The Pony's friend, 2nd Bestie, came for a visit last week. As usual, they went to lunch at The Pony's favorite place, Steak N Shake.
"Did you guys have a good lunch?"
"Yes. She spilled her fries at the first bite. She ate them, though! She didn't want them to go to waste."
"Off the FLOOR?"
"Mom. We ate in my car."
"Oh. That's different. Better than the floor of Steak N Shake."
"They went down beside the seat. She fished them all out, though."
"She seems to like eating off the floor of your car..."
"I know! You're remembering the cookie, aren't you? That I told you about, after the movie that time down in Norman."
"Yeah. I can't forget that. HOW long had it been there?"
"At least a year..."
"I didn't know THAT! I thought it was just a week or two."
"No. I remember when I made the cookies, and Bestie and 2nd Bestie were full, and didn't want any more. I just didn't clean out my car."
Anyhoo... the Pony was planning a trip to the city to visit 2nd Bestie on Sunday. However, they decided to reschedule.
"She's sick. Like sick to her stomach."
"Oh, no! I hope it wasn't...um...something she...ATE! Heh, heh! I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but at the end of the sentence, I was remembering the car fries."
"It could have been. They were down on the metal track that moves the seat. And there's some grease on it."
"I'm not sure if that's worse than a year-old cookie."
"Well, YOU ate a hot dog off the porch where JACK eats!"
Yes. Yes, I did.
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Monday, June 29, 2020
It Ain't My Cup Of Cheese
When we made our trip to The Devil's Playground last week, The Pony went hog wild buying himself some items which I do not keep on hand. He spent like a college student living off his parents' dime! The Pony has champagne tastes on a store-brand soda budget. Speaking of which, he also bought himself some wine. Which I generally decree to come out of his budget. Not off my debit card. But he DID do all the legwork with my shopping list, while I ran over to Casey's for some scratchers.
One of the things he bought himself was feta cheese. Said he adds it to stuff, and sometimes just eats a few crumbles as a snack. When he sat down with supper, he took the container to the living room coffee table with him.
"Here, Mom. Try some feta cheese. It's good!"
"I don't know. Let me smell it first. WHEW! No thanks! I don't want any. It smells like FEET!"
"Heh, heh. It IS FEETA cheese, you know!"
That Pony. When he's not being excessively droll with his dry sense of humor, he can be a laugh riot.
One of the things he bought himself was feta cheese. Said he adds it to stuff, and sometimes just eats a few crumbles as a snack. When he sat down with supper, he took the container to the living room coffee table with him.
"Here, Mom. Try some feta cheese. It's good!"
"I don't know. Let me smell it first. WHEW! No thanks! I don't want any. It smells like FEET!"
"Heh, heh. It IS FEETA cheese, you know!"
That Pony. When he's not being excessively droll with his dry sense of humor, he can be a laugh riot.
Sunday, June 28, 2020
A Not-So-DELIcious Tale
I went to the Country Mart Deli on Friday, seeking a quick meal for Farmer H and myself. The Pony was out with a friend, and didn't need to strap on the old feedbag at home that evening.
As I walked across the parking lot, and through the automatic double doors, I could sense someone behind me. I don't like that, you know. When I entered the inner double door, the whole group dashed around me. It was a lady, a 9-10 year old girl, and two boys who may have been twins, around 5 years old.
I know I'm old and slow. But of course that group headed straight to the deli counter. DANG IT! I hate standing around waiting. So I went to the adjacent produce department, to pick out bananas (extreme green for The Pony, just turning yellow for Farmer H), and some hot-house tomatoes on the stem.
Like I said, I'm old and slow. But even after my careful selection, and getting open the end of the static-clinging produce bag for my tomatoes... the deli usurpers were still at the counter. I thought about going to the other end of the store for Farmer H's individual ice cream cups, vanilla with strawberry and chocolate swirl. Then I figured somebody else might come in and go to the deli counter. So I went on over there.
SWEET GUMMI MARY! They were still deciding! Not one thing bagged. The lady ended up getting a bunch of General Tso's Chicken. The boys didn't really want that. They had wanted chicken tenders, but Country Mart was out of them. So instead of taking the chicken nuggets in their place, she got those boys General Tso's Chicken!
Boy 1 kept whining that she didn't get him BBQ for dipping sauce. She explained they didn't have it. And that when they got home, he could pour BBQ sauce in a bowl, and stir his chicken all around in it. He didn't seem to be buying it. Evidenced by a bit more whining, while sliding his hands all over the glass-fronted deli case. As did his brother, Boy 2. Sometimes they even joined hands to do it in unison. Then Boy 2 wandered off (nearer to me!) and started stomping at a fly on the tile floor. I don't know what the girl got. Maybe macaroni and cheese. It took forever.
