Val Saving Time

We have a clock hanging on the front wall of the living room. A regular clock, not some digital monstrosity, a tall rectangle trimmed with oak wood, about 12" x 8". It's balanced on a thin nail that Hick tapped into the drywall. Not even on a stud. When you take the clock down to fall back an hour, you sometimes have to make several tries to hang it back up, because the thin nail goes flush into the wall, and you have to pull it back out.

Right now I can't get to that clock. When we brought my OPC (Old People Chair) up from the basement, we rearranged the living room. Now the short couch sits under the front window, making a backwards upside-down L with the long couch. The coffee table is in front of the short couch. Which leaves just one cushion of the long couch for sitting, and none of the short couch, unless you sidestep the gap between it and the coffee table.

It's just as well that all the legroom is blocked for sitting on the long couch. Because Hick has a stack of clean folded laundry on the third cushion, and empty Amazon packing boxes/envelopes on the second cushion. I swear, another couple layers, and a lot of grime, and we will have a hoarder house. I do not hold myself responsible! Hick is a grown man, capable of putting away his laundry, and walking his trash to the wastebasket. I figure my duty was done when I ordered the contents for him, those being Copper Fit knee braces, and support socks.

Anyhoo... when Hick made a pitstop here between his sleep study and SUS2.5 on Sunday morning, I pointed out the clock.

"I would have set that for Daylight Savings Time, but I can't get to it! I can't get through the barricade. If you get it down, I'll reset it."

"Huh."

As he was leaving, Hick walked behind the long couch. He leaned over the back, and somehow snagged the clock by the bottom right corner. Hick is an inch or two shorter than I am. Who knew his arms could reach so far? He must be part orangutan.

Anyhoo... Hick got the clock off the wall, and then started spinning the hands back!

"Oh, no! You'll never get it right. I like it just how it was. Two minutes fast. That's how I'm used to judging my time."

"There. It's fine."

"Well. We'll see when this show goes off, and the next one comes on."

Hick put the clock back on the wall with one try! Even I was impressed. Off he went.

I dozed off and on. Checked my phone for emails. Watched a little TV. Glanced at the clock to see how much time I had left before my dishwashing routine around 7:10.

What in the Not-Heaven? I'd been glancing at that clock every now and then. It seemed like I had a lot of time. I attributed that to gaining an hour with the time change. Then I noticed that the clock had stayed the same. The hands hadn't moved since Hick had reset it! Now it was 7:25, but the clock showed 5:40. The secondhand was not moving.

I got a new battery from the kitchen drawer. Leaned over the back of the long couch to grab the clock using Hick's technique. I had the corner. Got it off the nail. Then it tumbled out of my hand, bounced off the stack of laundry, and landed on the floor behind the short couch! It might as well have been buried beneath the Great Pyramid of Cheops!

This was not going to work for me all day. I needed that clock. I began an expedition and excavation. I couldn't get to the crack between the short couch and long couch, because Hick had a heavy box full of paper forms for his merchandise. They're free for the ordering, and required to sell certain items. But he has not yet taken them to the SUS2.5. The box was keeping my feet from getting me close enough to lean over and reach the clock.

I finally maneuvered the box under the coffee table far enough to get a foot in position. I balanced with an arm on the arm of the short couch, and managed to get a grip on the clock. I put in the new battery and set it two minutes ahead of the time on my phone. No way was I trying to hang the clock on the wall, and risk losing it again.

I moved Hick's trash over onto the one sitting cushion, where he sometimes likes to eat his supper, and usually sits every weekday morning between 5:45 and 6:10. That way, I was able to balance the clock on the pile of laundry. I couldn't see it from my kitchen table with HIPPIE, but I could see it from my OPC.

That evening, I explained to Hick what had happened. He hung the clock on the wall (ONE try again!), and piled his trash back on the middle cushion and laundry pile.

Val Saving Time does not include Val altering the Space-Time Continuum to a period where Hick picks up his own trash.

I Wouldn't Call It Beauty Sleep

Hick spent Halloween night 30 miles away in a hospital. It had been planned for months. He needed a sleep study in order to get a replacement "breather." That's what I call his C-PAP machine. 

Here's something spooky for you... Hick's current breather is one he got from a dead man. His old breather quit working. I forget if he found the dead man's breather at an auction or a flea market. Of course he washed the mask part of it. It was different from his, and he didn't know for sure what setting to put it on. Lately it hadn't been working as well. Hick said he was more tired when he woke up than when he went to bed. 

Anyhoo... to get a new breather, Hick's doctor nurse practitioner said he had to have a sleep study to verify that he needed it. She said somebody could come to the house and do it. Or maybe she just said Hick could do it at home. Hick wanted the actually study at the sleep center of the hospital, like he had before. At a different hospital. It took over three months to get this appointment.

"My buddies down at the locker said I'd probably wish I'd just done it at home with a ring. That's what they say. It's just a ring you wear. I'd rather make sure it gets done right."

Hick left home at 6:45, to make sure he got to the hospital by 8:00 p.m. He took along shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in. Said it was 8:30 before the nurse came in to hook him up. She asked if he was watching Ghost Hunters. He said NO. 

"One of my buddies said they let him go home at 1:00. Said they had all the information they needed. I was up three times for the bathroom. Every now and then the gal come in and adjusted the machine. She said it needs to be set on 12. I think the one I've been using is set on 7. So if I'd just done the home study, I doubt they would have figured out the right setting."

Hick sent me a text at 4:28 a.m. that he was on the way home. Got here around 5:15. He said he was taking a shower, because his head was sticky. I was tired, and didn't pursue that revelation. I guess maybe they stuck some kind of sensors on his head?

"I don't think I had a good night's sleep. But I sure did dream a lot."

Again. No elaboration. Hick packed his lunch for the SUS2.5, and was out of here by shortly after 6:00. I forgot to ask if the staff was wearing Halloween costumes.

Halloween Back in the Day

Friday was bright and sunny, 72 degrees. It had the look of fall. Not from our trees, which don't show much color this year due to little rain. But the sky, and the angle of the sun were very fall-like. Plus I smelled smoke from burning leaves. I don't know how. I was on blacktop parking lots at 10Box and the Gas Station Chicken Store. Not exactly a residential neighborhood. The country people around us know not to be burning now, unless they want to risk an out-of-control wildfire.

