Val Refuses to Give in to Temptation

While I was in line at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Thursday, I saw a red truck park over by the moat. Imagine my surprise when the handicap-parking-space-usurper got out and started towards the store. What in the Not-Heaven? Does he have different vehicles to use for parking closer to the door? Or did he get a new red truck instead of the White Ford 250?

I pondered this curious event while smugly congratulating myself on having already parked T-Hoe in our rightful handicap space. Mr. White F-250 went around the aisle to get himself a fountain soda. The other four of us in line made our transactions. I hobbled back to T-Hoe, and wrote on the back of my scratchers so I would know where I bought them. While doing that, I observed Mr. White F-250 get back into his red truck.

I had belted myself, and was moving forward to exit the parking lot when I had to jam on the brakes. You'll never guess who was walking across the lot, back to the store. Okay. Yes, you will. It was Mr. White F-250. I guess he was going back for more tickets. Of course he couldn't wait until I drove past, but had to traipse directly in front of T-Hoe and make me stop.

As much as that annoyed the bejeebers out of me, I could not proceed and run over him. I guess there's a little bit of good in me somewhere.

Hick Holds On

Hick was excited to tell me the events of his meeting with the people who run the city. In fact, he stopped me on our gravel road as I was heading to town.

"I'd like to hear about it, but I AM trying to get through traffic before the schools let out, and to the bank before it closes..."

"Oh. I can tell you when you get back. So far, I still have the job!"

Hick said he tried to be polite when he started.

"I know that I say things sometimes that might offend people. That's not my intention. I see what needs to be done, and I try to fix it. If that hurts somebody's feelings, I'm sorry. I want to make this building as safe for the people as I can. There are things that haven't been done that need doing... 

Then the one guy in charge of the council told me I needed to get a business license. He asked me if I was an LLC, and I said no. 'The city won't sell me a business license unless I get insurance, and I'm not going to do that. The city has insurance. I don't mind paying $40 for a license to do business. I'll get that back. But I'm not buying insurance. If that's going to be an issue, then I'm done right now. There's no point.' The guy said well, I might get hurt, so I need insurance. Then a lady said the old guy didn't have insurance. I told him the city is responsible for ANYBODY that gets hurt in that building, whether it's me, or an old person who lives there, or somebody coming in for lunch. That's just how it is, and I'm not buying insurance. Then some other people spoke up, and agreed that I shouldn't have to buy insurance to work there.

I told them about how I've already talked to the fire chief about the alarm system, and where somebody has cut off the connector where the fire department could plug in their big hose. He told me to document everything, so we know what needs work. The whole thing is run down the middle of the hall, when it should go into each apartment.

I asked why we weren't using HUD to rent out the apartments, and they said that's only for individuals, not for commercial, but I disagreed. And I said it looked like at one time the city had applied for a grant to fix up the building. But then they said no, that was about using HUD, and they were denied. But a couple others seemed to remember something about it, and also questioned it. I said I welcome the building inspector to come look at any work I do, but I probably know more about it than he does.

Anyway, there was a lot of people who seemed to agree with me, and only two who seemed to disagree with what I was saying. They tried to say they've been working on fixing up the building for a long time, but it's clear that nothing has been done for years."

"That's good that most of them understand what you're trying to do. I'm starting to think that the ones who don't are afraid you're too smart for them. That they are suspicious that you're trying to point the finger and get the city in trouble for not being in compliance with some things. Not saying that they're crooked, or using money for something else. Just that they're used to having things their way, and it's easier to hire some kind of janitor guy to collect the rent, and not really do big repairs to fix up the building. I don't know why else they would try to make you do something the other guy didn't have to do, like get insurance." 

"Yeah. I don't know what's going on with them two. But I said I was only going to communicate through my direct boss, and not be telling anybody else anything except at the meetings. So then I can't be offending people with what I say."

That might be the smartest decision Hick has made. It's not like he's getting rich by working there. It pays less than $100 a week. There are no set hours, and he's on call in case something goes wrong. Still, I think Hick is worth less than $100 a week!

We'll See If Hick Can Hold a Job

Hick was having his first meeting with the city on Tuesday, as part of his duties of running the apartments for the elderlies.

"I heard from one of my buddies that the mayor was insulted by me asking her those questions at lunch the other day."

"I TOLD YOU you shouldn't have done that! They're gonna fire you! And I won't care at all."

"They might. But she ASKED me to tell her if there's anything she can do to help. That's all I told her. I even asked my friend who works there, the one who brought me over to meet her. 'Did I say anything to the mayor that might have offended her that day you introduced us?' And she said no, that the mayor was really happy during our lunch meeting."

"Well, that's what I hate about people who are supposed to be important and in charge. They're two-faced. They act like everything is just fine, then they trash you when you're not around."

"It seems that way. I'm gonna tell 'em at my meeting, 'If somebody doesn't want me working here, that's fine with me. I'll quit. I'm not somebody who'll keep my mouth shut if I'm asked questions. I want to make things the best I can for these people, and if you don't like my answers or questions, then I don't have to work here. You can get someone else.'"

"I'm not sure if you should do that, but you don't HAVE to work there. If they keep trashing you, just quit. They can get a yes-man who lets it fall apart, but makes them feel important."

"We'll see how it goes..."

Hick spent many years being a supervisor in his butcher-saw-making factory. He is not thin-skinned when it comes to people's opinion of him. Not everybody loved Hick and his way of doing things. They did, however, respect his skills. Heh, heh... maybe all the times they sent him to their factories in Germany and Wales and Brazil and Sweden and New Jersey, it was just to get rid of him for a couple of weeks!

Kind of a Jack-Rumpus, But Not

As I parked T-Hoe in my rightful handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Monday, I saw a regular at the diesel pumps. Hick knows him. He drives a white dump truck. He's there every afternoon for gas, though we don't always cross paths. His wife just retired from the post office. She gave The Pony a uniform item when he first started working, before he got a uniform allowance. She was always nice to The Pony.

Anyhoo... Regular got back in his dump truck when he was done pumping gas, and backed it up to an area beside the moat, so the pumps were available to other customers. As I was starting inside, I heard Regular talking on his phone as he crossed the lot.

Once I got inside, I heard Regular telling the cashier, "Ain't nobody want to hear your conversation. Set it down and wait." He proceeded to pay for his gas, get his tickets for the FREE GAS weekly drawing, then left.

Here's the thing. I appreciate regular stopping his phone conversation while he was inside the store paying for his gas. So many customers keep that phone to their ear, talking, while the cashier is trying to explain to them how to use their card in that scanner on a wire. It takes extra time. Not pleasant in a small space with several people waiting.

