Mrs. HM Is Salty Tonight

Farmer H had plans for Saturday night. He told me on Friday night, just before he went to bed around 9:00, when I asked what he wanted for supper on Saturday. The auction was not open.

"Oh. I forgot. I'm going to a play at the junior college. The Veteran asked me. His girls are in it. You can come with me."

"No. I remember how long you were gone last year. What time is it, 7:00? You didn't get home until after 10:00."

"Yeah. The doors open at 6:00. I should probably leave at 5:00. They was already a bunch of people there last year when I got there. I'll pick up something in town to eat when I come home from my store."

Of course he didn't. He said he was going to get something to eat on the way. Since last year, he almost starved, he wasn't going to wait until after. 

Anyhoo... since I didn't have to cook anything, I decided to get something from the Country Mart deli when I picked up our bananas. 

Well. Have I mentioned the quality of the food has gone downhill? Downhill faster than an Olympic skier trying to earn a gold medal in the ski jump.

I figured I'd get a 2-piece dark meat dinner. Good thing, since there were three dried-out pieces of fish skin, two crusty chicken tenders, and the bin of fried chicken, which was fairly full. The lady who plays the lottery and tells me about her wins was working.

"I'll have the two-piece dark meat dinner."

"Oh! THIS doesn't look very good!"

She started stirring a bin of some kind of pale noodle, that was all dried-out on top.

"What IS that? Some kind of white sauce noodle?"

"Yes. What sides would you like?"

"Hmm. You're all out of green beans. So I guess I'll take the potato wedges. For both sides."

"Yeah. There's not a lot of choices."

"That's right. I don't want those noodles. I'm not a fan of the corn, or the macaroni and cheese. I don't want mashed potatoes. So that leaves the potato wedges."

That gal was really nice. She even asked if I wanted two thighs instead of the standard thigh and leg, and didn't charge me extra. AND she remembered to offer me the roll. So I felt like I was getting my money's worth this time.

Well. Their chicken is usually tasty enough. But this time, I could barely eat it. Oh, I DID eat it, heh, heh. But it was kind of a chore.

That chicken tasted like it had been marinated for three days on the bottom of the Great Salt Lake. Then rolled in a batter consisting primarily of Pink Himalayan Salt. Then perched upon a pedestal of livestock salt blocks to cure. Then deep-fried, and dusted with an entire canister of Morton Salt. When it rains, it pours, you know.

I have a feeling I will be a heavy drinker tonight...

Until It Wasn't

Thursday was definitely one of those days... until it wasn't. When I got home, Farmer H had brought me "lunch" from the Senior Center. Of course he left it sitting on the cutting block. Good thing he only got home a few minutes before me. 

"I brung you some lunch."

"I don't want it now. I barely had my banana and cereal. Put it in the fridge. What is it?"

"Some kind of noodle with chicken. Corn. A breadstick. Salad. And apple pie." Farmer H opened the containers to show me.

"Oh. Well. You can have it for supper if you want. If you liked it. The only thing I would eat would be the noodles. I'm not a fan of corn or pie, and I don't like those kind of breadsticks. That salad I might have later, to use for lettuce on a chicken patty sandwich. It's hardly enough to call a salad. The Chinese sweet & sour sauce comes in a container twice that size!"

"Yeah. I can have it. If you don't want it. They really loaded me up. They didn't offer me any extra yesterday, when we had a slab of pork!"

So... it's the thought that counts. And I didn't have to make supper for Farmer H. Just my own, later, when it was convenient for me.

AND when I scratched my lottery tickets, I had a total of $92 in winnings! Not bad for a rained-on fat lady who was locked out of her credit union...

One Of Those Days

Rain was forecast for my errand day. Farmer H and I watched the morning weather, and it looked like we would get little to nothing. Maybe a half inch over two days. I saw nary a drop all morning. Nothing. Until 1:30, when I was getting ready to shower. Even then, it wasn't much. Just visible drops in Poolio out the kitchen window.

