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.

A Sticky Problem

I'm so glad I chose the right bandaid to cover up my ugly arm hole during time spent in public. I knew I had finally found a kind that didn't make my skin turn red and itch. I just couldn't remember WHICH kind. I knew it was some type of supermarket bandaid, not the real brand. The problem was, I had two varieties on my kitchen counter.

Don't go thinking I use my food prep area for treating wounds, heh, heh! Even though the last few pictures were posed on my cutting board. The kitchen counter is where I charge my phone, so handy to pick up up and take a photo there. Also, the kitchen is where I'm most likely to need a bandaid in a hurry. It's not like I'm going to injure myself in the bathroom, and fetch one out of the medicine cabinet. By the time I made it to the bathroom with a dripping wound, there'd be a suspicious trail of blood across the carpet. Maybe I should stash some bandaids on the mantle of the fake electric fireplace!

Anyhoo... here's the best-ever bandaid for my papery thin old lady skin:

I found this kind at 10Box. I think I've figured out why they don't make me itch.

See that last line before the fine print? "Not made with natural rubber latex." I think I might have a sensitivity to latex. Or natural rubber. I need to read the package for that clear tape I used around the gauze bandage. Because that made me VERY itchy, just like other bandaids.

Here's the other bandaids that were on the kitchen counter. I need to move this box to the bathroom medicine cabinet. Farmer H can still use them. He's not at all sensitive, heh, heh.

This came from Country Mart. Of course I didn't know at the time I bought them that they would make me itch. Both boxes say "Comparable to Johnson & Johnson"(this one), or "Comparable to Band Aid" (the other box). Both referring to the Johnson & Johnson Band Aid brand. I don't know if I've tried the actual Band Aid fabric version to see if I can tolerate it. No need, as long as I have my 10Box bandages.

No mention of natural rubber latex on this one. Or should I say no mention of not containing it.

I don't know when my skin decided it was allergic to the stickiness of bandaids. I never had a problem when I was younger. I guess it's like with the ampicillin reaction, and the cefprozil reaction. I wasn't allergic until I WAS.

The Healing Is Almost Complete

The hole in my forearm is closing up nicely. Or not so nicely, depending on whether you're the person with a hole in your arm, or a person who has to look at it. The injury happened on Sept 15, when I stood up from my OPC (Old People Chair) and caught my left arm on the corner of our fake electric fireplace. Now it's been two weeks. The "grape jelly" scab has maintained its integrity.

I have left it open at home. I told The Pony that I don't like to subject people to seeing it when I go to town, and got the reply, "You're right. It's hideous!"

The Pony has a point. It looks like I had a giant wart or mole burned off! AND it's at that stage where a loose thread or an unfortunate bump could knock that scab loose. 

I didn't want to get out the big gauze pad again. But I was reluctant to use a bandaid, because so many of them make my skin turn bright red and itch. Even that clear tape had given me the red itchies.

I took a chance. I know the brand name bandaids are not compatible with my tender skin. I have two boxes of grocery store bandaids on the kitchen counter. I had forgotten which brand worked for me. The Universe must have been on a break from making me miserable, because I chose the right one! I left it on for two days. It even went through a shower. And NOTHING HAPPENED. It was still stuck tight when I peeled it off. And my skin was perfectly normal underneath.

Tomorrow we'll look a the two bandaid brands...

Farmer H's Promises Are More Broken Than The Ceramic Tabby Cat On My Grandma's Coffee Table

Promises made, promises broken. That should be a plaque hanging over our front door. Once again, Farmer H has reneged on his promise to get repairs for T-Hoe. You'd almost think he's trying to kill me in a rolling deathtrap, with a withered hand that can barely grip the steering wheel.

