November Grillin'

The gales of November have not stopped Hick from grilling. Thevictorians are not the Edmund Fitzerald! In fact, there are no current gales. The weather was clear and in the 70s on Thursday. The Pony had not been out for lunch in a while, so we planned a weekday BBQ. That was for Hick, who doesn't like missing even an hour of reduced daylight behind the counter of his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). Deer season is coming, and the sportsmen are spending. So we didn't want to take him away from his shop on the weekend.

Nothing fancy this time. The Pony volunteered to make special Mac N Cheese. Except the box mix was forgotten at home, along with the special spices and ingredients! Luckily, I had a simple box of it in the pantry, and some minced garlic in FRIG II. Though not much else except a few different cheeses to add to the powder in the box.

Also on the menu were the tater-tot-like potato "coins" that are found in the freezer at 10Box. And I baked up some potatoes and onions for Hick. He likes them wrapped in foil and put on the grill, but that is harder for me to get ready than just putting them in the oven. Sliced potatoes layered with sliced onions and butter. I had a bit of bacon left over from making green beans last week, so it went in, too.

Hick must have been off his feed. That's all he had! To be fair, he DID have lunch at the Senior Center, which was spaghetti and garlic bread and German Chocolate Cake. So maybe he was still full.

The Pony strapped on the old feedbag with a couple of bratwursts. They had the regular kind this time, and beer brats. Hick did not keep them separate on the grill, so you never know that you're going to get. I guess supper time at Thevictorian household is like a box of bratwursts, heh, heh. I can tell that was The Pony's plate because of the ketchup. It was NOT for the potato coins... The Pony ate salad as an appetizer this time, while we were getting the side dishes ready. That's because The Pony usually gets too full while eating salad with the meal, and leaves some behind for me to finish the next day.

I chose a nice fat charred hot dog instead of a bratwurst. As usual, my most-favored part of the grilling was the salad. I love a good BIG salad! I used the last of the home-grown tomatoes that had been provided by Hick's buddy. In fact, I was unable to finish my salad this time! The mustard is for the hot dog, and the ketchup is for the potatoes. I normally just put the mustard on the hot dog, but The Pony was gathering my condiments, and treated it like the ketchup. Which is definitely for the potato coins. Shasta Zero Sugar with fresh-squeezed lemon for the beverage. High-class this time! In a plastic glass rather than the can, heh, heh.

Once again, I forgot the show the desserts. It was a big cookie, chocolate chip, bought at Country Mart. And a choice of a chocolate-coated ice cream bar, two kinds of Drumsticks, and Cherry Chocolate Chunk ice cream in a regular or waffle cone. The Pony and Hick chose the Drumstick with caramel, and I had an ice cream bar. 

The Pony took home a bunch of leftovers, and Hick and I will be feeding on the rest for several nights. Can't beat a good November cookout!

Val Saves Herself From Slow Torture on Hick's Wait List

T-Hoe is still thirsting for an oil change. I would bet that you are shocked, but I'm not the kind of Val to throw my money away on gambling, heh, heh. 

Good thing I am observant of my surroundings while out and about in town. Wednesday at the Backroads Casey's, I cheated over quite a bit in my rightful handicap space. It's the last space at the right end of the building. I wasn't affecting anybody else's parking. The car I parked beside was in no-man's-land. Not IN the next space. Just taking up two halves of different spaces. I figured that by moving over a bit, if that car left, the next one would hopefully park inside the lines, and I'd still have plenty of room to get T-Hoe's door open all the way.

A dude came out of the store with a soda and slice of pizza as I was getting out. I tried not to look at him, though he did not give me the same courtesy. He stood next to the passenger door of the space-hogging car, having been locked out by his driver, who was still inside the store.

What's THIS??? As I was putting my foot down, I saw an implement of T-Hoe destruction lying in wait! We can't have that! No need for T-Hoe to start limping like Val!

I didn't take a picture right there. I didn't want That Dude to start twirling his crazy temple finger. So I picked up the evidence. Not for a picture, you big sillies! To get it off the parking lot! I know how these things work. I've had a dang BOLT flatten my tire before. Not even pointy like this screw. As the tire rolls back over it, the head flips the pointy end up, and it catches in the tire, and stabs it as the tire continues to roll!

This one was only about two inches long, unlike the bolt, which was about four. I showed Hick when we were on a commercial during Survivor. He dropped it in his empty Diet Mountain Dew bottle. 

We all know that if T-Hoe gets a flat tire, I will be waiting for a while before it's fixed. At least I spotted this evil weapon. Maybe I should start carrying a metal detector. And de-sensitize myself to the crazy temple twirly finger.

Hick Follows Through

Hick and Old Buddy continued painting the back porch area of Bargain House on Wednesday morning. When the ceiling of the porch gets a nice coat (or two) of white paint, it will make a nice little sitting area for BBQing, or watching kids or pets play in the back yard.

Now the house is all one (close enough) color. I think the white door itself will draw enough "attention" to that part when people drive by to look at it. That, and the little window.

Of course the siding will get a good scrubbing with Hick's power washer. He rarely has a chance to use that gadget, so it's not something he'll forget. I'm going to suggest that he does it soon, because winter is coming on, and nobody wants frozen vinyl siding! It might get brittle. 

With only the kitchen left to do inside, Bargain House might be going on the market during the winter months. So let's get the outside ready NOW! And finish up the inside when it's cold outside.

Hick Gets VAL-Peer-Pressurized

I am thrilled to report that Hick has come to his senses! Mark the calendar! After so many attempts to nag him into submission sway his opinion reason by contrasting positives and negatives... HICK HAS SEEN THE LIGHT! He sent me a text on Tuesday morning. A picture from  Bargain House:

"Color we are painting the side." It's a bit subdued here, with Old Buddy wielding the paintbrush, in the shadow of the rising sun.

I AM THRILLED!

Here's what it looked like back in February, when Hick first enclosed part of the porch and put in the back door:

Now the porch wood will match the color of the siding. And you can see, if you compare the two pictures, that Hick has upgraded the electrical entrance with a new box. That had to be done.

Right before he left home Tuesday morning, Hick had said, offhandedly, "I'm painting the back porch of the house yellow. I took a piece of siding and had them mix the paint to match."

I almost fainted! That was too good to be true. I wasn't counting any chickens until it actually happened. But then I got the picture. Evidence! It looks like a pretty good match.

