Mrs. HM Might Have Dodged A Winner

When I set out to buy my daily scratchers, I have a plan. I know where I'm going, and which tickets I want. Any deviation from my goal throws me off. Is The Universe telling me my plan was wrong? Is there something better waiting? Or is The Universe deliberately thwarting my chances to win?

Thursday, the plan was fine when we stopped for T-Hoe's gas at Casey's. I had given The Pony some ticket money, but The Pony said nothing stood out in the lottery display, and decided to wait for Country Mart's machines. I got my tickets, which later turned out to have a $30 winner.

At Country Mart, BOTH lottery machines were dark. NOT WORKING! So we went without tickets, and bought our groceries. I offered to go to the School-Turn Casey's before dropping off Pony, but after careful consideration, that idea was nixed. I had thought about stopping by myself, on the way home, and use their bathroom while there, but decided against it.

I sensed a bad omen as I approached the Gas Station Chicken Store. Traffic was so backed up at the light, I had to wait two light cycles before I could even make my left turn into the alley. That's never happened before. The parking lot didn't look all that crowded. Just a couple of trucks with work trailers attached, and a couple other cars. My rightful handicap space was available. But Fave's car was missing! AND it looked like Man Owner's truck was there.

Well. This is unusual for 4:45 on a Thursday. I took in the weekly tickets I give Fave, but in my pocket, unseen, in case she was truly not there. She wasn't. I'll tell you who WAS there: Man Owner on the second register, Woman Owner on the main register, and 8 MEXICANS lined up down the middle aisle.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against Mexicans. I am just describing, as usual, the people I encounter who affect the smooth running of my life. They were obviously a work crew, all wearing jeans and white t-shirts and yellow vests. Kind of dusty. Sweaty. Each holding a bottle of soda and a snack. One was already checking out with Woman Owner. He was choosing a couple scratchers from the case.

Here's the thing. There was a bit of a language barrier. So the transaction was slower than a regular transaction. At least he was paying with cash, not having to try a card three times in their old-fashioned card-reader. Also, Man Owner is really slow. So I could imagine how it was going to go when he took the next customer.

NO WAY was I going to wait until my turn. I am not a hot-headed hurrier needing instant gratification. It's just not physically comfortable for me to stand for a long time. Not to mention, the GSCS makes me claustrophobic when it's full of people. So I left. I hate to do that, after having my parking space, and expending that knee energy to walk inside. But I could not wait.

I went over to 10Box to the machines. Where I got a few small winners, but nothing special. I wonder what magificent jackpot I might have missed! I called The Pony later to tell my tale of misfortune.

"So you're complaining about the Mexicans for doing what you do? Buying lottery?"

"YES! Nothing against them! They are obviously hard workers, happy to be getting a snack after a hard day before going home. But there were SO MANY of them! At least 15 or 20 minute's worth of transactions! Fave would have been faster by herself than those two Owners. But I've walked out on Fave, too, when it's crowded. Usually five people is my limit. I had no idea there were so many customers inside. I don't know where all the Mexicans fit in those two trucks. I hope they weren't riding in the trailers! I think there were probably lawnmowers and stuff in them."

At least I didn't lose my money or winners in the machines at Country Mart, because they were turned off. The best scenario, besides me getting a big winner at the GSCS, is that one of the Mexicans got a good winner. They are working for a living, you know, while Mrs. HM sits on her rumpus and complains...

Moochers Gonna Mooch

Beware when the Hillbilly family comes to town! Lock up your valuables and assorted and sundry items that might be lying around. They not safe! You have been warned!

At the closing for the sale of our upper 10 acres, the title company had a couple of jars sitting on the table. One held red and blue pens, and the other held peppermint Lifesaver candies, indivicually wrapped. The Pony and I were only a couple minutes behind Farmer H when we entered the conference room. Yet Farmer H already had two empty wrappers in front of him!

I know these items were set out for the taking. Hospitality, you know. And when we are the BUYERS at a closing, we get a little gift bag with advertising merch like magnets and notepads and such. They write it off their taxes, get free advertising, and the clients feel special. Like they've gotten something for nothing, although thousands of dollars have just changed hands.

Anyhoo... when Closer came in, she took three pens out of the jar, and shoved them across the table to us. I had already taken one red and one blue from the jar, because I like pens. But I sure did accept a third one! 

On Thursday, before I picked up The Pony for our errand day, I asked if he would bring his monthly house payment. 

"Actually, I will write it in the car. I don't have a pen."

"WHAT? Didn't you just get one on Tuesday, at the closing?"

"No! I put mine back in the jar. Because I was not a part of this transaction. Only there to help you. So I didn't DESERVE a pen!"

Huh. I hope The Pony wasn't switched at birth! How could The Pony NOT take a pen? A pen that was actually GIVEN by the closer running the closing? Something's fishy here. We are MOOCHERS, by cracky! Maybe The Pony was still getting over last week's under-the-weatherness...

Delicacy Is On The Tongue Of The Chower-Downer

Years ago, while attending graduate school in Springfield, (the future) Mrs. HM worked in an insurance salvage store part-time. It bought railroad cars full of stuff that businesses had declared a loss. We had everything from boots to lumber to bedspreads to toys to furniture. One big deal was the Winter in July sale, where we had winter coats out on the parking lot, hung up in semi trucks, for the shoppers to peruse. To steal a line from a country song, it was hot enough to make the devil sigh, working to hang coats in that heat.

Anyhoo... my boss, the owner, was a big bald man. He kind of looked like Mr. Clean, but without the pirate-y earring. He wasn't around all the time, but when he popped in, he would tell us stories about when he was a kid.

