Val's Weirdo Magnet is still fully functional. Which I discovered while sitting on the toilet in the women's restroom of Downstream Casino. When we last convened, I was fighting off unconsciousness from an ankle injury incurred by not picking up my old lady feet when I walked in there. As I sat, breathing in and out, not unlike a laboring first-time about-to-be mother... I sensed a person walk by the door and enter the stall on my right. Not a big deal, but out of all those stalls, why she chose that one, in the middle of the long aisle, which was not special or handicap, was beyooond me. I couldn't dwell on it, though. I had to fight off the waves of pain-nausea.
Imagine my surprise when Bathroom Buddy spoke.
"Is this yours?"
To my horror, I looked down at the tile floor below our partition, and saw a foot in a white leather sneaker pushing a PILL into my stall space. WHAT IN THE FREAKIN' NOT-HEAVEN???
"Um. Are you talking to ME?"
"Yes. Is this your pill?"
"No. That's not mine."
"Well, it's not mine."
"I didn't drop a pill."
"I didn't either."
"All I have are Tylenol in my pocket. They don't look like that. That's a rectangle." [Actually, I had an acetaminophen and an ibuprofen and an Equate brand Pepcid. But I wasn't sharing the contents of my pocket pharmaceuticals with some toilet stranger kicking a rectangular white pill at my feet.]
"Well, all I have is a [forgot the name of the drug she said, but it made me think of arthritis] that my doctor gives me. Just for emergencies."
"That's not mine. No."
"Where did it come from, then? I guess it could have been laying on the toilet paper holder when I sat down."
"I don't know. Not mine."
What does a Val have to do to get a little alone time to heal her debilitating ankle injury in a casino bathroom stall? I hoisted myself up and hobbled to the sink, putting as much distance between me and that weirdo as fast as my stove-up ankle would allow.
Seriously. Did she expect me to pick up that pill OFF THE FLOOR OF A PUBLIC RESTROOM? I don't care if it was it was oxycontin and I was a lifelong addict in the throes of withdrawal WITH a broken ankle! No way was I picking up that pill and putting it in my mouth. Well... maybe if I was an addict and I rinsed off the outer layer in the sink... But seriously. WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?
At least she seemed to be a benevolent weirdo, who would have spared a square of toilet paper if I'd needed one.
Friday, June 21, 2019
Thursday, June 20, 2019
A Staggering Walk Of Heart-Wrenching Inconvenience
Last Thursday and Friday, Hick and I met up with The Pony for CasinoPalooza 5. My sister the ex-mayor's wife and the ex-mayor also met us in northeastern Oklahoma, after a day visiting in the area of Pawhuska to see The Pioneer Woman's mercantile store, and tour a Frank Lloyd Wright museum. Nothing much exciting happened this trip. Not on the casino floor, anyway. Though I did have a couple of interesting bathroom encounters...
Friday night, I was having a really good time all by myself after everyone else went to bed. My gambling purse was full (well, full enough) of money that I'd brought for the specific purpose of possibly losing. The fun is in the trying. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Usually I win, then lose it back! I was going to stick around and play for a little while. I didn't ride five hours with ol' sweaving Hick to sleep for eight hours.
I stay up late anyway, you know, until 3:00 or 4:00 most nights. The crowd had thinned out in the casino, and I could get on most slots that I wanted to play. I had to stop every couple hours for a bathroom break. Around 1:30, I decided to go to the restrooms up front, rather than encounter the non-working workers at the one along the back wall again. They gave me the stinkeye when I was in there earlier. Like once they clean, nobody should sully their immaculate toilet seats, EVER.
The front-wall restrooms at Downstream Casino are like a big corridor. You can go in either end, walk down the long row of stalls on each wall, and out the door at the other end. The handicap stalls are in the middle of the rows. I need those handrails to get up, you know. I don't want the giant stalls with room for a walker or wheelchair. Just the rails. That's where I was headed.
In fact, I was almost there, walking down the tile aisle, when it happened. My left foot caught on the tile. I guess I had really grippy soles after coming off the casino carpet. Or the cleaning crew had done an excellent mopping job. Let the record show that I've had problems with my left ankle ever since Genius herded us over blacktop hill and dale taking college graduation pictures two years ago. Had I known of the impending workout, I would have worn my driveway-walking shoes, with more cushioning and support. I self-diagnosed it as Posterior Tibial Tendinitis. It hurts me off and on. This night, it was hurting from all the walking we'd done in 7 casinos.