 

"Looks great! Can you use it to paint the ceiling of the porch, too?"

"I think I want to paint it white."

TWO VICTORIES! Matching paint for the addition, and also paint for the porch ceiling. Hick thinks the back wall of the house will also be white, to match the porch.

Why did Hick change his mind? He was shocked to hear that "my people" thought the plain wood (or wood siding as he calls it) looked terrible! Hick said all his buddies think the wood looks good. Well. Does he really expect his buddies, who depend on him for assorted advice and trades and business, would be completely honest about their opinion?

Thanks so much for the unanimous opinion of the plain wood!

A Rib-Stickin' Meal for the Cool Weather

Sunday was actually Day 2 for this meal. Hick ain't playin' when he fills a plate. This time he required me to break out the picnic/school lunch tray, so he'd have room for all his selections. In fact, he even turned down a home-grown tomato from a buddy, because "I think this is probably plenty." No need to take up valuable stomach real estate with a vegetable, heh, heh! Yes, I gave Hick a fork, but I think he was licking it after forking his pork chop onto the tray.

You can't tell from this photo, but the pork chops were thick, and quite juicy. Even Hick agreed that they turned out better with Shake N Bake than when he grilled the others on GassyG Jr. Hick loves Stove Top Stuffing. The biscuits are the store-brand peel-apart flaky layers kind. The green beans and potatoes were from a can, but I simmered them for two hours with bacon and a diced onion. 

I have never pretended to be a gourmet chef. I dish up reasonably tasty food, and I can make it healthier if the eater is receptive to such a concept. We are simple people. Much like Hick can turn an old shack into a safe, livable house with no frills, I can plate a meal that will satisfy hunger and not make you sick. We are simple, basic people, living a simple, basic life.

I preferred a fresh tomato to the stuffing. And I don't like my food juices running all over the place. I don't mind if they mix, or the foods touch each other. That's not my pecadillo. I just don't like sloppy food.

Thursday, we're having a cookout with The Pony. Not sure what I'll feed Hick between now and then. He has leftover green beans and stuffing and biscuits. I think he'll get Buffalo chicken chunks for his main course. Too spicy for me. I'll rummage through the pantry and freezer. I think I have some sardines in mustard sauce hiding there. Hick is not a fan. I need to start saving room for the cookout. And I don't mean in the pantry or freezer.

A Loss of Savings

Welp! We're not saving daylight anymore. I have only T-Hoe's clock left to change. Sometimes I leave it for a day or two, just to think about what time it would have been last week. The living room clock was a problem, because Hick has stacked a box and some clean folded clothes in the path along the couch. Like a barricade! I managed to grab the clock off the wall by standing behind the couch, but I couldn't balance well enough to extend my arm and position it on the nail in the wall hang it back. Hick had to do that part before he left home. 

Now I will have to go to town earlier. I don't want to drive into the setting sun, barely able to see oncoming traffic in my lane! And I don't want to leave any later, because then it would be almost dark coming home.

It's the time of year when you think of more substantial suppers, served shortly after 5:00. That's when my dad got home from work. 5:10. So it seems like suppertime to me. Not 6:30 or 7:00, as Hick and I tend to stretch it out during the summer. He likes to work outside. Then wants something lighter, because he's been in the heat.

We finally got a cold snap. There was a freeze warning last night, and it's 43 degrees now, shortly before noon. Supper is going to be Shake N Bake pork chops, Stove Top Stuffing, green beans with bacon and onion, and biscuits. Plus sliced homegrown tomatoes. One of Hick's buddies has continued having tomatoes ripen. We have four left on the counter. I'm guessing they will be the last for this season.

I'll settle into a cozy groove until December 21st. At which time I'll be looking forward to spring, with minutes of daylight increasing every day. Of course there will be snow and ice to fret about in January and February. But daylight keeps on expanding.

Hick's "Office Hours" Seem to be Only a Suggestion

Hick continues to be popular with the elderlies who inhabit "his" senior apartments. Even though he has his personal phone number, and hours when he is on the premises, posted on the door of his office... the residents only utilize half of that info.

Thursday night, Hick had another phone call. At least this old gal chose a reasonable time to intrude. It was 7:00, after supper time, and before sleeping time. I heard parts of it from the kitchen. I could hear a woman's voice (Hick has his phone volume REALLY high), but not her side of the conversation. Of course further investigation was necessary. No "Jolene" is gonna steal MY man who annoys me so much.

"What was THAT all about? Sounds like someone thinks you are playing favorites."

"No. This Lady wanted to know if she can have a cat. I told her she cain't just have a cat because somebody gives her a cat."

"Do other people have cats?"

"Yes. No. It's actually a dog. One lady has a little chihuahua dog. Another one had a dog when I took over, but she has moved out. So I was telling This Lady that first of all, she has to have a note from a doctor saying she needs the cat as a comfort animal. If she gets that, then I have to have a note from the vet saying the cat has had all of its shots. The dog lady gave me all that for her little dog. But no, they just cain't have a pet because they want one."

"Did she think the dog lady is getting special treatment? Does she get along with her? Or is she trying to stir up trouble?"

"No. She just wants a cat. Actually, This Lady is really nice. She's not as old as the rest of them. She's a little slow. But she's friendly, and she helps them. She goes to visit with them, and she picks up things if they ask her to get them something. If she gets me the doctor and vet notes, she can have a cat. But I don't expect that to happen. I was just explaining to her."

I guess you just don't know unless you ask. Though This Lady might have saved her asking for regular business hours. It's not like she was going to immediately get a cat at 7:00 p.m. on a Thursday.

A Halloween Tradition

We don't expect any trick-or-treaters tonight. Since we moved out here, we've only had ONE child show up. When the kids were younger, we were usually not home. We took them to town to Grandma's house, and to relatives, and to a couple streets around their daycare worker's little cottage. As they got older, we'd get candy to have on hand while we were home. Of course, WE ate the candy. 

Then one year, there was a knock on the door. WE HAD NOTHING! You know how candy has a habit of disappearing in a house with Hick and two teenage boys... I left Hick at the door, talking to the young 'un, while I rummaged through the pantry. AHA! There was a mulitpack of Cheetos that The Pony took in his lunch. I grabbed a couple. The kid was happy with it.

