Not the Salad Days, but the Salads Day

I asked Hick to bring me a Senior Center lunch for my supper on Tuesday. They were having chicken salad. I love their chicken salad! Actually, the rest of the menu was not as appealing:

Chicken Salad Sandwich

3 Bean Salad

Potato Salad

Fruit Fluff

As I was telling The Pony on our 6:00 a.m. phone call, thrilled with anticipation, The Pony said: "That's a lot of salads." I agreed.

As I type this, I have not yet consumed my requested meal.  I did take a picture:

Hick said they gave everybody a LOT because not many people came to lunch. He brought home part of his chicken salad, a roll, and some potato salad. I volunteered Hick both of my rolls, which he ate for supper, and my potato salad, which he said to save for another night.

I plan to have some chicken salad on Nutty Oat Bread toast, and to try that 3 Bean Salad, of which I'm not a fan. I'm thinking of adding a little French Onion Dip, and sprinkle some Crispy Onions on top. The only Potato Salad I like is my own, so I'm not even tasting this. Hick also got my Fruit Fluff.

I think the fruit part of the Fruit Fluff might have been peaches. Not sure.

This might not be the best meal the Senior Center has offered, but it sure beats Monday's lunch. Even Hick was not a fan. "We had bologna and cheese on a tortilla." The official menu said they were serving:

Turkey & Cheese Wrap

Pasta Salad

Cottage Cheese

Fruit Cocktail w/Marshmallows

Anyhoo... I will have Chicken Salad left for Wednesday night's supper, when Hick won't be here. Hick is going to PLAY BINGO again! Maybe he'll send me a picture.

Next Stop, Litigation?

The tangled web of the Double Hovel flip house split needs to be unraveled. Unfortunately, the whole process of our request for a variance resembles a 1970s public service announcement showing a spider's LSD-induced structure!

You may recall that Hick was told by the city building inspector that he may be able to split the property if he got a variance from the Planning and Zoning Commission. Hick went to city hall, and got the necessary paperwork. He followed the instructions on the packet of papers the gal there gave him, and handed out his letter accordingly. Went to the meeting, and the variance was denied. That was January 15.

The mayor of that city contacted Hick for a meeting right after the recent election. Same mayor, some different members on the Commission. He said he'd call Hick after he checked into some details. That call came Thursday night.

Mayor said that it appears Hick's meeting back then was with the Board of Adjustment! What in the Not-Heaven? This was news to Hick, who said no, it was the Planning and Zoning Commission. "You were there!" said Hick.

Mayor said he remembered, but that he was sitting in the "audience" section, and would have been sitting together with the Commission if the meeting had been with them. Hick said they never announced what body was meeting. They only called roll, and one of his buddies who says he's on the Planning and Zoning Commission was absent that night. Well. Hick asked the buddy on Friday at lunch, who said now that he thinks of it, he is indeed on the Board of Adjustment.

Are you getting caught up in this tangle yet?

Mayor told Hick that if it had been the Planning and Zoning Commission, the verdict could be overturned with a certain vote. But that since it was a decision by the Board of Adjustment, following proper procedures, that the only way would be through the courts.

Hick said that he did NOT think "proper procedures" were followed. Since Hick never got any paperwork, his letter was not given to the board, the building inspector was not contacted for info, and all Hick had at the end of the meeting was just a verbal rejection of his request. So how could he have anything to appeal, even if he knew he had that right? How do you appeal a verbal decision? And as for "proper procedures," how did Hick's new enemy DENIZEN get a look at the packet of info for the hearing, and Hick did not?

In going back through the set of five pages of the city codes that Hick was given by the gal at city hall, Hick found references to both the Planning and Zoning Commission, and the Board of Adjustment. Plus a paragraph about appealing a decision within 20 days. The form Hick had to submit with our $125 fee to request a variance had a place the bottom for "Action Taken by Board of Adjustment." Yet Hick never received even that form back with a decision. 

Hick discussed these items with Mayor. They are on friendly terms. After all, Mayor contacted Hick to try to help him. Mayor said that legal options tend to get expensive. Yes. But as Hick said, he's spending around $100 a month on water and electric, without being able to split the houses and sell them. So he might as well spend money on a lawyer. 

