FINALLY!

Mark your calendar! Hick has WON a "price" at Tuesday night bar bingo!!! He was happy as a puppy with two-- Well, that's not a phrase befitting for a lady such as Val. But Hick was HAPPY! He first notifed me at 7:20 p.m., with a cryptic text:

"I want it, bingo, I'll show you when I get home. It's adore stop."

Heh, heh! Whose curiosity wouldn't be piqued by such a message? Though I rarely wish for Hick to return early from bar bingo, I was not as disappointed when he arrived at 7:40.

It's a DOORSTOP. About 18 inches from stem to stern. Or from the top of the turners to the bottom of the body. Silky material, cushy, like maybe stuffed with old plastic grocery bags, not beans. The bottom is weighted. 

It's a plump little guitar.

Quite 3-dimensional. Right now it's sitting on the kitchen chair where Hick parks his rumpus to eat holiday meals. It could double as a back pillow. 

Anyhoo... I knew you would be excited to learn that Hick has broken his always-losing streak at bar bingo. But he was disappointed to read on his phone Wednesday night that somebody had won a big prize at his OLD bar bingo: $1100 for the grand prize, I think. Not as good as the $8000 his buddy won at the current Tuesday night location, which is why they switched. 

Maybe Hick will go back to the Wednesday night game. You know, following the jackpot.

Hick's Infatuation With His New Bingo Server May Not Be Reciprocated

We have a FRIG II full of leftovers from our Easter feast, but of course Hick went off to his bingo night to eat bar food. Not only that, but to further negate all the hard work I put into our food, Hick had to send me a picture touting his new food server at bingo night. Rub it in, why don't you! You've got it made. Shame on me for not fixing your plate on Sunday, and feeding it to you while fanning you with palm fronds!

Anyhoo... I got a text from Hick at 5:30.

"Our new food server at bingo."

"Genius would love that!"

"Yes I sent him a picture."

I'll go out on a limb here, and say that Hick didn't tip the server. I was about to ask him what in the Not-Heaven he was doing eating a SALAD, but then I realized that wasn't Hick. Hick doesn't wear a Nike shirt.

Did Hick win at bingo? You'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out...

The Easter Feasters

The Pony joined us on Sunday for an Easter feast. I didn't go all out this time. Just ham, roasted vegetables, 7 layer salad, deviled eggs, stuffing, Sister Schubert's Rolls, and chips with dip. Now that I type it out, it seems like a lot!

The Pony certainly had recovered his appetite! He loves the roasted vegetables. Also the Schubert's rolls. That's The Pony's own personal pan. He doesn't like the peas in the 7 layer salad, so I made him a separate salad without them. He's got ham and cheese and sliced red onion, stuffing, deviled eggs, and plenty of dip for the chips.

My plate included a sandwich. That's how I like my ham. It was on Nutty Oat bread.

Okay, the ham overlapped the bread, but I had the thin slices, not like Hick's. I also love the roasted vegetables. A token couple of deviled eggs, a couple rolls, and my 7 layer salad. With which I had an issue, but don't feel like airing that now.

Hick wanted a giant slice of ham steak. I did not begrudge it.

There's that slab of meat, with deviled eggs, vegetables, stuffing, baby dills, and the 7 layer salad. Looks like Hick is not concerned with elbows on the table. Nor does he hold out his pinky finger on the fork. It's not like we're high society etiquette espousers. Not even a tablecloth or glass glasses.

What you can't see is Hick's attire. Black shirt, with neon-colored faces on it. He was wearing a KISS t-shirt! Not that there's anything wrong with that. But neither The Pony nor I had ever seen it before.

"Dad. What are you wearing?"

"A t-shirt."

"I know. But KISS? Why? Do you even know the name of anyone in the band? Do you know any of their songs?"

"No. But The Veteran gave me this t-shirt. So I'm wearing it."

An interesting choice on Easter Sunday, for dinner. Although Hick DID go to his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store 2) to do business from 7:00 a.m. until 11:00. Maybe he was trying to impress his customers. Said he had "several" lookers, but no buyers. I might have predicted that, except for the "lookers" part.

You may notice that the plates of The Pony and I are full. The Pony set my plate down while I was putting a couple cold items back in FRIG II. Hick had gone first, filling his plate. He was already chowing down while The Pony and I got our food! You'd think he could have waited, and not gone after it like a ravenous canine.

