We Almost Lost The Pony!

I was getting supper ready for Farmer H on Friday night when I heard a text come in. It was from The Pony, asking if I had time for a quick call. That is not a good sign! The Pony doesn't call. Of course I picked up my phone an immediately called The Pony. Who sounded a bit hoarse and congested.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. But earlier I was having supper, and I choked. Like in, I couldn't breathe. I was on the phone with some friends. I had ordered a steak from [where Farmer H used to play bingo and eat at a local sports bar]. It was on sale half price. With the delivery and tip, it was still under $20. I chewed it and swallowed, but it wouldn't go down. It got stuck in my throat--"

"OH NO! But that's your esophagus. How did it stop your from breathing?"

"I guess it was just in such a lump, pushing on the trachea. I couldn't cough it up. I couldn't get any air. I couldn't talk. I was scared! I started punching myself under the rib cage. You know, like where they tell you to do the Heimlich. After about five times, I vomited out that chunk of meat, and I could breathe again. But I kept vomiting. Just bile and snot from my nose draining from the irritation from the vomiting."

"It's almost 7:00. And you're just now telling me!"

"I had to wait until I calmed down. I'm pretty sure I'm okay now. I didn't want you to worry. My friends didn't know what was going on. I couldn't talk to tell them. I just went silent. My vision was starting to go black around the edges. I could have died!"

"And I wouldn't know! I don't talk to you every day. I would have just thought your phone wasn't charged if I called and you didn't answer. Then if you didn't come out when I came to pick you up tomorrow, I would have called Dad to bring the key. And he would have found you!"

"I know! I'm still trying to deal with it."

"Don't order half-price steak anymore!"

"I won't!"

So scary! I've choked before, but mine was with a disc-shaped ice cube. The universal sign for choking is SO ACCURATE! All you can do is silently point at your throat. Even if my parental helicopter was warmed up and ready for takeoff, I couldn't have gotten to The Pony in time.

We figure The Pony has about 6 lives left. This choking. The car accident on his first Thanksgiving at college. And the allergic reaction to amoxycillin as a baby.

Not Presenting The Evidence He Imagined

We had our 4th of July grilling on Sunday, per Farmer H's wishes. He had said he'd be home around 4:00, but got there at 4:30. That meant supper wasn't ready until after 5:30. Which is a normal supper time, but Farmer H usually starts at 3:00, so we're all done and he drives The Pony home around 5:30. This time it was 7:00 when they left.

That's not a big deal, just something unexpected. I had to put off my shower until Monday morning, putting me in more of a time crunch getting ready for leg therapy. I just wish Farmer H had made his timing clear before sending a text at 3:30, so I could have adjusted my day accordingly, perhaps picking up The Pony later.

You can see I was already a bit perturbed with Farmer H when he got here. I had the meat set out, and his BBQ sauce, and pans to put the finished meat in. We were having pork steaks and "Smokehouse Swiss" bratwursts, plus deviled eggs and potato salad that The Pony and I had prepared the day before. Plus baked beans we did on Sunday afternoon.

As Farmer H was taking out the pork steaks, I reminded him that I like mine well done around the edges. Black, even. And I like mine without a bone.

"It looks like the one on top doesn't have a bone."

Just pointing that out to him. So he knew which one to char a little bit. When he brought in the finished pan of meat, The Pony had everything set out on the cutting block. I told them to go ahead and fill their trays. It's easier that way, rather than risk the loss of an arm in their feeding frenzy. When I came back, they were both seated at the table, EATING!

"Oh. Go ahead. Don't bother to wait for me. Even though I'm always the last one done. Huh. Where's my pork steak? This one has a bone."

"I'm pretty sure they all had a bone."

"No. I told you that one on top didn't have one."

"Mine don't have no bone."

"That's the one I wanted!"

"It was on top! I took the one on top!"

"But I told you I wanted one without the bone. And you cooked them, and said they ALL had a bone! But I told you the one on top didn't, when you took the package outside."

"Yeah. I took the one on top."