Anyhoo... when I was in 10Box last week, I saw that Planter's Peanuts were on a sale table. I picked up a jar, thinking I'd make a concoction that Hick loves. All I needed was some candy corn. Can you believe that there was not a single kernel of candy corn in 10Box? At Halloween? Not even a small bag on the regular candy aisle. 

I told Hick later, and he said, "They had a whole table full of it up front at Walmart yesterday!" Well. I was not in Walmart. I told Hick that if he wanted his special treat, he should go back and get some candy corn. A couple days later, he DID. Three bags of candy corn.

What is this delectable seasonal concoction that Hick raves about?

PAYDAY MIX! 

All it takes it two ingredients...

... and two minutes. It's quite simple. Pour out some candy corn, then some dry-roasted peanuts. They don't have to be brand-name. Shake them together, and you have...

...a delicious treat that tastes just like a Payday candy bar. No fancy bowl needed. Chinese Tupperware will do. 

Of course, if you don't like a Payday candy bar, you won't like this treat. Little did I know that Hick was planning to take it to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) to share. With just his buddies, I think. And not with all his customers. I shudder to think of people dipping their hands into the mix! I said so to Hick.

"I hope you have some kind of plastic cups, or ramekins, to share it. Or shake it into people's hands. I can't imagine all of you with your dirty fingers digging around in there. The thought makes me sick."

From the look on Hick's face, I don't believe he had considered the hygienic angle.

Anyhoo... there's a new recipe for you. I don't know how the cost compares to actual Payday candy bars. I just know that you might only want a little bite, with a couple of candy corn kernels and peanuts, or you might want two or three candy bars worth. It's just a sweet treat to have sitting around for when you want a little something. I don't advise giving it out to trick-or-treaters!

A Meeting About Nothing

I survived! I did NOT lapse into a coma during our annual meeting with our financial advisor. Probably because I was shivering, and the cold kept me conscious. That fine line between chattering teeth, and unconsciousness due to hypothermia. I was wearing a jacket the whole time, too! It was 47 degrees outside, with rain. Inside, it felt like 48.

Anyhoo... when I arrived and parked out front, I noticed SilverRedO parked across the street. I waited a few minutes, thinking Hick would walk over, and we'd enter together. That's how it usually works, with him getting there ahead of me. I tell him there's no need to arrive even one second early, because we never get called back on time. At 2:26, with no sign of Hick, I went inside. He wasn't there. The secretary said, 

"Isn't that Hick's truck over at the pawn shop?"

"Yes. That explains it! A PAWN shop!"

As we watched, Hick started across the street. First towards T-Hoe, and then inside when he noticed I was not there.

"I was playin' the slot machines over at the pawn shop. I won $13. But the lady beside me won $200! She was still playin'."

Our Financial Advisor was on a phone call. That wasn't just stalling. We could hear her through the wall. So we waited. Hick monopolized the conversation, not shy about revealing his ire with the city.

"I was over at Lowe's, and I seen two of the city employees there buyin' lumber. Musta been about $500 worth of plywood and 2x4s. That ain't right! There's a lumberyard right here in town, and that's where the city's business should be going. If I owned that lumberyard, I'd be jumpin' up and down at the city council meeting, askin' why they don't spend my tax money locally, and give ME the business that they just did over in Bill-Paying Town. I might anyway! I own property here in the city. Now they're payin' TWO guys to drive over to another town to buy basic lumber they could get right here.  Plus the gas. The lumberyard delivers. And they're buyin' at least half their vehicles from the Ford dealer over there, when they got a Chevy dealer right here."

Thankfully, FA finished her phone call, and took us back. It was 2:45, for our 2:30 appointment. You can bet I was conscious of the time! Counting the minutes until I was free.

During our meeting, the following topics were discussed:

FA's dog is allergic to chicken, so she buys beef and lamb people-grade dog food for him, which is delivered frozen, to her door. He loves it. She also gives him plain yogurt, rather than pay too much for the probiotics her vet recommends. The dog is healthy, with no problems unless he eats chicken, when he breaks out in hives that take two weeks to go away.

FA agrees with Hick about the city government being somewhat uncooperative in their dealings with property owners. She wants to put a light in the alley between her building and our credit union building, because people go through there all the time, and she doesn't know who will held responsible if there's a crime, or someone gets hurt. She has installed a camera, but only views it when she gets an alarm that there's activity of more than 5 minutes. It's usually somebody who had dropped something, and needs to pick it up. The city owns the alley, according to aerial surveys from the courthouse, but says they don't.

Hick said it was the same way about mowing the lawn behind the senior apartments, and when he argued that his group was not responsible for mowing city property, they finally backed down. Rather than Hick having to pay somebody to mow, like the old guy in charge, the city now uses local prisoners to do that task.

FA said she wanted to make a donation to the senior center, and walked down there after lunch one day with a check, but nobody was around. While looking for somebody in the lobby, she read signs that she was on camera, and felt like she must really look suspicious. Hick said to go at lunch time, when people are there. Or to use the drop box he uses for rent payments.

FA noticed a car out front of her house, and thought it was a stalker. Then she saw two strange dogs, and realized they were taking pictures of the DOGS, not her. She knew a lady looking for those dogs, and messaged her. The dogs took off, and she followed with a bag of treats, updating the lady, who finally found them. FA had no leash or collars, just kept feeding treats to keep the dogs close.

FA bought a trunk full of dog food, 40 lb bags, and took to the city dog pound to donate. They told her just to leave it, but she said NO, that she wouldn't leave it outside to be stolen or get rained on. So they sent two guys to meet her, because she would not go inside, as it's too sad, and she wants to adopt all the dogs. They were shocked at the amount she donated, but happy to get it.

FA bought an acre behind her house, which is just swamp land, but if anybody else bought it, the only place to build a house is the dry area right up next to her back fence. Hick told his tale of HIS LAND that now has a driveway built on it, but nothing can be done about it.

FA goes home for lunch, or runs errands, and can't believe how many people are out and about in the stores and on the streets. Doesn't anybody have regular jobs anymore? And people have been complaining for over two weeks about not having any food because of the government shut down, but their money was not affected for October, so did they just not budget well? They haven't missed any payments yet. FA had a friend having problems, with three kids. FA told her she would help her kids, and to give her a list of what they needed. Stuff like toothbrushes and clothes. But she would not give her money, because she doesn't know if it would really benefit the kids.

