Darn Country Livin'

It's Sunday night, and The Pony and I are trying to observe a total eclipse of the Blood Moon. I've seen a total lunar eclipse before. It was spectacular, if that's what you call a dark spot where the moon should be. I DO consider it spectacular, with my science-teaching background and nerdy VALedictorianship.

You'd think I have a better view, what with The Pony being in town now, with the accompanying light pollution. But no. The Pony has been keeping me updated on the eclipse happenings, while I am unable to watch it!

Oh, the clouds from earlier are gone. I should be able to see the moon and the impending eclipse. Except for NATURE! The eclipse is happening so early in the night that the moon has not yet risen above the TREES! The Pony has no such problem. After all, his giant pecan tree is just a trunk now, laying in his yard, waiting for the wood-salvagers who have spoken for it to come with their saws.

According to The Pony, the orange glow which would have been starting around 8:45 was less than spectacular. I wouldn't know. I saw it during my LAST total lunar eclipse, and it was grand.

I'll keep watching. The TOTAL part is scheduled to occur at 11:11. Of course, how will I know if I see it? Since it will be the absence of seeing the moon's radiance. I'll be checking later as well. In case I can catch the moon reappearing out of the earth's shadow.

I love anticipating a good earth-sciency phenomenon, even if nature itself thwarts my viewing.

Apparently, Mrs HM Does Not Provide Enough Sweetness In Farmer H's Life

When Farmer H left for the auction Saturday evening, I asked if there was anything he was looking for. He said no, that it just depended on what was for sale. Of course he sent me a picture of his bargains.

 

I replied: "That's a lot of candy." I'm sure you would agree.

 

The brand-name Reese's candy was $17.50 for 60 bars. I'm not sure I've tried this version, called the Peanut Butter Lovers flavor. I guess the outer coating is more peanut butter flavor instead of chocolate.

 

Turns out this case of chocolate for $9.00 is also brand-name! It contains bags of individually-wrapped chocolate balls, labeled Lindt and "Nusscreme." I think it is Christmas candy, from the wrappers.

Anyhoo... Farmer H returned home and set his treasures on the kitchen table that I had cleaned off for Mother's Day dinner. It's a losing battle. He went through his pocket, looking at his auction tickets, and said:

"Nine dollars for them chocolates. Six dollars for light bulbs. Fifteen dollars for dancing Elvis. And she forgot to charge me for the Reese's!"

"You're going to pay her, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Next time I'm up there."

I think Farmer H will pay. There's been times when the auction didn't pay him all the money for what he sold. And he got it from them the next time he was there. I guess auction people are a trusting lot.

Just what Farmer H needs... more sugar in his life.

The Pony Is Like A Warm-Weather Santa

 I got a text from The Pony mid-week.

 

 "Just delivered these yellow Crocs to E--- J---."

 

 

OH MY GOSH! I have to get some new Crocs! Even though the label says this pair is orange, they look yellow to me! My current Crocs are dark blue. Before them, I had two pairs that were red. I miss the bright colors. They're easier to catch Farmer H wearing them! I'd have no problem sneak-wearing Farmer H's own Crocs. They are camouflage! But nobody wants to scoot their tootsies into a shoe that has been on Farmer H's stubby feet.

This delivery went to the office of our financial advisor, right on Main Street of Sis-Town. Those Crocs were for the office manager, or our financial advisor. Not the grown man our age who used to manage our investments, but his daughter, who took over his business.

There's just something cheery and summerific about a pair of yellow Crocs...

I'm Pretty Sure...That's Questionable Wound Care

Remember the hole in my leg from CasinoPalooza? The jagged gouge caused by slamming my own leg with the door of A-Cad at the Lee's Chicken in Genius's College Town? It has been three weeks. So I figured it's probably mostly healed. It stopped leaking clear fluid on the Friday after the Tuesday injury. I've kept it covered, with triple antibiotic ointment on a 2x4 inch bandaid.