Anyhoo... dessert was just a choice of storebought stuff. Some M&M cookies, iced brownie bars, and cinnamon sweet rolls. The Pony took home all the brownies, and ate a cookie. Hick had a cookie and a sweet roll. I had a cookie later that evening.

We all enjoyed ourselves, and Hick took The Pony home at 5:30 with a bag of leftovers.

The Pony: On the Route to Recovery

The Pony has been having a hard time with his most recent dog bite that he incurred (heh, heh, inCURred, get it?) on Thursday. Said it was very painful, because it didn't just hurt if he bumped it on something, or lifted a heavy package. It hurt every time he took a step. Or turned over in bed. In fact, he only slept a couple of hours on Thursday night. Took his morning shower at 2:00 a.m., and just laid around. 

Friday morning, The Pony debated on going to work. He sent the manager a text, and she replied that they were fine, to take off (using his leave, of course) and rest that wound. Two minutes later, two other people had called out. So she said IF The Pony felt like he could do anything, he could come in.

The Pony is not one to slack at work. He said he'd do a couple laps around the house to see how well he could walk, and would try to come in. He ended up casing some mail for a couple hours, but then clocked out, not feeling like he could do the walking on the route. It must have been The Pony's lucky day, because somebody was retiring, and they had donuts and biscuits and gravy at the office. A couple people said they didn't want to sit next to The Pony, because he's a dog-bite magnet. The Pony partook of a bear claw and some gravied biscuits, then went home and spent most of the day sleeping, with his leg up.

That's from the post office, not quite 24 hours after the bite. The bruise has spread, and the bite hole was leaking a bit from standing.

The Pony had more sleep on Friday night, but the leg was still very sore on Saturday morning. The Pony dosed himself with Excedrin and ibuprofen through the day, and went to work.

Around noon, The Pony sent this picture.

"About to take a bathroom break and change the bandaid. It's looking pretty unhappy with me today, but the red around it is normal, going off the last bite. It's draining a little, but clear and not bloody."

On the phone that morning, The Pony revealed more about the incident. It was a house with a fenced yard. The owner has requested that the mailman use a certain gate to enter (which The Pony did) to put the mail in the mailbox on the porch. He has FOUR dogs, all French bulldogs. They are house dogs, and only come out when nature calls, or maybe to play sometimes. The Pony has not encountered them out in the yard while delivering the mail. 

This time, he thinks the owner didn't know he was still in the yard. The owner opened the door to get his mail, and either let out the dogs, or they escaped. One ran up behind The Pony and bit. The owner didn't see it, but noticed the commotion, and said, "Did she get you?" The Pony said, "Yeah. It's okay." And kept going, not wanting to stand in the yard with four dogs, one which had just put a tooth in his leg. The owner hollered that all the dogs had been vaccinated. The Pony said he didn't notice the blood until a few steps down the sidewalk, because his shorts had been rubbing on it and soaking it up.

Anyhoo... The Pony got home at 4:45 on Saturday.

"Everything either hurts or is numb. I'm just gonna crash because I've got no appetite."

At least The Pony developed an appetite by 1:30 on Sunday, when Hick picked him up to join us for Easter dinner. I guess going without lunch and supper the previous day will do that for you!

More on the Easter dinner tomorrow...

Hick Has the Scoop. Kind of.

Saturday, when I parked T-Hoe in my rightful handicap space at the Backroads Casey's, I saw that the right side door was covered with cardboard! Casey's has two glass doors at the entrance. Obviously, the one on the right was not to be used, though they didn't have a sign on the outside. Only on the inside, where a handwritten piece of paper said, "Please Use Other Door."

Of course I was dying to know what happened. The Old Lady Clerk who seems gruff, but is friendly with me, and recently sold a $5 ticket that won $100,000, was at the counter. I resisted the urge to interrogate her about the door issue. It's bad enough she was working on the Saturday evening before Easter. And probably got that question from all the customers. So I just paid for my tickets and left. Out the proper door, you know.

At home, I told Hick about the door. Thinking I knew something he didn't.

"Yeah. It was broke."

"Wait! It was broken this morning at 6:30 when you were there?"

"Yeah. The gal said it opened too far, and hit the stopper, and broke."

"Like, from the wind? I never saw a stopper there by their doors. You mean the hinge thing?"

