Hick
got screwed at the auction. According to him. Got screwed royally.
Which is probably the only thing royal that will very happen to Hick.
He
and his Auction Buddy have been taking items up to a city auction near
our old favorite casino. I think they did this for three or four weeks.
They'd been going there to buy stuff for months, but the selling idea
was recent.
First of all, they were disappointed that
their stuff always went up last, after people had spent their money, and
the crowd had dwindled. They could deal with this though, because as
Hick said, "The sellers who've been there longer get their stuff put up
first. That's only right. The longer we go, the more our stuff will get
moved ahead of newer people."
Hick was not thrilled
with his sales at this auction. He had sorted through his stuff, and
taken some of the higher-end items with hopes of making more there than
at his Storage Unit Store. Still, he was willing to ride it out, and see
if he started making more in future weeks.
Well. NOW Hick has been screwed (royally) by that auction place.
"We're
done! My buddy and me ain't goin' back there! Last Tuesday, there were
only 3 people left in the audience when my stuff came up. Usually, the
auctions let you take your stuff back if you decide not to sell. So I
went to what was left on the table, and started gathering it up. I
didn't take it up there to GIVE it away! The guy in charge told me to
stop. He said he had to sell it. That's bull. Neither of us is ever
selling there again!"
So...Tuesday rolled around this
week. Hick had told me he was staying home, that his Auction Buddy was
going up to get their money. That auction pays them a week behind.
Auction Buddy was taking his wife and daughter, dropping them at the
casino, and then going over to collect his money and Hick's. But
Tuesday, the plan changed, and Hick decided to go along with him, since
Auction Buddy's family decided not to go.
"Huh. I'm sure you'll still be looking to buy something."
"Oh, yeah. I'll buy. I've gotten some really good deals there."
"From people whose stuff gets put out at the end, probably, when nobody is left to bid."
Hick did not respond to that part.
Friday, September 14, 2018
Thursday, September 13, 2018
A Dark Day (Some Call It Night) in HICKstory
"You might say I had a little experience coming home from the auction Saturday night."
Well, if you're like me, that gets your appetite all whetted for more info. Funny how Hick didn't bother to tell me of his adventures until two days later.
Hick gets home from that auction between 10:00 and 11:00. It's up north, so he comes in on a different blacktop county road, and down a two-mile section of gravel road that goes in front of HOS's (Hick's Oldest Son) house, along where Crazy Stick Road Man lives.
"I turned off on the gravel road, and thought I saw something. It was a girl with a suitcase! Just standing there, crying, trying to talk on a cell phone. I stopped to see if she was okay. You know the phones don't work out here. I put my window down, and asked what was wrong. She said, 'I came here from New York, for the love of my life, and he threw me out.'
You could see that she was upset. She was maybe 29 or 30, with blond hair. Didn't have any idea where she was. I had to ask twice if she was all right. She said she had called the police. I sat in the car for five minutes, with the window down, just trying to talk to her. Nobody showed up, so I called the dispatcher.
I couldn't go off and leave her there. She couldn't walk to town. She didn't even know which direction town was! After about 10 more minutes, a deputy showed up. He was really calm and polite to her, trying to find out what happened.
About five minutes after THAT, the K9 deputy showed up. He got out, and was a real asshole! He immediately started quizzing her, all condescending. He said, 'Well, what do you expect US to do? You HAVE been drinking.' She did smell like alcohol.
The first deputy said, 'All I can do is take you to a motel.' Here she was, six miles from town, after 10:00 at night, no idea which way to town or what roads to take, without phone service. He finally did take her to the Super 8. At least that was the plan when I left."
Okay, Hick is a nice guy, and he stopped to help. But what if the police hadn't shown up? THEN what was he going to do with that gal? She might have been a MAD STABBER for all he knew! It's not like he could bring her home for safekeeping. And if he let her in his car to drive her to town, you never know what she might have accused him of.
At least this adventure worked out okay. For Hick, anyway. I don't know what happened to the gal.
