Logic

All my life my parents never locked the doors to their house. I don't think I ever in my life had a key.

One day this summer my dad and I were leaving the house together and he locked up behind us. I looked at him funny and he goes, "when your mom was alive it was only half mine. Now it's ALL mine."

Coffee Talk

My dad's Keurig is on the fritz.

I suggested he might need a new one. He asked how much they are and I said, "I don't know? 30 bucks?"

Hal: "Wanna pay $15 each?"

Me: "no"

Hal: "Well, $15'd be easier for both of us."

"The View! The View!"

I hope this story is as funny typed out as it was in real life...

My mom's been having a rough week. My dad and I had to get her out of bed together the other morning and help her into her chair. And when she was settled, she used what little breath she had to ask my dad to get her "my-hearing-aid-my-phone-my-whatever-else-is-on-the-nightstand!" 

I knew he could never possibly remember all of that and so I followed him into the bedroom to help. Because of the way my mom said all of that, and because it was almost 10am, I added "The View! The View!" to indicate that in addition to all that stuff we better turn on her show too.

Well my dad didn't get the joke, obviously because he stopped dead in his tracks, squinched his butt and put both of his hands in front of it. 

He thought I was telling him his robe wasn't covering all.

Oh, how we laughed.

Said robe. Also --- what the heck is he eating for breakfast? A giant chunk of cheese that's what.

The Bathroom Door

Hexums. We don't do doors. We don't shut doors. Everybody who has ever been to my parents' one room shack of a cabin of a home knows you don't go in the bathroom without calling out ahead. And if you're in there and your modesty is compromised and you hear footsteps you call out "I'M IN HERE". That's our "door". Most of you "privacy" people from much smaller families will struggle to understand this.

Anyway, tonight my mom and sister Keri and I were watching a movie while my dad push-mowed his couple-acre yard, me knowing at some point he was going to need my help getting under the pine trees my mom refuses to allow him to cut the branches out of the bottom blah blah blah...anyway, I knew this, and I saw it coming and so I yelled outside to my dad that I fully planned on helping him mow under the pine trees, but not until after our movie was done. So anyway I also, for good measure yelled "your belly is big" (it is) and then I ran to the bathroom for sanctuary, knowing my dad would NEVER NEVER NEVER go into the bathroom if I were in there. So I sat, (peeing, yes) but also afraid to not be peeing because I was in TROUBLE, and then I looked up to see my mom's biggest butcher knife, brandished, around the corner. 

A warning.

Telecommuting, Redneck Style

My mom is in hospice, and so I have spent most of this summer at my parents' place up in Roosevelt MN. My company has been wonderful - they're allowing me to work remotely so that I can be with her. I brought my home office computer and two monitors and set them up in my old loft bedroom. I love it! I wear my overalls every day (and to bed) and work work work and sometimes I go down the ladder and vacuum, or do laundry, or get pills or make meals and it's been working really well.

Today I was on the phone with an insurance agent following up on a binder that I had ordered. My mom was downstairs with HER NURSE, talking about vitals and pain management and this weird pain in her head and could that be another tumor?

...when all of the sudden BANG!!!

My dad shot a squirrel. From inside the house.

I pretended nothing happened

Disgus-Tea

The neighbor brought over a gallon jug of Lipton diet green tea citrus a while back because she knows my dad loves iced tea. 

He's been drinking it for several days. He's also been complaining about a funny taste, which I attributed to it being a different brand than he normally buys - also green tea tastes different than black tea. Whatever. I ignore most of what my dad says.

Today on his one millionth complaint about the taste, my mom suggested that maybe it's expired? I figured it was worth checking into, who knows how long neighbors keep their jugs of tea before realizing they're not going to drink them and then decide to generously give them away?

...And that is the story of the first time a Hexum wasted food by dumping perfectly good diet green tea citrus down the drain. 

Thanks, Dad

My dad gets very offended, or maybe not offended, but definitely offput if you ask him for something extra he has. 