Still, there is no reason that Regular could not have finished his conversation before going into the store. He could have sat in his truck. Stood beside his truck. Just told his wife (I presume) to call him back, or that he would call back. I sometimes call Hick at the end of the day, to see how close he is to home, to plan on whether he can carry groceries, or when I should start supper. I always start with, "Can you talk?" Because he might be in a convenience store getting a Diet Mountain Dew, or he might be driving, or buying materials to work on the flip house.

While I applaud Regular for not talking on his phone during his transaction, he really should have dealt with the situation before going inside, and acting like his wife was to blame.

In the Country, You Can Wait for Help, or Take Matters into Your Own Feet

On Thursday, the windy, windy day, I encountered traffic on our gravel road while leaving our enclave. It was a bright blue truck I've seen out here before. Not on our road, but the other road that goes to the back entrance. I waited for him to pass, then pulled out behind him. I don't like to delay people who might be in more of a hurry.

We proceeded along the creek, Blue Truck going just a little faster than T-Hoe. We both got on the country blacktop road to town. Blue Truck got ahead of me a bit more. I could see him crossing the low water bridge, then going up over the hill. The road has several dips and hills after that. I thought nothing of it until I saw Blue Truck parked in the road a couple hills ahead. What in the Not-Heaven?

As I got closer, I saw that Blue Truck had its flashers flashing. The driver, a guy in his late 30s, had walked back behind it, in the oncoming lane, where a tree branch lay 3/4 of the way across the road. The branch was the thickness of a man's arm, with little branches branching off of it. It was obviously a dead limb that had been blown off the tree.

T-Hoe would have had no trouble going over that dead branch, at a slow speed, just like Blue Truck had no problem. However, cars coming up on it would be likely to swerve, or come to a sudden stop. Not good for other drivers who might be near them. In fact, a white sedan came around the curve as I was waiting a good distance back from Blue Truck. It stopped beside that truck.

Blue Truck Guy stomped on that dead branch, breaking it into smaller pieces, then heaving them off the side of the road into the ditch. Once the road was clear, he jogged back to his truck and got in. The whole process took about three minutes. If he hadn't done that, the limb would probably still be there until a county road crew discovered it and dealt with it.

It took a week for the county road crew to put blacktop over the concrete of the low water bridge, where water had washed away two previous layers of blacktop in the recent flood. It had been like driving T-Hoe up two steps 8 inches high. Too bad Hick and his old friend Buddy didn't have any spare blacktop...

Risk VS Reward, I Suppose

Val is playing the same old broken record, turned up to maximum volume today. I cannot believe the number of people who park illegally in handicap spaces. I guess they figure there is little chance of getting a ticket and a fine. The police have more pressing matters. If they don't pursue the drive-off gas thieves, they're not going to worry about a ne'er-do-well parking in a handicap space without a placard or license plate entitling them to do so. It seems to have become the rule, rather than the exception. In just two days, four people prevented Val from parking in her rightful handicap space.

On Friday, the regular bad-doer in the white Ford F250 pickup truck was once again in the handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store. This happens 3-4 times a week, that I know of! I'm sure he's there every day, but I am lucky enough to arrive at a different time. This was during maximum windage. I pulled into the space behind, by the FREE AIR hose, and waited. That guy came out after five minutes, and actually moved his truck over by the moat. Then went back inside. In fact, he was swifter than I, and beat me to the register. He was buying draw tickets with specific numbers. I suppose he had been checking scratcher tickets, then went back for more on a later drawing.

Over at 10Box, three spaces in front of the store had been taken up with a display of spring planting items on wooden pallets. Also, the clouds were dark, and a few sprinkles were falling. Not sure which reason prompted a middle-aged woman to park in a handicap space. No placard, no plate, no visible sign of impairment. Just entitled, I suppose. She came out and was getting in her car as I gimped inside.

On Saturday, I pulled onto the Gas Station Chicken Store lot as the car in front of me parked at the side of the building, with the two left tires over the line of the lone handicap space. Not only was this idiot blocking the handicap space, but also the driving lane! She was in her 40s, a bit ample in the rumpus, but walking just fine, at a regular pace. She even looked at me, stopped behind her, holding my hands up like "WTF, lady?" No shame in that one. She continued toward the door, while I went around her on the other side of the diesel pumps.

I took the alley over the moat, to Casey's. Where I discovered a white sedan parked in the lone handicap space. No plate, no placard. An elderly woman was sitting in the passenger seat. No driver. I had to park to the right of it, by the dumpster. I didn't see anyone inside that might have belonged to that car. Only one person in line, who didn't get in that car. I came out and initialed my scratchers, and still only the elderly white-haired woman was in it. Maybe the driver was waiting for a pizza. Not really a reason to take up that handicap space on a bright sunny 65-degree afternoon.

Is it wrong that I feel like ramming those cars, and going all Kathy Bates on them, yelling "I'm older, and I have more insurance!"

It Blew Nobody Any Good

There was an ill wind on Thursday, my errand day. It was preceded by a black sky and downpour around noon. I felt sad for The Pony. At least the rain stopped within an hour. The wind continued to increase. I didn't look up the wind speed. That would have been too depressing, and might have discouraged me from heading to town! I will say that when I felt the effects, that wind seemed to gust stronger than the day it was 50 mph.

I survived my walk from the gas pumps into Casey's. As always on windy days, I parked so the wind would blow T-Hoe's large and heavy door open, and not slam it to amputate my legs as I tried to get in and out. At Country Mart, I had to park so far down the line of six handicap spaces that I just entered through the pharmacy door, and walked the length of that place to get a cart. 

The bank was my main problem. Still no drive-thru service. I figured that once I got in front of the building, I'd be fine, with the wind slowed by the brick structure. I was almost toppled in the five steps from T-Hoe to the ramp with handrails. I hung on to a rail with my left hand, while holding down my flapping shirt with my right. Nobody needs to see THAT indecent exposure. The Pony said I was on the verge of doing a Marilyn Monroe.

Speaking of The Pony, the wind was not kind to mailpeople either. And yet The Pony had sympathy for the city workers.

"I felt sorry for the street workers, or whoever was in charge of pouring concrete. They had just completed a patch, and had orange cones up around it to keep people from walking there. But the wind had blown two of the orange cones into the fresh concrete! It wasn't completely soft, but it wasn't yet solid. The cones were just barely too far for me to reach them, or I would have pulled them out. They had made lines where they scooted across. I was afraid if I tried, the wind would hit me and push me into the fresh concrete!"

Yeah. Nobody needs a Pony trapped in a sidewalk. The thought of a good deed will have to suffice.

