened this bag to sample the wares! He said I could have some, but I don't want to be the one to open the bag.

What Could Possibly Go Wrong With This Scenario?

It's that time again. Time to schedule a doctor nurse practitioner appointment for a 6-month checkup to get my prescription refills. Funny how I've been taking the same three medicines for over 20 years, but one prescription runs out a month before the other two...

I don't know how these prescriptions got unsynchronized. I call in their refills on the same day. They are all 30-day prescriptions, because for obvious reasons, we can't trust the mail to be delivered and not stolen if we were to get the 90-day mail order version.

Anyhoo... my thyroid medication says NO REFILLS. It's not expensive. It's generic. Costs me $4-something, except for the past several months, it's been free because I've met my insurance deductible. So it's not a medicine that insurance might be trying to scam me out of, or switch me to something cheaper. I don't see why I have to make an appointment to get the prescriptions renewed when 2-out-of-3 still have one month left on the refills.

Every time I have my appointment, I tell the doctor nurse practitioner that my prescriptions need to all come due at the same time. He smiles and nods and says, "We'll fix that." Yet they never do!

Mrs. HM is getting crotchetier in her old age. I'm putting my foot down! I told Farmer H that I was going to call the doctor nurse practitioner office and see it they could just send in a 1-month refill on that thyroid med. Then I'll get the appointment within the next month, and all should be back on the same schedule when I get refills for the next six months.

Then I remembered that sometime, I had seen that the office doesn't want patients calling for refills, but that we should let the pharmacy handle it. Surely I didn't dream that! I can see how it would cut down on many phone calls which the nurse has to return (since they rarely speak to you, but have you leave a message). I would imagine it's more of a streamlined process for the pharmacies to submit their requests online at the same time each day. So there's a routine to granting refills.

I know that one time, my pharmacy called because one ran out (quite possibly that very thyroid med in question), and then told me they got my refill, but the doctor (NURSE PRACTITIONER) said they wouldn't do it again, because I had to come in for an appointment.

SWEET GUMMI MARY! It's not like I'm seeking opiates! I "only" have the thyroid, blood pressure, and heart-slower meds. Two are generic. AND, during the pandemic, the office most certainly did not want me to darken their door (nor parking lot), and called in my prescriptions anyway. So I don't know the big deal. I guess maybe they don't want to get sued if I drop dead of side effects. But if I DID, I wouldn't be suing anybody!

More likely, they want their money for the selfish reason of keeping their business going, heh, heh! I don't begrudge them an office visit every six months for financial purposes. But I'd like all my prescriptions to be in sync.

Anyhoo... I called my pharmacy to discuss the matter on Friday morning (before 11:00 a.m.!). The gal said no need for me to call my doctor (NURSE PRACTITIONER), that the pharmacy would contact them when it was time for refills, and my prescription was out.

That's certainly convenient for me. What could possibly go wrong?

A Half-Hour Late, And Shoulda Been Six Dollars Short

We took The Pony out for supper on Thursday, to a local catfish place. We got there at 3:53 (okay, we took The Pony out for LUPPER), and were pleased to see that we could get the all-you-can eat special for $2 less, since the lunch special ran from 11:30-4:00. 

WELL! Those dirty dastardly do-nots did NOT give us the special price. Which I only just now figured out by checking the bill! It was just a matter of $6 total, but $6 is $6. I can't wait to complain to Farmer H for not raising the issue before paying! It's not OUR fault that they made us sit at the table without taking our order until right at 4:00. DANG THEM!

Anyhoo... my purpose when I started typing was to reveal that a customer behind us, an older man, all alone, kept talking to our waitress while she was at our table. Farmer H asked if she was having a good day, and she said she was ready to go home, since she'd been there since 11:00.

Guy Behind: "Well, you could have got on that bed with wheels they brought in here for you, and took a nap."

Hmm. That was odd. She smiled and said she wasn't ready to leave THAT WAY.

Guy Behind: "You know what was wrong with her, right? She ATE TOO MUCH!"

Waitress: "At first I thought maybe she had low blood sugar and was going into a coma, but she already ate! So it doesn't work that way!"

Guy Behind: "Her blood sugar was up, and her oxygen was 99. So she was fine!"

