Anticipating a Perk for the GrillMaster's Services

Hick volunteered to grill for the Senior Center on Friday evening. The way that came about is a convoluted tale. 

"Me and one of the residents who is 84 years old were talking, and I told her I had a pool. She said we should have a pool party. I said we couldn't do that, but we could have a barbecue."

"WHAT? It's an above-ground pool! You haven't used it in two years. Why in the world would somebody think you could host a pool party??? Like those old people could get out here and go down the steps to POOLIO and get in the pool!"

"That's why I said we couldn't have it."

"So how did that 84-year-old resident schedule a barbecue using federal funds?"

"She didn't. I talk to more than one person, Val. It was the director who decided on the barbecue. And it's not federal funds. She got donations. She's having 60 hot dogs, 40 sausages, and 40 hamburgers. Plus a tray of whole vegetables, like carrots and stuff. And soda and water."

"That's 100 hot dog buns alone! Plus the meat! That's a lot of donations."

"Country Mart is donating the buns, I think. I don't know about the other stuff."

Anyhoo... this cookout is listed in the monthly newsletter of the Senior Center. An evening of BBQ and bingo on the patio out back. I'm happy that the residents upstairs can enjoy some grilled food.

Hick loaded GassyG Jr in the back of SilverRedO on Thursday evening, to take to town for grilling. The whole thing seems a bit sketchy to me. Hope nobody gets food poisoning!!! Hick said anybody who eats at the Senior Center can go. They were supposed to RSVP so the director would know how many people to expect. 

Meanwhile, Val is hoping that Hick will receive some leftovers to bring home. It's not like they can keep them to serve on Monday. Legally...

Not Sure Why Hick is Privy to This QuickFlip Information

You may recall that there was drama with the QuickFlip house a couple day ago. The previous Half-Owner demanded on Sunday to remove his stuff stored in the garage IMMEDIATELY, at his convenience. The now Old Lady owner said that was not his prerogative. That he could make an appointment to remove "his" property from her now-legal property.

Anyhoo... it really has nothing to do with us. Hick gave the Old Lady buyer the contact number of the previous Half-Owner at closing. Because he was entitled to remove his tractor and a couple lawnmowers from the garage on the QuickFlip property.

Wednesday, Hick sent me a text around 11:00. 

"You won't believe what happened today. (Previous) Half-Owner come to get his stuff out of the garage at the QuickFlip house, and just told the Old Lady that she could have all the stuff. About $2500 worth."

"Maybe he doesn't have anywhere to put it. Or a way to move it."

"He came and took some stuff and said he didn't really have anyplace to put it wish he would have given it to me but she owns it all now."

"Does she want it? I thought she was trying to clear it out."

"Yes she is giving it to her grandson."

"Well. She got a good deal."

Of course Hick is beside himself over losing this windfall. But he is friends with (previous) Half-Owner's brother, not the (previous) Half-Owner himself. 

So... the Old Lady got a good deal, and we got a good deal on the sale. No complaints from Val!

Hick the Wheeler-Dealer Bargains Again

As I was leaving for town on Tuesday afternoon, Hick was mowing the front yard/field. He was parked beside the driveway, motor running, on his yellow lawnmower.

"Do you want something?"

"No. My zero-turn-mower won't start."

Hick had originally come home to fix a flat tire on that zero-turn mower. He got it from some buddy who didn't need it anymore. Tinkered with it every time something went wrong. LOVES the zero-turn, since it is much faster than a regular mower, and has levers for turning, rather than gripping a steering wheel.

"Huh. I guess you could use your fortune from your Storage Unit Store (2) to buy another one."

Let the record show that Hick has been pricing zero-turn mowers at Lowe's and The Family Center, on a tip from another buddy that some were on sale. The cheapest was $5,000. Hick has a regular working mower that he bought without consulting me a few years ago. I'm not about to okay a new mower from our joint finances... (Lest you think I am being unfair to Hick, let me remind you that he has TWO tractors that he said he needed for mowing the acreage. In fact, I gave him approval for buying the second one, with the understanding that he would sell the first. Didn't happen.)

"I heard a guy on the radio today that has a zero-turn mower for $4,000. It's a 2022, with a year left on the warranty."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, as far as I know. He might just buy them and sell them. He said he's asking $4,000, but that cash talks."

