He Lacks Brass Bollocks

I never know what picture I'll be surprised with when Hick goes to an auction. I'll be sitting there, toasty warm-in-the-knees from my under-desk heater, in front of New Delly in my dark basement lair...when my phone buzzes. It's an adventure, really. Will it be Auction Meat? A toilet BOWL? A figurine that looks like Thomas Jefferson sitting on a boot taking a crap?

Last Tuesday, I got this one, with a text straight from the horse-buyer's fingertips:

"Trophy craft brass horse I paid 9 for him and others look him up around $150"

He's just a little horse. According to Hick, it's a brass vintage horse, made by Trophy Craft, from the 1940s or earlier. He says it's worth $150, but after his special painting of that naked lady, worth $10,000 (according to Hick) but sold for $75...I'm not so sure.

Of course I tried to look it up online. I found several similar. VERY similar. But they have tails that don't lift up like that, and the horse's chin isn't tucked down so far. They're not exactly alike. It could be the difference in buying a Cartier watch, or a Carter watch.

Anyhoo...I found myself flipping this horsie over, peering at his nether regions with my new MAGNIFICENT Magnifying Glass. Let the record show that this fellow is NOT anatomically correct. And that all I could find, on one inner thigh, was Trophy Craft.

Hick paid $9 for this horse, and some other stuff in a box. I told him that I'd seen similar horses online, not exact, that were going for $30 to $40. To which he replied,

"I'd be happy as could be to get $40 for it!"

It's all about the quantity with Hick. Buy as many things as you can, and sell them for more than you paid. He's not greedy. Just a merchandise mover.

That's No Walking Stick

When I came back from town last Monday, Jack and Copper Jack were strolling around the top of Bone-of-Contention Hill. I figured maybe they'd followed Hick on the tractor, and ranged down there following a scent. I put my window down and told Jack to get home. I didn't see either dog in my rear-view mirror. But coming up the driveway, I saw Juno dashing across the front yard, coming from Shackytown Boulevard towards the house. She's always the first to greet me.

I was ever-vigilant around my Sweet, Sweet Juno. Knowing that she had been cracking open an armadillo's shell scant hours earlier, like she was having a creekside lobster feast. I was a bit put off by her unbridled joy at my return. Uh huh. I put the kibosh on her intended lovefest. Having had her moist black rubbery nose jammed into my open mouth previously, I was in no mood for a repeat. Lips that touch (possibly leprous) armadillos will never touch mine.

Poor, poor Juno. She stood on the side porch, between the stair rail and the metal chair that I use to put grocery bags on. The chair that Hick moves every time he BBQs on Gassy G, and refuses to return to its rightful place. The area where Juno stood is usually claimed by Jack. He fits right through that gap, while Juno generally detours around the chair, to lean her head over the sidewalk and be the first to greet me as I come out the people-door of the garage.

I suppose my standoffishness yelling, "NO! JUNO!" as I came out of the garage made her think twice. Juno still loves me, though! She stood, wagging her bushy tail eagerly, awaiting a pat and kind word, with an open-mouthed doggy smile on her lips.

CLANG CLANG CLANG!!!

What in the Not-Heaven? Why was I hearing a clanging noise? It was synchronized with Juno's tail wags. She's hit things before with her tail, but the sound is more muffled. This sounded like a bare bone slamming into the metal legs of the chair.

As I stood, puzzled, Juno saw her opening. She ducked her head and strolled toward me. It was almost as if she was embarrassed. Still clanging.

That's when I noticed that Juno's tail was twice its normal length. How was that even possible? While trying to fend off her eager face, I saw the problem. Juno's tail was drooping under the weight of a long stick. It was tangled in her feathery tail fur. TANGLED!

Of course I tried to remove it. Juno was shy, due no doubt to me rebuffing her attempts at our lovefest, and instead holding the back of her neck with my right hand, and trying to rip a thorny stick from her tail with my left. She made several feinting moves to run back through the chair/rail gap, but I had a good hold on her. Almost as good as that stick. I finally had to speak harshly to her, which makes her sit down and hang her head. Then I used both hands, one on her tail, the other on the stick, until I ripped it loose.