Waitress: "Did she go with them?"

Guy Behind: "No. She refused. Walked out on her own."

Huh. The more you know. I surmised that the paramedics had been there with a gurney, because a customer was about to die. Only she wasn't.

Then the waitress said, "You may not believe this, but that incident happens here at least once a week."

Maybe we'll catch it another time. Lupper and a show.

His Compliments To The Deaf

Farmer H has been leaving home around 6:30-7:00 a.m., to pick up Old Buddy and drive to the middle-er of nowhere to work on Back-Creek Neighbor Bev's new old house. Most mornings, I hear him talking on his phone in the bathroom, while I'm sitting on the short couch, having not headed to bed yet.

Wednesday morning, Farmer H was sitting on the long couch, killing time so he wouldn't be too early for Old Buddy's pickup. His phone rang.

"That'll be Nick." Who is Bev's husband.

Farmer H, being deaf but not admitting it, put his phone on speaker. So I heard the one-sided conversation. Nick was quite complimentary of Farmer H, telling him what a fantastic job he's been doing, and how great the house looks. He said they'd be moving in Wednesday night to start living there full time rather than in their camper parked behind the house.

Furthermore, Nick asked Farmer H to remove a ceiling fan from the bedroom. Said it made clicking noises that drove them crazy. (Or in Bev's case, according to Farmer H, craziER.) Nick said he'd take it back to the store, and tell them it was faulty, and get another one.

"Okay. I can take it down. Bev said it was making a noise, but I didn't hear anything. I don't hear real good though."

When Farmer H got home Wednesday evening, he had more to say.

"I know I need to look at it like you do. That Bev is PAYING me. So I might as well do what she wants. Today she told me she wanted a new window in the front. To take out the old one. There ain't a thing wrong with that window! I tried to tell her, but she said, 'You can do it, or I'll hire someone else.' So I guess I'll take out her window."

"You never know. She might give you the 'faulty' window! She's given you so much other stuff from her other house."

"Yeah. I don't know what she'll do with the window. But I might as well take it out as have her pay someone else."

Farmer H is learning to do what he is told. As long as somebody pays him to do it.

As Close To Home-Cooked As It Gets At The Mansion

The meat loaf turned out to be delicious! Even though I paid more than I used to for hamburger, it was really tasty hamburger! Not with water added like the Devil's Playground does. You can tell when it's cooking, when bubbly water rises to the top of the grease. I hate that! It means I've been duped! Duped into paying for WATER, not meat!

I used to buy my meat exclusively at Save A Lot. Only the one in Hillmomba. Not the one over in Sis-Town where my mom used to shop. I imagine it was okay there. I think they have a traveling butcher that goes between both stores. But I would have needed to drive my meat farther to get it home. Anyhoo... Mom always loved my chili, and each time would ask what made it so good, and my answer was THE HAMBURGER from Save A Lot. But I gotta say, the Country Mart hamburger is just as good.

I put that big blob of hamburger in a giant bowl. Made sure to crumble it so it wasn't clumpy. Shook a bunch of Worcestershire Sauce on it. Cracked three eggs into it. Sprinkled about a quarter-packet of dried onion soup mix over it. Tore a hot dog bun and half of another into small pieces, and tossed them in. Then I smooshed it all around to mix the ingredients. After that, I plopped the mass into a 9 x 11 glass pan for baking. 

Baby carrots, cut in half because they were not baby enough for my liking, got sprinkled around the perimeter of the meat loaf. I slid it into the oven at 350 for 20 minutes. Then I took it out to stir the baby carrots around in the juice (okay, we all know it was the fat) and sprinkle on some Hidden Valley Ranch powder. I squirted ketchup on top of the meat loaf and spread it out evenly. Then back in the oven for another 20 minutes.

It came out great! I even allowed Farmer H to use a real plate. In fact, I had one myself. We finished it off with some instant mashed potatoes, the Loaded Baked Potato flavor. I didn't have milk to mash my own potatoes. 

We had leftovers the next night, and there will be a third night. During which actual baked potatoes will take the place of mashed. I have 10 lbs of potatoes to use, you know!

 

We don't skimp on portions! Looks good enough to eat, don't you think?

