READY? (I dedicate this to you, cousin Jacqui, Hal's description of his poop. Love ya!)
"Thin as a pencil, about four inches long, softer'na fresh egg."
Speaking of my dad, I talked to my mom today and apparently this morning when ol' Hal was out hunting deer (naturally), his CELL PHONE rang. Now, listen: my dad got a cell phone like last year. For gosh sakes he still doesn't know how to take a call, hang up, get voicemail, etc. And now, he's receiving phone calls in the deer stand. Hilarious. But, as my mom told me:
"Of course there was a 9-point buck standing right there. Now, your dad, 'Dead-Eyed-Dick-Fast-Draw-McGraw', whatever you want to call him, shot that deer before it could even wonder who was calling." And I laughed as I pictured the cell phone, slow-mo flying, end-over-end, and landing in the soft snow as my dad simultaneously cocked and fired his gun lightning fast and the deer fell to the ground. Then my mom told me they have no snow, which ruined my imagined fantasy just a little bit.
Here's ol' Dead-Eyed-Dick's graduation photo:
|Dear Dad from 1967: Someday you will get prostate cancer and your favorite daughter will embarrass you publicly on the world wide interweb. Now is your chance to read up on something that scientists call 'birth control'.|