"I meant the one on top of the package! I could see it didn't have a bone. And now you took it."

"Yes. I just got the one on top. Here! Do you want it! I only ate a couple bites."

"No. I'll look for another one."

Which I found. Another one without a bone. But it wasn't all black around the edge like the one on Farmer H's tray. I don't know how he thought he was defending himself with that logic. It's pretty clear he took my rightful pork steak, the one I had mentioned numerous times. Yet he acted like he had a valid argument for justifying his choice.

Farmer H should never defend himself in court.

It's A Local Epidemic, I Tell You!

The Greater Hillmomba region is beset with a new epidemic. STRIPE PARKING! I'm pretty certain there is no cure. Anybody attempting to start the parker on a path of recovery might face deadly consequences. Seems like only a couple weeks ago I was nearly run down by a Stripe Parker at the Sis-Town Casey's. Saturday's incurable sufferer was observed at 10Box.

I got a picture of this one. Don't blame the man. He was parked farther down the row, and was merely putting his cart up against the building. 

The red car was parked on the striped walkway when I got there. The handicap space next to it was open, which is where I parked, though scooted over a bit because, you know, there was a CAR PARKED ON THE HANDICAP WALKWAY, and I needed to make sure T-Hoe's door could open all the way.

This Stripe Parker DID have a handicap placard. That does NOT excuse the behavior! You might think it more justifiable than the man on the 4-wheeler who was backed in and sitting there last week. I do not. If a handicap space is not available, I park in a regular space out in the main lot, and watch. Until somebody comes out and leaves a handicap space open. Then I drive up and park there.

Sure, it's EXTREMELY hot. People are getting their first-of-the-month checks and groceries. Perhaps some goodies for their 4th of July cookouts. That does not excuse them from the unwritten rules of society. Striped handicap walkway parking might actually have a WRITTEN rule somewhere. Yet it's never enforced.

The handicapped have a different-titleness where some behaviors are concerned. But not an ENtitledness to park wherever they want.

What Is Wrong With Me?

After seeing that The Pony got inside with groceries on Thursday's Errand Day, I headed to the Gas Station Chicken Store, to cash in some winners and get more scratchers. The drive takes about 15 minutes from The Pony's house. My rightful handicap space was open. I stepped out into the searing heat, walked across in front of T-Hoe, and my whole world went to Not-Heaven in a handbasket!

I WAS SO DIZZY!

It hit all at once. I was strolling along. Had just about stepped under the roof of the gas pump area. When the world started to spin! I put my hand out to steady myself, first at the brick support post, then along the brick wall under the window. I stepped inside. The room swirled. Two people were at the counter. I stepped over to the counter area by the door, in front of the register, where there's the machine you can use to scan tickets.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to butt ahead. I just don't feel well right now."

I leaned on the counter. The two people were together. They finished up. I moved to the side, and gave Fave my winners and her envelope with tickets. She tried to print my Show Me Cash draw ticket.

"This has not been working! Let me try again."

"That's okay. You can skip it. I don't feel good."

"Something is wrong with that printer. I keep trying to put the paper in again, but it doesn't work. I keep getting this message on the screen from the lottery. I can't scan tickets. If you want to wait, I can try again."

"No. I don't feel like waiting today. That's okay. I'll just use what cash I have in my pocket."

I picked out four tickets, paid, and left. Hobbled dizziliy back to T-Hoe. Called Farmer H and explained the situation, after drinking the last 1/3 of water in my water bottle. Plus half another unopened bottle that has likely been in T-Hoe for a couple years. I dare the microplastics to take me!

"I guess I will try to drive home. It might take me a little longer. But if I don't show up, come looking for me! I'm trying to think of places I could pull off if I need to."

"If you feel like you can drive..."

"I think I'll start feeling better in a few minutes. Last week when this happened, I felt better after water and half a soda."

I wrote on my tickets. Cranked the air up colder. Strapped on the seatbelt. And started off. But had to slam on the brakes when a lady walked across in front of me! I made it off the lot. Made my right turn at the first light. Had a green through the second light. Then felt woozy going under the overpass.

