It's Finally Happening! I Think...

After our meeting with the financial advisor on Monday, I took T-Hoe to Mick the Mechanic's shop. Farmer H was already there in SilverRedO. He took my key (!) because he forgot to bring the spare. Why are none of us surprised?

I rode home in SilverRedO. My knees did not like it! Getting up on that skinny pipe of a running board was fine, but contorting myself to get the first leg in was torture. Next time, I will face out towards the door, and not in towards the cab. That way, my left leg will already be the first one to put inside, and I won't have to cross it over the right leg while clinging to the grip handle and the door.

Anyhoo... there shouldn't be a next time. Farmer H is supposed to pick up T-Hoe and drive home. Then I will drop him off to get SilverRedo on my way to town. 

T-Hoe is supposed to have the gas tank issue fixed. AND get an oil change. AND get the tires aired up to 35 pounds each. Right now they're at 26, 27, 28, and 27. That even after warming up from the overnight chill on the trip to town. My warning light keeps coming on because of the 26 pounds in the left front tire.

Yes, it would have been cheaper, I imagine, for Farmer H to air up T-Hoe's tires himself. Either with his compressor over at the BARn, or at the FREE AIR hose at the Gas Station Chicken Store. However... we all know that this process could take six months or more. So if Mick wants to charge for doing that, so be it. You'd think he'd throw it in as a service, with the exhorbitant amount he's likely to charge for the other work.

I'm a bit concerned, because T-Hoe was at Mick's overnight, ready to start when they opened. And now it's 2:00 on Tuesday, and Farmer H is still there. He sent me a text:

"Im here car still got problem they are looking at"

At least with Farmer H there, I suspect any extra-work, over-charging shenanigans will be curtailed. We'll see. T-Hoe isn't out of the shop yet.

Sometimes, People Need To Be Less Friendly

Bah! Humbug! You know curmudgeonly Mrs. HM does not really like people. In fact, they piss her off. Sometimes through no fault of their own, other than existing within her immediate vicinity. Pity the poor person who tries to make polite small talk. Mrs. HM is not having it! Well... not having it cheerfully.

I was standing at the new lottery machine in Save A Lot on Saturday. With these new machines, you make all your selections first. Then you go to the "checkout" feature, and it shows your list, and accepts payment. You can use cash, winning tickets, or a debit card. I scanned in my winning tickets, and was trying to put in a twenty for the rest of the amount. The machine won't let out any tickets until full payment is complete.

Dang it! That machine wouldn't take cash! The little green slot would not light up. It wouldn't even suck in my twenty and spit it back, like it does then there's a wrinkle or something wrong with the bill. I'd had this problem at 10Box a couple weeks ago. I figure it's because the machine is too full of money.

The problem is, that machine won't let you delete a few tickets from your shopping list. You have to delete ALL of them! Which was a problem, because I had quite a few $5 and $3 tickets, plus a PowerBall football draw ticket, and two $10 crossword tickets. It would have been fine if I could have just deleted the crosswords. But no. I had to buy them all, or delete them all. No way was I using a debit card. Not going down THAT slippery slope! I only buy with winning scratchers, or cash from my weekly allowance.

I had just deleted my entire shopping list when a dude came up behind my right shoulder.

"Saving any winners for me?"

"Oh, I'm sure there will be some left for you! Right now I'm trying to remember what tickets I had selected, because this machine isn't taking my money! I had to delete my selections, and now I'm starting over."

"It won't take money? I'm hoping it will take my twenty..."

Yeah. Whatever. Not my problem. I just wanted to pick my tickets again, and get them out of the machine. Because it had all my credits in there from my winners. No refunds on a lottery machine! You can't print out a credit ticket. I don't know what happens when the machine times out. Probably MOLottery keeps that cashed-in ticket money. I'm pretty sure these new machines re-set after 30 seconds of inactivity. They've given me a countdown before while I was still picking tickets, but that was when I didn't have any money/credit in it yet.

Anyhoo... the guy was just trying to be friendly, I think. Not wanting me to view him as a stalker looking over my shoulder. Just so I'd understand he was actually waiting to buy his own tickets. He didn't do anything wrong. I just don't like people. I don't like being interrupted when I'm in the middle of a scratcher crisis. And because I was rushed since he was waiting, I forgot to get my PowerBall football ticket.

This was not a quickpick. I had selected the 8 teams I wanted to play. Out of a chart of all 32 teams. It shows the helmets with logos, and a 3-letter abbreviation for the city. Don't you worry about Mrs. HM. She still got a ticket on Sunday morning, out of the machine at 10Box. My picks didn't win anything this week, but the quickpick I got at the Gas Station Chicken Store won $7. 

Anyhoo... I would have preferred a silent stalker, rather than this friendly man. I got my (unsatisfactory) tickets out, and proceeded with my shopping. I didn't wait to see if Mr. Nice Guy got the machine to take his twenty. 

Not Sure Whose Day Was Worse (Part 2)

When we last convened, it was Thursday afternoon around 4:15, and Farmer H was telling me that he was planning to drive to town for a new prescription, after having taken his "clean-out" medicine that morning.

"What? You're not coming to town! You might poop yourself! You've taken that medicine."

"Well, I have to get it. It's an antibiotic. They called me two hours ago and said it was ready. I don't even know which doctor prescribed it."

"I guess they'd let me pick it up for you? That my name is on your contacts? It's not a narcotic."

"Yeah, they'd probably let you pick it up. But you don't have to. I'm fine. I can drive to town."

"I'm sitting here RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR PHARMACY! I can do it."

"You could go to the drive-thru."

"Okay. I'll get it."

A car had just left the drive-thru, so I pulled right in. I couldn't reach the buzzer on the side of the building. But three women were milling around. I know one of them saw me. She looked right at me. But continued her milling. I continued my sitting. Staring through the window, trying to mind-control her to come give me service. It worked!

