Val Attempts an Enabling

It's no secret that Hick likes a bargain. The best bargains are FREE! Anytime I see something that might interest Hick, I go out of my way to let him know.

I went to The Pony's house on Saturday, and saw something Hickworthy on the side street that is often torn up with water leaks. It's paved over again now, but still bumpy. Anyhoo... sitting on the curb across the street from The Pony's garage was 

A SMALL CHEST FREEZER!

It even had FREE written on the front with a black marker. I figured Hick might want to know. Granted, this could be a broken freezer that somebody wanted to get rid of, without paying to take it to the landfill. Then again, it might work, and the people needed room for a newer freezer, or another appliance, or maybe they were remodeling and it didn't fit. I pushed aside thoughts (from watching too many How to Murder Your Wife shows) that this FREE freezer might contain dismembered body parts.

Anyhoo... Hick was working at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). I sent a text.

"Free little freezer on Pony's side street."

"Ok might go by and see"

"Across from the garage."

There. My responsibility was over. Hick could go look at it on his way home. If it wasn't there, at least he knew where it HAD been, and could surmise that somebody else got it first.

We don't need a little freezer. We have one in the laundry room. I thought Hick might want it to sell. I'm sure he could get $5 out of it, heh, heh. Or he might give it to a buddy to sell. If it didn't work, Hick knows a lot about machines and motors, and could probably figure out if it was worth fixing. Or somebody might want to practice working on it.

After all my good-deediness, Hick decided not to drive by and look at it. He was driving A-Cad, since he'd played Santa that day. Not sure why Santa can't drive SilverRedO, but he always takes the car instead of the truck on those days. The freezer would probably have fit in A-Cad's rear, unless Hick had it already full of other "treasures." 

This is the second of my offerings that Hick has turned down, the other being that wooden bed headboard. If he's not careful, my hoarder-enabling behavior might taper off to nothing, due to lack of rewards. I took Intro to Psychology!

The Different Creepiness Continues

It's The Universe's world. Val just tries to live in it. Minding her own beeswax, not rocking any boats, asking for little more than a drive-able T-Hoe, daily scratchers, and a Reuben sandwich once a month. The Universe is such a merry prankster. Always reminding Val that the laws of physics, much like traffic lights and road lines, are just suggestions.

A couple weeks ago, we had the strange incident of the (fake) dog on the steps. It remains unexplained. And now there's been another anomaly that smacks of practical-jokerism!

Friday afternoon, I started out to the garage. The fake dog was sitting where he belonged, beside the top of the steps. But another item blocked my way!

What in the NOT-HEAVEN??? It's a jug! I don't know where it came from. I don't know how it got there. Hick denies responsibility. WHO PUT A JUG ON MY SIDEWALK?

Pay no attention to the spectre in the window. That's just my reflection, not an actual ghost inside the garage, trying to capture Val's expression of surprise and fear (and possibly her soul).

I asked my little dog Jack where that jug came from. He offered no explanation. I picked it up and set it on the shelf against the garage. The jug had some frozen water in the bottom. That's called ice, if we're going by the regular laws of physics. The jug was about 1/6 full of ice.

Another strange thing had happened just before I left. I was out of the shower, lotioning my legs, when I heard the sound of a 4-wheeler or truck revving its engine. Sounded like it was in the front yard, just on the other side of the bathroom wall. Or maybe on Shackytown Boulevard. Jack wasn't barking. So I thought maybe it was just a noisy vehicle up on the gravel road. Then I saw the jug about 10 minutes later.

Oh, but wait. That's not all. When I came home two hours later, something was different inside the house. I didn't hear the TV. I always leave it on, to discourage burglars. You know how they fear TVs! I went through the kitchen to the living room, and saw that the TV screen was black. The green POWER light was off. But the power to the DISH box was on. When I turned on TV power, the show started playing. The DISH receiver was fine. Back in the kitchen, the microwave clock was working. So there hadn't been a power outage or even a quick flicker. That microwave clock is our most sensitive electronical gadget.

