Owed Things Come To Those Who Wait

Remember when Hick bought a saver card from the kids who use HOS's Bus Stop shed? Uh huh. It was last week. January 28th. A Monday. Every day, Hick expected to get his saver card. He watched for it like Ralphie in A Christmas Story watching for his Little Orphan Annie Secret Society Decoder Ring.

Tuesday, Hick made sure he was home from truck-buying to sit and wait for those kids to walk home from the bus stop. He knew they would be bringing his saver card. After all, the kid had said he'd bring it tomorrow. No. Hick saw the kids go by, with the dogs barking and running along with them. But nobody came up the driveway.

Wednesday, came. Hick watched. No saver card.

Thursday and Friday were inclement weather days, with snow and ice, and school was canceled. So those kids had no reason to walk by our house.

Saturday and Sunday, Hick went to his Storage Unit Store, figuring his saver card was not going to be delivered on the weekend. But he still had hope! If he didn't get his saver card in a couple weeks, he was going to ask our across-the-road neighbor. The human mom of the Killer Poodle and Crazy Rottweiler. He'd seen her name just above his, when he signed the saver card list after paying his $15.

I'm not sure of the plan. I doubt Hick & Company would go after those kids with pitchforks and flaming torches. But they'd put it on the association Facebook, asking if anybody got their saver card after paying, and try to microcosmically shame the kids into delivering the saver cards as promised. Though I doubt kids are even on Facebook these days!

While Hick still had hope, I think he was pretty much resigned to losing that $15.

Monday at 4:14, Hick sent me a text. "The boys just brought my card."

It looks like a good one. We use all but 4 of those places. Nothing against them, we'll probably go, it's just that we don't frequent them.


 The front has a line of numbers to be punched out when you present the card. I'm betting that some places won't have a puncher handy, or the teenage clerk won't know what to do. Not that I want to cheat to get extra value out of this card, mind you. I don't control the punches.

We have a whole year to get our bargains. If we use it for just a couple of these buy one/get one meals, the $15 will have been repaid.

Hick is very happy with his saver card. The first thing he mentioned was the Dairy Queen Blizzard. Hick likes his ice cream.

Val's Trivial Pursuits

Hick and Val went out on the town Friday night. Please let the record show that the town we're talking about is Backroads. It's not like there's a Studio 54, or an off-off-off-off Broadway play to attend. No, Hick and Val went to the upstairs floor of a 1908 building that was constructed by the lead-mining company that enabled local towns to flourish during the 1920s. Nothing lead-ish was going on Friday night, though. Hick and Val were playing Trivia on a team of ten.

Hick was the one who got the Trivia ball rolling. Heh, heh! Hick on a Trivia team? That's like Val tutoring people in world geography! It was quite serendipitous how the team came together. Every Friday after his shot (no, not for rabies), Hick hangs out with some cronies to shoot the bull. One of them is a former teacher who Hick has been friends with since before he met Val. His wife is also formerly taught Hick. I don't hold her responsible!

Anyhoo...Former Teacher's Wife had been lamenting that her Trivia team is always the biggest loser. At the bottom of the points list. She was hoping for some new players to elevate her team's performance. As she told it, they usually just have four people on the team, which can have 8-10 players. It's all for a fundraiser anyway, $10 per person to play. Former Teacher mentioned to Hick how they were playing on Friday night, and said they needed more people. Would he play? So Hick accepted.

When Hick told me about his plans, I said, "Huh. I like to play Trivia. I used to do it all the time." So Hick said they still needed more, and he would tell FTW (Former Teacher's Wife, not what you're thinking it stands for!) so she could add me to her team. As far as Hick knew, that gave us 6 players. My sister the ex-mayor's wife, and the ex-mayor himself, had spoken about playing Trivia on our last casino outing. So I suggested them to round out the team. They were approved by FTW, so we all packed up some snacks and headed for the second floor of the old lead mines building on Friday night. Of course I took Chex Mix.

Sis brought these snacks. Shown here, posed on a paper plate, are some that she packed up in a red Solo cup for me to bring home. At the top are grapes dipped in white chocolate, plain and with nuts. They are best served nearly-frozen. The others are Bugles dipped in white or chocolate chocolate. The pink one has no special flavor from the white kind, just added food coloring to make it pretty.