By the time I got over to Sis-Town and the Casey's for T-Hoe's gas, it was a steady rain. Though not a downpour. I got a little damp walking in to pay. The little guy who rang up my scratchers had trouble with the scanner. It did every ticket twice. So he had to void one. He didn't mess up, and was polite. So there's that. But they were out of my favorite ticket, the $5 crossword.

On my way out the door, a guy and his not-yet-school-age daughter were behind me. I hadn't really noticed them at the next register. Just in my peripheral vision. The little girl practically yelled, "That lady is fat!" I guess the dad felt a little bad by the third time she said it. So he said, "That's not nice." Heh, heh. At least I'm not ugly! And at least she didn't have a shrill whistle.

I made it through the post office street to mail the letters, without any vehicles taking my turn at the 5 WAY STOP. Still raining. I parked at my credit union to go in and ask about a CD that matures on Sunday. We want to put it into a new CD with a higher interest rate. I hobbled to the door, getting damper by the moment, shielding the envelope with my paperwork in my armpit.

YANK! That was my shoulder almost coming out of the socket. The door WAS LOCKED! It was not even 3:30 yet, and they're open until 4:00. Except they're not. Anymore. An orange sign on the glass door said the hours have changed. 

The lobby is only open until 11:00 a.m. now! Sweet Gummi Mary! Who is up at that Not-Heavenish hour to do their business? They DO have it open from 3:30 to 5:30 on Fridays. And the drive-thru is open most of the day. No way can I go through that drive-thru with T-Hoe! Even my mom's car was too high for it. It's the old-fashioned kind with a metal tray that slides out. Our other financial institution over in Bill-Paying Town has one like that. It was a headache to try and reach stuff in it, so now if I go there I park and go inside. Because THEY have normal business hours...

Not really a good day for Mrs. HM. But it got a little better after I arrived home...

The Loiterers

I was surprised early last week when I parked at Country Mart and saw a sign on their glass doors: No Loitering. Huh. I have not noticed anyone in that area. It's on the second set of glass doors, which they have blocked off to make an employee break room. I used to go in that entrance all the time. It's by the deli and their used-to-be pharmacy. Farmer H says they closed the pharmacy, and have partnered with another one nearby.

Anyhoo... these glass doors no longer open, and there's a metal bench in front of them. I've seen employees taking a smoke break there. Saw a man walking back to his car sit down to take a phone call one time last year. But that's it.

When I got to the real entrance door, they had ANOTHER No Loitering sign. Something must be going on for them to start posting signs about loitering.

I found out this week when I saw two dudes sitting on a metal bench that's around the corner of the store. Down by where I like to park, where that gal on a bicycle blocked me in one time. One dude had a duffel bag, Army green, that looked stuffed full of something. Of course I did not park there! I don't need an audience while climbing in and out of T-Hoe. But I was highly suspicious that these were LOITERERS.

Inside at the left lottery machine, I sensed a tall thin dude walk behind me. I saw him as he went through the double doors. His longish hair was a bit unkempt, and he was wearing pajama pants. He had come out of the hall where the bathrooms are. The cashiers started talking amongst themselves.

"Well, what are you gonna do?"

"I know. Lots of times, they come in with really young kids."

"There's no reason anybody can't find a job these days. Everywhere is hiring."

"Yeah. It's just not right."

I assume these were some of the LOITERERS that the signs were meant for. Pajama Dude was standing right there in the vestibule while they were discussing him. He was looking at something on the wall. Maybe a bulletin board with possible odd job stuff, or perhaps tear-off strips for guitar lessons like George Costanza ripped off that broke his wallet...

Anyhoo... when I went back to T-Hoe and drove around the corner, I saw that now there was a girl with the dudes. Maybe 10-11 years old. Just pacing back and forth. Not sure what's going on here.

Farmer H's Friend Indeed

Since Farmer H has returned to working in his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store 2), he sometimes debates how early to leave the Mansion.

"I told some guys I'd be down there by 7:00, but I'm waiting until I go poop. I don't want to get down there and have to go. It's not as bad now that I can walk again, and don't have to use the walker or cane. But I'd still rather go at home."