Hamburger, Potatoes, And Chicken, OH MY!

Let the record show that I do my shopping at Country Mart because it is convenient. NOT because it is economical. Prices are likely better at the Devil's Playground. Better at Save A Lot. But Save A Lot doesn't have some of the brand-name items I seek, and the Devil's Playground adds water to their meat. I'd rather pay over-inflated prices for actual meat than cheaper prices and realize I've been had!

You have to be on your toes to shop at Country Mart. Of course the expiration dates must be checked. I can't go in there without my glasses! The sales are not always cheaper. Be ready to compare. Here are three examples.

I wanted some hamburger to make meat loaf, and some left over for a pot of chili at a later date. I saw a family pack of ground beef for $11.86. It was 2.98 pounds, at the unit price of $3.98 per pound. I don't normally notice the price per pound. Such a package of ground beef used to cost me around $6 or $7 at Save A Lot. That was pre-pandemic, though. 

I was about to put that ground beef in my cart, when I saw another pack. Bigger. It was $13.73. For 4.94 pounds, at $2.78 per pound. Well! That was more of a bargain! Again, not cheap. But I could get two additional pounds of ground beef for only $2 more! Of course I bought the bigger pack. Plenty for my meat loaf and future chili, PLUS four giant hamburgers that Farmer H grilled on GassyG Jr.

Next was potatoes. I'm not paying the new price of $1.99 for a giant baker! I was planning on a 5 lb bag of russets, which are good for baking. As I pushed my cart/walker along the produce aisle, I saw my 5 lb bag of russets for $5.99. BUT WAIT! Next to them were 10 lb bags of russets for $3.99! Twice as much, for 1/3 less!

I had no need for 10 lb of russet potatoes. But I bought them! Even if we end up tossing half the bag off the back porch if they rot, we got the five pounds we used CHEAPER than buying a 5 lb bag. Farmer H and I had baked potatoes as a side for our hamburgers. We will be having homemade fries, more baked potatoes, terrible taters on a smaller scale with pulled pork, perhaps some potato salad, fried potatoes and onions, and that broccoli/cauliflower/pepper/potato dish with cheese. We'll be like Bubba Gump, but with potatoes instead of shrimp!

The other curious item was chicken. Boneless skinless chicken breasts. Yes. The price has gone up on this frozen staple. I threw away my receipt already, but I spent several moments perusing the freezer case. The package I bought was 2.5 pounds, for $13-something. They used to be much cheaper, around $7 at Save A Lot. But I really wanted that chicken. Down at the end, I saw that the 2.5 lb bag of chicken WINGS was $15-something. That is outrageous! At least I wasn't paying for bones in my chicken breasts! I bet at least half of those wings were bone. I don't know about you, but Farmer H and I don't eat the bones! 

Just sayin'... I'm not the most economical shopper. I'd rather pay more and walk less, and not spend T-Hoe's gas money driving over to the Devil's Playground for a bit cheaper prices. But I'll be danged if I'll pay more just for a lack of attention to portions and prices!

I Feel Like It's Their Version Of Auto Bingo

My grilling conversation with Old Lady Checker and Bagger Boy continued on Saturday afternoon, as they quizzed me on whether I'd been there twice that day.

"We need to give you a name tag!" said Old Lady Checker.

 

"I'd wear it. I'll bring in ONE CART a day! But if I'm here twice, I'll bring in two."

"Well, we'd have to give name tags to about 50 people..." said Bagger Boy.

 

"Oh, I used to see the same lady here every day at the lottery machine. I guess I've been coming in later. It's been months since I saw her inside or on the parking lot."

 

"What did she look like?"

 

"Well. I'm going to say she was an old lady, but she might have been younger than ME!"

 

"Did she have black hair?"

 

"No. White hair. She was short and kind of small."

 

"Oh. That might be Brenda."

 

"Maybe. Oh, this ice cream is SO GOOD!"

 

"Yeah. We're addicted. Last time I got the Cherry Cheesecake. My husband likes it. But I didn't see any of that, so I got the Chip Mint, which is my favorite, and this Chocolate Swirl for him to try."

 

"Bagger Boy, I used this ice cream to make myself a chocolate pie. You know, the frozen kind. I cut it into slices to freeze so I wouldn't be tempted."