"What do you need?"

"To see if I can pick up my husband's antibiotic. He said it got called in."

"What's your husband's name?"

"Farmer H Hillbilly."

"Date of birth?"

"Month Day, Year."

"And his address?"

"1313 Old Gravel Road, Hillmomba."

"Okay. It looks like it isn't ready yet."

"Well, he said he got a call two hours ago that it was ready."

"It will have to be signed off on. And then I'll have to fill it."

"Do you want me to come in? So I'm not blocking your drive-thru?"

"If you want to. Where is Mr. Farmer, anyway?"

"He's home! He took the clean-out medicine! He's not going anywhere! So how long will it be? Maybe 10-15 minutes?"

"Sure."

She didn't sound all that certain. I drove around front and parked. To sit and wait, rather than go in and stand around. I called Farmer H.

"It's not even ready!"

"They told me it was!"

"Well, some old skinny blond lady told me it's not."

"I don't even know which one that is. If the guy is working, it will take a while. Everything's always late when he's working."

"She DID say 'HE'll have to sign off on it,' so..."

"Yeah. That means it's the guy pharmacist. I'm sorry."

"I'm just sitting here waiting. Good thing I used the Casey's bathroom when I got gas an hour and a half ago."

While I waited, five people pulled up and went in. Only one came back out. 15 minutes passed, and I went inside. There was an old man sitting in the Immunizations area, either before or after a shot. Two men were being waited on at the counter. A woman was in line, but got called to a third register by a man worker. One old guy wrapped up his transaction, and I got to the counter.

The 30-something dark-haired gal was really nice. I asked if they had a prescription ready for Farmer H.

"Of course we do!"

"Well, he DOES keep you guys in business!"

"Here it is. Just enter his phone number on the keypad. People find that easier than signing with their finger."

There was no charge. I was on my way out. The other old man was walking behind me. I stepped aside and told him to go ahead. I'm not winning any races these days.

Farmer H read the info on the bag. It was amoxicillin from the strange man urology NP he saw on Monday.

I know Farmer H is the one who's dealing with this treatment, but I think I had a worse day than he did on Thursday.

Not Sure Whose Day Was Worse (Part 1)

Thursday is my regular errand day. I drive over to Sis-Town and pick up The Pony. Then we go to the bank, to get T-Hoe's gas, and to Country Mart. Sometimes we go in the post office, and other times just drop Genius's weekly letter in the box on their parking lot. It is timed for me to leave the Mansion at 2:00, pick up The Pony at 2:30, and get back to the Gas Station Chicken Store in Hillmomba by 4:00. That's when Man Owner leaves, and the coast is clear to give Fave the scratchers I "tip" her with each week.

Farmer H knew he would be drinking the clean-out medicine, and not going to town all day. He had asked me if Thursday would work for me. Yes! That was the best day, because I'd be away from home (and Farmer H) longer. He got up around 6:00, and drank his medicine as directed.

Not much really happened all morning. I guess maybe it was a different prep than given for colonoscopy tests. Because this one was just a small bottle. Didn't need mixing in a jug to sip all day. Farmer H had the expected results, but nothing urgent or explosive. By 2:00 as I was getting ready to leave, he said,

"If I'd a-knowed this was all that was going to happen, I could have gone to town like normal. There's a bathroom at the flip house, and at the Senior Center."

"Well. Don't be too relaxed. It still might hit you later."

I was off to town, and Farmer H was continuing his annoying habit of not sitting still. He had "cleaned" the bathroom toilet (curious timing, at the start of the morning of this treatment) and sink. He washed four loads of laundry. Actually folded them and put them away. Bagged up a pile of his old shoes and drove them up to the dumpster on the hood of the lawnmower. He snacked all day (also curious timing) on powdered donut holes, Payday Mix, butter cookies, strawberry wafer cookies, and a Drumstick ice cream. Had his regular breakfast of a protein bar and banana, and a lunch of mini sausage biscuits and Ruffles potato chips. It's a wonder he got "cleaned out" at all!

Anyhoo... I was trapped there with fidgety Farmer H until 2:00. I'm surprised he didn't get out the vacuum and tell me to lift my feet! Aside from my nerves being shot by my constant companionship, I escaped relatively unscathed for my town trip.

The bank lady took forever to serve the single (of three) drive-thru lanes that they have open lately. The wind was whipping strongly at Casey's when we stopped for gas. Temps were upper 70s, so it wasn't a chilling wind. Just powerful. In fact, The Pony jumped out to come around and hold my door open for me to get out, and then back in. That wind would not let T-Hoe's heavy doors stay open long enough for my egress and ingress.

Grocery shopping and mail were uneventful. I dropped off The Pony, and made it to the Gas Station Chicken Store at 4:05. That's when the rest of my day hopped on the express handbasket to Not-Heaven.

Fave's car was not on the parking lot! It was Other Gal's car. So my "payoff" would be delayed until Friday. Meaning I would have to go to town later than I like, to avoid Man Owner. And even so, Fave might not be there that day, either.

I did my business with Other Gal. Once back in T-Hoe, I called Farmer H to tell him I was starting home with the groceries. It takes 10 minutes. This way, he can be watching, and come out to carry for me. 

"Okay. I have to come to town anyway once you get here. I have another prescription."

To Be Continued...

I Guess I Can't Tell Him He's Full Of It

For a couple days, I'll have to find another way to tell Farmer H that he's full of it. Because even though he figuratively is, he literally isn't.

Remember that surgery Farmer H had way back on August 13? The "roto-rootering" of his prostate, as he called it? He's still not back to normal, and it's been two months! The innernets say it could take three months. I hope so. Meaning I hope that's all it takes, is a little more time. I don't like Farmer H being miserable, unless I'm the one causing it.

