Mrs. HM Is A Raw Ball Of Exposed Nerves

Sweet Gummi Mary! The people of Hillmomba drive worse than Farmer H! It's not bad enough that a county road crew has been putting down fresh pavement on our blacktop road, impeding Mrs. HM's progress on her daily town trip for two day. But NOW, The Universe conspires against her Errand Day travels.

The first incident was rolling into School-Turn Town, after passing by the cemetery that holds Mom and Dad. A peaceful trip most days. I slowed to the speed limit of 30 mph at the city limits. That's because of a four-letter word: C O P S. They regularly patrol that area. So I don't even try to get by with five miles over. I strictly obey. 

Coming up on the first traffic light, I saw three oncoming cars waiting to make a left turn. As I lawfully approached, I said to myself. "I'm too close!" when a black SUV made a left turn across my path. Imagine my consternation (and panic) when the cherry-red SUV behind it  also made a left turn across my path. I had to jam on the brakes to avoid broadsiding it. Of course I laid on the horn. Not that it could do any good. That car was already in my path. But it made me feel better to "voice" my warning and displeasure.

The next incident was after I had mailed Genius's weekly letter, and passed through the ridiculous 5-way stop. An oncoming white SUV was over the non-existent center line, about to sideswipe T-Hoe. I veered as far right as I could, with no time to horn him. What in the Not-Heaven? Are people so oblivious to keeping right? I can tell when I'm on my own side of the road, even without a center line.

The third incident was on a bridge taking the lake road from School-Turn Town to Hillmomba. That bridge is plenty wide enough for two cars to pass. It has concrete sides. No forgiveness there. Yet a small white SUV was over on my side. So close! It was a narrow miss, even though I moved as close to the bridge side as possible.

What is wrong with drivers these days??? They are worse than Farmer H and his sweaving! I never thought I would be able to say that!

Like Cheers, Except Nobody Knows My Name

Business at the Gas Station Chicken Store comes in waves. There's a sudden rush around 3:00 when schools let out. Then another at 3:30 when a couple local factories end a shift. And around 4:10, when I suppose more distant factories let out, or the 3:00 batch of city commuters return to town. I know traffic off the highway backs up at the lights.

I try to plan my town trip between the busy times. On the weekend, it's not an issue. Late afternoon on the weekend there's a lull. There was only one car, at the gas pumps, when I pulled in Sunday afternoon. The guy was coming back to his vehicle after paying. You can't pay at the pump there. That's how old the gas pumps are.

Anyhoo... I drove around to the side of the building to my rightful handicap space, placard swinging from T-Hoe's mirror. I gathered my winners for cashing in, and headed inside to see my favorite cashier. She always greets me cheerfully, even though not by name. I've told her once, when she asked, but don't expect her to remember it.

"Hi! I saw you coming!"

Fave pushed a Cash-4-Life draw ticket under the plexiglass shield toward me. 

"Let's see if my other predictions were right!"

"Well. I AM pretty predictable. I bet you ARE right!"

I named off the numbers of the tickets I wanted, and she pulled them out from under the counter, already torn off from the rolls. She was EXACTLY right!

"Good job on that. But what if I went on by?"

"I thought of that, but since it wasn't crowded, I figured you'd stay."

"As long as my handicap space is open! If there's somebody parked in it, I sometimes keep driving out the alley, and go over to Casey's first. Then come back."

"I know you won't come in if it's crowed, and you'll leave if too many people come in while you're waiting. But I didn't know THAT. I would have kept them for you. You always come in."

I am predictable, and she is efficient. It works out well. Besides, she could have sold those same tickets to anybody else who asked for them later in the evening. Or set them back on the roll to sell the next day if nobody wanted them that soon.

There's A Rotting Corpse In The Mansion's Garage

Hold up! Don't be calling the police just yet. I'm pretty sure it's not a HUMAN corpse. That would be seen by the naked eye. Nothing seems out of place in the garage. It's just the smell. I'd say that body has been dead for about 5 days. The odor started off faint, rose to a crescendo, and is now starting to fade.

The Pony thinks it might be a bat. We've had them "hanging around" by the louvered vents up high. I'd think more along the lines of a mouse, but we don't have cats to kill them any more. It seems unusual that a mouse might die of natural causes in the garage. The dogs are only in there when I come home, and they are at my heels the moment I step down from T-Hoe.

When I got home on Tuesday, my little Jack was in the garage with me, waiting at the people door to go out. He was looking up high, at the shelves over the two large lidded trash cans where Farmer H stores the dog food he pours out of the bag. 

I didn't have the gumption to peruse those shelves for a corpse.

The Queen Bee And The Pea(like implement of torture)

Mrs. HM is no princess, but some might refer to her as a bit of a queen bee. Her royalty status was confirmed on Monday afternoon, in an incident in her master bathroom.

I was getting ready for my shower when I stepped up to the sink to brush my teeth. OUCH! Ow, ow, ow, ow! That sure did smart! I moved my left foot, and looked down to see that I had trod upon one of Farmer H's dropped pills on the rug in front of the sink.

It really should not have hurt that much. Or at all. It was a little gel pill, shown here on the counter with a penny that fell out of my pocket a day earlier, that I had set aside for Farmer H's collection. In addition, I had my foot wrapped in an Ace bandage, because bones in the top, over the arch, have been hurting lately. Arthritis, I guess. The wrap makes it feel better when clomping around the Mansion in my Crocs.