Anyhoo... I was reaching out to the handle to open a stall door when it happened. DANG! It hurt so bad! That jarring shock as my foot stopped, but my ankle and leg kept going! I nearly fell. I grabbed that stall handle like my life depended on it. Somebody was in there! I bet I scared her half to death! I put my hand on the next stall door to steady myself. The pain was radiating in waves, in the arch and inner side of my ankle. Pain so bad that I felt like I might vomit. Or black out. Terrible pain.
I hobbled across the aisle to another of those railed handicap stalls, and eased myself onto the toilet. What a predicament. I was at the opposite corner of the large casino from the exit to the elevator area to get up to my room. Everyone else was sleeping. I didn't know if I could walk back to the room! I know. Val People Problems.
After about five minutes to regain my composure, I hoisted myself up by the double rails. I would have sat there longer, trying to recuperate, but another incident happened, which you will learn about tomorrow. I left the stall and hobbled along the tile. My ankle didn't want to work right. It was like a Frankenstein foot, not bending as I took a step. Like a peg leg to balance on while hopping my right leg forward. Did I mention that I have trouble with the knee of my right leg? It's the one that hasn't been operated on twice. So I was ambulating on a bad left ankle, and a bad right knee. I'm pretty sure people thought I was faking to justify using that handicap stall. It's not like I had a walker or a scooter or a blue handicap placard around my neck.
Whew! I was breaking out in a cold sweat. I washed my hands and took time drying them. Hobbled out the door that put me in the middle of the front wall of that casino. Have you ever noticed that casinos don't have straight walkways? They want you to weave in and out around slots and table games, perhaps getting an urge to gamble. Sheesh! I grabbed the back of every empty chair I passed, to steady myself. Okay. I saw a machine I wanted to play. I could sit down for a few minutes and rest. The guy at the one next to it gave me a long stare. EFF HIM! I plopped down and put my money in. Only I didn't. It would take any bills! It was broken! Or full of money. So I had to continue on my journey of 10,000 miles back to my room.
I'm pretty sure more than one member of the security staff was watching me. They probably thought I was staggering drunk. You're always on camera in a casino. Did you know that? I could imagine them following my progress, unless they nodded off from boredom. I had to stop at many machines to rest.
Between the ankle and the knee, I didn't know which leg to favor in my limp. I was like George Costanza at Play Now, but without a cane. If I had one, I never would have used it to trip anyone!
It was a little after 3:00 a.m. when I started my final trek to the casino exit. I stopped at the cash-out machine. Nodded to the man standing at a podium at the entrance/exit. Hobbled to the gift shop and stopped to peer though the windows. Mainly to rest. Then on to the elevators, and up to the 6th floor. Still on camera, of course, as I went through the corridor maze to my room.
I figure I wasted about an hour of valuable gambling time with all that slow-walking.
Friday night, I was having a really good time all by myself after everyone else went to bed. My gambling purse was full (well, full enough) of money that I'd brought for the specific purpose of possibly losing. The fun is in the trying. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Usually I win, then lose it back! I was going to stick around and play for a little while. I didn't ride five hours with ol' sweaving Hick to sleep for eight hours.
I stay up late anyway, you know, until 3:00 or 4:00 most nights. The crowd had thinned out in the casino, and I could get on most slots that I wanted to play. I had to stop every couple hours for a bathroom break. Around 1:30, I decided to go to the restrooms up front, rather than encounter the non-working workers at the one along the back wall again. They gave me the stinkeye when I was in there earlier. Like once they clean, nobody should sully their immaculate toilet seats, EVER.
The front-wall restrooms at Downstream Casino are like a big corridor. You can go in either end, walk down the long row of stalls on each wall, and out the door at the other end. The handicap stalls are in the middle of the rows. I need those handrails to get up, you know. I don't want the giant stalls with room for a walker or wheelchair. Just the rails. That's where I was headed.