Anyhoo... that smell took me back to Halloween when I was a kid in the 1960s. We always smelled burning leaves when trick-or-treating. None of that daytime stuff for us! We had to wait until dark. That's back when daylight savings time came before the first weekend in November. So the wait wasn't long. We always had supper at 5:10. That's the time my dad got home from work. By the time supper was done, it was plenty dark for trick-or-treating.

Our costumes came from Woolworths. The kind in a see-through box, with a plastic mask on a thin elastic strap. I can't remember what I was. Most often a witch, I guess, because that's all that comes to mind. No pretty princess for me. That was my sister, 18 months younger than me. We had a big fight one year when I told her she had boy toes. Sometimes I was just a ghost under a sheet. Which coordinated well with the pillowcase I toted to collect candy.

OH, the CANDY! That's the main purpose, you know. Getting candy. Not dressing up, or walking around at night getting spooked. Eventually we got the plastic pumpkins to hold our bounty. It seemed like a lot more in a pillowcase. 

My dad always took us. He'd follow about 10 feet behind, staying in the shadows, on the main sidewalk, letting us go up on the porches. There were throngs of kids. Mom stayed home to hand out candy. We traveled our street, and the next street over. Four blocks of each. Not every house had the porch light on, but most did. You knew the old spinster ladies would be giving out popcorn balls. Or apples. Or even worse, PENNIES!

When we got home, all the candy got dumped out. We were careful to keep our piles separate. Then the bargaining began. Sometimes I could persuade my sister to trade. Sometimes not. Mom and Dad got the things we didn't like. Which wasn't much!

Chocolate was the best. Especially if you got a FULL SIZE HERSHEY BAR. Mostly they were the "fun size," which were bigger back then than they are now. I liked the Baby Ruths best. Then 3 Musketeers. Milky Way was just okay. And Butterfingers I would trade. I'd also trade the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Sugar Daddy suckers were on the trade list, but I'd keep Sugar Babies. I couldn't get rid of those black and orange wrapped chewy candies fast enough. I hated them. They were like caramel with a dab of peanut butter inside. Nor did I like the big square banana chewy candy, or Now and Laters. I hated Necco Wafers. And the Boston Baked Beans. Plain caramels.

Candy corn was fine with me. And Safe T Pops and Dum Dums and Tootsie Pops. Tootsie Rolls were good, especially the fruit flavors. Lemon Heads were good. The mini jawbreakers that came in a box, or the big individually wrapped jawbreakers were keepers. Root Beer Barrels. Smarties. Wax Lips. The little boxes of chalky "cigarette" candy.  And Twizzlers. Any kind of gum. Chick O Sticks. Milk Duds. Little bags of jellybeans. The Bit-O-Honey was something I'd try to trade for. Usually successfully.

In the years before the plastic pumpkin containers, our pillowcase candy was put into a shoebox and set on the counter above the kitchen sink, for browsing through as we wanted. Mom and Dad didn't steal our candy. I imagine they just ate what was left over from our handing-out candy. And poocorn balls and apples! We didn't have any rules about when we could eat it. Our stash just dwindled a little each day, until we finished off the least-favorites.

It was a different time. Kids could wander the streets, knock on doors, and eat candy from strangers. All it takes is the smell of leaf smoke to transport me back.

Not the Harem

Hick was getting his plate for supper on Thursday, and started chuckling.

"There's this guy at the Senior Center. He calls himself a preacher. He come down for his lunch. I watched him going back upstairs. He stopped by the salad bar and took a stack of plates a couple inches high."

"I guess maybe he didn't want his plate to collapse."

"The salad bar wasn't even open! It's only open a couple days a week."

"So they leave the plates sitting there?"

"Yeah. They're styrofoam plates. He probably had ten of them at least."

"You mean after he ate, he walked by and took empty plates?"

"He don't eat down there. He usually comes down and gets his in a to-go container, and takes it upstairs."

"I guess maybe he wants to have a normal meal on a plate."

"He took enough of them!"

"Is he one of your Harem?"

"Nah, he don't talk to nobody much."

I don't really see a problem with this. The guy might want to sit at the table and eat off a plate, not out of a container. It's not like he's selling them out of the alley in a trenchcoat, or using them to build a beer cooler. That I know of...

No Longer Even Trying to Hide His Intentions

I got a text from Hick on Thursday morning at 8:58.

"I got the heating and cooling price this morning $9,000.00 for Cheap House"

"That's a lot."

"No i thought it was reasonable."

"I mean for a house that was supposed to be a clean-out and sell."

No further response. In case there was ever any doubt... Hick has clandestinely planned all along to keep Cheap House and fix it up completely before listing it! I can't imagine why else anybody would call a heating and cooling company and let them in the house to give an estimate. It's not something you do for kicks.

I suppose Hick was trying to be on his best texting behavior. He didn't have any spelling errors. And when I might have just put the amount as $9000, Hick made sure to send it as $9,000.00, as if that might make it seem less. With the .00, you know!

I should have known when Hick ordered $423.39 worth of insulation this month. And when I asked for clarification in itemizing expenses for Lap House and Cheap House, Hick said it was all for Cheap House. It's not something I would have expected for a house being sold to a flipper.

I haven't talked to The Pony about it yet. One thing I'm sure we'll agree on is: THEN GET TO WORK AND GET ONE OF THOSE FLIP HOUSES FINISHED AND LISTED!!! Because now we're looking at winter, and a new set of bills if Hick plans to heat Cheap House. This piecemeal working at one place then the other is not at all efficient. Especially at three hours a day, four days a week.

Three People, 60 Votes

Hick nabbed the last handicap space at the Voting Center. He usually drops me off at the door, then has to park in the lot behind the building. "Looks like they're not too crowded today," he said. JINX!

I took my cane, telling The Pony that I felt fine walking, but didn't know about standing if we had to wait. We started across the driveway towards the door. "I'm trying to hurry, Pony. To beat those people." It was a grandma, mom, dad, and girl toddler coming from the parking lot. We did beat them, by about four steps.

Of course Hick knew one of the ladies coming out. She spoke to him, and said, "Lucky I came early. NOW there's a line."

