A Holiday Supper

Ever since Hick brought home the new menu for June, I had been looking forward to the July 3rd lunch at the Senior Center. That's a whole month! I was kind of excited, but not quite to the Reuben Sandwich level. I have been mentioning weekly that I wanted that lunch for supper.

BBQ Pork Steaks

Potato Salad

Mac & Cheese

Red, White, Blue Cake OR Fruit

Doesn't that sound good? Hick said he'd make sure to get it ordered, to have it ready for take-out when he was done eating his meal there. In fact, he also ordered one for himself. No cooking for me! He brought the two meals home and put them in FRIG II, still tied up in the white plastic bags with eleventy-billion knots at the top. 

As I was getting ready for town, I rescued those meals from their bondage, to see how they looked. Let's just say it was not what I expected.

See what I mean? It also had green beans. Heh, heh! That's not at all what I mean. Perhaps you recall other pictures of Thevictorians feasting on BBQ pork steaks. The Flintstone-sized version. This is about 1/5 the size of a regular pork steak. Not that I expected the Senior Center to serve up such gargantual proportions. I realize that most elderlies (and most normal people) don't feed like Thevictorians at the trough. I was just surprised by the size. It's smaller than a pork chop.

Anyhoo... the sides were generous. The best was the mac & cheese, though I hardly ever eat it, and am used to it being more of a cheddar or Velveeta cheese than whatever white cheese this was. I did not like the potato salad. It was too sweet. What can they put in there to make potato salad sweet? Maybe it was relish. Maybe Miracle Whip. Not a fan. It was typical storebought potato salad. I did manage to finish the entire serving... I did not like the beans. They were wax beans. Again, they had a sweet taste. I even tried some salt, and adding some crispy fried onions on top. Not a fan.

The cake looked good, though it was not red, white, nor blue. Looked like the standard storebought cake. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I don't imagine the cooks at the Senior Center to be up before dawn, wearing puffy white chef hats, making a cake from scratch to feed a hundred or more people. I can't give a description of the taste, because I don't eat the desserts. I give them to Hick.

When Hick looked at the meals, he was also surprised.

"When I got there, I saw them making some hamburgers. So I ordered ours right away, to make sure they didn't run out and give us hamburgers. In fact, they was also cuttin' up pork steaks. Like making smaller portions. I guess they had a lot of call-in orders. We had a different cake. It was white, with colored sprinkles on the icing."

Still, it was a meal I didn't have to cook. The pork steak was nice, after I warmed it in the oven and got a nice glaze on the sauce. I put mine on a bun, with some shredded lettuce, pickle, and onion. I would have it again, but without such anticipation. And next time, I'd give Hick the potato salad and wax beans, as well as the dessert.

We will be doing our own grilling on Sunday, when The Pony comes to join us.

There's a Fine Line Between Do-Gooderism and Gladys Kravitz Busybodyness

The day after Hick rescued the old lady, Wallet Man came up to him in the lunchroom and said, "We really appreciate all the things you do. Even things most people don't know about." Which was a nice VALidation for Hick. He was pleased.

Two days later, Hick was up to his Do-Gooding again. Wednesday evening, he said:

"There's this old man who usually eats lunch at the Senior Center. He don't live there, but he's there most days. I ain't seen him for about a week. And the last time I saw him, he didn't look too good. I'm kinda worried about him. I know he's in the VFW with The Veteran. So I called to ask him about the guy.

The Veteran said he'd check. Everyone he asked said they hadn't seen the guy, and that he'd missed several VFW events recently that he normally goes to. The Veteran was able to get Old Man's address and phone number from the VFW. He tried to call, but there was no answer. He said he'd go by his apartment, and if nobody was there, he'd call the police for a welfare check.

When he got there, the Old Man came to the door. He said he'd been in the hospital."

"I don't want to say GOOD, because he's been in the hospital. But it IS kind of good news, considering how it could have turned out."

"Yeah. I'm glad the Old Man is okay."

I hate to think that it took a WHOLE WEEK for people to be concerned. But you can't just go jumping to conclusions every time somebody changes their routine. Though the "how to murder your wife" shows I've been watching lately say otherwise...

The Audacity of the White Truck Guy Rumpushole

I may not have been keeping you updated on White Truck Guy, who regularly parks in the lone handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store. It's not because he has quit doing so. Even though I've been going to town later and later, I still encounter him in my rightful handicap space a couple times a week. Only now he's Red Truck Guy. Several months ago he traded vehicles. 

Anyhoo... there he was again at 5:30 on Tuesday evening. I pulled in behind his running red truck. Didn't look like he was inside. With the heat index near 100, I didn't feel like sitting there with T-Hoe running, nor walking the extra distance to the door. You never know if White Truck Guy is about to come out and leave, or sit in his truck a while, or stay inside for 20 minutes. So I left to go about my other business of getting scratchers at Casey's.