Well, if you're like me, that gets your appetite all whetted for more info. Funny how Hick didn't bother to tell me of his adventures until two days later.
Hick gets home from that auction between 10:00 and 11:00. It's up north, so he comes in on a different blacktop county road, and down a two-mile section of gravel road that goes in front of HOS's (Hick's Oldest Son) house, along where Crazy Stick Road Man lives.
"I turned off on the gravel road, and thought I saw something. It was a girl with a suitcase! Just standing there, crying, trying to talk on a cell phone. I stopped to see if she was okay. You know the phones don't work out here. I put my window down, and asked what was wrong. She said, 'I came here from New York, for the love of my life, and he threw me out.'
You could see that she was upset. She was maybe 29 or 30, with blond hair. Didn't have any idea where she was. I had to ask twice if she was all right. She said she had called the police. I sat in the car for five minutes, with the window down, just trying to talk to her. Nobody showed up, so I called the dispatcher.
I couldn't go off and leave her there. She couldn't walk to town. She didn't even know which direction town was! After about 10 more minutes, a deputy showed up. He was really calm and polite to her, trying to find out what happened.
About five minutes after THAT, the K9 deputy showed up. He got out, and was a real asshole! He immediately started quizzing her, all condescending. He said, 'Well, what do you expect US to do? You HAVE been drinking.' She did smell like alcohol.
The first deputy said, 'All I can do is take you to a motel.' Here she was, six miles from town, after 10:00 at night, no idea which way to town or what roads to take, without phone service. He finally did take her to the Super 8. At least that was the plan when I left."
Okay, Hick is a nice guy, and he stopped to help. But what if the police hadn't shown up? THEN what was he going to do with that gal? She might have been a MAD STABBER for all he knew! It's not like he could bring her home for safekeeping. And if he let her in his car to drive her to town, you never know what she might have accused him of.
At least this adventure worked out okay. For Hick, anyway. I don't know what happened to the gal.
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
The MOMENt
Heh, heh! Get it? The MOMENt. Like The Omen. But with an M. And a t.
Is it a bad omen if your chili sets off the smoke detector?
I don't mean that while you're cooking it, the alarm in the kitchen goes off. That could be caused by something on the burner getting charred. Or like when you open up the oven, and all that heat rushes out. Those kind of things happen pretty regularly for Val. She does not take it personally.
However...Monday morning I cooked up a pot of chili. Monday evening around 7:30, I went upstairs to take some of it out of FRIG II and warm it for my supper. Hick was gone to an auction, so I just ladled some out of the pot into a saucepan. Once it was hot (not boiling, mind you, just very warm), I put it in a styrofoam bowl for transport down to my dark basement lair.
There are 13 steps. At step #8, I stop to transfer whatever I'm carrying from my left hand to my right. That's because there is no rail, and I hang onto the bases of the banisters with my right hand until my position puts them over my head. From there, I use my left hand to balance myself with part of the framing around the stairs for two steps, and then grab the metal support pole holding up the main floor for the last three.
Let the record show that there's a smoke detector on that framing around the stairs. In the area above the 11th step.
There I was, holding a tray with a styrofoam bowl of chili, a ramekin holding 2 oz of shredded cheddar, and a mini cup of Caramel Swirl ice cream...when the smoke detector BEEPED. Not a full-fledged GET OUT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO BE INCINERATED steady pattern of alarm. Just a single BEEP.
After my heart settled down from the shock, I assumed that this smoke detector might need a new battery. I waited for more BEEPS after lengthy silences, but none came. Not a single one. So I guess that theory can be discarded.
Seriously. My chili is not even spicy. I can't believe it set off the smoke detector when I walked under it.
Is it a bad omen if your chili sets off the smoke detector?
I don't mean that while you're cooking it, the alarm in the kitchen goes off. That could be caused by something on the burner getting charred. Or like when you open up the oven, and all that heat rushes out. Those kind of things happen pretty regularly for Val. She does not take it personally.