FA uses a credit card to pay all her monthly bills, because of the perks like cash-back. Also, she uses coupons and looks for bargains online. She was ordering checks, for $179, and thought it was too much. She found a coupon code and got them for $17. Then told other people so they could get the discount.

FA had ordered furniture for the office from Wayfair. She had to put the chairs together herself. One of them was broken. A leg broke off while she was sitting on it, scooting back. She and her dad repaired it with a metal plate, and saw that it had been cracked from the beginning, with paint inside the crack. Wayfair said they would replace the chair. She said they didn't need to do that, since it was fixed, but they sent her another one anyway. Their main concern was if anybody was hurt when it broke.

FA went to the schools to give a presentation to seniors about financial planning. Before the visit, she asked them to write down how much they thought it would cost to live if they moved out on their own. And how much money they expected to make. Some estimated $1000 a month. One said $20,000! She wondered what kind of life that gal expected. Anyhoo... they hadn't thought about who would be paying their car insurance, gas, cell phone, TV, etc. So they realized that maybe it was better to try and get along with their parents' rules and live at home, rather than declaring they were moving out the minute they graduated or turned 18.

Anyhoo... all this chat went on between FA and Hick, while I basically sat and shivered. I have no ill will towards FA. She's very nice, and if I MUST sit and listen to nothing related to my financial accounts for an hour, I would choose her. This time, we didn't get out until 3:58!!! I was held overtime!

Oh, in the last five minutes, we did a transaction to take out my RMD (Required Minimum Distribution) from one account. 

Only 364 days until our next meeting...

The Yearly Chore

Oh, no! It's that time again! How could a year go by so fast? Maybe I should ask Hick, heh, heh. Since he lost a whole year in a couple minutes.

Monday, I got a call from the secretary at our financial advisor's office. She's a very nice lady. But I did NOT want to talk to her. Of course I answered. Money is involved!

"Hello. Don't tell me it's already that time again! Time for me to come in and sit for an hour and write down that RMD amount, which every year I swear I won't lose, and then call you in February to ask about it for my taxes. It seems like we were just there a couple weeks ago!"

"I know! I feel like the Grim Reaper, making these calls. But it IS time for you and Hick to come in again to review your accounts. Do you have a calendar ready?"

"No. I don't have a calendar, but I have a pen and a piece of scrap paper."

"How about Wednesday? At 2:30?"

"That should be fine. I don't know if Hick has any appointments, but I'll check with him and let you know."

"If it's not convenient, just give me a call, and we'll reschedule."

"I will. I guess I'll have to see you Wednesday..."

Poor gal. It's not her fault that we have to be advised of our investments once a year, and given the opportunity to make adjustments. How can money be so NEEDY??? It just sits there, all imaginary, numbers floating around the invisible waves of the innernets. Then a picture of those numbers gets printed out, and also viewed on a monitor. I just trust that it's there, in about the same amounts, from year to year.

IT'S TORTURE! We could be done in five minutes. But no. I suppose we get billed by the hour. Take it! Take your fee! Just don't hold me hostage for the whole hour!

Our financial advisor retired a couple years ago. He and Hick used to spend the time talking about collectible beer memorabilia, and guns, and real estate. While I was bored out of my mind. Now his daughter has taken over his business. She and Hick talk about guns and real estate. How fair is THAT? How dare she have the same interests as Hick!

Anyhoo... I hope I don't slip into a coma. I'd hate to miss a day of sharing my exciting life with you.

Hick is On-Call, 24/7/365

Hick is not raking in that windfall salary of less-than-$300-a-month by sitting on his rumpus. He is always available for the residents of the senior apartments. Even in his sleep! Monday morning, he revealed before leaving home at 6:00...

"I got a text from an old lady at 2:00 a.m. She don't know how to turn on the heat!"

"What? It's been down in the 40s at night all week. And she's just now asking how to turn on the heat? How hard can that be?"

"Not hard. It's baseboard heaters. They have a dial on each one to set it how hot you want. But I think hers has a thermostat on the wall for the ones in the living room and kitchen."

"Why would she wait until Sunday night at 2:00? Did she think you would rush right over?"

"I don't know."

"Well, why wouldn't she just ask one of her neighbors. That's easy enough. That's what I'd do. But not at 2:00 in the morning. And I'd do it after the first night I was cold! AND, I think I would know the purpose of a thermostat on the wall."

"You never know how them people think."

"Doesn't she get along with her neighbors?"

"Yeah, she gets along. When she's up. She's like you. She stays awake all night, and sleeps in the day. I'll go by this morning and show her how to turn on the heat."

When Hick got home that evening, I asked about the heat lady.

"I went there and knocked on the door, but she never answered. Then later, she sent me a text that she had it figured out, but that the heater in the bathroom didn't work. So I'll have to go by there tomorrow and take a look at it."

Gotta earn that salary!

Hick Has a Bud Light

If I didn't know better, I would think Hick is putting his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) above finishing Bargain House and getting it on the market! Not only did Hick hang a chandelier in his SUS2.5 this week, and put out his precious advertising sign shingle, but he also had a Bud light!

"New light I hung in shop today."

Oh my gosh! I TOLD you that you could probably find a Mogwai in that place! Where to start? Obviously, there's the Budweiser light that Hick hung. He said it's supposed to revolve, but that part of it is broken. Hope he got a discount, heh, heh!

I knew what the six black-handled things were, hanging from the ceiling. They're steels, for sharpening knives. You can't be the wife of a man who was in charge of a butcher-products-manufacturing company and not know that!

I asked about the horn-shaped thingies in front of the light. "Them's powder horns. For black powder rifles. You carry the powder in 'em, to load into the rifle to shoot." No idea if they are actual animal horns, or reproductions.

"What are those things on the right, that look like shoe soles?"

"They're for boots. What I wear on the back of my boots. What do you call those things? Cowboys use 'em to make their horse go faster. SPURS! That's what they are. They're spurs." [I'm glad Hick figured that out, because he doesn't wear boots anymore, and I have never, ever seen him wear spurs. Nor have I ever known him to ride a horse.]

"Why do you have a gun under the light? Is it old? Does it work?"

"It's a pop gun. Like a Daisy BB gun. But it don't shoot nothin'. It just makes a POP sound when you shoot it. Down below, on that sign with all the past sheriffs in the county, is another gun, but it ain't real. It might even be ceramic. It's just decoration made onto the frame of their pictures."

"What's that bright orange circle thing?"