A Genderational Study at the Supermarket

Funny how different generations approach everyday activities.  I mean funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha.

As I was heading to the checkout on Thursday in Country Mart, a young guy passed me. Nothing wrong with that. I was pushing my cart with three six-packs of Diet Mountain Dew for Hick, and a jar of dill pickle spears, some Caesar Dressing and Blue Cheese Dressing, and some chicken tenders from the deli. Not a lot. Everything but the soda fit in the child seat. Still, I don't blame Young Guy for passing me on the right as I wheeled my cart/walker along the front aisle.

Young Guy had no cart. He carried two cans of energy drink, and two bags of chips, in his bare hands. I'm not snack-shaming him. Maybe he was working the evening shift, and picking up his supper and "lunch." Maybe he had a friend waiting. He looked like a fit, hard-working guy around the late 20s.

As we approached the register, two high school girls peeked around the end of the snack aisle at us. Then they RAN to the register, to be sure to get ahead of us. They each carried a couple of snacks and a drink.

Again, no shade on those gals. First come, first served. But I would never run to get ahead of someone in line, even if my knees were willing. It's a generational thing. We elderlies will wait our turn in line, much like cud-chewing heifers, ruminating on our past. We might even (GASP) motion somebody to go ahead of us. That's how we were raised.

I don't know who is raising this younger generation! I never brought up my boys to act like that. You wait your turn, and offer others your place in line if you are not in a hurry, and they have less.

Young Guy was ahead of me, right after those gals. Here's another interesting behavior. 

MEN do not know how to go through a grocery line!

Young Guy put his drinks and chips on the conveyor. The cashier rang them up and bagged them, setting them at the end of the counter. Young Guy just stood there. Across from the cashier. He was paying cash, and did NOT move down toward the card-scanner. He was holding up the line. I couldn't get my stuff on the conveyor unless I rear-ended Young Guy with my cart pushing his butt. It's always MEN who do this! They can't proceed to the end to pick up their groceries. Or bag them at the end like in 10Box. They feel the need to hang out by the cashier, holding up the line.

Women don't do that! Women are gatherers. They go to the end so they can pick up their groceries or put them in bags. Men are hunters. They stand there handing over their cash. Delaying their trip to pick up the groceries. Like they are putting a foot on their conquest, waiting to be admired.

The guy behind me, of my generation, calmly waited his turn. Kudos for that. But I have a feeling he would also have blocked the line, standing there by the cashier, rather than moving down to the end before she asked for his payment.

Another Lost Skill

Do schools even offer driver's education classes any more? I don't think so. Genius and The Pony did not have that option, but then again, Newmentia was a small school. Back in my VALEDICTORIAN days, my high school offered driver's education. I took it the summer after my sophomore year. You could get a discount on insurance if the teenager had taken (and passed, I assume) a driver's education class.

Of course the teacher was always a coach looking to make extra money over the summer. As I remember, we had instruction in a classroom, and then days when we actually drove. My group had three students. The instructor sat in the passenger seat, where he had his own steering wheel and brake. I don't remember using seatbelts. It was not a law back then. I DO remember sometimes clenching my fists and hoping not to die, as one of my fellow driving students made bonehead mistakes while operating that car.

When I got my first car, a Chevy Vega, the seatbelt had to be fastened while driving, or a chime would sound continuously. My peers thought they were quite funny when asking, "Are you afraid you'll fall out of the car?" in response to seeing me wearing a seatbelt. It could be fastend behind me, but driving while sitting on the fastened seatbelt was not comfortable, because the latch thingy poked into my not-yet-ample rumpus.

Anyhoo... Genius and The Pony were instructed by Hick. I didn't have the nerves for it, having given it a go with Genius, who was quite confident, having been a driver since 10 years old when Hick let him drive a Toyota around the property, with The Pony as a back-seat passenger!

Anyhoo... we made sure the boys had practice in parking. Which people these days DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO!

Can you see the yellow line? Oh, maybe not. Because it is UNDER THE CAR! This is why I have to cheat over with T-Hoe, and leave plenty of room for the door to open when I want to get back in. This guy backed into a space at the Backroads Casey's, right next to T-Hoe in the handicap space, even though there was nobody else on the lot. Six or eight other spaces could have been used. But this guy needed to park up next to T-Hoe.

At least I had left plenty of room from the line. There is nothing on the right side of my rightful handicap space. It's on the end. So I was not inconveniencing any other parkers.

How can people be so bad at parking???

I Suppose the Novelty Has Worn Off

You may recall that last year, Hick volunteered to be an election judge. He was assigned to a precinct that is 30 minutes from home. Yesterday was election day. Hick made sure to secure food to take. He went by Country Mart on Monday, and ordered a BIG SANDWICH. He said the people really liked it last time. 

Hick had to be at the precinct by 5:30 a.m. They really wanted him there by 5:15. So he was out of here before 5:00, with his sandwich in a cooler. He was a bit surprised that he was still an election judge, having presumed that it was a finite time limit.

When Hick got home shortly before 9:00 p.m., he conceded that he might be on that election judge list until he asked to be off. He thought he had been on it since last March or April, but I think it was July. He said he thinks he gets paid $16 per hour for it. I'm not sure, because Hick is kind of unreliable with such facts. I DO know that he worked 14 hours. And that next year, as with this year, he will receive a W2 from the county for his pay.

Hick brought home a little bit of his BIG SANDWICH this time.

"Oh, did they not like it as well? It really smelled like it had too much onion on it."

"No. They really liked it again. But there was only five of us this time."

"What else did you have to eat?"

"One lady brough a fruit tray that she made. She cut up some strawberries and apples."

"So you just had your sandwich, and a fruit tray???"

"No. Somebody brought a meat tray. And a loaf of bread. But everybody liked my sandwich more."

Huh. That's different from last time, when they had pulled pork, baked beans, macaroni salad, potato salad, and donuts! And unlike last time's 28 percent voter turnout, this time they had 15 percent. I don't know what issues were on the ballot. I didn't bother to get out and vote. Neither did Hick. So I guess 15 percent is good enough.

Hick was not as excited about working the election this time. I guess that's why they only had half the workers as last time. Nobody is passionate about any issues.

Another Grilling of Hick

Sunday, we had another grilling of Hick. He's quite a good BBQer. The menu this time was pork steaks and bratwurst. REAL bratwurst, courtesy of the Save A Lot butcher department. None of that brand name pre-packaged stuff. 

Hick chose a pork steak, with sides of Stove Top Stuffing (a favorite of The Pony), and baked beans with onions and hot dogs. That was a request from Hick. I normally bake the beans with diced onion, but Hick wanted hot dogs included this time.

