With A Vengeance!

Okay, so I thought that my luck had returned. Like a Capistrano swallow, it had come back. If Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was a cartwheeling woman, she would have been flipping for joy on Wednesday, winning scratchers clenched between her teeth. What could possibly top such a happy occasion as the welcome-home party for Mrs. HM's long-awaited guest of honor, Good Fortune?

Oh...I don't know...perhaps...THIS?

It's a $100 winner on a $10 ticket I bought Thursday, with some of the proceeds from my previous day's winners. I hit the WIN ALL symbol partway down. Of course I stopped scratching. I set it aside until the very end, hoping all the while that it would have a better prize under each number than the $5. NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING! I had three other tickets, and two of them were winners as well, for another $25 to add to the day's total.

More money to stash in my casino bankroll. I wonder if my luck will hang around until Saturday's trip to the casino.

One thing's for sure. Just like a losing streak won't last forever...neither will a winning streak.

Back On Even Steven Keel

After a brief respite from scratching, my luck returned with a vengeance on Wednesday. My bi-weekly run to The Devil's Playground complete, I took some of my weekly allowance and hit Waterside Mart, the Hillmomba Casey's, and of course The Gas Station Chicken Store for some scratchers.

Read 'em and weep. Tears of JOY, this time!

According to my unofficial in-my-head running statistics, I am now only 3 winners behind according to the ticket odds, and I'm $20 ahead of what I usually recoup. Which is only 40% of what I spend, not counting the wins over $100 on a single ticket.

So...I'll be cashing these in, using some to play again, and stashing a large portion in my casino bankroll.

Cashin' and stashin'. That's how Mrs. Hillbilly Mom likes to roll.

A Couple Of Fugitives From The Most Unwanted List

Heading out on my 44 oz Diet Coke run Tuesday, I stopped to give my Sweet, Sweet Juno some cat kibble. Jack was nowhere in sight, so Juno got all the attention. Even though what she wanted was the cat kibble.

When I came home, the full crew was there to greet me. So I had to go back into the garage and use the mini non-stick saucepan to scoop out the kibble from the latch-top mini trash can that stores it. My eager admirers didn't mind the wait. Nor did they seem to care that the reason for it was that Farmer H did NOT feed the cats this morning, leaving that chore to me. I'm sure their dry-food buffet is not being depleted by me handing out handfuls to the dogs a couple times a day!

Anyhoo...when I left earlier, I noticed that Farmer H had made an addition to his garage-adjacent rock garden, and vowed to share that artistic expression with you when I got back.

Yeah. Copper Jack couldn't be bothered to get out of the picture, but he gives you an idea of how big those concrete flip-flops are. I'm not likin' the look. I guess they're better in this area than out in front of the house. By the beautiful partly-almost-white picket fence. That's the thing with Farmer H. He can make something that looks good, like the sidewalk made of bricks from a former old street behind my $17,000 house, and that rock garden with treasures that my grandma collected. But then he junks it up with something inane like those concrete flip-flops.

Farmer H. Can't live with him, can't pretend the footsteps upstairs are his without him.

One Picture Is Worth 394 Words

There seems to be a running theme here at the Mansion.

I'm NOT! No siree, Bob! I'm NOT picking up that plate! Not only because I'm hard-headed and vengeful, but because around here, no good deed goes unpunished, and no good deed garners a Thank You.

That's Farmer H's plate, by cracky! Left there by him when I was in the shower on Saturday, when he came home early from the Storage Unit Store because of rain, rather than me meeting him there to go to the casino. While I was cleansing myself before spending hours in a smoky environment, Farmer H was hot-dog-loading for energy. Can you tell which cushion he sat on? I knew you could.

It's Tuesday, you know. That plate is still there. And here's part of the reason why...

As we were going out the door to get in A-Cad to leave for the casino, Farmer H walked RIGHT BY a bag of trash that needed taking out. Seriously. It was right there. I'd already taken it out of the wastebasket. Already put in a new bag. Already tied up the top of the old one. Yet Farmer H walked right by it.

"I can't believe you're walking out with nothing in your hands! I have my purse and my water cup. You have NOTHING."

"Oh. Well. I didn't know if it was ready to go out. There's not a knot in the top. That one time you said I took it too soon."

"That was when I had it sitting there with the top open, to put last-minute trash from the Easter meal in it as I was preparing it. Before taking it out. You never take out the bathroom trash, either! I bet I've done it the last 30 times!"

"Well, I don't put anything in it."

Yeah. His old razors and pharmacy bags and bandaids just dance themselves to the kitchen like the "Let's all go to the lobby" singing movie treats, I guess.

"I don't track mud into the house, either, but I'm the one who sweeps it up. I don't eat chili dogs, but I cook them and chop up the onions and shred the cheese. Then wash the dishes."

Farmer H had no answer for that, other than a heavy sigh as he picked up the trash bag with his formerly empty hands.

Lest You Assume That I Exaggerate

Seriously. There is a black cloud hanging over me. Saturday, it was an ACTUAL black cloud. Not a figurative black cloud. The closer we got to the casino, the lower and blacker that cloud appeared. Until the very last minute, when the rain slacked off, so we had hope, and bypassed the FREE valet parking.

Yes, Farmer H swove us to the casino to see if we had our Rewards Offer doubled. The promo says it will be doubled on two Saturdays in April. Then it gave us a HINT, nudge-nudge, right there in maroon-and-white on the mailer, that the first of these two doubling days would be April 7th. We went last Saturday, and the doubling DID happen. Farmer H got $20 free play, and I got $50 free play.

