Zirconium In The Ruff

She's HEEEEERE! Our temporary loaner dog, the big white long-haired pooch that looks like Copper Jack, according to Farmer H's description. Her alias is Zirconium. We have yet to be properly introduced.

When Back-Creek Neighbor Bev's husband delivered Zirc, Farmer H tied her to our glider over by the chicken pen. He said if it rained, she could get under the swing. I said the ground would still be wet. Farmer H said, "She's and outside dog, HM." Still. That's incanine to expect a dog to lie on wet ground. Lucky for Zirc, it didn't rain. Even so, I shamed Farmer H into letting Zirc off her leash when he came back home around 8:00 p.m.

 

While he was gone, I went out on the porch to get a look at Zirc. She didn't much like me, barking her fool head off in protest, even though I sweet-talked her by name. I didn't even get off the porch. No need to agitate her while she was tied up.

Through the night, I heard our dogs barking at Zirc, and Zirc barking at them. She's yapping her fool head off right now as I type this at 11:30 p.m. on Thursday. Zirc has a shrill bark, similar to Juno. I know it's Zirc, from the direction of the bark. According to Farmer H, "She hasn't got off the trailer."

At first I thought, "How sad." Believing he meant the trailer that Bev's husband left out here for safe-keeping, and she wanted to be where she last smelled his scent. But no. Farmer H meant HIS trailer, which he has parked blocking Shackytown Boulevard.

 

 

I think Zirc looks very Yellow-Lab-ish. I think Shackytown Boulevard looks very junky, from Farmer H's assorted "treasures" across the street. The maroon chicken pen, the white metal building that held hay for the goats, where Jack likes to dig in and sleep in the winter. And the blue barrels Farmer H used to make an outdoor shower when Genius's Solar Car Team stayed here on their cross-country race.

 

Anyhoo... Farmer H took the pictures for me. They're almost the same, but this second one adds 10 pounds and five years to Zirc's appearance.

 

 

Sorry, Zirc. I should have stopped with the first one! Obviously, Zirc HAS gotten off the trailer. There's no poop on it. She must feel safe there, above the other dogs as they come to look at her. In fact, I caught Zirc off the trailer on Wednesday, when I drove down into the BARn field, there at the end of Shackytown Boulevard. I could see Jack and Copper Jack milling around, and when I got out of T-Hoe, I heard and saw Zirc.

She was backed up beside the Railroad Car shed, barking her fool head off at the pair of Jacks. They stood a respectful distance, gawking. When they saw me, Jack came running and jumped his short long body against my leg for petting. Copper Jack circled behind me, to keep an eye on me. Because obviously, I can't be trusted, even though our interactions consist of me tossing him treats, and never trying to get close or pet him.

Anyhoo, when I left home, I'd cut some of those dog meatballs in half, and put them in a baggie, intending to lure Zirc with tasty treats. But no. I tossed out samples for the Jacks, and Zirc took that opportunity to run for the trailer. Only Juno was trotting toward me, scraggly bur-fur flopping in her self-created breeze. Zirc slunk beside the Schoolhouse Shack, and they barked at each other. 

 

Zirc glanced back at me, and I tossed a treat, but she didn't see it. I'm sure one of the Jacks ate it later. Most likely my little Jack, because he has a fantastic nose. While Copper Jack seems to be blind in the olfactory department. I can toss that dog tidbits on the back porch, and before he finds them, my Jack has eaten his own, and run to gobble Copper Jack's as well.

I hope our dogs start getting used to Zirc, but more importantly, that SHE gets used to THEM. So she can run with the pack, chasing the herd of squirrels that infest the back yard and porch. And the rabbits in Copper Jack's rightful yard/field. We have two spare dog houses on the opposite end of the house from Juno's mansion. Out of her sight. Zirc is welcome to take up residence in one. She'll be fine if she takes the route along the front porch, and doesn't pass Juno...

Magnetic Personality, Gravitational Pull, Or Stalkers With Ulterior Motives

Mrs. HM has an unofficial fan club. A plethora of people clamoring for her attention. Not just the usual five or six daily scam callers. They are not total strangers. Just semi strangers. I don't know them personally, but they're from my college. That's right. College. Where I attended over 30 years ago. I'm pretty sure they're not my classmates.