For example, my mom makes him a giant bowl of popcorn almost every night. So, naturally, when I'm visiting, I want some of that popcorn too. I have tried so many times in vain to go up to the giant bowl in my dad's lap with a tiny cereal bowl to get a small portion of his bounty. He looks at me like I'm asking him for a kidney, and my mom ends up making more popcorn so I can have some. He will not share. 

And then, when it's time to go home, I ask if I can take a couple pounds of venison. (Their deep freeze has enough venison to feed a family of four every night for a year.) You can't believe his shocked face. 

Anyway, when my sisters and I took him and my mom out for their 50th Anniversary dinner, we encouraged him to order the most expensive steak on the menu, and he did. It was pretty big, and I was drinking, so I asked him if I could have a tiny bite, to taste the yumminess. Just a bite. He shook his head yes. I couldn't believe it!

Then he slowly and deliberately, lovingly almost, cut me a piece and sent it down the table, passing it between four people to get it down to me. 

Below is the bite he let me have. He was staring at me receiving it with the most sarcastic sh*t-eating grin you have ever seen. 

JERK

Prince

Prince died yesterday. I got a call from a co-worker who told me the news. So, I yelled out, "PRINCE DIED!" to my office (similar to how on February 8, 2007 I yelled out "ANNA NICOLE SMITH IS DEAD!" to my office (they rely on me for celebrity news).

Anyway everybody in Minnesota is grieving in one way or another. We've lit up our Capitol building and many bridges with purple lights. A free block party and a free dance party at First Avenue was organized. About a bajillion people showed up and danced all night. They were still lining up to get in at 3:30am.

A facebook friend of mine posted that she called her dad after hearing the news and this was their conversation:

"Dad!"
"I know. I just heard."
"Heard what?"
"Prince is dead."
"Oh no - it IS real."
Moment of silence...


How sweet. They shared something together. A love of Prince and his music.

Curious, I called my own dad. This was our conversation:

"Dad! Prince is dead!"

"WELL WHAT THE HELL DO I CARE?"

I guess we share something else.

Still There...

Remember when  I paid a guy $100 to write my name in my dad's garage floor (small and out of the way) and instead he wrote it in mile-high letters?

Well it's still there and don't tell ol' Hal but I feel a little bit bad about it -- 

What the Heck is He Doing?

One day on the farm, a million years ago, my dad accidentally locked himself in the feed room of the barn. I guess the door to it weighed a ton and the old rusty lock was on the outside, and it somehow latched shut after him. He realized that he might be in trouble too because my mom would probably never go looking for him or wonder where he was to go and let him out. He tried yelling and screaming for her, to no avail. she was in the house. He started looking around the room to see if there was anything he could use to force the door open.

 

Nothing.

 

Quick side point: even though my dad is a mountain man and fearless and can wrestle a black bear with his bare hands while opening a beer, his Achilles heel is claustrophobia. Being stuck in a space and not being able to get out will start him to behave like a little girl.

 

He did find a red strip of cloth and a piece of wire, however. He rolled the strip of cloth around the wire tiny tiny tiny, and shoved it through the keyhole in the door. He waved it around and bobbed it up and down and waved it some more, hoping that my mom might see it. He almost gave up several times but decided to keep waving it around because, you know, it was his only hope of being discovered.

 

Meanwhile my mom was in the house. She saw a tiny wire coming out of a keyhole in the barn and then a red strip unraveling. Then she saw it waving around and bobbing up and down for a really long time. She watched, wondering, "What the heck is he doing now?" and kept on watching it, mesmerized.

 

Lots of time passed. Finally the phone rang and it was for my dad. She yelled out the back door for him. When he didn't come to the phone, she went outside to tell him to come and get the phone.

 

She figured out somehow that he was locked in the barn and when she let him out his face was beet red and his hands were in fists and oh boy was he mad. She didn't tell him right away about watching that flag the whole time.

 

These days.

 

 

 

 

Happy 48th, Mom and Dad

I don't know, I'm pretty sure I have gone on and on here about my parents and how great they are and how much I love them and how I really get a kick out of them and stuff. They are miraculously still married. Can you imagine anything lasting 48 years?

They're weird. My dad tells too many stories on repeat and my mom can't stand it. My mom likes to watch Real Housewives of Everywhere and my dad can't stand it. 

