T-Hoe's Mystery Is Nothing To Sneeze At

As I was getting out of T-Hoe at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Monday, I saw something white on my black pants. Like lint, a couple of pieces. I brushed it off, noticing that it seemed to be pieces of a tissue. When I came back out, I saw that one of the Puffs With Lotion that I have on the console had a raggedy edge. Huh. I supposed that one might have blown over as I was getting in, and maybe I'd closed a piece of it in the seatbelt latch. Not a big deal. I put the raggedy tissue in my purse to bring into the Mansion and throw away.

On Tuesday, as I hoisted myself into T-Hoe in the garage, I noticed more flecks of tissue on the floor. That was odd. And the seatbelt buckle was not lying on the console and tissues where I leave it. The buckle had fallen into the crevice between the console and the seat. Well. Maybe I had hit it with my purse as I got out. 

But wait! The stack of four tissues was askew. And the edge of all four in the stack was raggedy. I don't think I could have done that without noticing. As I tried to make sense of this on my way down the gravel road, it dawned on me...

I THINK T-HOE HAS A MOUSE!!!

EEK! Such a thought makes me feel unclean! Violated! What if a mouse (even a cute little big-eared field mouse) is roaming T-Hoe once I get out? Where is it when I'm driving??? 

I asked Farmer H later that evening if it's possible that a mouse could be in T-Hoe.

"Anything is possible."

"How would it get in?"

"If a mouse wants to get in a car, it gets in. It could come through the vents. You cain't stop 'em. What makes you think you have a mouse?"

I explained the tissue situation.

"It could happen. I need to get a sticky trap."

"There's a regular trap under the sink. A pack from years ago, when we had one in the basement. You can put a piece of cheese in it, and set it on the floor on the passenger side."

"Here. Give it to me. I'll take it outside right now."

Farmer H got a mousetrap, and I gave him a piece of the soft Oberle cheese.

"You can mold that around the trap. Probably once you get outside, so you don't set it off on the way."

"Yeah. I don't wanna snap my fingers."

Farmer H was back a few minutes later. 

"Well. I set it off. It hurt! Caught my finger in it!"

"Genius used to do that, when it was his job to set them. I don't know what I'll do if I go outside tomorrow, and there's a mouse in the trap! I guess it will just have to ride to town with me, and you can get it later..."

I'm not sure if I want to see a mouse or not! It would explain my tissue situation. But then again, it would mean there has been a mouse in T-Hoe!!!

Another Reason Jack Needs An Adopted Canine Sibling

I'm still trolling the rescue and city dog pound sites for a companion for my little Jack. I suppose it's a good thing that I'm not seeing many new prospects. Good for the dogs, I mean. Not good for Jack. 

There was a pretty Australian Shepard on there a couple days ago, but her owner was found. I'm glad they were reunited. She was not a good candidate for us anyway. Having had our Scarlett for over a year, I'm leery of that breed, because they are so active and need a purpose. Scarlett's seemed to be roaming. I really miss her since Farmer H gave her away, but he sees her new family, and she is doing well.

A couple days ago, when temps were in the 70s, Farmer H said, "I need to go out and fix the lattice around the porch, where Jack tore it down."

OH NO HE DIDN'T! Meaning both Farmer H's statement, as well as Jack's alleged crime.

"That was not Jack! Jack has always taken that shortcut under the porch, from the fake fish pond to the brick sidewalk. You couldn't even tell the lattice was messed up. He came through a corner at the bottom, and it flapped right back into place. PUPSIE is the one who tore out the whole section! Following Jack, with her full-grown body, and bulldozing through it."

"Yeah. Well. Maybe..."

"See? This is why I have to find a companion for Jack! So he doesn't get blamed for everything that goes wrong around here. That lattice has been down for a long time. It never seemed to bother you before. You just left it."

Well. It's 21 degrees today, with winds gusting to 20 mph. The lattice is still down. Jack still needs a companion.

Oh, The Weather Outside Is Not-Right-Ful

This is December 28th. We are (barely) in the winter season. Yet temps today were in the 70s. I knew that was in the forecast. Supposedly temps would be falling all day, getting into the 20s tonight. When I left for town, I wore a short-sleeve shirt and a jacket.