When Hick came home, he denied placing the jug on the sidewalk.

"I don't know where it came from. It's the jug I used to carry water to the dog we tried to adopt. Last I knew, it was in the garage. But maybe it was up on the shelf on the porch. I guess it coulda blowed off."

Well. It didn't on those days when we had 30 mph winds. And this day the wind was 5 mph. I suppose it could have landed right-side-up if it fell off the shelf, due to the ice frozen in the bottom. Maybe the out-of-control giant squirrels could have done it, even though you'd think it would have happened already in the months it might have been sitting there.

No sign of anybody being inside the house. HIPPIE was still on the kitchen table just inside the door. Hick said the TV goes off if it's on too long. No siree, Bob! That's the DISH receiver that will go off after three hours, if you don't change the channel. And it has a logo on the screen.

The best I can hope for, to prevent freaking out about a possible stalker, is that squirrels put the jug on the sidewalk, and our dormant poltergeist is again active, messing with the TV power...

A Hick Dilemma

The Bargain House kitchen is starting to look like a kitchen. Hick sent several updates.

"Got top of cabinets boxed in." I asked what he planned to do with the ceiling, and Hick said, "I have a trim board, then paint." When we bought the house, there was a piece of plywood nailed over the ceiling above the kitchen sink. When Hick and Old Buddy took it down, it was just a hole in the ceiling. Hick thinks he can recreate those swirls by using a wallpaper brush. He took one over there to see if it's the right size. If it doesn't work out, they will have to put up drywall for the whole ceiling.

That little piece of decorative trim hiding the sink light is the only original thing left from the kitchen. Hick wanted to include it.

The lower cabinets are set in place. Here's a look at the countertop. Of course that's not where it will stay. The sink will go under the window. Hick was trying to see how the countertop would look with the backsplash he plans to make out of flooring. 

HICK IS RECONSIDERING! 

Not the idea of using flooring. But the specific flooring he had on hand. Thank goodness he sent me a picture Thursday morning!

"Before I nail it all do you like the wood behind the counter?"

This was too important for a text! I called right away. "No. That doesn't look good together. The colors are too similar, yet different. Same with the patterns. No. Don't use that."

Hick agreed that it doesn't look quite right. He checked on some other stuff. Found something metallic, and brought back samples of gold and silver to see how they compare. I suggested the flooring that looks like tile. Just plain, like slate. Whatever he picks, Hick thinks he might also use it on the top of the cabinets where he boxed them in, for contrast. He's not sure of the actual flooring for the floor yet.

The Earnestness of Being Important

If Val is involved in a wrong, she must right it! That's how she was raised. Fair is fair, and no good comes of "getting away with wrong." Even if it's unintentional.

Wednesday afternoon, I was in a bit of a hurry when buying my scratchers. On Wednesdays, Hick and I watch Survivor, which comes on at 7:00. I wanted time to get home and scratch my tickets before the show. There's always something that sidetracks me, and takes up more time than I'd planned. Perhaps a call to The Pony, or supper for Hick, or something that arrives in the mail that needs attention.

I arrived at the Gas Station Chicken store with plenty of time in my "schedule." It was not busy. I parked in my rightful handicap space and went inside. The regular clerk was on her break, and Man Owner was running the register. I was the only customer inside. 

Man Owner is slower than the regular clerks. He's the OWNER, you know. Not expected to be quick at ringing people up. Being the owner, he is very thorough. He scanned my winners. Stapled them together. Printed out the draw ticket that I buy every day for The Pony, a $3 Cash4Life with Easy Match. I chose my scratchers. Man Owner rang them up and gave me my $2 change. I held the two bills on top of my scratchers as I walked to the car. No need to take in a purse, or fiddle with folding them and stuffing them in my pocket. I can do that once I get back to T-Hoe.

The sun was blazing in the passenger side of the windshield, right into my eyes. I let my tickets lie on the console while I drove over to 10Box to get more crossword tickets from their two machines. After parking, I wrote the GSCS on the back of those tickets before going in. I always like to know where a winner comes from. It affects what I buy the next day.