 

"That wouldn't stop ME! I'd just take out two pieces!"

 

Anyhoo... I guess it's a good thing I wasn't buying anything embarrassing, what with their scrutiny and comments! I feel like they have cards under the counter, with regular customers on them, and they pass the time playing Customer Bingo.

Is Mrs. HM Under Surveillance Now?

 As I checked out at Country Mart on Saturday around 3:30, the old lady check who once put down my age as 80 greeted me with:

"Isn't this your second time in here today?"

"No..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm in here every day, but only ONCE!"

The young man checker who is such a good bagger had come over from the service desk to greet me and bag my groceries.

"She was in here last night."

"Yeah! I spoke to you last night when I pushed that cart in, and told you there were 50 more outside."

"Oh, that's right. I saw you when I went out to get those other carts."

"Well... it WAS around 5:30. So it's been less that 24 hours since I was here. I suppose TECHNICALLY, yes, it's my second time in here in a day."

Sweet Gummi Mary! Are they keeping tabs on me now? At least Bagger Boy came to my rescue! Not that the Old Lady was snooty or anything. I suppose she was just making conversation. Which continued. 

More tomorrow...

If You Want Something Done Right, Don't Send Farmer H To Do It For You

But you already knew that, right? What the title is advising you?

 

Since Farmer H wanted to have Casey's Pizza for supper instead of Domino's, he was in charge of getting it. He's done it before. He stops by in the morning for his clandestine donuts, and puts in the order to pick up on his way home around 5:00.

Thursday night, we discussed the pizza, and Farmer H said he'd be getting a Supreme. That's what I like. He's none too fond of green peppers that come on it, but he'll eat the pizza. My only stipulation was that he ask them to leave off the pepperoni. He agreed. In the past, he's asked for all the pepperoni to be put on ONE SIDE of the pizza, but since Casey's puts the toppings under the cheese, there's no way to tell WHICH side, until you're eating it!

Anyhoo... the pizza matter was out of my hands. If it had been Domino's, I would have put in the order online, for Farmer H to pick up at a certain time.

Farmer H got home with the pizza shortly after 5:00. He had two boxes! A large and a small.

"Why do you have TWO pizza boxes?"

"I also got breadsticks. The whole thing only cost me $4.32. I had coupons for a free pizza!"

"Like, the actual coupons that used to tear off the box until you had 10?"

"No. They're on my account now. After 10 pizzas, you get a free one."

Farmer H was already done eating by the time I warmed my pizza and a couple breadsticks in the oven. Huh. Something was different. I just couldn't put my finger on it... Until I took a bite.

"Hey! This isn't a Supreme!"

"That's what I ordered."

"No. There's no green peppers, no onions, no mushrooms. YOU ORDERED A MEAT LOVERS, didn't you?"

"No. No."

"You sure did. No way they just "forgot" green peppers, onions, and mushrooms on a Supreme!"

"I ordered the Supreme!"

"You couldn't have, or we'd HAVE a Supreme!"

"The girl wasn't there to do it for me this morning! I had to order it on my phone."

"So?"

"So it got messed up. YOU try to order it on a phone!"

"I order it online. Same system. There's no way you could have ordered a MEAT LOVERS by accident! You have to click on it. Clearly, click on the MEAT LOVERS, and not click on the Supreme. AND you even left off the pepperoni! So there's no way that was an accident!"

"Whatever..."

Farmer H thinks I'm stupid. That I am not onto his conniving ways. He should have just said the night before that he wanted a Meat Lovers. NOT pulled the old switcheroo!

Next time, we're having Domino's thin crust. I'll do the ordering.

This Will NOT Be On Our Menu

It's been a few weeks since we had take-out food. So I decreed that we will be having pizza on Friday night. I was thinking Domino's thin crust, but Farmer H said he'd rather have Casey's. I guess that's okay. I like Casey's. It's so doughy and cheesy, with lots of toppings, but it comes at a price.

Casey's puts a poster on the outer wall of their monthly special. Here's the current version, which we WON'T be serving at the Mansion:

 

YUCK! Who wants BEER CHEESE for breakfast? Not this ol' gal, that's for sure. No siree, Bob! I do see the sticker saying you can get it any time, but just the thought of Beer Cheese Breakfast Pizza has turned me off to it altogether.