I told Hick that maybe Mayor is worried about the city's legal fees. Hick says they have a lawyer on retainer. I said surely they would have to pay their lawyer by the hour to represent them in court. He is, after all, the MAYOR, and has to look out for city interests. So maybe he was trying to discourage Hick from taking this action to overturn the decision. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Both parties have to look out for their best interests.

Anyhoo... Hick went by our lawyer's office Friday afternoon, and got an appointment to discuss the matter on Tuesday. Just to see if there's a chance the variance issue might be re-opened. As Hick said, he did everything instructed on the procedures handed out to him by the gal at city hall. Seems like there was some confusion about what was actually going on. Hick missed an appeal deadline. Then again, he wouldn't have needed it if he was talking to the group he THOUGHT he was talking to about the variance. 

Tangled web, I tell you! Both parties made some fumbles. Hick has no beef with the city. He just wants to pursue all options to divide this property.

It doesn't hurt to ask a lawyer if we have any recourse concerning the decision on the variance. The only hurt is the pocketbook, with about a month-and-a-half of utility payments spent to meet with the lawyer.

Hick Attempts to Set a Record Straight

Val knows nothing about social media. Doesn't have any accounts. Doesn't want them. Used to be, that was a condition of her employment. Teachers can't be voicing their opinions to the public, heh, heh. Back then, that was the policy at my workplace. It doesn't mean all teachers obeyed that directive. 

Anyhoo... Hick uses Facebook to promote his business. To find bargains to sell, and bargains to fix up our flip houses. He's always getting notifications. I guess they might come from key words he has used. Like I said, I don't' know how all that works.

 

Anyhoo... a couple days ago, Hick saw that a gal had made a post complaining about the Senior Center apartments. To the best of my recollection, she said the apartments were dirty and full of mold and everybody knows it. Of course Hick took objection. He left her a message.

"I said that I have been the manager of those apartments for two months. That my phone number is posted on the door of my office there, and that I can be reached any time if there is a problem. That I have had no complaints about the condition of the apartments.

So then she put up a comment that 'He's only saying that to make me look bad.' Then she blocked me! So I don't know what else she might be saying.

I was up there at the apartments later, and two old ladies was moving out. I mentioned that Facebook and asked if they had any problem with mold. It was a mother and daughter. They said they was just moving because they wanted to get a two-bedroom apartment. They got one over in Bill-Paying Town. And the one old lady said about the Facebook: 'I'm so sorry you had to read that. It's my granddaughter. She does things like this all the time.'"

"Huh. So I wonder if they had said anything about mold?"

"I don't know. They didn't act like it. They just wanted a bigger apartment."

Hick can't go chasing down every person who might insult him. That's a thing teachers know all too well. Sometimes, what you don't know can't upset you...

One More Service Hick Provides

Right after Hick performed his refrigerator rescue for a tenant at his new workplace, he had another business phone call.

"It was some old guy over in Illinois. He's wanting to rent an apartment. Asked if I could show it to him at 7:00 tonight. I said no, that wasn't convenient, but that I could show it on Monday morning. He said he has to get out of the place he's living now, and wanted to come look at the apartment and move in. I told him it doesn't work that way. That I'll show him the apartment, and if he's interested, he can fill out an application, and then it will get reviewed. It doesn't happen instantly."

"He probably doesn't have anywhere to go. Like maybe he's in a medical place, and his insurance days are up. Or what if he's getting kicked out for not paying rent?"

"You never know. I feel bad for the guy, but he can't just say he'll take it, and move in. He said he was planning to come down here, get some money, and stay in a motel until he can move in. It's not my problem. I have to follow procedure, and check out applications before I rent something."

I don't think it's unreasonable to refuse to show an apartment at 7:00 p.m. on a Friday, upon several hours' notice. Hick gave the guy an appointment for the next business day, during normal business hours. His application may prove acceptable, or it may not. That's why they pay Hick the little bucks, for this service.

On Call with Handy Man Hick

Hick was at his Friday afternoon bull session with his buddies when he got a call from a resident of the Senior Center apartments.