Indeed. A line backed up through the second sliding glass automatic door. We fell in line, as did the people with the screaming toddler behind us. The line moved a bit, getting me inside the door. The Pony, a credit to Gen Z, sidled up from behind Hick to stand at my right shoulder. Then stepped in front of me as the line moved again. Oh well. I was 10th 11th in line. Insignificant to you city voters, but quite a line for us.

We could see inside the voting room. There were 8 white plastic tables, with 3 chairs at each one. Blue ink pens were on the table to fill out the ballots. Only three per table. No electronic voting machines. All paper here. Along the right wall of the voting room were long tables with election workers. They were in pairs. As somebody would pick up their ballot, the workers would look out the door, hold up a hand, and say, "We can help who's next."

I knew to have my ID ready when my turn was called. Unfortunately, I had reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out my debit card instead. "Oops! You don't want my debit card!" It took one second to drop it back in my pocket and grab my driver's license. The worker who took it was sour-faced. Like I had planned it and was trying out a stand-up routine.

Worker 1 scanned my driver's license. Her little screen brought up my name and address. She turned it and asked me to sign if it was correct. I used a little rubber-tipped half-pen that was in a pile of five or six on the table. A pink one. Worker 1 turned and printed out a ballot from a machine behind her. She and Worker 2 used red pens to put their initials in two boxes at the top of my ballot. They printed out a receipt from the thingy where they had scanned my driver's license, and laid that receipt face-down on a stack of them. "Take this to a table to vote. Pens are on the table. Then feed it to the machine at the back when you're done."

The Pony was at a thin brown table along the back wall, near the ballot scanner. I didn't like the looks of the chairs there. Folding plastic, and low. I chose a white table at the back, which had the molded blue plastic and metal chairs that we had in purple in our school cafeteria. Hick followed a few minutes later, and sat across from me. He said something about one of the names on the ballot.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to talk!"

"Oh, well."

The ballot was front and back, but didn't take long to fill out. I had looked at a sample ballot online the day before, and knew my choices. Our local ballot had:

State Auditor

U.S. Rep

State rep

Circuit Judge

Presiding Commissioner

County Clerk

Circuit Clerk

Recorder of Deeds

Prosecuting Attorney

County Collector

County Auditor

Should judge be retained in office? 4 of them to vote on 

4 Amendments to the Missouri Constitution

1 Proposition

There were 20 things to vote for. Eight of the races had only one candidate. Not hard to choose, since I didn't plan to write in any other choices. I always vote to retain the judges, unless there's been some controversy. I figure it's more efficient than somebody new taking over. Hick always votes to NOT retain judges, becausehe doesn't want them to become corrupt. I guess The Pony broke our tie, though I don't know which way. As for the amendments and proposition, I had researched my issues, and gave two NO and three YES.

I was done first. It only took me two tries to get up out of that chair. I was right behind The Pony to feed my ballot into the scanner. A worker man told me to wait until the light turned from red to green. Then in it went, sucked like (oversized) money into a scratcher machine. Hick followed a few minutes later, as The Pony and I waited in the hall outside the back door of the voting room. It was all very efficient.

The whole process was easy peasy. Except maybe for the 40-mile round trip. A little longer, because of a sidetrack to pick up The Pony. Who took an "I Voted" sticker. Hick and I did not. It feels different when you vote early, and not in a horde on election day.

Centralized Casting

Thevictorians are off to cast our votes en masse this afternoon. We have no-excuse, in-person early voting in Missouri for two weeks before the election. You don't have to give a reason. Just show up at the designated voting place, present your picture ID, and fill out your ballot. That's assuming you have indeed been registered to vote by Oct 7th this year. Mailed absentee ballots require a qualifying reason, must be notarized, and received by the election officials by 5:00 p.m. Nov 2nd.

I like this opportunity. In the past, our voting precinct was the basement of an old church about two miles farther in the middle of nowhere from our hillbilly mansion. In my younger years, it was not a problem. The biggest issue was getting there on time after (or usually before) work on election day, and the limited parking. Then my knees grew more contrary, and descending the carpeted steps was a problem. The Pony used to vote at the firehouse in Sis-Town. It's four blocks from Pony House. Now that also is not an option. 

The county re-designed (or whatever you might call it) the voting process. Voting is more centralized, not spread out in assorted "townships," at places like churches, libraries, rec halls, etc. Now there are only four locations in our county where you may vote. I imagine they will be quite crowded on actual election day. One is the local junior college, and two are the largest high schools in our county. The Voting Center is the only place that offers the early voting, from 8:00 to 4:00, Monday-Friday, from Oct 20th to Nov 1st. Regular voting hours apply on Nov 2nd, 6:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.

Now we just pick a time to drive the 20 miles down to Bill-Paying Town, and vote early in the converted old morgue. Which is now called simply: Voting Center. There are no steps. Just a little ramp to the sidewalk, and automatic sliding glass doors. Heh, heh! I require the modifications once needed to transport a corpse.

Anyhoo... I'll let you know how it goes.

There's a Second FREEBIE Magnet in Thevictorian Household

Hick is not the only family member with a FREEBIE magnet. Val can score an item or two herself. That's not even counting the countless pens she helps herself to at flip house closings, or off the counter of her credit union.

Of course, Hick has way more opportunities to get FREE stuff. He has a freakin' HAREM, by cracky! But Val has her lottery. And she's a regular at the Gas Station Chicken Store. Last month, I stepped up to the counter as usual to cash in some winners, and buy more scratchers. The girl working was not my favorite, Fave. But the other girl, Other Girl.

Other Girl rang up my tickets. Then she reached over to her right, just past the glass case that holds the lottery tickets. The area of the counter with display boxes of seasonal treats. She picked up a blue object.

"Would you like a koozie?"

At first I was shocked. Other Girl isn't always so bright and friendly to me. She's no Fave. She's always courteous, but doesn't go out of her way to pretend we're buddies.

"Sure!"

"Be careful, there's a magnet on the back. Just so you know."

It was a promotional item for the MO Millions draw game. I don't play it. I don't need a koozie, either. But I'm not passing up something for FREE! It was the last one left. I imagine she'd had a stack there for a couple days that I hadn't noticed.