Yes. A delicate matter. I might behoove Farmer H to eat his banana and something else for breakfast before he goes (to the SUS2, I mean), and not on the way, after picking up a Casey's donut. I suggested that scenario, but Farmer H only tried it on the day he had an eye doctor appointment that necessitated keeping him around while his eyes were dilated. Of course it worked! I know Farmer H's habits!

Anyhoo... as Farmer H feared, he felt the need to make a trip to the Port-A-Potty shortly after he opened his SUS2. At least he can lock up the door while he's away, and not worry about being ripped off. But now Farmer H has another concern.

"Them darn people down there stole all the toilet paper out of the Port-A-Potty! THREE BIG ROLLS they put in there, and those idiots took all three!"

"Well. If you're gonna be a thief, I guess it makes sense to take as much as you can get. Times are hard. I guess people can't afford toilet paper."

"They could have left one! For people who need it!"

"What did you do?"

"Lucky for me, my buddy down there had some McDonald's napkins in his truck, and he gave them to me. I'm gonna start carrying a roll of toilet paper in my truck."

That's a true friend. One who'll help you wipe your butt. Figuratively, of course.

The Problem, Perhaps, With T-Hoe

A few days ago, I was coming home from town around 5:30. Temps were in the upper 70s. When I got to our gravel road, I put down my window. I like to smell the evening air, even thought it's currently full of tree pollen that makes me all throat-cleary and snorty.

As I started up Farmer H and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill, I heard a rattle! It was coming from outside the vehicle. Under my seat area, perhaps. Or in front of it, underneath the chassis. Every time I hit a bump (frequent, on that Hill), I heard the rattle.

It was a sound like two pieces of chrome knocking together. Not a sturdy thump. A light rattle.

I described it to Farmer H. He frowned a bit. Said what it might be. I wasn't really listening. I just wanted him to agree to take T-Hoe for a short test drive and hear it for himself. He agreed to do it on Sunday evening.

When Farmer H returned, he said,

"I'm pretty sure it's what I said. A loose rubber gasket on the stabilizer bar."

Don't hold me to that. It's what I THINK he said. Mrs. HM's knowledge of cars is just shy of her knowledge of world geography. When Farmer H talks in car language, I hear Charlie Brown's teacher. 

Farmer H says he will take T-Hoe to Mick the Mechanic and have him put it up on the lift and see what's wrong. I think Farmer H should stand right beside him. Saying what he thinks it is. So Mick doesn't tell him T-Hoe needs a whole new front end.

I don't trust mechanics these days. Especially after Mick told Farmer H that SilverRedO needed something twice as expensive as the local dealer's mechanic told him...

Farmer H Lives In A Different World

I live in Hillmomba. Farmer H lives in Denial.

There is a problem with T-Hoe, so I sent Farmer H out to take him for a test drive down the gravel road. We'll get to that issue tomorrow. Meanwhile, I had to give Farmer H instructions.

"The keys are in the side of my purse. Wait! What in the Not-Heaven are you doing? You don't need to open that! The SIDE OF MY PURSE! What don't you understand about SIDE of PURSE? Right in front of you. Reach your hand down in. I don't know why you think you have to unsnap a flap on the other side!"

"Well. You said the side of the purse. So I was opening up the other side."

"I don't know how you've managed to live this long! Now when you back out of the garage, don't snap off my mirror like you did before. And when you come back, make sure you park so that I can get the door open all the way. Don't get too close to the wall, and don't park where the door hits one of those 2x4s."

"I can get your car in and out of the garage, HM."

"OH! And listen to the garage door when it goes up and down. It makes a horrible metallic snapping sound. I've been telling you about that. I think it needs some grease. 

I don't want to be killed by that spring breaking and piercing my skull."

"The spring isn't going to break, HM."

"It did before, didn't it??? And you made me take the pieces to the garage door shop to get a new one! It snapped, but luckily it shot a different direction than my head."

"It DID break before. But this one is fine."

Said the man who lives in Denial.