It's a Wrap!

Now that Thanksgiving 2025 is over, we have delicious food lolling about in FRIG II. It's not going to eat itself! I had a bit of inspiration, sitting on the short couch Friday mid-morning. I usually have two main meals a day. "Breakfast," which might come at noon, and consists of a banana and bowl of Maple Brown Sugar instant oatmeal. The other is "supper," which is around 9:00, after Hick has been fed and put to bed, and my scratchers have been scratched.

Why should I go back to my standard breakfast when these leftovers are clamoring to be consumed? My early meal can just as well be called "lunch." I'm not one for making a Frankenstein of a sandwich with turkey, stuffing, green beans, and cranberry sauce. But I figured out a way to make a tasty combo.

It's a WRAP! I had some large flour tortillas on the counter. Sure, they're past the use-by date. But do tortillas ever go bad? Not in this house! I used bacon left from roasting the vegetables, some turkey breast, and my 7 Layer Salad.

Yes, that's a giant burrito-size tortilla. It's bigger than the plate. Mmm... I gotta say, The Pony was repulsed by this idea, because of the peas in the salad. But it was delicious! Perhaps a little dry. Next time I might add some green olives, which I had on the side, and added a little tang.

Hick would not appreciate such a culinary delight. He'll get the conventional version of the leftovers. As will I, for supper.

Thevictorians Strap On the Feedbag

It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without Val's 7 Layer Salad!

I almost hated to dig into it. Almost. Romaine lettuce, green onions, boiled eggs, peas, mayo, shredded cheddar, and bacon.

Hick had his plate filled and was sitting down to eat before I came back to kitchen upon announcing it was ready. The Pony got a picture before Hick began feeding.

As you can see, Hick prefers ham to turkey. And doesn't mind his foods touching.

The Pony forgot the deviled eggs, and had to go back!

The Pony loves (Stove Top) stuffing and the "vinchtables." Even tried the hash brown potatoes this year, though they were left from our last holiday meal, and unfrozen this time.

Can you believe The Pony eschewed my 7 Layer Salad to make a plainer version??? And that pan of Sister Schubert's Rolls belongs to The Pony. Hick and I had our own.

It's Thanksgiving, and I believe in turkey. So I had a turkey leg!

It was a bit tendon-y, as are all turkey legs, but I enjoyed gnawing on it and waving it about. The Pony said I belonged at a Renaissance Fair. I also had a scrap of ham, deviled egg, hash brown potatoes, roll, green beans with ham, and roasted vegetables. And the star of my meal, the 7 Layer Salad.

Dessert was an Oreo Cake. Hick and The Pony love it. Me, not so much.

It's not the prettiest cake I ever made, but I'm sure the flavor was all that mattered to the feasters. It looks a little better from the top.

I was planning to have a bit of Hick's anniversary cookie for dessert.

Turns out I was too full of turkey leg and salad. No room for dessert. I'll try again tomorrow.

The Pony left with a box full of leftovers. FRIG II is as stuffed as I am. 

A Different Kind of Creepy

Strange things used to happen around our house. Often. For the past couple years, the unexplained noises and occasional jab in the neck and toiletries shooting across the bathroom have pretty much stopped. I suppose our lives are too boring for the paranormals to hang around.

Sunday morning, Hick left for his SUS2.5 shortly after 6:00. I gave The Pony a wakeup call at 7:00. Then I sat on the couch, planning to snooze a bit until 8:30, when I would get ready for town. I would be picking up The Pony to shop for a couple items, then come back home to listen to an album release online.

During my couch time, I heard what I thought was booming bass from a passing vehicle. Or maybe somebody with a tractor blading the gravel road. Just an unusual noise that got my attention enough to mute the TV and try to figure out what it was. Also, my little dog Jack had a bout of scrabbling his claws on the front porch in a cartoonish hurry to chase something. Which was shortly after a spate of barking that was more urgent than his bark at our unwanted new possum visitor.

I didn't really fret about it. This was something that doesn't happen every day. But we live in the country. People are gonna make noise with vehicles, and dogs are gonna bark.

At 9:30, I started out to the garage. I was greeted by a strange sight:

What in the NOT-HEAVEN!!! It was Hick's fake Irish Setter. He also has a fake Scottie, and a fake Basset Hound. This Irish Setter usually sits on the porch at the top of the steps, to my right. 

As an old Val who is unsteady on her knees, this was an unwanted obstacle. I get down these steps sideways, one leg at a time, while holding onto the rail with both hands. This fake dog was right in my way. I'd have to stop and lean over to grab it. But there was no other way to get to the garage, save going back through the house, out the front, down those steps, and navigating a large "L" shape of that uneven brick sidewalk.

Of course I started rassen-frassen whoever put this obstacle in my way. I couldn't imagine Hick doing so. Even though he has many creative nontraceable ways to try to kill me, I didn't think this was one. I managed to move the dog back to the porch. While in town, waiting for The Pony to come out, I sent Hick a text and the picture.

"Did you put the dog on the steps?"

"Nope."

"How? It didn't fall like that! Were any of your people out here?"

"I have no idea and no one that I know has been out there."

This is really creepy. I don't for an instant think something paranormal moved this fake dog. I could imagine giant squirrels chasing each other, and knocking it off the porch. I CANNOT imagine this fake dog falling just right, to be sitting there on the bottom step in my way.

I think somebody was here. WHY? There was no knock. And why be around on the side porch? If they were snooping to break in, I should have heard them walking on the porch. Or if they were tippy-toeing, going around back to look in the kitchen windows, and saw and/or heard the TV... surely they would have left no evidence of being there as they crept away.

This is creepy, and I don't like it! I want an explanation. A prank, perhaps, by one of Hick's buddies, who might have stopped by and seen that his truck was gone. 

That's the best possible scenario that I can imagine.

A Happy Turkey Day for the Elderlies

Hick was pleasantly surprised when he received his turkey dinner tray at the Senior Center on Tuesday. He had been carrying on about how they BOILED THE TURKEYS, and were going to serve it shredded. Looks like Hick was out of the loop. Oh, he indeed pulled all of the boiled turkeys out of the pots for the cooks the day before. But it looks like the turkeys were not totally shredded. Perhaps they had meant the dark meat. 

Hick's tray looked quite appetizing, even though I don't like anything on it but the turkey.

I don't see any cranberry sauce, which was on the menu. But Hick doesn't like it anyway, so might have declined. Also, it looks like there are sweet potatoes, which were NOT on the menu. And I don't see a roll. Hick definitely got a generous slice of pecan pie. I'm pretty sure it helps to be "Cooks' Pet."

