The More Who Know

Our enclave is going to have to find a new whipping boy. Hopefully not literally. More of a figurative whipping boy. A shooing-away-and-complaining-about boy. Pepper is no longer an option. Even though we only had the one complaint, from our neighbor across the road. Farmer H made it pretty clear the last time she contacted him about "seeing Pepper" down at Mailbox Row, that it was NOT Pepper, who now wears a shock collar. The news left her discombobulated.

Anyhoo... on Tuesday, Farmer H was coming up our gravel road and saw the dog-walkers. They are a couple who walk two dogs apiece on leashes down the gravel road. I've seen them once. I guess they do it every day. Those dogs aren't going to walk themselves. They're captives!

"Pepper was in our yard by the trash dumpster, barking at them. I stopped and told the guy, 'He has a shock collar, and he knows he cain't come out in the road.' The guy said, 'I noticed that he's been staying about 10 feet back from the road.' So there's more people that know our dog ain't the one if anybody has trouble with a white dog."

"Was Pepper bothering them before?"

"He didn't say nothin' about it. I'm guessing he would run out and bother the dogs."

"With Pepper, I'm thinking it's more like he'd run out and try to get attention from the people."

"Maybe. He still acts like a pup. But them people know he ain't gettin' out."

Pepper seems quite happy with his new boundaries. It doesn't stop him from trying to go farther, but the trying stops when he gets that warning sound. He especially enjoys getting the collar taken off and on for charging, because he gets a treat.

I Cain't Have Nothin' Of My Own

Farmer H came home unexpectedly on Wednesday, around 1:45.

"What's that motor running?"

"The tractor."

"Why are you in here with it running?"

"I've gotta get HOS something to drink. He's dying." 

"How are you going to do that?"

Because, you see, FRIG II's ice maker is still not working. I buy a bag of ice in town. We're almost out right now. And we only have Solo cups to take water outside to the tractor. Farmer H opened up FRIG II.

"Here's a bottle of water right here."

FARMER H GRABBED MY BOTTLE OF WATER!

"Um. NO. That's MY water. It's half empty. I take it to town every day. I put more in when it's empty. I've had it for months."

"Huh. I ain't never seen you with it."

He held it in his hands, peering into it. The bottle was only half full.

"I had it with me YESTERDAY in the Acadia with you, on our way to vote!"

"Huh. I don't know what you're yelling at me for."

"Because I can't have anything of my own around here! Not even a months-old half-bottle of already-drank water!"

Farmer H reached right beside my water, and picked up two bottles. One Sprite, and one Diet Mountain Dew. They were makeshift water bottles that I'd been filling for him since his surgery. He took them outside for himself and HOS. I don't know why that wasn't his first choice. He drinks out of them regularly, and sets them on the kitchen counter when empty. Because he can't fill them himself, apparently. But I DO wash them out before refilling.

The nerve of that guy!

He left, complaining that I always yell at him. Forgetting that when I don't yell, he says he can't hear me. 

I Expected More For My $988.20

Is it wrong of me to expect T-Hoe to run well after paying $988.20 for repairs last week? As I used to say to my students when posing a question with an obvious response: "Let me answer for you..." NO! I am not wrong. The work was done. The bill was paid. Now things should be back to normal. Well. Except for our bank account.

Everything was fine on Errand Day with The Pony. The gas tank issue has been fixed. You can even put the nozzle in and clip the handle thingy so it pumps itself. Everything was fine on Thursday. And Friday. And Saturday. 

The only difference I noticed was that when backing out of the garage a couple times, T-Hoe was coughing. You know. Kind of sputtering a bit. I attributed that to Farmer H putting in some gas when testing T-Hoe to see if the gas tank worked. I know he put in over $6 worth on the day T-Hoe was supposed to be done. And then the next day, he put in a little more, to make sure the problem was solved. You never know when you might get some "bad" gas. T-Hoe doesn't get the gourmet stuff. Just plain old regular. It can vary at different gas stations.

One of the days, I was sitting at the stoplight by the Gas Station Chicken Store, headed over to 10Box, and T-Hoe coughed a little more. I just thought I'd be glad when I ran some of this gas out, and got T-Hoe's regular elixir at the Sis-Town Casey's again.

Sunday, I returned home and parked T-Hoe in the garage. When I turned off the engine, it kept running! Not for long. Maybe 5-10 seconds. Kind of coughing, then stopping.

Monday, the same thing happened when I parked T-Hoe in the garage. I hadn't noticed it in town, during my stops there. Maybe I was just preoccupied, or there was other noise. This time, I turned T-Hoe back on. Then off. Same thing.