WHY would these current students want to talk to me? They call. They mail me postcards. They send emails. WHY am I so in-demand? Are they trying to make new friends? I'm pretty sure they don't want to chat. Or inquire about my health. I assume they might want to update my current address, phone number, and email. But they already have that, right?

WHY would they need that info? To CONTACT ME, of course. But why would they want to contact me? Here we go again.

I'm pretty sure they want money.

Seriously. Are they going to find me a job through their alumni services? I don't think so. They want a donation. Good luck with that. It's a public university. I do not feel obligated.

Almost As If Something In The Mansion Had Been MISSING Us

More shenanigans around the Mansion this month. We've had a respite this summer. Only a few late-night/early-morning THUMPS upstairs in the area of the boys' bedrooms, and their bathroom. I'm so used to those, they're not even worth reporting.

You may recall that we took a three-day trip to Oklahoma casinos. Left on Tuesday, August 31, stayed two nights, and returned the evening of Thursday, September 2. After being trapped in A-Cad and a hotel room with each other for three days, the Hillbilly family went their separate ways. The Pony soaked in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom, Farmer H mowed the yard/field, and Mrs. HM descended to her dark basement lair, where she leaves the light on now.

I stay up late. That's no secret. I have my routine. I usually write Genius's weekly letter on Wednesday nights, and mail it on Thursdays. Since we had been gone, I wrote it Thursday night. I get started, then sidetracked by the innernets, then go back to it. It's usually done by 2:00 a.m. I hit PRINT for the color printer in the basement workshop. It's the only printer that has worked for almost two years now. My HP LaserJet at my right elbow in the lair has been cantankerous. It started when I put in a new ink cartridge that was not manufactured by HP. I don't know if that has anything do to with my problem, but that's when it started. I get a message that says SPOOLING ERROR or something like it.

Anyhoo... I've adapted to using the color printer, although I print the letters in black and white. It's not as easy as having the printer at my right elbow, where I can reach out and grab the letter. I have to walk into the workshop and see if it did, indeed, print. This old printer that Genius brought home after getting a deal on it from a college office has a mind of its own. Sometimes, I have to turn it off, then on, and wait for it to run through its set-up. And it prints. Sometimes it just takes a long time. So around 2:00 a.m., I print the letter, and around 3:00 or 4:00, before going to my OPC (Old People Chair), I go to the workshop for the letter.

So... on this Thursday night, September 2, I had printed Genius's letter around 2:00 a.m. It was shortly after 3:00 a.m., perhaps 3:20, when the HP LaserJet at my right elbow whirred to life! I was shocked! What in the NOT-HEAVEN??? Slowly, I turned my head to look at it. And out came a printed piece of paper! I picked it up to see. I haven't tried to print anything on that LaserJet in over a year.

It was a Duty Status Report that The Pony had given me to make a few copies on AUGUST 18, the day before his second podiatrist appointment. He emailed it to me, I printed a few on the workshop color printer, and they came out too dark, because he had taken a scan of it with his phone. So I took one of the pages I printed, and put it on the LaserJet, lightening the exposure thingy, to make copies. The LaserJet works fine for copies. 

Anyhoo... THAT WAS BACK ON AUGUST 18. And now, on September 2, that LaserJet randomly came to life and spit out ONE copy of that Duty Status Report!

Let the record show that I was playing Candy Crush at the time. Not working in my email. I wasn't even logged in to my email. I had not tried to print anything except my WORD document at 2:00 a.m. that was Genius's letter. It was as if the LaserJet had a mind of its own! Just randomly decided to spit out a page that I had copied two weeks prior! I hadn't been missing any copies at the time, either. All that I copied came out. The original was NOT left on the glass. NOTHING was on the glass.

It was quite creepy.

_______________________________________________________________

And another thing... last Thursday, September 9, The Pony had a podiatrist appointment at 1:30. I was in no hurry to get to town for my magical elixir. Farmer H was working over at Pony House, and I had time to myself to play Candy Crush at the kitchen table on HIPPIE. I was having a great time. 