For months (all summer, I think) T-Hoe's gas tank has been loathe to accept weekly gas from the Casey's pump. Any pump, really. Because there's some clogged filter thingy that won't let the gas tank breathe while gas is going in. T-Hoe regurgitates that gas after a few seconds of pumping. It takes a very slight compression of the pump handle, held steady, to force in gas for about 30 seconds. Then you have to let the gas soak down in again. And re-commence lightly pumping. It's such a lengthy production that The Pony was still pumping after I had walked into Casey's, bought scratchers, used their bathroom, and walked back out. I am not a fast walker.

Anyhoo... Farmer H had said he was getting an appointment with Mick the Mechanic. That he would sit and wait for T-Hoe to be done, so I wouldn't have to drive SilverRedO or A-Cad to pick him up.

That plan got postponed because Farmer H had to make a trip to Illinois for SUS2.5 merchandise. And also lunch with his buddy he took along for the ride.

The next week, Farmer H had to deal with the load of free kitchen stuff from the rich guy's remodel. Also, he had to re-do some things on a SIDE JOB he hadn't told me about.

When I pushed for a day when T-Hoe was going to get filtered, Farmer H sang a different tune.

"I don't know about Mick. I think I might just get an appointment and take it to the Chevy dealer over in Sis-Town. Mick said he didn't know how long it could take. He said maybe 4-5 hours."

I'm not sure that's the truth. Last time Farmer H backed out of the Mick appointment for the Illinois trip, he just said that Mick wasn't sure he could be done by 10:00 a.m. Of course I don't want to pay for 5 hours of mechanic labor, IF that's the actual truth. 

So far, Farmer H has made no appointment with the dealer. I told him I guessed he would just have to meet me in town once a week, so HE could be the one standing there for 15 minutes trying to put in half a tank of gas. He replied that he needed to make an appointment...

Can I Have NOTHING Of My Own???

I'm pretty sure we have visited this topic before. How I can't seem to have a single thing to myself in this Mansion. Whether it be food or scissors or Pioneer Woman Ceramic Paring Knives, or just empty space on a shelf in FRIG II. Nothing is safe from the invasion of Farmer H.

I think it was the day after Farmer H brought home a giant piece of coconut pineapple cake bestowed upon him by one of his adoring Harem at the senior apartments. A piece of cake so large that he divided it into four servings. 

Anyhoo... on the second day, when putting his cake plate back on the bottom shelf of FRIG II, Farmer H turned around and said excitedly,

"Do we have a new kind of little cakes?"

"NO. If you're talking about that box at the back of the bottom shelf, it's been there since before Christmas. It's my Little Debbie Mint Marshmallow Pies. [The Little Debbie version of Moon Pies. Marshmallow between two soft cookie-ish pieces, all coated in chocolate. These having mint flavor, as a Christmas novelty.] They are very stale, but I have one every now and then. They are MINE. You have plenty of other snacks. I buy them for you every time I go to the store. But now you want MINE! Six months old, stale, but that's what you want, because they're MINE!"

"No. No. If they're yours, that's fine. I just hadn't seen them before."

Yeah. There's a reason for that...

Let the record show that Farmer H currently had: 

Payday Mix (candy corn and dry-roasted peanuts)

Fudge Stripe Shortbread Cookies

Red Velvet Cake Chips Ahoy Cookies

Animal Cookies (regular)

Animal Cookies (the chocolate version)

Little Debbie Zebra Cakes

Little Debbie Star Crunch

Little Debbie Strawberry Rolls

Chocolate/Peanut Butter Fudge (from the Devil's Playground deli)

That Giant Piece of Coconut/Pineapple Cake

A virtual smorgasbord of desserts! Enough to kill any normal diabetic! But no. What was he interested in stealing sneaking treating himself to? MY MINI MINT MOON PIES!

I really need to wrap my meager treats in foil before stashing them at the back of FRIG II. My old teaching buddy Kelly kept a chocolate Easter bunny from her hubby for four months that way!

Crow-Eating, Egg-Faced Karen...Or Good Samaritan?