Look at the size of that monster:

Oh, it may not look so menacing in that view. But here's why I had to rip out a few hairs to wrest it loose from Sweet, Sweet Juno's feathery tail:

I got a few of those thorns embedded in my left ring finger for my trouble, but they pulled out easy enough. I had to rescue my Sweet, Sweet Juno from its clutches. Can you imagine her roaming the neighborhood, wagging that thing? She would have been a laughingstock to the other livestock.

Sweet, Sweet Juno is an Animal

Hick got out his tractor and roller on Monday, and set to work smoothing the roads. He was assisted by Buddy, his oldest (longest, not in age) friend out here, who was helping, using his dump truck to haul rock.

Right before I left for town, I got a text from Hick:

"Juno with a baby armadillo she killed it sounds crunchy when she tried eating it"

Well...pics or it didn't happen, I guess.

This was down by the creek and mailbox row, where Hick was graveling at the time. You can see that one of those unknown loiterers have left Juno a water bottle in case she wants to enjoy an after-armadillo crunch. I don't know about you, but that doesn't look like any BABY armadillo I've ever seen. Though let the record show that I have never seen a baby armadillo, just the adults, living and dead, along the road. Check out the size of the tail on that critter!

Before I even pulled from the driveway onto the gravel road, I saw Hick and Buddy blocking it, over in front of the BARn field. Hick was at least off the side, sitting on his tractor. Buddy had his dump truck parked in the middle, and was standing by it, talking to Hick. I pulled over on the killer poodle and crazy Rottweiler's grassy area between road and fence, to get around. But I had to stop to give Hick some advice.

"We're fixing the road." Uh huh. More like shooting the bull.

"Armadillos can carry leprosy."

"I know." Suuure he did.

"Well, don't let her lick you."

As IF! Juno is MY dog! She loves to run after Hick on the tractor or Gator, and will tolerate him patting her on the head, and merely whimper and try to pull loose when he puts medicine between her shoulder blades, or picks off an errant tick. But no way would my Sweet, Sweet Juno jam her moist, rubbery, black nose into HIS mouth!

I was on my guard when I came home. No matter how much you love them, and how much you think your pets love you back...they are animals first.

As proven by the (perhaps leprosy-tainted) jaws of Juno.

Val Is NOT Related to Paul Bunyan

Let the record show that I have a standing order with Hick to find me certain items at the auction. One of them was my penny goblet, for storing my Future Pennyillionaire fortune. Hick sailed through with flying colors on that one. Hit it out of the park.

Even though he got it (possibly by hook or by crook, we all know how Hick loves a bargain) from two little girls minding a yard sale table while their grandma went in the house.

Hick also found me a letter opener. It was quite beautiful, but sucked at opening letters.

 Then he found me a more basic model, so I could stop using a paring knife to open the mail.

The only item remaining on my standing order is a magnifying glass. I need it to read fine print sometimes, like on the bottom of an insurance card. Or the dates on my found pennies. I've been using the scratched plastic model that came in a glasses repair kit. I've had that thing for years. It works, but it's kind of tiny. And let's not forget: scratched.

A couple weeks ago, I found a magnifying glass on the kitchen counter. I knew it was for me. It was, after all, the morning after Hick had been to an auction. And I'd been asking for a magnifying glass. Let me share this magnificent magnifier with you.

That, my blogfriends, is a hard-core magnifying glass. Heavy duty. A magnifying glass on steroids. If I was an arsonist, I could have set those California fires from here. It is...um... how you say...TOO FREAKIN' BIG! I almost tore my rotator cuff when I picked it up. The kitchen counter is going to need special supports to hold it.

I'd say Hick was being all passive-aggressive in giving me this behemoth, but we have no current beef, and he was pretty pleased with himself for finding it.

I've used my new magnifying glass twice. Once to see the date on a penny. And once to look between the legs of a horse. More on that later. It's called FORESHADOWING, people!

Call the WAAAmbulance!

Saturday morning was not kind to Val.