However...Monday morning I cooked up a pot of chili. Monday evening around 7:30, I went upstairs to take some of it out of FRIG II and warm it for my supper. Hick was gone to an auction, so I just ladled some out of the pot into a saucepan. Once it was hot (not boiling, mind you, just very warm), I put it in a styrofoam bowl for transport down to my dark basement lair.
There are 13 steps. At step #8, I stop to transfer whatever I'm carrying from my left hand to my right. That's because there is no rail, and I hang onto the bases of the banisters with my right hand until my position puts them over my head. From there, I use my left hand to balance myself with part of the framing around the stairs for two steps, and then grab the metal support pole holding up the main floor for the last three.
Let the record show that there's a smoke detector on that framing around the stairs. In the area above the 11th step.
There I was, holding a tray with a styrofoam bowl of chili, a ramekin holding 2 oz of shredded cheddar, and a mini cup of Caramel Swirl ice cream...when the smoke detector BEEPED. Not a full-fledged GET OUT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO BE INCINERATED steady pattern of alarm. Just a single BEEP.
After my heart settled down from the shock, I assumed that this smoke detector might need a new battery. I waited for more BEEPS after lengthy silences, but none came. Not a single one. So I guess that theory can be discarded.
Seriously. My chili is not even spicy. I can't believe it set off the smoke detector when I walked under it.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Maily Taley
When I was a kid, we had this board game called Feeley Meeley. Not so much a board game, as a cardboard box with holes in each side. The object was to reach into one of those orifices (which were lined with flaps of felt so you couldn't peek inside) and pull out the most correct items, which were pictured on cards.
I don't remember how successful I was, but I'm going to say I won a lot, considering my opponents would be my mom and my sister the little future ex-mayor's wife, who was younger than me. Also, I might have sometimes tossed in extra objects while they weren't looking, which were not part of the game...
Anyhoo...the point here is that you might have known what you were expecting to be in that box, but occasionally you'd be surprised.
Kind of like my trip to the main post office every Friday. I expect to park, go inside to mail the boys' letters, and return without incident. However...
Last Friday, I put those letters through a slot in the wall. I didn't feel a need to go to the counter, because I had not included anything extra in either envelope. I know that I can get two scratchers and two pieces of paper in Genius's letter without it requiring extra postage.
I started my walk back to T-Hoe. I park up at the far end, because it's less likely that somebody will park too close to me there, and prevent T-Hoe's door from opening fully. Also, it's easier to back out, without a stream of cars driving past me looking for parking.
As I got closer to T-Hoe, I decided to share with you an object that I don't routinely see at the main post office. Why should I be the only one to appreciate it on the way in, when I could share my good fortune with a handful of readers as I returned?
I guarantee you that if I'd drawn such an object in a game of Feeley Meeley, I most certainly would have grasped this one in no time. Hopefully not cutting my fingers off in the process.
It was an empty sardine can, by cracky! Sardines in tomato sauce, from the looks of it. Which is SO VERY WRONG, because everyone knows that sardines should be in mustard sauce!
I have no idea why this tin was here. Surely nobody opened up a care package for a family member before mailing it, and snacked all willy-nilly on ill-gotten canned fish! I would hope that if they'd given such a treat to a begging bum that he at least was provided with a set of plasticware, lest he use his hands (possibly not all that clean) for utensils. AND if a good samaritan had offered that meal to a stray cat, couldn't he at least have dumped them out, so Kitty didn't have to lick the sharp edges?
Sorry for oversharing. I wasn't trying to lure you into a game of "post office." Really.
I don't remember how successful I was, but I'm going to say I won a lot, considering my opponents would be my mom and my sister the little future ex-mayor's wife, who was younger than me. Also, I might have sometimes tossed in extra objects while they weren't looking, which were not part of the game...
Anyhoo...the point here is that you might have known what you were expecting to be in that box, but occasionally you'd be surprised.
Kind of like my trip to the main post office every Friday. I expect to park, go inside to mail the boys' letters, and return without incident. However...
Last Friday, I put those letters through a slot in the wall. I didn't feel a need to go to the counter, because I had not included anything extra in either envelope. I know that I can get two scratchers and two pieces of paper in Genius's letter without it requiring extra postage.