"It was an old lady who said her refrigerator wasn't working. And that she'd just gotten back from shopping with a friend. She didn't want her food to go bad. I told her I'd be there in 20 minutes."

Let the record show that Hick was still in town. Another town, granted, from where the Senior Center is located. But towns around here are often right next to each other. Travel time was about 5 minutes. It may have taken Hick five more minutes to park and go upstairs to that lady's apartment. I suppose he was wrapping up his bull-shooting before leaving. After all, it was not an emergency. Nobody was trapped under a refrigerator. It was not emitting sparks. Food should not spoil in 20 minutes.

"I saw the problem when I got there. The refrigerator door was not closing all the way. The lady said her son had been there helping her move some furniture. I guess he must have bumped that refrigerator. It was up against the wall, which prevented the door from closing all the way. I moved it a little bit, and it worked. I told the lady, 'See? The cool air is coming out.' She agreed. Everyone was happy, and I left."

Huh. Hold on there a minute. This didn't make sense to me. I don't doubt Hick's talents as a handy man. But I am no dummy where physics is concerned.

"Wait. I can see how being against the wall could keep a fridge door from OPENING. But closing? I don't think a door sticks out. It's flush with the side of the refrigerator. I'm looking at mine right now. Being against the wall shouldn't keep it from closing."

"It was a two-door refrigerator. The little freezer door on top, and then the refrigerator door on bottom. Maybe it was the hinge. But it wasn't closing all the way until I moved the refrigerator away from the wall a little bit."

"I'm still not seeing it. And what do you mean the cool air was coming out? Wouldn't that mean something is wrong with the fridge? Like the door isn't sealing?"

"You could feel with your hand that there was cool air coming out from the door."

"Maybe if it was open. But that shouldn't happen when it's closed!"

I did not get satisfactory answers from Hick. We know he has trouble communicating what he really means. He has no reason to make up stuff. HE'S the one who volunteered information about getting that call before he started home. It just doesn't make sense to me.

At least the resident of the Senior Center apartments was happy with Hick's "repairs."

Val Reaches Her Limit

All week, I've been getting calls on my cell phone from a number I don't recognize. Never leaves a message. Just calls five or six times a day. My phone even warns me: SCAM LIKELY. I don't answer numbers I don't recognize. Not even if they're within my area code, and with a local prefix. I figure if it's important, they'll leave a voice mail.

This call is disruptive when it comes as I am driving, or in the shower. I can't see my phone then, and worry that it might be Hick or The Pony needing something. I don't like to answer scam calls, because then the scammer knows it's an active number.

I was putting away groceries on Thursday evening, with my phone on the charger on the kitchen counter. I saw that it was THAT number again. Before my common sense could stop me, I swiped to answer that call. I did NOT use my indoor voice.

"HELLO! WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME!!!"

"Hello, Val. This is Ryan. We will be inspecting roofs tomorrow--"

"WHY? Why would you inspect my roof?"

"There have been a lot of people with roof damage after the recent storms--"

"WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?"

"I'm Ryan. We will be in your area tomorrow--"

"WHY are you calling random people about their roof?"

"Val, do you know the approximate age of your roof?"

"Don't ever call me again! I don't know what kind of SCAM this is, but--"

Whoopsie! Ryan hung up on me! Can you believe that???

I know I shouldn't have answered, but this number was not getting the message that I don't answer, heh, heh! I'm tired of checking my phone to see if it's somebody important. In fact, this call comes from a couple of different numbers, but they all show up as Eminence, Missouri. Blocking one would not stop all the numbers they might use. I THINK maybe I made it clear that they won't be getting my info.

If this was a legitimate call or service, Ryan would have said who he was affiliated with. Insurance companies don't send out random crews to inspect roofs. Nor do agencies like FEMA. You have to file a claim with them. I'm pretty sure random roofers don't waste their gas money driving around to look at roofs, and give estimates to homeowners.

It sure felt good to let my feelings out. So sorry if I hurt Ryan's precious feelings. Okay. No, I'm not! And I'm pretty sure his name isn't really Ryan.

A Partnership Forged in Not-Heaven?

Hick did some work at his new workplace recently. He installed a light for an old lady. He turned in his expenses to the city. 