I was preparing to shut down SHIBA and take a shower before heading to town. It's my daily routine. I closed the X on the last open window on SHIBA's screen, and was dragging the cursor down to the start menu to click SHUT DOWN. That's when my life changed forever.

SHIBA's screen went black.

Yes, in mid-drag, all of Shiba's icons disappeared. She made no sound. Not a whimper, not a click, not a "Goodbye, old friend."

I sent a text to The Pony. That's because Genius is conveniently in TAIWAN for a week. Left Friday, arrived Saturday afternoon our time. It's almost as if SHIBA was biding her time.

"SHIBA is unresponsive! Call the waaambulance!"

"I refuse to acknowledge that sentence."

"You are no comfort in my time of need. I fear we have lost her. At least she didn't burst into flames like all the laptops you've tried to kill. Aside from that last drowning incident..."

"Excuse me! The laptops never caught fire! The chargers did!"

"I mourn her already. She was only 10."

"Call the Technowizard!"

"The Technowizard is in Taiwan on a business trip.He's either launching a product, or giving a presentation on how it works. Just he and his boss went. I'm pretty sure SHIBA waited for him to leave the country before expiring."

"Oh wow! He's climbing the ranks!"

"But it won't bring my SHIBA back!!!"

"Just use New Delly."

"How dare you suggest that I decrease my electronic gewgaws by 50%! When Dad has a $17,000 Freight Container Garage with a car lift, it's only purpose apparently storing his hoard. Good day to you!"

"Yet Dad's hoard has made thousands of dollars so far! And it keeps him out of your hair!"

"I see. So I'm a freeloader, my only purpose to provide the connection that gets the three of us health insurance at a formidable price."

"I'm just commenting, mother dear! To deprive him of his hobbies would require you to deal with him more."

"I shall replace my SHIBA at a price much lower than a Freight Container Garage!"

"True, very true."

RIP, my sweet SHIBA. Seems like only 9 years, 364 days ago you became part of the family.

Hick Meets and Greets

There are few things on TV that impress Hick. Of course he likes the Storage Wars. And the American Pickers. That's a no-brainer. Shows about doing stuff he does. But there's another show he hates to miss. One that involves his fascination with Alaska. No, we're not talking about the Alaskan Bush People. Oh, he watches it. But he's not obsessed. Like with Alaska: The Last Frontier.

Lucky Hick found out that Atz Kilcher, one of the main dudes on that show, was going to appear close by. Really close by. Closer than our new favorite casino. Atz is Jewel's dad, you know. Jewel. The singer. Maybe that's trivia that some of you didn't know. I guess it means that Atz can sing okay. Or else he wouldn't be having a concert. Not that Hick cares about singing. It's the Alaska living that impresses him.

Anyhoo... I looked up the info, and Hick drove himself down there to get a ticket. He was vacillating (even though he doesn't know what that word means) about getting a ticket for the Meet and Greet at a local tavern. I pushed him into it. "When will you ever have a chance to meet him again? You'll regret it if you don't." It really didn't take much persuading. Besides, proceeds were going to a veteran's project. It was a win/win for all involved.

The event was yesterday. I commanded Hick to send me pictures. No dilly-dallying like with the Pickers. He dutifully responded.

I'm sure Atz got an earful during that 15 seconds.

Hick wasn't sure if a meal was included with his Meet and Greet ticket. I thought no, because the ad didn't mention it, and that's probably why that tavern was hosting...to make some money on the eats. However...looks like for the only time ever in the history of her world, Val was WRONG!

Hick had some chicken.

And some cheese bread. Hick said they had meatballs on sticks, also, but they were at the other end of the table, and he didn't get a picture. He ate two, though!

He also got his actual concert ticket, an autographed book, and a CD. Atz used to be a music teacher in Homer, Alaska. Did any of you know that? I, myself, did not. After the Meet and Greet, where Atz performed a few songs that he was not including in the actual concert, everyone moved to the concert venue.

Hick said that Atz usually wears a cowboy hat on the show, but he was wearing a baseball cap for the concert. And KNICKERS! That's Hick's word.

"What do you mean, knickers? Like football pants?"

"To his knees."