The Pony chose bratwursts. Don't get me started on the KETCHUP, but I can understand the mayo. Also the Stove Top Stuffing, and a new addition, the baked beans. Normally The Pony does not choose the baked beans.

The Pony also enjoyed a baked potato and salad and Sister Schubert's Rolls. I had to take that picture twice, because The Pony chastised me for missing the peace sign.

I chose a bratwurst, saving my pork steak for another day. There are baked beans and SLAW, too. I don't have any phobia about food touching. I just like my sides in a ramekin, for portion control. No need for condiments on my brat, since slaw is a good accoutrement. 

Of course I had a salad. Not because I think it's healthy, with all my blue cheese dressing and crispy onions. Just because I LIKE salad.

The Pony went home with some cheesecake and cookies for dessert, along with the rest of the Stove Top, and four bratwursts with buns. Hick and I will be having BBQ pork steaks, and some bratwursts, over the next few days, with those baked beans.

Hick the Matchmaker (Not)

Hick came home from a day of selling at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) and said he got an interesting text from a customer.

"She asked me who was the guy driving the Dodge Charger."

"Isn't that the car from that TV show? What was it? The orange car with a number on the side. Maybe a 1?"

"The Dukes of Hazard? No. That was a Dodge Challenger. This was a Charger. A newer model. Kind of like a Barracuda."

"Oh! I had one of those in my Hot Wheels cars. It was purple. Really fast."

"Anyway, she asked me who that guy was. I think she's kind of sweet on him."

"You could be a matchmaker! Did you tell her who it was?"

"No. He's married! He's been married five or six times. I just told her that he's a regular customer."

"How old is she?"

"Probably in her 40s. Same as he is. But I'm not telling her who he is. He's married."

Well... for now, anyway! Never a dull moment for Hick.

The Creeks Are Up

We're in the middle of four days of constant rain. At least we were in between the storm bands that brought tornadoes earlier in the week. Our hillbilly mansion sits high upon a hill. A tornado could be dangerous, but the water doesn't reach us, and the basement is without leaks.

We have a route to town that can avoid the main low water bridge.

That's our bridge, down by Mailbox Row, on Friday. I can tell by the level of the water on those supports that the main low water bridge will not be passable. I'd get you a picture, but that would require backing up T-Hoe to find a place to turn around once I took it. Not something I want to do on a narrow, curvy, blacktop road. Take my word for it. When the waters recede, I might be able to show the aftermath, if there's no traffic behind me.

On Saturday, the water was higher.

I knew it would be worse before I got to that point. The evidence was clear.

It was obvious the creek had been out of its banks earlier in the day. That's the gravel road leading to Mailbox Row.

A lot of debris was left high(er) and (not-so) dry when the creek receded. I'm glad I waited until the future radar showed a lull in the rain before heading to town. Hick was out of here early, before the road flooded.

Rain by itself won't keep me from town! Those scratchers aren't going to buy themselves. Rain won't keep Hick from going to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) all weekend. Rain won't keep The Pony from walking 11.5 miles to deliver the mail every day.

Of course we had planned another cookout for Sunday. The rain is supposed to stop by afternoon. Even if not, Hick can wheel GassyG Jr around the porch to find a place out of the wind. The porch goes all the way around the house. Some section will be calm and dry. Hick will need to wear a jacket! The temp is only going to reach the low 50s. The Pony and I will be warm and dry inside, working up an appetite.

They Must Be Saving Too Much

What's the deal here? I went to Save A Lot on Wednesday, and when I got back out to T-Hoe, I couldn't read the amount I spent on the receipt! Surely Save A Lot can afford to put ink in their receipt-printer! It's a mystery. 

I only wrote down the numbers I could read in my checkbook register. I could have tried to guess what that missing number was. But there was only a one in ten chance of being right. So I waited until Friday, when I used my bank's automated phone number to reconcile my account. 

Do you feel lucky? Want to wager a guess about that missing number? Be honest! You can put your guess in a comment. But I am going to put the answer below. So if you keep reading before guessing, you are cheating!

!

!

!

!

!

According to my bank's automated voice, that missing number was "1." That would not have been my guess.

Reuben Day Again!

Hick has not been bringing home a monthly menu from the Senior Center for the past couple months. Now that he's "working" there, maybe he will have lunch more often, and remember to bring one. Though I think there's probably another reason that we all realize will lead to him eating lunch there more often...

Anyhoo... on Monday Hick revealed that Tuesday would be REUBEN DAY! He said he'd bring me one for supper. That it would be easier without a certain person answering the phone. Indeed, Hick DID bring me my precious Reuben.

"Ooh! That looks good! How did you know they were having it?"

"I checked on my phone for the menu."

"Bring a menu home so I can see if I want something else. That salad looks good, but I could do without the beets."

"Oh. You don't like beets?"

"I'm pretty sure we went over this before. MORE THAN ONCE! I've never liked beats."

"I'll try to remember next time to tell them to leave out the beets."

When I looked in the dessert box, Hick was not home. I was mystified.

That is not what I would describe as appetizing. I gave it a sniff. It smelled sweet. Kind of like buttercream icing. But that's not cake. I don't know what the liquid is seeping out. When Hick got home again, I asked.

"I don't know what it was called, but it was good."

"You're getting it. I just wanted to know what it's supposed to be."

"It's cream cheese and grapes."

"Are you sure? It looks more like Cool Whip."

"It might be Miracle Whip and grapes."

"NO! Miracle Whip is just mayo with sugar in it. I said COOL Whip. But there's some other chunks in there besides grapes. I can see nuts and something else."

"My phone says the menu was Grilled Reuben, Chef Salad, Beets, Grapes in a Cloud."

Hick ate it like it was good. I enjoyed the salad, though I used my own blue cheese dressing on it, not the little packet. The Reuben was great. Heated in the oven, the bread toasted up nicely.

Hick was thrilled on Wednesday when he had meat loaf. 

"They give us all three pieces! The mayor was there having lunch, and wanted to meet me since I started working there. So the gal took me over and introduced me. The mayor said she'd been hearing a lot of good things about me, and to let her know if there's anything she can do for me. So I told her the yard needs mowed, and I think the city should do it. And that there's still a limb in the back parking lot that needs cleaned up. And that I have a whole page list of things I want to talk about at our meeting."

"Oh, no! You shouldn't have told her all that now."

"Well. She asked. So I told her."

"Heh, heh! You might get fired now!"

"I don't think so. But if I'm going to do this job, I'm going to do it right. It seems like it hasn't been done right. I guess that guy was just not able to do some of the stuff."

I wonder if that guy could have remembered that his wife never liked beets...