Monday, he went back to the doctor to complain. Not the surgeon responsible, but a work-in appointment with a urology NP. This was a traveling guy who works all over the country. Farmer H was impressed, after being scared.

"This wasn't the regular gal who sees me up there. This was a big man! He looked like a lumberjack. He had a beard. His hands were HUGE. He might have been some kind of foreigner, but he didn't have no accent, and his name looks American. But he was wearing almost I guess what you'd call a turban on his head. 

Anyway, he told me to get that stuff you take before a colonoscopy. The clean-out medicine. He says I might not THINK I'm constipated, but that is what could be causing me not to be able to pee. And that straining breaks blood clots loose from the healing, even though it shouldn't still be doing it now, and that could block me from peeing. Also, he wants me to have another scan. He looked at the one the gal had done last time, and didn't notice anything in it."

Well. Farmer H got the scan ordered the next day. They gave him the runaround, saying he went to the wrong place, and then the other place said they didn't have an order, and then he had to also have a blood test. It was a mess-up of epic proportions, but at least this new strange man got things done at his end.

Which brings us to Farmer H's end. A story to be continued...

A New Wishy-Washy Turn Concerning T-Hoe's Gas Tank Problem

Sometimes I wish the excuses I'm given would remain consistent! Farmer H is a master of excuses, especially where T-Hoe's needs are concerned. I'm sure you recall the problem with T-Hoe's gas tank not wanting to allow gasoline in at a normal pace.

First there was the excuse that he would have to get under T-Hoe and take something apart to replace whatever is clogged. Too much trouble.

Second, it was just because of Casey's pumps. SilverRedO did the same thing. Get my gas somewhere else. Like that station next to the Devil's Playground.

Third, Farmer H had an appointment with Mick the Mechanic to fix T-Hoe. But since he couldn't guarantee he'd be done by 10:30 so Farmer H could get to Illinois with his buddy for lunch and a merchandise-buying trip, he canceled the appointment.

Fourth, Mick was too expensive. That would cost a lot for labor, him taking so long. So Farmer H was going to get an appointment with the dealer over in Sis-Town.

Fifth, that's just too much time to spend sitting at the dealer waiting for the work to be done. Time that could be spent working on the flip houses. (Yeah, right! More likely fiddling around at the SUS2.5)

Sixth, we COULD get an appointment with Mick, but then I might not have T-Hoe one day, and I'd have to miss my town trip, because he would take so long.

Seventh, just go to Casey's. Use the pump farthest from the door. It has less pressure in it than the ones closer. So the gas goes in almost like normal.

I've had enough! I told Farmer H that I'm tired of (The Pony) taking 15 minutes to pump half a tank of gas every week. This has been going on since JUNE! That he needs to get an appointment with Mick for Tuesday. 

On Monday, we have the yearly meeting with our financial advisor. I will meet Farmer H there, then on the way home, he can meet me at Mick's and drive me home in SilverRedO. The work will get done on Tuesday. And Tuesday afternoon, Farmer H can bring T-Hoe home, and on my way back to town, I'll drop him off to get SilverRedO.

There's no need for me to miss a town trip. It just means Farmer H can't be carousing all over the county on Tuesday afternoon. He'll try to finagle his way into coming home at 4:00, but I'm demanding 2:00, my regular town time. T-Hoe should be finished before noon, anyway. And I'm sure Farmer H isn't spending his time after lunch working on flip houses. Otherwise, they'd be done by now!

A Small Victory

Careful. Don't ASSUME. You know what that does to you and me. This victory has nothing to do with Farmer H finally fixing anything. FRIG II's icemaker, and T-Hoe's gas tank, remain unmolested by repairman hands. No, this victory is more personal.

I don't remember if I have mentioned my toenail. I think I did, way back when I first started my leg therapy. Maybe before, about how gnarled and hooflike the great toenail on my right foot had become with my advancing age. How it was hard to clip, and in fact I bought new, longer-handled clippers for more force. Clippers that made me think of hoof-trimmers used by farriers, or Dr. Pol of TV vet fame. 

Anyhoo... I related how this toenail was an embarrassment for me during leg therapy, even though OT had reassured me that she dealt with much worse. And has even had several POP OFF INTO HER HAND when taking off compression socks. 

These compression socks, which I must wear all day, every day, for the rest of my life... are a pain in the toenail! It never ends! Compression, compression, compression! Pulling tighter with every step. With every wiggle of my toes. There's no getting away from it. OT said that some patients cut off the toes. Of the compression socks, of course! Not off their feet! But that only meant that the socks would creep up through the day, up the foot, to the ankle. And that would allow the foot to swell. 

Anyhoo... this tale is not about the great toenail of my right foot. It's about the great toenail of my left foot. A toenail which had no problem until a couple weeks ago, when it got a little hangnail kind of thingy on the medial edge. As with a hangnail on my fingers, I slathered it with triple antibiotic ointment to keep it moist and infection free. It takes longer for a toe hangnail to heal. Especially one shut away in a hot compression sock for 22 hours a day.

That left great toenail finally quit being painful, feeling pinched when the sock would press on the end. I kept up the ointment slathering after showering. Then a few days ago, I noticed that toenail (which was not hooflike at all, but like a standard toenail) was wiggly. It could flap a little, like a talking cartoon shoe. THEN when I was bent down scrubbing it in the shower, that toenail slid sideways a little bit. To the 1:00 position. I told The Pony about it. Who retched and stated a desire not to be informed further.

I didn't want to force that toenail to move. Just left it alone, so to speak, with ointment and care not to bump it or get a sock thread caught on it.

Well. This morning (Wednesday) in the shower, as I was gently scrubbing with only liquid shampoo and my bare fingers... that great left toenail slid up and off the toe.

I WAS ECSTATIC! 

One less toenail to worry about! If only the HOOF would do the same! My toe looks like a normal toe. Except with a see-through toenail. The depression of a toenail is still there. But smooth. 