Finally, it was my turn. There was nothing Farmer H would like, except the General Tso's Chicken. No rice in sight this day. So I got his favorite sides of green beans and mashed potatoes with brown gravy. For myself, I got some of the untried chicken nuggets. Which I later found out tasted just like McDonald's chicken nuggets. Except it was all white meat inside. Actually pretty good.
I saw some jumbo shrimp left in the bin. So I got that for The Pony's lunch the next day.
"I'll take however many pieces of that shrimp you have left. I usually get 10, but I don't think there's that many."
The deli boy put it in a bag, and weighed it, rather than charging by the piece, like they usually do. Heh, heh! It was only $3.88! But here's the tragic mishap!
Deli Boy had been telling me how he just wasn't awake (at 1:30 p.m.) because while he had MADE his coffee that morning, he forgot to DRINK his coffee that morning. Also, that he had just moved out of his parents' house, and this was his first day on his own.
"Oh, you're having trouble ADULTING!"
I know all that lingo from Genius. Anyhoo... Deli Boy agreed, and started dipping out the shrimp with his tongs, putting them in the plastic bag. On the very last tong, he DROPPED two shrimp! One went to the floor, and the other, he pinned against the counter with his apron-ed midsection.
"Oh, no! There weren't that many! I don't want the one on the floor, but I'll take that one you trapped."
Heh, heh. It's not like I was going to eat them! Besides, let's recall that I ate a BBQ hot dog that fell on the porch where Jack licks the boards clean after his daily treat.
The Pony, Hick, and I are going to have really strong immune systems... if we don't die of food poisoning first.
As I walked across the parking lot, and through the automatic double doors, I could sense someone behind me. I don't like that, you know. When I entered the inner double door, the whole group dashed around me. It was a lady, a 9-10 year old girl, and two boys who may have been twins, around 5 years old.
I know I'm old and slow. But of course that group headed straight to the deli counter. DANG IT! I hate standing around waiting. So I went to the adjacent produce department, to pick out bananas (extreme green for The Pony, just turning yellow for Farmer H), and some hot-house tomatoes on the stem.
Like I said, I'm old and slow. But even after my careful selection, and getting open the end of the static-clinging produce bag for my tomatoes... the deli usurpers were still at the counter. I thought about going to the other end of the store for Farmer H's individual ice cream cups, vanilla with strawberry and chocolate swirl. Then I figured somebody else might come in and go to the deli counter. So I went on over there.
SWEET GUMMI MARY! They were still deciding! Not one thing bagged. The lady ended up getting a bunch of General Tso's Chicken. The boys didn't really want that. They had wanted chicken tenders, but Country Mart was out of them. So instead of taking the chicken nuggets in their place, she got those boys General Tso's Chicken!
Boy 1 kept whining that she didn't get him BBQ for dipping sauce. She explained they didn't have it. And that when they got home, he could pour BBQ sauce in a bowl, and stir his chicken all around in it. He didn't seem to be buying it. Evidenced by a bit more whining, while sliding his hands all over the glass-fronted deli case. As did his brother, Boy 2. Sometimes they even joined hands to do it in unison. Then Boy 2 wandered off (nearer to me!) and started stomping at a fly on the tile floor. I don't know what the girl got. Maybe macaroni and cheese. It took forever.
Finally, it was my turn. There was nothing Farmer H would like, except the General Tso's Chicken. No rice in sight this day. So I got his favorite sides of green beans and mashed potatoes with brown gravy. For myself, I got some of the untried chicken nuggets. Which I later found out tasted just like McDonald's chicken nuggets. Except it was all white meat inside. Actually pretty good.
I saw some jumbo shrimp left in the bin. So I got that for The Pony's lunch the next day.
"I'll take however many pieces of that shrimp you have left. I usually get 10, but I don't think there's that many."
The deli boy put it in a bag, and weighed it, rather than charging by the piece, like they usually do. Heh, heh! It was only $3.88! But here's the tragic mishap!
Deli Boy had been telling me how he just wasn't awake (at 1:30 p.m.) because while he had MADE his coffee that morning, he forgot to DRINK his coffee that morning. Also, that he had just moved out of his parents' house, and this was his first day on his own.
"Oh, you're having trouble ADULTING!"
I know all that lingo from Genius. Anyhoo... Deli Boy agreed, and started dipping out the shrimp with his tongs, putting them in the plastic bag. On the very last tong, he DROPPED two shrimp! One went to the floor, and the other, he pinned against the counter with his apron-ed midsection.
"Oh, no! There weren't that many! I don't want the one on the floor, but I'll take that one you trapped."