Owner grew up on a big farm, with a big family. They had to work all the time, raising cows and pigs and chickens and crops. His mom "didn't work," what with being so busy cooking all the time to feed that hungry family. Owner said they butchered their own livestock, and his mom was a good cook. But the very best meal, that he didn't get often, was SPAM! 

You know, SPAM, the canned meat that is popular in Hawaii, that was mainly used for U.S. military rations in WWII. Owner said he LOVED IT! That it was so different from the wholesome home-grown foods that he was used to. It was a real treat when his father brought home a couple of cans of SPAM.

Heh, heh. I found this entertaining, because the off-brand of SPAM, like Hydrox Cookies are to Oreos, was a canned meat product called TREET.

Wash Your Produce, People!

That's something I shouldn't have to tell you. Whether you get your fruits and vegetables from your own garden, a farmer's market, or the grocery store, it's common sense. Like washing your hands before eating. You never know what kind of vermin might have been lurking around your produce. So unless it's something like a banana that gets peeled, with the fruit having been hermetically sealed inside, wash your produce!

I was in Save A Lot on Monday. Had just cart/walked in, headed for their scratcher machine, when I heard it. A COUGH. A deep hacking cough. Over in the produce section. The lemons, oranges, and grapes specifically. A family of four (mom and three teenage kids) was standing around a cart, debating what to get. Again, THE COUGH. It was a boy (of course), not bothering to cover his mouth by elbow, hand, or shirt neck. Just spraying out to land on the produce!

Wash your produce, people!

I only bought a half-loaf of Nutty Oat Bread, and seven bananas. I even wiped my bananas with a damp paper towel when I got them home. And washed my hands, of course!

The Squirrels!

Too bad Alfred Hitchcock isn't around to make a sequel to The Birds. He could save on animal trainers and just film our porch for footage of THE SQUIRRELS. 

I don't know why Farmer H's buddy hasn't been out here hunting them. He could have enough to fill his freezer for the winter, just by taking the legal limit per day. I think that's 13, but I'm not sure. I guess maybe he has a real job, and can't be filling his idle hours to fill his larder.

These beasts grow bolder by the day. Saturday, one jumped from the porch rail to the WINDOW SCREEN at my right shoulder. Well. It would have been at my right shoulder, had I been sitting at HIPPIE at the kitchen table. Thankfully I was at the sink washing dishes. I might have had a heart attack. That couldn't be blamed on Farmer H!

That dang window squirrel went up the screen, then back down head first, then up again, making sure to cover every path imaginable across that 4 x 6 foot screen. There are several punctures in it, but no long cuts. I hate squirrels! I clapped, I yelled, I thumped on the wall so it could feel vibrations, but it paid me no mind.

On the side porch, the squirrels have knocked down several items this week. A see-through flat red apple that was part of a wind chime. A big ceramic thingy shaped like a hornet nest, with little colored lights embedded. I think that was made by my grandma, and given to The Pony, though I'm not sure why it was on the porch shelves. Also, Farmer H's BBQ tongs were on the porch, having been knocked off GassyG Jr. 

As I left for town, ranting about those squirrels, who were scattering down the porch posts, my poor little Jack looked sad. I assured him I was NOT talking to him. I know he's a GOOD BOY, and has never bothered the BBQ tongs. Without Pupsie around, I don't want Jack to be blamed for the squirrel shenanigans.

Farmer H's theory that the squirrels would be drawn away from the porch, to eat corn from the feeders The Hunter put in the woods, does not seem to be accurate.

The Giver Of Guilt

Mrs. HM is feeling guilty today, my friends. Guilty! Through no fault of her own! Guilty for losing on a $5 scratcher. That's not under her control, you know! It's the LOTTERY, for cryin' out loud! It's not like she can snap her fingers, or twitch her nose, and VOILA, a winner appears.

Friday I went in 10Box for crosswords and the new Tetris-themed tickets. The day was sunny, so I planned to get some out of each machine. With my recent rumpus/leg struggles, I took a cart from the corral to push inside.

A lady was scanning draw tickets at the right-side machine. She had her cart of groceries parked in front of the left-side machine. I do that, too, because of how the machines are arranged in a corner. I move it if somebody walks up looking like they want to buy lottery. I was not at all annoyed as I might have been with different circumstances. I had a cart/walker to lean on. The lady was polite.

"Oh. Do you want to use that machine?"

"I'm planning to use both of them, but you're fine. I brought in this cart to lean on, because me knees get sore when I stand. I'm okay."

"Here. Go ahead."

The Lady moved her cart over behind her, as I do when at the right-side machine. I went to the left-side machine, and scanned in my winners. We had a pleasant conversation about the new ticket. And how you have to watch those machines, because they will scan in to show how much you won, but they don't always give you the credit when you tap the screen. So you have to scan again.

I got two crosswords and two Tetris. Then moved my cart around to be out of the way, and wait for The Lady to finish at the right-side machine. She did, and moved to the left. We made our purchases. As I was putting the tickets in my purse, The Lady turned. She held out a $5 bill.

"Here. Buy yourself a winner!"

"Oh. Well. You don't have to do that!"

"I want to!"

"Thank you so much! I'll give it a try."

I felt bad. I don't need her $5. But she wanted to give it to me. It made her feel good. Who am I to ruin her happiness? So I bought a $5 ticket that I hadn't planned on.

It lost.

That's not my fault, right? I shouldn't feel guilty. But I wish I could have gotten The Lady some return for her do-gooder-ness.