NEXT! Bargain House Bedroom Progress

Hick sent pictures of the front bedroom of Bargain House on Wednesday. He's been busy with his store and the elderly apartments, but he and Old Buddy finished the trim and put in the light and receptacles.

Hick says there are a couple areas where the paint needs touch-up, but they're not noticeable in the picture. The chair is one that was in the house. Not sure why he set it there. It's not like that's a way to "stage" a bedroom. I can imagine Hick sitting there, telling Old Buddy what to do, heh, heh. The only suggestion I have for this area is that Hick paint the light switch plate and electrical receptable white.

See? This electrical receptacle is white, and goes with the trim. The light fixture looks nice. There's that chair again. Not sure if Hick moved it, or if there were two. Kind of ruins my vision of Hick the taskmaster ordering Old Buddy around, if they each had a chair.

Hick said they also ran the exhaust for the bathroom vent so it goes to the outside. And that next, they are starting on the other bedroom, first by painting the closet. He says it doesn't need much work.

Hick also went by to talk to Realtor about any suggestions for the Double Hovel. Any ways to bring it to the attention of more buyers, or if we should adjust the price. I've always said that her listing did it no favors, and maybe just an updated listing, better describing the properties, might garner more interest. Unfortunately, Realtor was not in her office. Hick had to get to the Senior Center. Not to work, but to eat meat loaf for lunch. Then he was heading over to Illinois to pick up some merchandise for his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5).

Hick Dives into His New Job

Hick has been doing the duties of his new job. Not that it takes up much time. The old guy showed him what needed to be done. He fixed a couple things brought to his attention, like the lights in the hall. He said he had a meeting to take the expenditures to the city accountant, or some such entity. I don't really listen the whole time he's droning about things that don't interest me much.

Monday evening he got a phone call. I didn't hear to much of it, but it sounded like a problem. So I asked what was going on.

"It was a lady at the Senior Center. She said she turned on her kitchen sink, and the water gushed out all over the floor, and would I come fix it in the morning. I said sure."

"Is she okay? Should you go tonight?"

"No. She said she got it mopped up. She asked me to come in the morning. She said she left the mop right there, in case there's a mess, I can clean it up."

"Will she go somewhere while you're working? I mean, where would she have to go?"

"She's 88 years old. She still drives, though. She'll probably just go downstairs while they're getting lunch ready. She's usually down there by 8:30."

"Was it her faucet? Did it spray the kitchen?"

"No. I think it was probably a bolt that came loose from a pipe under the sink. I'll get it fixed. I'd go at 7:00, but that's probably too early for her. So I told her 8:00."

I'm sure Hick would have gone that evening if it was an emergency, or if the lady had asked. It takes about 20 minutes for him to get there. He wouldn't leave an old lady with water leaking overnight in her kitchen.

Less Taxing Than Last Year

You may recall that I started working on our taxes March 20. That was a Wednesday. I got a lot done, and the weather calmed down, and I was able to get to town the next day like normal. By Friday evening, I had Hick's business information entered, everything finished. 

I'd reviewed my returns twice. 

On Saturday, I submitted the tax returns online as usual. I got the email that they'd been received, both federal and state. That was a relief. Done for another year. I usually don't give it another thought. I'm not one of those people who constantly check to see if our refund had been issued yet.

Imagine my surprise on Friday, when doing the weekly balancing of our checking account, when the bank information line said we had a deposit for the amount of the Missouri tax refund! That has to be a record! Submitted on Saturday, refund deposited on Friday! It usually takes a few weeks. And in the past, Missouri has lagged behind the federal refund.

Anyhoo... it's not like we're rolling in dough. We always have the taxes held out up front from any monies we receive, and set our exemptions so that we are more likely to get a refund rather than having to pay. I know that we are just giving the feds interest money by letting them hold out more than necessary. But it prevents a "surprise" tax bill. You never know when we might sell a flip house, or if Hick will have a really good year of SUS2.5 sales.

The Pony was working on taxes Sunday. He called for the amount we had spent on the QuickFlip renovations between buying it, then selling it three weeks later. The Pony got his own paperwork for his portion of the sale at closing. So he had those figures, just not the expenditures. Back at the time of the sale, The Pony looked up info on capital gains. He set aside some of his profit for tax time.

The Pony said his taxes are done, but he's waiting a week to file, so he can look over it again with "fresh eyes" to see if there's something he might have missed. He will be paying again, not getting a refund. But he says it looks like the amount will only be about half of what he planned for.

Poor Genius. He also has to pay. An amount that is near what The Pony made off the QuickFlip. POOR Genius, indeed! That's a terrible problem to have...

Hick Can Renovate a Kitchen, But Can't Comprehend What Goes on in One

Hick is quite talented at looking at a room in a flip house, and knowing what to do with it. Make it smaller, make it bigger, turn it into another room. It's simple for him. He might draw a floor plan for me if I ask, but for him, it's all in his head. He takes measurements, cuts boards, and VOILA! A new room has been created.

It's the simple things that give Hick trouble.

Saturday night, I made meat loaf for supper. I don't have a recipe. I just throw stuff in. Hamburger, wheat bread crumbs, a couple eggs, some powdered onion soup mix, Worcestershire sauce, and steak sauce. I bake it in a glass 9 x 13 pan that was handed down from my mom. It's at least 65 years old. I'm careful not to grab the part where the end has chipped. I bake my meat loaf at 350, for about 40-50 minutes, then add ketchup to the top, and put it back in the oven for another 10-15 minutes. I would never expect Hick to be able to do this. Not even with instructions written down.

No. I don't ask Hick to construct a meat loaf. The only thing I expected of him was to cut off a slice for his plate. I'd already made his mashed potatoes, and warmed up some garlic toast. I even had marked off the meat loaf in sections. You'd think wielding a knife to slice through meat loaf would be a job Hick was capable of.

"I've got the meat loaf out of the oven. I plan on us eating it for three nights. So I marked it into thirds. I know you like the end. So you can cut that section in half to get your part. I don't care if you take a little more than half. I'll get mine later."

Everybody knows what a slice of meat loaf looks like, right?

That picture is from several years ago. Not the current meat loaf. I only show it as an example of what a slice of meat loaf looks like. You know, in case you've been living under a rock, shacking up with the Geico caveman. A slice of meat loaf. Like you would get in a diner, a restaurant, or any normal home.

Hick took the knife, and I had to say 

"STOP! What are you doing??? That's not how you cut a meat loaf!"

Pardon me for this next picture. It's the actual meat loaf, but cold, in the battle-scarred glass baking dish that's Val's version of a family heirloom. Just to explain Hick's idea of cutting a meat loaf.