Our team ended up having 10 players, crammed around a round table, trying to reach assorted cheese and cracker and smoked sausage trays. That's pretty much all I remember! We did okay, and in the 9th round of the 10-round competition, we pulled out of dead last, and finished not only second-to-last, but a mere ONE POINT from being next-to next-to last!

On a side note, I might or might not have mentioned here (it was probably in a letter to Genius and The Pony) that the Ex-Mayor once had a run-in with FTW! Sis was reluctant to play at first. "Well, you know he wrote a scathing letter to her when he was the mayor, and she worked for the newspaper. What if she remembers?" I told her I doubted that would be on FTW's radar. Sis said, "Well, unless he puts a copy of the letter in a clear sleeve and wears it around his neck!" Anyhoo... Ex-Mayor himself had no qualms about playing, it was Sis who was worried about their former connection.

Everything was going fine as we got things arranged on our table and elected Sis the official answer-writer. Then we had to introduce ourselves. I didn't see any recognition cross FTW's face at the mention of Ex-Mayor's name. I think she just associated him as being the husband of my sister. THEN, right before the first round started, FTW started a story that began with "Back when I was editor of the paper..."

Sis slammed her knee into mine so hard that I almost tipped into Hick, which could have set off a tumble of players around our table like a grand stunt with dominos! "WHAT?"

"Shh...she's talking about when she used to work at the paper! Do you think she'll notice?"

I looked at Ex-Mayor, who was trying to write something with the bright yellow mechanical pencil he had chosen from the red, green, blue, and yellow that I'd brought along. I have a pack of 100. As I told The Pony, "That's more mechanical pencils than I can use for the rest of my life." Thing was, the end had fallen off Ex-Mayor's pencil. That little black pointy part that he hadn't advanced any lead into yet. Sis and I watched, mesmerized, as he tried to make it work.

"No. I don't think you have to worry about her associating him with a city mayor."

Val and Hick Imbibe a La Croix

Ever since CasinoPalooza 3, Genius has been pushing me to try La Croix. His favorite drink. Well, if you don't count any form of alcohol. During the icy weather, when Hick took me shopping, we saw a 12-pack of La Croix in cans, near Hick's special Strawberry Water. I didn't want to get that much, but Hick said he'd try it. He was dubious about the Cran-Raspberry, but that's the flavor Genius said was best. He also decreed that it should be ICE COLD when we tried it. Hick was the first to take the plunge, and he said it was, "Okay."

I find it to be an acquired taste. One which I have not yet acquired. It's like beer. It doesn't really taste good, but you can tolerate it for the results. I wouldn't rank it up there with The Beast (Milwaukee's Best). More like Busch, but not as bad as Budweiser. I'm sure the Cran-Raspberry flavor is a delicacy for some. Not for this ol' Val, though.

Perhaps my La Croix would have tasted better on a sweltering summer day, after I'd used an old push mower with revolving bladed cylinder to mow the front yard and BARn field. It was not so much a treat in my dark basement lair, with temperatures in the 20s outside, seeping through the concrete walls. It's the taste that keeps on giving, too. When I burp, I can reminisce about my Cran-Raspberry La Croix.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful. It's an experience I will cherish. I would have another La Croix. Perhaps if the power went out and the well wouldn't work and I checked my leathery old lady flesh by lifting a swatch of skin on the back of my hand, and saw that I was severely dehydrated. It would definitely be better than Bear Grylls's method of soaking my t-shirt with urine and wringing that moisture into my upturned mouth.

I could also imagine that my can of La Croix would be most welcome if I was nervously awaiting surgery in the pre-op room, and had been given a tiny plastic cup of liquid sedative to calm my nerves. Because I think the carbonation might speed the absorption of the medicine. At least that's why the nurses said they gave The Pony a sip of Dr. Pepper with his liquid shot before his elbow surgery.

My La Croix was much more flavorful than I anticipated. Robust, almost. The thing is, the Cran-Raspberry reminded me very much of a red creme soda. I don't like red creme soda. So that might be what is keeping me from giving La Croix a raving review. A lemon lime flavor might be more pleasing to my palate.