"It's a light! I sell them. They're like emergency lights, for if your car breaks down or something. They give off all kinds of light. They flash, and they spiral."

"Whose head is in the picture?"

"Oh, that's just my buddy who came in while I was taking the picture."

I also see a deer head poking out behind the light, and a fish tail on the right side. Then there are three things hanging under the nose area of the deer head. I zoomed in on the picture, to take a look.

"What are those three things? Forks? They have two tine things, like forks."

"I don't know what you're talking about. There ain't no forks."

"On each side of that red and yellow thing that looks like a fishing bobber."

"Oh. Them's fishing lures."

"Why do they look like forks?"

"I don't know. They do, kind of. But they're all three fishing lures, just in different colors."

I guess maybe I needed one of the 2,347 pairs of binoculars to get a better view...

Hick Hangs His New Love

Be careful what you ask for, people! I have many years of experience requesting things from Hick, so I know how it goes. You rarely get exactly what you asked for. Hick told me he would send a picture of his precious new SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) sign when he hung it up. And he did.

It was before 7:00 a.m. Daylight Savings Time does not start until next weekend. So I got a picture of Hick's sign in the dark:

At least you can see how it hangs out from the front of the doorway. If I was out shopping at a flea market store in the dark, I'm not sure I would enter Hick's establishment. Maybe you can make out the two deer heads inside. Hick got them for decorations, but I'm sure he would sell them. This reminds me of the shop where the bad-inventor dad from Gremlins bought Gizmo, the Mogwai.

Of course I asked Hick for a picture in the daylight. So he sent me this one:

"Sign closed up to close garage door."

Well. That was not exactly what I meant. So I asked a THIRD time, for a picture of his sign hanging in the daylight.

Now we're back to Hick's typical panoramic view of almost everything but the intended subject of the photo. It was a rainy day, not Hick's fault. At least it IS daylight. But if you hadn't seen what the sign looked like before hanging, I doubt you would think it's anything besides a random piece of board, to "stand out" and draw attention, heh, heh.

Hick is Aging Rapidly

Hick has been planning to attend his all-school reunion on Saturday. The school was fairly small to begin with, and reunions for specific graduation years do not have many attendees. So for a while now, they've been holding an all-school reunion. Anybody who attended, no matter the graduation year, and not even if they graduated. 

Hick asked his friends, who had been new teachers when he was in high school, if they were going. The wife said, "No. Not this year. There are too many people that I just don't like, and now I'm at a point where I don't hold my tongue very well." Heh, heh! I know exactly how she feels!

Anyhoo... Hick also said he was driving two of the elderlies from the apartments.

"I'm not sure this one old guy will actually go. He's 87 years old. And the other gal rocked my world at lunch the other day. We were talking about when we were in school, and how we are getting old. She said something about her age, and I said, 'No, you're not that old. I went to school with you. You're just [AGE]. And she said, 'I was born in [YEAR]. So that makes me [AGE].' I got to thinkin', and she was right! All this time I've been thinkin' I was [AGE] years old, but I'm really a year older!"

Heh, heh! I can't wait until Hick's birthday in December, and he realizes he has aged 2 YEARS in only two months.

Hick is a FreebieLoader

Hick and Old Buddy did not work on Bargain House on Thursday. Yes, I'm sure that comes as a shock to you, but not to me. Hick had a paid job for our former Backcreek Neighbors Nick and Bev. They live even farther out in the middle of nowhere now. So far there's no phone service. I don't even know what this job entailed. Sometimes it's easier not to sit through one of Hick's "hicksplanations."

Anyhoo... Hick told me later that Nick offered him a lawnmower.

"I come out to get my trailer around 7:00. I figured as long as I was going out there, I might as well bring back the lawnmower. He said I could have if I wanted it. He wasn't using it."

After a bit of cross-examination, I found out more.

"So he didn't give it to you in place of payment? Because it's going to be hard to give Old Buddy some parts of that lawnmower to pay for his help, heh, heh!"

"Nah. Nick paid me. And gave me the lawnmower, too."

"How much is it worth?"

"What's it worth? Let's see... $250 if it runs."

"Wait! It doesn't even work?"

"Not right now. I have to take a look at it. I have no idea what's wrong."

So basically, Hick took a junk lawnmower off Nick's hands, so he doesn't have to find a way to get rid of it. Anymore.

If anybody can make a lawnmower run, it's Hick. I think T-Hoe's oil change just moved down one notch on Hick's schedule.

Hick's Self-Help Goes Awry

The weather has cooled off, with temperatures dropping into the 40s overnight. Hick and Old Buddy arrived at Bargain House on Monday morning. The NEW furnace wasn't running! Hick called the company that installed it, run by one of his buddies, of course. They sent someone right over.

"For a price, I'm sure!"

"No. They didn't charge nothin'. They found a vacuum hose loose, and hooked it up. It was running when I left, kicking on and off. I'm pretty sure that's all that was wrong with it."

Right after they put it in, I had looked at it. They left a wire clamp off. So I put the wire through and clamped it. I guess while I was doing that, maybe I knocked the vacuum hose loose. But they got it all fixed up."

"You didn't tell them you were messing with it, did you?"

"No! They don't need to know that!"

"So it might have worked if you didn't 'maybe' knock the vacuum hose loose?"

"Yeah. I don't know why it wouldn't of. But still, that wire needed to be clamped."

"But you didn't call them about it when you saw it."

"No. It's just a minor thing. I always look at the work people have done. To see if they did it right. It was easy to fix, so I did it myself."

"And messed up something else, heh, heh!"

"Maybe..."

Anyhoo... the furnace is working at Bargain House.

Another Notch in Hick's Bargain House Belt

Hick has been spreading himself thin these days, and progress on Bargain House has suffered. He DID get the new electric box installed and approved by the electric company. This week, Hick and Old Buddy have been working on the underside of the back porch roof. You may recall that they closed in part of the original back porch to create a laundry/mud room.

That's the state of the under-roof when they started on Monday. I guess you would technically call this a ceiling. On the right is the wall that formed the laundry/mud room.

Here it is completely covered. Nothing that takes a lot of skill. Just mundane fixes that must be done, which take up time. Time which amounts to about 3 hours a day, four days a week, which Hick can spare from is everything-but-Bargain-House schedule.