In other news, even though I already have my Cornish game hens for our Thanksgiving meal... I will let them cool their heels in my mini freezer for another time. Because I found a REAL TURKEY that I figured I could deal with.

It's fully cooked! I don't have to do anything but warm it! Which means Hick will carve it the night before, and I will just warm up pieces of it, along with the ham Hick will slice the night before. Takes up less room in the oven that the sides can use. 

Anyhoo... I found this Butterball on Errand Day with The Pony. It was the only one of its kind. I nabbed it right away. It's 11 pounds. No neck and no giblets. I will gnaw on a leg, and Hick and The Pony can use some of the white meat for sandwiches. That's how they eat it. We are not gravy-makers.

Sure, I will eventually love my Cornish hens. But this was my chance for real turkey on Thanksgiving. A more elderly-friendly version. No toting it across the kitchen for rinsing, and wrestling it into a pan to hopefully not drop it from my arthritic hands while balancing on my arthritic knees.

All I've accomplished so far (Tuesday at 11:30 a.m.) is to boil 30 eggs. The Pony will come out Wednesday and Thursday to help, by fetching ingredients while I combine them, and to check (and taste) the dishes we have simmering.

Hick says, "You don't have to go to all that trouble for me."

You know he secretly is happy that we are.

The Less You Know

Hick was all excited about the Thanksgiving dinner that will be served on Tuesday at the Senior Center. 

Turkey & Dressing

Green Bean Casserole

Cranberry Sauce

Roll

Pumpkin or Pecan Pie

Yes, Hick was really looking forward to it. Until Monday. When he was called back to the kitchen after eating that day's lunch of:

Chili

Grilled Cheese

Wedges

Crackers

Muffin or Fruit

Hick was called back by his "girls" who do the cooking. They were getting things ready for the big Thanksgiving dinner the next day. Cooking the turkeys. Hick was SHOCKED!

"They BOILED the turkeys! They're going to shred them. So they'll serve it like pulled pork."

"Well, it seems that would be way faster than baking the turkeys. How many were there?"

"At least seven. Maybe more. They were all in separate pots. The girls couldn't lift them out! I could barely lift them myself. I used a shovel. Well, not really a shovel. I big spoon, about six inches in diameter. And with a handle two feet long."

"What did you do, put the spoon in the cavity to lift them out?"

"No. I put the spoon under them."

"You balanced a whole turkey on a six-inch spoon???"

"That was two feet long. And I did seven of them. Or however many there were. It wasn't easy! Them girls could never have done it. One of 'em's really short. Her nose was about in the pot of water."

"Well, I'm sure it will be good. They'll probably give you extra for helping them!"

"I just can't believe they boiled the turkeys!"

That said, Hick also revealed that he probably won't want any supper Tuesday night. Because he'll be full of turkey.

Bargain House Gets a Little Attention

Hick managed to fit some time in for Bargain House last week, in-between catering to the elderlies at the apartments. He worked on the laundry room, which is the portion he added at the back by closing in part of the porch. It's just inside the back door. This picture was taken from the door to the kitchen, I think. Which used to just go out on the back porch.

This was Wednesday. "Laundry sink installed and starting on flooring." Hick asked how I liked the laundry sink. I'm pretty sure he regretted that question.

"I don't! Nobody wants a laundry sink these days. I didn't want one when you built our house! But you put it in anyway. At least this time, you haven't put it between the washer and dryer. I guess it's okay. People could use it to give a small pet a bath."

I told Hick it looked like the floor was torn up by one of the laundry sink legs. He said no, that it was just stuff not swept up from putting up the drywall.

This was from Thursday. "Floor down." You can see the little window beside the door. The shelves are temporary. Hick needs that wall open while running the electrical wiring to the kitchen. Once done, it will become a regular wall like the others.

Also on Thursday, Hick put Old Buddy to work tearing out the old kitchen cabinets. I'm pretty sure Hick also ripped things out. It's not like him to stand and watch Old Buddy work.

"Cabinets coming out." Hick says he plans to put in white cabinets, because they seem to be the style now. He's getting everything from Lowe's, to get his big discount, rather than looking for cabinets and a countertop on Buy/Sell/Trade like he's done in the past.

The Pony and I will be glad when Bargain House is finally done. Though we don't feel right about complaining while we sit on our rumpuses and let Hick do all the work.

Feasting With Genius

Thevictorians had a night out on Friday. Genius was passing through the metropolitan area on his way to an event for a college buddy on Saturday. We met for supper near the city, at Frankie Gianino's. I had not heard of this place. I was content to eat at Bandana's BBQ, our usual meeting place. Can you believe I was OUTVOTED??? For Italian food. Of which I am not a fan, except for pizza. I wanted my standard "terrible tater" and slaw. But who am I to demand that they all bow to my wishes?

I was thrilled when I looked up the menu Genius linked us, and saw that this place also has SLAW!!! I was fully committed to having a REUBEN and slaw. Or perhaps pizza. I was less than thrilled to see the prices, but it's not like we have supper with Genius every day. Once or twice a year, it's okay to splurge.

It's not like this is a fine dining establishment. It's a bar/restaurant in a strip mall. As the habit of most elderlies, we dined early. Of course, that had to do with Genius's arrival, and the rainy night for our 50-minute drive home. We met at 4:00, and were seated right away. When we left around 5:30, there were people waiting. I guess they were all meeting their sons coming in from Pittsburgh!

Anyhoo... we started with an appetizer of fried mushrooms. I love them, and used to have them at W.F. Cody's in Springfield, MO, during college. Hick and Genius chose them. I forgot to get a picture when they came out, and by the time I remembered, they were mostly devoured.

The mushrooms came with horseradish sauce. I guess there were 10-12 mushrooms. I had one. The Pony doesn't really like mushrooms, but tried two. Hick and Genius made sure they didn't go to waste.

Genius chose the Pollo Alfredo. The portions were HUGE!

It looks like the stuff I make at home! Only better, of course. It had fettuccini, chicken, mushrooms, and peas. I asked if the noodles tasted like they were made fresh, and Genius said he didn't think so.

Hick had the Fettuccini Alfredo.

After pushing away from the trough, Hick said he thought his had too much cheese. And he was disappointed, because he expected at least a couple piece of chicken. To which Genius and I stared at him, and said, "You should have gotten the POLLO Alfredo. THAT means CHICKEN!" 