Indeed, there's a magnet on the back. I guess I can stick it on FRIG II. I tried to put a can of beer in it for Hick, but I couldn't do it. Maybe the koozie just needs to be stretched a bit. I think it will work better for bottles, which Hick usually drinks from.

I bet nobody can figure out who that singer is in the background on my Spotify screen. I'm a bettin' woman, you know. But I don't plan to pay up if somebody is psychic and figures it out.

Handicap Parkers of a Different Sort

Now I must form a special task force within my Handicap Parking Police. A new species of rumpusholes has emerged. Must be some type of weird mutation. I assume that at one time they were regular handicap parker rumpusholes, but somehow lost the use of their vehicles.

The Pony and I were making a quick stop at Save A Lot on Errand Day. There were a couple items I was looking for, like sardines in mustard sauce, and animal cookies for Hick's weekend lunches. I also wanted some scratchers from their machine. 

BOTH HANDICAP SPACES WERE TAKEN!

I had to park T-Hoe in the second row out in front of the store. The Pony volunteered to run in for me, so I said just to get my scratchers. No need to make The Pony actually shop. As I was waiting, that black car pulled in and parked. It was not in a space. Just parked there, at the end of a row. Shame on them. But we're not here for a random shaming today. We are concerned with what's on the other side of that black car. Over in the two handicap spaces.

Those two people have parked their rumpuses on the concrete bumper of my rightful handicap space! And they KNEW what they were doing! Way down past that other black car is the entrance where I came in, because the main entrance was blocked by a truck pulling out. The guy of this duo was actuall sitting on the OTHER handicap parking space bumper. Both people looked at me as I drove by, with my bright blue handicap placard swinging.

After we parked, The Pony went in and I watched that dude get up and move over by his woman. Oh, I COULD have steered T-Hoe into one of those handicap spaces, rather than driving by. Hopefully stopping before T-Hoe's grill bashed them in the face. They could have scurried away. But that would have been a rumpushole move by ME. And I try to reign in such drastic behavior, no matter how satisfying it would be.

They weren't homeless people with all their belongings on their back, or in a borrowed cart. Just two shoppers who'd been to the Dollar Store that's also in this mini mall, who had stopped to have a smoke and check their phone. Probably on the way back to an apartment building down the street. If the guy had bothered to move when he first saw me, I could have parked in the space he vacated.

The Universe is getting quite creative in ways to thwart my parking.

A Harem-Adjacent Friday Night for Hick

Hick's Harem didn't call Friday night! Or if they did, I was not privy (heh, heh, I said 'privy') to such information. Hick wasn't home! So I couldn't eavesdrop hear if such a call was received. No, Hick didn't arrive until 7:10. He missed 10 minutes of his Gold Rush show! And do you know why? Hick was servicing his Harem!

"Val i have two guys moving two couches in the apartments they are meeting me at 6 so it will be 7-730"

That's the text I got at 2:07, alerting me that Hick would be late, so I knew to hold off making his supper at the regular time. I knew he had been talking about switching couches in two of the senior apartments. But I didn't know why he needed guys to meet him, when he had his work crew of Old Buddy and HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) doing the work with him through the week. 

At 5:00, I sent Hick a text letting him know that I had already charged Pepper's skunky collar, so he didn't take the collar off when he got home later. Hick replied right away, so I figured he was at his Friday afternoon bull-shooting session with his buddies, and not driving or making deals at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) until 6:00. I called him.

"What couches are you moving?"

"I told you about taking the one out of the dog lady's apartment, and trading it with another gal."

"I know. But why are you doing it now? Why do you need two guys instead of Old Buddy and HOS?"

"Because Old Buddy cain't lift his end of it. He tried on Thursday, but couldn't do it. I'm not going to hurt myself trying to lift it. So I got these two young boys. Well. One is 18, and one is 19. They buy stuff from me at my store. I said I had to move two couches, and they said they'd do it. I have to wait, because one doesn't get off work until 6:00. And the other one actually works as a mover! They was gonna do it on Saturday, but I wanted to get it over with today, and not after a whole day at my store."

That was good enough for me. It seemed logical. Which a made-up story from Hick would not. When he got home (and during a commercial), I heard more.

"Them young boys moved the couches like they was nothin'!"

"Did you pay them?"

"Yeah. I gave them each $50, because they're young and trying to make money, and they drove all the way over here from Bill-Paying Town on a Friday evening."

"That's fair. I'm glad you paid them." (Not MY money, heh, heh!)

"They was happy to help me out. They're good kids. And respectful. You don't see much of that these days."

"Leave it to your Harem to take up your time on a Friday night, whether they're actually calling you or not."

"Heh, heh! Some of 'em was standin' around watchin'. The boys saw them. Next time them boys come in, I'm gonna say, 'Remember those old ladies watching us move the couches? My wife calls them my Harem.' They'll get a kick out of that."

Yeah. Hick's Harem is still kickin'.

Tuesday in the Grocery Store with Hick

I was without the use of my trusty T-Hoe on Tuesday afternoon. He had to stay overnight at Mick the Mechanic's shop to get his gas tank canister solenoid thingy replaced, and put $988.20 in Mick's pocket. Hick knew I'd been expecting to get T-Hoe back around 2:00. He selflessly volunteered to drive me to town for my lottery tickets. I could have driven A-Cad myself, but I prefer T-Hoe. I'm not one to turn down a chauffeur, even one who sweaves with abandon.

"I want to go to the Gas Station Chicken Store, like I do every day. And also to 10Box for their lottery machines. Do you want to go in the store with me? I can show you how these new machines work, in case I ask you to get me tickets sometime, like in the snow. We can pick up some more soda for you. And some canned mushrooms. We're running low."

"Yeah. I can go in."

"Will you be okay if I'm the one leaning on the cart? I know your knees have been hurting you."

"I'll be fine." By now, we were pulling into the 10Box parking lot. "Where do you want me to park?"

"Uh. The HANDICAPPED space? Because there's one open, right by the door."

We have my second handicap placard hanging from A-Cad's mirror, for when Hick takes me places. Also for when Hick takes A-Cad places, I suspect. I'm sure he could get his own placard, what with his two spinal surgeries and his age. 