I can see that parking spot from Casey's. It's just over the moat beside Hick's pharmacy, which sits between the two convenience stores. You know that I was in Casey's for a while. Everyone here, and cameras from space, can verify that Val is a slow mover. I figured this was another of White Truck Guy's lengthy visits, so I drove up town to mail some bills. Being careful to avoid that street beside the giant sinkhole, because The Pony asked me to way back when it was even smaller.

Anyhoo... by the time I got back to the Gas Station Chicken Store, White Truck Guy's red truck was gone from the handicap space. I parked and started in.

Well, I'll be ding-dang-donged! The red truck was now sitting under the roof, parked at the gas pump closest to the door. He has done this before. I suppose he checks his tickets, then goes back inside. My favorite cashier has said that Man Owner has asked him not to block the gas pumps, but he continues. 

As I got closer to the door, out came WHITE TRUCK GUY! I'd know him anywhere. He glanced over at me, and HELD THE DOOR OPEN.

That's not fair! That's dirty pool! What a low-life thing to do, hold open the door for the grouchy hobbling old lady who despises him for parking in her rightful handicap space! Of course I had to tell him "Thank you" as I went in.

Pardon me for being cynical, but it's another case of the actions not belying the sentiment, which I experienced with another handicap parking space usurper last week, and shamed on my supersecret blog. White Truck Guy will hold the door open to help me, yet he cannot keep his truck out of the handicap parking space to help me. 

Sorry that I can't pretend I honestly appreciated his door-holding olive branch.

Val's Efforts to Be a Do-Gooder Are Thwarted by a Johnny on the Spot

I was in line at 10Box on Monday, behind a guy who was only buying a quart of ice cream. Or however much ice cream you get these days in that oval container. He was paying with cash, and came up short. According to the Young Guy Cashier, he needed 48 cents, after counting up three bills and coins.

I was reaching into my shirt pocket to pull out a dollar when another man walked across the end of the conveyor. "Hey, buddy. I gotcha." He counted out change and put it on the conveyor next to Ice Cream Guy's pile of cash.

"Thanks a lot! I'll look you up later and pay you back," said Ice Cream Guy as the donator proceeded into the store. "He's my neighbor."

Ice Cream Guy was quite talkative. He started telling a story of how he got in trouble for not showing up to court for resisting arrest and getting tased and it taking him two weeks to be able to walk again. How he hadn't even got notice that he was supposed to appear in court. How he'd gone to the courthouse to see if he had any charges, and they told him he had missed his court date and they'd sent him a letter. But the letter went to (another) neighbor's house, who refused it, and sent it back. 

Young Guy Cashier was counting up the money, so Ice Cream Guy had turned to me to tell his story. I'd already heard part of it on the chip aisle, when he was on the other side, telling an old man looking for peanuts that he had a 2.4 million dollar lawsuit against the cops, but he couldn't afford a lawyer.

I knew that old man was looking for peanuts, because he had his cart in the middle of the chip aisle, and apologized to me before rounding the corner. I don't think he knew Ice Cream Guy. I wondered why Ice Cream Guy didn't just get a lawyer that only takes part of the settlement if he wins. I didn't ask about it, because, you know, I really didn't want to engage.

After Ice Cream Man left, without even putting his ice cream in a bag, I told Young Guy Cashier, "I was ready to give him a dollar when that other guy showed up. Then you wouldn't have had to count all that change."

"Oh, I don't mind counting the change. It's just part of the job."

And here came Ice Cream Man back into the store! Saying, "I forgot I have $15 on my card!"

Not sure what he came back to get. But if he was short a few cents, I would still have given him the dollar. It's the thought that counts.

Hick To the Rescue. Again.

I got a late start to town on Saturday. Hick was already home from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), reclining in his recliner, bemoaning the heat. I was almost to the lettered county blacktop highway when I got a call from Hick. That was unusual. He knew I had just left for town. It was 5:30. 

"I just got a call from the apartments. Old Gal fell, and she can't get up. Her daughter can't get in the door, so she called for me to come unlock it. I'm leaving now."

Of course I hoped Old Gal was okay. It's never good when an elderly takes a tumble. It's also good that Hick was only sipping on a Diet Mountain Dew at the time, and could drive 20 minutes to town to take care of this incident. Seems like being 'on call' 24/7/365 should be worth more than 'less than $300 a month,' heh, heh!

Anyhoo... supper was delayed. Hick got home around 7:00. He said he and the daughter couldn't get Old Gal up, so they called the EMTs, who did it with no problem. They asked if she wanted to go to the hospital and get checked out. She asked her daughter, who said, "I don't think so. You just took your sleeping pill and fell down because you weren't using your cane. You're probably okay."

Hick said that yes, she seemed a little confused and was slurring some words, because of the sleeping pill. Her daughter says that's how it makes her react. She said her hip was hurting a little, but she was able to walk on it. They just put her back to bed. 

"What kind of floor is it?"

"It's tile for the bathroom, and carpet for the bedroom. She was kind of half on each. She got up for the bathroom, and fell on the way."

