A CENTSational Week for Val

Are you ready for this week's edition of the Saturday CENTSus? I don't think so. Unless you're kicked back on one of those sectional sofas with built-in recliners and armrest coolers. Make sure you have beverages to stay hydrated, and snacks to fortify yourself, because you'll be here a while. Let's get to it.

MONDAY, July 23rd, was a really good day.

I spied TWO pennies in Waterside Mart.

The one closest to me was a 1982, face up.

The farther one was a 2013, face down. I got my pictures and picked up my treasures, while the two cashiers gave each other the side-eye. Not that I cared. I think they were even younger than Millennials. Don't know the value of a penny!

Next stop, Country Mart, where I parked in a space not often frequented by me, and got a penny in the middle of an unoccupied handicap spot.

Can you see it there? Just below the center of the picture, to the right of that yellow mark.

It was a 1973, face down.

On to Orb K, where I saw my fourth penny of the day!

I don't know how people can be so careless with their change!

 This was a 1996, face up.
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TUESDAY, June 24th, also proved fruitful for coin-harvesting. A stop at Casey's provided me with a bashful penny peeping out from under a white sedan.

I had to work quickly for my photo, before some always-do-well blew the whistle on me for tampering with other people's autos. See it there, at the pointy part of T-Hoe's door shadow?

Even my phone got into the act, with its shadow trying to obscure this 1986 face-down cent.

My luck just didn't want to end. I went on to Orb K, since The Gas Station Chicken Store was out of Diet Coke. A motorcycle in front of me turned onto their lot, and proceeded to park in the space right next to my favorite one by the handicap walkway. Or so I thought. Because he made a little U-turn, and placed his hog right in the middle of my intended space, facing out. Well! I headed around back, to the space farthest away from the door.

When I came back with my magical elixir in the form of a Polar Pop, I saw that I was meant to park there that day. Because THIS was waiting for me.

If you think it's hard for YOU to see, imagine me there, squinting into the sunny blacktop at a smudge that I thought might be a penny.

Luck for me, it WAS! A corroded 1963, face down. Not all babies can be beautiful, you know.
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THURDAY, June 26th, brought my penny-luck back, after a CENTSless Wednesday when I cashed in my $1000 scratcher and lost money at the casino.

I made a revisit to Walmart for some Chicken Bacon Ranch Pinwheels and Hawaiian Rolls, and was rewarded for not even attempting to steal any soda this day.

I had just stowed my two hand-carried bags in T-Hoe's rear, and turned to head for the driver's seat. And there it was!

If I'd parked straight, T-Hoe's tire would have been on it!

A shiny, face-up, 1997, obviously meant for me. Helen Keller could have seen this one. Good thing I did, because if not, and it was a snake draped across the forearms of a gal in cut-off jeans and a tank top strolling down main street...it woulda bit me!

But the good fortune was not over!

In Waterside Mart, a dime was clamoring for my attention. As you can see, the employees of Waterside Mart, though snide side-eyers, are conscientious shelf-stockers!

This 2000 face-down dime couldn't quite camouflage itself from my coin-seeking peepers.

You might think that was enough good luck for Val that day, but it was not!

In Orb K, ANOTHER dime lay in wait.

This one, a face-up 2001 version.
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FRIDAY, July 27th, my penny-CENTSes were tingling again. At The Gas Station Chicken Store, Diet Coke had been restored, and a bonus penny awaited.

The new young clerk didn't bat an eye when I held up her entrance back behind the counter so I could snap a picture. "Oh, it must be your lucky day," she said. She got THAT right! Because DIET COKE was flowing again!

I snatched up my newest gem, a face-down 2002, before that place got crowded.

Are you still with me? Don't make me get the defibrillator! Has anybody slipped into a coma? Should I break open a bag of glucose? I warned you! I'm not takin' the rap for any Rip Van Winkles.

I'm pretty sure I set a new record this week, for number of pennies in a week, and number of coins in a week. The monetary record still stands, though, because I remember finding a quarter, nickel, and penny all in one day.

8 PENNIES and 2 DIMES in one week! Future Pennyillionaire Val is back on track!
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For 2018: Pennies  # 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71.
For 2018: Dimes   # 11, 12.
For 2018: Nickels still at # 4.

Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is  Dime # 17, 18.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Nickel # 4.
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Who Let the Dogs In?

Wednesday, we took my big winner to a lottery office in the city. Any winners over $600 have to be claimed in person, or mailed to a lottery office. On the way home, we stopped by our old favorite casino to try our luck. Which was not good. Don't you worry about Val's scratcher winnings, though. Those bucks made it home intact. The lottery office pays in check form.