We're having a Supreme, without the pepperoni.

Farmer H Opened His Mouth And Removed All Doubt

Better for Farmer H to remain silent than to pretend he can hear what I'm saying and respond.

 

"I'm leaving early for the auction on Saturday. I want to park closer to the building, so I don't have to carry my stuff so far. Actually, I think I'm going to take my little cart so I can load stuff on it to pull back to the car."

 

"Is the lot gravel? Or pavement."

 

"It's metal."

 

"The PARKING LOT IS METAL???"

 

"What? No! Where did you get that? My CART is metal!"

 

"I asked you about the parking lot. Can you pull your cart on gravel?"

"Should be able to."

 

"You SHOULD get a hearing aid!"

 

"I don't need no hearing aid!"

It's hearing like this that gets me yelled at all the time, for things Farmer H THINKS he hears me say, when I've said nothing of the sort.

Want Not, Waste Some

When will I eeever learn? Yes. I used my sing-songy voice like my 2nd Best Old Ex-Teaching Buddy Karen when she would beat me at a hand of poker.

 

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Especially at Country Mart.

 

All summer, I've resisted buying corn-on-the-cob, due to the price. I suppose maybe the price is up all over. But to me, $5 for 4 medium-sized pieces of corn-on-the-cob seems excessive. It's not like we're importing it from Timbuktu. I'm pretty sure corn grows near Hillmomba.

Friday, Country Mart had ears of corn 3-for-$1. That's still in the shucks. Or whatever you call them. Corn like you break it right off the stalk. I don't mind shucking corn. I used to get it from my grandma's garden. While I'm not crazy about the occasional worm, it's not enough to make me give up corn-on-the-cob. So I took my chances. I bought 6 ears of corn.

I shucked two of them on Monday evening. Slathered on some butter, wrapped them in foil, and let Farmer H grill them. THEY WERE DELICIOUS! No worms, either. 

Tuesday evening, I took two more ears out on the back porch for shucking. That's the beauty of living in the country. You just toss your vegetable waste off the back porch. Something will eat it! I've seen a terrapin back there several days when I get ready to park T-Hoe in the garage. Maybe it's the same one. Maybe there are more. 

Anyhoo... I cut the ends off, and shucked the first ear. Peeled all the silky hairs off. It looked fantastic. I started on the second. Wait a minute! That looked rotten. Or like mold. Not green, but brown. I trimmed off more. Okay. Wait! After shucking, some of the kernels had that brown stuff on them. But some came off as the silk came off. Huh. I tossed that ear towards the woods, and went in for the last two. Same thing! Only not as much.

I know there is some weird delicacy with corn fungus, but I don't think this was it! I cut off those kernels, after using my green scrubby thing in the sink to remove some of the brown. I gave Farmer H his choice of the one good ear, or the 1.5 trimmed ears. He chose the 1.5. He's still breathing, as far as I know.

I asked Farmer H if he wanted me to pick up some more corn at the store when I buy bananas on Wednesday. He said no.

Farmer H Has Only Showed His Rumpus Twice Since Friday

Twice. Once literally, once figuratively.

 

Since his medical procedure on Friday, Farmer H as been able to bathe himself! Not a bath per se, but a shower, if he doesn't let water spray directly on his stitches. I'm still not understanding the whole implantation wire/battery thingy. But Farmer H DID show me the result on Saturday.

 

The area that had the leaky bandage was completely uncovered! Looked healthy, with only a small hole and bit of surrounding redness, where a wire had been poking out, attached to a battery pack on a belt. Now, that battery pack is apparently under Farmer H's skin. On the right side, I guess, which has about a 3-inch, horizontal incision held together by gnarly knotted stitches.

 

To be fair, that stitched area was there before. Not even covered. Maybe they opened it up again, then sewed it back. Farmer H sure wasn't able to tell me. Having been KNOCKED OUT, you know, during the procedure. Anyhoo... it had a small see-through oval patch over it. Like a plastic bandage. Looked healthy enough. Farmer H said he was allowed to shower on Saturday! Which he did. And twice on Sunday! He said the bandage should fall off in about a week, and the stitches should absorb in 10 days. He has a follow-up appointment, but it doesn't involve the stitches.