Thursday evening around 5:00, I heard Farmer H's phone ring. He carries it in a holster on his belt. I heard the velcro rrrip as he drew it to answer. I even turned off my music on HIPPIE, to try and see what it was about. His Harem, maybe, from the senior apartments? Or somebody wanting merchandise from his SUS2.5? But hopefully not one of the kids calling with a problem.

Farmer H had proceeded through the living room to the bathroom, to put away some medicine he had picked up at the pharmacy. I couldn't hear much, but the tone seemed to be one of denial, and not agreement. He came back to the kitchen, and began talking before I could even start my inquisition.

"That was our across-the-road neighbor. She said, 'I see your dog down here on the road by the mailboxes.' I told her, 'You don't see MY dog. He's got a shock collar, and hasn't left the property in four days. He's on the back porch right now. ' And she started sputtering, 'Oh. Do you know of anybody else out here with a white dog?' Heh, heh. I bet she feels like a rumpus right now."

"I told you, I'm not so sure Pepper was the one making her dogs bark at night. Especially since you saw that other dog in our yard around the same time, making OUR dogs bark at night. I mean, sure, I know Pepper goes over there. But without a picture, I'm not convinced it was him that night before their complaint."

"Well. I KNOW it's not Pepper down by the mailboxes. I'm going out to see. I ain't got no notice that he's out of the fence."

Farmer H stepped out the kitchen door and called to Pepper. Who came running, thinking there was another treat.

"See? She cain't blame Pepper this time."

"She DOES seem to be overly interested in OUR dogs. Trying to catch them at something, and point the finger at us on Facebook. Do you think she's being petty about it, or just trying to let us know? She told you she saw Scarlett and Jack all the way out by the highway that one time. It's hard to believe, but with Scarlett it was very possible. Maybe she just wants us to know, in case we might want to go "rescue" our dog. But if she really was such a dog lover, and sure it's ours, you'd think she would put him in her car at the mailbox, and drive him back up here."

"Nah. She's doin' it just to be a busybody, and make us look like we don't take care of our dogs."

"Too bad she couldn't put THIS one on Facebook, and ask if it belongs to anybody out here. Like she did with Pepper that first time she saw him. So you could have replied on there that Pepper is home with a shock collar."

"She didn't sound happy when I told her it wasn't Pepper. She sounded like she'd been caught doing something."

Later that evening, our dogs went crazy barking. Jack on the porch, and Pepper over in front of the BARn. Farmer H went to see if anybody was messing with his stuff. He said both Pepper and Jack were very interested in the $2000 white truck parked in front of the BARn. I said maybe somebody was trying to steal it. Farmer H said it was more likely an animal, because Pepper and Jack kept sniffing the tires.

Huh. Maybe it's some other dog running around. Maybe the one from the mailboxes. It could be that somebody dumped one. Or just one who lives out here, and is allowed to be a dog.

Pepper's Progress

Thank the Gummi Mary, Pepper seems to have suffered no ill effects from being run over by Farmer H and The Pony in SilverRedo on Monday. He's been his usual bouncy, energetic self since Wednesday. As for adjusting to the confines of the GPS collar, Pepper is learning quickly.

Tuesday, Pepper stayed pretty close to the Mansion. There were two attempts to go under the barbed wire fence that separates our property from the next door guy Farmer H went to high school with. Both times, Pepper turned back at the warning. 

This was at the very beginning of our driveway. I'm not surprised. There must be a rabbit trail there. All our dogs (Grizzly the lab/beagle, Tank the purebred beagle, Poor Dumb Ann the black German shepherd, and my Sweet, Sweet Juno the border collie/lab, and little dachshund/heeler Jack) have run under the fence there, and chased rabbits through the brush and across the road. Scarlett the adopted purebred Australian shepherd was not big on rabbit-chasing.