In fact, I was almost there, walking down the tile aisle, when it happened. My left foot caught on the tile. I guess I had really grippy soles after coming off the casino carpet. Or the cleaning crew had done an excellent mopping job. Let the record show that I've had problems with my left ankle ever since Genius herded us over blacktop hill and dale taking college graduation pictures two years ago. Had I known of the impending workout, I would have worn my driveway-walking shoes, with more cushioning and support. I self-diagnosed it as Posterior Tibial Tendinitis. It hurts me off and on. This night, it was hurting from all the walking we'd done in 7 casinos.
Anyhoo... I was reaching out to the handle to open a stall door when it happened. DANG! It hurt so bad! That jarring shock as my foot stopped, but my ankle and leg kept going! I nearly fell. I grabbed that stall handle like my life depended on it. Somebody was in there! I bet I scared her half to death! I put my hand on the next stall door to steady myself. The pain was radiating in waves, in the arch and inner side of my ankle. Pain so bad that I felt like I might vomit. Or black out. Terrible pain.
I hobbled across the aisle to another of those railed handicap stalls, and eased myself onto the toilet. What a predicament. I was at the opposite corner of the large casino from the exit to the elevator area to get up to my room. Everyone else was sleeping. I didn't know if I could walk back to the room! I know. Val People Problems.
After about five minutes to regain my composure, I hoisted myself up by the double rails. I would have sat there longer, trying to recuperate, but another incident happened, which you will learn about tomorrow. I left the stall and hobbled along the tile. My ankle didn't want to work right. It was like a Frankenstein foot, not bending as I took a step. Like a peg leg to balance on while hopping my right leg forward. Did I mention that I have trouble with the knee of my right leg? It's the one that hasn't been operated on twice. So I was ambulating on a bad left ankle, and a bad right knee. I'm pretty sure people thought I was faking to justify using that handicap stall. It's not like I had a walker or a scooter or a blue handicap placard around my neck.
Whew! I was breaking out in a cold sweat. I washed my hands and took time drying them. Hobbled out the door that put me in the middle of the front wall of that casino. Have you ever noticed that casinos don't have straight walkways? They want you to weave in and out around slots and table games, perhaps getting an urge to gamble. Sheesh! I grabbed the back of every empty chair I passed, to steady myself. Okay. I saw a machine I wanted to play. I could sit down for a few minutes and rest. The guy at the one next to it gave me a long stare. EFF HIM! I plopped down and put my money in. Only I didn't. It would take any bills! It was broken! Or full of money. So I had to continue on my journey of 10,000 miles back to my room.
I'm pretty sure more than one member of the security staff was watching me. They probably thought I was staggering drunk. You're always on camera in a casino. Did you know that? I could imagine them following my progress, unless they nodded off from boredom. I had to stop at many machines to rest.
Between the ankle and the knee, I didn't know which leg to favor in my limp. I was like George Costanza at Play Now, but without a cane. If I had one, I never would have used it to trip anyone!
It was a little after 3:00 a.m. when I started my final trek to the casino exit. I stopped at the cash-out machine. Nodded to the man standing at a podium at the entrance/exit. Hobbled to the gift shop and stopped to peer though the windows. Mainly to rest. Then on to the elevators, and up to the 6th floor. Still on camera, of course, as I went through the corridor maze to my room.
I figure I wasted about an hour of valuable gambling time with all that slow-walking.
Wednesday, June 19, 2019
Seriously! A Camera Crew For Hick!
There's never a dull moment in Hick's daily travels. Whether it be a dude shooting off Hick's for-sale taser at his Storage Unit Store, or the police arriving to
subdue an irate woman at the pawn shop. Hick leads a selectively charmed life. He can't win on a scratcher ticket, but aside from that, he must have pockets stuffed with four-leaf clovers. Not only does he have me waiting at home (!), he has good luck following him like that cloud of dirt around Charlie Brown's buddy Pigpen.
I got a text from Hick yesterday afternoon at 12:37...
"You won't believe what I just got for free. Casey's was putting new trash cans out. I got all six of their old trash cans."
"Wow! Treasures fall into your lap! Send a picture."
"Yeah. I was getting lawnmower gas and I seen the guy rolling it out. I said, 'Unless you're getting their cans, how can I have the old ones?' He said, 'Let me ask the manager.' He come back out and said, 'They're free.' I got four of these, and two round ones."
"What are you going to do with them?"
"I don't know yet."