"No. The hinge is what the door hangs on to open. The hydraulic thing at the top, that opens the doors."

"Oh, that thing. That's what I meant. Not the actual hinges. Did the wind catch it?"

"No. It was a mad customer. Shoved the door open too far on the way out."

"What was he mad about?"

"I don't know."

"Well, how could they let it go all day? How can they close up with cardboard for a door?"

"They don't close."

"What? They're open 24 hours?"

"Yeah."

"When I worked at a Casey's, we closed at 11:00. And opened at 5:00 a.m."

Hick is not a very good reporter. He's missing a few facts. What kind of psycho asks what happened to the door, but doesn't find out what the disgruntled customer was disgruntled about?

Senior Center Bingo, the Big Farm Upstate for Unwanted Gifts

Hick's latest Senior Center bingo "prices" were going to be yesterday's top story here at Val's cathouse, until The Pony suffered his newest dog bite. I doubt Hick minds being pushed from the headlines. I'm sure The Pony would gladly jump in the wayback machine if he could avoid being the news.

Anyhoo... Hick, much like a cat leaving mutilated tiny corpses on the porch in front of the door, proudly left me a text crowing about his win(s).

"My bingo winnings today. Won twice."

"A card, candle, and blanket?"

"Body lotion card and blanket."

"Why do you have a card? It looks like a sympathy card."

"It's a metal sign. Looks like a card."

I can't read what the sign/card says. I would swear that jar was a candle, but apparently Hick now has body lotion to sooth himself. And more preventative equipment for hypothermia. The jar says AROMATHERAPY. And eucalyptus spearmint. It's a sugar body scrub for stress relief. I think just seeing Hick slathered in that stuff would relieve MY stress, heh, heh!

As always, such an odd conglomeration of "prices" at Hick's Senior Center bingo.

A Heartbreaking Quirk of Staggering Unfairness

My heart broke a little more on Thursday, when I got a text from The Pony before noon. I'd been dreading it. Every time my phone buzzed, I had a feeling it was something bad about The Pony. I don't feel like that every day, but since I had talked to The Pony at 6:00 a.m., I felt that way on Thursday. With each check of the phone I was relieved that it was someone else. Yet the next buzz would put me in a panic again. Finally, the shoe dropped.

"Well. Guess what happened again."

I got a brief glimpse of the picture before I put my glasses on. My mind kept assuring itself that The Pony had merely fallen and skinned a knee. My mind was a dirty dirty liar. When I looked at the picture, I felt a wave of heat and weakness flood my body. I guess it was adrenaline.

"NOOOOOO!"

"I should probably report it but I don't want to deal with that again and I've already got the antibiotic ointment since the other isn't even healed yet."

"Rabies info?"

"Guy said they're vaccinated. Good enough for me. Little yappy thing that jumped up. Because some people with boxes on their porch just can't wait until I'm outside the fence to get their mail."

"Well. Small chance of a house dog having rabies, anyway. That's gonna bruise."

"Just don't know how much longer I can deal with this."

"At least you've had a tetanus shot, and know the treatment protocol. I don't have a solution."

"Not any good solutions, yeah."

"Maybe bid on another route?"

"Next one coming open is worse. It has the druggy part by the produce distributor being sued for not paying the non-citizens enough, plus the Nazi tattoo shop."

"Forget THAT!"

Just before 5:00, The Pony sent another picture:

"Update after bandaging."

"Dang, that bruised fast! You can see the other teeth pressure points."

"It hurts. I think this one was, like, a French bulldog."

"They can't breathe right! And can't have pups without a C-section. Maybe biting is their forte." [Let the record show that the sole source of my knowledge is what I've seen on The Incredible Dr. Pol.]

"I guess. I don't know what else can go wrong this month!"

Around 8:00, The Pony sent me a bedtime picture. Shows off his mailman's tan, too!

"Not even 12 hours yet. I'm just gonna rest and hopefully wake up in time to test how stiff the leg is as the bruise keeps developing. We'll see how it goes."

Poor, poor, Pony! It's not the dogs' fault. They are just doing what dogs do. Protecting their people because somebody is in the yard or on the porch. It's the owners who deserve the blame, for putting the dog and the mailman in that situation.

The Pony DID report the incident to his manager right after it happened. The Universe owes The Pony an apology. This is two bites in two weeks.