What in the NOT-HEAVEN??? It was 74 degrees at 2:45! And by the time I got home at 3:30, it was 78! That's not winter weather! In town, I saw a woman come out of 10Box with her young son. He was maybe 4-5 years old. Wearing shorts. And BAREFOOT! Not that there's anything wrong with that at 78 degrees.

Once home, the wind kicked up. I was just in time. The trees out back were whipping to and fro. POOLIO's cover puffed up. POOLIO looked like a foil pan of Jiffy Pop popcorn! 

I sent Farmer H a text to be careful of the wind. He replied that he was not taking the highway, but the back roads, because SilverRedO was having an issue. Which might have been good or bad. No winds whipping at high speed while he was driving in the open. But the chance of trees lining the back roads to whack SilverRedO with a broken limb.

Farmer H made it home just fine. Warmed his supper of leftovers. Then we heard a loud noise from the front porch. Farmer H went out to check.

"It was my Indian. The one sitting to the right of the door. It fell over. And BROKE! Into a bunch of pieces!"

"I thought the Indian was on the left side of the door."

"I have one on both sides. DID."

"I guess it's not repairable?"

"No. It's done. I'm going to lay the other one down, just in case."

Supposedly we were only at a "1" level risk of severe storms. The top being 5. This weather was supposed to hit Illinois, east and a bit north of us. At least Farmer H and SilverRedO were safe from falling limbs. We can spare a porch Indian.

The Selflessness Of Farmer H

Farmer H made a great personal sacrifice for the family on the day after Christmas. He CLOSED HIS SUS2.5 for the day! Let's remember that Farmer H has opened up his Storage Unit Store 2.5 on other holidays. He has even left after a holiday meal to go sell his wares. He made sure to point out that this would be the first time in the three years he has been open at this location that he has been CLOSED on a Friday!

I don't think it's such a big deal. You can sell junk any time, but you only get a limited number of Christmases with your son who shows up once a year from Pittsburgh.

Apparently, at least one person (besides Farmer H) thought it WAS a big deal.

As we were taking the exit ramp on our approach to the casino, A-Cad's radio rang. That's because Farmer H's phone is set to come through the radio. He recognized the caller's name, and pushed the button to answer.

"Just checking on you, buddy. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm with the family, and we're going to the casino today."

"Okay. That's good. I know you never miss a Friday, and I was worried when you wasn't here. Have a good visit with your family for the holidays."

"I will. Thanks for checking on me."

That was a nice thing to do. Some people are genuinely fond of Farmer H.

Mrs. HM Gets An Exercism

On Friday, the Hillbilly family had their annual holiday excursion to the casino. Genius and Friend met us there, since they were staying adjacent to the city. The Pony drove out to the Mansion to ride along with Sweaving Farmer H. He gave up a day at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) to join in and most importantly DRIVE US.

Let the record show that this casino requires a lot of walking. A skill which Mrs. HM does not so much possess these days. I took my cane. The path from where Farmer H dropped me off, to the doors of the casino, was composed of bricks. Bricks that were sweaty in the unseasonable 70-degree temps on December 26. I proceeded slowly and cautiously. No good can come of Mrs. HM smashing her noggin on bricks! 

It was 10X farther than Mrs. HM is used to walking into the Gas Station Chicken Store. But once I unstiffened my knees from the 65-minute ride, I was okay. I caned all around that casino. Including 4 or 5 trips to the bathroom. We were there from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. I was sitting most of the time, but still, I had to move to different slots, and make those bathroom trips. There are only two bathrooms in the casino. at opposite ends of the facility. 

There was a moment of angst on the 3rd bathroom trip! The actual facilities are great. Doors all the way to the ground. Rails on both sides of the handicap stall. The problem was that something in my right knee decided to lock up when I arose from the throne. It was so painful! I could not straighten it fully. Nor put weight upon it. I was poised, a hand on each rail, as if I was an Olympic gymnast on the parallel bars. It took forever, and much turning and testing of that knee, before I was able to cane my way out.

People in the casino mirror society. They care only about themselves, and not about hobbly Mrs. HM! So many times someone would cross right in front of me, making me stop quickly to avoid them. Not an easy feat for wobbly cane-y Mrs. HM! I would surely have given the right-of-way to a differently-abled person back when I was able-bodied! Out of the 10 people who darted across my path, one lady said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cut you off." And that made it okay. She understood. The last guy, as we were on the way out, at least said, "Excuse me." The other 80% were rumpusholes! 