Anyhoo...upon arrival, I headed for the restroom facilities. The very first aisle I walked down provided a most unusual sight.

THERE WAS A DOG IN THE CASINO!

I'm not talkin' about a random dog inside the building. Like when a stray runs into a school, or a kid lets him in. No. This dog apparently belonged. Because I'm pretty sure casinos have a surveillance camera or two, along with the official greeter, there to screen out drunks, and either one would alert somebody in charge to the presence of an unwanted pooch.

It was a little dog. Not yappy. Black and brown. Not long, but normal proportions, just small. He was in a harness with a leash, and was milling around, very alert, yet well-behaved. I'm thinking it was, perhaps, a Miniature Pinscher.

I can only assume that such a dog was a service animal. Probably not a seeing eye dog, because one would get a dowager's hump, what with leaning over to hold onto a tiny-handled tiny harness. So...perhaps it was an emotional support dog? I don't know of any other reason a casino would let somebody bring a dog inside. Even if they smuggled it in a purse, then set it down, the camera-watchers would get right on that.

Which leads me to declare: If you need an emotional support dog to go to a casino, perhaps you shouldn't go to a casino! Seriously. It's not like a casino visit is necessary for survival. Why would you chose a recreational activity that makes you need your emotional support dog with you?

I wonder if he was a lucky dog.

Momday, Momday

Wah-wa, wah-wa-wa-wa

Momday, Momday, so good to me
Momday mornin´, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Momday mornin´, Momday mornin´ couldn´t guarantee
That Momday evenin´ you would still be here with me

No, I didn't misspell that partial song I just stole plagiarized borrowed from The Mamas and The Papas. It just seemed to fit with my experiences on Monday.

Let the record show that I haven't seen a ladybug in a coon's age. Whereas they once were so plentiful that I couldn't turn around without seeing one in my house, in my car, on the porch, on the windshield, on TV, sitting beside me on the TV table, or in the card section of the grocery store. No matter what season or what weather conditions, I couldn't seem to get away from them. Not that I wanted to, since they remind me of my mom and her drop-ceilinged family room full of them.

Now I find pennies all the time, and hear two certain songs that remind me of Mom.

Anyhoo...Monday morning, I set off to town for a Walmart shopping spree. I stopped by the cemetery for a drive-thru visit with Mom. It's on the way, and she's conveniently located at the edge, so I park and talk a few minutes. Just stuff I'd tell her when she used to call me every morning. A little update on who's doing what. You can do the crazy finger twirl all you want, but that's what I do a couple times a week, since I'm passing by there anyway. This time, I mentioned a relative who's going through some tough times, and how I wish there was something we could do.

I completed my shopping and got in line. In the middle of checking out, an older lady came over to hug my old lady checker. "Oh, excuse me. That was my mom. She always stops to hug me when she's in here."

"That's okay. I wish my mom was still around to drop by my work." (Not that I wish I was working, though!)

"Yes, I'm very lucky that I've still got both my parents."

It was this exchange that distracted my checker from not ringing up the soda on my cart. But I realized it and told her about it so she could scan it, and I paid again with my debit. Leaving with that soda would have been wrong. My mom taught me that.

My next stop was Waterside Mart for some scratchers. While there, I found TWO pennies on the floor by the counter.

From there I proceeded back to Backroads to Country Mart for a few items. I was going to wait a day, but figured since I'd be passing by anyway, I might as well go in. I parked in my third-favorite spot, just to be different, even though the entire row up by the front of the store was open. I had my eye out for pennies, but didn't see any in the usual places. However...since I was walking across the lot, cutting through an empty handicap space, I saw ANOTHER penny!

All that was left of my errands was to pick up a 44 oz Diet Coke. The Gas Station Chicken Store has been out out, and didn't expect any until Tuesday. So I dropped in Orb K for my magical elixir. It's almost as good, and cheaper.

The soda fountain was kind of messy that day. Another customer asked me if a couple of lids laying there were mine, and I said, "No, but people sure are messy!" She picked up those lids and threw them away, and I used the towel they leave there to wipe up spilled soda. Because even though I didn't make the mess, it's nice to clean up. My mom taught me that.

Two clerks were working the Orb K counter. People had formed a general line, stepping over to the next available clerk as someone got done. I got the right-side clerk. When I turned to leave, I found ANOTHER penny over by the left-side register.

Only 10 minutes and five miles to get home. I'd been writing down the good songs I heard on a note card. There were two during the drive, and once I turned onto my gravel road, I pulled over by the creek to jot them down, so I wouldn't forget. I had a pretty good playlist to listen to in my dark basement lair with my lunch.