"When I got my check, I thought somethin' didn't look right. My receipts were for a little over a hundred dollars. Maybe $104 or $106 and change. But the check they gave me was only for $90-something. I got to looking at it, and they only paid me for the materials. Not for the sales tax! I guess I'm expected to eat that!"

"Oh. They probably have a tax-exempt account. Like when we used to go buy our local supplies for school. We had to get the tax-exempt card from the principal to take to Walmart. You probably needed at least the city's tax-exempt number to buy the stuff without being taxed."

"Maybe. Nobody told me that."

Here's the thing. Somebody is not communicating the procedures to Hick. Maybe it's 50-50, and he needs to make a list of questions to ask, so he knows what's expected. Or maybe somebody there is just trying to make it hard for Hick to do his new job.

Hick worked for 20 years in a factory, head of the maintenance department, buying machines and equipment, shipping them internationally, responsible for millions of dollars over those years. He was on safety committees, worked closely with local fire departments and police departments and city government. He did not, however, have to deal with tax-exempt accounts. I'd say many people in the private business sector are not aware of such minutia. In Hick's world, if he spends his own money to buy something for a "client," he will receive all his expenditures back by reimbursement.

Hick was yesterday-years-old when he learned about this topic.

IF that's what kept Hick from getting full reimbursement for his repair expenditures.

Look Away, Look Away, Look Away, Queasy Fans

Sorry for the thumbnail pic, but Blogger insists on using the first picture of the post. If you do not like gore, move along! Do not read any further! If you have been following The Pony's journey as a mail carrier, and don't mind blood and guts, proceed. I promise you there are no guts.

Saturday evening, I got a text from The Pony.

"Forgot to text. Got home early. Messed my knee up a bit around 11:00, cleaned and bandaged it up at the appliance store next to the license office, and got permission to go to parcels and then home early after it started really bothering me."

"Okay. Hope you feel better."

Well. What I DIDN'T know was that The Pony sent Hick pictures of his injury right after it happened. How dare Hick be informed before ME!!! I am the one who keeps The Pony safe with all my worrying! Hick showed me the pictures. When I asked The Pony the next day, he said he didn't want to upset me with the blood.

According to The Pony, he was delivering mail to a house where he had fallen before.

"It feels like the house might collapse. There's a door that will slam and shake the whole porch. I make sure I let it close easy. I was turning around to go down the steps when I did it, and I fell. Luckily nothing really hurt bad. Just the skin off my knee. I went to the appliance store, and asked if I could use their bathroom to clean up. They gave me a couple of bandaids. I kept going on my route, for about two miles, until my knee really started hurting. That's when I asked if I could just deliver the packages, then leave because of the injury."

It didn't look too bad in this picture right after The Pony washed the knee at the appliance store. Nor when the bandaids were first applied:

Of course, walking two miles on a fresh injury, going up and down steps, getting in and out of a mini-van, will make that fresh wound weep. I can understand why The Pony asked to leave early. Sunday was a day off. And on Monday, The Pony showed the state of the knee.

"Current state. Featuring dried trail of drainage I didn't notice until now."

"The texture of the wound looks like hamburger!"

On Monday evening, The Pony sent another picture:

"Might stop at the doctor on my route about the knee tomorrow. Since orange isn't a normal color."

"You might need antibiotics. Orange could just be blood and pus mixed."

"Yeah. That's my assumption. Better safe than sorry at any real risk of infection."

"Yes!"

"Hasn't been any blood since yesterday morning. Just the clear to yellow drainage that's normal, until this orange today."

"It had PLANTS in the wound, first picture!"

"Yeah. They were wiped out fast but couldn't do any ointment until hours later whe and in then I got home."

"Might want to carry that with you!"

"I did for a long time. Then I cleaned out my bag."

The Pony DID stop at the doctor's office on the route.

"Nurses said it looks a little infected, but not 'need a doctor' infected yet. Suggested to keep doing what I'm doing (Neosporin, keeping it uncovered at home) and to do peroxide tonight and in the morning (or before and after a shower) just to clear out whatever's in there."

"And go back if it gets worse!"

"Yeah. They said to just keep an eye on it and they could check it when I come in each day delivering."

"That's good service!"