You're not gonna believe this, but when I watched Celebrity Big Brother a few hours after starting this draft on Wednesday night, I saw several 12 PACKS OF GREEN LA CROIX in their storage room! I couldn't see the flavor, but I definitely saw LA CROIX on the side of the boxes. I'd seen the Houseguests, on the Big Brother After Dark live shows, drinking out of green cans. I figured they were all Sprite lovers, but with the generic soda that Big Brother cheaply furnishes. Looks like production went all-out with the celebrity Houseguests, giving them hoity-toity La Croix.

I checked the 12-pack box of our La Croix on the kitchen table, and it looks like there are only 2 or 4 left. I guess Hick likes it better than he first professed.

Anyhoo... I'll probably try the green kind of La Croix, if I can find it in less than a 12-pack. Not that it's so expensive for us elderly paupers. I just have a hard time wasting things. Which is why I buy the 8-packs of little Diet Coke bottles, which cost twice as much at the 20 oz bottle 6-packs of Hick's Diet Mountain Dew.

I guess money is something it doesn't bother me to waste.

We Understand If You Decline an Invitation to Hick's Super Bowl Party

I might have mentioned that Hick likes a large spread of snacks for his Super Bowl unParty. I've got the supplies, and a mental list of when I need to get each item ready. All Hick has to do is be home, for once, and in the house, by kickoff time. He's spending the morning, probably until 1:00, at his Storage Unit Store. If I heard him correctly when he was droning on about his business yesterday, he took in over $800. Yes. That's no typo. He said he sold four of his guns. He assumes people have gotten their tax refunds, and are tired of being cooped up by the frigid temps and ice. We hit 60 degrees, and folks were out and about.

Anyhoo...Hick's the only guest at his Super Bowl unParty. As you read on, you might understand why.

Saturday, I got off to a late start, and didn't return from town until after 3:00. Hick was right behind me by about 5 minutes. I saw SilverRedO parked in front of Orb K as I drove past on the way home. I figured Hick was eating a hot dog. He loves them, you know! I asked if he'd eaten lunch as he carried in my groceries.

"I had a hot dog."

"Oh. Because it's so late now, I thought I'd just make supper, rather than putting this stuff away, having lunch, and then fixing supper an hour later for you."

"No. That's fine! I didn't have anything, really."

"Well, except that hot dog..."

"I can eat supper now. You're making a pizza, right?"

"Yeah. I got one at Save A Lot. I forgot about tomorrow and your Super Bowl stuff. Maybe you can take your leftover pizza for lunch at your store."

"I might."

Anyhoo...it was around 4:00 when I got the peppers removed from Hick's side of the supreme, and the pepperoni removed from my side. I'd been heating my holey pizza pan in the oven. We like a crisp crust on our pizza, but we don't like it enough for me to set the crust directly on the oven rack. I always preheat the pan. I like hearing that sizzle when I slide the pizza on there.

Save A Lot has really BIG pizzas. They were 2 for $10, I guess for the Super Bowl. Only one supreme was left, and I took it. Not cheese, too boring. Not pepperoni, because that would mean my half was going to be just cheese... which is too boring. I didn't get two pizzas, not because there was only one supreme, but because that's too much pizza for Hick and me! As it is, we each eat half of our half, and save the rest for the second day.

Anyhoo... did I mention how BIG the Save A Lot pizzas are? I used my oven mitts to get that big holey hot pan out of the preheated oven, and put it on the front burner. I'd been removing/adding peppers/pepperoni from that pizza over on the cutting block, with it laying on top of the turned-over box. I used the box to move the pizza to the pan, to slide it onto the hot holey surface. It's so big it overlaps the sides a little. That's okay, because we like our crust crispy, and the edges being exposed like that is fine.

By 4:25, that BIG pizza was ready. I always set the hot holey pan on top of a regular flat pizza pan, on the cutting block, so any juices or crumbs that fall through the holes don't make a mess. I can shake that flat pizza pan over the wastebasket, or wipe it off. I went to talk to Hick for a couple minutes while the cheese cooled enough not to be stringy when I sliced it.

"It looks really good. The crust is hard and crunchy. It'll be better than last time. I left it in a couple extra minutes."

Hick went to take his evening medicine, and I went to slice the pizza. I HATE slicing pizza. I use a big curved-blade, black-handled, butcher knife that Hick's (before-retirement) company makes. I generally swipe it across the foot-long, black-handled, steel that Hick's company also makes. Still, I have trouble getting through that crust. I think it's something about how the holey pizza pan is curved at the edges.