"Like...long shorts?"

"I don't know. Just to his knees."

"I guess 95 degrees is pretty hot for him after Alaska. He must be sweltering here."

Let the record show that Val has been to Alaska, and knows the whole state is not snow-and-ice covered. But having been there in August, with temps in the 50s, and seeing dudes jogging without shirts...I figure 95 degrees would feel pretty hot to them.

"Was Atz wearing a fanny pack???"

"Yeah. He always does, even on the show. I guess he keeps his stuff in there."

Not sure what stuff, and why (why, WHY???) the fanny pack. But maybe he had his guitar picks in there. Hick said the songs Atz performed were ones that he had written. And when I asked about the veteran thing, about which branch of the service Atz served in, Hick said the Army, in the Vietnam war, as a cook. Huh. The things you learn in person that they don't mention on the show.

That's not a lot of pictures, but considering how Hick usually takes them, I'd say he did okay!

A Lack of ConCENTration

Woe is Val. Now she's gone and done it! Deprived you of a PIC TO SHOW IT HAPPENED.

I know how you all love to browse through the photos of my found pennies. How you wait eagerly for Saturdays to arrive, perched on the edge of your (perhaps OP) chair, anticipating the roll-out of yet another gallery of Val's Future Pennyillionaire harvest.

I apologize. If I hadn't been so self-CENTered, you'd have had your picture. I stopped by the Original Waterside Mart on Thursday, because I was in that neighborhood, with the intention of cashing in a $10 winner for two more scratchers. I was halfway to the door when I realized I didn't have my phone in my pocket.

"Pshaw!" I thought. "I'm not going to find a penny. All week, I've been going back to T-Hoe for that forgotten phone, and I haven't seen a penny yet. It's almost as if that phone has been a penny-repellant this week." So on I went, into the store.

Two steps inside the door, there it was. On the floor in my path. I actually stepped over it.

"Should I pick it up?" I wondered, as I waited behind a dude filling out a money order. It's the second-of-the-month, you know. That happens. "I'll regret it if I let that penny lay. Or lie. I can't leave a penny behind. I'm taking it!"

Let the record show that I waited until my transaction was over, and the penny was still there waiting for me, face up, having been stepped over by at least three people in the interim.

I got you a consolation picture, though, once I got outside.

It was a 2007 version. Didn't even need my magnifying glass this time!

Speaking of magnifying glasses...we're not going to speak of them at this juncture. But there'll be something coming down the pike next week on that topic. This is called FORESHADOWING! You know. A subtle hint...
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HOLD THE PRESSES!
dateline 2.57 p.m.

Of course The Universe is chortling at Val's well-laid plans. After a kerfuffle and a hiccup in the procurement of my daily 44 oz Diet Coke, I forsook The Gas Station Chicken Store and headed for Orb K. Where I found 5 pennies!!!

I stepped over these two to get in line, my ample buttocks twitching with desire to bend over and flaunt themselves as I harvested this double crop. I debated whether to take a picture and pick them up. Or just take them after paying. While I was debating, I glanced off to my left and saw THIS:

Well. I surely couldn't let THREE pennies evade my clutches! I decided I would snatch them up on my way out. But WAIT! I glanced down to my right, and you guessed it, ANOTHER penny awaited!

I could only manage one close-up, due to a thundering herd of Polar Pop buyers. But what a close-up it was! As I bent down to harvest the first of my crop before giving up the counter space, I saw

A hidden BONUS PENNY, all camouflaged by its patina! I'm pretty sure this is a personal record: five pennies in one establishment. I got a 1996, 1975, 2010, 2017, and 1970. All but the 2010 were face down.

I had explained to the clerk (my favorite one in Orb K) that I was not a creeper, but that I collect found pennies, and I take a picture of them. She said, "Oh, no. That's fine!"

So sorry to disappoint the antipennyites who thought they were getting off easy this week.

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For 2018: Pennies  # 72,73, 74, 75 ,76, 77.
For 2018: Dimes still at  # 11, 12.
For 2018: Nickels still at # 4.

Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Dime # 17, 18.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this is still Nickel # 4.
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