"And it's without charge since it's just asking the nurses!"

Saturday evening, The Pony sent another picture. This is one week after the injury:

"Getting a bit worried about my knee. But I'll trust the nurses that said it should be fine without anything stronger."

"It looks like normal pus. Keep it clean and use the ointment. You can ask again on Monday. Dead cells have to slough to make room for new skin!"

So far, I haven't heard if The Pony asked the nurses about his wound. At least it looks like it's healing around the edges. I think it might take a while.

Belly Up to the Trough, and Strap on the Ol' Feedbag

The Pony joined us for Easter Dinner. Hick of course spent the morning and afternoon selling at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), then joined us around 3:30. He didn't miss anything. We were still putting the finishing touches on the meal, having spent two hours on the deviled eggs, and another hour on the 7 Layer Salad.

Can you see all 7 layers? This is the next day, after we've eaten part of it. Not The Pony. That's The Pony's bottle of Caesar dressing that he forgot to take home. The Pony makes his own salad. Anyhoo... starting at the bottom, there's Romaine lettuce, green onions, boiled eggs, peas, mayo, shredded cheddar, and bacon.

I made a surprise dessert for The Pony. It was hard keeping the secret. Oreo Cake! Not that it's hard to make. I use a box mix. Usually triple chocolate, but the store was out, so I used Devil's Food. This is what was left as Hick drove The Pony home later:

Hick and The Pony each ate a generous slice. Then The Pony packed up half the cake to take home. I'm not complaining. I don't like this cake. Not a fan of Oreos. But look...

Big chunks of Oreo in the cake. Some people crave it. Like The Pony, Hick, Genius, Friend, and my niece, Niecy. 

Hick loaded up his plate with threes, it appears:

Three deviled eggs, three rolls, three chunks of expired ham. I suppose he ate a piece of the pepper jack cheese before The Pony snapped the picture. Hick also has stuffing, roasted vegetables, and 7 Layer Salad. Looks like he's about reached the bottom of his Wild Turkey and Shasta Zero Sugar.

The Pony was drinking water at this point, having enjoyed some dark rum and Coke during meal preparations.

Once again, The Pony has a private pan of Sister Schubert's Rolls. Lots of the roasted vegetables, a generous portion of stuffing, deviled eggs looking at him, a mini ham sandwich, and some pepper jack and Swiss cheese waiting for other sandwiches. The salad was from a bag, with a diced boiled egg and some shredded sharp cheddar, with Caesar dressing and crispy onions.

My plate is boring by comparison, but I had what I prefer:

Hick's FREE expired ham was quite delicious. As were the roasted vegetables, rolls, and deviled egg. My favorite, though, it the 7 Layer Salad. For dessert, I had a slice of the lemon cake bread thingy that's in the picture behind the Oreo Cake.

We'll be having leftovers all week, and there's a pot of beans and ham in the future.

Too Busy to Tell Tales

Sunday was a busy day. My schedule of slothfulness was thrown off! I went to town early to pick up The Pony to help me get Easter dinner ready. I'd show you pictures, but The Pony took them, and didn't send them to me! Maybe later. At least The Pony was a big help in fetching ingredients for me, so I didn't have to stand at the kitchen counter. Well... except to wash dishes later. 

Hick went to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) as usual. His cronies make fun of him for working on holidays and rainy days and through the winter. Hick had the last laugh, doing over $300 in business on Saturday, during more flooding and rain all day. He had put on Facebook a picture of his wares, and said he was open for business, and to come see him. One guy rushed down there because he's a knife collector, and was impressed by Hick's inventory of Case pocket knives.

The Pony is trying to recover from an injury last Saturday. That might be an upcoming tale. If you are easily queasy, you might want to avoid that one!

Anyhoo... I'm tired, and have nothing more to reveal at this time.

A Second Chance?

The sun shines on a dog's rumpus some days. It seems to shine on Hick's rumpus more. Early in the week, Hick startled me by announcing:

"I have a meeting with the mayor on Thursday. He said to come and see him after the election."

"Wait a minute! I thought the mayor was a woman."

"No. The mayor about the flip house."

"Oh. The one you let put the sign in the yards? He won?"