The Pony had the Pesto Spaghetti.

The Pony said it was great. I tried a bite,  and regretted it! Apparently, I am not a fan of pesto! It was overwhelming to me. In fact, for a couple hours I regretted it. A burp made me feel like I had been grazing all afternoon in a 40-acre field. I guess it was the basil to which I object.

I switched my Reuben plan at the last moment, and ordered the Chicken Strip Dinner. 

That's because it came with fries AND slaw. Whereas the Reuben only gave me a choice of either. Yes. I felt like I was ordering off a child's menu. So basic. To go out and spend a fortune on chicken tenders and fries. It came with honey mustard sauce, and I had to ask for ketchup for the fries. Such a classy place, heh, heh, to not have a bottle of ketchup sitting on the tables. I ate three of the tenders, and gave one to The Pony (the smallest!). Plus I allowed The Pony as many fries as desired. The slaw was delicious. All for me!

We had an enjoyable visit. Each of us took at least half the meal home. Genius donated his to us, because he said he had no use for it in his hotel room. I would have sent it with The Pony, but the mushrooms and peas put the kibosh on that plan. So now Hick and I have leftovers for Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Speaking of the leftovers... on the way home, Hick again groused about not having any chicken in his Fettuccini Alfredo.

"There was too much cheese."

"I don't have any pasta on hand to mix in with it, to thin out the cheese."

"Do you have any of that canned white meat chicken? That would be good in it."

"No. I don't have any. I can go to the store and get some."

"You don't have to do that. How about mushrooms? Do we have any mushrooms?"

"Yes. And I have peas in the freezer."

"That would be good. If you could put some mushrooms and peas in it."

"Okay. I have frozen chicken patties..."

"Yeah. That would work!"

"The coating will come off when I cut them up."

"That don't matter. That will be good!"

So now Hick has a container that almost won't close, with a can of mushrooms, three chicken patties, and a third of a bag of peas added to his leftover Fettuccini Alfredo. He says I can have Genius's leftover Pollo Alfredo. After tasting all three, I verify that it was the best of the pastas. But I have to get through those chicken tenders first. They were crispy and moist. I'll make some dipping sauce with garlic aioli, ground brown mustard, regular mustard, hot Chinese mustard, and horseradish.

We will feast on these leftovers, and then something simple for Tuesday and Wednesday, while I start preparing the Thanksgiving foods.

Let's Find One More Job for Val to Do

Hick enjoys staying busy, with assorted tasks and multifaceted do-gooding and numerous money-making ventures. I do not like staying busy. I have my routine. I'm set in it. I don't profit monetarily. I don't need recognition. In fact, I sometimes RESENT (hard to believe, isn't it?) taking care of the bills and paperwork that come with Hick's SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) and the various flip houses. My miniscule responsibilities are nothing compared to Hick's activities. But he enjoys "work," and I do not.

NOW I'M A METER READER!

It's not something I applied for. It doesn't even pay less than $300 a month. And Hick has to help me. Sure, it's only once a month. But I feel put-upon!

We got the gas bill for Bargain House this week. It felt very thick. Four pages, when it's usually two. Further investigation revealed a notice.

WE NEED YOUR HELP READING YOUR NATURAL GAS METER

We're unable to obtain a reading of your actual usage on your natural gas meter, so we had to estimate your most recent bill for the service address listed on your enclosed statement. We're asking for your help to provide you a bill based on your actual usage.

Simply follow the instructions below to provide your meter reading within the next five days.

The bill was dated on Nov 12. We received it on Nov 18. That's already past five days, depending on what starting point they want to use. And nothing about the instructions have the remotest resemblance to SIMPLY! It's a full page, describing three kinds of meters, and asking for the meter number, and the current reading. Oh, and once I have that information, I have to go online to submit it!

I wouldn't know a gas meter from my ample rumpus! So Hick had to assist. You can imagine how that went...

I told Hick what I needed, before he went to Bargan House on the morning of Nov 19. How I needed the meter number, which should be 9 DIGITS. And then I needed the reading, which might be an "advanced meter" with a digital readout, but only the numbers on the left of the decimal. Or it might be a "diaphragm meter" of four dials. Or five dials. Which should be read alternately counterclockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise. Using the number which each dial has just passed.

"I'll just send you a picture!" declared Hick, refusing to take the page of instructions.

Hick sent me a picture of a gas meter. And texted the numbers of the reading.

That number has 10 DIGITS! I tried to call Hick about it, but his phone went straight to voice mail. I sent a text. Hick replied that he had SENT A PICTURE, so that should be good enough. And that the numbers he had sent in a separate text (11 DIGITS, with a decimal) were the reading. That I must be confused (you know, being a woman that doesn't know the difference in a meter reading, and a meter number!) and not counting right. Because he SENT A PICTURE! [Meanwhile, I was silently fuming that Hick was a man, you know, who can't count to 9.]

Obviously, that wouldn't work. So the next day, Hick went back and took another picture of a meter number. Which indeed had 9 DIGITS. I went online and filled out a questionnaire and submitted the info. We'll see how this gas bill is affected. 

I asked Hick why the gas company has to estimate our bill, after all this time of having an actual reading. "Did you have something in the way? While you were doing that work on the back porch?"

"No, Val. Nothing was in the way. I actually had it turned off for a while, the day we worked on the furnace. They cain't read it because they ain't sendin' a meter reader!"

"So now we're working for the gas company?"

"Seems like it."

I don't know what's going on here. But it seems odd that a meter that was once read every month has suddenly started relying on ME (well, assisted by Hick) to report our gas usage to the gas company. You'd think we could get a discount, for taking over a meter readers job...

T-Hoe is BACK!

We took T-Hoe to Mick the Mechanic on Monday afternoon. He was supposed to be home Tuesday afternoon. Nope! Which was bad for me, but good for T-Hoe, since it means more work was being done. Hick gave Mick a list of what he wanted checked/fixed. We knew it would be expensive. Hick looked up the average cost of only replacing struts on a Tahoe, and Google said it was around $1,500. We all know that T-Hoe needed more than just struts. Here's what he got:

Front Struts (2)

Rear Shocks (2)

Front Rotors (2)

Rear Rotors (2)

Front Brake Pads (1)

Rear Brake Pads (1)

Sway Bar Link (2)

Oil Change (1)

Plug Wires (1)

Spark Plugs (8)

tax [$154.62]

labor [$875.00]

The grand total for T-Hoe's makeover was $2,683.27. Again, we were not surprised. I have money set aside for such incidentals, so we're not headed to the poorhouse. I won't even have to pry any of Hick's less-than-$300-a-month salary from his gnarled hard-working hands. It's covered. Paid by check and a trade.