"Well. I guess you can take some of your Storage Unit Store profits, and buy it." [Seriously. Selling the two tractors that are not used for mowing would also cover the cost!]

"I thought about taking $3,000 over there, and offering it."

"You never know."

While I was in town, Hick sent me a text that he was going to talk to the mower guy. I passed him on my way home, with his trailer hooked to SilverRedO. I assumed Hick meant business.

Yes, Hick came home with that zero-turn mower. He paid $3,700 for it, and said it was worth $4,500. It has a 54" mower deck. Hick's often-repaired zero-turn mower has a 50" mower deck. And his regular mower has a 48" mower deck. Hick not only mows our considerable acreage, but also the Double Hovel flip house yard, and The Pony's yard, though he charges The Pony. HICK'S money. Not ours.

Anyhoo... I heard that mower mowing before Hick came into the house. I think he is pleased with his deal.

Trouble in QuickFlip Paradise

You may recall that last month, Thevictorians legally sealed a deal on a property that Hick had made a handshake agreement on many months previous. And that about three weeks later from our official possession, we sold that property.

As with most of Hick's deals, there was a gentleman's agreement, recognized by the Old Lady who was the final buyer. That the original Half-Owner could take possession of his 8N Ford Tractor that was in a garage, along with a couple of lawnmowers. 

Fast forward two weeks from the closing. The Half-Owner had still not come to retrieve his tractor and lawnmowers. Which he'd known for a couple months that he needed to remove from the property.

Half-Owner called Old Lady on Sunday morning at 8:30.

"I want my tractor! You changed the locks on my garage! I want to pick up my tractor! You need to get over there and let me in!"

Old Lady was having none of that.

"It's not your garage anymore. It's not convenient for me to go there now. You can schedule a time with me this week and I will let you in to get your tractor and lawnmowers."

"You can't do that! I don't have to make an appointment with you!"

It's not our problem. Old Lady told Hick about it. But we have nothing to do with this feud. We bought the property. We sold the property. It belongs to Old Lady, who had every right to change the locks. Half-Owner has known for a long time that he needed to remove his tractor and lawnmowers from the property. Old Lady is not denying him his tractor and lawnmowers. Only asking that he come at a time that is convenient for her. It's a 30-minute drive for her to get there. She's not living in the house yet.

I'm not so sure that Half-Owner possesses the normal amount of common sense. Hick has said that his buddy, the one who offered him the property, is a well-liked, respected dude. But that many people do not speak highly of Half-Owner, his brother.

Anyhoo... not our monkey, not our circus.

Hopefully, the End is Near

Poor Pony! Still dealing with the mistake of Hick in not getting over to his house to check out the DEAD smell in the attic, after leaving poison for the scampering squirrel in the attic. Not responding for 13 DAYS! There is no excuse for that! The Pony was depending on Hick.

I got a text from The Pony on Sunday, June 2.

"Like, a dozen live flies in my bathroom right now so I guess not all of the maggots came out. At least these are killable!"

"Do you want me to bring a flyswatter?"

"I have mine. The killing field:"

"Yikes! How many have you killed?"

"I killed at least two dozen, unless some weren't dead on the first hit. And 'only' in the bathroom which has no food or anything else, so, got to be from the dead squirrel. Either crawled out of the walls or something."

"Eventually, the massacre will be complete."

I offered to pick up some insect spray for The Pony, but he said his flyswatter is good enough. Dang Hick and his lackadaisical attitude towards The Pony's attic pest.

Another Numbskull Adventure with Val

I left home a little late Thursday, on my way over to Sis-Town for weekly errands. Getting to the bank before it closed was a priority. The Universe chose to put many obstacles in my way, just for chuckles, I suppose. Obstacles like people parked down by mailbox row, waiting for the (summer) school bus. You'd think responsible parents would know to park off the side of our gravel road, and not directly in the driving lanes. Only because they were staggered on both sides that I could weave through. 

Makes me wonder, if you're off work at 3:20 p.m., couldn't you just drive the five miles to the elementary school and pick up your kid? Rather than sitting in your car for 20 minutes, waiting for your little darling to endure a wait for the second-run bus, when they're tired and missing you after a hard day at summer school?

Anyhoo... I was a bit preoccupied on my errand trip. When I got to the stoplight in School-Turn Town, the middle of my back was itching severely, right between the shoulder blades. Probably a tendril of my too-long not-so-lovely lady-mullet that had pulled up roots with the intention of running away.