Pardon me for not sharing photos with you. I really don't like feet. Not even my own. I will spare you this sight, in case you might have the same opinion as The Pony.

Good thing I'm not a songwriter or a poet. An ode might be in order.

The Anxious Doggy Daddy

Pepper's new collar has been doing its job. Well, Pepper has been responding, it's not just the collar. Today (Tuesday), Pepper's feedback response rating is 90%. We're so proud! 

Monday was stressfull for Farmer H. You'd think he was a proud new papa, from the way he carried on about Pepper. It started with a text at 11:58.

"Have you seen pepper says he was out of satellite area"

"I'll look out. Says battery is low."

We check on the phone app randomly, to see if Pepper has breached the fence, or where he might be on the property. I saw that the battery symbol showed an hour left. That was unusual. It's usually got 36 hours with a full charge. We take the collar off every evening, and charge it for an hour. It shouldn't have been so low at noon.

I went to the kitchen door and called Pepper. Jack came wriggling around the corner, thrilled to see me. He got pats while I waited on Pepper. The last location had been out in the Shackytown Boulevard area. I don't know if Pepper came from there, or out by the carport. But he DID come running. Both dogs got a treat, and I took off Pepper's collar for charging. I sent Farmer H a text so he knew that all was well.

We are not happy with that collar battery! THIS TIME, we think it might have been the slow internet on Sunday. Maybe the collar kept trying to connect, and when it couldn't hold the signal, it switched to the GPS signal. Which also wasn't strong, because of clouds.

Right now, it's 2:19, and the collar shows 9 hours left. We charge it around 4:00, so that's fine. It also has a strong wi-fi and GPS signal at the moment. Pepper is out behind the garage.

I know Farmer H has been checking on Pepper all day. He said he was going to keep an eye on the battery life. I tried to tell him that it's not the end of the world if the battery goes dead. Pepper doesn't know it's dead. Pepper still remembers getting shocks. He's likely to avoid those areas. And even IF he would leave our fence area, he won't go far. The worst that could happen, I imagine, is that he goes to the neighbor's house, where he may or may not make their dogs bark, and may or may not be seen by them. It's not like Pepper is a wandering Scarlett.

A Whining Update

It's Monday now. My sickness is progressing. It has been fairly mild, as colds go. Sunday morning was the worst, with chills and then burning up, though I didn't feel like I had a fever. Just an inability to regulate my temperature. My eyes were sensitive to the sunlight when I went to town. I had a few sniffles, but not enough to cart around Puffs. Some sneezes later Sunday evening. Now I feel a bit of nose stuffiness and ear crackling. A tiny bit of wheeziness in the chest. But sometimes, I forget that I am sick. I have hope, because Farmer H seems to be getting over his bout, and it's the eighth day for him.

Farmer H picked up Domino's Pizza for us on Sunday evening. So I still had that treat. AND (knock on everything wooden within reach!) I still am able to taste. I attribute our quick recovery to doubling up on the vitamins. They contain vitamin C, zinc, and quercetin, which fight the replication of a virus.

Farmer H made another trip down the 13 rail-less steps to the basement on Sunday night. He was going to one of the safes anyway, after a weekend of business at his SUS2.5. But he DID re-set the router and satellite receiver again while he was down there. And it WORKED! My internet is back to regular speed! Though still too slow for The Pony's tastes, and just the mention of it makes me reach for all things wood again. I might have a new complaint, about bruised knuckles from knocking.

Still no ice from FRIG II. Farmer H looked up fixes on his phone Monday morning, and says he will try some of them when he gets home.

We continue not to think about T-Hoe's gas tank issue...

Not A Good Day For Mrs. HM

Here it is, Sunday at 1:30 p.m., and Mrs. HM is not having a good day. The Pony was supposed to come out for a visit. We had plans to pick up Domino's Pizza (this is the last day of the half-price sale), and play Upwords and chat until Farmer H got home.

Those plans were ruined on Saturday, when I came down with Farmer H's sickness! He ruins everything! I didn't even get close to him, other than not moving as he walked past after coming in the kitchen door. I'd make his supper, and move to another area while he fetched it. I made sure not to touch my face after handling the TV remote. I told him a couple times to stop breathing (!) in my direction. Which he denied. He's been sick since Tuesday. And now I've got it. Maybe from being careless after touching the faucets, perhaps. At the kitchen sink, the bathroom sink, and the laundry room where I filled a pitcher for the dogs' water.

Anyhoo... I told The Pony on Saturday morning that I had a sore throat, and was afraid I might be getting sick. The Pony decided not to risk it. I was sad. Of course I didn't want to make The Pony sick. But I was disappointed. Maybe we can try NEXT weekend, except for the Domino's part.

Adding to my misery is my January-molasses-slow internet. It's been creeping along since Friday. I don't know what's going on. I get the spinny circle, or timed-out notices. Then it will work again in three or four minutes. It's not like when my HIPPIE locks me out for an hour. 

Farmer H says my slow internet is from the hurricane. I am doubtful. This is MISSOURI! No hurricane affecting us. The Pony snorted at that assumption. Said our internet comes out of Chicago. I don't know the source of that information. The Pony also pooh-poohed my (conspiracy) theory that everyone's internet is slow because the government is snooping around trying to catch a terrorist plot, or just generally spy on election shenanigans. The Pony says that is SO FAR-FETCHED, when my own local personal internet connection is likely the culprit, and not a nationwide scheme.

I had Farmer H go down those 13 rail-less steps to the basement, and re-set the router and the satellite receiver. It did not affect the speed of my internet.

Also, FRIG II's icemaker quit again last week. I have been surviving on a bag of ice from 10Box. Let's not even think about T-Hoe's gas tank issue...

Maybe An Explanation, Though Not A Pleasant One

Remember last week, when I saw a dog standing beside our gravel road, and he ran after T-Hoe like he was lost? I think he really WAS lost! Now Farmer H has provided a piece to the puzzle.