 

Around 2:20, I heard a noise in the living room. Not so much the living room as the passageway (according to Farmer H) that is the hall to the boys' bedrooms. The area that is not hall, not living room. Just before the piano that came out of my mom's house. The area by the stair rail overlook where my scarf threw itself over the side. I'd heard that sound before. I associated it with The Pony. I stopped playing Candy Crush for a moment, and looked that way. It was the area I couldn't see, on the other side of the wall behind FRIG II.

I know what it sounded like! THE VELCRO OPENING ON THE PONY'S ANKLE BOOT!

So creepy. But I knew for a fact The Pony wasn't in the Mansion with me. I was alone. The Pony was at his appointment over in Bill-Paying Town. Or maybe eating a late lunch at Steak N Shake. So creepy.

_________________________________________________________________

As The Pony is my witness, there was ANOTHER incident on Monday afternoon, September 13. The Pony had been sent home from work because they didn't have an LLV (Long Life Vehicle) for him to drive. He was doing whatever he does in his room. I was again Candy Crushing at the kitchen table. I don't recall the time, but I'm pretty sure it was between 2:00 and 3:00 p.m.

I heard a loud crash. More than a thump, but not like anything broke. Just a loud crash of an unsolid object hitting a hard floor. I muttered, "What did you DO?" Thinking it was something The Pony had initiated, but not worth the breath of hollering through the wall to get his attention.

The Pony's bedroom door opened, and he walked to the kitchen opening.

"What was THAT?"

"I don't know. I thought it was you."

"It was NOT me!"

"It sounded like your room area."

"Not in my room. Maybe in Genius's room. I'll go look... no, nothing out of place in here. I'll check the bathroom. OH! Found it! You know how I keep my stuff in that bag on the back of the sink? Well. It threw itself off on the floor. After sitting here for months, no problem. Just threw itself off. I was nowhere near it. I was laying on my bed with my computer, playing computer games."

Yeah. The Pony's bathroom just has a pedestal sink, not a vanity. He keeps some of his beauty products sitting there, things from when he moved back here, that he doesn't use regularly.

At least that was a real object that fell and made a real noise. I'm not concerned about what spurred it to fall at that moment. The other noise, and the sudden copy printout, worry me more.

It's almost as if something missed us while we were away on our trip, and is letting us know. Either a welcome, or a warning...

Like A Passel O' Visually-Challenged Men Describing An Elephant

We are getting a new dog. At least temporarily. Like a foster dog. A loaner. It is not a responsibility I take lightly. Farmer H has made the decision. Even though he casually mentioned the idea to me, and I decreed that I wanted no part of it... Farmer H agreed to the request.

Back-Creek Neighbor Bev is moving again, and has sold her current house without a new place to reside. She is boarding her cats, but not her dog. She asked Farmer H to keep the dog for her, because the dog "does not do well in a kennel." 

 

I am concerned about the reaction of our own fleabags, and that of Copper Jack. Also, since this dog used to live back over the creek from us, I figure she will go right back to that house, thinking her humans will be there. I don't want people out here assuming she's a stray, and trying to run her off, at the very least. I told Farmer H he needs to put something on our enclave's Facebook page about the dog, saying she lives here for now. So in case they think she's lost, or in case she gets into some mischief, they'll know who to contact.

She has a name, but I will call her "Zirconium" as an alias. Zirc for short. According to Farmer H, our dogs get along with Zirc. They would sometimes follow him to Back-Creek Bev's house, and play with Zirc, or eat her food, to which she did not object. She's an outside dog, at least 5 years old. This is where the description devolves.

"Is she a little yippy dog like Marley. They hated Marley!"

"No. She's as big as Juno. Maybe a little bigger."

"What kind of dog is she?"

"I don't know. She's white."

"Long hair, short hair?"

"Long hair. She's a setter."

"A white setter? Like an English setter? Does she have spots? They're bird dogs. My dad had one."

"No. Not any spots. Just plain white."

 

"Does her tail curl over her back? My grandpa had a Keeshond. White with long hair, curled tail." 

 

"No curly tail."

 

"Is she white, white? A setter? An Irish setter is red. An English setter is white with black spots."

"She's like Copper Jack. With long hair."

"I'm not sure what Copper Jack is. I'm thinking a mix of boxer and yellow lab."

"She might be kind of yellow-white."

"But long hair... is she a Golden Retriever?"