I reached to the back seat floor area for my wooden backscratcher. Not the good red-colored one that is downstairs by my recliner. The wood-colored one that I keep in the seat-back on the passenger side. It always falls sideways in the seat-pocket, so when we went to sign papers on the QuickFlip House, I had The Pony dig it out and lay it where I could reach it.

Ooh! I was so excited that within seconds my itch would be scratched! I grasped that wooden backscratcher and IT WOULDN'T FIT BETWEEN THE SEATS!

What in the Not-Heaven???

I glanced back, and saw that I was holding my CANE! Which I'd put in T-Hoe to go to the paper-signing at the title company, although I hadn't needed to use it. Well. That was embarrassing. And unfortunate, because my back was still itching!

The light turned. Once I made it through the intersection, and was driving on the 35 mph road to the bank, I reached back again. Felt to make sure I had the flat shape of the backscratcher handle. I did. I pulled it forward and jammed the "hand" part of it down my shirt collar, knowing that relief would be imminent.

It was not.

The dang "fingertips" on the "hand" at the end of my backscratcher were too dull! It felt like trying to scratch an itch with the nubby end of a mini carrot!

At least my recent spate of uncooperative Universe shenanigans has not been as severe as that of The Pony.

Val's Tales of the Unexplained: Birthday Edition

Okay everybody. We don't need any injuries that will keep you from reading Val's subsequent posts! So let's get ready for this tale. Start limbering up. Stretch out your crazy temple twirly finger!

Last fall, I bought a new printer. I might have mentioned it here, or not. It's been a while since we had a working printer, my trusty laser version in my basement lair having gone crazy a few years back, and the giant office version Genius had gotten a bargain on in college only working sporadically. Neither of them responding to my commands from HIPPIE upstairs.

Anyhoo, I know I got this inkjet printer before Sept 6, 2023, because that's the day The Pony set it up for me while he was out here for Labor Day to have grilled steaks. Well. You get what you pay for. My new printer worked a couple times, then quit. It ACTS like it's printing, but the black ink doesn't work. I looked up internet fixes for what seems to be a very common issue with this model, and had no success reviving it. So basically, after my last unsuccessful try in mid-March with tax forms, that printer just sits there in front of the living room window on a TV tray, doing nothing. I didn't even bother to walk over and turn off the power. I wash my hands of this lemon, and will give it away to Hick to distribute to anybody who wants it. That printer is in sight, but out of mind.

Meanwhile, on Friday morning at 6:00, I called The Pony for our daily chat before he gets ready for work. Hick had already left, headed for his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store 2). I didn't have much to say, nor did The Pony. Around 6:05, as we were saying out goodbyes, a BRIGHT FLASH OF LIGHT lit up the living room.

What in the Not-Heaven??? I mentioned it to The Pony.

"Don't know what's going on here! Just had a flash of light! No storms. The sun is just coming up. The living room lights are on, but there was just a bright flash! TV is fine. No phone interference. WAIT A MINUTE! It's my printer! That front window panel thingy just lit up. It's like it took a picture of me! Weird! Why would it do that? It better not be SPYING ON ME!"

Heh, heh. Val is always about her conspiracies. The Pony had no idea why that printer would come on after two months of sitting dormant. It's not like I have the app on my phone and could have hit it with my face. The only place I have the app is on HIPPIE, which was on the kitchen table, turned off and unplugged.

I hung up from The Pony and took a picture of the printer with its window light clearly on:

I intended to send it to The Pony later, at 7:00, when I sent him a wakeup text. As I set my phone down on the table, I realized the date. May 31. That was my mom's birthday! I had been thinking about it all week. Even shouted out "Happy Birthday tomorrow, Mom!" as I drove by the cemetery on Thursday, in a hurry to the bank. So now, I said it again: "Happy Birthday, Mom."

The light on the printer went off.

For years, my mom would call me every weekday morning at 6:00. It was our time to chat, after Hick had left for work, and the boys were getting ready for school. 

I sent The Pony a text:

"Today is Grandma's birthday, and it's the time we always talked to each other. Now there's funny electrical activity. COINCIDENCE???"

"Ghosts!"

"As soon as I took the light picture, and said 'Happy Birthday,' the light went off."

"Awwww."

Not saying my mom lives in a busted printer! Only that there are forms of energy we can't always explain with simple logic.