"Our neighbor put a picture on Facebook, asking if somebody has seen a dog. It's a DALMATION! Must be the one she said was Pepper, down by the mailboxes. She should be able to tell the difference in a Dalmatian and Pepper. It's got big black spots!"

"Well, she's only seen Pepper a couple of times, I think. The first time when he was new, and the next time when her husband said he makes their dogs bark at night. I'm still not convinced that was Pepper's fault, even though I know he went over there."

"I felt like getting on Facebook and leaving her a message. Like, 'Oh, is that the dog you said was mine?' But I didn't."

"So it's just a lost Dalmatian?"

"No. There's a picture of two dogs. One is brown."

"Wait! I saw that brown dog last week. Does it look like part German Shepherd, but with longer legs and shorter hair?"

"No. Not really. Here. I'll show you the pictures. Somebody out on the county blacktop road lost them."

"That brown one looks like it! Like the one I saw."

"It says he's part beagle."

"Oh. I could see that. But he's got longer legs than a beagle. He's brown and black, like I saw."

"It says that's the one they're looking for. She said there's a $500 reward, if that makes anybody more interested."

"It wouldn't surprise me if he's around here. That's why our dogs are going crazy at night, and Pepper has been trying to breach the fence down by the creek, and past the Freight Container Garage for the past two days."

"Maybe. Because he usually doesn't go down there."

"Wouldn't it be funny if we found that dog, and got the reward? It would pay for Pepper's collar. I don't think I'd want the reward, though. Those people must really love that dog, to offer so much to get him back. The one I saw had tags. If he's found, the people should be able to get him back."

"Yeah. They must really want him."

"If somebody was keeping him, the reward would make them likely to give him back."

As I type this at 9:30 on Friday night, Jack is barking in the front yard...

Forget Me (And Me Too) Not

Mrs. HM has ways of finding out things Farmer H would rather keep hidden from her. He's really not all that clever. Which I think you probably know by now. He's good at a lot of things, but keeping secrets is not one of them.

I might have mentioned a couple weeks ago that Farmer H forgot his phone. Left it on the nightstand when he left for town at 6:00 a.m. I didn't notice until mid-morning, when I heard it ring, and answered a call from The Veteran. Farmer H came home to get it after lunch.

Farmer H forgot something more important (to him) last Saturday. His MONEY! Yes. That's HIS money! The wad of money in a clip, that he carries in his front pocket. He's a cash business, you know. And besides, you never can tell when he might come upon a bargain on Facebook, or sitting in somebody's driveway. Farmer H needs his cash. I saw it lying on the dresser in the bedroom.

I was shocked that Farmer H didn't call me to see if it was here. Or arrange for me to bring it to him. I suppose he made enough sales to have cash on hand to buy items later in the day. Or he might have made trades instead. However he dealt with it, Farmer H did not come home until the regular closing time on Saturday.

"Did you forget something?"

"Yeah! My MONEY! I got my donut at Casey's, and I didn't have no money..."

I could see right away that Farmer H's mouth had flapped before his brain could stop it.

"OH! So you still get a donut every morning at Casey's."

"No. No. Not every morning. I just wanted one today."

"Did they let you have it for free?"

"No. I had money. In my billfold. Regular money. So I paid for it. But that's when I knew I forgot my money. I didn't have time to come home and get it."

I sure don't know why not. It only takes 10 minutes to get home. And five minutes to get back to the highway that he takes to get to his SUS2.5. I don't think the world would have ended if he was 15 minutes later, opening his store at 6:45 instead of 6:30.

But now I know that he's STILL getting a donut (every morning, I suspect), in addition to the banana and apple and protein breakfast bar and small baggie of animal cookies that I set out with his lunch.

I guess Farmer H will be more careful now about remembering his phone and money.

One Number Away

Every day, I buy The Pony a Show Me Cash draw ticket. It costs $1, but I get the $2 version with the Easy Match play. It can win from $1 to $500. There are five chances to win a random assortment of amounts, by matching the five numbers on the ticket. A couple times a week, The Pony's quick pick ticket wins $2-$3.

Every morning, I check the winning draw numbers on my phone. The MOLottery app is terrible. Since the last two updates, my phone is all static on that app, but by tilting it just right, I can scan scratcher barcodes. It will NOT work on the draw tickets now. I can usually just eyeball it. It's only five numbers. But sometimes I don't have my glasses, and I'll check later on HIPPIE, to be sure.

This was Tuesday's ticket. I knew it won on Easy Match, because it makes a sound when the ticket prints out. I had checked in the car, and wrote on top that it won $2. In glancing glasses-lessly at the winning draw numbers Wednesday morning, I thought The Pony had matched three numbers. As I recall, that's $10. So I figured this ticket won $12 total. Still, I wanted to check on HIPPIE. Good thing I did!

The winning numbers that day were: 6, 15, 26, 34, 39

The Pony had matched FOUR numbers out of five. The prize was $250 !!!

I was shocked. The odds of getting four numbers were 1 in 3,386.

We're not complaining! The Pony is happy with this prize. But if we'd had only one more matching number, the jackpot that night was $72,000. It changes every drawing, depending on when it was last won. Then it re-sets to $50,000 and goes up according to how many tickets are sold, until it is won again. The odds for getting all five numbers are 1 in 575,757. The jackpot had been up to $502,000 on May 24th.

Anyhoo... that was a little bit of excitement to report. It wasn't even sold to me by Fave, but by the Other Gal, on Tuesday.

A Not-So-Secret Admirer

There was only one person at the counter of the Gas Station Chicken Store on Saturday. An older man, dressed neatly in a dark blue knit shirt, gray pants, and dark blue jogging shoes. He was chuckling with Fave. They seemed familiar with each other. For a split second, I wondered if it was her dad. That would be wishful thinking, though. I don't imagine that he's recovered so fast from his hospitalization a couple weeks ago.