Anyhoo... if such an incident doesn't prove my place in a royal bloodline with that Pea Princess, I don't know what would!

Farmer H Is The New Lou Grant

Mrs. HM is a little perturbed with Farmer H. Heh, heh. AS IF that's a surprise to anyone. Well. Maybe the "a little" part. 

Friday evening Farmer H grilled pork steaks and sausages. I made baked beans. Of course Farmer H doesn't like canned baked beans. He must have them actually baked. That gets rid of the "juice," you know. And I add diced onion, and some BBQ sauce, and mustard, and steak sauce. They're tasty beans.

Anyhoo... on Friday night, Farmer H ate an entire pork steak, and a sausage. He wrapped up two sausages for his lunch at his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store 2) on Saturday and Sunday. Then he ate two more sausages for his supper on Saturday. So... out of the six sausages, I got ONE.

Don't you worry about Mrs. HM. I didn't starve. I had most of my pork steak on Friday night, and the rest on Saturday night with the sausage. I had a ramekin of baked beans on Saturday. The rest of the beans (baked with onions and condiments) were left for Farmer H. That's fine. I didn't want a lot of beans.

Sunday, Farmer H planned to grill the other two pork steaks, and another six sausages. I said I'd make some potatoes and onions. Farmer H sometimes does these on the grill, with mixed results. Sometimes they stick to the foil. Or don't cook completely. Anyhoo... I put them in the oven for two hours on Sunday afternoon, so they'd only need warming while Farmer H was grilling. 

Those potatoes and onions were layered in a 9-inch glass casserole dish, with butter and ground black pepper in between. They smelled quite delicious while cooking. I warmed them in the oven during Farmer H's Sunday grill time. Then he fixed his plate (yellow plastic school-lunch tray), and took HALF! 

I had counted on eating those potatoes and onions for two meals! It was like Lou Grant showing up at Mary Richards's dinner party, taking 3 of the 6 servings of Veal Prince Orloff! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKKAu2laOfM (YouTube, 2:54) 

If you want the whole episode, it's 23:47. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhEi0E_R1uM

Anyhoo... Farmer H is quite inconsiderate when it comes to portion size. Thinking he should get whatever he wants, and not thinking about anybody else getting a fair share.

A Case Of Up-To-No-Good-Ness In Hillmomba

Friday, I arrived at the Gas Station Chicken Store during a lull. I had time to chat with my favorite clerk, after first making sure she didn't need to catch up on something like filling the ice machine, or taking a bathroom break. She assured me she was fine, and had time to talk. I told her about cashing in my tickets at the lottery office, because she's always asking if I've done that yet. Then she told me a tale that was concerning.

"I was over in Bill-Paying Town, and going to pay my taxes while I was there. But I had my dog in the car. I couldn't take him in. But I really needed to pay my taxes. I put down all four windows far enough so he could get air, and stick his head out, but couldn't get out. Nobody else was around where I parked.

When I came out, there was a black truck parked by me. Really close, and at kind of an angle. He had all those other parking spaces, but parked crooked, right by my car. There was a man sitting in the truck, looking at me. I thought that was kind of odd."

"Yeah. Doesn't seem right. Do you think he was trying to steal your dog? What kind do you have?"

"He's a pit bull/lab."

"People try to steal pit bulls. Or do you think he was going to report you for leaving a dog in the car?"

"See, I don't know. Because that guy never went into the building. He just sat there, watching me, and then drove off. I was only inside 10 or 15 minutes. And I had all the windows down. I don't know what he was planning to do. I followed him for a little bit, but he didn't go anywhere like he was going to report me, so I quit."

"Something's not right there. You never know. People are crazy these days."

Some people need to mind their own business, and stop being so creepy!

So Long Ago, But Just Like Yesterday

I don't hear from Genius very often, even though I write him a weekly letter. But Friday evening, I got a text:

"Can you send me a pic of that photo of me on the wall when I was a little kid, the one sitting on that wicker crate?"

"How soon do you need it?"

"Ideally now, but if you're busy it's not a big deal. I'm at a party and we were all talking about pics of us as kids. If it's too much trouble don't worry."

Well. I had just sat down from trying to soak Farmer H's tray that he used for eating BBQ. And putting away leftovers, but leaving my food that I would warm up later. But nothing will prevent me from supplying a picture when my kid needs one at a party! I wasn't sure exactly which one he was talking about. So I went to the living room with my phone camera.

First I sent a picture of Genius sitting in a wicker chair, at about 2 years old. A photo from a photographer at the Devil's Playground, with a Christmas tree backdrop.

"This one? Or when you were older?"

"I was thinking of another one--in that red vest, I think."

So the next picture I sent was of Genius at a year old, wearing a red vest and plaid red pants. Also a Christmas photo. He was born in December. No wicker chair. But there was another picture from a photographer that went to Genius's daycare when he was 3. Of him wearing a little black vest, with jeans and high-top Nike shoes, sitting on a wicker trunk.

"THAT'S THE ONE!"

"It's my favorite picture of you. Shows your future personality."

"That is wicker. I was close!"

"You loved that vest! I couldn't get in closer, because Dad was sitting in his recliner in front of it."

"No, this is perfect."

I hope Genius won some sort of prize at that party for his picture!