As I nosed T-Hoe back into the middle of the gravel road (that's how we drive out here) to finish the mile towards home, I was thinking of that relative that I wish we could help. The next song that started playing was "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye," by Patty Loveless. Yes. I've linked that a million times. It's one of my Mom-songs.

Monday night, as I got ready to write the next day's blog post, I looked down at my Shaming Bracelet to see if I was near my mileage goal for the day. I was close. But the main thing I noticed was the time.

11:11

No, I didn't see any ladybugs Monday. But I had a (one-sided) chat with Mom at the cemetery, talked to a Walmart checker about moms, found 4 pennies, heard a Mom song, and looked at the time at 11:11.

That's good enough for me.

Picker Hick's Picker Pics

FINALLY, Hick gave me some pictures from his mini-vacation to the Picker's Store.

This is the original store, before they were famous on TV, I suppose.

This is their current main store, which is situated in front of that original building. Hick said he couldn't believe this was it, and looked all around for something bigger.

This old car sits out front. Hick thinks it's a Mercury.

I thought this was an old bicycle that somebody souped-up with a motor, but Hick says it's the Indian motorcycle that he saw the Pickers dickering for on the show. Not to be confused with another Indian motorcycle that they dug up somewhere on the east coast.

Hick said the Pickers weren't in the store, that it was being run by a couple of college-looking girls. And that they didn't really have anything he wanted to buy. That the T-shirts and caps were too expensive for his tastes. C'mon. I can't believe he went all that way, and didn't even get a CAP! He has a bazillion caps, and this could have been a good memento. I forget the price, but it seems like it was $10-$12. Hardly a fortune for a Storage Unit Baron.

You might notice that Hick is doesn't really care about getting random people in his photographs. And at least they are better than his usual photography of a tiny subject dead center, surrounded by a lot of scenery.

When It Pours, It Rains

As you may recall, I had a terrific stroke of luck on Friday, when I won a large amount on a lottery ticket. Yes, the monetary skies opened, and deluged Val with winnings. Here it is, three days later, and that luck is still trying to trickle my way.

Let the record show that on Monday, I found FOUR pennies! Oh, don't lament. You'll see them in my P-Nut Gallery (Penny Nut) on Saturday. But that's not the extent of my windfall on Monday. Well...it IS. But I could have had so much more.

I had paid for my items in Walmart, and was turning my cart towards the exit, when a sudden revelation hit me. If I was a bug, I would have just been windshielded.

I HAD NOT PAID FOR MY BEVERAGES!

As many other seasoned shoppers do, I had draped my beverage packs along the sides of the cart. It gives you more room in the basket, you don't wrench your back lifting them in and out and in, and all the checker has to do is point her scan gun in their direction to ring them up. My checker had been distracted, though. A story which you'll hear later this week.

Of course I reminded her before I walked away. She had already scanned two items of the customer behind me, but she took them off and got out her gun for my beverages. She thanked me, and apologized to the other customer, who was giving me the stinkeye, not at all impressed when I said,

"I can't leave without paying for them. That wouldn't be right."

Seriously, people! Is that what society has come to? You get death-stare resting-B-face from a Millennial when you refuse to steal from Walmart?

Once outside, so as not to poke the bear, I took a picture of the evidence. Two six-packs of Diet Mountain Dew and two four-packs of Strawberry Water for Hick, and a six-pack of Diet Coke for me. As you can see, I didn't have many other items. So not paying for these beverages would have been very naughty.

See there? Even Steven gave me the opportunity to abscond with $12.59 worth of merchandise, but I didn't take the bait. No good can come of that. I've marked out the store address so you can't stalk me. No good could come of THAT, either.

Yes, everything's coming up dollar signs around Val right now. But you know how that goes. An EVENing is in order. I just don't know how soon it's coming down the pike.

Flap On, Flap Off. THE FLAPPER!

I was in the living room Sunday after 1:00 when I heard Hick coming through the kitchen. You know how it is when you're around someone for eternity a long time. You get to know the cadence of their walk. I sensed right away that something was off. I started to the kitchen, and saw Hick walking with an odd gait.

"What's wrong? You're walking funny. Are you okay?"

He was kind of lifting his left leg up higher, and swinging it out in an exaggerated manner.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's my shoe. The bottom keeps coming off."

Let the record show that Hick has been wearing either a pair of shoes left behind by The Pony, who is a 10.5, or a pair that I found uncomfortable, in men's 8.5. Hick himself is either an 8.0 or 8.5. After he sat down, and crossed that ankle over his knee, I saw the problem. It wasn't the entire sole, but only a dark colored patch of rubber, about 5 of which were decoratively surrounding the white rubber of the main part of the sole.