"Are you giving one to HOS? So he has a trash can at the $5000 house?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
At 12:51, a mere 15 minutes later... I got another text from Hick:
"I just called in on the radio and won two tickets for the rodeo this weekend."
"More treasures. Big lap. Maybe something else will fall into it."
Let the record show that last Monday, Hick called in on the radio, and won a flag for Flag Day. A couple years ago, he somehow won 3 Thanksgiving turkeys, from a raffle, a radio call-in, and a method I can't remember.
His Casey's trash cans will be a good addition to the giant Save A Lot sight he used for a wall on the lean-to of his BARn. They were putting up a new sign a few years back, and Hick asked if he could have the old one. Of course they gave it to him. For free.
He might need to build another shed.
I got a text from Hick yesterday afternoon at 12:37...
"You won't believe what I just got for free. Casey's was putting new trash cans out. I got all six of their old trash cans."
"Wow! Treasures fall into your lap! Send a picture."
"What are you going to do with them?"
"I don't know yet."
"Are you giving one to HOS? So he has a trash can at the $5000 house?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
At 12:51, a mere 15 minutes later... I got another text from Hick:
"I just called in on the radio and won two tickets for the rodeo this weekend."
"More treasures. Big lap. Maybe something else will fall into it."
Let the record show that last Monday, Hick called in on the radio, and won a flag for Flag Day. A couple years ago, he somehow won 3 Thanksgiving turkeys, from a raffle, a radio call-in, and a method I can't remember.
His Casey's trash cans will be a good addition to the giant Save A Lot sight he used for a wall on the lean-to of his BARn. They were putting up a new sign a few years back, and Hick asked if he could have the old one. Of course they gave it to him. For free.
He might need to build another shed.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
Hick Needs a Camera Crew to Follow Him Around
More excitement from the world of Hick. Without the Hick House project to keep him off the streets, he might end up on the local news. Monday morning, his first real day of not-working on Hick House, he home at 8:00 as usual. Also as usual, he did not account for his whereabouts. Except for a visit to the pawn shop.
"I went by the pawn shop to buy two guns. I have a guy looking for a .22 for his kid. They had one at the pawn shop that I offered them $85 for last week, cash money, no tax, carry it out the door. They didn't take my offer. But today I went in there, and it was marked $75. So I bought it. I can sell it to that guy for $85 or $90."
"OR you could tell that guy where he can buy it for $75."
"I'm not gonna do that! I have to make some money off of it. Anyway, I was standing at the counter talking about the other gun, and this lady come in. She said, 'I want to know when you sold my guitar and amp!' The guy said, 'I can look it up for you.' She wasn't listening, though. She was hot! She said, 'I had until June to pay on it! I came in to ask, and that's what I was told! Now you've stole it from me!'"
"Well. This is June 17. So I guess she should have paid on June 1?"
"I don't know. She kept getting louder and louder. Yelling that she pawned her guitar and amp to buy candy for her grandkids, and now she wanted them back, but they were sold before she could get them back. She was really making a scene. The guy was polite. He said, 'Ma'am, if you give me your paperwork, I'll look it up for you.' She said her husband threw away her paperwork. The guy found it somehow, and said, 'You brought in the guitar and amp in April. And you haven't been back since, according to our records.' The lady kept hollering that she had until June to make a payment. The guy said she'd need to calm down, or he would call the police."
"Was everybody cutting their eyes and raising their eyebrows?"
"Pretty much. That lady was going nuts. So the guy called the police. The police came in and told her to sit outside. He got the story from the pawn shop guy, then went to talk to the lady. I was walking by with my two guns and heard the police tell her that he wasn't there to do anything about her amp. Only to make sure she stopped making a disturbance. She started in that she wanted her wedding rings back. So the cop said he'd walk her in so she could do that. She was hollering that she was going to call Channel 2 news and complain."
"Oh, well. The longer she talks, the more her case kind of falls apart."
"Yeah. Seems like it."
Never a dull moment when Hick is out on the town with a gun in each hand.
"I went by the pawn shop to buy two guns. I have a guy looking for a .22 for his kid. They had one at the pawn shop that I offered them $85 for last week, cash money, no tax, carry it out the door. They didn't take my offer. But today I went in there, and it was marked $75. So I bought it. I can sell it to that guy for $85 or $90."
"OR you could tell that guy where he can buy it for $75."