Anyhoo... I got a lot of walking in on Friday. Once I was up and going, my knees were not too painful. As long as I didn't rush, I felt comfortable caning all around the casino. Until someone would make me come to a sudden stop.

Idiot Or Liar

I went to my pharmacy on the eve of Christmas Eve. I wanted to pick up my prescription refill before the holidays and the weekend. I called it in through the automated system on Tuesday at 7:30 a.m. Plenty of time, right? But no. Apparently my doctor (nurse practitioner) had not called in refills after my yearly appointment, even though he said he was doing so. That means I got a standard message to allow an extra business day for the request. I was sure they would see the prescription refills had been submitted. 

But no.

I called Wednesday at 1:00, to see if it was ready. No. But the gal said she could push it ahead and have it ready in 20 minutes.

"Oh, I won't be there for 90 minutes. No need to rush." I just want to make sure it's there before I wait in line to get it."

"We can have it ready for you."

An hour and 15 minutes later, T-Hoe and I rolled up to the drive-thru window. The gal had her back to the window. I could not reach the little doorbell thingy on the wall, to notify them of my presence. The giant concrete pole there makes me give a wider berth, and my arms are not those of an orangutan.

Anyhoo... after a 5-minute wait, The Gal came to the window. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were waiting."

"That's okay. I can't reach your doorbell."

Blank stare. Then I gave my name and birthdate.

"I'll go see if we have that."

The Gal came back, with a bag in her hand. "That will be $63.84."

"Oh. Well. Has it gone up? Because for years, it has been $53.52."

"Seems like everything has gone up. Besides money, heh, heh."

That got a blank stare from me. "Was it run on insurance? Because I pay cash. It's cheaper than with insurance."

"It says CASH."

"Well. Okay." I handed her my debit card. Then she went off to the farther ranges of the pharmacy. After five minutes, she returned. Punched something into her cash register. Gave me the clipboard with a receipt to sign.

"I had them put it back."

"What do you mean, put it back?"

"To the other price. The $53.52."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you so much."

Here's the thing. Something is off. Either it wasn't run through as a cash transaction, or The Gal was blowing smoke. If it was truly run as a cash transaction, my price should have been the same. In any case, I don't think they can just "put it back" to a price I quote them. I think somebody ran my prescription on insurance. Then when I complained, they ran it through again as a cash transaction. 

The Gal was goofier than Farmer H trying to find his way around a kitchen.

The Watched Pot Boils

That's not a euphemism for Mrs. HM blowing her top at some Farmer H shenanigans. This is literally about a boiling pot. Which I'm sure you surmised from the thumbnail. Darn Blogger, taking the mystery out of my clickbait titles!

On Monday, I tried to get a start on Christmas dinner preparations by boiling 40 eggs. I actually had 54 eggs, but 9 were needed for the Oreo Cakes. And I figure that Farmer H might want some ham and eggs with the leftover ham.

I boiled them in two shifts. They don't always come out right if I crowd the pot. Besides, that pot is heavy enough with the water and 20 eggs. I sure don't want to spill boiling water down my legs! Nine minutes, that's how long I boil them. I start them in tapwater, and let it heat up to a boil. After that, it's nine minutes. Then I transfer the pot to the sink, fill it with cold water, dump that out, and fill the whole pot with cold water. 

I don't take care when dumping that water. I let the eggs roll out and slam into the sink. That way, they all get a crack, and the cold water they are put back into helps loosen the shell for later ease of peeling. I've tried all the so-called tricks like adding vinegar to the water. My way works best. I have peeled a lot of eggs in my time.

Here's my egg breakdown:

8 for the 7 Layer Salad

2 for side salads for finicky Pony and Genius

5 for potato salad

2 for doling out samples during deviling

5 for The Pony to take home

8 for deviling for our meal

10 for deviling to take to my sister the ex-mayor's wife's party

Of course I will start with the deviling. The whites that tear, or have a thin bottom, will be set aside and designated for the potato salad or 7 Layer Salad. They don't have to be pretty. They get chopped.

Anyhoo... I was standing at the stove, waiting for boiling to start so I could set a timer, and while I was watching...

I think this was the second pot of 20 eggs. I was trying to get a picture of them. There's the first BLOOMP of a boiling bubble, captured on phone.