"Okay, then. I'll get going. I'll see ya, Fave. Oh! Got a bunch of winners there?"

"I have a bunch of winners, but they're not BIG winners! They'll do."

Chuckles went out the door. He was parked out of sight, on the front side of the building.

"That guy! He comes in here all the time and flirts with me."

"He seems like a nice guy. I couldn't see what he drives. But he had nice shoes!"

"It's probably that little white pickup truck. He told me I was beautiful! And then said I was blushing."

"Well, why WOULDN'T he tell you that? And you ARE blushing, heh, heh."

"But I'm 48 years old!"

I can see why Chuckles would be flirting with Fave. She doesn't look her age. I might have guessed 38. She is outgoing, and gives off positive energy. I'm happy she has a not-so-secret admirer. Everybody likes to feel appreciated.

A Confederacy Of Rascals (Part 2)

Here it was, 11:00 on Sunday night, and I'd just learned that my package of dog treats had been delivered the previous day at 3:38. Well. Good luck to me finding it now. I tried to check the FedEx shipping details, hoping for a picture, to see if it actually came to the Mansion. No photo. I swear I usually get one. Then again, I usually get a notice on the morning it goes out for delivery. Wait a minute! It said it was "left on front porch."

I turned on the porch light and looked out. Nothing. I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. To my left, about five feet away, was my little Jack. SITTING BY A BOX. An open box. Jack hunkered down an walked to me. He looked guilty as all get-out, even though I had not said a word in my shock. Jack licked at my CROCS and rolled onto his back.

"It's okay, Jack. You're not in trouble. You're a good boy. Let's see about this box."

After reassuring Jack some more, and giving Pepper, who had come from the back porch by now, a cursory pat... I carried the box into the house.

THE TWO PACKS OF DOG TREATS WERE INSIDE!

How in the Not-Heaven had those treats survived 31.5 hours on the porch with two chewing dogs??? It was a miracle. The packing slip was inside, too.

They had definitely been working on getting into that box! Two corners were chewed. The clear tape was gone. Any packing materials were gone. I had seen Pepper in the front yard with a black mass that looked like a shredded garbage bag on Saturday. It might have been those blow-up packing pillow thingies.

This might be a case of the recipient enjoying the box more than the gift! Don't mind Farmer H's stack of clean shorts on the couch. It's become his new closet.

I'm guessing the box was actually sealed when it was delivered. I suppose the dogs might have tried sticking their heads in to get at the treats, but the flaps might have closed on their necks and spooked them. Otherwise, the treats must not be very appealing!

Poor little Jack. He probably has PTSD from the time he ate 1/3 of Genius's gift of a bison leather wallet that was also delivered to the front porch by FedEx, and found in the front yard/field in Jack's mouth! Heh, heh. Maybe all that thumping I heard was Jack trying to take the box away from Pepper, because he knew it was wrong!

Yeah. I don't believe that scenario. Those rascally dogs took great advantage of the laxity of the rascally FedEx delivery team.

A Confederacy Of Rascals (Part 1)

It's that time of year. The time for school fundraisers. I got a text from The Veteran a couple weeks ago. It was only a link. No message. I thought he meant it for Farmer H. They both deal in the same kind of merchandise with their businesses. I thought that's what the link was for. Farmer H said he did not recognize such a link.

I don't like clicking those things on my phone. I entered it in HIPPIE, and saw that it was a fundraising site for one of The Veteran's daughters. Of course I always contribute to such fundraising activities for the relative children. I looked for something to buy.

I don't need wrapping paper or overpriced candy. So I settled on overpriced dog treats. I realize that I'm getting very little for the money. But it's something that I don't have to worry about melting or being stolen or forgotten in the order. We made a donation, and that's all that counts. I also checked to have it delivered, so we didn't have to bother with Farmer H picking it up from The Veteran's house. His time is so valuable, you know!

On October 2, I got an email that my order had shipped. Okay. Usually, on the day of the anticipated delivery, I get an email from FedEx. Our orders come out of Rolla, MO. That's a 2-hour drive to Hillmomba. Sometimes later in the day, I get a 2-4 hour window of time. Sometimes the delivery doesn't happen, and later that night I get another notice that the order is delayed until the next day. Whatever. It was two little bags of dog treats. Not a big deal. I knew they had shipped from the fundraiser supplier on October 2.

I didn't get any further notices. I didn't dwell on it. Sometimes things take a while to get here. I didn't even check the tracking, I was so not concerned.

On October 4, Sunday night around 11:00, I started wondering about when the dog treats might arrive. I followed the tracking number.

WHAT? My package had been delivered on October 3, Saturday, at 3:38 p.m. 

I was in town at that time. Left around 3:15, and got home at 4:15. I had even passed a FedEx truck on the county blacktop road, on a curve over the hill from Mailbox Row. He had pulled off on a gravel road, and was tippy-toeing along the side of that curve to pick up a bright orange "come-a-long" canvas strap that had been there for two day. [Farmer H said he stopped, but it didn't have all its parts.] The FedEx truck made me think about my dog treats. I had looked at the porch as I came down the driveway, but didn't see a package.

Where was my package???

A Pepper-y Panic

We have an evening routine now. When Farmer H comes home, he takes off Pepper's collar and puts it on the charger plugged in by the kitchen door. Then he sits outside with the dogs, playing on his phone. I am at the table with my scratchers, and tell him when the collar is charged. It usually takes 45-50 minutes. The indicator light goes from a flashing, spinning, green circle of dots to a single green dot. The battery seems to old a charge of about 36 hours. 

When Pepper breaches the electronic fence, we get a notice on the app. The symbol is a yellow paw print. The problem is that our phones don't work well inside the Mansion. I blame the metal roof. Sometimes we don't get the notice until an hour after it happens. That's not a big problem. Pepper has always come right back into the fence after a shock. It's not like we would immediately rush out to search for him.