Anyhoo... I took a cart from the corral, and we started in. Passing through the double set of glass doors, Hick looked at the two beeper carts parked there.

"Heh, heh! I could get me a riding cart!"

"You could. But the way you drive, I don't want you beside me!"

We picked up two 6-packs of Diet Sprite. Hick has switched to that since his surgery in August, temporarily giving up his three or four Diet Mountain Dews per day and all that caffeine. On the way to the mushroom aisle, Hick found a treat in an end-cap.

"Huh. What are these?" He asked, rooting through some orange packages.

"Looks like fake Oreos, with orange filling in the middle."

"Huh. Them might be good."

"Go ahead and put them in the cart."

After the mushrooms, I walked him past the open meat bins. "See? They have really good pork steaks here. And they make their own bratwursts now too, like Save A Lot."

"They do look good."

"Maybe if the weather stays nice, and you want to grill, I'll come back and get some. Now let's get my oatmeal and your breakfast bars. Oh, and we'll go up front to the pastry tables, so I can get another pack of Hawaiian Rolls for your sliders."

"When the weather cools off a little more, I'm coming back to get a bunch of taffy for my store."

"Of course you are. Even though you pretend it's for your customers... Do you see anything you want here?"

"No. Not really. Oh. Honey Buns. I like Honey Buns. Maybe I'll get one. Are they expensive? Huh. 98 cents."

Hick picked up two Honey Buns. Then looked at what remained in the box. Then put his two back, and picked up the whole box of six.

The older checkout gal gave me that look as I put Hick's sugary treats on the conveyor, and he stood in front of the cart, chatting with some guy who recognized him.

"I KNOW! This is what happens when I bring him to the store." 

Hick turned and put the soda back into the cart. He had set both 6-packs on the conveyor, even though she could have scanned them on the side of the cart with her handheld scanner. He was grabbing things as they came down the conveyor, dumping them in a bag, then putting the bag in the cart. All the while distracted by talking. The last things to get scanned were two (full-size) cans of mushrooms. Hick picked them up and started rooting at the bags in the cart. 

"You can't put them in with your Honey Buns! No, you can't put them in with your cookies! They'll smash anything else in the bag."

Hick laid the two cans of mushrooms on top of the soda 6-packs. They promptly rolled off and clanged into the bottom of the cart.

"Just get them out and put them in their own bag! You can't carry them in the house in just your hands."

For a guy who's really smart about a lot of things, Hick is terrible shopper.

Nothing But the Kitchen Sink

When he was cleaning up the vintage cast iron porcelain sink from Lap House before re-installing it, Hick made a discover on the bottom.

"I found the year it was made. The date, really. And what might be a serial number or a model number."

It's upside down here. I should have flipped the photo, but that messed with my brain. Not the flipping, but the view when it was flipped. The date is 7/29/58. The number above it (or here below) is 6885. 

None of that is here nor there. Hick just thought it was interesting to know how old the sink is. He didn't mention a manufacturer, so I guess he didn't see any markings for that. It's probably not a Kohler, because the innernets tell me that Kohler put a "K" in front of their numbers.

Yes. Hick cleaned the rest of the sink before installing it. I asked!

In case you haven't seen enough of the sink lately, here's what the business side looks like.

This was before Hick ripped it out. It has double drainers on the sides. They don't make 'em like they used to. Well. They probably do. But I suspect they're more fragile.

Good Riddance to a Not-So-Good Renter

If you see Hick out and about, doing the Snoopy Dance, here's the reason. A problem Harem-ite has moved. Completely! She's out! Now Hick and his two-man crew are cleaning up the apartment for the next renter, who has already signed the papers.

"I'm glad she's gone. That apartment is a mess. I don't think she ever took her little dog outside! It pooped all over the place. That's why I'm putting laminate flooring in all the apartments as I fix them up. I'll send you a picture of the mess."

Yeah. I don't really see how cleaning could ever restore that carpet. Rip it out and take it to the dump. That's the plan. The work will be done on the not-for-profit agency's dime, not out of Hick's money. They realize how lucky they are to have a Hick doing the renovations for them.

Hick is a little upset with Dog Lady. She wasn't a big problem, just the dog poop. She had a doctor's note for using the dog as a support animal. And she got into it with another lady who threatened to kill her dog. As well as calling Hick at home for trivial things. What really upset him was when she wanted to "sell back" the FREE furniture he had given her out of storage. AND after moving out: "I can't believe she actually asked for her deposit back!"

The couch is one that was given to her. Another lady wants it. She will trade the couch she has now. The lady moving in doesn't have a couch, and Hick told her she could have the other lady's couch. So it's couches for all! Hick says the one in the picture reclines, so that's why the other lady wants to trade.

Did I ever mention that I don't like Hick having this apartment job? It makes him feel important, and he really does help the elderlies. But it steals time away from the flip houses.

Kitchen Decisions for Lap House

Hick has the rich guy cabinets and the old cast-iron double sink installed at Lap House. Now comes time for decisions about the backsplash and flooring. In fact, it looks like Hick is planning to use flooring for the backsplash. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think he's done it successfully for another flip. Of course he knew that I'd require pictures to give my input.

"What do you think of this board for back of cabinets? The white board will divide the two."

"Might be too much wood. And grain. A solid would be better."

"Another option."

"No. I still don't like it. Needs no pattern. Just a solid."

"Okay."

Don't get me wrong. It doesn't have to be absolutely solid. Just mainly solid. A small pattern like dots or stars or thin stripes could work, depending on how it looks next to the butcher block. But that's too much to overwhelm Hick with choices!

Anyhoo... here's the sink and counter and cabinets, all installed. As Hick said:

"I think it looks pretty good."

"It looks great. That's why we should make good backsplash and flooring choices."

What do you think for those choices?

The Pony Bugs Out (Part 2)

You have been warned! Read no further if you are squeamish about seeing a half-eaten bug! There will be an extreme closeup. TWO!

I continued to chat with The Pony about the unfortunate insect consumption. Little did I know how truly HORRENDOUS this experience had been. It hit me when I saw the pictures. I'll share them here, with the rest of the conversation before the gravity of The Pony's personal Not-Heaven hit me upon first sight. We'll start with the box. After that, you can choose to stop or continue. In case the sight of a half-eaten bug might trigger an unpleasant reaction...