"I'm not gonna do that! I have to make some money off of it. Anyway, I was standing at the counter talking about the other gun, and this lady come in. She said, 'I want to know when you sold my guitar and amp!' The guy said, 'I can look it up for you.' She wasn't listening, though. She was hot! She said, 'I had until June to pay on it! I came in to ask, and that's what I was told! Now you've stole it from me!'"
"Well. This is June 17. So I guess she should have paid on June 1?"
"I don't know. She kept getting louder and louder. Yelling that she pawned her guitar and amp to buy candy for her grandkids, and now she wanted them back, but they were sold before she could get them back. She was really making a scene. The guy was polite. He said, 'Ma'am, if you give me your paperwork, I'll look it up for you.' She said her husband threw away her paperwork. The guy found it somehow, and said, 'You brought in the guitar and amp in April. And you haven't been back since, according to our records.' The lady kept hollering that she had until June to make a payment. The guy said she'd need to calm down, or he would call the police."
"Was everybody cutting their eyes and raising their eyebrows?"
"Pretty much. That lady was going nuts. So the guy called the police. The police came in and told her to sit outside. He got the story from the pawn shop guy, then went to talk to the lady. I was walking by with my two guns and heard the police tell her that he wasn't there to do anything about her amp. Only to make sure she stopped making a disturbance. She started in that she wanted her wedding rings back. So the cop said he'd walk her in so she could do that. She was hollering that she was going to call Channel 2 news and complain."
"Oh, well. The longer she talks, the more her case kind of falls apart."
"Yeah. Seems like it."
Never a dull moment when Hick is out on the town with a gun in each hand.
Monday, June 17, 2019
Another Pony Tale
In case you didn't notice, we've been out of town for a few days. The rivers finally receded enough for The Pony to cross eastern Oklahoma and join us for CasinoPalooza 5! The only winner was my sister the ex-mayor's wife, who returned $25 richer than she left. So now you don't have to sit on the edge of your (perhaps broke-armed rolly) chair in suspense. I lost 12.727272 percent of my casino bankroll. So I'm not broke.
Anyhoo... The Pony left Saturday morning, eschewing the breakfast buffet. He ordered off the menu anyway on Friday. It took 30 minutes to get his French toast. He should have known better. Last time it also took an eon to get his chocolate chip pancakes. He might have snacked on some boxed Famous Amos cookies in the car during the drive. Or not. Because he stopped for lunch at McDonald's a half hour from home.
Sunday morning, I sent him a text to call Hick for Father's Day. In typical Pony fashion, he'd brought a card along on the trip, and forgot to give it to Hick before leaving. I didn't want him to forget a phone call as well. Hick had already heard from Genius, The Veteran, HOS, and his former stepson he raised until the age of 11.
Anyhoo... The Pony sent me a picture.
"Something weird happened. The shades in my living room were fully open when I went to bed. Now a patch of five of them are closed, and the rest are open."
"The entity missed you. Welcome home!"
Huh. The only time I've noticed our shades do that is when somebody walks by and bumps them. Or touches them while peering out. I've given up trying to explain some of the happenings here and there, using the official laws of physics.
Funny how none of this stuff happens at Genius's apartment.
Anyhoo... The Pony left Saturday morning, eschewing the breakfast buffet. He ordered off the menu anyway on Friday. It took 30 minutes to get his French toast. He should have known better. Last time it also took an eon to get his chocolate chip pancakes. He might have snacked on some boxed Famous Amos cookies in the car during the drive. Or not. Because he stopped for lunch at McDonald's a half hour from home.
Sunday morning, I sent him a text to call Hick for Father's Day. In typical Pony fashion, he'd brought a card along on the trip, and forgot to give it to Hick before leaving. I didn't want him to forget a phone call as well. Hick had already heard from Genius, The Veteran, HOS, and his former stepson he raised until the age of 11.
Anyhoo... The Pony sent me a picture.
"Something weird happened. The shades in my living room were fully open when I went to bed. Now a patch of five of them are closed, and the rest are open."
"The entity missed you. Welcome home!"
Huh. The only time I've noticed our shades do that is when somebody walks by and bumps them. Or touches them while peering out. I've given up trying to explain some of the happenings here and there, using the official laws of physics.