Now that he's self-sufficient, Farmer H has resumed his true coloring. He grilled pork steaks on Monday evening. I set out his BBQ brushes, a bottle of sauce, a rectangular tray covered with foil to transport the cooked meat. I shucked two ears of corn, peeled off all the stringy things, slapped on some butter, wrapped them in foil for cooking on the grill, and put them on the tray.

Farmer H had told me the grilling would take about an hour. I had only to make some instant mashed potatoes, and heat up some frozen garlic toast to complete the meal. Imagine my surprise when, after 45 minutes, Farmer H returned with the hot meat tray.

I'd already measured out my water into a saucepan for the potatoes, and turned on the burner. (The correct one!)

"I didn't know you'd be done so soon! You said an hour."

"I did not. I said 45 minutes."

"Nope. You didn't."

"It don't matter anyways. You said you wasn't cooking the potatoes until I brought in the meat."

"They only take 1 minute. But I could have had the pickles out, and the onion sliced, and my sauce ramekin for dipping."

As I turned to get the garlic toast out of the freezer (it takes 6 minutes), I noticed that Farmer H had set that tray of meat on the front burner. Where I'd have to reach over it to stir the potatoes on the back burner. Every other time, he's set the meat on the left side of the stove, on THAT front burner.

"I can't believe you just put that meat there in my way."

"I don't know where I'm supposed to put it! You have stuff all over the stove! So if you want me to put it somewhere else, I suggest you clean off the stove!"

Sweet Gummi Mary! The NERVE of that cheeky rumpus! 

 

"The only things on the stove are those two pizza pans. They always sit there. The front one has the foil on it to put the garlic toast on. It's not too heavy for you to move. You could have stacked it on top of the one on the back burner. Or set the meat back there."

 

THEN he went off, lecturing me about nothing and everything. Declaring that he didn't want no garlic bread, just forget it! Concluding with: "You are mad at yourself and you take it out on me!"

Seriously? What in the Not-Heaven? I was most definitely mad at HIM, and not at all at myself!

Things are back to normal around here...

I'll Huff And I'll Puff And I'll Blow My Luck 'Round

I made a promise on my not-so-secret blog, to Blog Buddy River, that I'd blow some luck her way. Let it never be said that Mrs. HM reneges on a promise, or doesn't do her homework! My assignment is DONE, man! 

Yes. Since it DID involve geography, I had some research to do. In my mind, Australia is over the Atlantic Ocean, down past Africa, below India. Heh, heh! I was pretty close! So in my mind, if I was going to hike across the U.S., and hop in a canoe to paddle across the ocean, that's the route I'd take from here in Hillmomba, MO. I'd head Southeast.

But NO! Apparently, the most direct route would be to head Southwest! Hike over to California, (because I don't want to be a reverse border-jumper into Mexico), and put my canoe in the Pacific Ocean, and paddle that way, perhaps stopping off in Hawaii for a bathroom break. Seriously. I'm pretty sure I could get there both ways, what with the Earth being ROUND. But going Southwest seems more efficient.

So... when I left for town, I stopped T-Hoe near the end of the driveway, and made sure my bearings were correct, since there was no sun as a landmark, by looking at the mirror compass:

 

See it in the corner? SW for Southwest! I was pointing the right way.

In my mind, I wrapped up my luck in a little square silver box. Put a nice white ribbon with red polka dots on it to hold on the lid and keep the luck inside. Tied that ribbon into a bow on top. I blew that box (I'm quite the blow-hard) into the atmosphere, so it could hitch a ride on a spiraling, corkscrewing zephyr. So it could loft and waft its way to Australia, to River's front door. No porch pirate would have a chance to snatch it, since River is home most days, and would hear the gentle thump as my pretty box landed.

Yes, such a grand plan I had. My arm was almost aching from patting myself on the back. But then I got home from town and scratched my lottery tickets, and discovered winners of $50, $30, and $25.

Sorry, River. That luck might still be floating along in the upper atmosphere. At least I didn't send it on a haboob... which might have eroded some luck. I recall that the haboob was never very lucky for me, when I had freshmen reading about it in my Earth Science class.