But here they are. Stuck with each other forever and neither one could live one week without the other. It's true. My mom came down to stay with Kasey after each of her babies was born and it was supposed to last "two weeks" but she was back home after like four days. Claimed Dad needed her. Even when she got lung cancer and had the most painful surgery known to man -- where they break open your ribs to remove a lobe -- and planned to recuperate at Keri's (24 hour care, cable TV, etc) she went home right away and he probably had her make him breakfast. They're attached somehow, in their bickering, like cosmically.

We found out last week that my mom has cancer again, this time in her boob and that makes the fourth time in four years between the two of them. I'll let you guess whose was whose:

Prostate 2010

Lung 2012

Uterus 2012

Breast 2014

So far, all Stage 1 operable, no further chemo or radiation needed. Today there's an MRI and we'll find out a little more, hoping this 'Stage-1-fully-operable' business holds steady. Anyway, Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

He's probably telling a story she's already heard 27 times.

I LOVE YOUSE.

Watching a Movie With My Parents

Hal: "I don't like the beginnings of movies. Somebody's always getting killed."

MOVIE: MAN ENTERS DARK ROOM. WOMAN AT RISK.

Hal: "What's he got in his hands?"

MOVIE: MAN PUTS PLASTIC BAG OVER WOMAN'S FACE.

Mom: "Wouldn't you suck in and bite it and make a hole so you could breathe?"

Hal: "I wonder if she could have broken it open with her hands...but I guess you're not the one having it done to you."

Hal: *leaves room*

Hal: *turns TV on in bedroom*

Hal: *changes channel to True Grit, starring John Wayne*

Hal: "See how he rides? See how that other actor guy is flopping around? You can tell in real life John Wayne rode horses a lot. See? He rides steady."

<LATER>

Hal: *returns to main room*

MOVIE: AUTOPSY ROOM. IT IS DETERMINED WOMAN DIED OF ASPHYXIATION.

Hal: "Well, whaddjya expect?"

<LATER>

MOVIE: COP LADY APPROACHES BRIDGE.

Hal: "Look up. Look up! They're always up! The raccoon is always up!"

MOVIE: INNOCENT BUT ACCUSED MAN IS ABOUT TO JUMP FROM BRIDGE. 

Hal: "Take her with ya. She's the one that gotcha. Grab her hand and jump. HAHA DO IT IN ONE! Can you imagine what it would be like for 25 feet of water to go through ya? It'd come out your eyes. You're like a hydraulic pump. You'd be spitting out seeds."

I tried to get some of that popcorn. He about had a heart attack.

Seriously, Hal?

I've shared with all of you the events surrounding my birth, including how my mom went and bought 50 pounds of Purina dog food on the day that I was born...and how my dad was hired by the US GOVERNMENT and probably more excited about that than about having another baby?

Well I just came across this DOOZY.

Readers, when I was ONE DAY OLD, fragile and tiny, deserving of undivided attention by both of my parents, my dad went and bought a 3 1/2 x 13 Taylor Made Hull-Gard Boat Fender at Marks Marine. He must have been excited about his new job and decided to treat himself. Also, we had a boat? That would have been fun. 

What the heck is a Taylor Made Hull-Gard Boat Fender, you ask?


I don't know. It's this. And it hurts my feelings.

A Conversation With Hal

"Kady are we estranged?"

"No Dad. We're not estranged."

"But I never see you!"

"Sure you do. In fact I'm thinkin' about comin' up there."

"Well I'm thinkin' about gettin' cremated, but I ain't about to rush it. Thinkin' and doin' are two different things. I been watching Raomi and Isles and they said, 'she's estranged from her daughter -- they haven't talked in 36 years.' And I thought, that sounds like Kady and I...and you know...I started getting humid in my eyes...so that's...whats...foaming my beer I guess. Did I already tell you I love you?"

"Yah, Dad, you did, but I never get tired of hearing it."