This is from Wednesday morning, as the sun was coming up. Looks like Hick had to use the light he installed, when putting some trim over the seams. Heh, heh! Since Hick wants things that "draw attention" to the house, maybe he should have hung his chandelier that he put in his storage unit! Makes just as much sense here.

I asked Hick if he was going to paint this "ceiling," perhaps white, to brighten things up. He said no, he didn't plan on painting it. It's just a back porch.

One Man's Junk Brings Other Men's Junk

Hick spent Tuesday afternoon putting a light in one of his storage units. It's not his main storage unit store, the SUS2.5. It's not even the first storage unit store, which is next door. No, Hick put a light in his STORAGE storage unit. It's farther away. 

There's no such thing as a simple answer to a simple question when it comes to Hick's activities. He sent me a picture:

"My light I hung in locker."

"Fancy light for a storage unit."

"It was free. It will get a lot of attention."

Of course I had to get more info when Hick came home.

"Where did you get that chandelier for free?"

"It was in my office at the apartments. That and a big lamp and a lot of stuff. My boss told me to clean it out, that it was all junk, and he didn't care where it went."

"So that's not in your main store."

"No. It's in the one next to Old Buddy. He watches it for me. In fact, I give him 20% of anything he sells. I figure he'll watch the stuff closer if he makes something off of it."

"How many storage units do you have???"

"Three. This one was mainly for storage, but now I have too much stuff, so I sell some of it there."

"You need to STOP! You have way too much junk!"

"I cain't stop, Val. I have to buy more stuff."

"WHY? Just sell what you have, and get down to one unit. Then you don't have to pay for three."

"People bring me stuff, Val!"

"That doesn't mean you have to BUY it!"

"Yes I do! Or they won't sell to me. Like today, I had a guy bring me four fishing poles that were worth $50 apiece. But I got them for $15 apiece, because he had other stuff he wanted to sell. A minnow trap, and two tin men."

"WHAT? So you bought his junk to get the fishing poles? How much did you spend?"

"I gave him $75. I told him it was $15 for the fishing poles, and then I give him another $15 for the rest of it."

"So you paid about $19 for each fishing pole, and took some junk off his hands. What are tin men?"

"Men about two feet tall. Made out of tin cans bolted together."

Yeah. Because that's what people are shopping for these days, I guess. Hick is more likely to sell his FREE chandelier!

"What if somebody wants to buy your light? Would you sell it?"

"Yeah. I'd sell it to them. I'd have to get at least $150 for it."

That would be a pretty good profit for junk. But I don't know if Hick is considering the cost of that extra storage unit every month. I wonder if he sells enough stuff from there to justify the rent. I don't dare bring that up. It's Hick's money...

Hick's Smallest SUS2.5 Shopper

Hick sent me a picture from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) on Sunday afternoon. I had hoped it was the very special sign that he adores so much. But no. It was just a customer. Not that Hick having a customer is such a rare occurrence that he needs to take a photo, heh, heh. He was mainly wanting to show me the customer's companion.

Hick included the caption: "What Jack needs."

I didn't have my glasses. At first I thought it was a little dog wearing an Air Force bomber jacket, with aviator glasses. I thought Hick was holding the dog, and a sword. I figured maybe the customer was trading in a sword for merchandise, since Hick is a well-known barterer. It wasn't until later that evening, when I looked at the photo again, and talked to Hick, that I figured it out.

That's not Hick, but a customer. He's wearing his chihuahua in a bag, which has a U.S. Army logo. There's no sword. It's just the edge of Hick's glass case that is used as a countertop. No aviator sunglasses for that doggie, but "hippie" sunglasses instead. Always wear your glasses, people, before jumping to conclusions, heh, heh!

Hick asked the guy if he could take a picture. Said he wouldn't show his face.

No, my little dog Jack does NOT need anything in that picture. 

He wouldn't wear the sunglasses. And anybody trying to lug him around in a pouch would suffer back problems, because Jack is a sturdy 20+ pounds of solid dog flesh.

It's a cute picture, though.

Hick's Demand Has Dwindled

Hick has not been getting calls from the elderlies lately. I suppose he has met their needs for now. Perhaps they are even taking his advice to get along with each other! 

The last thing Hick fixed was a toilet. Actually, he didn't FIX it, so much as REPLACE it.

"This one gal asked me if she could get a handicap toilet. The tall kind. She said she has trouble getting up from the old one, because it's too low for her. I said that we could probably do that, but I'd have to run it by my boss. Now that we have more money, it shouldn't be a problem."

A few days later, Hick said that it was approved, and he had put in the new toilet.

"She's real happy with her toilet. But NOW she's asking for something else. She wants to know if I can get her a water purifier! I told her probably not. But that I'd ask. I doubt it will be approved. She can buy bottled water if she's so worried about it."

I can understand why that old lady would ask for a water purifier. I don't know how long she's lived there, or in this area in general. My $17,000 house was just two blocks away from the senior apartments. The city water is fine for drinking, but sometimes it has a rusty color. I suppose that's from old pipes, and the hard water in this locale. After all, it DOES sit on top of the lead mines. 

Anyhoo... it used to be a problem sometimes on Saturdays. I don't know why it was always that day of the week. But it was when I wanted to do laundry. I had to make sure the water was running clear before I did a load of whites. 

The Pony also lives a few blocks away. He has bemoaned the loss of our well water for drinking purposes. But again, the water is safe. When it's not, like when there's a broken pipe, the city sends out a BOIL alert. Nobody is going to be poisoned by the water, but at times, it is less than appealing to look at.

No further word on that old gal's water purifier. With Hick's luck, she might be approved for a water cooler thingy, and Hick will have to haul giant bottles of water to it!

Maybe with all his "free" time now, Hick can get an oil change for T-Hoe. D'ya think?

A Sign of the Hick

Hick took his beloved sign to his SUS2.5 on Thursday! That's a day earlier than he told me he wanted it. Said the guy would be there, to get it coated with polyurethane. And that he needed to put two holes in it, to hang it. I asked where he was going to put it.

"I cain't hang it on my walls."

"Why, is there some rule? I thought you already had things hanging on your walls."

"I cain't, because of the garage door."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Because when I close up, the garage door comes down over the walls."

"Still, I don't get it."

"You cain't understand nothin'! I want the sign on my door."

"Why can't you put it on your door?"

"Because, Val, the garage door comes down!"

"Not while you're there doing business!"

"I have to hang it on an arm. To swing out."