Yes. That's right. Hick did some bartering. "I have a couple things at my shop that Mick wants to trade for. They're worth $1,675.00. So I wrote the check for the rest. Now we owe ME the $1,675.00."

Hmm... why am I suspicious that Hick is making money off the battered carcass of T-Hoe?

Anyhoo... T-Hoe drives like a dream! The steering is firm and not meandering. When I hit a bump, it's a little jolt, not sailing like I'm in The Perfect Storm. At the stoplight, T-Hoe hums nicely, rather than choking like he's about to die. As I'm coming down the hill by Mailbox Row, T-Hoe slows smoothly, not with grabby, whiplash-inducing jabs.

Oh, and T-Hoe seems to have GROWN TWO INCHES! I noticed that when I got out at the Gas Station Chicken Store. It seemed like forever before my foot touched the ground getting out. I wondered if I'd parked differently, over a dip in the pavement. But no. The same thing happened over at 10Box. And in the garage at home. It takes a little more effort to hoist myself up onto the running board when getting in.

Anyhoo... I am relieved to have my T-Hoe back, in much better health than he was before.

These Elderlies Are Driving Me Crazy

Hick went to bed around 8:45 on Tuesday night. At 9:00, I heard his phone ringing. It was on the bathroom counter, and I was in the kitchen. I don't answer Hick's phone. I don't wake him if it rings. He'll answer it if he wants to. If it's family with a problem, they know my phone number. Sometimes Old Buddy calls Hick the night before, to say he won't be working the next day. If he doesn't get an answer, he leaves a text. I was not concerned.

At 10:00, I was sitting at the kitchen table with HIPPIE. I saw a humanoid shape in the window reflection, moving through the living room. Creepy! But weird things happen around here. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Nothing. I turned my attention back to HIPPIE. I almost jumped out of my skin when Hick came tromping through the kitchen. He was fully dressed, not in his tighty-whities as I had last seen him. I figured he must have gotten up to check his phone.

"What are you doing??? You scared me half to death!"

"I've gotta go to town. Somebody's locked out again."

"I thought you put a lock box there with a key!"

"I DID. But she says it doesn't work. It's stuck."

"Are you okay to drive? Are you still sleepy?"

"I'm okay. Be back in a bit."

Hick returned at 11:02. That's like the middle of the night for him!

"Did you figure out what's wrong with the key?"

"No. I just let her in with my key. She was waiting at the back door so I didn't have to go in the front. She only lives on the second floor. So I just unlocked her door and left. I'll look at it tomorrow."

"You really should be paid for getting out in the middle of the night, just because somebody can't remember their key!"

"Oh, I'll get paid. Not from THEM. I'll tell my boss I had to make a special trip to town."

Wednesday morning, Hick gave a few more details. It was the lady who's called him before. She goes out to smoke, and forgets her key. That's why he put in the lock box with a key inside! So he doesn't have to get out in the middle of the night.

"I know that key works! The exterminator has been using it. Apparently, they couldn't get the lock box open. That other gal who wanders around, helping people, was with her when she called. I gave them the number to open the lock box, but they said it didn't work. I thought they were talking about the key, not the box. It has four numbers. It's 0###. I can almost bet they were forgetting the zero first, and just putting in three numbers."

Anyhoo... maybe Hick will get a full $300 this month! To cover SilverRedO's gas.

Hick's Rumpus Gets Caught in the Wringer

Hick had a talk with the Better Business Bureau on Monday. All these years (about 7, I think) he's had his Storage Unit Stores, with nary a problem. Sure, there were sneak thieves with sticky fingers, caught on camera, who got away with pilfering. But as far as complaints, Hick always satisfied his customers. If merchandise was defective, Hick gave a full refund, or repaired the item, or offered a comparable replacement. Even if the damage looked like it was inflicted AFTER the purchase and out of Hick's sight. Hick has one big happy consumer base.

The BBB was NOT interested in Hick's business. It was the senior apartments. The job Hick does for less than $300 a week.

The squeaky wheel begging for grease was the guy who complained about his carpet not being cleaned. Even though it was. Even though Hick gave him the carpet cleaner and detergent so he could do it himself and see if he could get it cleaned to his satisfaction. You remember. The guy who was cussing Hick. The Bad Apple.

Anyhoo... Hick said the lady from the BBB was very nice. She said that Bad Apple had reported his dissatisfaction with his rug. Hick explained that the rug had been cleaned, but it's just an old rug. The apartments are old. He's replaced the rug in some of the apartments, but this one wasn't that bad. That now the organization has more money, from 16 apartments being rented rather than 4. And that they are making improvements as they can. That he had given the carpet cleaner and detergent to Bad Apple to use for himself.

Once the BBB Lady heard that, she said, "So you provided the carpet cleaner and the detergent to him?" Hick affirmed that he did. And that Bad Apple still has them. The BBB Lady thanked Hick for his information.

Hick says, "I'm not worried about it. They cain't do nothin' to ME. The lady seemed pretty satisfied that I had tried to solve the problem." 

Actually, Bad Apple had reported the Senior Center. Which is a separate entity, with separate funding, headed by one of Hick's female buddies, who knows nothing of the running of the apartments, other than what she hears from Hick.

Have I mentioned that I would prefer Hick to NOT HAVE this job? All it's done is chomp him on the rumpus. For less than $300 a month.

That Would Be Eating Like a Bird While You Eat the Bird

I've been thinking ahead to my Thanksgiving menu. Don't want to wait too late to do my shopping! All the good stuff will be gone. As usual, Hick wants ham. To me, ham is for Christmas. But Hick says he's never really liked turkey, unless he eats it hot, right out of the oven. Which I think means eating it as he slices it for the table. Nobody wants to see that!

The Pony is okay with ham OR turkey, because either will be used to make little sandwiches on Sister Schubert's Rolls. I like turkey. Dark meat and white meat. Hot or cold. Leftovers for days. But I'm not thrilled about going to the trouble to thaw and cook a turkey just for myself. One year we just had a turkey breast. But that's as much trouble as a regular turkey. Just not as heavy to put in and take out of the oven.

I have reached a solution! We will have a ham, and Cornish game hens! The Pony won't want a hen, because it has BONES in it! But Hick likes them. We used to have them quite a bit when the kids were young, eating kiddie food. Save A Lot sells Cornish game hens, you know. The frozen kind, from Tyson.

