Thanks, But No Thanks

I stop short of making this Incident # 1368 in Farmer H's list of infractions of the Hillbilly Mom Rules. He only gets a break because he had good intentions.

Today I got a text as I was pulling into the garage with my 44 oz Diet Coke around 1:00.

"If want we can run to casino"

"No. I just got my soda. Hadn't planned on it."

Here's the thing. Of course I would have liked a trip to the casino. If Farmer H had mentioned it even last night, I would have gotten my blog posts ready to publish automatically. Readied my gambling purse with the money I was willing to lose. Set aside house money for lunch. Put my two forms of ID in that purse. Made sure Farmer H had his player's card laid out. And then met him in town today when he was ready. There is planning, people, that goes into a casino trip. I would have spent the night looking forward to the event, thinking about which machines I would play. And I most certainly wouldn't have spent some of my casino bankroll on scratchers today.

Since I hate texting, I called Farmer H, who was dining at Hardee's after closing up his Storage Unit Store due to a new onset of rain. I explained the situation, and he HAD THE NERVE to say, "We can go in the morning. Because it's supposed to rain, and I won't open my store."

"Uh. Tomorrow is Easter."

"I know. The casino will be open."

"Uh. I have to cook the meal."

"Well, all you have to do is warm up the ham steak."

AGHHHH!

Let the record show that without visits from The Pony and Genius, Farmer H and I are having a lesser Easter dinner. Not so many dishes. Not a whole half-ham. Farmer H asked for a ham steak and mashed potatoes. We both like the 7-layer salad. Carrots go well with ham. So that's the menu: ham steak, mashed potatoes, 7-layer salad, carrots (and potatoes) with onions cooked with bacon. I need the bacon for the salad, and I'll use some of those cooked potatoes to mash. We're also having Sister Schubert's Rolls, and Edy's Grand Double Fudge Brownie Ice Cream. Because Farmer H asked for ice cream for dessert.

You might have noticed that "warm up the ham steak" is not the only task I will have to prepare the dinner. Those eggs for the salad aren't going to boil (and peel) themselves, or the block of sharp cheddar throw itself onto the grater. Nor will the potatoes peel themselves and cook and jump into a pan of milk and whip themselves into a frenzy with butter. Nor will the bacon magically morph from raw to cooked, with its companions, the baby carrots and self-slicing onions. Of course, I DON'T have to churn the ice cream and bake the brownie chunks, so there's that.

Seriously. How could Farmer H think that we'd run to the casino in the morning (and have lunch there and return in the afternoon), and I'd have Easter dinner ready to serve in the evening? Because that's the time he picked, thinking he would run his Storage Unit Store until time to feast. Apparently, I have superpowers.

We DO plan to go to the casino NEXT weekend. I have a free play offer that I can't refuse. I've been planning on that trip. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not do spur-of-the-moment. Even for the casino.