"You're fine. You're fine. You can pull over at Orb K if you need to. Just a little farther. This is just panic right now. That's the tingling in your legs. Just breathe. Now just over the hill. You can turn by Mick the Mechanic's if you need to. Okay. The prison entrance is up here in case you need to get off the road. Just a little more. There's the bridge, and the county blacktop road. Once you're there, you can go slower. Just keep going. Okay. There's room to stop at the low water bridge. Up around the curve. Almost to the mailboxes. Gravel now. Almost home."

I made it to the garage. Farmer H was coming through the people door. How sweet! Checking on me. NOPE! He was getting dogfood. To put in bowls with eggs that I told him to throw out. The dogs were totally not interested in eggy dogfood. It was 96 degrees! But they DID want a piece of grease bread from my hand as I went in the kitchen door.

I drank more water. Changed clothes. Ran cold water over my wrists. Started to feel a little better after 10-15 minutes. Made Farmer H's supper, then sat down with my scratchers and regular snack of an ounce of cheddar, and 12 dill pickle slices. An hour later, the dizziness was completely gone.

My last doctor NP visit was May 13. My blood pressure was 140/60. I have lost 16 pounds (intentionally) since then. I wonder if maybe my blood pressure is going too low. Maybe my medication (10mg lisinopril) that I've been on for 25 years might need the dose adjusted. Or maybe it was a combination of that, and the heat. I try to stay hydrated. I take a bottle of water with me to town, and drink it during my travels. I felt just fine going in and out with The Pony during errands. But this hit me all at once.

I've been having some dizziness off and on for a month or two. Since I've been trying to stay more hydrated, it had seemed better. I don't know what's going on. I'm thinking about not taking my BP medicine until I get back home from town, rather than in the mornings. Or maybe cutting it in half to see if that changes anything. My next appointment is in August.

Errands For All

The Pony and I did our usual errands on Thursday. I'd already stopped by the bank on my way home from leg therapy on Wednesday. So we just did T-Hoe's gas, post office, and groceries. The day was SO HOT! Upper 90s, with the heat index over 105. My fingers, and the end of my nose, were cold to the touch, since I had T-Hoe's air conditioner set at 66 degrees for The Pony. Once we started making stops, it took a while to cool back down.

I pulled into The Pony's driveway, and said goodbye before opening up T-Hoe's hatch for the groceries. The Pony rummaged around. Rummaged some more. And came up empty-handed.

"Huh. I can't find my keys. I'm sure I had them when I came out. I'd just gotten the mail, and had that card to show you. Um. I guess I'll walk around and see if I left anything open."

No. Nothing open. The Pony was locked out.

"I'll call Dad. He has your other key."

Farmer H was home (for once!), and cleaning GassyG Jr for the impending cookout on Sunday.

"Yeah. I can bring the key. It will take about 10 minutes."

That was wishful thinking! The Pony and I both know it takes a minimum of 20 minutes, if you don't get behind a tractor, or mowers, or utility workers.

"I don't want to sit here that long with T-Hoe running. Look. The temperature says 105. We'll go for a little drive so T-Hoe can cool off. Dad won't be here until 4:40 at the earliest. Probably 4:45."

Off we went, driving around looking at houses for sale, comparing their curbside look to our flips, and checking prices on their listings online. We were back at 4:43. At 4:46, Farmer H drove SilverRedO into The Pony's back yard. The Pony thanked Farmer H, and trotted to get the spare key. Then loaded MY groceries into SilverRedO, for Farmer H to take home and refrigerate/freeze, because I still had to stop by the Gas Station Chicken Store for my scratchers.

Such a relief to find Farmer H available. I told him to make me a spare key.

Mrs. HM Takes A Baby Step

Are you sitting down? Do so. But first get those smelling salts within reach. Brace yourself. 

MRS. HM STOOD UP FOR HERSELF!

Sure, it was not to an actual person, mind you. But to AI. Still, for once Mrs. HM was not content to just let things go after being taken. No siree, Bob! Not this time.