The Universe Works Overtime To Conspire Against Mrs. HM

It was one of those days. The days when you have a specific plan, and all goes awry. It was Friday, when Farmer H was having the battery of his bladder wire inserted under the skin of his right rumpus. First cat out of the bag, on Implant Eve, the hospital called to take his pre-op info, and announced that his surgery would be at 7:00 a.m. 

 

Well! That was quite a change, since all his discharge paperwork from two weeks previous said it would be at 2:00! So... Farmer H sent a text to The Pony, informing him that he would now need to be at the Mansion, ready to leave by 5:00 a.m. to get to the hospital by the 5:30 check-in time, rather than noon for the 12:30 check-in time they had planned on.

 

Of course that didn't affect ME, except for The Pony wanting a wake-up text between 3:00 and 3:30 a.m. He takes long showers! Since I'm up anyway, it didn't matter. I figured as soon as they left the Mansion at 5:00, I would go to bed and sleep a few hours, then go to town to mail Genius's letter, which I had forgotten to take along on Thursday. The mail goes out at 11:30. My plan was to leave at 9:30, and also stop by the store on my way home, and be back by the time The Pony arrived with my patient.

 

"Au contraire," said Even Steven.

Oh, I left home at 9:30. I took the closest route to the bank, to withdraw the rest of Farmer H's money that was in the check from Back-Creek Neighbor Bev that I had deposited on Thursday, getting half his money back. There was a flagman stopping traffic so a crew could put in giant metal poles to replace the wooden poles holding the electrical wires.

Right after I got past that roadblock, The Pony texted me that FARMER H WAS BEING RELEASED, and he was driving around to pick him up! I tried to send a text, but even in the midst of town, my phone disagreed. 

At the bank, only two cars were ahead of me. I thought I might actually make it back home shortly after The Pony and Farmer H arrived, and that I could chat with The Pony. However...

I waited in line 10 minutes. Then as I left, taking the back alley to avoid traffic at the stoplight by the exit lane... I came upon the garbage man in the alley:

 

I couldn't back up and negotiate the curve back into the bank lot, which would only have made me use the exit lane at the light anyway. So I waited. It took that guy forever.

 

He was working alone, and had to drag that giant dumpster back into its brick hideaway when finished. I'll be danged if he didn't STOP TO BACK IN CROSSWAYS at the stop sign on the other side of the church. That's the church whose steeple was struck by lightning a while back. Anyhoo... I took a short cut through the little parking area beside the church that the bank rents for its workers to park. So I got out on the road from the bank entrance, which gives more room from the stoplight traffic.

I'd finally gotten a text to The Pony that I was being delayed, and would get there as soon as possible to relieve him of the patient. I told him I was skipping the store trip, and only finishing up my business in Sis-Town. Then it was on to the Casey's, where the entire population of Sis-Town decided they needed to be at the very moment I arrived:

 

That lady behind the counter talking of the phone was not ringing up any customers! I'm not even sure she was talking to an actual person. She maybe only uttered one sentence. The other guy was out on his break, smoking. I saw him on the sidewalk as I went in. So it took a long time to buy my scratchers. In fact, I had half a mind to walk out, but I'd already parked and hauled myself in, and waited through half the line. Good thing I stayed. I got a $60 winner.

Back outside, having been rung up by the man while the woman still stood with the phone, avoiding eye contact... I saw that I was the victim of a close-parker!

 

Lucky for me, I'd snagged the space next to the handicap walkway (though the actual handicap parking space was on the other side of it). So I didn't have to wait for the close-parker to leave in order to get T-Hoe's door open. I don't know how the close-parker got out of his truck! Maybe from the passenger side? Maybe he was a stick-man? He had to fold in his mirror to even park there! If you look closely in the mirror, you can see how tight the space was between us. And I didn't even cheat over! I was squarely in my space, not needing to cheat, what with the striped handicap walkway abutting T-Hoe's driver's door.

