Thursday, March 28, 2024

Whose Job Is It, Anyway?

As long as there are clerks in convenience stores, Mrs. HM will never run out of things to complain write about!

Wednesday, I went in the Liquor Store for scratchers. I had a $77 winner in my hand. As usual, I stepped up to the counter. No other customers in view. The clerk was the little guy who always wears his hoody up. He's nice enough, though a bit disinterested in the whole "work" concept. I still slip a dollar into his tip jar when it's out, because he is polite enough.

This time, as I stepped to the counter, he stepped sideways behind the register. Off to my right. I thought he was on the phone. I could hear talking. Thought he was mumbling a response. I couldn't see if he was holding a phone under his hood. 

I perused the lottery tickets, whose display now sits on the floor, due to a wall of see-through little cubes that hold assorted vapes. Kind of like a giant shadow box. I had my winner laying on the counter. I knew the new tickets I wanted. If only that clerk would get off the phone! I tried to be polite. Gave him a glance. He turned away. I stood facing the counter. Looked at stuff sitting there. No tip jar out this time.

A couple of other customers came in, clanging the cow bell attached to the door as I had when I entered. They wandered around the liquor area. I kept waiting. I'm never in a hurry. I just wondered when the clerk would be done with his call, which I assumed to be about something he needed for the store. He wasn't saying much.

Then the clerk said, "Can I get you something?"

What in the NOT-HEAVEN! He wasn't on the phone at all! He'd just been standing there, not saying anything. I guess what I heard was the person waiting on the drive-thru customers behind the shelf that divides that window from the counter.

Sweet Gummi Mary! That could have gone on all day, if those other customers hadn't come in!

"Yes. I want to cash in this $77 winner."

"Do you just want cash back?"

"No. I'm going to get some tickets."

I said the numbers of my tickets, giving him time to rip them off the roll before mentioning the next one. Because of getting two of the $3 tickets, I had a dollar coming back with my change.

NO DOLLAR FOR YOU!

Am I wrong to think it's the "job" of the clerk to greet a customer by asking how he can help them? At least saying, "What can I getcha?" Maybe just a grunt to acknowledge a customer's presence! Why else would a customer stand at the counter holding a scratcher for five minutes? I was actually to the point of walking out without getting anything, it was taking so long.

I was a bit annoyed. He even gave me the WRONG ticket! One that was next to the one I had asked for. I usually don't complain about such a mistake, because you never know if it might be The Universe's way of giving me an unintended winner.

The Universe and the clerk must have had a good laugh over it being a loser.

Wednesday, March 27, 2024

Why Mrs. HM Cheats

Here's another example of why Mrs. HM cheats. Parks T-Hoe farther to the right side of a parking space rather than in the center. Especially if there's a nice roomy striped section between her car and the space to her right, big enough to park a whole car.


This was at 10Box on Sunday. I was just running in for my lottery tickets out of the machine. I'm in a handicap space with my placard dangling from the mirror. You can see how I parked with plenty of space on the left side of my parking slot. No car was there at the time I parked, but from experience, I know they don't always stay within the lines.

This little van/SUV hybrid is within its lines. Not really doing anything wrong that should irritate Mrs. HM. But if I had parked in the dead center of my space, or as close to the line as that hybrid, I never would have gotten my door open all the way. I'd have needed to wait until that hybrid left, so I could climb into T-Hoe and get my knees bent far enough to get my legs into the car. Looks like that hybrid might have been parking close to the line before.  I think that's a big scratch on the side.

Anyhoo... I don't care if people think I'm an idiot for parking like this. At least I could get right into T-Hoe and leave when I came out of the store, and I wasn't impeding anybody on my right side.

Tuesday, March 26, 2024

She Couldn't Buy A Clue, Or Even Accept The One Handed To Her

Welp! Monday I saw a rare sight. Rarer than a unicorn, though not as aesthetically pleasing. It was a young gal who could not use technology!

I was in the School-Turn Casey's, waiting to buy scratchers. Young Gal looked about 14 years old. She had a canned beverage on the counter, with the flip top open. I didn't recognize the can. Not a soda. Maybe some kind of iced tea or energy drink. Young Gal was trying to pay with a card.

She put it in the card reader, but it didn't work. Three times. The clerk asked if she had the TAP feature. She didn't know what he was talking about. He took the card, looked it over, then touched it to the reader. 

"There. You have it. Now try."

Young Gal messed around with the keypad. Still didn't work.

"Maybe another code?" The clerk was very patient with her, trying to help. 

Young Gal just looked at him. Did something with her phone. I thought maybe she had an app that could help her. Then she went back to trying to shove the card into the card reader again.