I started my walk back to T-Hoe. I park up at the far end, because it's less likely that somebody will park too close to me there, and prevent T-Hoe's door from opening fully. Also, it's easier to back out, without a stream of cars driving past me looking for parking.
As I got closer to T-Hoe, I decided to share with you an object that I don't routinely see at the main post office. Why should I be the only one to appreciate it on the way in, when I could share my good fortune with a handful of readers as I returned?
I guarantee you that if I'd drawn such an object in a game of Feeley Meeley, I most certainly would have grasped this one in no time. Hopefully not cutting my fingers off in the process.
It was an empty sardine can, by cracky! Sardines in tomato sauce, from the looks of it. Which is SO VERY WRONG, because everyone knows that sardines should be in mustard sauce!
I have no idea why this tin was here. Surely nobody opened up a care package for a family member before mailing it, and snacked all willy-nilly on ill-gotten canned fish! I would hope that if they'd given such a treat to a begging bum that he at least was provided with a set of plasticware, lest he use his hands (possibly not all that clean) for utensils. AND if a good samaritan had offered that meal to a stray cat, couldn't he at least have dumped them out, so Kitty didn't have to lick the sharp edges?
Sorry for oversharing. I wasn't trying to lure you into a game of "post office." Really.
Monday, September 10, 2018
She Sprouts in Beauty
Not gonna lie, we've had more than our fair share of rain over the weekend. Since we live high on a hill, no bad came of the inundation, the only casualty being one of those orange-and-white striped marker thingies that keep people from driving off the side of the low water bridge. Of course the bridge was underwater for a couple days. We have an alternate route. So we escaped injury and inconvenience. We were very lucky.
We were also served up an inimitable treasure, which I discovered Saturday morning on the back porch.
What? You don't see the treasure? It's no wonder you guys haven't collected 167 pennies in the last 18 months!
There is Mother Nature's masterpiece. Dead center in the first photo.
I have no idea what's going on here. We've never grown a fungus on the porch, much less overnight. The previous evening, I had tossed the juice from a jar of dill pickles there, and also the brine from a jar of green olives. I usually dump them over the porch rail, but it was raining, by cracky, and I didn't want to melt, seeing as how my sweetness level is out of control.
Surely those fluids had nothing to do with the sprouting of the fungi. The deluge would have washed it all away in minutes. I suppose the conditions in the dirt in the cracks of the porch boards were just right.
Looks like it might be time for Hick (or his minion HOS) to replace some porch boards.
The bright color on such a drab day caught my eye, and made me wax poetic. Actually, it made me was plagiaretic.
She sprouts in beauty, in the night
In rainy times, and starless skies
And all that's best of dark, no light
Meet in her whorls, I realize
Thus risen with no eyes in sight
To party on like all fungis
_______________________________________________________________________
HEY! Looks like it's called Dacryopinax spathularia.
And it's EDIBLE! Other links showed that it's sometimes used in a dish called Buddha's Delight. Well. It might have delighted Buddha, but to me, it's a nightmare!
That's not happenin'. I'm not even going to touch it.
_______________________________________________________________________
We were also served up an inimitable treasure, which I discovered Saturday morning on the back porch.
What? You don't see the treasure? It's no wonder you guys haven't collected 167 pennies in the last 18 months!
There is Mother Nature's masterpiece. Dead center in the first photo.
I have no idea what's going on here. We've never grown a fungus on the porch, much less overnight. The previous evening, I had tossed the juice from a jar of dill pickles there, and also the brine from a jar of green olives. I usually dump them over the porch rail, but it was raining, by cracky, and I didn't want to melt, seeing as how my sweetness level is out of control.
Surely those fluids had nothing to do with the sprouting of the fungi. The deluge would have washed it all away in minutes. I suppose the conditions in the dirt in the cracks of the porch boards were just right.
Looks like it might be time for Hick (or his minion HOS) to replace some porch boards.
