Another City Slicker!

28 Feb
stock image

I had to swing into Tractor Supply this morning to pick up bird seed – again! – and stopped to admire the baby chicks. I’d love to have a few chickens, but The Squire is, shall we say, less than enthusiastic about the idea.

While I was mentally selecting my flock a woman carrying a small child came over to the pens and stared at the peeps for a few moments, and then asked the clerk, “Are these the sort of chickens that lay eggs?”

Bless her, the clerk answered her with a straight face. “Yes, ma’am. Most all of the chickens in these pens will lay eggs.”

The Horn Doesn’t Work

26 Feb

When I went over to the thriving metropolis of Joppatowne this afternoon there was a blaring of horns beyond anything I’d ever heard before. Everybody was rolling down car windows and craning their necks. I was wondering if the Canadian truckers had gotten as far south as Maryland.

As it turned out, the left turn signal was not working properly, and traffic was backed up over the top of the hill. While I can understand the frustration, blowing the horn won’t make the light change! Pull out of line, go through the intersection, and make a U-turn at the next break in the jersey wall, for Pete’s sake. It’s not rocket science. The guy at the front of the line wasn’t going to try to make an illegal turn, if for no other reason than he was driving a company truck.

It’s a good thing I’m perfect, isn’t it?

You Talkin’ to Me?

21 Feb

A friend of mine orders her meals from one of those “we ship it; you cook it” places and seems to really like it. When I am working full time, The Squire sometimes has a problem coming up with things to fix for supper. “I’m running out of ideas”, sez he.

“Welcome to my world”, I replied.

stock photo – tofu and rice

I asked my friends for recommendations about the various programs, and she recommended one of them in particular. I looked into all three, entering that we’d want vegetarian meals for two people.

Well, when somebody says $70 for three meals, I know they are not talking to me!

Cutting up the Pig

21 Feb

Back in the dark ages (I was still married to the Late and Unlamented) my dad gave me a set of three wooden cutting boards, shaped like pigs. The smallest was made of quarter inch plywood, so it didn’t have a long shelf-life. I have no idea what happened to the middle one, but the largest is still on duty in our kitchen.

The last 60 years or so have not been kind to it, although considering the hard use it’s had, I have no reason to complain. It is badly stained, and you can see daylight through the crack in the bottom.

Recently, The Squire got a piece of pine and cut out a new pig for me, but the old one is still in service, sitting beside the stove.

Welcome to Baltimore

14 Feb
Thanks to Shay Simmons over at
Little Grey Bungalow
for the photo

Yesterday, it was in the mid-50s.

We woke up to snow this morning. Not much – only a quarter inch, and it didn’t stick to the roads or walks, but good grief!

What is this “Customer Service”. . .

28 Jan

. . .of which you speak?

I started my “life of crime” working in Customer Service for Ma Bell. Other than not being able to handle business phones, I took care of whatever came in on my line. Moving? I can handle a “T & F” (To and from) with no problem. Question about your bill? I can explain it. Need an extension in another room. I can schedule that, too.

I went to work for a major bank after my firstborn came along, and again was in customer service. Stop payments? Over drafts? Balances? Last five checks? Not a problem.

Later on, I worked for one of the Blue insurance companies. Again, we knew how to handle everything that came along. How many hospital days do I have left? Do you cover physical therapy? Why didn’t you pay for the meals I ordered in from the restaurant? Not a problem.

There was a day when you could call a company and tell the operator “I need to discuss whatever; could you please connect me to the proper department?” and wonder of wonders, she did exactly that.

Now everything is these bloody phone trees. Press one for this and two for that. Or worse yet, they want you to say something. “Pay a bill.” “Claims.” And then the metallic voice says, “I didn’t get that.” You know what I think? They just want you to go away and not bother them! “We have more important things to do than actually interact with pesky customers.”

I HATE Computers!

26 Jan

My mum died in 2011 and I am still going through her stuff. She was a hoarder, and I am a procrastinator, which is a pretty bad combination. I found a bar pin with her initials – AJP – and thought I’d take a chance and put it on Freecycle. I took a picture of it, but now my cellphone won’t “Bluetooth” with my computer. OK. I’ll just download it to The Squire’s computer and send it to myself.