"Not getting it. Is the sign supposed to poke out? Perpendicular?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Here. Let me draw a picture!"

Hick scribbled on the back of an envelope, with a bunch of numbers already on it. Of course I couldn't tell what he drew.

"Not helping me."

"Val! Look at the clock over there! That's my door. And look at our door. That's my garage door. The sign will be LIKE THIS!"

I could not understand Hick's gesticulations.

"Do you mean it's poking out?"

"It's on an ARM, Val! It will swing out!"

"Okay. So it's perpendicular. That's what I asked."

"It will be on a bar that will swing out. Then I'll swing it back, so the garage door can come down."

"I think I get it now."

Do you? I guess the sign will be hanging on a bar, poking out from Hick's door, so people walking by will see it. The polyurethane coating will make it waterproof. The bits of color will attract attention. It seems to be the right kind of sign to appeal to Hick's outdoorsmen kind of customers.

Maybe Hick can get a picture when he has the sign hanging.

Val Is Mad as Not-Heaven, and She's Gonna Take it Some More

My daily trip to town is quite hazardous. You'd think town would be the safest part of my drive. In civilization, with smooth pavement wide enough for two vehicles to pass, lanes clearly marked, and traffic signals to control the vehicular flow. But you'd be wrong! I'm actually safer on the narrow gravel road with deep ditches washed out along the sides, and big rocks poking out, and trees preventing any escape.

There's a four-way intersection where the Gas Station Chicken Store sits on one corner, the Liquor Store across from it, Dairy Queen across from the Liquor Store, and a car dealer lot across from Dairy Queen. It's a BIG intersection. Wide. Takes a while to get through it. 

PEOPLE RUN THE RED LIGHT DAILY!

Yes. I'm sure it must be hard to believe that the yahoos of Backroads do not obey basic traffic laws. But it's true! Every day, coming and going, I observe drivers running through the red light. Not just a yellow. The RED light. That means STOP, you know! Because other directions are getting a green light, which means go.

Here's an old picture of the intersection:

You can see that this intersection is about 4 car-lengths wide. That's the Gas Station Chicken Store on the upper right, and the car lot on the upper left. The turn-in to the Liquor Store is on the right, and that's Dairy Queens grassy area on the left.

Anyhoo... I was in this lane this week, first car at the red light, in front of where that truck and trailer are in this old picture. I was waiting to make a left turn to head towards home. I can see the other traffic signals from there. So I can see when they turn yellow, then red. Believe me, I watch those signals. I also watch the cars passing through, because I can't just rely on my own green arrow to tell me when I can go. I have to make sure I won't get bashed by a red-light-runner. It shouldn't have to be this way. I'm sure the drivers understand what a red light means, and it's NOT "Gas it and speed through!"

Anyhoo... I was idling in T-Hoe, waiting my rightful opportunity to proceed through the intersection with a green arrow, watching the signal lights for cross traffic. They turned yellow, then red. A white minivan sped through where that red truck is in this picture, but going the opposite direction. THEN a small white SUV coming from in front of the Gas Station Chicken Store made a left turn directly in front of me. His yellow arrow had already turned to a red circle. Yet still, he drove through. 

My light was already a green arrow as this guy was turning his small white SUV in front of T-Hoe. He was at my left front bumper when I honked. It was not the long "Take your head out of your rumpus and brace yourself because I'm about to slam into you" honk. No. It was three short honks. The "I know you're breaking the law, Rumpushole" honk.

This guy had the audacity to look me right in the eye, with an "How dare you have the audacity to honk at me!" look on his face. He kind of looked like Richard Dreyfuss in his Down and Out in Beverly Hills phase. I've never really liked Richard Dreyfuss.

Anyhoo... since he was going the opposite direction, and there are those lights to deal with, I felt pretty sure that he wouldn't have time to catch me and engage in road rage. Where are the cops when you need them? Not out giving handicap parking tickets, that's for sure! They could sit at this intersection throught the day, and bring it a boatload of traffic ticket money for Backroads.

Meanwhile, as self-appointed Lieutenant of the Karens Causing Chaos Street Patrol, Val will continue to draw attention to those people she deems worthy of a good scolding by car horn.

The Inundation

On Saturday, Hick's typical shortcut ways flooded my kitchen floor. Okay. Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Hick, left to his own devices to add a dill pickle spear to his BBQ pork chop supper, forwent the fork that I recommended.

"I think I can get a pickle out of a jar, Val."

"I don't want your dirty fingers in the juice! Get a fork."

"I'm fine. There's one right here. See?"

Yes, I DID see. I saw Hick tilting that pickle jar, and the liquid running all to one side. There were only three pickles left. Of course they were down in the juice, though Hick declared there was one NOT in the juice, which he grabbed with his fingers.

The next morning, my CROC stuck to the floor. Right in front of FRIG II! There was a triangular stain, kind of grayish green. That's what happens when I think Hick is capable of getting his own pickle out of a jar. 

The next morning, around 10:30, my attention was drawn to that area. Just because I wanted to see if I had cleaned the floor sufficiently. Or if it was collecting dirt off Hick's boots, and needed further scrubbing.

WHAT'S THIS???

There was a puddle of water in front of FRIG II! It had not been there around 5:00 a.m. when I added ice to my metal water bottle. But the icemaker had been making a clicky noise, and I knocked loose a stuck cube from the slots. It ricocheted and shot out onto the floor. But I had picked it up. Maybe there was more that one. But surely not enough to make that puddle. I mopped it up with a towel and kept an eye on the area.

I mentioned it to Hick that evening. Asked if he might have spilled something there around 6:00 when gathering his lunch. No. He had not gotten any water or ice, and had just put his frozen sandwich and chips in his bag.

The next day, the water puddle was back! Same time I noticed, around 10:30, when I was getting some oatmeal and a banana. Again, I mopped it up with a towel. It was only about half as much as before. That evening, I asked Hick if maybe it was something to do with the icemaker. The water hose that feeds it.

"It COULD. Maybe. If the ice maker was clogged up and not working."

"Well. That was only the one day. I can't figure out why it doesn't leak all day. Only around mid-morning."

The THIRD day, I was on the lookout for that water leak. The floor was dry when I got ice. Dry when I took my medicine. I did the dishes about 9:30. WAIT! My CROC was squeaking as I turned to dry my hands when I finished. I looked down. 

