No Premonition, Just A Hunch

I mentioned last week on my not-so-secret blog that I have been  taking an alternate route through the roundabout rather than taking a chance on my regular way to and from town, due to the sidewalk construction and occasional flagman. Last Friday, Farmer H asked a question when he got home.

"Did you see the semi truck turned over by the car dealership?"

"No. What do you mean?"

"On my way home, I saw it when I got off the highway."

"Do you come by the Gas Station Chicken Store?"

"No. I was on the other side of the highway, by Orb K. But I heard it on the radio, and looked over that way when I got off the exit ramp, and saw it. Traffic all backed up."

"Well, I'm glad I went the other way, and didn't get caught up in it. Because that's right when I was leaving town. I just got home."

Anyhoo... the article showed up in the local online paper on Monday. It happened on Friday. But it wasn't a semi truck. It was an ambulance! Coming from where it sits by the rat poison factory across from Country Mart. Headed to the highway for an emergency call. A truck coming from the road by the Gas Station Chicken Store hit the ambulance. Hard enough to turn it over on its side!!! There was a picture. The flipped ambulance hit a mini van that was at the light. What a time to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!

Anyhoo... there was a reason I took myself on an alternate route. I just didn't know it at the time.

The Carnivorous Pony Puts Himself To Sleep

Better late than never! The Pony didn't send me pictures of his meal yesterday because he FELL ASLEEP! That's understandable, working a full day, then doing meal prep, and stuffing his belly with meat and carbs! But he sent me SOME pictures the next day.

"Forgot to send last night!"

"This steak? Only four dollars!"

"How did you get that steak bargain?"

"It was one of those bargain things at Country Mart. Less than half a pound, and a really poor fat distribution for a ribeye, I guess."

"I like fat in a steak. It gives the flavor."

"Your salad looks delicious. Did you bake the cake?"

"I fell asleep too early to bake! I'll try today if I meet my writing goals. And yeah, for the salad, getting a slapchop type thing makes cutting the onions for salad sooooo much easier and more satisfying."

I don't know what a slapchop thing is, but if it makes a salad look that tasty, I'd say it's a good investment. No word yet on whether a cake was attempted. I'm guessing there was pasta and bread, but perhaps not...

What? No Pictures?

Saturday evening, The Pony said he was going to have steak/salad/pasta/garlic bread for his meal. And THEN he was going to bake a red velvet Oreo chocolate chip cake. That was at 5:19. Last I heard. With a clarification that it was WHITE chocolate chips.

That sounds pretty good, except for the red velvet cake part. I am not a fan. I might have tried it once. Not my thing, but Farmer H loves it. I made the mistake of reading him the text. Hope he doesn't drop in at The Pony's house with an excuse, and help himself. Like he did when going over there to wait for The Pony's package to arrive last year.

Anyhoo... I hope The Pony took pictures. I can ask for them later. Unless he fell asleep before his baking adventure. That sometimes happens when you spend your week working.

The Pony Learns The Hard Way That Farmer H's Safe Advice Is Not Actually Safe

As the remodeler of The Pony's house, Farmer H advised him of the best location to put his safe. The Pony likes to keep some cash on hand, even though he most often uses plastic for daily expenditures.

When I stopped by to pick up a check for The Pony's half of our flip house expenditures, The Pony revealed that he had a problem. He was paying cash for his portion of the air conditioning unit. Upon opening his hidden safe, he was unpleasantly surprised.

"I'm not listening to Dad any more. He told me that was the best place to hide my safe. But when I opened it, my money was all moist! Moldy. Mildewed. I'm trying to dry it out. I'm going to put my safe somewhere else!"

The money he gave me looked okay. I guess it was the best of the soggy bills.

Farmer H says that The Pony should microwave the bills. I said he should put them in sunlight, though that could be problematic.

"I guess I could lay them out on my kitchen floor, where the sun comes in every morning..."

"Probably not a good idea! Dad and Old Buddy might come barging in while you're at work, and tromp all over them."

I think the best idea is for The Pony to deposit that money in the bank, and then draw it out again the next week, if he still wants to keep some cash on hand. 

Yeah. That's the best way for The Pony to launder his money.

Death By Misrepresentation?

Shh... don't tell anybody, but I think Farmer H is trying to kill me.

He came home Thursday around 4:00 with two small styrofoam containers, which he immediately held out to me, even though he was by the door, and I was by the cutting block.

"Same as usual. Anything you don't want in your hand, you hold out to ME!"

"Well. One is yours. You can put them in the fridge."

"Okay, wait until I can get over there. You can't put them in the fridge?"

"No. I'm getting a trash bag and going to clean out my truck."

Farmer H then proceeded to walk around the counter and through the kitchen, into the living room, and on to the bathroom. Why he couldn't have carried those two containers to FRIG II is beyooooond me!

Anyhoo... I glanced inside, and couldn't tell what it was. When he came back, I asked.

"I don't know. Dessert. Some kind of cake."

"What is that, caramel? I see nuts."

"Yeah. Apple I guess."

He ate his right after supper. I waited until after my own supper, around 10:00, after Farmer H had already gone to bed.

It kind of looked like caramel icing on a cake. With pecans. I took a bite. My fork wouldn't go all the way through. What kind of cake does THAT? The taste wasn't actually apple-y. Nor cakey. I swear, the bottom of that thing looked like a stale biscuit!

I think that was PIE! I hate pie! Because I don't like crust. But this was like a really thick dry crust. I ate around it, leaving some nuts behind. I swear, the more I though about it, the more I likened the consistency to cheesecake. And I think the flavor might have been pumpkin.