His computer won’t send it, saying there is a “Permanent Error”. Lovely. I tried posting it from my own account, but using his system, and none of my email addresses show up.

He gets funny videos and such from a high school classmate, and I have frequently asked him to send them to me, so I can share them or post them here. Last night I tried to forward one and it bounced back. Apparently, I don’t exist.

The Squire tried to correct all of this, but Comcast is being uncooperative, to put it mildly. He was involved in a “chat” with their IT department, which never ends well, and they promised yesterday afternoon that somebody would call him back within a half an hour. So far, nada.

Aaargh!

Calamity Jane Reporting In

23 Jan

Where to start?

I did check in with my GP and he told me I had gotten the shingles vaccine, but it is obviously possible to have a breakthrough case. There is a new, two-step vaccine on the market, and he recommended I get that, but I have to wait 90 days, so I just hope I stay out of trouble until Apil.

Our church dates back to 1724 on the current location – it was actually established in 1692 by Queen Anne of England – and back in 2017 we restarted our Colonial Fairs, renamed as Historic Fall Festivals. I managed to celebrate the occasion by getting a stress fracture in my left foot, and it has bothered me ever since. The last job I had involved a lot of walking and even though I wore tennis shoes most of the time, by Thursday I was nearly in tears. The Squire called the podiatrist, and his office was able to squeeze me in on Friday. One x-ray later, I am wearing a surgical boot and under strict orders, both from the doctor and The Squire, to keep off my feet. Well, I don’t have to tell anybody how that is working out, do I?

The abovementioned job ended on Thursday, so I am hoping to catch up a little bit. The dust bunnies are getting aggressive, and I owe about a dozen people letters and notes.

The Squire is doing well. Our GP is very, very pleased with his blood levels, so that’s good. He is taking Trulicity, and all I can say is, it’s a darned good thing we have a good health insurance policy. That stuff is PRICEY! We could never afford it if we didn’t have a prescription program. America so desperately needs a national health program. I wonder how much people in other countries have to shell out for this stuff?

And that’s the news from this end of the swamp.

A Wash!

17 Jan

Yesterday’s fancy snowstorm was literally a “washout”. It snowed hard for about four hours – we got about an inch, if that – and then it started to rain. We went to bd around 9:30, and it was not looking good. This morning, there is nothing to show we ever had snow. However, it is very, very windy! I’m just waiting for something to land on the house.

It’s Snowing Hard as Rain!

16 Jan

We are just now having out first real snow of the season, and depending upon which station you believe, we are going to get three to five inches, or it will turn to rain before morning, and we’ll have a right mess. It started about 4:00, so I went out to feed all of the critters around here before things got out of hand. It’s the sort of snow that you can’t really see; it just looks foggy until you step out into it.

And thereby hangs a tale.

The Late and Unlamented insisted on being in charge of the money in our house. And I mean in charge. When I had suggested – assumed, really – we’d have a joint checking account, he looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “I never heard of such a thing!” I certainly had – my parents had a joint account all of their married life. “Well, your mother always was crazy.” Okey-dokey. As a result, if I wanted anything at all I had to ask him for it. He insisted on going with me to the grocery store and questioning every item I put in the cart. Later on, he began giving me $35 every two weeks for groceries (this was in the mid-60s) and making me write down what each charge on the tape was for. Anything I couldn’t account for, he wanted me to pay him back.

One night, we were shopping at Polan’s, a long-gone store in Bel Air – a sort of cross between Walmart and a five-and-dime – when The Eldest Daughter came running from the front door, to announce “It’s snowing hard as rain! Do you think I can get a pair of real boots?”

The L & UL threw his cigarette on the floor, stomped on it, and began to yell. “Every time I think I’m going to have a few dollars to myself, you or that brat decide you want something!” Tina buried her face in my stomach, and everybody in the area turned to look at him.

Mind you, at the time, the poor child was wearing two pair of woolen socks and two bread bags when she went out because I wasn’t working, and somebody couldn’t afford to give up his beer and smokes. A friend finally gave me a pair of boots her son had outgrown.

And yes, he died a natural death.