Funny how none of this stuff happens at Genius's apartment.
Sunday, June 16, 2019
Backroads Gothic
Hick put the camper on Swap N Shop last Wednesday. The one currently in our front yard, that he’s asking
$10,900 for, not the fifth wheel camper my mom gave us, in which toddler Genius got lodged between the mattress and the wall overnight. Unless that was The Pony. I
might be confusing the time we lost Genius as an infant, between our
mattress and headboard, in the master bedroom of the $17,000 house.
Anyhoo… Hick had a response within the hour. Somebody called for more information, and said they'd like to look at the camper. A guy and his wife drove from a town on the banks of the Mississippi, about 45 minutes away, to look at it. Hick figured they were serious, not just lookers, to be coming all that way. Like they must have the money to actually buy, if they liked it.
I was at Walmart when Hick called and told me. I wasn't exactly thrilled. Sure, I'd like to sell the camper and get back our investment in Hick House. But Hick should have put that camper up on the Storage Unit Store lot a month ago. He's wasted valuable time in getting it out to the public. Of course it's his fault that we had so many rainy days that precluded the pulling of the camper out of our front yard.
Anyhoo... on the way home, I turned onto our county blacktop road, and saw the prospective buyers coming out. I just knew it was them. An old man and old woman in a red Jeep SUV of some kind. They both had stern looks on their faces. Like American Gothic, without the pitchfork. I asked Hick how the tour went, and if they were in a red car.
“Yeah. Red car.”
“I passed them. They both had a stern look.”
“I KNOW! I couldn’t read them at all. I met them on the storage unit parking lot, and the guy rolled down his window, and said, ‘I’ll follow you.’ Real gruff. He acted mad. They both walked around the camper, and said it looked in good shape. They said, ‘We’ll probably get a new mattress.’ I agreed. I told them we’d talked about that, but people would probably want to buy their own, to make sure it’s new. Even if we'd replaced it. The old man said they had another camper to look at, and that he’d call me.”
“That might just be his way of getting out of here, not wanting it.”
“We’ll see. Other people might want it. I’m not holding it for them.”
As of now, a week and a half later, they haven’t called back, so I guess they don’t want it. Hick said he might call the radio every day and list it. Don’t cost nothin’, as John Belushi says in Animal House.
Anyhoo… Hick had a response within the hour. Somebody called for more information, and said they'd like to look at the camper. A guy and his wife drove from a town on the banks of the Mississippi, about 45 minutes away, to look at it. Hick figured they were serious, not just lookers, to be coming all that way. Like they must have the money to actually buy, if they liked it.
I was at Walmart when Hick called and told me. I wasn't exactly thrilled. Sure, I'd like to sell the camper and get back our investment in Hick House. But Hick should have put that camper up on the Storage Unit Store lot a month ago. He's wasted valuable time in getting it out to the public. Of course it's his fault that we had so many rainy days that precluded the pulling of the camper out of our front yard.
Anyhoo... on the way home, I turned onto our county blacktop road, and saw the prospective buyers coming out. I just knew it was them. An old man and old woman in a red Jeep SUV of some kind. They both had stern looks on their faces. Like American Gothic, without the pitchfork. I asked Hick how the tour went, and if they were in a red car.
“Yeah. Red car.”
“I passed them. They both had a stern look.”
“I KNOW! I couldn’t read them at all. I met them on the storage unit parking lot, and the guy rolled down his window, and said, ‘I’ll follow you.’ Real gruff. He acted mad. They both walked around the camper, and said it looked in good shape. They said, ‘We’ll probably get a new mattress.’ I agreed. I told them we’d talked about that, but people would probably want to buy their own, to make sure it’s new. Even if we'd replaced it. The old man said they had another camper to look at, and that he’d call me.”
“That might just be his way of getting out of here, not wanting it.”
“We’ll see. Other people might want it. I’m not holding it for them.”
As of now, a week and a half later, they haven’t called back, so I guess they don’t want it. Hick said he might call the radio every day and list it. Don’t cost nothin’, as John Belushi says in Animal House.
Saturday, June 15, 2019
It Makes CENTS, I Guess, for Me Unloading On a Helper
Unless I find some coinage while on CasinoPalooza 5, I've been SHUT OUT for the second consecutive week in my quest to become a Future Pennyillionaire!