Anyhoo... when I came home from town on Tuesday afternoon, the team of Pepper/Jack jumped off the back of the carport and took to chasing another trail they have down into the woods behind the house. I think it's the scampering squirrels they're after there. This time, Jack went first. Pepper hesitated, then followed. While I was waiting for the garage door to raise, Pepper came back! Sat in front of me on the carport, looking dejected, ears down.

The Pony called, saying he got a notice on his phone that there was a breach. Yes! I got it on my phone as I went in the house. Pepper had crossed the boundary, and got a shock.

Wednesday, midmorning, there was another breach notice, following a notice that Pepper had turned back. This was way down by the creek, on the opposite end of our other 10 acres. The Pony also texted me about that one. I know why it happened. Farmer H's squirrel-hunting buddy was out here. I'm sure Pepper followed him down into the woods, and was going after a squirrel.

Thursday, there was one turn-back at the end of our driveway, where Pepper would cross over to go to the neighbors who complained about night visits making their penned dogs bark.

Farmer H goes to the part of the Halo 5 Collar app that tells how the dog is responding to training. For example, after the first day, including the multiple shocks just before Pepper got run over (!), it showed compliance (or whatever the term is) of 5%. On Thursday evening, it was 33%. I'm sure that will get better each time an incident happens where Pepper turns back at the warning.

Anyhoo... here are the kind of notifications we get, along with a time stamp.

FENCE BREACH AVOIDED

Pepper entered the warning zone and returned to the safe zone.

(On the map, the area is marked with a ! for turning back at the warning sound, and !! for turning back after the mild shock.)

FENCE BREACH DETECTED

Pepper left the fence.

(On the map, the area is marked with !!! for getting the full shock.)

RETURNED TO SAFETY

Pepper re-entered the fence.

(No marking on the map, since it is where the breach occurred.)

We can open the app on our phones any time, and see the map. It will show the latest five fence breaches/avoidances, and the current location of Pepper.

Every evening, Farmer H takes off Pepper's collar to charge it for 1 hour. It supposedly will last for 48 hours, but we're not sure how accurate that is. Thus the daily routine, rather than doing it every 36 hours and alternating morning and evening.

After a bumpy start, this Halo 5 Collar seems to be serving our purposes.

OH NO! This Has Gone Horribly Wrong!!! (Part 2)

The dog trainers, Farmer H and The Pony, had left for town ten minutes earlier, when I heard the kitchen door open. I went to the kitchen, and found an upset Pony.

"We were watching to see if Pepper chased the truck when we left. He was running along on our grass, but still in the boundary. I could tell he wasn't going to stop at the end, so on my phone I started manually giving him the warning sound. Pepper didn't react. He got shocked when he crossed the boundary, and WENT UNDER THE TRUCK! We ran over him! Dad stopped and put him in the back of the truck, and I got in and rode back to the house with him. We can't SEE anything wrong, except he's limping a little bit on his front left leg."

Farmer H came in next.

"Did you run over Pepper? Or did he just go under the truck, and the wheels missed him?"

"No. We definitely felt a big bump."

"But it was the back tires, Mom. So not all the weight from the motor."

"It's a freakin' TRUCK! He might have internal injuries, or a concussion!"

"I'll take him to the vet tomorrow if he's hurt. He looks okay. I pressed all around on his ribs and back, and he didn't yelp or nothin'."

"He probably has a concussion, and can't think! He's in shock, and doesn't know he's hurt."

"He yelped when the shock hit him, Mom. It kept shocking him when he didn't turn back. It was terrible. I shut it off manually on my phone. I think he went under the truck trying to get to Dad, because he thinks Dad will make the shocks stop."

My theory is that Pepper was running full speed beside the truck, and the shocks made him lose control, like when a person gets tased, and his momentum made him tumble under the truck.

While Farmer H drove The Pony to town, I called for Pepper, who was under the carport in a hole he likes to lie in. He came to the kitchen, and CAME IN, which he hasn't done since he was a pup. Walked in and stood by the table, his back to me at the door. I sweet-talked him and he finally turned around. He looked droopy and sad, with a slight limp on the left front leg.