"No. He didn't win. It's the old mayor."

"So why would he tell you to come see him?"

"He didn't tell ME. I heard it from my friends at the Senior Center at lunch. 

Happy Smith." 

"I'm not following. WHO is THAT?"

"I went to school with her."

"Like I would know that."

"You know her. She was a teacher at your school. You probably know her married name. Happy Jones."

"Oh. I know her. What does she have to do with the mayor in flip-house town?"

"Sometimes her and her husband come to lunch. He told me I need to talk to the mayor."

"Why? Why is the mayor talking to him about your business?"

"The mayor was at the meeting where the city commission denied us splitting the flip house into two properties."

"But why is the mayor telling someone to tell you to come talk to him???"

"They're related."

"Happy Smith?"

"No. Her husband."

"So Happy's husband is the mayor's son?"

"No."

"Grandson?"

"No. Happy's husband is the mayor's dad."

"Would he change his mind on splitting the property? Why would he want you to come talk to him?"

"He must not have agreed with the commission's decision. The commission was trying to get him fired! And now some of them didn't get elected back."

"Oh. So maybe the mayor just wants a big F-YOU to the commission? By going against what they wanted?"

"Maybe. It can't hurt to go talk to him."

"Yeah. Don't cost nothin'."

Hick had his meeting with this mayor. He hasn't given much info on what was actually discussed. As you notice by this conversation, I need to have a list of questions prepared. Hick is not known for his attention to detail, nor his conversational skills.

So far, all I know is that the mayor will call Hick. Or that Hick is supposed to call the mayor. There MAY be another committee/commission to approach.

Hick Hams it up at Bingo

Hick is excited about the return of bingo at the Senior Center. You may recall how he seemed to win a lot of stuff every time he played. Until he didn't... 

"We've got somebody new running the bingo. They're supposed to be giving away three hams. Honey hams! I'm playing today!" Hick said on Wednesday.

"WHAT? Maybe that's why I can't find a honey ham anywhere. I've looked at three stores, but only found hickory smoked. I got two, because you know we'll send one home with The Pony. They're half hams. Boneless, since that's all you ever want. Around five pounds."

Of course Hick had to send me a text of his winnings:

"I won a ham. I just won two smart watches and a little cake."

There are his smart watches, with multiple bands. He'll probably sell them at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). The "little cake" turned out to be petit fours.

This is later that night, after Hick ate two of the vanilla kind. I pointed out that it was April 16, and the date on the packages said they were "best by" April 13. Not a problem for Hick. Or me... I ate a chocolate one last night, and it was pretty good.

The ham came in a box. I told Hick that I had made room for it in the bottom of FRIG II, but to take it out of the box so it would fit.

"Take it out? Well. I guess it will be all right." He took his pocket knife, even though he was standing at the kitchen counter, with a butcher knife and bread knife handy. Sliced open the box. "Oh. It's wrapped."

What in the actual NOT-HEAVEN was Hick expecting? A naked ham sitting in a cardboard box?

It was NOT a honey ham! Now we have three hams. This is the biggest.  About 10 pounds. You might note that the white print at the bottom says to "use or freeze by Feb 01, 2025." I suppose it will be all right. Surely they had it frozen until the giveaway, wouldn't you think? We will eat it first, and I can freeze our others. Heh, heh. I'm kind of liking that it's a bone-in ham!

I suppose Hick might have questioned the age of the ham, when he picked up the box to bring it home:

Then again, Hick is not known for his attention to detail.

Val Refuses to Give in to Temptation

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

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

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

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

Hick Holds On

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

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

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

Hick said he tried to be polite when he started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We'll See If Hick Can Hold a Job

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kind of a Jack-Rumpus, But Not

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Risk VS Reward, I Suppose

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

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

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

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

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

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

It Blew Nobody Any Good

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Genderational Study at the Supermarket

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Lost Skill

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How can people be so bad at parking???

I Suppose the Novelty Has Worn Off

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What else did you have to eat?"

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

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

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

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

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

Another Grilling of Hick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hick the Matchmaker (Not)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How old is she?"

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

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

The Creeks Are Up

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

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

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

On Saturday, the water was higher.

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

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

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

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

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