Sweet Gummi Mary! I was not in a hurry, but I was tired of standing there watching this exercise in futility. Doing the same wrong thing over and over was not going to solve her problem. I swear, if I'd had my wad of one-dollar bills in my pocket, I would have paid for her. It cost less than two dollars. But I only had twenties, and was not going to break one to pay her bill. My generosity does have its limits.

Finally an Older Gal came charging through the door. She was probably the big sister, judging from her age. She grabbed the card, jammed it into the card reader, punched a couple keys, and the transaction was done. I guess Young Gal had sent her a text when fiddling with her phone.

"SEE? What was so hard about that?"

Older Gal turned on her heel and left, while Young Gal picked up her drink and thanked the clerk.

What ever happened to using CASH???

Monday, March 25, 2024

A Leftover Farmer H Will Eat

Last week I made chicken pot pie. It used up some boneless skinless chicken breasts in FRIG II's freezer. Okay, they were a couple months past the USE BY date. But still good. They had been frozen the whole time! I boiled them because it was the easiest way to cook them before dicing to put in the chicken pot pie. It's pretty simple to make, using store-bought pie crust for the top.

I coated my very old 9 x 13 glass baking dish with butter. Margarine, actually. I'm not going waste that (worth its weight in) Kerrygold greasing a pan. Then I mixed the innards in a couple of large plastic bowls, so I had room for stirring.

1 bag frozen hash brown cubes (thawed)
2 bags frozen peas/carrots (thawed)
1 can cream of chicken soup
16 oz sour cream
1 large onion (diced)
2 tablespoons minced garlic
a couple shakes of garlic salt
ground black pepper

I baked it for however long the store-bought crust said, after rolling the room-temperature crust over the top of the dish. I think it was 450 or 425, for maybe 30 to 40 minutes. Can't remember, I just followed the instructions on the crust package. I DO know that I baked it for about 5 minutes, then covered it with foil, which I removed for the last 10 minutes. The extra crust I trimmed off was used in pieces on top of the crust. I made sure to poke many holes to allow for the contents to let off steam and bubble up.

Gotta toot my own horn and say that this chicken pot pie was DELICIOUS!


We had four nights worth of supper from it. Farmer H was not complaining.


When re-warming, I took off the crust, and put in on foil in the oven to try and regain the crispiness. It only works on the edges. But still, better than microwaving with the innards. It might look dry here, but was just right. Not runny, but still moist.

Mmm... I want to make another one already. More truthfully, I want to EAT another one already.

Sunday, March 24, 2024

Just When The Universe Saves You From A Crackhead Mugger, It Sends A Burly Thug In Her Place

Three days after I dodged the Crackhead Mugger at Country Mart, I was presented with a new parking lot challenge at the Casey's. Coincidentally, both incidents occurred over in Sis-Town, home of my sister the ex-mayor's wife, and now The Pony. Maybe I should warn them to be extra-aware of the company they don't want to keep!

I had to park T-Hoe at Pump 3 on Thursday, because as I was turning in, a lady in a Jeep usurped Pump 4, my rightful gas pump. Not a big deal. Pump 3 is only a few more steps farther from the concrete handicap ramp onto the sidewalk in front of the store. I went in to pre-pay for gas, and get my scratchers. It was a sunny, windy day. Not too bad for hobbling back to T-Hoe to pump.

I'm always in a hurry to get from counter to gas pump, because one time I made the mistake of taking a bathroom break first, and by the time I got to the pump, my payment had expired. I had to walk all the way back in and get it reset. So now I don't dilly-dally, but make a beeline from cash register to pump. Well, as much of a beeline as I can, what with having to walk to the ramp and then across to T-Hoe, rather than stepping off the curb and going in a straight line rather than a right angle.

Anyhoo... as I neared the ramp, I saw a burly man in his 40s standing there. Not up against the building, not near a car. Just standing on the sidewalk by the ramp. He wasn't the raggedy man I used to give my change to, or the weirdo on the bicycle who likes to talk. I was a bit leery of his presence, but hey, it's a free country. A burly man can stand where he likes. I'm not the sidewalk police.

I went down the ramp and was startled when Burly Man started walking behind me. I don't like that. I don't even like it when my nutso dog Scarlett does than. I wondered why Burly Man would do this. I didn't have my purse, just my cash and debit card in my shirt pocket, unseen. And some scratchers gripped in my left hand. What if Burly Man wanted to snatch my scratchers! NOOOO! I kept them in my left hand, as he was angling to my right. The Jeep lady was gone from Pump 4, so nobody was nearby to intercede on my behalf if I needed it.

