The Lack Of Awareness Is Mind-Numbing

Mrs. HM is on another crusade. Join her, if you will, on her foray into a world rife with entitledness and/or ignorance. This necessitates climbing upon her high horse. Put your foot in the stirrup there, and give me your hand. Upsy-daisy! There you go. Careful not to pound my elevated steed's flanks with your heels. There's no rush. It's not like we're waiting to pay for soft-serve ice cream cones...

Monday after my leg therapy, I stopped by the Sis-Town Casey's for scratchers. The line was orderly. My mission accomplished, I went out the door and walked down the front sidewalk to T-Hoe. I had my handicap placard hanging, but didn't park in the handicap space. I don't like it here, because there's a regular space next to it on the left, which allows regular parkers to get too close, and block T-Hoe's door from opening completely. Instead, I prefer the farther-away space on the other side of the striped handicap walkway with the concrete ramp onto the sidewalk.

This space lets me open the door completely, and walk up that ramp. As I started down the little built-in ramp, a little black sports car started pulling in. HALFWAY IN THE STRIPED AREA! I stopped, lest I be struck by an automobile. Small, but still bigger than Mrs. HM! 

The sports car stopped, halfway in. I figured the guy was probably going to use that space to turn around, since there were plenty of regular parking spaces in front of the door, plus on the other side of T-Hoe. The handicap space was also open. Maybe he had just misjudged his turn.

I gave the driver a quizzical look, then continued down the ramp. T-Hoe's door opened, since the sports car had stopped before pulling all the way in. Once settled in the driver's seat, door closed, I was SHOCKED to see that sports car back up, straighten out, and pull forward directly into the striped space! As if it was a parking space. The sports car blocked the whole ramp.

That's when I frowned at the driver, who was looking at me. WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN? Was he a psycho? I raised my left eyebrow, my unspoken teacher language for, "What in the Not-Heaven, Dude?" The guy got out of his sports car and stepped up on the sidewalk and went inside. He had no handicap placard, nor plates. He had no visible infirmity that might require close parking. In fact, he had eschewed closer parking, and even the actual handicap space, to park IN THE STRIPED HANDICAP WALKWAY!

Take a snort of that rarefied air atop our high horse, and sigh heavily along with me.

Tales Out Of Treatment

My leg therapy continues. I got Tuesday off! I'd like to think of it as a reward for good behavior, but it was just a result of circumstances. I usually go M/W/F. My OT will be gone on Wednesday. She decided, as I was leaving on Monday, that I could do without the Tuesday session.

"With your progress, I don't see back-to-back treatment having much of an effect. Would you like to just skip Tuesday, and come in on Friday as usual?"

"Yes! That would be fine with me. As long as it doesn't count as a no-show. I don't want that on my permanent record!"

"I'll tell her. It won't count against you."

My treatment lately has been massage to stretch the skin and get the circulation going. There's not much for me to do besides lie on my back on the lifted table/bed, looking at the ceiling. Some days we are more talkative than others. Monday, we somehow went from my DISH local channel woes and talking to ESL help centers with representatives named "Susan" and "Bill," to how kids act in the store.

"My kids were so different. Genius would walk off by himself, saying 'I'm going to electronics to see if they got in any new hard drives.' The Pony wanted to ride in the cart. Even when he was so big his feet would almost drag the floor. He's sit in the basket, playing his GameBoy, and complain. 'Ow! That box of cereal hurt my legs!' I had to tell him no more! He was taking up too much room from the groceries. And when he wasn't in the cart, he'd hide in the middle of those circular clothing racks."

"I was a kid who hid in the racks! But my favorite thing to do, at the mall, was stand in the shop windows with the mannequins. I'd pose just like the one next to me. My mom would go on shopping, then come back to get me when she was ready."

"Oh, no! That's hilarious! Did you look people in the eye when they stared at you?"

"Yes! Some of them would smile at me. But I'd just keep a mannequin face, and look right back at them."

I don't know why I find that so funny. Maybe because it's ONE thing my kids didn't do to embarrass me.

If It Weren't For Bad Luck

I missed my rendezvous with Fave on Thursday. The Pony and I had an early Errand Day, and then a bill-paying session at the Mansion, with a Chinese takeout lunch. I had already let Fave know last Sunday. Just as a matter of courtesy, because she always says, "See you Thursday!" And Thursday is the day I usually give her a couple scratchers sealed in an envelope. Not because she does me any favors in the scratcher department, but because she's a nice gal, and I think she's lucky for me.