Anyhoo... I started slicing. The crispy edges were easy enough. It was through the center part that I had trouble. Try as I might, I couldn't get that blade all the way through the crust. I got out my Christmas gift Pioneer Woman ceramic knife. The big one. It wasn't curved, but it seemed to cut a little deeper through the crust than the regular butcher knife. Still, I wasn't getting down to the metal of the holey pizza pan. Huh. That was ridiculous. Nobody makes a crust that tough. I was still on the first cut, which divided my pepper-loaded half from Hick's pepperoni-loaded half. I finally grabbed the edge, and started pulling my half away from his as I rocked the knife.

"Uh... We have a problem..."

Hick came to see.

"Looks like when I slid the pizza onto the pan, that cardboard circle was stuck to the bottom. I cooked the cardboard along with the pizza."

"Eh. It'll be fine."

"Yeah. Just not crispy. It looks done. But floppy."

Hick ate his pizza like it was good. I took his other pieces off to save, and put the holey pizza pan back in the oven with my half. Five minutes at 400 degrees, with foil on top to save the toppings from burning...and my pizza was nice and crispy on the bottom. Even better than regular, when I don't leave the cardboard in.

Yes. I understand that you have a previous engagement for the Super Bowl.

Val's Harvest Was Virtually AbCENT This Week

Val's crop that feeds her Future Pennyillionaire fortune was blighted again this week. Only one thin penny to show for her efforts.

It popped up on SUNDAY, Jan 27th, appearing to kick off a week of bounty. "Au contraire," Val grouses from her lair. "This was it!"

The clerk who didn't even wait on Val saw her taking the picture of this 1994 Abe-doing-a-headstand. "Oh, another penny?" She knows what's up! I was going to step to her line, since the ticket display is now up on the window on that side. But another guy beat me to it. THEN I had to wait for him to leave so I could take my picture, and more importantly, snatch that penny right out from under his obliviousness.

I don't know if that's Abe's actual position. Without my glasses, I couldn't tell. And sometimes my phone flips an image 180. Just ask The Pony's monthly mobile deposit checks.
__________________________________________________________________

2019 Running Total
Penny   # 11.
Dime   still at 1.
Nickel  still at 2
Quarter  still at 1

2018 TOTALS
Penny  131
Dime  17
Nickel  6
Quarter  1

2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny  78
Dime   6
Nickel  0
Quarter  0
___________________________________________________________________

I'm Pretty Sure They Do This On Purpose

After leaving Hick at the car dealer to drive his new used truck home, I stopped by Country Mart to pick up supplies for Hick's SuperBowlPalooza. Oh, he doesn't invite anyone over. It's just him. When the boys lived at home, he tried to make them watch. The Pony would grudgingly come out of his room, sit on the couch with his GameBoy for about a quarter, then somehow disappear without Hick noticing. Genius would usually hang on until halftime. That might have been because he remembered the Janet Jackson halftime show from the year he was nine, but I think more likely it was due to the snacks.

In fact, Genius himself suffered a Super Bowl injury during his high school years, and still carries the scar to this day. He had an unfortunate potato skins incident, wherein he sizzled his forearm on the bright orange heating element at the top of the oven. Right after I said, "Be careful reaching in there!"

Anyhoo... Hick's preferred menu includes boneless BBQ chicken wings, chili-cheese dip with Scoops, french onion dip with Ruffles, potato skins with cheese and bacon, and taquitos with salsa. Oops! That reminds me! He usually likes Hot Wing Dip. I might need to add a dish.

Anyhoo... I was picking up some of the stuff I don't already have at home, plus bread and Hick's individual ice cream cups. While waiting in line, I saw a bargain display. Country Mart does this a lot. This time it was a cart full of boxes of Premium Saltines. Well! I was raised on Premium Saltines! They're the best cracker ever!

I remembered that we were having chili for supper (or so I planned). The last time I recalled buying crackers was during the first cold snap. Heh, heh. I think that's when temps dropped into the fifties! Way before Christmas. I'd made some chili then. Those crackers were probably expired by now. Or stale. So what better time to pick up some Premium Saltines for $.99 out of the bargain cart?