 

Farmer H is not enthusiastic about changing the bandaid for me. Even though I get everything opened and ready to slap on my leg, and make him wash his hands with GermX first. So my leg was only getting changed every third day. Oh, I still showered. I didn't scrub the wound. Just let the water run over it. Afterward, I'd dab at it with clean squares of toilet paper, to absorb any waterlogging.

 

Farmer H told me every time he put on a new bandaid that my wound looked good.

 

"It's getting a scab. I think you should let it stay uncovered, to heal."

 

Even though he said it was already healed!

 

So... I took the bandaid off on Wednesday, and left the leg-hole uncovered for my trip to town. After all, that's the advice I was getting from the person who can SEE it.

 

Anyhoo... you know that I can't see the back of my knee/calf area where the wound is. But on Wednesday, I took a picture with my phone after I got home and changed into sweatpants. It LOOKED okay. Until I zoomed in on the picture! It's got raggedy edges. A darker spot that could be the beginnings of a scab. One little tuft of what I assume is fresh skin growing out, very pink. The rough outer edges are a bit yellowish. It's not oozing anything, so I hope that's just the dead skin that hasn't rubbed on clothing or bedsheets to slough off after the injury.

Anyhoo... I gave Farmer H a lecture about his Florence Nightingale skills. He still swore that the wound looks good. I showed him the picture. Zoomed in. He agreed that the edges were questionable in that closeup, but swore it must have just happened, because it didn't look like that every time he put on a new bandaid.

Uh huh. Sure.

Anyhoo... I washed the wound with soap and water, then dabbed it dry and let it air dry further. THEN I had Farmer H put on another fresh bandaid. I told him we are going to change it EVERY DAY, and I'll wait until he gets home for my shower and leg-scrubbing.

Farmer H put on the 2x4 bandaid as usual. Then put on the regular size bandaid along the bottom edge of that 2x4, to keep it from rolling up on the bottom edge when I thrash around in bed. 

YOUCH! 

 

"What are you hollering about? I just was making sure that bottom bandaid was sticking."

 

"NO! You poked right on the injury! HARD! Right in the middle of it!"

 

"I did not. It was the edge of that bottom bandaid. You're crazy."

 

"I felt it at the deepest part of that hole in my leg! You are NOT supposed to push on an injury that's under a bandaid!"

 

Farmer H still denied such behavior. 

 

I'm pretty sure he's trying to kill me. After torturing me first.

The Return Of The BackCreekEighbors

You may have noticed that I have not mentioned our Back-Creek Neighbors for a while. That's because they have been traveling the countryside like roving Romani in their camper, not a caravan.

Back-Creek Neighbor Bev has strict requirements for where she will reside. They sold their house behind us, partially due to fear of Crazy Stick-Road Man, partially due to Bev not feeling up to par, due to electrical fields or something. I don't know her exact issues.

Anyhoo... Bev and Nick have been looking at properties for a while, and moving from campground to campground in their camper. They took their dog back with them after leaving her with us for a week. Every time they found a property, they'd have Farmer H go take a look at it with them, to advise on whether it was a good deal, and how much it would cost to make the improvements they wanted. Most of those deals fell through.

Until now. Farmer H checked it out for them. Wednesday, they asked for him to come to the final walk-through with the realtor. It's quite some distance from the Mansion. Farmer H said he would go, but that they'd have to pay him for his gas. It's getting really expensive for him to drive SilverRedO to their consultations lately. They said they'd pay. They also had asked Farmer H to put in electric for them at the new place, in the event they followed through and bought it. He agreed. They've always paid him for his work.

So... the walk-through was at 3:00 on Wednesday. Farmer H didn't get home until 6:00. By 8:00, he had a text from Bev asking if he would be putting in her electricity on Thursday!!! 

"No. You don't own the property yet."

"I can't go for four days in this heat without air conditioning!"

"The closing isn't until Friday afternoon! I can't do any work on a property until you own it!"

"Didn't Nick schedule you to put in the electric on Thursday? We're pulling the camper down there on Friday. I can't deal with this heat without air conditioning!"