"That's just a little piece. You can probably superglue that back on, or just rip it off. But it might be time for a new pair of shoes."

"Well, I'm sure there's a pair around here somewhere."

Good old Hick. It's not like we MAKE him wear used shoes. Like some found in a...ahem... storage locker. No, the cast-offs he takes on from me or The Pony are just like new. Because we have other shoes we like better, and don't wear those. Sometimes, in my case, they are consciously offered to Hick for his own. And in The Pony's case, they sit around a few months, until Hick commandeers them, because they're perfectly good shoes (although 2 sizes too large for him) just sitting around.

Let the record further show that when Hick grew up, he was not wealthy. Was downright poor, with a blind dad and mostly absent mom, and went to work at 14 so he could have stuff. He said he was embarrassed when he started high school, because that building had stairs, and he was afraid someone behind him might see the holes in the soles of his shoes, where he'd stuffed cardboard inside. He even took extra cardboard on rainy days, to switch it out once he got inside the building.

I really hope Hick goes to buy a new pair of shoes for himself. Or in the very least snips off that tripping hazard.

I'm a Lucky Val

Let the record show that Val usually follows her hunches. Even if it makes her appear selfish. Oh, I'm selfish all right, but I normally don't advertise that fact. How do you think The Pony was born without a care for helping people? It is surely in his DNA.

Every Friday, I mail letters to The Pony and Genius. The Pony gets some money, and Genius gets two lottery tickets. Sometimes I buy Genius's tickets on Thursday, when I get some for myself. Occasionally, I decide to scratch his two as well, and stop on the way to the post office the next morning for two tickets to tuck into Genius's envelope. I never know when I'll get a hankerin' to scratch his tickets, but I'll say it's been less than half a dozen times. Once I won $5. And Thursday, I won $50. I'd feel bad for him, but he's making more money than I am, and I don't have to send him any tickets at all. Besides, he always has a chance to win something better on the new tickets.

So...Friday morning, I left early enough to stop at two different places to get Genius's tickets. I tucked them into his letter, and mailed it. From there, I continued on my not-daily route, out to the bank to get the usual weekly allowance for Hick and me. On the way back home, I stopped at the CRAZY MAN DONUT INCIDENT Casey's, to get gas for T-Hoe. I don't really like going there anymore, and only do it when I get gas, since my favorite Casey's went out of business.

My plan was to spend the rest of that $50 I had won on that [originally Genius's] ticket. I'd spent $10 on Genius's new tickets, and was contemplating $10 for my own tickets, and $30 on gas. That's about 1/3 of a tank for T-Hoe. I top him off every week, never letting him get too low. Because who wants to spend $100 to fill him up??? Not this ol' Val, that's for sure.

Once inside, I saw that this store had five of the $5 tickets to choose from. I picked out two, using the logic that the older tickets are going to start paying, because new ones come out on the last Monday of the month. One of the tickets I selected was this kind:

After all, what ticket is more appropriate for Val than one called CASINO CASH? It has two different areas to win. You can find a money bag symbol in a little box, and win 5/10/15/30. I always scratch that part first. I did not get a money bag. I glanced down at the bottom to read the instructions, because I forget which symbols are good on which tickets. I had no sooner checked those two symbols (a pair of dice, or a roulette wheel) than I scratched off the top number (or so I thought) and FOUND A ROULETTE WHEEL! That means it's a WIN ALL. I win all the prizes.

You can imagine how excited I was! As much as when I won that $50 the day before. I counted how many chances I had to win. Huh. It was 12. I had immediately assumed that each of those winning amounts would be the minimum. I expected to get 10 of the $5 amount, and win $50. But 12 chances didn't work out like that. I didn't know any ticket that paid $60. So I got my hopes up that maybe it was a combination of $5 and $10, and I'd won $100. Even better!

Well. I was flabbergasted when I scratched off the first prize amount, and saw $100! That's definitely a good start! But it got even better...

In case you don't want to add that up, it's $1000, people! I won $1000 on a $5 ticket.

Of course I sent a picture of it to Genius, AKA Mr. Pics Or It Didn't Happen. I also wished him well on his two tickets that are in the mail, but cautioned that I might just have used my luck on myself after dropping his in the mail slot.

As of yet, I have not received a congratulatory text from Genius.

Seriously. It's not like I can tell which ticket is going to win. Or help it if my luck is non-transferrable. I also left out the part about me scratching his original tickets and winning $50. What Genius doesn't know can't hurt him.