From there, I mailed Genius's letter at the drive-thru mailbox at the edge of the post office parking lot where The Pony fell down the faulty-railed metal steps of the loading dock. Then went to the School-Turn Casey's for other scratchers. All the spaces were parked in, so I had to go around the block. By this time, I had called The Pony, who was leaving the Mansion, what with Farmer H saying he was DRIVING HIMSELF to the Senior Center for a fried-fish lunch. Upon trying to get out on the main road from the Casey's side street, my view of the four-way stop was blocked by a giant camper:

 

Just as I was ready to pull out, a car would come barrelling from the stop sign, making me jam on the brakes and wait. After 6 or 7 false starts, I made my getaway. Since there was no longer any urgency, I stopped by Country Mart anyway for some sale meat to grill for the Labor Day holiday.

But I forgot the ice cream, which was one of the main items I went for, Farmer H having procured some good-enough medicine, and wishing to resume stoking his sweet tooth.

Quite an exhausting day. I might as well have slept in, and mailed that letter at my leisure,

This One's On Me

The Wednesday night warming of the beans. Not the running of the bulls, but still a mishap waiting to happen.

I put a serving of beans in my copper-bottom saucepan. No need to use the whole cauldron where I cooked them. Just some for Farmer H, with mine to be warmed later. He was in no hurry to eat, having feasted on a thick slab of meatloaf at the Senior Center for lunch. Even treated Old Buddy. The price is right: $5.00. The sides were mashed potatoes and carrots.

Anyhoo... I wanted to scratch my lottery, and set the pot of beans on the back burner.

"I'm going to let your beans start warming. If I can get this burner to work. It's either cold or too hot."

After 10 minutes, I took a break from my LOSERS to check on the beans. Stone cold! The bottom of the pan was frigid to the touch. So was the burner itself!

"I told you this thing doesn't work right! I've had the beans on for 10 minutes, and NOTHING. Not working at all, even though I put them between LOW and MEDIUM LOW. But if I turn them up just a little, they'll start burning!"

I adjusted the dial just a tad, and hobbled off to the bathroom. Came back and touched the bottom of the pan. Still ice cold! But wait a minute... I could feel heat. Smell heat.

WHOOPSIE!

It was the FRONT burner I'd turned on! My bad. I turned it off (too big for the pan I was using) and turned on the actual back burner where the pan was sitting. To a notch between LOW and MEDIUM LOW. Within 10 minutes, the beans were warming nicely.

Farmer H really doesn't need to know this...

Mrs. HM Is Full Of Beans

Monday night, I chopped up the rest of the ham I'd used for Farmer H's ham steaks, and started a pot of beans. Did the quick boil and rapid soak method. Saved the ham to add later, when the beans were mostly done. I put in some black pepper, juice from a jar of Sweet Banana Pepper Rings, a spoonful of minced garlic. 

After simmering with the added ham, those beans were not to my liking. The ham wasn't fatty enough. So on Tuesday morning (meaning noon:30), I fried up a pound of that auction bacon we still have in the freezer, and added it. Much better!

Now the other problem. When I went to Country Mart on Monday for some Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix, all that dang store had was Jiffy with HONEY corn muffin mix! Nobody wants that in their beans! Beans are savory! So I got the store brand of corn muffins. Surely they would work just as well.

Sadly, I bought eggs to add to the corn muffin mix, but not milk! We don't drink milk, and it was not on my mind. A quick consult with my estranged BFF Google showed that sour cream can be used 1 to 1 as a substitute for milk in baking. Well, there you go! I had plenty of sour cream. So I used it.

The muffins came out just right. They didn't have as much flavor as Jiffy, but that was probably a factor of the different brand, and not the sour cream for milk. They were nice firm muffins, not at all crumbly like the Jiffy sometimes.

Here's my beans:

 

Yes, it's a generous bowl. I am LITERALLY full of beans! My bowl is layered with crumbled corn muffins (1.5), diced Sweet Banana Pepper Rings, diced Vidalia onions, and of course BEANS. Mmm... so tasty. In fact, I could eat only a bit of that muffin stump slathered with butter. That's okay. My little dog Jack LOVES corn muffins. Of course I had my Shasta Diet Cola cooling in an old refill mug from Git n Go, when I lived in Springfield, MO. And my metal water juggy thingy.

I love my beans! The ones I can find under all the ham, bacon, peppers, onions, and corn muffin.