"I don't know, Val. She's a big white dog with long hair."

I should have asked how much she weighed. Maybe she's a Great Pyrenees! Anyhoo... Farmer H thinks Bev might be bringing Zirconium to the Mansion on Tuesday. He'd better be home to accept her! I told him he'll need to pet her in front of the other dogs, and give our dogs treats, so they will associate the arrival of Zirc as something positive, and TASTY!

Juno will go batcrap crazIER, having a new "intruder" to bark at 24/7. I think Jack will accept Zirc, because she's a new female for him to stick his nose up her nether regions. Copper Jack? I don't know. He mostly just barks.

I'll try to get pictures of our new temporary pet. Until then, use your imagination. I have to.

The Bone Of Contention, Hillbilly Mansion Style

Farmer H and I usually have supper around 6:30 or 7:00. That might change as the days grow shorter, but during summer, Farmer H likes to work outside, or take a dip in POOLIO in the evening. The Pony prefers to immerse himself in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom around 6:00. So he often eats his one meal a day in the afternoon, unless I am preparing something especially delectable.

As I mentioned in the comments a couple days ago, I stretched our takeout Chinese food from Friday into four more meals. After adding goodies like baby corn, water chestnuts, mushrooms, diced onion, and Hoisen sauce, I needed some meat to keep it from being just "filler," as Farmer H says. I dearly wanted to slice up the leftover pork steak that Farmer H grilled the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, but I refrained. Even Mrs. HM won't eat a 7-day-old pork steak. Not even one that's been in FRIG II all week.

My plan was to stop by Country Mart for Farmer H's weekly bananas, a jug of his Zero Calorie Tea, and some Vidalia onions. I could get a few chicken strips from the deli counter to cut up in the Chinese leftovers. Well! The Country Mart deli ain't what it used to be. They had chicken strips, but they were the size of my pinky finger! Almost as if they'd cut their regular chicken strips into halves or thirds before frying.

I went to the cold case, and found a few of their old-style chicken strips from the day before. I bought it, and a pack of cold fried chicken, figuring that would be enough to add to four servings of Chinese. When I got home, I saw that I had bought a very special chicken! It had one breast, one thigh, and 2.5 wings! The wings were useless to me. Too much work to get a little meat. So I gave them to Farmer H, who'd been planning on getting a burger at the auction. I also gave him one of the four chicken strips, since it was mostly breading.

I cut up the remaining chicken strips, and pulled the meat off the bones of the fried chicken. I'm sure you will not be surprised that I got as much breading and bones as there was meat. I set this aside in a container for the dogs' treat the next day. I added all the meat to the rice mixture, made myself a supper serving, and apportioned three dinners for us for Sunday night. No green peppers for Farmer H. No green peppers nor mushrooms for The Pony. 

Sunday around 2:00, The Pony came out of his room to warm up his meal. He added some spicy oil, which smelled really good, and opened up my head. He warmed the remaining Crab Rangoons, since I said I'd make frozen ones, along with a couple egg rolls from our frozen free Ponytail Guy stash, for myself and Farmer H.

The Pony graced me with his presence at the cutting block to dine, rather than carrying that spicily-oiled Chinese food onto my carpet by the marred coffee table. I was at the kitchen table playing Candy Crush. I could hear The Pony crunching away on those delicious Rangoons.

"HEY! I got a bone in my Chinese!"

Oops...

The Pony came to the table, waving a thin bone the size of my pinky finger. Only thinner, since my pinky finger bone is encased in flesh and skin. It was like half a wishbone. That little bone at the corner of a chicken breast.

"Oh. I guess I missed that when I pulled the chicken off the bone last night. Sorry."

"You know how I hate bones! I won't even eat real chicken, because of the bones! I was chewing, and thought I had a really crunchy sliver of bamboo shoot. Then it wouldn't chew up, and I pulled out a BONE!"

"That will forever be a bone of contention, I guess..."

Didn't stop The Pony from strapping the old feedbag right back on.

The Pool Of Prospective Employees

Thursday, I saw an unusual sight when I pulled up to the drive-thru mailboxes at the main post office to mail Genius's weekly letter. These mailboxes are at the corner of the parking lot in the back of the building, where all the USPS vehicles are parked when routes are done. The mailboxes are on a street with hardly any traffic. It is common for people (like ME) to drive on the wrong side of the road to deposit their mail into the mailbox. Otherwise, you have to have somebody riding on the passenger side of the vehicle to reach it.