Anyhoo... as I was folding those two ones to put in my shirt pocket, they felt thick. I looked. Turned them over. There were two new bills stuck together, and then another one. Man Owner had given me THREE ones, when I was only entitled to TWO. 

Well. No way was I going to cheat Man Owner! I've been going there for years. He's a nice guy. Would the loss of a dollar put him in the poorhouse? No. It was the principle! You don't take money that's not yours! Even if somebody gave it to you by accident. The drawer would come up short, and that clerk would get blamed for it.

Right then I knew I was going back to return that dollar. Just as soon as I dashed in 10Box for my crosswords. I figured Man Owner would be off the register by then, but I could explain to the clerk. She could put it in the register, and it would be off my conscience.

Of course we're talking about Val's World. Where The Universe holds sway over her every interaction. When I drove onto the parking lot, there were five cars at the gas pumps. A handicap plater in my rightful handicap space. A car in the FREE AIR parking space, with one behind it waiting for the hose. I decided to drive through, out the back alley, and up to the roundabout a mile away. When I came back, they'd probably be cleared out.

Do you hear The Universe snickering? A white dump truck parked by the moat chose that moment to pull out and head for the back alley. I slammed on T-Hoe's (newly replaced) brakes and avoided being sideswiped. I guess that driver doesn't know why those giant vehicles have side mirrors. He's lucky I had on sunglasses, and my passenger-side visor pulled down, or I may not have seen him in the glare.

Anyhoo... I proceeded to the back alley, and turned toward the roundabout. The Universe was wheeze-laughing like Muttly. It was the end of shift for the can opener factory, and cars were pouring out of their lot. I knew that if I came back from the roundabout, I'd be caught in it for three or four stoplight cycles. So I went through that roundabout, and towards home through the second roundabout, and past Mick the Mechanic's shop, then back into town.

My rightful handicap space was available. Only a couple cars were at the pumps. One truck at the diesel pumps on the side. I clutched that crisp dollar and went inside. OH NO! There were SIX customers waiting. More people than that, but some were together. I hate being in that small store with so many people! But I HAD to give back that dollar, and I'd already hobbled inside. So I stood.

There are only three (narrow) aisles. Two were clogged with waiters. I made note of the guy in a gray sweatshirt and trucker cap who had entered just ahead of me. It would be my turn after his. He eventually squeezed back to the end of one line. I didn't try to follow. Just stood as out of the way as I could, against the wall by the front door.

A couple other guys came up that aisle and got in line behind sweatshirt guy. I know they saw me standing there waiting, because the first one met eyes with me. It was a real sausagefest in there. Me and a bunch of workingmen in their painter pants with assorted stains, talking about drywall and freelancing. A congenial bunch. But still, a bunch.

After sweatshirt guy paid for gas and a scratcher, the guy behind him motioned me ahead. I thanked him, even though we both knew I was next. It never hurts to be polite, or at least perceived as such.

"I'm just here to return this dollar. It was stuck together when Man Owner gave me my $2 change. I don't want the drawer to come up short, or for Man Owner to get in trouble, heh, heh!" [Woman Owner runs a tight ship!]

"Oh, isn't that sweet!" said the clerk, who sure didn't want her drawer coming up short to the displeasure of Woman Owner.

"Aww, that's a really nice thing to do," said Behind Guy.

Not gonna lie. That made it worth the wait. It made me feel important. I couldn't even be disgruntled over the 30 extra minutes that good deed took me.

Nice Guys Finish Crashed

On Monday, the snow expected here after 8:00 p.m. started shortly before noon. I made it to town and back with no issues, just a bit earlier than I had planned. Hick called to say his auction had been canceled! At least he made his own supper, a ham (leftover) sandwich. I had just frozen the green beans and roasted vegetables and remaining turkey that morning.