Anyhoo... I picked up four of them while out shopping yesterday. Once home, I was reading the label before putting them in the mini freezer in the laundry room. They are 22 oz. Cook at 350 for about an hour and 15 minutes. Much easier than a turkey!

Here's the thing: A SERVING IS 4 OUNCES! According to the label, heh, heh! Seriously. Even if you discount about half of that weight being bones, the folks who decree serving sizes think that THREE PEOPLE can eat a Cornish game hen!

I told this info to Hick, and he snorted. "Nobody does that! Everyone eats a whole Cornish hen. Remember when we went to the Dixie Stampede? In Branson? And they served the dinner during the show? It was Cornish hens. Everybody got their own!"

I do remember that indeed! It was all finger food. A Cornish hen, soup in a bowl with a handle, potato wedges, a mini corn on the cob, and an apple turnover for dessert. It was with HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and The (little future) Veteran. They were tweenagers at the time. Everybody ate all their food. Nobody was wrenching a Cornish hen into three servings!

Anyhoo... I'm sure there are people who might say, "Just give me a leg." Yeah, right! Psychos!

True, with all our side dishes, and the ham as well, we may not eat a whole Cornish hen at one sitting on Thanksgiving. But really. I think the whole bird is a normal serving.

A Flabbergasting Development Concerning T-Hoe's Health

Are you sitting down? If not, pull up a chair. A chaise lounge might be good. And a side table, for arranging your stiff shot of whiskey, smelling salts, and perhaps a home defibrillator. I, myself, am still giddy with the news, which I learned on Thursday.

HICK GOT T-HOE AN APPOINTMENT WITH MICK THE MECHANIC!

And it's on MONDAY! Which is today, as you are reading this!

[PAUSE]

There. I had to wait for all to regain consciousness before continuing. T-Hoe will have to stay overnight. He's that sick! So many things wrong. After all, T-Hoe is growing long in the tooth. He's 17 in car years. I don't know how that equates to human years. But I figure T-Hoe would qualify to live in a parking garage for seniors.

Tonight I'm going to give Hick a list of what needs to be checked out. Because he's HICK, you know, and will probably try to skate by with just an oil change and shocks. I know the electronic issue with the radio sometimes going off for five or twenty minutes, and the heat/AC stopping to blow normal outside air, and the seat heaters not working, and the backup beeper not working, and the tire sensors saying I have ZERO pounds of air in two tires, won't be addressed.

What I HOPE will be checked out would be the putt-putt sound when T-Hoe idles at stoplights, making me fear he is dying. [Hick himself admits that he doesn't recall T-Hoe ever having new spark plugs in all these 17 years.] And the instability of the front end, which has supposedly been "fixed" twice. [Hick says it's the stabilizer bar.] The shocks are definitely necessary, T-Hoe having been beaten within an inch of his lives all these years on a mile of potholed gravel road that includes Hick and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill. [I'm not sure why Hick only mentioned REAR shocks. Don't they come on the front, too?] Also, the brakes are grabby, so something seems amiss there. [Hick swears he doesn't notice the brake problem, but his normal braking method is enough to make my head bob like a fake dog in the back window.] Oh, and of course I expect the oil to be changed!

The two times the stabilizer bar was "fixed," I enjoyed a firmness in steering that nearly made me weep! I'm hoping the shocks will stop me from getting seasick with the sailing I do after any little bump. Knowing T-Hoe's engine arrythmia has been fixed will make me more confident while idling. Brakes should give a smooth deceleration, not grab and let go like they're teasing you.

Oh, and I will also add that Hick broke this great news to me while handing me two bills on Thursday evening. The first for $353.28 for two new front tires for SilverRedO. And the second for $116.36, for the alignment of those two tires on SilverRedO. It seems like SilverRedO is always being pampered and groomed, with eyebrow-plucking, mani/pedis, chemical peels, massages, and the occasional Brazilian wax... while T-Hoe is the "before" version of Sandra Bullock as Gracie Lou Freebush in Miss Congeniality.

I have high hopes for T-Hoe's rejuvenation. But at least he'll be getting that oil change.

Hick, the King of Non Sequiturs

If a tree falls in Val's woods, does Hick hear a sound?

Last week, Hick was getting the groceries out of T-Hoe's rear, while I sat in the driver's seat, waiting to close the hatch and then the garage door. I was talking to him while he picked up the bags.

"Is that a new tree that fell down? Or just the other one that I'm noticing from a different angle? Step back and take a look at it."

"Yes. It's settling. We might end up having those people come who put foam under it."

What in the NOT-HEAVEN???

So... it was the same tree, just settling. But why would we want to put foam under it? What's wrong with a fallen tree settling to the ground in the woods? We're not going to walk under it. A more anticipated response might have been, "I'll let one of my buddies come cut it up for the wood."

Hick looked in at me as he walked past the passenger door. Must have noticed my confusion.

"What?"

"That's not at all what I was talking about! I'll tell you inside."

I realized Hick had been fixated on the concrete of the garage floor and the carport. There's a little bump there now on my side of the garage. About a 2-inch "step" down to the outside carport as I back out of the garage. Sometimes going in, the tires stop, and I have to gas it to get over the hump, and immediately brake so as not to crash through the front wall.

When I explained this miscommunication in the kitchen, Hick stepped outside to look at that tree. Yes, it was a NEW old tree that had fallen down in the past couple of days. Not the smaller fallen tree that is directly behind the house. He voiced no plan to do anything to it.

Asking Hick a question is like opening a box of chocolates...

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 3, Hicksplanations

When Hick strolled through the kitchen and said, "I guess I need to get a new battery for the generator," I was sure I knew the reason it hadn't started.

"Oh. So the generator didn't start because the battery was dead."

"No. It wouldn't start because it had bad gas."

"You just SAID that you need to get a new battery for it."

"I do."

"Then it was a dead battery, not bad gas!"

"Nooo. I couldn't get the generator to start. The battery was dead. So I pulled on the rope to start it. Like with a lawnmower. I couldn't pull it fast enough. Because of the bad gas. So I hooked it up to the Acadia to jump the battery. FINALLY it caught on, and started."

"Yeah... once you jumped the battery, the generator started. So if it had a good battery, it would have started. The reason it didn't work was the BATTERY!"

"No, Val. You cain't understand nothin'! It was the BAD GAS! There was gas left in the generator from the last time I used it. I could smell that it wasn't right when I got the generator out. The gas gets thicker. It won't go through the carburetor. It turns into something like varnish. That's why I couldn't pull the rope to make the motor spin. The gas was bad. Too thick."