The bright color on such a drab day caught my eye, and made me wax poetic. Actually, it made me was plagiaretic.
She sprouts in beauty, in the night
In rainy times, and starless skies
And all that's best of dark, no light
Meet in her whorls, I realize
Thus risen with no eyes in sight
To party on like all fungis
_______________________________________________________________________
HEY! Looks like it's called Dacryopinax spathularia.
And it's EDIBLE! Other links showed that it's sometimes used in a dish called Buddha's Delight. Well. It might have delighted Buddha, but to me, it's a nightmare!
That's not happenin'. I'm not even going to touch it.
_______________________________________________________________________
Sunday, September 9, 2018
The One That Got Away
Since people don't shop much at flea markets during a deluge while under flash flood warnings...Hick went to an estate auction Saturday. He thought he had another golden frame for my best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel. I was informed by text at 12:56.
"I'm at auction at REDACTED's mom's I think Mabel will like this frame I'll try to get"
At 1:08 there was another message.
"Didn't get it 55.00"
"That's okay. She was never crazy about REDACTED anyway."
That's kind of a relief, because Babbling Hick would no doubt have spouted off too much information one of these days, and let it slip that he got the frame from a person known to both Mabel and us.
I suppose people pay more for frames at estate auctions than they do at regular weekly auctions. Or in this case, I'm inclined to believe that they were paying for the painting as well. I actually like that painting (or print, can't tell from this dim photo) more than the frame. This frame doesn't look like real wood to me. There's something too perfect about it. No chips or flaws. It looks like it was pressed out by a machine. Maybe they all are. This one just didn't appeal to me.
It doesn't really matter anyway. Hick didn't get it, and he didn't get it for MABEL, not for me.
"I'm at auction at REDACTED's mom's I think Mabel will like this frame I'll try to get"
At 1:08 there was another message.
"Didn't get it 55.00"
"That's okay. She was never crazy about REDACTED anyway."
That's kind of a relief, because Babbling Hick would no doubt have spouted off too much information one of these days, and let it slip that he got the frame from a person known to both Mabel and us.
I suppose people pay more for frames at estate auctions than they do at regular weekly auctions. Or in this case, I'm inclined to believe that they were paying for the painting as well. I actually like that painting (or print, can't tell from this dim photo) more than the frame. This frame doesn't look like real wood to me. There's something too perfect about it. No chips or flaws. It looks like it was pressed out by a machine. Maybe they all are. This one just didn't appeal to me.
It doesn't really matter anyway. Hick didn't get it, and he didn't get it for MABEL, not for me.
Saturday, September 8, 2018
Not a Very CENTSational Week for Val
Only one single solitary penny was harvested by Val this week. Found at Orb K on TUESDAY, September 4th.
Almost missed it. Walked right by on the way inside. Lucky for me, the sun revealed its presence on the way back to T-Hoe.
It was a 1975 face-down copper, put there just for me!
Either I'm not worthy of pennies right now, or there's a penny-burglar on the loose. If I come across that cent-nabber, I'm willing to share lunch. Hope he likes a crap sandwich. I also hope he's dressed like The Hamburglar. Because not only would that make him easier to spot...
It would look SO COOL!
_________________________________________________________________________
For 2018: Penny # 89.
For 2018: Dimes still at # 13.
For 2018: Nickels still at # 4.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 167.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Dime # 19.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Nickel # 4.
__________________________________________________________________________
Almost missed it. Walked right by on the way inside. Lucky for me, the sun revealed its presence on the way back to T-Hoe.
It was a 1975 face-down copper, put there just for me!
Either I'm not worthy of pennies right now, or there's a penny-burglar on the loose. If I come across that cent-nabber, I'm willing to share lunch. Hope he likes a crap sandwich. I also hope he's dressed like The Hamburglar. Because not only would that make him easier to spot...
It would look SO COOL!
_________________________________________________________________________
For 2018: Penny # 89.
For 2018: Dimes still at # 13.
For 2018: Nickels still at # 4.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 167.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Dime # 19.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Nickel # 4.
__________________________________________________________________________
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