Heh, heh. It's not like I was going to eat them! Besides, let's recall that I ate a BBQ hot dog that fell on the porch where Jack licks the boards clean after his daily treat.
The Pony, Hick, and I are going to have really strong immune systems... if we don't die of food poisoning first.
Saturday, June 27, 2020
Funding The Enemy
I bought new stamps this week. Even though I hate to fund the people who regularly lose my mail, send it back as undeliverable after four weeks, and can't get a bill from Missouri to Illinois in 10 days.
Anyhoo, I ran out of the stamps I use to mail Genius's (and formerly The Pony's) weekly letters. I'm sure they didn't pay much attention to the stamps. But also sure that Genius will notice that he's no longer getting assorted flowers, but instead receiving an envelope with a nod to the GREAT OUTDOORS.
I tried to get a closeup of some, but my new SamGalA didn't focus very well.
Aren't they cool? I know it's just a pictured square used to fund delivery of my letters. But still, there's nothing wrong with enjoying the beauty of scenes lovingly painted by an artist.
Of course I also bought a book of regular U.S. flag stamps for mailing my bills. My utility companies and creditors will have to get by without beauty.
Anyhoo, I ran out of the stamps I use to mail Genius's (and formerly The Pony's) weekly letters. I'm sure they didn't pay much attention to the stamps. But also sure that Genius will notice that he's no longer getting assorted flowers, but instead receiving an envelope with a nod to the GREAT OUTDOORS.
I tried to get a closeup of some, but my new SamGalA didn't focus very well.
Of course I also bought a book of regular U.S. flag stamps for mailing my bills. My utility companies and creditors will have to get by without beauty.
Friday, June 26, 2020
Pony In A Mansion Is The New Bull In A China Shop
The Pony is at it again! Thursday evening, he tied up the trash bag and hoisted it over his shoulder like Santa. A really bad Santa. Because it was filled with stuff like tomato tops, expired slaw, an empty pickle jar, and blue wine bottles. Rather than taking the usual route out the kitchen door, to get to the dumpster under the carport... he started past the cutting block, on the way to the front door.
I was getting ice at the door of FRIG II's freezer. He was chiding me that I'd better get all I wanted before he came back in, because he had plans to fill his insulated metal cup. He turned to look at me, driving that point home with fake bravado. In doing so, the trash bag swung around and hit the door frame of the laundry room.
The Pony hesitated only a millisecond. But I noticed. I was not a teacher for 28 years for nothing!
"Did you just slam that trash bag into the door frame? Seriously? Is there no nice thing we can have?"
"Um. Maybe?"
The Pony turned around, and ran his hand across the exact area of the door frame I was asking about. There was a small, lighter-colored chip in the wood. A divot. Not big. But noticeable.
"You totally did that!"
"I don't think so..."
"You DID! Don't come near me! Stay away! I IMPLORE YOU!"
That got The Pony laughing. He hung his head, and trudged off through the living room, to the front door, on his way to the dumpster.
I might need to follow his route, and check for structural damage.
I was getting ice at the door of FRIG II's freezer. He was chiding me that I'd better get all I wanted before he came back in, because he had plans to fill his insulated metal cup. He turned to look at me, driving that point home with fake bravado. In doing so, the trash bag swung around and hit the door frame of the laundry room.
The Pony hesitated only a millisecond. But I noticed. I was not a teacher for 28 years for nothing!
"Did you just slam that trash bag into the door frame? Seriously? Is there no nice thing we can have?"
"Um. Maybe?"
The Pony turned around, and ran his hand across the exact area of the door frame I was asking about. There was a small, lighter-colored chip in the wood. A divot. Not big. But noticeable.
"You totally did that!"
"I don't think so..."
"You DID! Don't come near me! Stay away! I IMPLORE YOU!"
That got The Pony laughing. He hung his head, and trudged off through the living room, to the front door, on his way to the dumpster.
I might need to follow his route, and check for structural damage.
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Partly Cloudy, Fake Flamingos
We went to Casino Town on Wednesday. While waiting at a stoplight on the way home, The Pony noticed a nice fountain. He was enamored with the FAKE FLAMINGOS stationed around the different levels. I liked the reflection of the clouds on the building itself.
Not a great picture, taken through the tinted back window of A-Cad. But you can see some of the clouds on the shiny wall of the building.
You have to look really close to see the fake flamingos.
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
If Only Someone Could Have TIPPED Us Off Ahead Of Time
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has not always been the suave world-traveler that she is now. At one time, while pursuing her valedictorianship, she was downright backwards! But so were her classmates. Some never having left the safety of the county, not even to travel to the city an hour away.