"But the generator DID start, once you jumped the BATTERY!"

"Yeah."

"So the problem keeping the generator from starting was a DEAD BATTERY!"

"No. It was BAD GAS. I'm gonna get some additive to put in there this time. To keep the gas from going bad."

"AND you're getting a new battery."

"Yeah."

Okay. This was certainly going nowhere. I still say the battery was the problem. IF the battery had worked, the generator would have started, despite the bad gas. After all, it DID start when the battery was jumped, even though the "bad gas" was still in it. That's my explanation, and it makes sense to me. The Hicksplanation does not.

In other not-as-confusing news, Hick has a theory on what caused our power outage. He agrees that it likely had something to do with the cable man in the lift stringing cable on the electric pole.

"They got it fixed quick, once a crew showed up. There was nobody there when I came back with the gas, but a half hour later it was fixed. That had to be something simple. Like a breaker, or a transformer. They could have just reset the breaker, or put on a new transformer. They always have a good stock of them."

"So the cable man would know he messed up?"

"Oh, yeah. It would cause a big spark and a noise. Somebody could have even been killed!"

"Well, I doubt that, since there was no activity around there, and they were still stringing cable when you first came home."

"Probably not."

"So what could he have done to cause it?"

"Maybe nothing. The wind could have blown his cable into the live electric wire. That would have shorted out the transformer, or tripped the breaker. Maybe it was something he couldn't have avoided."

"Still, I'm sure they were the cause."

"Me too. When I came back with the gas, I could see that everybody had lights until I got to that pole on the sharp curve. From there home, it was all dark."

"He must have done it right before I got there! He was still at the same pole when I went by. Can they get sued by the electric company for damaging their equipment? Did they have permission to put their cable on the poles?"

"I guess they could. But there's usually an agreement. They all use the electric poles. The telephone company, and the cable companies. They lease the poles."

"Well. We always called them TELEPHONE POLES! Because my dad worked for the telephone company..."

That said, I know the electric company also has their own poles, because other relatives work for them, and have talked about having to bring in a new pole when a car knocks one down. 

Anyhoo... I can't agree with Hick about the reason for the generator not working. But I can't disagree with Hick about the reason for the electricity being off. One out of two is really good, when it comes to Hicksplanations.

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 2, Solutions

We left Val hobbling around her garage (TWICE) over uneven bricks and lumpy gravel, to gain access to her electricless hillbilly mansion.

I had no doubt that my power outage had been caused by those cable company linemen! That's the only explanation. The winds were much slower than the previous two days, when we hadn't had an issue. Only gusting to 14 mph, rather than 30. You can't convince me that our electricity was randomly disconnected while a man in a lift was mucking about with wires.

Once inside, I checked my phone to see what that email was about. It was from the electric company! Saying a potential outage had been reported in my area, with a restore time of 6:45 p.m. The time of the email was 3:48. It had been sent in the middle of my 10-minute drive home. I'm sure that cable guy had dis-electrified me just as I was leaving town. Nothing to do now but gather up flashlights and wait for Hick to get home to start the generator. It was going on 4:30 by the time I got things situated. I had about a half hour of daylight left.

I settled down at the kitchen table with my scratchers. Trying to stay out of trouble and not flush or run water or open FRIG II. I had washed my hands in oatmeal water! Meaning I had used the water I'd run into my breakfast oatmeal bowl to soak in the sink.

Hick was home shortly before 5:00. He immediately went out to get the generator going. I could hear the one running at the neighbors, but no sound from ours. That's not true. I could hear puttering. Sputtering. Light ceased coming in through the miniblinds. I turned on a flashlight. Scratching lottery like the pioneers had to do, heh, heh! FINALLY, after 20-30 minutes, I heard the generator start, and the lights came on. Hick came inside.

"I thought I'd never get it going. Now I have to go to town for gas. I don't have enough to run it long."

Off Hick went. At least I had lights and flushes. Meantime, I had another email from the electric company, saying that the cause of the outage was equipment damage, and they couldn't provide a restore time at this moment.

When Hick returned, he said there were no crews working on the electric lines. What with it being Veteran's Day, perhaps the electric company had trouble getting an on-call crew that was nearby. Hick said that I could use a burner, but not the oven. So I fried him a couple hot dogs for his supper. 

I continued scratching, and Hick watched TV. Of course I was freezing to death, though Hick said it wasn't even cold outside. It sure LOOKED cold! Had only reached the 50s, and supposed to go below freezing overnight. My hands were like ice. I could hardly grip my lucky quarter. I have no idea of the actual temperature inside. It might have only dipped a degree or two below the 70 it had been set on. I just knew that right now I had no heat, and I was FREEZING!

At 6:30, Hick went out on the front porch to see if our dusk-to-dawn light had come back on. IT HAD! At the same time, I got another email from the electric company, saying our power had been restored. You don't know how ecstatic that made me. Not only would I have heat now, but I COULD USE THE OVEN TO WARM UP MY BONUS REUBEN!!!

Hick went out to shut off the generator. I was standing at the kitchen counter. He said, "Stay right there, just like that! It's going to get really dark." So I did. Then Hick came back in with the flashlight, to go to the breaker box and hook us back up to regular electricity. Oh, and on the way through the kitchen, he said,

"I guess I need to get a new battery for the generator."

Which resulted in a whole new annoyance, one of Hick's "Who's on  First" explanations. Or as I've come to think of them: Hicksplanations.

Still, it's times like these that I'm glad I have a generator. AND a Hick.

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 1, Obstacles

You may recall that Val doesn't ask for much. Just a reliable vehicle to drive to town every day for scratchers, a couple hours in the afternoon/evening to scratch, and a Reuben once a month. Nothing extravagant. No jewels or fancy clothes or designer shoes or lavish vacations. She's a simple gal, our Val.

Tuesday started off well enough, though I was a bit worried about Hick on his trip down into the bootheel to pick up his FREE lawnmower ramp on his trailer. Temps were up into the low 50s by the time I left for town, so that was an improvement.

I had gone about a mile on our county blacktop road when I encountered my first obstacle. A white utility truck parked on my side of the road, blocking my lane. A man was in a lift, fiddling with a wire that ran across the road. There were two or three other white trucks parked in the field and driveway. I was able to squeeze T-Hoe past the lift truck, feeling like I had two tires on a tightrope where the road dropped off. At least I could see that no traffic was coming along that stretch. I immediately thought of Hick, returning with his trailer. And then the school bus, which was due in about 10 minutes. Odd that the workers did not have a flag man, or cones set up.