Anyhoo... Hick had been at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) that afternoon about his newly-installed heater that wasn't working. Then he went to the courthouse and annex to pay his business taxes and get his business license for 2026. Then by the abstract company to see about the closing on our latest flip that seems to be taking forever to be finalized. When he got home, he said he was running a bath in the big triangle tub, to warm up and jet away the pain in his legs.

While he was in the tub, I heard his phone ringing in the living room. I figured Hick would deal with it when he got out. Apparently, he did not.

Tuesday was frigid, and the snow wasn't melting, so I stayed home. Hick again ran a bath when he arrived. When he got out, he said, "I'm going to call my buddy. Looks like he called last night. I'll see what he wants." 

I couldn't hear the conversation, but this is the guy whose sewer Hick fixed, the 90-degree elbow he replaced with a 45-degree elbow that was actually 135 degrees. He's older than Hick, and not in great health. I could only hear Hick saying, "That's normal. That's what it's SUPPOSED to do! Let me know how it goes." I was worried about The Buddy's health. I asked Hick what was going on.

"Well... I let him borrow my trailer to haul something. And yesterday evening, he had a wreck."

"Oh, no! Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he seems to be all right. But he had rented a truck to pull the trailer. A brand new 2026 with only 3000 miles on it. Now it's wrecked."

"What about your trailer?"

"Oh, it's totaled! I won't be getting my trailer back."

"What is it with you and trailers? Why can't you just have a trailer? Every one you've had has been wrecked by somebody who borrowed it! I guess now you'll have to borrow a trailer to pick up stuff for the flip house."

"I guess so. Anyway, he's all wound up. He kept saying, 'I've got to buy you a trailer!' I told him he doesn't. It's not something we have to deal with today, like he thinks it is!"

"I bet he's been worried to death since last night, when you didn't call him."

"I told him it's okay. I know he don't have the money to buy me a trailer. The reason he needed it was to haul his truck somewhere to get it fixed. So he had to rent that other truck to pull the trailer. He said when he went to pick up the rental truck, they made him buy insurance. I told him they always do that, because all he had was liability insurance. I asked if they knew he'd be using it to pull a trailer, and he said they must have, because THEY gave him the ball to put on it to hook the trailer to. 

I told him that it's understandable that a wreck could happen, in that snow Monday evening. The insurance should cover it. That's what the insurance is for. It should cover my trailer, too. You can't buy insurance like that on just a trailer. The insurance on what's pulling the trailer covers the trailer."

We'll see if Hick gets reimbursed for the value of his trailer. It wasn't a NEW trailer, but it was a big trailer that he used to haul his tractor on, and pick up cabinets and appliances and lumber for the flip houses. And those lawnmower ramps his other buddy told him about.

Hick is not mad at The Buddy. It was an accident, not intentional. It won't affect their friendship. I am still worried about The Buddy. This has to be a lot of stress on him.

The Bad Apple Bobs Up Again

Remember Bad Apple, the elderly from the apartments who cussed Hick and complained about his (cleaned) carpet not being clean enough, took the carpet shampooer and detergent Hick offered to do it himself, then reported Hick to the Better Business Bureau?    

Monday, Bad Apple asked Hick to come up to his apartment. Hick went.

Bad Apple apologized to Hick. Said he didn't know the group (Hick's employer/boss) was a nonprofit organization. He was just mad because Hick wouldn't give him the phone number of who else to complain to.

Hick said, "Nobody wants to talk to you! That's why they hired me. I do that for them."

Bad Apple said, "I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I don't want to move."

Well! I think we have discovered the reason behind his change of heart! The possibility of eviction. And maybe the fact (?) that the BBB doesn't have any authority over nonprofits. I'm not sure of their parameters. But it sounds like that complaint was going nowhere.

Anyhoo... Bad Apple repeated that he was sorry. And asked if maybe Hick could fix his door.

Hick said he would. It needed a drill to put in a new hole so the screw would be flush with the plate thingy the latch goes into. [My words, not Hick's.] 

I told Hick, "Well. That's over with. Until he finds something else to complain about."