It's a fiber brownie. FIBER ONE. That's a pretty big brand. It's not like The Pony was just having a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie for breakfast. Though in retrospect that might have been healthier. Just sugar, without the bug.

"You should send your pictures to the company and complain. You'd at least get some free coupons for more. That's what I got when I found a bone in my canned white meat chicken from Swanson. Then again, you might never want to eat them again. I bet you already threw away the rest of them!"

"No. There are still a couple in the box. I took pictures of the barcode and some other code numbers. I might send them."

"So do you think it was cooked in the brownie? Or was the package torn or open?"

"Nothing was open. It looked like the regular package. And I've never seen a bug like this in my house."

"Well, you should send in a complaint, along with when and where you bought them."

"Yeah. I might. It was from Country Mart. I think it was a couple of weeks ago."

"Okay. Sorry that happened to you. I'll let you go. And I'll look at the pictures."

NOT-HEAVEN, NOOOO!!!!

The first view was bad, but it got worse. Here's the bug that was pulled from between The Pony's teeth, beside the foil packet and the crumbled remainder that showed no bug parts. The Pony had been hoping for at least a leg or wing, to prove that no parts had been swallowed.

"EEEEE!!! It's worse than I thought!!!

"Imagine how I feel!"

"Stay strong, my little Pony."

"The probiscis! The thorax! The single remaining leg!"

"It's too larva-like!"

"The throwing up was a forgone conclusion! And I shall need medicaments to deal with it! It has. Little like wing stubs. I think it was at least a nymph."

"STAHHHHHP! You need compensation. I'd refer you to Jackie Chiles, but that's a Seinfeld reference, and you don't watch."

"Now, I think even you could find this one funny. To quote one of my friends: 'You got RFK Jr'd.' Going by the best-buy date and Google, this box was probably made in April this year."

"I assume that's a reference to cutbacks at the FDA or something. He should have been standing on that production line himself! But was probably too busy chugging methylene blue."

"Hehe!"

[No political comments, please. This was just banter between The Pony and me.]

Anyhoo... The Pony is still kickin'. No doubt due to the extra protein, and being well-rested after going back to bed after that experience. It didn't help that the chicken patty The Pony cooked for supper the night before had a bone in it. 

"It looked like a little bird bone."

"Maybe it was plastic, like off the zip-lock closure at the top of the bag."

"No. It was harder than plastic. I didn't think much about it at the time. But now this."

I hope The Pony sends in the pictures and complains to Fiber One. Too bad the remainder of the brownie was crumbled up and thrown away. That could have been sent in, along with the half-bug, for analysis. As I told The Pony: "To prove you're not some weirdo putting a chopped-off thumb in Wendy's chili, or a mouse in a bucket of KFC."

The Pony Bugs Out (Part 1)

I was washing dishes on Friday morning at 7:23 when I heard a text come in. My phone was in the living room next to my OPC (Old People Chair). I figured it could wait until my dishes were done. Maybe it was just Hick reporting that he'd seen something along the road on the way to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). 

Nope. It was a text from The Pony. I felt bad that I'd waited a few minutes. The Pony obviously needed my support...

"Horrible nightmarish no good very bad morning! Was eating my brownie for breakfast before meds. Felt something in my teeth. Pulled out half a bug. Currently partway through throwing up because the other half was. Not. In the remaining bit of brownie I crumbled up, or in the water glass or anything."

I responded immediately with "Yikes!" And then called.

The Pony was mid-tooth-brushing. Took a moment to rinse and spit. Then we had a short chat. Of course I tried to make light of the situation.

"You know, there are cultures that eat bugs on a regular basis. Just consider yourself as having a bit of extra protein for the day."

"Heh, heh. Yeah. But it was just that CRUNCH. And seeing it when I pulled it out of my teeth. It was stuck between the right top incisor, and the one next to it. I'll send you a picture of the piece I pulled out."

"Okay. But I won't look until I hang up. You know how I am with doing more than one thing on my phone."

I heard the picture come in, but kept chatting. Tomorrow, I will share the picture(s), and the rest of the conversation.

I'm not sure you're ready for this. I certainly wasn't...

Friday Night Harem Fatigue

Friday evening. 4:52 p.m. Hick had just arrived home, and plopped down in his recliner. His phone rang. Of course I knew the general identity of the caller before he even answered. My precognition was confirmed when Hick muttered, before answering:

"Oh, no. Now what do YOU want???"

I got the gist of it as he took the call.

"Hello. HELLO. Yes. This is me. Okay. That's fine. We'll get to it. There's a lot we have to do. Okay. That's fine. Bye."

"Your Harem, right? Which one was this?"

"The crazy lady with the dog. She said she'd be moved out by the 23rd. She called to say she's moving a bunch of stuff this weekend, and might be able to get it all out by then. Who knows when she'll really be out. We'll have to pull up the carpet and clean up her apartment before putting down laminate flooring."

"And she had to tell you NOW. Because she couldn't have mentioned it to you at lunch yesterday. Or waited until Monday if she's completely out. It's definitely something that needs to be brought to your attention on a Friday evening. Just in case she gets moved out by Sunday, and you want to rush over there to start working."

"Yeah. I don't know what them women think."

Well. That will be one less member of Hick's Harem to call on a Friday night. Until he rents the apartment again, anyway...

Hick Forgot His Banana

Friday, another day toiling at the SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) for Hick. Actually, Friday is only a half-day there for him. He packs a lunch, leaves at 6:00 a.m., and stays until about 1:00, when he leaves to gallivant about the county, ending up at his Friday afternoon bull-shooting session with his cronies.

When I passed through the kitchen around 7:00, I noticed that Hick had forgotten his banana. We each have a banana every morning. I buy a bunch of six or eight at a time. So there should have been an odd number of bananas in the bowl. Nope. There were six.

Don't you worry about Hick. He won't starve. He has a protein breakfast bar every morning. His lunch was ready to be placed in a recycled Country Mart bag. It consisted of an apple, a snack baggie of Animal Cookies, frozen mini sausage biscuits to be heated later, and a square piece of his Mississippi Mud auction cake. [He managed to eat half of it before I had to slice the remainder into nine pieces and freeze them.] He would have taken an individual bag of chips, but said he had some left at the SUS2.5. I also suspect he might have picked up a Casey's donut on the way. So he wasn't going to starve for lack of a banana.