"Did she pee herself?"

"No. She tried to get in the bathroom and pull herself up, but she couldn't."

"Did they let her pee before putting her back to bed?"

"No."

"Well, that's not a good thing! I hope you don't have to go back."

"I gave her daughter a key. I think I'm going to put a drop box in there. So the fire department can get access to the keys when they need to get in and help somebody."

"Heh, heh! So you're just going to make sure somebody ELSE is on call for these things."

"Yeah, pretty much."

That Hick is such a helper. Though I would probably lie here for half a day or more if I took a tumble while he was in town...

Hick Did the Work of Five Men

Hick was practially chortling (though not evil-ish, like The Universe) when he told me a tale on Saturday evening.

"Remember my guy, Dude, who used to work for me at the plant? He came in today. He quit there a while ago. But he said right after I left, everything was going wrong. After about three months, they started going back to the way I did things. He said they had five people doing all the work I used to do. I knew that plant couldn't run with how they was doing things."

Let the record show that when Hick was set to retire, management begged him to stay on. Gave him a sweet deal to work 20 hours a week, with full insurance and benefits. Hick was fine with that, until some restructuring that gave him a "boss." He compared this boss to a used-car salesman. Said he was all about making people think how great he was at his job, while doing next to nothing. We know Hick is not the best at taking orders, but he DOES know what he's doing. It was this change, and a switch to some kind of management system (Lean Manufacturing), that made Hick slam the door shut on his "partial" retirement.

Hick and two others built that company from the ground up. They were advised by the "Big Guy" on the east coast to answer a blind ad. In fact, they were threatened with a lawsuit for giving up "trade secrets" in the butcher-saw-blade-making industry when they left their former employer. Under the "Big Guy's" funding, they took an empty building and turned it into a new factory, then expanded to a bigger building.

Hick was sent to several other countries to advise them on their manufacturing techniques, and was in charge of buying millions of dollars worth of machines, and seeing that they were safely shipped. He went to Germany, Wales, France, Sweden, Brazil, and New Jersey (heh, heh!). Hick said Brazil was the most scary/dangerous. They had to be accompanied by security when they left the hotel, lest they be kidnapped, robbed, or arrested.

He brought home several workers who were joining their company, who were "in town" for training. Hick didn't want them sitting around a motel room for a weekend. The guy from Colombia bought a used car from us. The guy from China loved riding the 4-wheeler, shooting a gun, and told Hick, "You are a very rich man. Rich in property, and rich to have four sons." He was expecting a baby daughter at the time. He wanted Hick to take a picture of him holding a 9mm pistol, but told Hick that his wife must never see it. Then there were the guys from Germany who Hick took to eat at a local catfish restaurant, only to find out one was allergic to fish!

Hick was on equal footing with the plant manager and the office manager, his title being Manager of Facility Maintenance. The three of them ran that place, making decisions about operations and hiring. Until they got old and new people were brought in to eventually take over. That was the start of the decline.

It was nice to see Hick so happy at being VALidated.

Still a Couple of Loose Ends for Wrapping

It's been almost three weeks since the closing on the Double Hovel flip house(s). Life is pretty much back to normal without the responsibility of this constant companion we had for a little over two years.

My stalking is being curtailed, what with street closures due to the installation of a roundabout on the main route that takes me to the bank, Pony House, and past the Double Hovel. My last memory, from Thursday, is that the new resident really needs to mow his yard!

Hick came in Friday afternoon with the mail. "Looks like just junk mail," he said, handing me a single envelope. I tended to agree, but I open all the mail, junk or not, to make sure.

Looks pretty junky, right? Like those companies wanting to insure our water line out to the street (even though we have a well and no street), and the out-of-state companies who would be delighted to buy (at a tenth of the market value) our property, if we only sign the bottom of their offer.

Good thing I opened it! That envelope contained a refund check for the balance left on the Double Hovel's insurance policy. Let the record show that this is not the name of the insurance company on our policy, nor the big-name insurance company that we got it through. Who knew? Better open up that "junk mail" if you recently sold a Double Hovel!

Here's another thing. We are due a refund from the city water department for the Double Hovel. At closing, the closer went over documents, noting a deduction for the water bill, giving the buyer credit for the past month. It was done by the title company, making sure there were no outstanding debts on the property. Well. The checks had already been sent for those payments. Checks were mailed on the 3rd. Closing was on the 9th. Payment due on the 15th.  Not our fault that the city is not prompt in processing payments. Hick thinks it's odd that they didn't do the same with the electric bills, for which we got a final statement, and paid as normal.

Hick thinks the city will probably give us a credit for that amount, on the next water bill for Bargain House. I think they're going to keep the money and plead ignorance if confronted. My other prediction is that the city will give the NEW OWNER credit for that double payment on HIS next bill(s).

We'll see what develops. It's not a large amount. It's the principle. Hick will go to city hall to talk to them about it, if we don't get a refund or a credit when the Bargain House water bill arrives, which should be any day now.