I couldn't call the school bus, but I DID call Hick. Just as soon as I got over the low water bridge and back up the hill where I had phone service.

"Hey, where are you? There are electric trucks working here by the Best Compound (our name for that property, with its row of mailboxes and several families.) You might want to come in the other way, because I don't think you can get your trailer past them without running it off the road."

Hick was almost back to the area of his SUS2.5, and had a couple other errands. He thought they might be gone by the time he came home. I said I'd update him on my return. Which took longer than expected, with my other obstacles.

A red truck was parked in my rightful handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store, also taking up half the FREE AIR space. It had handicap plates, so just beat me to it. Which didn't make my walk inside any shorter. 

When I left by the back alley, a local can opener factory had just let out, so the road was blocked from traffic backed up from the stoplight. 

I finally got the liquor store where I wanted to buy crossword scratchers, but I saw a little girl holding the door open with her back, a tray of something she was selling draped across her forearms. No thank you! I don't appreciate such strong-arm tactics. That store is not a place for a tweenage girl!

I left the Liquor Store to buy my tickets at the 10Box machine instead. Where all the handicap spaces were taken. At least a space at the far left end was open, so I could park with assurance that T-Hoe's door would not be blocked when I returned.

After these five uncommon deterrents to my simple scratcher-buying trip, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed home with my tickets. It's only a 10-minute drive. I heard my phone, but it was an email, not a text, so I figured it was nothing important and didn't check. From the hill above the bridge, I could see that the utility trucks were gone. Once I got back over the bridge, I called Hick to let him know the coast was clear.

"Hey, the electric trucks are gone now. You can get by."

No sooner had I disconnected than I rounded a curve and saw a white lift truck parked in my lane! There was more room to get around here, because of somebody else's driveway. I rounded a sharp curve, and saw ANOTHER white truck parked on my side. And a yellow little gadget that looked like a wood splitter. Huh. I went around, and saw that the side of the truck said SPECTRUM. That's the local cable company. I guess maybe it had been them all along, and not the electric company.

I figured Hick could get by them with his trailer. So I didn't try to call back, since I was approaching our mailbox area down by the creek, where I lose phone service again. I was home within five minutes. It was now almost 4:00. My little dog Jack ran around back of the garage to greet me. I pushed the garage door opener.

IT DIDN'T OPEN!

That's really nothing new. For YEARS I have been telling Hick that I need a battery, or a new opener. I'm sure that comes as a surprise to you, heh, heh. Sometimes it takes 3 or 4 tries. Or 7 or 8. I crept closer and closer. Tapped that opener. Turned it in all directions. NOTHING! Why can't I have nice things? The other door, for A-Cad, always opens with the first push of the opener.

Though you may know me as a chaste dainty lady, Val has the ability to express herself like an outraged sailor. I made use of that skill then. Poor little Jack. I had to explain that it was HICK who was the subject of my X-rated rant, and not he.

The perfect end to a perfect hour, right? I stomped across the carport, over the rutted gravel, under the carport where SilverRedO is usually parked, with the three dog holes dug into the gravel, across the uneven Hick-laid-brick sidewalk, to the people door of the garage. Where I reached in and pushed the doorbell-like button to open my garage door.

NOTHING HAPPENED!

Well, great. The whole garage door must be bad. But wait! The lights weren't lit up in the doorbell-like buttons. 

VAL WAS POWERLESS! To be continued...

Not Just a Surprise, But a Bonus

I'm so happy that Hick discovered REUBENS for lunch Monday at the Senior Center! He brought home two, but said he was still full from eating the same meal for lunch.

Broccoli Cheddar Soup

Reuben Sandwich

Slaw

Hilda's Brownies

Hick opened them up to check on the soup for me. Once again, whoever bagged those take-out meals tied the white plastic bags in knots, like a giant boa constrictor might try to escape. Hick used his pocket knife to slash through them. He reported that it was Broccoli Soup. This was before he handed me the menu for this month, so I could read it for myself. I asked if it was good, and Hick replied that HE had vegetable beef soup, and it was great. Huh. I guess "the pet" gets special treatment!

The sandwich looked great. None of the slaw leaked out, even though Hick was flipping those bags around all willy-nilly as he came through the kitchen door. Like one of those flag people on an aircraft carrier. The soup and dessert containers were stacked on top of the sandwich/slaw containers. It's a wonder there wasn't a biononhazardous spill! The slaw was actually not as liquidy as it appears.

Hick said he didn't want the Broccoli Cheddar Soup. It wasn't bad. The soup was thinner than it appears here. I had three tiny florets of broccoli in mine. The amount was a half cup, in that cardboard container, which I heated in the microwave.

The brownie looked pretty good, but there wasn't an edge this time. I told Hick he could have mine. For being "not hungry," Hick sure was able to eat two brownies! I didn't think he would have them both at one sitting.

Anyhoo... here's the BONUS part! Hick said he was okay with me having his Reuben! Since he didn't like the "creamy" slaw anyway. So I got out of making Hick's supper Monday night, AND I had a second Reuben meal for myself on Tuesday. Except those Reubens are quite filling, and I didn't really want two whole ones, having planned on cutting mine in half anyway, to have over two suppers.

Here's my solution. I took the innards out of the second sandwich, and put them on the first one. I cut it in half, to have over two nights. Then I froze the other two slices of marble rye bread, for when I want to make a sandwich. I can never find that bread in the stores. The half-sandwich with double meat was just right.

I'm looking forward to Tuesday night's supper! Me and my half-Reuben, with our guests Broccoli Cheddar Soup and Slaw.

Good Thing Hick Didn't Pick Monday to Go to the Ends of Missouri to Fetch His FREE Ramp

Monday morning dawned bright and cold. Actually, it wasn't full dawn when Hick left home, after knocking the ice out of the dog dish and filling it with water. Our first hard freeze.

"It's supposed to be really cold today. And the wind!"

"I'm not worried. We have heat in the flip house."

"I just meant on the way. But it's supposed to warm into the 60s later this week. Oh, and you need to get a menu from the Senior Center. I can't tell you what your lunch is today. The old menu stopped on Friday."

"They're gonna be closed tomorrow. Veteran's Day."

"So get a menu today! I need to know when they're having Reubens. I hope it's not TODAY!!!"

"I'm pretty sure it won't be today, Val. But I'll try and remember a menu."