"Isn't it funny? Three words, so easy to say, so hard to mean, and so nice to hear? It's like that time Kelly told me I was a good shooter. Did I ever tell you that story? She was like 3 years old and we were out driving, she was standing on the hump, you know, on the floor in between the seats. She couldn't even see over the dashboard and there in the road was a partridge. Two car lengths away. So I blasted it you know, and when I got back in the car and in her tiny little voice she said, 'oh Dad! You're such a good shooter!'. It was the most precious thing I'd ever heard."

"That's because it was about you, Dad."

"Yah, I guess you're right....if they talk about ol' Bill so-and-so from Texas, 'A Good Shooter', it wouldn't mean much to me."

Hexum Traditions

There aren't a lot of Hexum family traditions. (Maybe we were too poor to come up with anything good?) But we did have habits. Lots and lots of habits. And those habits feel like Tradition to me.

For example, my dad worked shift work at the Boise Cascade paper mill. 14 days of 28 he worked a 12-hour shift. So 14 days out of 28 he needed a lunch. It was Kasey's and my responsibility to make sure he had a good one. He liked a container of leftovers and a sandwich and so that's pretty much what he got. We made him beautiful sandwiches too, with meat and cheese and lettuce and mayo and mustard. But, man, when you finish making somebody a gorgeous sandwich? It's too impossible not to...

And so for the seven years that it was our job to make that lunch, 14 days of 28, my dad would open his lunch box to find:

Dad

Sometimes my dad calls me and counsels criticizes me, or whatever. It's not on purpose. Mostly he just disagrees with every decision I've ever made. (Can you blame him?) He just likes to continue to mold me, even now that I'm all growed up. I don't mind it at all, I tell you what, I'm just happy he calls. 

Anyway, the other day I told him, "It's OK dad. I already know you love me because you called. You don't have to say anything nice."

Oh how we laughed.

"You have to come now, or be one of them dummies. One of them city people. Look at your cement blocks. Look at your empty cans of beer. The money. And go clubbing. And don't worry about the Lady's Slippers. Why worry about it? Right?"

Happy 47th, Mom and Dad!

She:

Always knew when we were stealing Vitamin C and had a knack for making even the most mundane activities fun. (In hindsight I think it was because the Vitamin C jar always made a very loud noise.)

He:

Once made my sister Kim a snow fort that included reinforced wooden ceiling beams and never once farted without first getting everybody's undivided attention.

Love you guys and Happy 47th!!!

Contradiction Jones (Hal Hexum)

"You kids sure stifled my free spirit. I coulda been out there, swinging limb to limb beating my chest. I tell you I woulda been the President of the United States if I wouldn'ta gotten married."

HUH?

Wait...free spirit? swinging limb to limb? 

Or President of the United States?

I'm confused. Those are just two very different things.

The Inevitable.

Well, it was just a matter of time. You can't buy and drive a 1987 Dodge Dakota pickup truck that had been sitting in a garage undriven for seven years without expecting a problem here and there. The main problem is that the truck stalls a lot. It just dies every time I try to push the gas during the first ten minutes of running it in the morning. The idle is turned up high enough that I just idle all the way down Lake Street and hope for no red lights. And up until now, I had been able to tweak/restart/jiggle/adjust/swear my way through all of Ol' Blue's hiccups. But the other night, she finally just. wouldn't. start.

At two in the morning.

In Dinkytown.

So I had to get 'er towed to a mechanic. And thus began a week of a new type of swearing. That night Tan from Saigon Garage on Lake Street cleaned out my carburetor for $180. I got the truck back the next day and it did run, but it still didn't seem quite "right". 

Two days later, I broke down on the way to work. Directly in front of Saigon Garage. I couldn't believe my luck! Tan got it started though and told me to come back the next day. Well of course I couldn't get it started that night at work and had to get another tow over to Saigon. But I got a new starter for $229 and he did some other things that I couldn't quite understand (his English is not as good as mine) and now Ol' Blue is purring like a kitten and running better than ever!

The point of this whole story is that all week my dad has been beside himself because of me having car problems and being stranded and him being so far away and not being able to help out.

Here's what he said to me:

"KADY. You can't be having your truck towed every day. Not a woman of your statue."

2012 vs. 2013

Same dad...antagonizing the same dog in the same yard in front of the same garage. What's different?

 

 

RIP, little Acura.