I told Farmer H on Tuesday morning. He furrowed his brow.

"Huh. It shouldn't be doing that. I'll have to tell Mick. The timing mechanism might have to be reset. He had it off while he was working on it."

"We paid all that money, and now T-Hoe is running worse!"

"He can fix it."

"Will it hurt to drive? Is it going to sputter and stop while I'm at a stoplight, or waiting my turn at the roundabout?"

There was a pause. "No... it shouldn't."

I am not very confident in that reply!

Later on Tuesday, Farmer H changed his tune. When I asked about the timing mechanism, he said, no, it was spark jumping. That's something I never heard of. He had some cockamamie description. Anyhoo... he said he had talked to Mick the Mechanic, who said to bring it by sometime.

"Mick was surprised it was doing that."

"So was I! I thought maybe it was just the different gas you put in."

"I used Casey's gas. But I don't have no idea what THEY put in it."

"It's funny because it didn't do it in the beginning. Now it does, but not every time."

In fact, T-Hoe ran just fine all day on Tuesday. I told Farmer H. We agreed (!) to let it go a few more days and see what happens. Because it's an issue that can't be fixed if the issue isn't happening when Mick looks at it.

Now Fave's Shoe Is On The Other Foot, And In My Mouth

You may recall a story a while back, in June, when Fave at the Gas Station Chicken Store was afraid she had insulted me by saying, "You look thin today." Heh, heh. I took it as a compliment. I didn't even sass back and say, "Oh, I suppose all the other days I look like a big fat cow!" The thought had crossed my mind, but I knew Fave's blurted comment was coming from a good place.

Anyhoo... Fave has mentioned that interaction a couple times, regretting it. She felt like she put her foot in her mouth, and kept apologizing. Well. Fave's shoe jumped onto my foot on Friday, and quickly took a giant leap, then a sloppy swan dive into my own mouth.

"Did you win anything on your tickets?" 

I asked innocently, as always, concerning the lottery tickets I give her every Thursday, as a "tip" for being so nice and selling me lucky tickets.

"No! Well. I DID win $5. But... did you know you gave me a ticket that was already scratched?"

"NOOO! What? I didn't mean to! I can' believe I did that! I'm so embarrassed! I guess I stuck it down in the box with your tickets and the ones I buy for my son Genius, before I put them in their envelopes. I'm so sorry! But at least I gave you a winner!"

"Yeah. It's fine. I looked at it, and I thought, 'That's weird.' But it's the only thing I won."

"Oh my gosh. I can't believe I did that. I'll try not to let it happen again!"

I'm pretty sure I was red-faced when I left. That's like being caught re-gifting. Or wrapping up your trash to give somebody. I'm so relieved it was at least a winner. But wait. My Fave faux pas was not over. On Saturday, the other foot demanded equal mouth time. I asked

"Did you win anything this week?"

"You asked me that yesterday! And I said only on the ticket that was already scratched!"

"OH NO! I'm reliving it! Now I'm embarrassed all over again. Forget I said that."

Fave had a chuckle. I was mortified. Again. On my way out the door, I said,

"Gotta get home and scratch these so I can save one to give to you!"

I hope I can keep my mouth shut, and both feet out of it this week.

Mrs. HM Ranks Lower Than A Dog

I can't have anything for myself! Have I mentioned that? Not even if it belongs to someone else. No small kindness for Mrs. HM. She's an afterthought.

On Sunday, I bought a Save A Lot pizza for Farmer H to have for supper on Sunday and Monday. It's like a deli pizza from the Devil's Playground. Not frozen. You buy it and take it home to cook it. I dug through a stack five-high to get just the right pepperoni pizza for Farmer H. They had two of the three-meat kind, but they looked older. As did a couple of the pepperoni version. But I found the best one.

While Farmer H was driving The Pony home, I got his pizza ready to cook. I added more pepperoni (bought at the store, because he kept "forgetting" to bring home the ones he got for FREE from his Harem, and left at one of the flip houses). I drained a can of mushrooms to add. I sliced a little onion. And I tore up two slices of provolone cheese to add on top.

Farmer H said it was really good pizza. He ate half that night, and the other half on Monday night. In fact, he was full, because he'd had a full Salisbury Steak lunch at the Senior Center that day. I was scratching lottery tickets at the kitchen table when he came back to the kitchen for dessert. (He was not all THAT full, it seems!) 

Anyhoo... I noticed Farmer H throwing away his plate, after putting something on the kitchen counter.

"What's that? What are you doing?"

 

"Oh, I was putting what was left there for the dogs."

"Wait! You had PIZZA left? I might have wanted that!"