My heart was pounding. I bumbled along. Of all the times for the pumps not to be busy, and no traffic about to run me over! I was across the driving lane, and at T-Hoe's bumper. Burly Man had slowly passed me, and was standing at Pump 4! What in the NOT-HEAVEN??? Why was a Burly Man without a vehicle or gas can standing at a gas pump just a few feet away from me?

Wait! Here came a truck along the driving lane. Maybe that driver would help me. In fact, he was pulling right into Pump 4, with a trailer holding a Bobcat. The versatile mechanical vehicle, not the animal. 

Truck Driver greeted Burly Man! In fact, he left Burly Man putting gas in the Bobcat, while he took his young daughter inside Casey's.

Another Mrs. HM mugging narrowly avoided!

Saturday, March 23, 2024

The Bull Barges Into The China Shop

Friday evening, Farmer H announced his plans to have a bath in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom. Fine with me. It meant I could get started on my scratchers before starting supper. I made Farmer H a Wild Turkey and Diet Shasta Cola as he requested. I handed it off to him in his recliner as I went to change out of my town clothes and leave the bathroom to him for his soaking time.

Of course Farmer H continued to sit on his rumpus in the recliner for another 10 minutes. Not that I cared, but he was planning to watch a show at 6:00, and it was already 5:25. Running the bath water takes about 15 minutes. Still, not my monkey, not my circus. It was Farmer H's own fault he would miss a special about Dolly Parton starting at 6:00, because he couldn't tear himself away from a 70-year-old Gunsmoke rerun that he'd probably seen five times already.

Anyhoo... I was still putting away some groceries when Farmer H went to run his bath water. He usually gets in and waits for it to fill up to the desired level. Especially when he has a drink to sip. 

My cell phone rang, but said it was likely a scam. I let it go to voice mail. I had just opened that app when here came Farmer H! Of course spouting off about something. I was trying to hear my message. I shushed him, which of course made him talk more. THEN he opened FRIG II and started rummaging. 

I had flat-out asked if he wanted a snack with his drink, and he'd said no. So I can only assume he was digging for that shot he takes every week, jabbing himself in the thigh. It sounded like he was taking out all the crisper drawers and whacking them together. I don't know how one man can make so much noise!

I didn't even turn around, because I'd taken my phone off the charger to hold up to my ear and try to listen. The best I can tell, it was a political call listing candidates and asking who I was likely to vote for. I'd never heard of any of them. The area code for that number was in the city, so maybe it was a local race there. 

I blocked that number on my cell phone. Easier than blocking Farmer H from the kitchen.

Friday, March 22, 2024

Here's The Catch

Farmer H, who can't be bothered to name a single item that he wants from the store, or suggest any meals that he might like prepared for the week, came to life on Sunday and said,

"Where's that fish my buddy brought me from the lake?"

"You mean two or three months ago? It's in the freezer."

"Huh. Well, he brought me some more this afternoon."

"Where is it?"

"He brought it to my store. So I put it in my little refrigerator there."

"It should probably be in the freezer."

"I thought about that. I guess I'll drive down there tomorrow and bring it home."

"Well, I'm not eating it!"

"Why not? It's good fish."

"I don't know how long he had it. Did he catch it that day? Did he have it at home for a while, and then bring it to you? Like that fish from the lake. That's over a 3-hour drive. Did he clean it there first? In a house or camper, or just on the edge of the lake, rinsing it in lake water? Was it in a cooler? A cooler with ice, or with melted water from the day? There's too many unknowns for me to want to eat that fish."

"I don't know any of that. He just gave me fish."

Yes. The fish in FRIG II's freezer right now is in a Glad sandwich bag stuffed full of fish fillets. I just worry about their cleanliness and travel conditions.

When I was at the store Monday, I got some coating to use to cook Farmer H's fish. The cornmeal kind that you can use to coat the fish and bake it. I'm not one to use a deep fryer for fish.

Monday night, Farmer H went to the auction and didn't get home until 8:30. Tuesday he went to bingo and got home at 7:30. Wednesday he picked up Domino's Pizza (half price online this week).

"So what about your fish? I didn't notice that you brought it home."

"Oh. It's still down in my refrigerator. I didn't go there."

"So I guess you won't be eating that fish."

"I don't know why not! It's been in the refrigerator."

"For FOUR days now! And you don't know how long he had it before that. Let's remember the time you got food poisoning from a TV dinner Linguini With Clam Sauce. And IT was FROZEN! I've never seen anybody turn that shade of green."

"Yeah... I guess I won't be eating that fish."

Keeping Farmer H alive, one day at a time.