"I will be there on Monday to put in your electric. I can't just do work for you at the drop of a hat."

Thing is, Bev has taken all this time, looking at 20 or more properties, and NOW she's in a hurry to have things done yesterday!

I'm pretty sure Farmer H will have to take measurements and discuss materials with Nick on Monday, then go purchase them, before he can get started on the electricity. Plus he'll have to call whatever company provides electricity in that neck of the woods, to have it shut off or turned on or both. Bev would be better advised to stay where she is until the electricity is done.

It's Like They Never Go Shopping For Their Own Food

I don't know how so many of the Country Mart cashiers can be so clueless about the bagging of groceries! Only ONE has bagged my food in the manner I would have done it myself. I complimented him on his bagging skills. And the next day, he asked me how I was doing, on his way behind the service desk, as I was at the right-side lottery machine.

The older gal who checked me out on Tuesday was friendly and polite, but she lost her freakin' mind when time to bag. I only had four items: a clear plastic 2-lb container of giant strawberries, eight bananas that weighed 3.89 lb, a clear plastic container containing a roast beef sandwich, and a loaf of Bunny Bread.

OGC (Older Gal Checker) put my bananas in a large plastic bag, then deposited the 2-lb container of strawberries on top. Then hefted that 6-lb (almost) bag across the counter to me. She put my sandwich in another bag, with the bread on top.

NO NO NO NO NO! 

Nobody wants to carry a 6-lb (almost) bag and a 1-lb bag. Balance them out! But even worse, nobody wants their bananas gouged and bruised by the corners of a 2-lb plastic box of strawberries!

When I got to the car, I took those strawberries out. I put the loaf of bread on top of the bananas. So soft and forgiving of their fragile peels. Then I put the strawberry box in the bottom of the other bag, and the smaller rectangular clear plastic box containing my roast beef sandwich on top of it. They were quite stackable. And both COLD from their respective departments.

Was that so hard? I think not.

I guess most of those Country Mart checkers have one really muscular arm from carrying heavy bags, and think bananas are supposed to be bruised when you get them home.

Dogs, Cats, Chimps, And Even Magpies Can Do It...But Not Farmer H

Oh, Farmer H! Every day I learn that you know less.

 

Monday, I warmed up the Mother's Day BBQ pork steaks in the oven. A half for each of us. I opened FRIG II, and set out the potato salad and deviled eggs. I sliced an onion, and a dill pickle for Farmer H as he requested. I carried the remaining rolls from the kitchen table, and the butter dish. I put all this on the cutting block, along with a spoon for the potato salad. I uncovered the rolls, and opened the deviled egg container. I also set out a sharp knife, and a fork, for Farmer H. He was planning to eat in the living room.

 

ALL FARMER H HAD TO DO WAS FILL HIS PLATE AND GRAB A BEVERAGE.

 

It started out well enough. Farmer H said he'd use a paper plate, so took two of the sturdy kind from the kitchen counter. He forked the piece of pork steak that I had taken out of the oven and set on top of the stove. He moved his plate to the cutting block, and cut up his own meat. YAY, Farmer H!

 

I saw him adding his sides. But the next thing I knew, Farmer H had opened up the pantry door, and was gazing inside!

 

"Um. Is there something else you're looking for?"

 

"Yeah. A cup."

 

"What do you mean, a CUP?"

 

"To pour in my sparkling grape juice. A red cup."

 

"The SOLO CUPS?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"There's a whole pack right there on the floor of the pantry. But we still have some on the cutting block."

 

"I don't see none."

 

I moved the circle of foil that had been on the pan of rolls. It was leaning against a stack of red Solo cups that we have kept in the same place on the cutting block for over a year. Over TWO years. 

"Oh. I didn't know them was there."

Seriously. There's a concept called object permanence. Human infants understand it. As do dogs, cats, chimps, and magpies. If they see an object, then you cover it up, they KNOW that it's still there.

Farmer H is an entirely different kind of animal.