While I was waiting for the man ahead of me to finish paying, I wondered how the register was going to know that these saltines were from the bargain cart. It said on the sign hanging on the cart, "THESE BOXES ONLY." I didn't see any price tags at all on the boxes. But surely I wouldn't need to worry. The checker had finished up with the other guy, and saw me grab a box of Premium Saltines out of the cart to add to the conveyor.

I was already out in T-Hoe, shivering, writing down the total from the receipt into my checkbook, when I noticed that the checker had CHARGED ME FULL PRICE for my Premium Saltines! Not $.99, but instead $2.50!

Was it worth taking that receipt back inside to wait in line and confront the checker? Or go to the service desk and assume they would believe me about where I picked up my box of crackers? No. It was not. Would it pauperize me to pay the extra $1.51? No. It would not.

Here's the thing. Offering items on sale gives the impression that they will be a bargain. That I'll save money. I didn't know what Premium Saltines usually cost, but the sign taped to the cart advertising them for $.99 led me to believe that they usually cost more than $.99. So I thought I was getting a good deal. I did not. I wouldn't even have bought crackers except that I thought I was serving chili for supper, not thawed-out frozen vegetable beef soup.

Uh huh. I got cheated buying crackers for the chili I never even had! Worse than that, my BARGAIN crackers had an expiration date of Jan 2019. The ones at home I gave to the dogs expired in Dec 2018. I'm pretty sure I would not have known the difference.

I wouldn't even have eaten crackers if I hadn't just paid a fortune for them. I wouldn't have just paid a fortune for them if I knew I'd be having soup instead of chili.

BRRR! Chili!

We knew the cold snap was coming. It's been in the news for a week. I know that we're inside with the thermostat set on 70, but still, looking out and knowing that single-digit temps are headed our way makes me want chili. Mmm...chili.

That's what we were having for supper on Tuesday! I had a Hot & Sour Soup container of it in FRIG II's freezer. Those containers are great for not-spilling. I'd been waiting for a good time to put this leftover chili in the supper lineup. I told Hick on Monday night, when I set it on the cutting block.

"I'm taking this chili out of the freezer for supper tomorrow."

"Yeah. That'll be good."

"You can have chili dogs if you want."

"Yeah. I'll have some chili and chili dogs."

"Okay. Just let it sit here. It's frozen solid. I'll put it in the fridge when I come up later."

You don't have to tell Hick twice to do nothing. I put the chili away around 3:00 a.m. Huh. Something in the container looked kind of funny. I guess it was a chili bean along the side. Darker than the rest of the chili. I make it with assorted beanage. Maybe kidney beans, or pork and beans, or black beans, or even blackeyed peas.

We were busy most of the Tuesday, what with buying Hick's new used truck. When I got home from the store, it was going on 4:00.

"Do you want me to go ahead and warm up the chili? I haven't had lunch, but it seems a little late for that. We could go straight to lupper."

"That's fine. I just had a piece of beef jerky while I was over at the Freight Container Garage taking some stuff out of the TrailBlazer."

"All right. Do you want your hot dogs in the oven?" I like that better than microwaving, but Hick likes them soggy in boiling water unless he has to do it himself.

"Yeah. That's good."

"Okay. I'll start warming it before I go change clothes. OH CRAP!"

"What's the matter?"

"IT'S NOT CHILI! IT'S SOUP!"

Dang it! I had my taste buds set on chili. Not soup. Don't get me wrong. My leftover soup is equally as delicious as my leftover chili. But I had been looking forward to my chili for nearly 24 hours. Mmm...chili. With crackers. Maybe some shredded cheddar sprinkled on top. I wanted chili. Not this:

I know it doesn't look so appetizing here, all full of crackers. But I assure you that my vegetable beef soup was as delicious as the day it was made:

What should have been my clue that I was thawing soup instead of chili was the green bean I saw pressed up against the side of the opaque container. I don't know about you, but I've never put green beans in my chili.

Again, the soup was quite delicious. Hick even said so. Although he commented before eating it, "Huh. I really wanted that chili." He still had his hot dogs, with KETCHUP instead of chili on them. Seems like the chili had been so tasty that we didn't have any left over after all. I didn't really NEED the crackers I'd bought for my chili. Oh, I used them in the soup, just because.

That's another story entirely...