Friday, I noticed several cars at the gas pumps. A minivan was parked in my rightful handicap space, but it was pulling up by the FREE AIR hose as I turned onto the lot. Fine with me! I took back my space. A woman got out of the passenger side of the minivan, and went past me inside.

A few customers were waiting to pay. A suspicious guy walked back and forth in front of the fishbowls that hold assorted alcohol in the little shooter bottles, clutching a dollar. Fave seemed preoccupied. She was talking to a lady standing by the door with a cell phone. The one who had passed me. Something was up.

"I don't know what to do. Maybe try to call "M" and "B," to see if they can cover for me. I can't call Woman Owner. It's FRIDAY again! She'll fire me! I just don't know."

"I'd jump behind there and take over the register if I could. I'll keep calling. They're not answering."

Fave greeted me and we did our business. Then she said, "Sorry. My boyfriend fell off a roof."

"Oh, no! I hope he wasn't working on my flip house! I just drove by there and saw the roofers."

Fave chuckled. So I guess her boyfriend was NOT on (and now off) my flip house. I don't know if he was working, or fixing something on her roof, or rescuing a cat. Whatever, he fell off a freakin' roof!

The next day, I found out that Fave won $20 on the tickets I gave her. And that her boyfriend had "...a mild concussion, and a broken wrist. He kept me awake all night crying over the broken wrist."

"Oh, that's too bad. But it COULD have been a lot worse. So I guess it was unlucky, but kind of lucky, in a way."

"Yeah. It could have been worse."

Poor Fave. If it weren't for bad luck, she'd have no luck at all. Especially over the past month. I'm glad her gunshot wound wasn't acting up.

Ham Handed Farmer H

Supper for Farmer H on Friday night was ham. Nice thick slices of ham that had been thawed out, from our Easter Dinner. Farmer H asked for ham sandwiches. I had a new loaf of Hawaiian bread, his favorite. Don't think the side dish was vegetables. Not for Farmer H! He wanted some mozzarella sticks with marinara dipping sauce.

Farmer H had only been home for about an hour. He had gone straight to his recliner, to try and watch his old TV shows like MASH. But the local channels are again not working on DISH. He had to settle for a movie, Daddy Daycare.

I was warming his sauce in the microwave (which is the size of a box of velcro wraps sent by my occupational therapist, heh, heh!) when I called Farmer H to the kitchen. I was waiting until the last minute to get the ham (with pepper jack melted on top), and the mozzarella sticks out of the oven.

"You can come get your sandwich ready."

Farmer H came to the cutting block, where I'd set his plate, a paper towel, his flat pickle slices, and the loaf of bread. I was sprinking some parmesan cheese on top of his sauce when I noticed Farmer H over my shoulder. He was pawing down three slices to get the bread that he wanted.

"Yuck! The sight of that makes me sick. You KNOW you haven't washed your hands after a day of digging around in who knows what, and peeing all over the place!"

"Huh."

"You know it's true! You can't even deny it."

"Whatever."

"SEE?"

"Whatever."

"That's what I mean! Whatever. NOT a denial. I'm glad I don't eat that bread."

I took the tray with the hot ham and mozzarella sticks from the oven, and set it on the cutting block. Farmer H immediately reached with his (dirty) bare hands to pick up the slice of ham/cheese and put it on his bread.

MAYBE the burning heat killed a few bacteria on his fingertips.

Not All It's Cracked Up To Be

The Pony has been cooking more frequently, rather than ordering out. A recent effort was an omelet. That's it. Just eggs and cheese.

The Pony said it was a 3-egg omelet.

Here you can see the added Muenster cheese.

Served up on a mini cafeteria-style tray that I found at 10Box. I bought us each four trays. They only came in pink and green, so we have two of each. The green does this omelet no favors! But I imagine the pink would have made it look worse.

Anyhoo... The Pony reported that next time, it will probably be a 2-egg omelet, because it got cold 2/3 of the way through eating it. And perhaps a slice of toast next time. I agree. Those other compartments need something to make the omelet look less lonely. Toast. Maybe an apple.