I finally coaxed Pepper back out on the porch with a piece of stale bun dipped in bacon grease. He sniffed it, but wouldn't eat. He slunk into Juno's old house right by the door, and wouldn't come out all night.

Tuesday morning at 5:45, Pepper came to the laundry room door where Farmer H feeds him. He walked into the laundry room, and sat in front of the washer, wagging his tail. Then went back out when commanded, and ate some food.

When I left for town that afternoon, Pepper was his usual peppy self. Romping and waiting for his treat, ears up, curious. I think he's probably stressed from the ordeal, and seeking safety in the house, remembering puppyhood when he got to come in every morning for petting.

Right now, Pepper is staying close to the Mansion. 

OH NO! This Has Gone HORRIBLY Wrong!!! (Part 1)

On my way to pick up The Pony on Monday, for Pepper's collar training, I was quite dismayed to see Pepper running along behind T-Hoe. He usually goes halfway up the driveway with me, running in the grass where I can see him. That has only been going on for about two weeks. I honk the horn, or put down the window and say "PEPPER! NO!" Then Pepper stops.

This time, Pepper continued. No amount of stopping or NO-ing had an affect. In fact, Pepper gave me a look like, "What are you going to do about it?" Something I didn't want to see, but normal for an animal to try and figure out limits. I told The Pony this tale, and said, "I know this is wrong, but a part of me will not be upset for Pepper to get a little shock. He was being so INSOLENT! He needs to learn the consequences."

Indeed, the Halo 5 Collar could not have arrived at a better time. Farmer H said that a few days ago, he was over in the BARn field, and he saw Pepper chase a UPS truck along the gravel road. Farmer H hollered at him, and when he came back, Farmer H held him by the collar, and "whipped his butt." Just with a hand, of course, a couple swats on the hip.

"He didn't like that at all! He tried to run away, and pulled too hard against the collar, and started coughing and choking.

"He doesn't know what he did wrong! Because got his whoopin' when he CAME BACK. He probably doesn't associate it with chasing the truck."

 "It's a good thing The Pony's getting the new collar ready, because we can't have him chasing cars."

AND when Farmer H and HOS left here on Sunday evening, after dropping off some stuff at the Freight Container Garage, Pepper chased them down the road, almost to the mailboxes. That's a mile!

"He wouldn't go back when we hollered at him. Usually he won't go no farther than the neighbor at the top of the hill. We finally got out and threw rocks at him, and he started back."

Obviously, this was the right time to get Pepper trained, since his roaming behavior was escalating. The Pony watched the training videos. Showed Farmer H right here in the kitchen. They went out with the collar and a baggie of cut-up hot dogs for treats. They were gone about 45 minutes, walking Pepper around the front yard/field and adjacent 10 acres. Showing the boundaries along the front and sides. Pepper got the warning sound when close. Then a small shock. Then the Level 6 (out of 15) shock when he kept going and wouldn't turn back.

"He twitched when it hit him. Let out a yelp. Then laid down and pawed at the collar with his front paws. He didn't like that much. He definitely felt it."

That shocking episode happened when they let Pepper off the leash, and came back for the lawnmower. Farmer H rode it along the BARn field, to see if Pepper would chase. He wasn't chasing, but ran across the road to the hill neighbor's field. That's when he got zapped, and came back.

None of us expected Pepper to be completely trained by this single session. He would have to learn some on his own, while unsupervised. And Farmer H could work with him some more in the evenings. He and The Pony said they thought Pepper was associating the hot dog treat with getting shocked, because toward the end, he wouldn't eat them.

Around 4:50, Farmer H left in SilverRedO to take The Pony home. They were curious if Pepper would try to chase them. I went on about my business. At 5:00, I was in the bathroom, and heard the kitchen door open. That couldn't be good! They should have been in town by then.

It was worse than I expected...