No wonder Even Steven is withholding my pennies. I'm still feeling like a Scrooge from that incident last week when my former student materialized out of hot parking lot air to start lifting my Walmart groceries into T-Hoe's rear. I'd spoken to him on the way in, and nodded at him on the way out. Nothing to indicate that he should change his course and, completely unsolicited, start manhandling my purchases!
I'm funny like that. I don't like people touching my groceries. What I buy is none of their beeswax. It's personal. I'm not ashamed of eating deli fried chicken, and drinking bottled Diet Coke. There was nothing awkward in the cart, like feminine hygiene products, or Depends. I'm just an old Val, set in her ways, who even gets annoyed when Hick tries to "help" me.
I have a place for everything, and put everything in its place. The soda goes near the bumper, on the far right side. Heavy things like cans and jars next to them, to keep the bottles from tipping. Paper towels and TP and trash bags and Puffs Plus Lotion (3-pack) go behind the soda. Cold stuff, that won't fit in my soft-side Cardinals zip-top cooler on the far left side, go next to the cooler. Then I drape my purple winter coat over them. Bread and chips go on top of the coat. I didn't buy all these things on this day, but I DO have a system!
At least Student could have ASKED me if I wanted help. I would have politely declined. But he'd already picked up two bags, and I didn't even know what was in them! He'd set them on top of my winter coat!
I tried to be civil. As polite as when I was in the classroom, and it was required of me. I told him thanks, but I was kind of particular about my stuff. So he said, “Well, tell me where you want it.”
Well, I didn't even remember what was in those bags. That's okay. I opened the tops of a couple other bags, and told him where to set one. I took the other, holding my deli fried chicken, and carried it to the passenger seat behind T-Hoe. In my discombobulation, I forgot to take it out of the plastic bag to breathe. So my supper chicken was soggy!
I let Student put the bags in the back, and as soon as I thanked him and got rid of him, I completely rearranged everything. Good thing I'm not still teaching. By first bell the next day, every student in the school would have known what I bought. Which means that we would have had to discuss it in every class. They are masters at going off-topic.
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny still at 68.
Dime still at 8.
Nickel still at 7.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
No wonder Even Steven is withholding my pennies. I'm still feeling like a Scrooge from that incident last week when my former student materialized out of hot parking lot air to start lifting my Walmart groceries into T-Hoe's rear. I'd spoken to him on the way in, and nodded at him on the way out. Nothing to indicate that he should change his course and, completely unsolicited, start manhandling my purchases!
I'm funny like that. I don't like people touching my groceries. What I buy is none of their beeswax. It's personal. I'm not ashamed of eating deli fried chicken, and drinking bottled Diet Coke. There was nothing awkward in the cart, like feminine hygiene products, or Depends. I'm just an old Val, set in her ways, who even gets annoyed when Hick tries to "help" me.
I have a place for everything, and put everything in its place. The soda goes near the bumper, on the far right side. Heavy things like cans and jars next to them, to keep the bottles from tipping. Paper towels and TP and trash bags and Puffs Plus Lotion (3-pack) go behind the soda. Cold stuff, that won't fit in my soft-side Cardinals zip-top cooler on the far left side, go next to the cooler. Then I drape my purple winter coat over them. Bread and chips go on top of the coat. I didn't buy all these things on this day, but I DO have a system!
At least Student could have ASKED me if I wanted help. I would have politely declined. But he'd already picked up two bags, and I didn't even know what was in them! He'd set them on top of my winter coat!
I tried to be civil. As polite as when I was in the classroom, and it was required of me. I told him thanks, but I was kind of particular about my stuff. So he said, “Well, tell me where you want it.”
Well, I didn't even remember what was in those bags. That's okay. I opened the tops of a couple other bags, and told him where to set one. I took the other, holding my deli fried chicken, and carried it to the passenger seat behind T-Hoe. In my discombobulation, I forgot to take it out of the plastic bag to breathe. So my supper chicken was soggy!
I let Student put the bags in the back, and as soon as I thanked him and got rid of him, I completely rearranged everything. Good thing I'm not still teaching. By first bell the next day, every student in the school would have known what I bought. Which means that we would have had to discuss it in every class. They are masters at going off-topic.
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny still at 68.
Dime still at 8.
Nickel still at 7.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
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