Hick agreed.

Hick Is Still on Uppers

After a three-day sojourn from Bargain House renovations, Hick was back at it on Monday. He and Old Buddy put up the remaining upper cabinets. These are on the wall the kitchen shares with the laundry room that is now part of the back entrance to Bargain House.

Hick says the stove, refrigerator, and microwave will fit under these small upper cabinets. He is keeping that door, and giving it a fresh coat of white paint. I like that idea. It's an unusual door, and more interesting than a plain panel door.

I asked Hick's plans for the backsplash, and he said he thought he'd use flooring, like he did at the Double Hovel flip house(s). He thinks he has some of the gray version left in The Pony's garage, and is going by to check on it. I like the thought of the gray with the white cabinets. Hick says he will probably use a different kind for the floor, so as not to be too matchy.

Hopefully, Hick is now off the uppers. The kitchen is actually going faster than I expected.

The Universe Shows No Mercy

Can Val catch a break, please? After all the preparations for Thanksgiving dinner, with the shopping and the cooking and the taxi-ing The Pony here for help, and the cleanup, and the leftover-storing, and leftover-warming, and let's not forget all that DISHWASHING with no dishwasher... you'd think that maybe Val might be rewarded with AT LEAST her usual return on her scratcher tickets. 

BUT NO!

For two days, I've been on a losing streak! LOSING! More than normal losing. On Friday, I won NOTHING! A shut-out! That has not happened for over a year. Saturday was snowy and rainy and freezing, so I stayed home. I had seen the forecast, and had saved some of Friday's scratchers for that day. Also, Hick agreed to bring me six tickets that I specifically requested, and paid for. Only three winners from that day. Not even my usual minimum win percentage.

This is Sunday. I'm going to town. The snow has melted. Sunny for now. Windy and cold. Surely it's time for a big winner. Right? I've even upped The Universe's indebtedness by spending a half hour of my valuable time writing checks for Hick's business taxes and business license. Plus filling out the annoying forms.

I'm not asking for the moon. Just a decent percentage of money back for my scratcher allowance. I wouldn't turn down a big winner, of course. I only want The Universe to be fair.

I guess this is why it's called gambling. Not winning.

Hick Cooks Up a New Kitchen for Bargain House

Hick is plugging away at Bargain House. Of course, it's not nearly as exciting as his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), nor as satisfying as sitting around the Senior Center for an hour lunch, and doesn't garner the glory of taking care of the elderlies and their apartments. One of these days, Bargain House is going to be ready to sell.

Hick got a good deal on cabinets at Lowe's. With his contractor's account, he got $600 off the total price. THEN, when he went to pick up the cabinets a couple days later, the gal he was paying told him about another deal.

"I got down there on Tuesday, even though I'd told them I didn't need the cabinets that soon. The gal asked if I would be needing appliances. Because they had another deal, and it ended on Thursday. Thanksgiving. So I thought about it. I'm not ready for the appliances yet. But I had her figure up the cost, and if I got the stove, refrigerator, and microwave, I could get $700 off. I figured that was a pretty good deal, rather than trying to find them later. So I ordered them, and can pick them up in December."

Hick decided that white cabinets are a thing now. So that's what he got. He and Old Buddy put up the first couple on the day Hick picked them up.

That board will come out. It's there to hold the cabinets level while they screw them into the wall. The next day, Hick put in the rest of the uppers.

I'm sure Hick will trim out that window after the sink and lower cabinets and backsplash are put in. That's the living room behind the ladder. And what looks like boxes with the rest of the cabinets.

The stove and refrigerator will fit along this wall, next to where the door goes into the new laundry room. On the other side of this wall are those open shelves in the laundry room. Hick needs that access to run wiring. Then it will get drywall. That contraption that looks like half an exercise bike is Hick's saw. 

I don't know what kind of handles Hick plans for the cabinets. I'm happy to see progress in the kitchen. Imagine how quick this project would have been done if Hick treated it like a regular job, and not three hours, four days a week!

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.