 

There are two mailboxes. One used to be for local mail, and the other for out-of-town mail. The way it's been done for years now, all mail travels to Casino Town, 90 miles south, for processing, then the local stuff comes back. Seems kind of inefficient to me, but that's the government for you!

 

Anyhoo... as I pulled up, I saw paper flapping from both mailboxes:

 

 

No plastic sleeve, no lamination. Just a sheet of printer paper taped to the side of the mailbox. Good thing it wasn't raining! There was a paper on each mailbox, on each SIDE of the mailbox. You can see it hanging there on the other side, too. When I went back on Friday to mail the Sprint bill, and a rebate offer for materials Farmer H bought for Pony House... this paper, and the other one from this side of the other mailbox, were GONE! I guess somebody didn't want to enable the scofflaws driving on the wrong side of the road to mail their letters and bills. Or else somebody ripped them down to take with them.

So... if anything happens to The Pony's job, I suppose he could apply for a Rural Carrier Associate. Not this one, because the deadline is nearing. But it's a thought. I'm pretty sure his job is okay. He went off probation during his injury time. So he should be an actual City Carrier Assistant now, eligible for the uniform allowance, and able to actually purchase uniforms to look the part.

I showed The Pony this sign, and he said, 

"Oh, they have them everywhere! There's one in the bathroom inside the building."

Heh, heh. So it seems to me that the pool of prospective employees the local post office is targeting for hire are: 1) people who drive vehicles to mail their letters and bills, and 2) current employees of the local post office who have a functioning bladder and bowels.

 

Oh, and some good news from The Pony concerning MAW, the middle-aged woman who started training and probation at the same time he did, who was let go during probation for not being fast enough.

 

"Oh, Mom. I heard from MAW this afternoon. She is working at the [Town 20 Miles West] Post Office, as a CCA, and says she's done most days by 3:30. That the route they gave her is shorter than our routes. She said that she was really out of shape, after being off for six weeks."

 

Yeah. I like to hear good news concerning the post office.

Nothing Gets Your Mind Off The Denial Of Your Workman's Comp Claim Like Chinese Food!

The Pony went BACK to the podiatrist's office on Friday, concerning the matter of one single box ticked with the wrong information. Or at least an explanation of WHY, in case the podiatrist considered it the right information.

THE PODIATRIST WAS OUT! 

He was in another town, so now The Pony has to go back on TUESDAY. Even though he's returning to work on Monday. So he had to tell his supervisor that he needs to go to work late on Tuesday, to settle his doctor paperwork.

It's always something...

The Pony made a stop by The Devil's Playground for some quick breakfast foods on work mornings. He had some little fruit cups and applesauces. THEN, he treated himself to lunch at the new Chinese restaurant.

 

That's Black Pepper Chicken. The Pony wanted to take pictures because he said it looked so bright and tasty in the sunlight streaming across the table. The Pony's leftovers are in FRIG II right now, including all the green peppers, which he's saving for my leftovers.

 

And of course Crab Rangoon. The Pony brought home dinners for me and Farmer H, too. I had the Garlic Chicken, and Farmer H had Hunan Chicken.

The Pony has no qualms about sitting down to eat in a restaurant by himself. Neither does Farmer H. Nor did my dad. I guess maybe it's a man thing. I've only eaten by myself ONE TIME, when I was living in Mountain Grove, Missouri, and made the hour trip to Springfield to return (and get more) audio visual materials from The American Heart Association. 

This was so long ago! When teachers actually used the films and filmstrips in their classroom! I was teaching Life Science, and got some good stuff on health and the body systems there.

Anyhoo... I ate at a steakhouse chain like Bonanza or Ponderosa. Nothing fancy. Just a chop steak (glorified hamburger patty) and the salad bar. I was not comfortable eating by myself, but it was better than not eating, or sitting in my car (bright yellow Chevy Chevette with a thin side stripe) with a McDonald's hamburger.

I also took myself to a movie that evening, and bought myself a popcorn and soda. 

I stopped short of holding my own hand...