"Well, it was just a little piece. You usually say no. You can still have it. Here. It's fine."

"NO! I can't eat that! You put it on the DOG TRAY! That's been there for months! It has old grease and everything else on it."

"It'll be fine. Here, I'll get it."

"NO! I am not eating off the dog tray! All that trouble I went to, fixing up your pizza, and you can't even ask if I want to try it."

"I didn't even think of it. I'm sorry."

Well. There's that.

Mysteries A-Field

Have I mentioned that I prefer to be informed when Farmer H is expecting random associates to be showing up at the Mansion? He will be heading to the doghouse if he doesn't shape up!

Last week, I left for town and thought I saw SilverRedO and a pewter colored truck parked in front of the BARn. They were backed down in there, SilverRedO in front of the big door, and the pewter truck on the Mansion side of SilverRedO, next to some trees and junk. I asked Farmer H about what he was doing when I got home.

"I wasn't doin' nothin'. I just got home about 10 minutes ago."

"What? Then why were there two trucks parked in front of our BARn, facing out?"

"I don't know. One Buddy has been wanting to come out and use my burn pile to burn off some junking stuff. But I told him no, because it had been too dry. He didn't SAY he was coming out. But he might have, since it rained last night. He don't have a red truck, though."

"That's why I thought it was you! And the other truck was the color of your old Ford. Kind of a silver/copper mix."

"I'll have to ask One Buddy about it."

"You might want to check and see if anything is missing! They looked suspicious, how they were parked. Like they could have been loading something out of the BARn."

I don't know if Farmer H ever checked for missing treasures, or if he talked to One Buddy. But on Monday, I saw that pewter truck again on my way to town. This time, it was parked beside Farmer H's burn pile. Facing up towards the gravel road, with the driver's door open. The door was RED!

Huh. I'm sure I saw two whole trucks there before. But this was unusual, to have a red door on a pewter truck. It was about 1:00 then, on my way to our financial advisor appointment. Afterwards, we dropped off T-Hoe at Mick the Mechanic's shop, and Farmer H drove me home in SilverRedO. 

The pewter truck with the red door open was still sitting there when we drove by at 4:00.

"See? That's the truck I saw before, but with a red one next to it."

"That's One Buddy. I guess he's been burnin' stuff. He didn't tell me he was comin', though."

"He's been there for THREE HOURS! With his driver's door open! That's not normal."

"I'll go over and talk to him. He's been sleeping in his truck down at the lockers. Just goes out and goes to sleep. I don't know what's going on."

Sweet Gummi Mary! My mind switched from thieving to drug overdoses! Not that Farmer H has buddies who do such things. But I sure don't want either happening on our property.

Farmer H came back and said One Buddy had been over there working on a broken lawn mower. This might sound suspicious to normal people, but I just assumed that Farmer H had promised One Buddy the lawnmower if he could get it fixed. Or maybe was going to pay him to fix it.

You never know what might turn up in your field out here. At least One Buddy didn't stink like a dead armadillo or a skunk.

Screaming Mini

On Saturday when the overly-friendly (or just plain normal) guy annoyed me at the lottery machine, I had no inkling that he was not to be my only source of annoyance.

I moved on to the bananas. While I was picking out eight green-enough ones all on one bunch, a man and little girl wheeled past me. I noticed, because that little girl was loud. The kind of loud that makes it hard to keep a neutral look on your face. She was probably 3-4 years old. I assume the guy was her dad. I'm guessing late 20s for him.

Mini was whiny. She wanted things. Not necessarily items from the shelves. She wanted to walk around, independent of Daddy and the cart. He wanted her holding onto the side of the cart. I'm pretty sure he didn't plop her in the child seat because she wouldn't have it. Did I mention she was loud? And whiny.

As always happens when someone annoys me in a store, they were on the same path as I was. Up and down every aisle I needed. She'd range away, and he'd tell her to come back. He was calm and patient. And totally ineffective. I got weekend-dad vibes. It WAS the third weekend of the month. I know a thing or two about parental visitation. I don't think a full-time dad would have put up with Mini's shenanigans so calmly. And no mom is going to send Dad and an elderly toddler off to the store on a Saturday.

Mini probably was trying her dad, testing her limits. I'm not sure she ever REACHED a limit. I would have knelt down (on younger knees) and looked that little girl in the eye. "You need to do what I say, and stop screaming, or we will leave. Right now." I did it before with Genius. And left the store, cart in the middle of the aisle. It only took ONE TIME.

Anyhoo... I was really glad to get out of there and give my ears a rest. I'm pretty sure that Dad was exhausted by the time the weekend was over.