Imagine the other end still being on the meat loaf. You can see my dividing mark for Sunday and Monday suppers. Did Hick make his slice parallel to that cut in the ketchup? No siree, Bob! Hick was trying to make his cut with the KNIFE PERPENDICULAR TO THE DIVIDING LINE!

I just took the knife and cut it myself. Might as well. It seems like where Hick's kitchen skills are concerned, I should take care of every step. How can Hick be so old, and not understand the shape of a serving of meat loaf??? It should NOT be a square!

Hick says he was right about the way he wanted to cut the meat loaf. Because it was in half. And that I only want things done MY way. Well. Maybe he should amend that to my way, and the way everybody else in the world slices meat loaf...

I'm wondering if one of Hick's buddies IS the Geico caveman.

Hick Has 99 Talents and "Lucky Gambler" Ain't One

Hick has no trouble finding ways to spend his "spare" time between flipping houses, stocking and operating his Storage Unit Store, maintaining the apartments at the Senior Center, mowing our 10 acres/Pony's yard/three flip yards, picking up remodeling projects from elderlies, and shooting the bull with his cronies every Friday afternoon.

One of Hick's recent recreational pastimes is stopping by a pawnshop run by one of his buddies. I'm sure it started as a guise for buying merchandise to resell in his stores. Now he goes to the fake slot machines there, to spend a little time and money. I don't mind. We each have our weekly cash allowance. What Hick does with his is not my concern.

These fake slot machines LOOK like regular slots, only not as fancy. They play the same way. I can't imagine how they're legal, but Hick says it's because they have a button that tells you whether the next spin will be a winner. And also it shows what the next jackpot will be, but some regular slots show that as well. In Missouri, the only legal slots are in "riverboat" casinos. Though "riverboat" is a broad determination, with most casinos being stationary on land, which might include several pylons in water.

Anyhoo... these fake slots have been around for several years, and are becoming more and more prevalent. There are two in Save A Lot, and in some gas stations. Now this pawnshop. They are called "gambling machines," and are supposedly legal because they are NOT games of chance. Because you can see if the next spin will be a winner.

Hick says he usually spends $20 when he's there. Hick is not a high roller. He only plays quarter denominations in the casino. These fake slots go from a quarter up to several dollars.

Friday, before Hick met up with The Pony to go get a new phone, he had been playing the fake slot.

"I spent $40, and a lady played it after me, and spent $10. We was talking about it as I left, and my buddy who runs the place said, 'Which machine was it? I'm gonna run back there and play it, heh, heh!' I told him he better not be sending me a picture of him with a big jackpot."

Of course you know where this is leading. Hick indeed got a picture of the guy sitting in front of that fake slot. He had won $800. The text came in while he was in the truck with The Pony. I mentioned it when talking to The Pony on his new phone later that evening.

"OH! So THAT'S why Dad said, 'That asshole!' when he checked his phone."

Heh, heh. No sympathy from me or The Pony, former jackpot winners of $8,600 and $16,633 on REAL slot machines!

Hick has won several times on this fake slot. I think maybe his highest jackpot on it was $80.

"I was bettin' a dollar this time. My buddy said he was bettin' two dollars. I thought he was joking about going to play it. He didn't go in while I was still there. He made sure to send me that picture, just because I told him not to!"

Oh, well. It's entertainment. Anything that keeps Hick off the streets and in the pawnshop is acceptable, I guess.

Another Odd Encounter at the Grocery Store

Friday I got the handicap space next to the cart return at 10Box. Not the closest handicap space. A sedan was parked there, with a lady behind the wheel, talking to someone out the window, with three kids in the back. Not sure why she needed that space for her passenger to be inside shopping, but she DID have a handicap placard hanging from the mirror while she was sitting there socializing, and stayed there when her conversation partner went inside to shop.

I pried a cart loose from the three stacks waiting to be "returned" to the inside cart corral. I used it as my cart/walker to go inside. As I was entering the second set of double doors, a woman came out. She was fifty-something, with bleached blond hair, carrying a bottle of orange drink in her hand. I sure hope she wasn't shoplifting! She did not come from the register area, but from the other side. Maybe she had parked her cart back in the indoor cart corral, and was just carrying out her purchase. Though I don't know why she would need a cart just to buy a drink. Maybe she was a worker without a uniform. Anyhoo... she was in no hurry, and did not seem to be on the lam for a crime.

"Are you going to use that riding cart?"

"No."

"Look here. If you do this..." She took the seatbelt of the child-seat, and grabbed the other end. Looped it through one handle of my purse, which was sitting in the child seat. "If you buckle this, nobody can steal your purse."

"Oh. Thank you. That's a tip I haven't heard before."

Blondie went on out with her bottle of orange drink. I continued into the store. That was a bit presumptuous of her, but I know she meant well. Yes, it could keep somebody from grabbing my purse out of the cart. But it could also keep ME from grabbing the purse out of my cart if somebody decided to run off with the whole cart, knowing I am unable to chase them down. I always keep a hand on my purse handle while I'm pushing the cart. I don't leave my cart unattended to get items off the shelf. I take my purse out and put it on T-Hoe's bumper in front of my body, when I'm loading groceries outside. 

I unbuckled my purse handle when I got inside. I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't really want to shop with my purse buckled in. Besides, why should I trust a lady exiting the store, reaching towards my purse? That's why I always keep a hand on the handle.

The Brief Restoration of Val's Faith in Humanity Has Been Revoked

What is wrong with people? Is the end of civilization on the horizon? Just when I thought kindness was enjoying a resurgence, chaos reared its entitled head again.

Thursday is my errand day. I put gas in T-Hoe, go to the bank, do a little shopping, and get my usual scratchers. Usually without incident.

At the Sis-Town Casey's, I went inside to pre-pay for T-Hoe's gas. Two teenagers were completing their soda purchase. A 20-something woman was swaying back and forth while giving them a wide berth in line. Then I was next. The teens finished and stepped aside, talking loudly as teens do. I have no issue with them. Swayer stepped up to pay, using a card. Two people got in line behind me. The cashier stepped over to the other register, and said she could help me. 

A random 40-something gal walked across in front of me. She started to put her stuff on the counter of that second register, then looked back and saw my face. I'm pretty sure it showed displeasure.

"Oh. I just want somewhere to set this down." 40s Gal put four mini bottles of liquor on the counter, then scooted aside. 

I stepped up to make my transaction. You wouldn't think four mini bottles of liquor would be too awkward or heavy to hold in line, would you? They're airline size bottles. Not magnums of champagne. Did 40s Gal think she was going to jump line? It was probably more than just my expression that swayed her. Most likely the mob forming behind me.