I hear the dogs throughout the day, thumping around, wrestling on the front porch in the morning. I hear them bark in the front yard. They spend a lot of the day lying under the carport, in separate holes dug in the gravel where Farmer H parks SilverRedO. Pepper's toys are often out behind the garage. I don't obsessively check the Halo 5 Collar app.

Saturday, I didn't look at it until around 2:30, when I was leaving for town. It showed Pepper's last known location to be in front of Shackytown Boulevard. There's a small sinkhole there. More like a collapsed little mini-cave. There's a solid bottom, and a bit of a top. Farmer H says they go over that way all the time, barking under the shacks. So I suspected Pepper was snooping out a varmint.

When I left, neither dog came running for a treat. I didn't hear them barking. That was odd. In town, I checked the app again. It showed Pepper still in the same place. The icon was not lit up. It didn't move to sync with Pepper's current location. When I squinted, I saw that under Pepper's picture it said 9 HOURS AGO! 

That worried me. Did Pepper's collar fall off? Or was Pepper hurt? I called The Pony to check on the app. The Pony said, "Hm. It says CHARGE BATTERY. So I guess that's just the last place Pepper was before the battery died."

Well. That was kind of a relief. But not. Because Pepper could be anywhere! He'd been 9 hours without any buzzers, whistles, messages, or shocks to discourage him from leaving the boundary. He's used to staying closer to home now. And he knows his way around. So I hoped he wasn't reveling in his freedom and traipsing all over the countryside.

I had seen Farmer H charging that collar the night before. I saw with my own eyes how he attached the charger. And how the light turned solid green after 50 minutes. It was easier to believe that he hadn't gotten the clasp closed. Pepper is wiggly with him when the collar goes on. I couldn't explain why the battery went dead around 7:00 a.m.

I DO recall that the collar was covered with mud. Farmer H thought Pepper had been rolling around after a slight rain. Maybe the connectioin wasn't good during the charge. It's magnetic. The charger itself plugs into the wall, but the part attaching to the collar is 6 or 7 little dots, which line up with such dots on the battery part of the collar.

When I got home, I was very happy to see Pepper come running out behind the garage with Jack. They jumped over the side, and raced into their trail in the woods. That was not making me happy. The dead collar would not discourage Pepper from breaching the fence there this time. Luckily, Pepper turned right, and ran behind the Mansion with his nose to the ground, rather than staying with Jack at the border of the neighbor's property.

I took off Pepper's collar to take it in for a charge. The connection area was very dusty. I blew on it and wiped it with my finger. It started charging. Took 1:15 this time. It was really most sincerely dead.

Farmer H came home, saying that Pepper hadn't breached the fence all day.

"You don't know that! Look at your app. Since 7:00 this morning, it hasn't worked. The Pony said the battery was dead. I just now put it on the charger."

"Huh. It DOES say the battery is dead."

"I don't know where you guys are seeing that. My phone doesn't show me."

Farmer H picked up my phone to prove me wrong. But also said it wasn't there. He fiddled around until he opened something that displayed the battery life for me. So now I can check.

The battery has worked fine all day. It's 2:00 now, and it still has 15 hours left. So that must have just been a problem with the mud and grit messing with the charging. I HOPE!

Pepper is fine. I think he was a good dog. I doubt he even knew he was free.

Scratchin' Tickets And Pickin' Bones

I have a bone to pick with the Missouri Lottery! It's about the new scratcher tickets that came out on Monday. No, not because they're CHRISTMAS tickets already. But because the new $5 ticket has a feature never used before. It's a QR code!

Ain't nobody got time for no QR code on a scratcher!!! At least this old gal. I want to scratch my ticket, and know if I won something. I don't want to pull out my phone and scan to see if I got a bonus prize. I only scan later, before I leave for town to cash in actual winners. I scan both winners and losers then, to make sure I didn't miss anything. I use the MOLottery app for that. I have no idea how to scan a QR code. That's just an extra, unnecessary step!

I asked The Pony how to do it. "[SIGH] Oh, Mother. I'll show you sometime." No. I'm not that curious if it takes an in-person lesson.

I looked on the MOLottery Facebook page, to see if other people were complaining. TRAITORS! Of the comments I saw, 80-90 percent of the people LIKE IT. But one of them said, "Not a fan. Not everybody is tech savvy. I imagine a lot of winners will be thrown away." I agree. I'm a technology simpleton. 

Anyhoo... I also found out, from the reply by the MOLottery official spokesperson, that the only time there's a winner on the QR code is when there's also a winner elsewhere on the ticket. AND that when you use the MOLottery app to scan the barcode at the bottom of the ticket, the result will inclue any QR prize that might be won.

So... as long as I scan the tickets in my usual pattern, I won't miss any QR code win. 

Good to know. Consider that bone picked.

Humans' Critters

The gory dead armadillo was gone the next day, as well as the turkey buzzards. In the fall and winter, those turkey buzzards hang out in the trees of Farmer H and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill. Hundreds of them! We see them all the time when driving home as the sun is near to setting. I'm not sure when they'll return. Maybe they are always there, and we don't see them because we're home when the sun sets around 8:00 in the summer.

Anyhoo... this week I've seen two new critters down by the mailboxes, on consecutive days. They were lurking a short way up the gravel road, after I passed the three parked cars waiting for their kids to be delivered by the school bus.

The first was a cat. Fully grown, not a kitten. A gray striped tabby, standing on the left side of the road, who backed up into the underbrush as I drove by.

