A Pair of Big Boys

Hick did indeed go to a casino in Iowa. Because our mantra around here, courtesy of Genius, is "Pics or it didn't happen," Hick sent me proof.

He said he won $45, so I guess he played some of it back, or he was already down before the leprechaun showered him with coins.

Hick also sent a pic from the Picker's Store.

Again, I have partially disguised Hick to protect the innocent. And I'm NOT talking about Hick. Along with this photo, he included a message:

"Good picture of me and big boy got lots of pictures when o get home"

Because, you know, pictures have to be driven back home on Hick's phone, across state lines, and then set to send to my phone, in the House With No Bars. Maybe by Christmas, I will have received these special photos of Hick's summer vacation. I still haven't gotten the two pictures he sent me on Monday of HOS's new baby boy.

I think it's pretty safe to say that Hick was the only guy from Missouri who showed up at the Picker's Store in Iowa wearing a Milwaukee shirt with his Oklahoma hat.

On the Road With Hick

Hick has been sending back reports from his world midwest one-state-up trip.

That's a Coca Cola truck from the I-80 Truck Museum. Hick thinks it's from the late 1930s. Because I guess a Truck Museum wouldn't bother to put any dates or information on the trucks they display... Hick went there Tuesday.

He also went to the Picker store, but I guess he arrived at closing time, because he said he only spent 15 minutes, and he's going back on Thursday. Can't be bothered to Google the hours it's open, I guess. He got one picture while he was there.

Pardon me for protecting Hick's identity. Not that it helps. He looks shockingly similar to the Big Boy behind him. Good thing I washed that stinky hat!

He spent Wednesday visiting with his friend, going to lunch at a little restaurant next to the dairy farm they visited, and who knows where else. At this writing, they had plans to head for a casino after supper. Hick says there are three in the vicinity, and they might hit more than one. Of course he didn't mention this when deciding on his trip. Or invite me.

A casino is like a carrot on a stick for Val! But the real prize is being Hick-free for a few days.

If You Junk It, He Will Come

You can take Hick away from his junk, but you can't keep the junk away from Hick.

Let the record show that Hick is in Iowa, visiting an old friend. He had planned a little trip to see the Henry Ford Museum, in Michigan, but his travel companion canceled at 8:00 p.m. the night before their departure. Good thing Hick had alternate plans, remembering how often this travel companion has flaked out on previous ventures.

Anyhoo...Hick sent me a picture last night.

No, it does not mean that Hick ran out of gas.

"Got to Pal's house this was setting in his neighbors trash"

"I don't know if that should be in the back of my Acadia in the hot weather."

"It's empty no gas smell at all Pal said it had been setting in her back yard"

So...Hick drives all the way to Iowa, and the first thing he does is pick up an old gas can from a lady's yard. HOPEFULLY from her trash. But you never know.

Also, it appears that Hick has cleaned out the back of A-Cad, in order to make room for a big haul. I'm not sure of his intentions, but he DID mention that he's going to drive a couple hours to visit the shop of the Pickers off that TV show he likes. I forget where he's at right now, exactly, but he said it was near Ottumwa, the fictional home of Radar O'Reilly on MASH.

It's not a real trip with Hick in A-Cad without some form of gas inside.

Val Has a Case of READ Rage

Let the record show that Thevictorian is not a grammarian. I don't care if people use questionable punctuation, misspell, or creatively capitalize. I'm not a deputy in the Grammar Police. So you'll not see me pointing out people's accidental or well-intended mistakes with the English language. As long as I get their drift, it's of no consequence to me.

I do, however, have a problem with people not caring enough to do a simple Google search for common sayings. It would take 30 seconds. Don't be a hard-head like Genius, and ASSume you are right. Uh huh. I'm talkin' about "coming down the pipe." NO! It's coming down the PIKE, for cryin' out loud. Genius and I go 'round with this at least once a year. And he usually throws in "dead as a doorknob," too. Which we all know should be DOORNAIL! Right? We know that, don't we?

Over the years, I know I've mentioned this peeve. Don't think I'm singling out any of my regulars. I'm reading this stuff across the innernets. I'm sure I shared the "icy on the cake" phrase with you. And "tow the line." What does that even MEAN? How hard is it to TOW a line? What are all these people doing, moving ships along the Erie Canal? It's TOE the line, people! Obey the rules.

Don't even get me started again on WALA instead of VOILA!

Anyhoo...all this pent-up pissiness came to a head today because I had nothing else to write about when I saw another outrageous trigger phrase. Uh huh. Val got a case of READ RAGE. I can't even remember what I was reading, or the exact quote. I should have saved it. But here's the idea. It was a comment about certain people not being responsible for the failure or success of a venture, because they were not the brains behind it, but only carrying out somebody else's bidding.

"They're just Aaron boys."

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN? Even my sworn enemy, Autocorrect, would not substitute Aaron for errand!

Seriously, people. Get a clue.