Mrs. HM Plays Soccer And Loteria

Thank the Gummi Mary, leg therapy, and Father's Day for Mrs. HM's good luck on Monday. I was way over in Bill-Paying Town for therapy. I needed to get a Father's Day card for Farmer H. I figured I could stop by Country Mart on the way home. They have a good card selection. And I could also pick up bananas, and some marinara sauce that I needed for Farmer H's mozzarella sticks for supper. Plus scratchers out of their machine!

Such a good decision. I normally don't go in Country Mart until Errand Day on Thursdays. But with this therapy, I pass through the area. Casey's is my extra stop for scratchers, but their parking lot was full. So I was left with a changed plan for which tickets I wanted.

This is a new soccer scratcher. I didn't plan on getting it out of the Country Mart machine. I didn't plan on getting it at all. But with the selection, and the no-change from winners I had scanned into the machine, this is the one that spoke to me. As in, "Take me home!"

I'm so glad I listened! The first chance was the SHOE symbol, which is an automatic winner. When the second was also a shoe, I knew I'd won at least $10. Then $15. I don't uncover the prizes until the end, but I know the minimum win on the $5 tickets is $5. By the time I got the fourth SHOE, I felt like I might be winning all the prizes. I DID. That's a $75 winning ticket!

But wait. I also bought other tickets out of that same machine. The ones I'd planned on, which were two of the Loteria tickets. I like playing them. The first one was a winner.

I have a certain order for scratching these. Starting with the upper left symbol. Then the lower right symbol. Then alternating. I was thrilled when I uncovered that BOOT symbol. It gave me a $100 win on the top puzzle! I set it in my purse with the $75 Soccer winner. Such great luck!

It was only upon scanning later that night that I discovered I'd been wrong. It was NOT a $100 winner. It was a $200 WINNER! I had missed scratching the DEER symbol on the bottom puzzle. Good thing I scan my tickets! Some unscrupulous clerk could have pocketed $100 if I'd handed that over saying I had a $100 winner. I'd have been none the wiser.

Anyhoo, it was a good scratching day. Now I can't buy these tickets out of that machine on Thursday. I don't think I could get a better winner off those rolls.

Ban Youthful Checkers!

Kids these days! I commend those who actually get out and work. But they need more life experience to be my grocery checker! Or at least TRAINING from a seasoned professional life-liver.

The thing is, these kids don't pay for their own groceries. I don't for an instant believe that the 18-22 set is living on their own with a grocery store checking job. Maybe in years past it was possible. Not today, unless they have 10 roommates to offset the cost of rent/utilities/food/car/insurance, and electronic gewgaws. They don't understand that if you pay for an item, you want it in the same condition as you bought it when you get it home.

Monday after leg therapy, I stopped by Country Mart. I needed bananas, marinara sauce, and a Father's Day card for Farmer H. Three items. My checker was a young man jovially conversing with a fellow buddy young man. He turned his attention to me. He was polite and cheerful. But he didn't know squat about bagging. He put all three items in the same bag.

I don't think he was trying to save the earth by using less plastic, or save the store extra costs. I think he just glanced and thought, "Those will easily fit in one bag."

I would have offered the card to the stately elderly woman (myself, heh, heh!) to see if she wanted to carry it in her purse, lest it be bent in the main bag, or get something sticky off the bananas. Like those darn labels they want to put on each one, that regularly grab the side of the bag in transit.

As for the big can of spaghetti sauce (actual marinara was only in glass jars, which I did not want to deal with), I would have put it in a separate bag. Only because a heavy can is not a friend to a bunch of eight bananas. It tries to beat them into mush as the bag is lifted to and fro, conveyor to cart, cart to car, car to elbow to swing freely in transit to the kitchen, after being plopped on a metal chair while steps are climbed.

But no. Young Jovial Checker put everything in one bag as I was paying with my card, handed me the receipt, then resumed his jovial conversation. By the time I took that bag out of T-Hoe, the card corner had burrowed through the plastic bag. The can of sauce was on top of it, giving the card a U-shaped bend. The bananas are no doubt holding their bruises secret for a few more days.

Keep these boys in the stockroom!

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Here's my poor banana the next day, bearing the mark of the pasta sauce can!

Such a travesty! I never would have chosen a banana that looked like that in the store.