An hour after eating it, I felt queasy. Especially after thinking how lunch was served at 11:00, and Farmer H didn't get home until 4:00. It was 79 degrees today.

I'm pretty sure I'm being poisoned with a fast-acting spoiled pumpkin cheesecake.

The Clueful Helping The Clueless

I can still remember the time several years ago, when Farmer H was bemoaning the fact that his goat, Goatrude, did not like him any more.

"She used to come running, and follow me all around. And now that I got those other goats, she ignores me! Like I don't even exist!"

The next day, Farmer H came home from work spouting the most important discovery in the history of the world, having spent time in his office consulting with Mr. Google.

"Goats are HERD ANIMALS!"

"Um... yes. They have been since the beginning of time."

"Well, THAT'S why Goatrude don't follow me any more. She goes with the herd. She's like their leader. She don't need me."

"Uh huh. I could have told you that."

Now Farmer H has amazed me once again with his total ignorance of the animal kingdom. I told him how I'd gotten the fruit fly infestation under control, between smashing the random dumb ones with my thumb, and trapping the more wily with a red Solo cup half-full of tap water and couple drops of dishwashing liquid.

"Huh. If they're really fruit flies..."

"What do you mean by that? What else would they be?"

"Fleas."

"Are you crazy? Why would we have fleas? Fleas don't flit around the kitchen!"

"How do you know?"

"Fleas jump! They're hard and crunchy if you can manage to smash one. They BITE! If you had fleas, you'd know it! You don't get rid of them with a cup of water by the kitchen sink. You need to set off a flea bomb. If we had fleas, your ankles would be eaten up by flea bites. I don't know how you've lived this long without knowing the difference between fleas and fruit flies!"

Sweet Gummi Mary! You'd think Farmer H never lived in a college house with roommates who had Cocker Spaniels!

The Incredible Unending Generosity Of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom

Remember when The Pony's interest inventory upon filling out his FAFSA form for college returned the verdict that he does not really care about helping people? He did not get that trait from Mr. Congeniality Farmer H, nor from Mrs. HM. You might say that Mrs. HM is the AntiPony. All about helping people, even though her personal motto is "People Piss Me Off."

Tuesday morning, I was in a bit of a time crunch. I had to get to town WAY too early compared to my usual schedule, which is 3:30. I needed to pick up a flip house construction materials payment from The Pony on his day off, and get to the bank for cash reimbursement for Farmer H's outlay to pay Old Buddy for labor. AND pop in the Sis-Town Country Mart for bananas. Which meant I'd need to be in the shower by 1:00 and on the road by 1:30.

I sat on the short couch at 9:55, contemplating whether my limited time would best be spent by dozing off and catching the winks I'd missed since being awake until 4:00 a.m., or getting off my ample rumpus to wash up the chili bowls that were soaking in the sink. My reverie was interrupted by the ring of the Mansion phone. I don't bother to jump up and answer. That ship has sailed.

"Hello? Is this Hillbilly Mom? I am Jane Doe, and I used to teach with you at the Mentia school district." Meaning that while I toiled in Lower Basementia and Newmentia, she was edumacatin' at Elementia. "I am getting ready to get off school insurance and sign up for Medicare, and I'd like to ask you some questions about how to do that. Please call me back."

Welp! Of course Mrs. HM is your go-to gal for that type of thing, right? Having all the answers, after needing to pay three extra months of high-dollar school insurance until all the kinks were worked out in her own sign-up.

Sweet Gummi Mary! What was in it for ME to answer questions for this gal? So you know what I did, right, on that morning I was tired and pressed for time. I PICKED UP MY CELL PHONE AND CALLED HER BACK.

"I don't think I'm the one you need to talk to..."

"I have no idea what to do. I retired 16 years ago. But I'm just now old enough to get off the school insurance and onto Medicare. I asked around the main office if they knew somebody who had gone through it, who could help me. I said I didn't want anybody OLD, because they wouldn't remember how they did it. So I asked if there was anybody who'd gone through this within the last year, and they gave me your name. I said, 'Oh, I know her! I had both her kids at school.'"

"Yes. I still remember the day we were picking up Young Genius, and The Pony said, 'WAIT! Can I get out and give Mrs. Doe a hug?' Even though Young Genius told him he was crazy." [Mrs. Doe was not known for her huggy-feeliness, and was thought by most to be a hard-rumpused taskmaster.]

"Well, I would really appreciate it if I could talk to you about what to do. I have no idea! If now is not a good time, we can meet somewhere and talk about it--"

"No! I'll tell you all I know right now. Just talk to the people at our insurance group! That's what they're paid to do. Go online and find This Gal, who helped me. She was prompt and returned my emails and got everything done for me. And I get a bill every three months from the government to pay for it. She'll look up your doctor and meds, and give you quotes on two or three supplemental plans so you can compare and choose. But make sure you go to the Social Security office first, so they can sign you up for the basic part. That's what held me up."

"Oh, I already have my appointment there. My birthday is in January. I guess they will have it all ready then, and I can stop paying the school insurance in December."

"Maybe. This Gal will walk you through it."

"Thank you so much! You've been very helpful. I didn't have a clue, and was getting all these calls from people trying to sell me the supplemental plans."

You'd think if it's this hard for TEACHERS to figure out, perhaps the system needs to be overhauled and simplified. Especially the online signup that locks you out mid-application...

Just another 20 minutes in the life of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, Director, of One Great Big Helping Party.