Val Thevictorian, Doing Everyone Else's Job, Resentfully

There's the best of times. There's the worst of times. And there's the half-a$$ed times. Which is the era we're living in. Nobody can do a job well, because nobody does a job to completion.

A couple weeks ago, Hick took T-Hoe for an inspection, so he could renew the license. He also got an oil change, because the oil life gauge said T-Hoe was down to about 30% oil life. Can't have T-Hoe runnin' sluggish.

Once I had T-Hoe back in my possession, I tapped through the gauges to look at the oil reading, and it was still the same. Well. Not the same. It was into the 20%s. Since I totally trusted Hick when he specifically told me that he had the oil changed saw on the receipt of the inspection that Walmart automotive department had also done an oil change...I could only surmise that they had NOT reset the oil life.

Seriously. How hard is THAT? They work with cars every day. It's their job. I'm pretty sure they have to look up stuff about what kind of oil, and how much to put in. So you'd think they'd have access to instructions for resetting the oil life. It's not like that information is a state secret. Or even the recipe for Coca Cola or Kentucky Fried Chicken. The details are out there. I found them myself.

Well. I found them myself, after three tries. I'd forgotten, you see, how I reset the oil life LAST TIME it was changed, and not reset. I was on my Shiba upstairs, so I couldn't check my files to see if I'd saved those instructions on New Delly.

Once I Googled, things started looking familiar for my 2008 T-Hoe. I seemed to recall trying those instructions about pumping the gas pedal. Trouble was...one tip said to turn on the key but not start it, and depress the gas pedal three times within five seconds. But the tip just below it said to turn on the key but not start it, and depress the gas pedal five times within three seconds. Huh.

I tried the three-in-five routine down at the mailboxes. Didn't reset. So I figured I'd experiment. I tapped through the button with the symbol that looks like a gas pump to me. Went through various settings like tire pressures until I got to OIL LIFE. Then I held in the button with the symbol that's a check mark. For a long time. Maybe five seconds.

AND THE OIL LIFE RESET!

If I can do it...why can't the people Hick paid to change the oil?

Does This Make Me the Negative-Five-Dollar Daughter?

Thursday mid-morning, Hick sent me a text asking if I wanted to go to our old favorite casino. You might think I jumped on that like Shirley Feeney on a cracker (at 4:13 of the clip) after a day of being a starving guinea pig to earn money for a party. But no. I told him I'd need to think about it, since my casino bankroll was depleted after out last trip.

Lucky for me I'm pretty lucky, and I'd won $75 on a five-dollar scratcher this week. Plus I still had most of my Oklahoma casino bankroll intact. So I said I'd go, and we ended up having a delicious burger for lupper (lunch/supper), with Hick losing some money, and me winning $220. That's PROFIT, people! I left with everything I took in, plus $220. Thanks, Quick Hits Riches Rising Bonus!

I should have known I was in for some odd shenanigans from The Universe, because it's been a long time since I was a winner at that casino.

We left at 4:00, with Hick trying out the new text feature for the valet to retrieve the car. He said it was just too darn hot at 100 degrees for us to walk in from the far lot. The valet crew was speedy enough on Hick's second try, because he assumed he'd requested the car, when in fact it told him that texting for the car might cost him money on his phone bill. Anyhoo...turns out once you text, you have to SHOW THAT TEXT to the valet window, so it seems to me like it doesn't save you all that much time.

Anyhoo...Hick took the old highway home, from the casino to his work town, because he planned on stopping at Goodwill. We were barely down the road a piece when Hick brought up his latest object of desire, a new safe for the homestead. I'm of the opinion that since we already have TWO safes, each bigger than a dishwasher, one weighing 700-800 pounds, and the other a couple thousand pounds...that Hick should just give me the combinations, and call it good. Hick declared that if we get a new one, he will sell the other two.

"We need to find the combination to your mom's safe."

The verbal period was still hanging in the air after Hick's statement, when on the radio came that song I associate with Mom: "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye" by Patty Loveless. We just looked at each other. Which was kind of scary, with Hick piloting A-Cad down undivided 4-lane blacktop. It was like that time we talked about how sorry we were for making fun of Mom's 4WD that she didn't use, after finding out it hadn't worked all along, and that song came on. Scoff all you will, but what are the odds of that timing?

Later that night, I typed up Friday's blog post about speed limit (sighs) signs, which had a mind of its own with a time stamp of 11:11, and took several tries to publish.

Friday I found a penny.

Friday night, I fell asleep in my OPC (Old People Chair) and had a dream about Mom and Dad, visiting me in a college town, me thanking them for coming and having a great time going out to dinner. They were walking away from me, not answering. Mom was going down a narrow sidewalk, only wide enough for one, and I was trying to catch up to her. Funny how in this dream, they were dressed like the early 1950s, Mom in wide-legged pants and a jacket, with a headscarf, looking like something Lucille Ball might have worn. On I Love Lucy. Not as that unfortunate brass Bad Lucy statue. Dad was slim as his high school basketball-playing days, wearing slacks and a jacket from that time period, with a short haircut. Though he was preoccupied, talking on a cell phone at his left ear, walking in the grass on the left side of Mom.