You can imagine the excitement that ramped up over the course of four years, for the SENIOR TRIP to Daytona, Florida. We sold magazines to raise money. Chartered THREE buses! And left Hillmomba at 5:30 a.m., armed with playing cards (to pass the time) and shaving cream (to slather on the faces of sleepers).
Of course such a trip had to have some educational value. Our school principal was a history aficionado, so the SENIOR TRIP took a route to make stops at assorted historic battlefields, forts, the Cyclorama, and the Space Center in Huntsville, Alabama.
Let the record show that we were a bunch of rubes. Rubes who were 17 and 18 years old, and knew it all, while knowing very little. For example, I was AMAZED by the vending machine at our motel that sold tiny cans of fruit juice! That's all I babbled about to my dad, on a call home. He was kind enough not to tease me about it, what with him being a frequent traveler for training with Southwestern Bell, and knowing the ropes of motel vending machines.
You can't drive through for fast food with three Greyhound buses. I'm not even sure if drive-thru was a thing back then. We didn't have fast food in Hillmomba. Only a Sonic. So on this trip, we'd stop to eat at cafeterias. Oh my gosh! And I thought the VENDING MACHINE was something!
This sure wasn't like our school cafeteria! Imagine 150-something of us rubes pouring off those buses, road-weary and starving, heading into unknown territory. We each had whatever spending money we had earned through part-time jobs, or what our parents could afford to send with us. The fundraisers had paid for the buses and lodging and entrance to attractions. But we were on our own for meals and souvenirs.
It must have been somewhere in Mississippi where we encountered our first cafeteria. We lined up and pushed our trays along the metal bars, marveling at the selection, choosing foods we recognized. Without fail, as we reached the end, a courteous young man would appear and offer to carry our tray to a table.
Well! We were able-bodied country kids. Taken aback by such an act of generosity. Yet seeing no need to have somebody else carry a tray that we were perfectly capable of handling. So, without fail, each of us said, "No thanks. I've got it." And walked away clutching our food.
Some of those courteous young men followed us to our tables. Where one was heard to mutter under his breath: "Cheap-a$$ Hillmomba!"
I don't know how many cafeterias we patronized before one of our teacher sponsors on one of the buses explained that those courteous young men were working for tips. Which resulted in some of us remaining on the bus at cafeterias, choosing instead to eat crackers and chips and candy bars out of the magnificent food vending machines at our motels.
You can imagine the excitement that ramped up over the course of four years, for the SENIOR TRIP to Daytona, Florida. We sold magazines to raise money. Chartered THREE buses! And left Hillmomba at 5:30 a.m., armed with playing cards (to pass the time) and shaving cream (to slather on the faces of sleepers).
Of course such a trip had to have some educational value. Our school principal was a history aficionado, so the SENIOR TRIP took a route to make stops at assorted historic battlefields, forts, the Cyclorama, and the Space Center in Huntsville, Alabama.
Let the record show that we were a bunch of rubes. Rubes who were 17 and 18 years old, and knew it all, while knowing very little. For example, I was AMAZED by the vending machine at our motel that sold tiny cans of fruit juice! That's all I babbled about to my dad, on a call home. He was kind enough not to tease me about it, what with him being a frequent traveler for training with Southwestern Bell, and knowing the ropes of motel vending machines.
You can't drive through for fast food with three Greyhound buses. I'm not even sure if drive-thru was a thing back then. We didn't have fast food in Hillmomba. Only a Sonic. So on this trip, we'd stop to eat at cafeterias. Oh my gosh! And I thought the VENDING MACHINE was something!
This sure wasn't like our school cafeteria! Imagine 150-something of us rubes pouring off those buses, road-weary and starving, heading into unknown territory. We each had whatever spending money we had earned through part-time jobs, or what our parents could afford to send with us. The fundraisers had paid for the buses and lodging and entrance to attractions. But we were on our own for meals and souvenirs.
It must have been somewhere in Mississippi where we encountered our first cafeteria. We lined up and pushed our trays along the metal bars, marveling at the selection, choosing foods we recognized. Without fail, as we reached the end, a courteous young man would appear and offer to carry our tray to a table.
Well! We were able-bodied country kids. Taken aback by such an act of generosity. Yet seeing no need to have somebody else carry a tray that we were perfectly capable of handling. So, without fail, each of us said, "No thanks. I've got it." And walked away clutching our food.
Some of those courteous young men followed us to our tables. Where one was heard to mutter under his breath: "Cheap-a$$ Hillmomba!"
I don't know how many cafeterias we patronized before one of our teacher sponsors on one of the buses explained that those courteous young men were working for tips. Which resulted in some of us remaining on the bus at cafeterias, choosing instead to eat crackers and chips and candy bars out of the magnificent food vending machines at our motels.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)