Anyhoo... as he was leaving, Hick muttered something about hating to miss lunch at the Senior Center, because they were having catfish.

He had finally brought home an October menu a couple days ago. Why do I feel like Hick will be dining on:

Catfish

Baked Beans

Corn Nuggets

Dessert Bar

Maybe he can find a banana on that dessert bar. Wait! Why are you laughing?

Hick's Freebie Magnet is Fully Charged

Hick came through the kitchen door Tuesday afternoon with a cardboard box. He deposited it on the cutting block, taking up half.

"Hey! You're not going to leave that there! Whatever it is, YOU need to put it away."

"It's food, Val. From the FREE food giveaway out at the junior college they have every month. Them gals at the Senior Center [Translation: Hick's Harem] was talkin' about it. They always go. There's too much stuff for them. They cain't use it all. One of 'em gave me this box."

Inside was a 5-lb bag of yellow onions. A 3-lb bag of Gala apples. A bag of Goldfish snacks that was BEST BY August 16. 

"She had two bags of these onions, and two bags of apples. She kept the bananas and some other stuff. This is what she didn't want, but didn't want to waste it."

That's fine. I use a lot of onions. We can eat the apples, or I can cook them with a bit of cinnamon. The Goldfish crackers aren't my favorite, but I'll eat them rather than throw them out. Oh, and I found out Thursday morning that there was more! Hick has been keeping it from me!

"There was an ice cream size container of pepperonis. They're at the house. I had them with me and wasn't comin' right home, so I put them there and forgot."

Yeah. A likely story. I'm sure Hick will be snacking on pepperonis. It's no loss to me. I hate pepperoni. But if they were here, I could add them to his pizza. So typical of Hick to only share with me what he deems sharable, heh, heh.

Back in Hick's Lap (House)

If it takes constant attention, and sending me very similar pictures to make Hick get to work on Lap House, I'm fine with it. I just past those approval-seeking pictures along to you. My people.

Hick had a story on Tuesday.

"Me and Old Buddy put in the upper cabinet this morning. I retched up [Hick's pronunciation of "reached"] and wondered why I couldn't get ahold of the door. We had put it in upside down! The handle was up by the ceiling!"

"Oh, my people will love that!"

"The worst thing is, we had put it up twice! Both the wrong way. After the first time, we seen a problem with the ceiling that we had to fix. Then we put the cabinet back, still upside down, and neither one of us noticed it!"

"So... did you fix it?"

"Not yet. We'll do it tomorrow. All we have to do is undo four screws and flip it over. Then screw them back in."

Hick got the cabinet fixed on Wednesday morning. By himself. Old Buddy didn't show up.

This would not have been a problem for Hick to do alone. You can see that he has that "cheat board" nailed to the wall, to hold the weight of the cabinet while it's being screwed. Also, Hick applied a coating of stain to the butcher block counter. That needed to be done within 48 hours of unwrapping the counter. The picture looks a little different, because this was taken when it was still dark outside, not with the morning light streaming in.

Still a lot of work to be done. You won't miss anything. 

A Side Note

FINALLY, Hick has the siding back on the outside of Lap House. It's the corner where he put in the new electric box. This was supposed to be a job for Old Buddy last week, but I don't think it happened then. Hick sent me a text on Monday that he was going out to put on the siding. Then a picture:

It looks like that corner is back to normal! Here's a closer look.

I can't even tell that the siding had been removed. Maybe the shade camouflages it, but I think Hick did a nice job fitting it back to the original condition.

Also, Hick has put some chairs on the front porch, making it look more home-y. I'm sure that was not the plan. It was likely to get the chairs out of the back yard for mowing purposes, and as a place to take a break from (sporadic) working.

Only the rest of the kitchen, two bedrooms, a living room, a laundry room, and a bathroom to go!

Butchering the Lap House Kitchen

Hick was back to work Monday at Lap House. I'm not so sure he had helpers this day, because he sent me a text every half hour or so. Meaning he wasn't putting all his energy into bossing people around!

Here's a preliminary look at the kitchen counter:

As Hick noted, this countertop is just set in place. Nothing fastened yet, nothing trimmed. I wasn't sure I would like the butcher block, but now I love it! I think it goes well with the new (lower) cabinets, and the vintage sink.

Hick was thinking about a white laminate floor, but I'm leaning towards a tan or beige. Not a wood grain, but something that looks like tile. That way it won't clash with the butcher block. I'll suggest it to Hick, but you know how he is about bargains. I suspect he will favor the budget, rather than my preferences.

Hick Is Working at Lap Speed

Thursday was another day of work on Lap House. The new lower cabinets were actually installed. Hick sent The Pony a picture, but not me! Of course The Pony shared. At first I thought it was the same picture I had gotten the day before (which The Pony didn't), where the new cabinets were just set in place. Nope! They're actually installed now.

That's a vintage cast iron porcelain enamel double sink with drainboards. Hick is leaving it. They are going for around $1000 from what I see on the innernets. The upper cabinet with the dishes is old. That is going away, says Hick. There won't be an upper cabinet in that area, but on the side. Also, the flooring is just linoleum, and will be torn out, to be replaced with laminate. Hick is thinking white, but I don't know if people want a WHITE kitchen floor. That's a lot of white. Hick said he did it in Bargain House, but I think that was more gray.

The view out the kitchen window is the unoccupied church next door, and its little toddler playground. The church building is for sale. I like the rock architecture. Hick took a tour of it with Realtor Guy, just for kicks (unfair to Realtor Guy, who told Hick he didn't mind, because he's more likely to make sales if he shows properties). Anyhoo... Hick said he can't imagine anybody buying the church to convert into a duplex, because it would take too much work.

I hope for more work on Lap House this week. If Hick can get it done soon, and on the market, I would complain less about keeping Cheap House for a total renovation.

The Return of the Laundry Bandit

I can't believe Hick was holding out on this information! Doesn't he know I have stories to tell? It was almost an accidental reveal. We were talking about the cold Hick has come down with.

"I don't know where you got it, but I sure don't want to catch it. From the timing, I'd say you caught it on Sunday or Monday."