THERE WAS A THIN STREAM OF WATER RUNNING FROM THE CABINET UNDER THE SINK TOWARDS FRIG II!

Aha! It was the SINK that was leaking. I looked underneath, but didn't see any drips. Felt the pipes. Not wet. Was this a problem with water coming in? Or water going out? Was it just the hot water? I run water in the sink all through the day. But it didn't leak except in the morning, when I used hot water for the dishes.

When Hick got home, I explained my discovery. I had left the towel down, rather than washing it this time, in case Hick needed to research that leak. He got down on the floor, and stuck his head under the sink. HE thought it was the lever thingy that turns on the water. Nope. I ran hot water. I ran cold water. Nothing. Then I said maybe I should fill the sink, and then pull the plug. THAT'S what made the pipes leak!

I stuck the plug back in, and Hick grunted under the sink. He said it was the collar thingy on the drain. That there's a flat side and a threaded side, and the collar squeezes it tight. That it had somehow become loose. None of that made sense to me. I know better than to try and get a better explanation from Hick. Don't even get me started on the hanging of the sign for his SUS2.5!

Anyhoo... Hick said to let the rest of the water out. The sink no longer leaked.

I'd like to take credit for discovering what was leaking. But I'm just the middlewoman. Hick brought it to my attention with his unrelated pickle juice spill, and fixed the final problem.

Hick Calls It Done

Hick's new love is ready to be clear-coated with polyurethane! I used the colored pencils to fill in the portions as he instructed. It looks unfinished to me, but I suppose it meets Hick's conditions of "standing out more" with a bit of color.

I don't know why the lettering shows an orange hue. It must be something to do with my phone camera. In real life, there is no orange at all in the lettering, and I certainly did not use the colored pencil there. What you may not realize, and I did not know until last night, was that the other side of the sign is also engraved like this! So... there are two rifles and knives on this side, and also two rifles and knives on the opposite side of the board.

For now, I am awaiting my chastisement or congratulations when Hick gets home to critique my efforts. Oh, come on! We all know that only one of those pronouncements will be forthcoming...

Why Didn't He Say So?

You may recall Hick's new love, the sign a buddy made for his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). Hick still caresses it every evening. He bought colored pencils for me to use. I have been in no hurry. Hick never gave me a time limit. I am loathe to start this project without Hick looking over my shoulder. I would hate to bespoil his darling.

Anyhoo... with Hick finally home at the same time, when I wasn't busy cooking his supper, or scratching my lottery tickets, I said, "Maybe tomorrow I can color your sign, if you're here to show me exactly what you want."

Hick was holding his precious at the time. He ran his hand over the surface. "Yeah. My buddy won't take the money until he gets it done, with the polyurethane coating."

Welp! Nobody told me some innocent guy's money was held up until I did my coloring! Making Hick wait is one thing. But a businessman should not have his payment delayed.

Hick has tried the colored pencils, to see if that's the result that he wants. He thinks so.

Hick says he wants it colored lightly, not with a lot of pressure. Probably to make the gun stock, which he plans to be orange, look like wood grain. I'm not sure why Hick tried purple. He has said he just wants the wooden parts of the rifle, and the handle of the knife colored. To make the sign stand out more. He had originally said he wanted red for the knife handle.

Anyhoo... knowing Hick's communication style, and how infatuated he is with his new love, I'm sure you can understand why I won't start this little project unless he's RIGHT HERE to boss me around. The whole process will probably take less than 15 minutes. It's just the finality of it that makes me feel the pressure!

The Weirdo Dam Has Broken

Three weirdos in four days! Seems like old times. The weirdo dam has broken, and Val is caught in the deluge. A stalking little girl on Thursday, a leather Johnny Depp parking-lot moonwalker on Saturday, and then Sunday's strange encounter at the Liquor Store.

Let the record show that I stop in for scratchers once a week at the Liquor Store. I'd go more, but they're often out of my favorites. Technically, it's a smoke shop, mainly selling cigarettes and vapes and "heavy" soda. It has a drive-thru window. The major part of the store is filled with shelves of assorted hard liquor, and we've always just referred to it as the Liquor Store. They have four or five of those fake slot machines that are considered "games of not chance." I've never played them, though Hick does at other venues.

The Liquor Store has always seemed a bit shady to me. No real reason, other than cars in the parking lot, but no customers visible inside. In my mind, they have a secret back room where they hold illegal poker games. Or maybe they deal in loan-sharking. 

Anyhoo... I was standing at the counter, trading scratcher winners for what turned out to be scratcher losers, when I saw a man approach the clear double doors. He was a medium-size, medium-age man, with medium-length medium-color hair. He was wearing medium-faded jeans with a medium brown t-shirt. Mr. Medium had two dogs on a loooong bright-orange lead, which was spliced to a black leash or rope.

The dogs were not big dogs, but overly-medium. One looked like a black lab mix, young and inquisitive. The other was obviously mostly pit-bull, in the standard pit-bull brown color. 

Mr. Medium unhooked the dogs from the lead, and opened up the door, leaving the long orange flat rope thingy lying in front of the door, strewn along the blacktop ramp/entrance area. They all came inside. The lab ran up to me, sturdy tail wagging, sniffing my right knee. I'm not afraid of dogs. I even greeted them with, "Hi, doggies!" And to be fair, that knee had just been anointed with the very special cream that The Pony got me for medicinal purposes. The pit walked on by, giving me a cursory look.

My attention was on picking scratchers, because they were out of a couple, and this was a new girl working. I lost track of Mr. Medium and his dogs. Then I heard the gal working the drive-thru window, who was out of sight behind shelves of cigarettes, exclaim: "Whoa! You touched my butt and surprised me!" New Girl giggled. I at first thought somebody might be working back there with Window Gal, but then guessed it was maybe Mr. Medium, or one of the dogs.

Mr. Medium suddenly popped up behind me, saying he hoped I won on every ticket. So it wasn't him. He was friendly enough. But he didn't act like he knew the people working there. 

What's up with that? How can a guy just walk into a Liquor Store with two dogs off a leash? That doesn't seem like a good business policy! They had no harnesses or vests proclaiming them to be service dogs. Mr. Medium had left the leash like a trap to snare the feet of elderlies who might be stocking up on their tobacco or vape or alcohol needs, or possibly seeking an under-the-table loan, or wishing to gamble.

Some weirdos raise more questions than concerns...