The second was a dog, a bit further up the road, by where there's a little waterfall in the creek, and a short path to get there. He was on the right side of the road, standing with all four feet on the gravel. He was definitely part German Shepherd, from his coloring. The other part must have been some kind of hound. He had longer legs than a shepherd, and a shorter back, and a less-feathery tail. He had a collar, with tags. As I passed, he RAN AFTER ME! Not alongside, barking, like a car-chaser. He ran up the middle of the road, following me. Like a lost dog, looking for his people.

I don't know anybody out here with a dog like that. If somebody dumped him, surely they would have taken off his collar and tag, which might trace him back to them. Maybe he was just curious and out roaming. 

I told Farmer H about the dog, so if he came to the Mansion, we could check his tag and see if we could find his people. Doggy stopped chasing after about a quarter mile, just before I got to the Badly Blacktopped Hill.

Farmer H said, "Did he look like Pepper?"

"No. I told you, he looked like part German Shepherd. He was brown and black. OH! I get it! Like the neighbor called you about a dog down by the mailboxes, saying it was Pepper!"

"Yeah. I guess she'll have to find somebody else to complain to about her dogs barking now. And you know, they never even said, 'Thanks for stopping your dog from coming over.' They ain't never gonna say anything good about it."

"Probably not. I almost hope some other animal makes their dogs bark at night!"

We're terrible, I know. It's our responsibility to keep Pepper from annoying people. But still, I refuse to admit that the barking problem was solely due to Pepper.

The Drag Boys Come For Fave

There were some old cars parked at the pumps of the Gas Station Chicken Store on Saturday. It was a bit unusual. I wondered if there might be a car show in town. When I entered, three great big guys were standing at the register. Beefy guys, late 20s, in shirts with sleeves cut off. Shorts, crew socks, muscular tanned calves. TALKING LOUDLY!

Also, the two guys waiting were antsy. You know, when people sway from side to side, shifting their weight, doing a disorganized waltz step while marking time. The guys were perfectly polite, having assorted conversations with Fave, talking over themselves while filling in parts of the story.

Apparently, they were from out of state, in town for the drag races. They're held on the "flats," which are tailings left over from the lead mining days. Back when I first met Farmer H, and we were tooling around in his Fred Sanford truck, with me spotlighted in the one painted door, we went to the drag races. Several of us from our apartments would load up a cooler and lawn chairs. It wasn't frowned upon to ride in a lawn chair in the back of a pickup truck back then. 

Anyhoo... since those days, some apartments have been built near the drag strip. There's also a Super 8 Motel there. From eavesdropping (which was unavoidable at the decibels they were exuding), I gathered that Fave lives in those apartments, and had been awakened by the loud revving of their race vehicles. Though you would think most of them would have been hauled on trailers.

It was all I could do to stay there in line. If I was less addicted to my scratchers, I would have left. I don't like big loud people milling around in tight spaces. There was nothing wrong with the behavior of the drag guys. I'm just an old lady who has retired teacher ears, and unstable knees.

My interaction with Fave was short that day, as two of the guys who had left came back in for something else. Fave made up for it the next day by asking if I was still losing weight. Flattery gets her everywhere!

Apparently, Fave's dad is doing okay now. She said he told her: "You know that 23 pounds you lost? You look like you've gained it back." Poor Fave. I told her that didn't need to be mentioned, heh, heh. Oh, and Fave won $60 on the tickets I gave her Thursday. Things seem to be looking up.

I Wonder If That Varmint Got Peppered

Pepper has been adjusting to his new boundaries, with the assistance of Mr. Zapper. Mr. Zapper packs a stronger punch than Mr. Shocky, who was used to train little Jack not to chase the neighbors' horses. Mr. Shocky was controlled by hand. Funny how the boys also tested Mr. Shocky on themselves, before deciding on a setting for Jack. I'd put the collar on him when I started my driveway walks. 

Juno and Jack loved those outings, and would rove up and down the driveway with me, wrestling each other. Then Jack might make a dash across the road into the horse field when we got to the end. I'd yell, "JACK! NO!" If he continued into the horse field, I pushed the button to give him a "reminder." It only took a week of walks for Jack to completely stop his chasing.

Mr. Zapper will not be ignored! After the unfortunate SilverRedO incident, Pepper has only received that shock four times. The last was two days ago, and the squirrel-hunter breach was two days before that. Pepper hasn't even gotten the turn-back at the warning track notification for two days.

The last breach was on Monday morning. It was down on the other end of our property, in an area with cedars where Farmer H keeps the grass mowed. Not in the woods, not on the gravel road. Just the property line where The Pony has set the fence. Over the weekend, Pepper had been in that cedar area, barking. It's past the Freight Container Garage. Pepper had also spend a lot of time over by the BARn. We could see him on our app, and he would come running from that direction to greet me at the driveway. We didn't know what the attraction was over there.

I think I know!

When I came home Tuesday afternoon, I saw what I thought were turkeys on the gravel road by that lower section of our land. Getting closer, I saw they were TURKEY BUZZARDS! As big as turkeys, but with that rubbery red head. They grudgingly moved out of my way. Not flying, mind you. Just kind of walk/hopping. As I went by, I saw why there were there.

On the edge of the gravel, barely over on the neighbor's side, was a dead armadillo! It was so fresh that the gaping hole in its side was bright blood red. I don't know if it was dead or dying when the turkey buzzards hacked through that hard armor-ish shell.

I wonder if that's what Pepper had been fascinated with in that area. We found a dead armadillo out by the carport weeks ago. Farmer H says that when he's outside, sometimes the dogs are obsessed with something under one of his Shackytown Boulevard structures. So maybe that armadillo has been living here, and Pepper stalking it. Probably chasing it when he breached the fence over there on Monday.

I don't know if maybe Pepper got ahold of it and injured it, then it crawled across the road. Or if another animal like a fox or coyote got it. I don't know if their mouth is even big enough to do damage to that shell. Pepper's mouth is pretty big.

That's just my theory. I think the other armadillo was already dead when they drug it behind the carport. It didn't show any sign of trauma.