"I don't want you to get it, either. I might have got it down at the lockers."

"Or kissing one of your Harem!"

"I ain't kissin' none of my Harem. Oh, and our laundry guy is back."

"I told you! Wait! I thought you said it was a woman. Some lady's granddaughter."

"I seen a man go in there carrying laundry. He has to know! I've got great big signs right over the washer that it's for tenants only. Next time, I'm gonna do what you said. And keep the clothes. I think it's the same people, and the husband is doing it now."

"If nobody asks about the clothes after a couple weeks, you could give them to the grandma and tell her next time you'll keep them. You think you know who it is, right?"

"Yeah. And they've been bringing a dog in there, too. The others told me about it. I went to talk to her, and told her she cain't be havin' a dog unless she has a doctor's note that she needs it for therapy. She said, 'I don't have a dog here. You can come and look in my apartment. It was just for a visit.'"

"Is it a little dog?"

"No! It's a great big dog!" Hick held his hand at the height of the couch arm.

"Well. You need to make that free laundry stop. They don't have any excuse, now that they're doing it with the signs up. Probably the grandma telling them to stop won't do it, either. So she shouldn't be blamed. They are adults. They can read the signs."

Hick was probably hanging onto this tale, waiting for a time when he needed to distract me from a line of interrogation he wanted to avoid...

Hick Grabs Another Man's Junk

Hick took the torn-out cabinets from Lap House to the landfill/recycling center. You have to pay by weight for what you are dumping. Hick says he backs SilverRedO into a big building, and has to unload it himself, among piles of stuff other dumpers have left.

"We were gettin' the cabinets unloaded, and saw a chainsaw just sitting there on a pile of stuff. And two grease guns. The old guy next to me said, 'Looks like somebody dumped a chainsaw.' I said, 'Yep.' And went and got it--"

"Wait! What if that other man wanted it? He pointed it out!"

"That's too bad. I got to it first. I seen it, too. He just happened to say that before I grabbed it. I got them two grease guns, too. I brought the chainsaw home, and it works! Nothing wrong with it. It's a 16- or 18-inch chainsaw. Worth $82, according to the internet. And them grease guns? One of them is air operated. One of them could be anywhere from $30 to $125. It was a pretty good haul, for going to dump the cabinets."

That's our Hick. His FREEbie Magnet is working overtime.

It's Finally LAPpening

Are you sitting down? Prepare yourself. Hick has worked on Lap House two days this week! It might be three, if his plans work out today (Thursday).

Monday, Hick was busy at the senior apartments. But Tuesday, he and HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) tore out the old cabinets in Lap House, and took them to the landfill/recycling center. Wednesday, they set the new cabinets in place in the Lap House kitchen. Today, HOS was assigned to tearing out a bad section of the kitchen floor that was discovered when the old cabinets came out. And Old Buddy's task was to replace the siding on the outside of Lap House, around the new electric box. I assume Hick's job was to supervise.

I think they look wonderful! It's only the bottom section for now. The sink is staying. It's some old-fashioned metal sink, maybe tin, coated with porcelain. That's what Hick says, anyway. The building inspector commented how he liked it, when he was there to approve the wall studs the $1000 job guy put in. He said you don't see those kind of sinks anymore.

Hick says he's planning to use butcher block for the counter. It's the right thickness to match up to the sink level. I'm not sure how it will look with that floor. Or if Hick is even keeping the floor. I don't know what it's made of, or the condition, but I kind of like that pattern.

Anyhoo... I am relieved to see some progress on Lap House, even if it's only one picture. AND Hick had another story from the landfill. Coming soon.

The Auction Return

If these are the best things Hick could find to buy at the auction, I can understand why he hasn't gone for so long! Sure, his prize find was that gigantic Mississippi Mud Cake for $25. That's not something you find every day, and not something most people would buy.

The first picture he sent from the auction was this:

"Bought railroad light and a couple other things."

"Reminds me of a kerosene heater."

Hick did not reply. But did confirm later that this railroad light runs on kerosene. He did not mention who that hand belongs to, steadying the light on his leg. Nor did he elaborate on the "other things" that I think are sitting between his feet. It looks like a professional sports themed wastebasket, for the Arizona Cardinals. I can't tell what's inside.

The other item Hick sent a picture of was this, with no comment:

It is a cross-section of a log, with a message burned into the wood. No idea of Hick's plans for this, but I suspect it might be on our front porch. Or maybe it will demand a place of honor INSIDE our hillbilly mansion. Hick was quite tickled with this acquisition. He paid $2 for it, which is surely a bargain for such a slice of home decor. He paid $22 for the railroad light.

I imagine Hick will go back to the auction, if for no other reason than to look for a tasty dessert.

Stop the HICKsanity!

Hick went to the auction Monday night. It's been many months since he's been there. Nothing special was advertised for it. He just wanted to go. He sent me a couple of pictures of items he bought. You'll see them tomorrow. Today, you can share my shock at Hick's other purchase.

Hick got home around 8:30. He walked through the door holding something across his forearms. At first, I thought he must have gotten a gift from his Harem earlier in the day, while collecting rents. But no. It was something from the auction.

"What's that? Did your Harem give you treats?"

"No. It's a cake. I bought it at the auction. It was a fundraiser, so I gave them $25 for it. The guy who bought the thing ahead of me gave $100!"

A Mississippi Mud cake. My mom used to make them. Hers looked much better than this one, which appeared a bit anemic to me. Mom's was darker, with glossy icing, and a thick layer of marshmallow just under it, before the cake.

This cake had a really thick layer of icing, which looks as if it came right out of the plastic can. Not that there's anything wrong with that... Also, the marshmallow might have been marshmallow creme that melted out during cooking, because it's across the bottom of the pan. I could see a tiny sliver of white between the icing and cake, but it doesn't show in this picture.

The cake was H U G E !!! It's in an 11 x 15 inch glass baking dish! The innernets say such a dish serves 8-12 people. Hick is only ONE person!

This auction cake takes up almost the entire bottom shelf of FRIG II. You can see Little Debbie peeking up from the drawer below, on a box of Hick's snack cakes. Behind her is a glimpse of Hick's box of Mounjaro. 

I'll leave it at that.