At the bank, the teller at not-my window was trying to make small talk with a bald guy who got out of a black dually pickup truck. I guess he was depositing cash. "Oh! How did you know I needed some fifties?" The guy was having none of it. He grumpily replied, "I didn't." Just go along with it, buddy. No need to be a horse's rumpus. No matter how she cheerily tried to engage him, he was a grouch.

At the grocery store, the guy ahead of me only had a gallon of milk. He was paying with a card. It cost four dollars and change. As he was tapping in his info, he hatefully declared, "NO! I DON'T want cash back!" The young cashier was befuddled. "Um. Okay..." he said. When that guy left, he turned to me and asked how I was doing. Then he said, "That guy was something."

"Yeah. Maybe something happened. Maybe he was having a bad day."

"I guess. How do you respond to that? 'I'm sorry?' I can't help what the card scanner shows everybody!"

After I left the Gas Station Chicken Store, I was sitting at the stoplight, waiting to go straight across to the pharmacy. Two cars in cross traffic ran the red light. And they were behind a county sheriff's vehicle that just made a left turn. I guess they were feeling safe that it wouldn't see them and turn around for pursuit. A guy across the intersection from me also ran the red light. I know, because I had the green arrow when he nosed his pickup pulling a long trailer holding a backhoe into the intersection while I had a green arrow.

I guess we have entered an era that might just as well be called Do As You Please. Few people exhibit common courtesy these days. Or follow the laws of the road.

Maybe I'm just cranky, because at the store I had a cart with a bad wheel AND a sticky handle.

Val Has Sympathy. Hick, Not so Much.

You may recall the rift between Hick and a denizen of the place where he used to go every day for lunch. Lately, he's been making it there a couple times a week. Also, he works upstairs now! He doesn't have to be on-site for any specific hours. Just be available to take care of any problems, and collect the rent every month.

Monday evening, Hick had some news.

"Denizen can't work at the Senior Center anymore! The gal in charge said she had to let her go. Told her she couldn't do bingo, and couldn't sit up front answering the phone. The GiC said there were too many complaints. That she was in a craft store over the weekend, and a couple came up to her and said they missed having lunch at the Senior Center, but they won't come back if Denizen is there."

"Was she mean to them?"

"Apparently. GiC had a talk with Denizen, and said there were just too many complaints. She's tried to tell her before, but Denizen only changes when GiC is around. That's why she thought Denizen was doing better. But she's been getting more complaints. So she had to let her go."

"Is Denizan paid for working there?"

"No. She's a volunteer. But she got a job recently as a hostess at a restaurant over in Bill-Paying Town. Of all the people to be a hostess! I asked GiC if Denizen blamed me. And she said no, in fact she blamed everybody else but me!"

"Can she still eat lunch there?"

"Yeah. She just can't work. I doubt she'll ever come back. Probably her and her husband will quit coming."

Welp! Tuesday, Hick said Denizen had been at the Senior Center eating lunch.

"Was she nice to you?"

"No! She was nice to everybody else but me. All smiley and friendly."

"What does her husband do?"

"He actually works there. But she's not allowed back in the kitchen anymore. So she can't go back there and talk to him or anybody."

"Well. This is sad. You know she loved doing that stuff. It's part of who she is. She will miss it a lot. It makes me sad."

"Ain't no reason to feel sorry for her. She brought it on herself, being a busybody. She didn't have to gossip about people, or be mean to them."

"Still. I feel bad for her."

Not Hick. Not a bit. Somehow, he's still in Denizen's doghouse.

Hick Makes a Discovery

Remember the cabinets Hick wanted to get for Bargain House? The cabinets he found on Facebook, for $500, being sold by a woman down in Genius's College Town? There's been a new development. You may recall that Hick was planning to go get them on Monday, but Saturday night he changed his mind when the woman asked for a $100 deposit.

Monday night, Hick was fiddling with his phone after supper. 

"Huh. Remember them cabinets? NOW this gal has them listed again, in St. Louis!"

"The same cabinets?"

"Yeah. She's got the same picture. Asking $500."

"Does she mention a deposit?"

"Nope. She's scamming. I knew it!"

"Does she mention how they're worth $7,000 to $14,000 and have a granite countertop?"

"Nope. Just the cabinets for $500."

"That's to lure people in! Then she'll give them an address. Then she'll ask for a deposit, and say how they're worth so much. Once she gets the deposit, she'll probably say she got a better offer, and sold them."

"Yeah. And good luck getting back the $100 deposit!"

Huh. What a coincidence that the same woman has "another" set of cabinets to sell for $500, but in a different city. Or else she hauled her used countertops up I-44 for two hours to sell them in St. Louis.

Hick is a savvy buyer. It was that woman's weather response that tipped him off.

Val Is Willing to Call the Front Bedroom of Bargain House Pretty Much DONE

When we last virtually toured Hick's Bargain House bedroom work on Thursday, he declared the windows done. I begged to differ. On Monday, when Hick and Old Buddy finished up, around noon, I could see a finished bedroom. Only minor tweaks, and that room is move-in ready.

The side window and front window are definitely trimmed-out. All I see is a need for the face plates on the electrical outlets, and trim boards along the ceiling.

I don't think I showed you the closet Hick built in the corner, after taking the original closet to use for the new bathroom.

It's not a big closet, but it IS a closet. Better than not having a closet at all. Now it looks pretty good in the finished bedroom.

The closet (on the left) is finished now. The walls painted. There's the door to the living room in the middle. And the door to the new bathroom on the right. The trim boards look nice, almost all done. The floor just needs a quick mopping to make this room fit for occupancy. And a light fixture.

I'm not sure which room Hick will tackle next. 

Val Will Not Be Mean-Mugged into Sumission

Just when you think all your Gas Station Chicken Store problems are solved, gliding into the empty lone handicap space at the side of the building... you enter, and discover they are not.

Friday I entered the store and saw only two customers ahead of me. They were together, man and woman. I heard ice clickety-clacking into a styrofoam cup at the soda fountain, but could not see down that aisle as to the identity of the customer. I stood behind the couple, waiting to cash in my scratchers.

The Man was like a kid in a candy store. Peering down into the glass ticket case. "Um. Uh. Give me a number 15." [Oh, no! I wanted one of those!] "And I guess a 13." [No! Another of mine!] 

He picked a couple more that didn't interest me. They put them and his gas and two sodas on his debit card. That takes forever with their old-fashioned scan thingy they slide out on a wire. Finally they were done. 