Here's the deal. I use powder after the shower. Especially in those crannies behind my knees, which get strapped into velcro wraps 23 hours a day. I don't want to take a chance of any moisture getting trapped there, causing an irrigation of skin-on-skin. I've used powder for years. Like in those areas that might get sweaty, like leg creases, or the underboob area. 

The powder I like is The Devil's own. Equate brand, Pure Cornstarch With Aloe. Though I'm not sure how it can be PURE cornstarch, if there's aloe. It used to come without. Anyhoo... my point is, no talcum for me. I don't care to be a participant in a cancer settlement with Johnson & Johnson.

You may recall that I haven't been in The Devil's Playground since around the end of 2021. My powder lasts a while. Then I had Farmer H pick it up for me. THEN he couldn't find it. Despite asking a worker, who also couldn't find it. That's when I bought it on Amazon.

I'm not out of powder yet. But I always like to have a backup. So a few weeks ago, I made an order from Amazon. All my other items showed up as promised, within a couple days. The powder said it would be here between June 15-23. I kept watching my emails to see if it was out for delivery. Nope. It was coming by USPS. So I figured it might take a couple extra days, due to our rural delivery.

June 23 came and went. Every time I tried to check the tracking provided, it only said the package was expected on June 23. Then after that passed, it said the package "was likely delivered on June 23." But that if I didn't have it by June 30, to contact the seller.

By July 1, I was mad as Not-Heaven, and not gonna take it anymore. Of course there was no way to contact the seller. I got in a loop, being given choices like:

late

damaged

wrong size

found it cheaper

not as described

There was no option to say it didn't arrive. And going to the item, then tracking, being told it was likely delivered on June 23. There was no way to get to the step-by-step tracking. I was exhausted from so much hoop-jumping. You're out of luck if you want to complain that you never got an item. Did I want to leave feedback? NO! What good would that do? It would not address my issue. Just be bitter venting.

Meanwhile, Farmer H went to the Devil's Playground for dogfood. He took a picture of my powder. Couldn't find it. Asked a worker. And it was RIGHT BESIDE HER HEAD! He got me two of them, though the 22 oz rather than the 15 oz that I wanted. Nothing like weightlifting a heavy powder for a workout after the shower.

Anyhoo... on Wednesday, before I left for leg therapy, I spent 25 minutes trying to work out my Amazon issue. And by some miracle, which I will never be able to repeat, I got a box to pop up so I could type with AI. I was able to state that my package ordered on June 4 that was supposed to arrive by June 23 was still not here by July 1. AI asked if I wanted them to ask the seller for a refund. YES!

While I was looking at my phone on the parking lot before going inside for therapy, I got an email from Amazon. 

I got $16.93 credited back to my credit card for my missing order, plus tax. Which is fine, because I paid with the credit card.

YAY, ME!

Farmer H Gets A Manly Pedi

Tuesday evening, I sat on the short couch, ripping off my velcro leg wraps, and peeling off the support stockings that trap my feet 23 hours a day. Farmer H was kicked back in the recliner in only tighty-whities, having just returned from his own shower. He rotated his ankles, admiring his feet. I hate feet, but Farmer H has amazingly tiny soft white feet.

"I got my monthly pedicure today."

He said as I was dealing with my snaggle-y toenails that grow like horse hooves, with the right big toenail still trying to fall off.

"That's nice. I'm happy just to let my feet breathe for an hour a day when I have a shower."

"I noticed when I went in the shop that their sign was dangling. While I was in the chair, I heard sirens. Then the fire marshal came in, and said, 'We can't let you stay open with this sign hanging. It could fall and hurt someone. It's a hazard. So you'll have to close until it's fixed.'"

"Huh. I hope they get it done in time for your next appointment."

"When I come back through later in the day, I seen that the sign was fixed. So they didn't waste no time. They had that area under it blocked off before, so people couldn't walk under it. But I can understand why they got shut down."

Farmer H leads a charmed life. The Universe is not going to allow him to miss a monthly pedicure.