I was enjoying that dream quite a lot, when I was jolted awake by a heavy THUMP upstairs, in the area of the hallway between the boys' rooms. Right by my mom's piano, and the wall of pictures that includes one of her and Dad. That set my heart to pounding. It was around 3:00 a.m., but I was still groggy, and wanted to drift back into that dream. Which never happens, you know, but I almost made it when there was another THUMP upstairs, this time closer to Genius's bedroom door.

Usually these noises are a bit disconcerting, but I don't really feel afraid, or gather comfort from them. They're just weird. But this time, they creeped me out. It's like there was a Mom-blocker keeping me from my dream. I knew it was time to go up to bed, but I fiddled around flipping channels for about 15 minutes, because I didn't want to go up where the noises had come from.

Once in bed, I had just fallen asleep when Hick grabbed the side of my head like a basketball. Palmed it! Then he pulled his hand back. It was annoying, but there's no use yelling at Hick in his sleep. I had to, though, after the third time he karate-chopped me in my lower back. The last one almost pushed me out of bed. I reached back to grab his arm, but it wasn't there. He's a tricky one, that Hick. He didn't wake up when I complained, and on Saturday, he denied any contact, or knowledge of thrashing. I'm sure it was him, though.

Pretty sure.

Saturday, I found another penny at my first stop, Orb K. I made my rounds, cashing in scratchers and buying new ones (cumulative loss of $5). I should have known I wouldn't win anything. There were NO good songs on the 11 radio stations I flip through. The closest to a good one was "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. It's one that I like, and I hear it every few days. It was the first thing on the radio when I left home. I usually jot down the good songs on a note card, and cue them up on Spotify to listen to while I'm scratching tickets and perusing the innernets, since I don't usually get the whole song while I'm out in town. Seems like the more good songs I have on my list, the better my scratchers fortune.

Here I was, sitting at the stop light, on the way home, and I'd only heard one good song. I was daydreaming about my night dream, flipped across the stations, and settled on Prime Country...and "How Do I Help You Say Goodbye" came on.

That was two days of the darnedest coincidences...

The Weekly Centses Report

Ha ha! Fortune has found Val once again. In a big way.

TUESDAY, which was Fourth of July Eve...I was caught unawares by a penny in Orb K.

I only spotted it on the way out, so I'm thinking it was dropped by the guy who paid ahead of me, and received a handful of change. As you can see...Orb K still seems to have a problem keeping their merchandise stocked. Looks like more people enjoy the mini donuts than the energy drinks that are never in short supply. Don't worry that I missed a dime off to the left. That was a blob of something gumlike.

Once again, I was mooned by a penny showing me its tail. This one was a 2013.

I was thrilled to find a penny so early in the week. Pressure OFF! Resting on my early laurel, I was shocked to discover a NICKEL on the parking lot of The Gas Station Chicken Store later that same day, in my Tuesday travels.

As with the penny, this nickel was not there when I went inside. I would have seen it as I climbed out of T-Hoe, because I spotted this nickel when I had already climbed back IN T-Hoe, and was reaching to close the door. You can bet I hopped down and took my picture.

It was another unfortunate Thomas Jefferson likeness. A 2010, which nearly burned my fingers due to the blazing sun and 107-degree heat index. I suppose a car could have parked by me while I was inside. When I went in, there was just a truck at the diesel pump way over there. I doubt they drove by, tossing coins out the window like candy in a parade.
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WEDNESDAY, the actual Fourth of July, was also a good day for penny-picking. I was gathering my scratchers off the counter of Casey's when I saw this gem in the corner on the way out.

Looks like some former employees of Orb K must have been hired by Casey's, and have been busy not-stocking the shelves! There's no excuse for this, since Tuesday is truck day, when supplies arrive.

The most HORRIBLE thing about finding this face-up 1991 penny is that I couldn't reach it back in the corner, so I used my scratchers to drag it forward, and I DIDN'T NOTICE THE HAIR WAD until after I got home and put the picture on my New Delly! Even more horrible... sometimes, if I need both hands for fishing out my keys, or holding my phone...I put my scratchers between my teeth momentarily. I'm sure I didn't do it on that day. Pretty sure...
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THIS JUST IN--
In keeping with the recent tradition, a penny has found me scant hours before this pre-typed post was scheduled to publish. SATURDAY, the Seventh of July, I saw this in Orb K:

No, not the well-stocked energy supplements. Don't you think somebody who partook of them could write about more exciting stuff than finding pennies?

I'm talkin' about that face-down 2000 penny trying to blend in with the floor. I exposed the poor dude behind me (probably wanting to buy those energy supplements) to my ample rumpus as I got pics to show it happened, and harvested my last-minute crop. Now I'll have to update my running tally...
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For 2018: Pennies  # 53, 54, 55.
For 2018: Dimes  still at # 10.
For 2018: Nickels  # 4.

Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 131, 132, 133.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Dime # 16.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Nickel # 4.
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