As I stepped up to hand Fave (my favorite cashier) my winners, I saw a grouchy gray-haired lady to my left. She had been out of sight down the soda fountain aisle. She was holding a 44 oz soda, glaring at me. Normally, I would be polite, and say, "Oh, I didn't see you there. Were you here before I came in?" But this time I didn't. I KNEW she was still getting her soda when I was in line. I HEARD the ice. And after the ice comes the soda. Then the lid and straw. I was well-ensconced in my place in line while she was still 'shopping' for her soda!

I stepped up and did my lottery business. A more polite countenance, and I might have let her go ahead of me. I do that, you know, if it looks like somebody only needs a short transaction. It most often comes back to bite me in my ample rumpus, with people using their card for gas, or asking for chewing tobacco off the shelf, or a carton of obscure cigarettes.

Anyhoo... I'm not giving up my rightful place in line for a GROUCH!

Maybe I should have. Maybe she would have bought tickets ahead of me. I only won $5 that day. Less than I spent. I figure the Man ahead of me got my winners.

Val STILL Couldn't Outrun Hick, Even IF He Was Trying to Kill Her

Hick took a tumble earlier this week, over at Bargain House.

"I went out the front door to meet Old Buddy. He had some stuff to unload. I was looking out at the street while I was walking. The sidewalk is flat, then steps up and is flat again, then it steps up a third time. I didn't know I was at a step, and caught my feet on it. I fell right on my knees!"

Of course Hick didn't tell me about it for a day or two. I noticed he was hobbling a little. And groaning more than usual when his feet hurt.

"I think I mighta broke my kneecap!"

"I don't think so. I doubt you could walk if you broke your kneecap. A broken bone hurts all the time. It doesn't come and go. And if you bump another bone connected to it, you feel the pain at the break. It's called referred pain. It's actually a way to test for a broken bone. Tap on another bone."

"The first day after it, I was working on my knees, putting in floor trim. It hurt. But now I can't even get on my knees. I feel a tingle."

"I don't know what that could be. A nerve? Nerves tingle. Like your funny bone, the ulnar nerve in your elbow. Maybe there's swelling in your knee, pressing on a nerve, because you hurt it and then were kneeling on it, making it worse."

"I don't know. It feels like it has a hole in it! But it's not swollen." Hick pulled up his jeans. "Here. On the outer side."

"Well. I don't know why it would feel like hole. Unless it's a place not swollen. I guess you could have chipped the kneecap, but your pain doesn't sound like that. Maybe you injured the bursa."

"I only have one bursa. I think it's in the other knee, but I don't remember."

"Huh. That's odd."

"It's what they told me when I had my knees operated on."

"You might want to see a doctor if it keeps hurting."

"I've been puttin' that Voltaren on it, that they gave me for my feet."

When I told The Pony, he was worried.

"Now I'm worried about DAD. Please tell me at least he's going to a doctor about it!"

"Well. He hasn't mentioned that. He thinks he broke something, but I say he couldn't walk if he did."

"Um. We are THAT family who doesn't go to the doctor, and tries to ignore things that are wrong. If you remember, I was going to walk back to my LLV [Long Life Vehicle] when I was sitting on the sidewalk with a broken ankle. Then that neighbor drove me back to wait on my supervisor."

Yes. I DO remember that. As for Hick, he's still getting around better than I am.

Bargain House Solo Work

Hick was on his own at Bargain House on Thursday. Old Buddy called in sick, so Hick worked on things he could do alone. He sent me pictures, because he thrives on VALidation!

"Windows trimmed in front bedroom"

As with most of Hick's communications, I was at first puzzled. The windows didn't look trimmed to me! Just like when Hick said the bathroom was done, but it still needed trim board, a shower door, and the water hooked up.

Am I the only person who thinks this doesn't look like a "trimmed" window? This is the window that looks out at the side neighbor's house. I can see there has been work done on it. But trimmed? I don't think so!

I questioned Hick when he got home. He said he meant to take pictures BEFORE he started, but he forgot. This window was partially done when he remembered.

THIS is what I would call a trimmed window. It's on the front of Bargain House, looking across the street. Hick said both windows are the ones originally in the house, so he didn't have to buy any, just trim them. He also said that he finished both windows, and painted the walls white. So the front bedroom is almost done.

Hick also said that there is a problem with the kitchen window that will have to be addressed. Heh, heh. He didn't say addressed. I think he might have said dealt with.

"There's a black line in it. It's a double-paned window, and some of the foam has leaked out and expanded. I'll ask my buddy who does windows if there's some way he can fix it. He might know what to do. It will be cheaper than buying a whole new window, but we might have to do that."

Because he's not busy enough, Hick has agreed to paint a house. Somebody at the Senior Center asked him to paint her mom's house for a Mother's Day gift. But she wants it to be a secret. A surprise.

"I told her I'd do it. But I'm not sure how I'm going to keep it a secret!" 

I guess Hick needs to address that issue with the gift-giver! Short of taking her mom out for the day, and then driving up to a painted house, I'm not sure how they will pull that off.

Small Town Politics, a Hornet's Nest Hick Wants to Stir

Hick's mouth is wanting to write checks that his rumpus can't cash!

You may recall that Hick has taken a job overseeing the maintenance of the apartments for the elderlies who live above the Senior Center. Somebody told him he must be doing something right, because the resident elderlies have been speaking highly of him. Mainly because he's doing SOMETHING.

Of course these accolades are not enough for Hick. He wants to get to the bottom of things he sees as questionable. Nothing that concerns the welfare of the elderlies. Just the way things are run.

"I noticed that the city owns the building, but the Senior Center pays for the insurance. But the beneficiary on the insurance is the city!"

That sounds odd, but I'm sure there are probably state or federal grants involved that might have something to do with that set-up.

"Oh, and the Senior Center is supposed to pay for having that strip of grass there mowed. But the city owns the property. At our next meeting, I want to ask them about that. It's a meeting for us who work there, and people on a board. The city administrator comes. If grass gets too high at a house in the city, the owner gets a notice to clean it up, or gets a fine. I want to ask the city administrator what happens if the Senior Center doesn't have money to get the grass mowed? Is the city going to send itself a letter to clean it up? And if they don't, is the city going to fine itself?"

"You need to watch it. My sister's husband hasn't been the mayor for a while now. You're going to make enemies in city government, and they'll give you a hard time from then on."

"Heh, heh! They might fire me from my new job!"

"They might..."

"Oh, well. I just want to know how they can justify the insurance and the mowing, when it's THEIR property, but we're supposed to pay. One of my buddies says he thinks we only pay liability insurance. So I could understand that."

I really hope Hick does not bring up these issues at their meeting. A job is a temporary thing, but enemies are forever. The Pony's house is in that city. It's still in our name.