It's now 11:30 a.m. on Monday as I'm typing. An hour ago, I got a text from Hick:

"Reuben today I'm bringing two home"

Well, that was a close one! If we missed it, that means another month until a Reuben!!! I really hope Hick DOES bring home the Reubens. Usually, he tells me he has to call ahead and order them. I guess maybe he went by early, to do something at the apartments, and found out. Because normally, lunch isn't served until 11:00.

This might be the most exciting thing to happen to me all month! A surprise Reuben! I am wondering what dastardly shenanigans The Universe and Even Steven might have up their respective sleeves...

Hick's Logistics Needed to Acquire FREE Stuff

Hick's life is a tangled web of buddy relationships. All that mutual backscratching, hand-washing (AS IF!), and bread-buttering must fit into a complicated pattern that could warp the space-time continuum.

Every time Hick's phone rings in the evening, I suspect it's one of the elderlies. I turn off the music playing on HIPPIE to get a gist of one end of the conversation. Like on Monday.

"Hello? [Silence] No. No, that's okay. It's fine. You can do that. Not a problem. Okay. Talk to you later."

"Was that one of your old people wanting something?"

"No. It was my buddy who cleaned out our gutters. He wanted to borrow my trailer, so I said okay."

"That's a lot better payment than the $100 you gave him for balancing on our metal roof!"

I don't mind Hick loaning out "his" trailer. Even though somebody once borrowed his previous trailer, and it was involved in a high-speed accident and totaled, and the driver (plus the borrower) ran from the scene, leading to a knock on the door at 11:30 p.m. for Hick to be questioned by law enforcement officials concerning property damage to utility company structures. They had traced Hick through the license plate, which did not have the courtesy to fall off or be damaged as severely as the trailer.

Anyhoo... on Tuesday evening, Hick got another call.

"Hello? Yeah. Sure. No. I'll have to take my trailer. My truck don't have an 8-foot bed. It's only 6 foot. I can pick you up Thursday. Yeah. You can ride along with me. It's a long drive. Down past Casino Town. Near the bootheel. Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Well, I figure that wasn't one of your old ladies. Unless now they want you moving furniture for them."

"No. It was my buddy that sold us the $5,000 house. He's got a steel ramp I can have. From his father-in-law who used to have a lawnmower business. I just have to pick it up. It's like a ramp I can use for loading a lawnmower."

"You can't do it Thursday! That's when you're grilling for The Pony. You'll be all tired and cranky by the time you get back."

"No I won't. But Tuesday might be a better day for it. I'll call him back tomorrow."

"Wait a minute! His FATHER-IN-LAW? How is THAT possible? Your buddy is older than you! He was your teacher! How is the guy still alive?"

"He's in a nursing home, Val. He's 99 years old!"

"And he just now decided he doesn't need his lawnmower ramp?"

"No. The family has been clearing things out for a while now." 

"How can he not know where the guy lived? It's his FATHER-IN-LAW! Why were you telling him where the town was?"

"I don't know the name of the town. But it's almost to Arkansas. It'll take a couple hours just to get there."

That still didn't answer my question, but as conversations with Hick go, I was okay with not pursuing the illogical interaction.

Anyhoo... I was also wondering if Hick would have his trailer back in time. Turns out he DID, because on Wednesday evening, he said he was going over to the BARn to hook up his trailer for the next day.

"Wait. I thought you changed your plan from Thursday to Tuesday to pick up the ramp."

"I did. But first, I have to patch my trailer. Some of the wood is rotted out. So I'm taking it over to the flip house to use the scraps we had left of the lumber. That's easier than loading the wood and bringing it out here."

Well. I don't consider driving a trailer to town easier than loading scrap boards in the back of a truck, but I'm not a handyman. Hick left home at 6:00 on Thursday morning. At 7:45, I saw SilverRedO drive through the front yard. Hick came running in through the front door.

"Whew! I gotta use the bathroom!"

I don't know why he feels the need to make these grandiose announcements. But when he came out, I had more questions.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going to fix your trailer."

"It's fixed! I already done it, as soon as I got there. It's ready now."

Here it is Monday. Tomorrow, Hick is off to get his FREE ramp. Which only cost him a couple tanks of gas, some scrap lumber, and enough hours of time to delay an oil change for T-Hoe.

Val the Enabler

Hick has a junk problem. Oh, it's no problem to HIM! But he has a two-story BARn, and a Freight Container Garage, filled with things he might one day use. 

I should have known there was really no reason for building the Freight Container Garage, other than Hick had already packed the BARn to the gills with his "treasures." In fact, the very week the FCG was complete, Hick bought 18 storage units, and proceeded to stash the contents in there. It has a car lift installed that has never been used. Because there's too much stuff around it. To be fair, Hick has sold off some of those contents by now. And given some away to other flea market store buddies. There's still plenty left. 

Hick's quest for FREE stuff continues. Some of it's good. Like the bathtub and shower surround that he picked up along our county blacktop road, and used for the bathroom in HOS House. And the bathroom sink he stopped to get on a different county blacktop highway on our way home from a casino trip. I think maybe it went into the Beauty Shop.

Ever since we were married, living in my $17,000 house in town, Hick has been on the lookout for stuff. I even started helping him! On the way home from the bank one day, I saw a strip of something on the road. We were putting new siding on an addition to my house. It looked like the trim stuff. And it was white. Same color! Yes. I stopped my 1980 cherry-red Toyota Corolla in the middle of the road, and got out to pick it up. I had a Not-Heaven of a time getting that long piece of vinyl to fit in the back seat. When Hick got home, he took a look.

"Oh. That's J-channel. Yeah, I could have used it. But it's been run over too many times."

It's the thought that counts, right?

During our Errand Day on Thursday, The Pony and I were coming back from the bank. And at the same intersection where I had long-ago found the J-channel, I saw something in front of the only house in that area.

"Pony! Do you see that? It's a headboard! Solid wood. Look, it has a design carved into it. I wonder if Dad might want that. To sell in his shop, or put in one of the flip houses, like staging."

When we stopped at the Save A Lot a few yards down the street, I called Hick while The Pony ran in to pick up a couple things.

"It's out here by the old donut shop. Across from that one bank. On the same side of the road as where Walmart used to be. It's solid wood. Looks like it's for a full-size bed."

"Okay. I might take a look at it when I'm out that way."

Hick decided he didn't want it, but he called Old Buddy, in case he wanted it to sell in his own shop. That's what buddies do for each other. They're enablers, just like Val...

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!