Of course Farmer H and I are pretty savvy customers, so we figure that the next double-day will be the LAST Saturday of the month. Just so the casino can drag you in there with doubling hopes the other two Saturdays. Still, we went to the casino on Saturday. We got in the habit while harvesting our FREE luggage those four Saturdays in March. Anyhoo... our Rewards offer was not doubled on Saturday. Nor did we win the Mercedes for a year. No big deal. We were still at a casino, with money to play, and nothing but time.

And also with a powerful thirst.

Farmer H had been selling in his Storage Unit Store all morning, and I was dried out from withholding liquids so I wouldn't have to stop on the hour drive there, having taken my blood pressure meds before leaving. We went our separate ways once inside, but each with plans to go by one of the free soda fountains before settling down to play.

First of all, don't got thinking the black cloud is about losing, because we always go in with the expectation of losing some or all of our money that we took. And this day was no exception. No, the black cloud was just from simple everyday interactions that could have gone better. Like at the soda fountain.

The place was teeming with old people, and the soda fountain was a prime watering hole. I think there were four people ahead of me. It's on the wall, with the ends of several slot rows across from it. There's not much room to get by if you're walking down the wall of the casino. People were grabbing a cup, filling it with ice, getting their beverage, and moving along. It was a one-way flow. No room for two-way traffic. While we were waiting, other people shouldered their way past us, going from one area to the other.

The old white-haired man in front of me got his soda, and then turned to SWIM UPSTREAM! I had people behind me in line. People passing by my left shoulder to get by. There was NO ROOM for this guy. He faced me, and glared like I was the one in the wrong! SWEET GUMMI MARY! I had nowhere to go. I guess he was going to stare everyone down until he got out of our line playing chicken one person at a time.

Seriously. I don't cotton to crap like that. I did NOT move for him. Mainly because, as I've stated, I had nowhere to go. White Hair stood at my right shoulder area, in the little alcove afforded by the wastebasket. When I had enough elbow room on my left to move forward, I did, so I could get past White Hair to the soda fountain.

There's always one, isn't there. One person who has to upset the apple cart. Demand special treatment. Refuses to go with the flow. I hope somebody bumped him, and spilled his FREE soda. Not so it got all over his pants in an embarrassing area, though that would have been like icing on a sweet, sweet cake. But only because I wish he had to go back through the line to get another FREE soda.

I've vengeful like that.

Oh, yeah. Farmer H and I ordered our burgers. Both the same way. Medium. With onions and pickles. Farmer H also got pepperjack cheese on his. When the burgers were served, Farmer H's was done just the way he ordered. Medium. Pink and juicy. Mine was well-done. It had the consistency and taste of sawdust. Even though I don't eat sawdust. I'm pretty sure I won't need to now in order to describe the taste. "Oh, you know. It's just like a well-done Burger Brothers hamburger."

I'm like Pigpen, hygienically-challenged friend of Charlie Brown. But with a dark cloud, not a dust cloud.

I Can't Even

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's life is off course!

While walking down the 13 basement steps to my lair this afternoon, my SHAMING BRACELET ABANDONED ME!

That's right. The Fitbit-style doodad made by Garmin, that Genius gave me for Christmas, threw in the towel, and flung himself from my wrist right down those remaining 5 stairs, thumping on at least three of them.

Yes, Mrs. HM is such a loser that even her SHAMING BRACELET, whom she displeases daily by not meeting her goal five days out of seven...chose to jump from her wrist and hurl himself into oblivion (or at least onto the hard press-down tile of the basement concrete floor) rather than ride down the rest of the way strapped to her wrist.

Let the record show that on the band, there are two hard plastic prongs that fit into stretchy rubber slots, and a turny thing to keep the prongs latched in. I had pronged and latched as usual. Nothing was malfunctioning. Upon closer inspection after the fact, there was no damage to any part of the Shaming Bracelet. Even though it caught for a moment on the plastic bag handles of the Devil's Playground sack that I use to ferry down my drink cups, such an incident happens every single day. There was no reason for this sudden leap of non-faith.

This does not bode well for Mrs. HM.

I'm glad I skipped buying scratcher tickets today.

The Storage Unit Fairy

Last week, I woke up and went to the kitchen for my medicine. There on the counter was a GIFT for me! Or so I assumed. It was something that wasn't there the night before, and it was in my food-prep area that I harp about keeping clutter-free. Also, it was not something that I could imagine Farmer H using for himself.

It was a case, by cracky! A hard-cover case. With polka dots! Not at all unappealing.
I quite liked it.

There was a little latch on the front that allowed entrance to the case. It was just like the ones I bought at Christmas, in assorted solid colors like red/blue/purple/green. For the guys to put their casino players' cards in during Casinopalooza 2.

Plenty of room for lots of cards! I think I have 11 of them. I almost had one of these cases for myself, but Farmer H saw me wrapping them, and said that HE'd like to have one, so there went the one I had ordered for myself. You know us gals...always doing without so their guys can have nice things.

Anyhoo...Farmer H said he found this one in his storage unit stuff, and he WASHED IT and brought it over to the house for me. You realize, right, that Farmer H is giving up a possible 50 cents in sales for me, don't you? And also that I'm going to wash this case again!

It's the thought that counts. And I also have this sweet card case!

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Now, a follow-up. Here's what those Easter Sweet Tarts looked like. I don't have any of the actual candy to show you because...well...it's already been EATEN! But here's the box, to give you an idea.